Adventure of Maryam

The wounded goblin limps from the shrine’s shadow to the altar, clutching its torn sack. It sees Maryam and Carmin, yet drops to its knees beside the basin.

With shaking fingers, the goblin tears open the branded sack. Stolen grain spills over the black stone, revealing a small bloodstained idol buried among the kernels.

The wounded goblin presses its injured palm into the rainwater. A thin red cloud unwinds beneath its hand, and the idol trembles against the scattered grain.

The bronze bell swings without wind. Its measured note rolls through the jungle, and the altar’s carved symbol fills with a dull, ember-colored light.

The ember-light throbs beneath the wounded goblin’s palm. Maryam shifts toward the basin, torn between the goblin’s desperate plea and the villages sleeping beyond the jungle, while Carmin raises his mechanical hand.

A heavy step breaks the shrine’s hush. Coldcock strides, a broad-shouldered young adult human man with weathered brown skin, a square scarred face, cropped black hair, and iron-studded leather beneath his rain-dark cloak, beneath the toppled arch, captain’s cloak dark with jungle rain, his drawn sword already moving toward the kneeling goblin.

Before either guard can intervene, Coldcock’s sword flashes once. The wounded goblin crumples beside the basin, and the idol’s trembling stops as abruptly as a snuffed candle.

The bronze bell gives one final, hollow note. Its ember-colored lines fade across the altar, leaving only wet grain, the silent idol, and the captain’s blade in the green shadow.

Maryam's words settle beneath the bell's fading echo. Coldcock's sword remains lowered beside the dead goblin, but his hard gaze shifts from the body to her face.

Coldcock wipes the rain from his blade and sheathes it. He steps away from the wounded goblin's body, leaving the bloodstained idol undisturbed beside the basin.

Carmin leans over the basin and studies the idol without touching it. Its bloodstained grooves mirror the altar’s carving, forming a channel meant to draw a living bloodline into the shrine.

Following the grooves, Carmin finds a second inscription beneath the wet grain: the shrine would shelter a clan only while its bloodline remained recognized. The wounded goblin’s plea reached something old, but not merciful.

The answer stays beyond the damaged inscription. Rainwater has blurred its final lines, and the examination has taken long enough for the jungle’s dripping silence to swallow every distant sound.

The idol now rests clearly in Carmin’s understanding, though its blurred final inscription remains an unresolved piece of the answer. The altar’s ember-light stays dark.

Carmin reaches beneath the idol’s edge and lifts it from the wet stone. Its grooves are cold at first, then pulse faintly against his fingers, answering his blood.

A thread of ember-light crawls from the idol into the altar carving, revealing three fresh symbols before fading. The rain has already blurred one, and each passing breath costs another detail.

Boots sound beyond the toppled arch. Arthur, a lean young adult man with umber skin, a narrow scarred face, close-cropped black hair, and a weathered olive cloak over dark leather armor, arrives in militant gear behind Coldcock, halting beneath the dripping vines as the idol’s last warmth dies in Carmin’s grasp.

Maryam gives the altar one last wary look, then leads Carmin and Arthur beneath the toppled arch. Their footsteps fade toward the village, leaving Coldcock alone with rain, stone, and the dead goblin.

Coldcock searches the shrine’s perimeter without disturbing the altar. He finds narrow tracks entering from the north, then a second set circling away toward a dry ravine, suggesting the goblin was not the only visitor.

The discovery gives him a direction, but the rain washes away finer details before he can establish numbers or identities. He marks the ravine’s position in memory and turns back toward the dark altar.

Maryam leads the return through dripping jungle, but the ravine keeps tugging at her attention. Behind her, Carmin’s prosthetic glimmers faintly while Arthur scans the trees.

Arthur turns toward the northern track, hand resting on his weapon. Carmin enters the village road, raising his mechanical arm to cast a pale hardlight marker above the gate.