Chapter 25 – Wounds and Laws
---
The cavern still reeked of iron. Goblins lay sprawled on the ground, their wounds festering despite crude bandages of leaves. The cries of infants mixed with the groans of the wounded, creating a chorus of misery.
Lila and Mira rocked the newborns, but their meager scraps of meat were gone. The babies whimpered, hollow-eyed.
Mira whispered, "Altair… if this continues, we'll starve. There's nothing left."
Altair's gaze swept over the broken pack. They're weary, hungry, afraid. If I don't forge order now, everything we've bled for will collapse.
---
A scarred goblin rose, rage burning in his eyes. His shoulder still bled, but he bared his teeth.
"Why do the females eat first? We fought! We bled! We should eat before them!"
Murmurs spread. Others nodded, fists shaking with resentment.
Lila clutched her infant tighter. Mira shrank back. The pack teetered on the edge of fracture.
Altair stepped forward slowly, his presence heavy.
---
"Listen well," Altair's voice was low but sharp as steel. "From this day, mothers who are pregnant or nursing eat first. Their children eat next."
The rebellious goblin snarled. "That's unfair!"
Altair's eyes burned. "Unfair? A goblin child is born in seven days. In one week, they walk. In one month, they can hold a spear. They are the future. You could die tomorrow. But the children will kill for us a hundred times over."
The goblin faltered, but his lips still curled.
Altair moved faster than thought. His hand shot out, clamping around the goblin's throat, forcing him to the ground.
"Whoever defies this law," Altair whispered in his ear, "dies here."
The cavern fell silent. No one dared move.
---
Altair released his grip. The goblin coughed, crawling back, eyes wide with fear.
Altair turned, his voice rising.
"Every child is mine. Every child belongs to the pack. I don't care who the mother is. I don't care who the father is. They are our future—and the only reason we will rise from filth."
Lila lowered her head, cheeks flushed. Mira held her baby tighter.
From the corner, Seraphina's cold laugh echoed. "You treat them like cattle—breeding machines. You're building a kingdom on forced births and blood."
Altair looked at her, lips curving into a chilling smile. "Yes. Because only this way can goblins challenge the world."
---
Despite injuries, Altair forced the able-bodied to train outside the cave.
They lined into a crude triangle, Arden tapping stone for signals. Tak! Goblins stepped forward. Tak! Tak! They retreated.
Silas set snares, pulling them tight. Lyra pulled rope until her palms bled. Neriah slipped through the shadows, vanishing and reappearing to confuse the others.
The pack grumbled, but for the first time, their movements began to resemble something more than chaos. They were not yet warriors—but no longer mere beasts.
---
That night, Altair stood before a flickering fire. The pack gathered, their eyes weary but searching.
"We are no longer a wild pack. We have laws. We have training. And we have a future."
His voice thundered. "No matter how small we are, the forest will bow. And after the forest, the world itself will kneel."
A ragged roar rose from their throats. It was weak, cracked, but real. The firelight burned in their eyes, igniting sparks of something dangerous.
---
Later, when the pack slept, Altair sat alone at the cave's mouth. The mist coiled through the trees.
Suddenly, his body trembled. His muscles throbbed, veins burning as if his blood were boiling. His skin itched, a crawling heat beneath the flesh.
He gritted his teeth, clutching his chest. This… what is this?
Then he understood.
It wasn't sickness. It wasn't weakness. It was a call. A whisper from within his own flesh.
The first pull of evolution.
Altair's lips curved into a sharp grin. His eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
"So… the world wants me to grow faster. Then I will. I will evolve. And when I do… even the Guardians of this forest will shudder at my name."
The forest held its breath, as if listening.
---
#wanD48