At first glance I’m like any other teen on the street but once you get close you can see. I’m not a monster. But I’m not human either. There really is no name for what I am.

My hair is brown but in certain light it appears blond, it sticks out in every direction no matter how hard you try to get it to lay flat. My eyes shine an abnormally bright green which marks me as their own. I wear basketball shorts and t-shirts but looks can be deceiving.

I have magic like none other.

At birth I was cursed. Cast out. My mother was mortal. She never wanted a baby so she handed me over to the magic creatures—the goblins, trolls, dragons, unicorns, gremlins. They fought over which kingdom I should be raised, after all it’s not often they are given a mortal child. In the end the goblins won. They gave me the “blessing” of magic. But mortals aren’t strong enough to withhold the power of sorcery. It grew and eventually took over.

So I was sent away. The child every magical creature wanted was suddenly an outcast. Undesirable. Abandoned. Practically criminal.

You say this is a long shot? You say this is just a story? Well I envy anyone who can go through life believing that.

I am the Goblin Child.                                                                                  

And when a whole army of magical animals, beasts and creatures are hunting you down there is no way to go on pretending they are nothing more than scary stories and nightmares.

Very few mortals can see anything that has to do with magic. It’s everywhere, all around. In the air we breathe. The crowded city streets. Maybe even right next door. All you have to do is open your eyes.

But it’s costly.

Those who have the Sight of magic never live a normal life or even die a peaceful death. They are forced to witness not only the beauty of magic but also its darkness. Eventually they always get pushed too far. They see one monster too many and suddenly they are no more. They’re consumed with fear. My mother had Sight. I suppose that’s why I was handed over to be raised by the goblins. I inherited her eyes and now I too pay the price.

I can already feel myself slipping away. I’ve already begun to follow the path my mother, and all people like us, took. I’m going quicker than most. I am fourteen years old but the cost for my Sight is far heavier than anyone else’s. Because I have goblin magic too. But I never asked for any of this. Born to a mortal. Raised by the goblins. Abandoned by both. And now hunted like some kind of monster. My life hangs by a thread and yet no one cares. No one knows. No one sees.

The path my mother gave me is a lonely one. But the path the goblins gave me is a cold one.

I live in the city—or more accurately hide in the city. I can easily blend in to the crowds and the rush of people but that only means they too can hide. I live in fear. Every day is a new challenge whether it’s moving on so I’m not an easy target, a battle with the goblins who betrayed me or a mental fight for my sanity. Either way I have to keep moving. Because if I stop they’re sure to find me. And if they catch up with me then it’s only a matter of time before the insanity does too.

So I run, fight and keep going. I’ve been in the city only a week and still I fear they know where I am and where to find me. They never remain oblivious to my location for long. They caught me in Mississippi, Tennessee, Iowa, Missouri, Organ, Washington and every other state whose name is lost in my long list of safe havens all around the US.

But they never get me. Even the King of the Goblin’s magic was no match for the power that possesses me. However, when they finally get me that small shred of sanity I cling to will not be spared. First they will weaken me—torture me. Then will begin the long and excruciating procedure to extract my magic. And once that is gone I will be worthless to them.

I was once their kin, but those days are history. It is not the first time they have turned on their children. Goblins are menacing, deceiving and ruthless. If a young goblin cannot prove his worth then he is as good as dead.

When I was young my best friend was a goblin named Lester. He was selfless, which is a trait that goblins don’t take pride in having. Still, he put others before himself. By the time a goblin reaches the age of eleven he is to prove himself worthy in front of the King. Lester—true to himself as always—refused to act in the way the King should expect from his kin. Lester was himself right down to the bitter end.

I however am a different story. I was a mortal child. The goblins take pride in their own kind but they also take pride in taking innocence, like the child I was, and turning it into what they are—monsters. So they cursed me with magic. When it came time for my own Redemption Ceremony, as they called it, I tried to harness the gift given to me. But all that happened was destruction. I can’t remember anything except waking up amongst rubble and dead bodies.

