Liora’s POV

  Liora hovered a few inches above the ground, drifting through the quiet dark longhouse like a ribbon of moonlit smoke. Her wraithlings gathered around her in a loose semicircle, silent, attentive, their dark violet eyes glowing faintly in the night.

  Her people, such as they were.

  Folding her arms, Liora looked around at the gathered wraiths as her black hair floated in the silvery light. “We are vairunnel, the shadow servants. Elves speak of our ancient origins, though they pretend to have forgotten.”

  The wraithlings leaned closer, rustling like wind moving through dead leaves.

  “It was long before humans walked these lands. Before goblins came to the Deepwood. Before the Alaric…” She hesitated, no she would let Alaric’s name die with him, “before Paul learned to mold death to his will.”

  Her eyes drifted upwards towards the smoke-hole in the ceiling, where the stars of Deepwood were blocked by endless trees, as it should always be.

  “In my homeland, we were taught that wraiths were abominations. Evil things. Souls twisted into weapons.” A faint bitter smile touched her lips. “Perhaps that is still true. But not at the beginning.”

  She lowered herself until she was at eye level with the goblin wraiths.

  “In our oldest histories, before elves hid the truth from themselves, we worshipped a god named Calevar, Calevar the Gentle Dawn. Patron of peace. Prosperity. Renewal.”

  Thunderroar’s eyes glowed dimly with curiosity.

  “Yes... you heard correctly. The god who originated the wraiths, was once a god of peace.”

  Her voice softened, sorrow threading through the words.

  “Calevar saw suffering and wished to end it. Fear, doubt, pain, he thought these were flaws of the mortal flesh. So, he reached deeper into the Wellspring of Spirit than any god before him. He went too deep. He accidentally tore the soul from his own priests and reshaped them into the first wraith. Not monsters, but vairunnel, guardians. Beings who felt no fear of death, no pain, no hesitation to protect.”

  She placed a translucent hand on Vael’s cheek, cold met cold. “You were meant to be a noble race.”

  Her gaze drifted, becoming distant.

  The other gods were horrified at what had happened. They sealed Calevar away and scattered his wraithlings to the wind. The wraiths spread knowledge of their creation. So, the rituals survived, in pieces. In dark cults, forbidden temples, ancient tomes. Over centuries, wraiths became the opposite of what they had meant to be. Tools of murder, instruments of terror, agents of evil.”

  She looked down.

  “I was taught to destroy you on sight.”

  A quiet shiver moved through the wraithlings.

  “And yet…” She let her finger trail through their misty forms. “You are not terrors. You are frightened, half-formed souls seeking direction. I know what that feels like.”

  Liora floated backwards, straightening.

  “What we were meant to be is not what we are now. But that does not mean we must remain lost.”

  Her voice strengthened, conviction born of both longing and defiance.

  “We can choose to be something better.” Liora thought of the battle with the feralean. “Even under a master as ruthless as Paul. Even if elves would destroy us all. Even history says we are wrong.” She paused. “Purpose is not given, it is claimed.”

  The wraithling’s eyes flickered like starlight.

  “Wraith, vairunnel, were created by a god who meant to protect life. Maybe he failed. Maybe we don’t have to be evil.”

  “Mistress, what is evil?” Thunderroar asked.

  “Elves say evil is anything that breaks the harmony of the world.” Liora looked at the giant worg.

  “Is eating deer evil?”

  “All things cause harm from time to time. Wolves hunt, goblins steal, and elves make mistakes. These are not evil. Evil is different, evil is when someone knows they are hurting others and they do it anyways.”

  “Doesn’t killing the deer hurt it?” Seren asked. “And taking from the humans so we can live, taking the other goblins as slaves?”

  “No.” Liora said with some power behind her voice. “The elves are naive. Evil is when you choose to harm what you know you should protect.”

  “We do not protect the deer?” Thunderroar asked.

  “Or the other tribes, or humans?” Vael interjected.

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  “What about Gravewell, some of the slaves call this a place of evil? Because of the undead. Because of Master. If evil is harming what you should protect, does that make Master evil?” Grandler asked.

  Liora’s stomach twisted. She didn’t expect these sorts of questions. Goblins took definitions literally. Their world was simple. Right or wrong. Friend or enemy. Evil or not.

  “Paul does may things that elves, and even human, would see as evil, but you must understand, definitions change depending on who is talking. To elves, undeath is always a violation. A break in the natural cycle.”

  The wraithlings stirred uneasily.

  “To goblins, evil is someone who kills your tribe and burns your homes. Paul did not do that.” Liora said.

  “He saved us from the humans and hobgoblins.” Thunderroar piped up.

  “Yes.”

  “And he protected the village from the attack. He gives us food and is preparing for winter.” Kith finally spoke.

  Grandler looked uncertain now, “So… Master is not evil?”

  Liora hesitated. She remembered Alaric’s face. His cruelty. She remembered dying, then waking in darkness hungry and filled with sorrow. Remembered believing undeath itself was a wound upon the world. And yet… These goblins, her wraithlings. This strange village where the dead walked and the living feared more from outsiders than the undead… She liked it here. She was useful here.

  And Paul, cold, ruthless, terrifying, still protected what he claimed was his. He gave them purpose… He gave her purpose.