I was a phony, a fraud. Because I’m not brave. Not like Lester was.

Upon my awakening I knew what had happened instantly. The painful surgery I under took to be able to have goblin magic failed. So I ran, with only the clothes on my back, and I never returned. Once everyone got over the fact that had happened they began their search for the dreadful criminal who ended the King’s reign.

My name is Oliver, I am the Goblin Child.

2: Chapter 1

People brush past me without a second thought. Some of them try to weave themselves through the crowds and others push everyone out of their way. There are people shouting profanities at each other from behind the wheel and some doing just that from the cracked sidewalks.

No one pays much attention to me as I stumble around them looking like a homeless orphan. I wonder what they would do if they knew who I was—where I came from and what I could do. No doubt chaos would ensue. The road raggers would speed away and the crowds would run for their lives. Some of them might even drop to their knees and beg for mercy and eventually they would send me away to some secret facility with top of the line security.

For a moment I am tempted to shout it to the world. To show them my magic and let them take me. Being the humans’ test dummy would definitely be better than the goblins’ rage. But even as the thought crosses my mind I know I won’t do it. No one could save me. No one in the magical realm and certainty no one from here.

Besides, I wouldn’t be able to convince them without demonstrating my magic, and that could only end badly.

A shiver runs up my spine and cold fear settles in the pit of my stomach.

I remember the goblin bodies that littered the floor when I finally came to my senses at my Redemption Ceremony. I remember their dead, unseeing eyes and the blood that pooled around them. I remember crying as I ran. I was only eleven but it didn’t take a genius to piece together what had happened.

I hate the goblins. They did this to me—they made me a runaway convict. They made me afraid.

The longer these thoughts run through my head the more I feel my mind slipping away. It makes me weak in the knees and everything disoriented. The crowds aren’t helping much either. I sigh deeply and shove away the memories and hatred. Best not to feel, because feeling leads to insanity and insanity leads to my magic and that, well, that leads to death.

I recognize where I am when I finally bother to look up and pay attention. I’m only a block away from the ally that I’ve been sleeping in. I pick up my pace, desperate to get away from the crowded sidewalks.

As soon as I rounded the corner and enter my temporary sanctuary I realized my mistake. I see their dark figures lurking in the shadows. Despite what mortals seem to believe goblins aren’t short or green nor do they work in banks. In fact they tower over the average human. The short ones are six feet and the tall are nine. Admittedly their faces are a little deformed: their hooked noses cover half their faces, their teeth are more like fangs than anything and their ears are pointed like an elf’s. But they are powerful. At first glance you might not think so but looking in their eyes tells you everything. They’re pure black—not the so-dark-a-brown-that-it-looks-black but pitch black. They hold no emotion except for hatred and loathing and there is something in them that makes me want to cower with fear—like they are bringing forth all my bad memories and forcing me to relive them.

In seconds they surround me. I immediately recognize them. One is named Alexander, I used to call him “Uncle Alex,” he was the closest thing to a dad that I had ever known. Next to Lester he’d been my best friend—up until the Ceremony of course. He was pretty lanky for goblin and he was barely six feet tall. He had a mop of blond hair and his nose was even more crooked than what’s usual for goblins—and that’s saying something.

There was also Orion and Alden—one of the goblins’ only twins. They were my sword and crossbow trainers though they look so alike that I couldn’t tell you which taught me what. Javan and Inga taught me history and math. Macaria and Siv had been two of the doctors who had given me magic. And the last one there was a magic instructor who had lost an eye when he tried to help me with my sorcery, his name was Hagan and his eye patch made him look a lot more intimidating than I remembered him being.

I was trapped and horribly outnumbered. I knew I couldn’t escape without magic but I also knew that I would never resort to that—they knew it too.