  “Paul harms those who threaten Gravewell.” She said finally. “Not those who depend on him.”

  Thunderroar nodded eagerly. “So, he protects us?”

  The wraithlings all nodded. “Yes, and so long as he protects you, and this place, he is not evil in a way I define.” Liora responded.

  Grandler looked up, hesitantly, “But if he stopped protecting us?”

  Liora met his eyes. “If he ever turned on us, yes that would be evil.”

  Thunderroar walked closer, “If evil is choosing to hurt what depends on you… is it evil for humans to hurt goblins? They know goblins depend on the forest too.”

  Liora nodded. “Yes, that is evil. Anglia is evil. And we will fight evil for the Master.”

  “I like your lesson.” Thunderroar smiled.

  The other wraithlings laughed a little.

  Outside the sun started to rise and Liora looked at the dawn. “I must go talk to Paul. Go about your patrols and duties.”

  Liora left the longhouse and made her way to Paul’s hut. On her way she could see the fort. She heard it was done and they would be moving Paul’s things into it soon. Apparently, the library and shrine were also done. Eryndral already set up the shrine to her liking.

  As the sun peaked, Liora hoped Paul wasn’t already sleeping the day away. He usually didn’t sleep unless guarded, but it had been an eventful night.

  Liora walked past the zombie and goblin guards and right into the hut. None bothered trying to stop her. The inside of the hut was lit a light golden color. Looking around, the wraith saw Paul sitting in a chair next to a bed.

  He was hunched over a white rock slowly carving runes into it. Around him on the ground lay several similar stones with cracks in them or split in half, all glowing orange with fire mana.

  The stone in his hand flared to life for a moment, before dimming back to a white rock with golden runes carved into it. Paul wrote something on the parchment at his desk.

  Liora wondered what he was doing but was too timid to ask. Paul never explained himself unless you needed to know what was going on anyways, so unless she needed to know he would not really say anything, and if she did need to know he would bring it up. She didn’t know if she was offended by the treatment or not, but he was that way with everyone, not just her. So maybe it was just his personality. No need to waste words or time.

  She watched him work for a long time before finally asking, “What are you doing?”

  “Testing something.” He said looking over at the bed.

  In the bed was a woman. Liora recognized the red-haired woman. Maybe 17 or 18. Her green eyes watched Paul hungrily. She was his feeder. A woman captured from the human village. Paul didn’t feed from her a lot, to keep her alive, but her blood would taste better than goblin. Liora smiled at the self-indulgence Paul allowed himself.

  Based on both their current dress, they had not been physical, it had probably just been a feeding. She wondered if Paul lusted. She hadn’t since undeath, but Alaric had, he was veracious. The two couldn’t be more opposite in personality.

  Alaric would have fed from the woman until she was dead and never thought of her again. Th entire village would be husks by now. The ancient vampire had no idea what restraint was or what it meant.

  But the woman was covered in sweat, so you never knew. Though, she had never seen them do it. Liora shook her head away from such thoughts.

  “Durnakh should be arriving tomorrow or the next day.” Paul said as he turned the stone over in his hand. “We will hold a council for the winter preparations. There is a lot to be done.”

  “Who do you want there?” Liora asked.

  “We will have everyone here, Rikkard, Grag, Pasxi, Krelgr, Eryndral, You, and Durnakh.” Paul closed his eyes and the stone glowed bright for a long moment, before he opened his eyes and continued watching it.

  “What is that?” Liora asked.

  “An experiment. I don’t want to talk about it until it is successful. No need to get hopes up.” He put the stone on his desk and looked back at the human. “Ewyn?”

  “Yes, Master.” She said sleepily.

  He rolled his eyes and looked back at the door. “Good timing.”

  At that moment a goblin woman walked into the hut with a small basket of white stones, followed by two skeletons carrying the same thing. “Put them there.” Paul pointed towards a couple empty baskets in the corner.

  The gobliness and her escorts put their baskets down and picked up the empty ones and left. Liora noticed no hesitation, no fear. Before when the goblins used to quake at the sight of Paul, now they seemed to take pride in their Master and his undead legions.

  “They do not fear you now?” Liora asked.

  “I have worked with Veyra all night collecting stones. She has grown fond of me.” He said, getting back to work. He couldn’t break the momentum.

  “Do you think of the past?” Liora asked.

  “How far back of past?” Paul smirked, looking at her for the first time.

  “I don’t know, the past.” The past haunted Liora, but Paul never seemed to give it any weight, though it could be too heavy for her.

  “I thought of Alaric during the adventurers attack.” He said, “They could have been the same group hunting us.”

  “You don’t bring them up much.”

  “I don’t know where to find them.” Paul looked back at his work, “I am not inclined to spend eternity hunting them either.”

  “Yes, there is much to do here.” Liora got closer. “What about Anglia?”

  “We will have to deal with them eventually I suppose. I have some plans in the works for winter prep.”

  “I mean, do you think of your life in Anglia?”

  “Why would I?” Paul said. “I have my schooling I can lean on when I need it, but my mortal life, was… mortal.” Paul said.

  Paul was a river, constantly moving forward towards the ocean. She stood among the stones, trying to get back to the mountain she came from. And yet… she followed him downstream as he pulled her, and Gravewell with him. But she would never forget. Even if she did, her mind would be their vault. Their past.