“Hello, Oliver.” Orion said in an icy voice that made me feel like I was cocooned in a blanket of snow.

I cleared my throat and said “Orion.” I mentally congratulated myself when my voice came out even.

Alexander seized my arm and put his lips to my ear, “Just let us take you, Ollie, please I don’t want to hurt you.” He threw me back as if he had just whispered some kind of threat to me.

Having Alex treat me such a way hurt ten times worse than when I hit the brick wall behind me. The others snickered as I grimaced, I could feel blood soaking the back of my shirt.

“I don’t want to hurt you guys.” I finally spoke up.

Javan apparently found that funny because he laughed and said, “You don’t want to hurt us? What are you going to do? Set your magic on us? We all know you wouldn’t do that especially with so many innocents walking around all willy nilly.”

I set my jaw and gave a weak, “Shut up.” But that just reinforced Javan’s laughter.

“King Avon sent us. You think you’re so clever, boy.” Siv sneered. “But we’ve been on to you since you left Jamestown.”

I involuntarily shuddered. I had lost control, I was scared and I knew that the goblins were going to take me. I hadn’t fought the feelings and once again I woke up in ruins and bodies.

I closed my eyes and didn’t open them until I had gathered my bearings and was sure I wouldn’t have another episode with my magic. “If you knew I was here why didn’t you come sooner?”

“Because you’re doing us a favor by wiping out the mortals. You’re a smart boy surely you must know by now King Avon’s plans?” Macaria drawled out.

“Plans? What plans?” I asked but something told me I already knew— I just didn’t want to acknowledge that. The goblins are greedy, that much became clear after my surgery, and they don’t want to share the world. They want it all. They want to rule over everything. The goblins’ realm isn’t enough—nothing will ever be enough.

Inga snickered at my ignorance and pushed me to the ground where I landed in a pile of rusty nails and broken glass. I took a sharp intake of breath and fought hard to keep the salty tears from falling.

“The king’s going to let you go. This time. You are doing more good for him out here than you would be doing back at the kingdom. But I swear you make one bad move, if you so much as think about leaving this Yew Nork without my permission I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

If his words didn’t scare me so much I would have corrected him into saying “New York.”

Orion stepped back and impatiently motioned for Alex to step forward. He looked at me apologetically before taking a fist full of my shirt and smacking my head against the pavement and trash underneath me. “Stay in state, boy, go anywhere outside of it and I don’t have to tell you what will happen.”

I was definitely feeling the blood loss now. My vision doubled and weird colors danced across my line of sight. I thought I might throw up but I managed to keep it down—I could feel the tears flowing down my face I wasn’t about to show any more weakness, not in front of them.

Someone spat in my face and I’m pretty sure they were talking to me but I couldn’t concentrate long enough to catch it. Vaguely I heard someone shouting “Stop” and “leave him alone,” but it was like being on the end of a long distance call with bad reception. I heard what sounded like a hundred fleeing footsteps and a stranger kneeled at my side.

A gentle voice whispered to me soothingly, “Hang in there, kid, it’s going to be okay.”

And then everything went dark and I knew no more.

3: Chapter 2

When I finally come around I feel a comfortable mattress underneath my sore form and a pile of blankets weighing me down. I refuse to open my eyes until my situation becomes clear. There certainly wasn’t anything like this in my ally and if the goblins had taken me to their realm then I would be rotting in a prison cell.

Trying hard not to make it too obvious I shifted on the bed as if in my sleep. As I moved, my back seared and bandages harshly rubbed across the still fresh wounds. I bit my lip and swallowed a cry of pain. I knew better than to lay so rigidly when I was pretending to be asleep from years of hiding so ignoring the protests that spread through my body I relaxed into the bunk.

I suddenly became aware of the smell that pleasantly filled the room. It was like nothing I had ever smelt before. The goblins only ever ate grey lumpy junk that I’m pretty sure shouldn’t be edible and since I was eleven all I’d ever had was whatever food others threw out.

My stomach growled on its own accord.

“Are you hungry?” Came the level voice from the night before. It was still unidentifiable, and that scared me.

I cautiously opened my eyes and surveyed the room. I was in a small single story house that appeared to be slowly falling apart with lack of care, and lying on a surprisingly comfortable cot in the corner of what appeared to be a kitchen. Standing by the stove was a mortal man. His hair was a light brown and a bald spot sat on the top of his head. He wore a brown tweed jacket and a tie that looked as if it’d been run through the ground. His eyes were blue and they sparkled kindly, looking at me with worry and the utter most care.

But I knew I couldn’t trust him. If this man were to find me out and learn my secrets he wouldn’t look at me gently. If he knew of the deaths I’d caused he wouldn’t be offering up his food or bandaging my wounds. This man was a threat because the second he learned my past he’d give me to the goblins.

“Are you hungry, son?” He repeated.

“I’m not your son.” I said flatly. I wasn’t anyone’s son, not my mom, Angela’s, not the goblins’, not Alex’s and definitely not this guy’s.

“Your right. My mistake. But you really must eat something; it’ll help you to get your strength up.”

“I don’t even know you.” I said without taking the offered plate despite what my empty stomach was telling me to do.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know where my manners are today. You can call me Johnny. And what, if I may ask, is your name?”

I stared at him without answering. If I answered truthfully it could work to his advantage were he to figure me out. But on the other hand he was being kinder than anyone had ever treated me before, save maybe Lester. Maybe it would be okay to pretend to be a normal kid? Just for today?

“Oliver. My name is Oliver.” I finally said, with suspicion dripping from my every word.

Johnny looked pleasantly surprised that I had responded. He accepted my name with absolute trust, not doubting for a second that the boy he found bleeding in an ally was telling the truth. He smiled warmly and said, “Will you please eat, Oliver? You lost a lot of blood yesterday and I would hate for all my doctoring skills to go to waste.”

Again I hesitated. But eventually pure hunger won out and I accepted the plate. It was piled high with strange looking foods that I’d never seen before. “What is this?” I asked before I could talk myself out of it.

For a moment he looked surprised by the question but finally he said with unwavering kindness, “That’s scrambled eggs and bacon. Haven’t you ever had it before?”

I shook my head and nibbled on it. I decided I liked it. “No, but this is great! Where I come from the go—” I stopped mid-sentence horrified by my slip. I should know better by now! “Um….. Where I come from we don’t have this.” I finished lamely.

Johnny eyed me curiously and for one horrible minute I was sure he was going to start asking me about where I come from. But instead when he opened his mouth all he said was, “You know I have a daughter about your age. How old are you?”

I have to stop and think about that one. It had been years since I’d celebrated my birthday and I never got particularly excited about it either. To me it didn’t mark my birth, rather it marked the day I killed so many goblins at my Ceremony. “Fourteen, sir.”

“Ah, she’s thirteen. And you don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ Johnny will do just fine.”

“Yes sir….. Um, Johnny.”

He smiled at me and stood up. Returning to the stove he began cleaning up after himself. “You should rest, Oliver. You need it.”

I would have protested but already I felt my eyelids drooping. I sighed contently and sunk under my mountain of covers.

When I woke up the next morning I didn’t see Johnny. Instead a small girl was sitting next to me writing in a journal fiercely and biting down on her tongue. I knew immediately that she was Johnny’s daughter. She had his sparkling blue eyes that held just as much care as his did; only hers had imagination and wonder rolling around in them too. Her light hair fell across her shoulders and overgrown bangs hung in her face almost reaching down to her freckled nose. She looked so much like Johnny it was scary; the only difference I could see was her small frame. She looked more like an eleven-year-old than a teenager.

It was a while before she finally looked up from whatever she was writing. When she saw me awake she smiled crookedly. “Hello. My name is Carson. A little weird, I know, but I like it okay. You’re Oliver, right?”

I nodded in response.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. How do you feel?”

“Um…. Okay.”

“Liar.” She said a little smugly.

“What?”

“I called you a liar.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t feel fine. I can tell when someone is lying to me. So, how do you feel?” Her tone left no room for argument.

“Uh…..”

“Do us both a favor and reply honestly.”

“Horrible.” I finally said, accepting my defeat.

“See, now was that so hard? I’ll get you some pain killers.” She stood and left the room with a little bounce to her step. I wasn’t sure if I liked Carson or not. The goblins teach their young to never show or admit to weakness. Once, they had publicly executed an elder for crying when his wife died. They stamp it out of the small children with abuse and neglect—I still have scars from some of my own beatings. And yet there I was telling a mortal, no less, that I didn’t feel good.

She returned holding a glass of water and two small pills. She handed them to me and returned to the seat at my bedside. The look on her face clearly said she wouldn’t budge until I’d taken them. Feeling a little awkward under Carson’s stare I took the medicine as fast as possible.

She smiled at me as if I had just achieved something grand.

For the next two weeks I stayed in the small run-down home. Johnny rarely let me up and on my feet under the precaution that it wouldn’t be a good idea to overwork myself after the dangerous amount of blood I’d lost. Every morning Johnny made breakfast and the three of us sat around until he had to leave for work. Carson stayed behind with me. I still wasn’t quite sure what I thought of her yet. She liked to write in her journal and she was painstakingly honest. Just as she had warned me my first time here she always caught on to my lies and it wasn’t often that she would let them slide. She always called me out on what I was doing wrong but she was loyal and undoubtedly caring.

I liked it here. For the first time I was happy but I knew I couldn’t stay. I had already pushed it by remaining there so long. I was putting them in danger. It was time for me to leave.

“Erm, Carson?” I said uneasily weeks after my arrival.

“Yeah?” She said absently as she continued writing in her journal.

“Thanks and all but I really have to get going.”

“What?” She said she startled.

“My—My parents will be wondering where I’ve gone off to,” I invented.

She rolled her eyes at me and set down her book, “I told you I can tell when I’m being lied to.”

“But I’m not lying!”

“Yes you are.”

I sighed deeply and said, “Look, Carson, I wish I could stay, I really do. But I—I can’t.”

She looked me in the eye and I forced myself not to look away. The goblins discourage making eye contact, they say it is disrespectful, but I needed Carson to believe me and something told me I would have better luck leaving with her around than Johnny.

And I was speaking honestly. I did want to stay. It was warm and nice here. But if I stayed I would be putting Johnny and Carson both at risk. When the goblins decided it was time to take me back to their realm they would not hesitate to kill whoever stood in their way. And even if the goblins just let me be sooner or later I was bound to have an episode.

“I believe you, but I can’t let you go.” I heard Carson say.

“Why not?” I exclaimed with more than a little panic. I couldn’t kill anyone else—especially people like Johnny and Carson.

“You’re still recovering.”

“You don’t understand! If I stay then—then—you’ll—” I was shouting at her, stuttering and trying to make her see that I was dangerous without telling her directly. But she wouldn’t see. She kept telling me I had to stay. I was on the verge of a panic attack and that knowledge just evoked more panic. I knew what that would lead to.

I could feel my magic rising inside of me. My skin was burning and slowly turning red as the sorcery built up within me. Images flashed through my mind’s eye: A little girl dead in Jamestown, King Maven unmoving at my feet, people crying and begging to be spared, a little boy sobbing over his father’s body. My heart rate excelled so much that it should have killed me as the memories continued. It felt like one by one the magic was tearing apart my molecules and atoms—gnawing at my sanity and ripping me apart from the inside out.

I gasped and tumbled out of the cot. My lungs burned and begged for breath but I couldn’t comply. “Carson! You have to run! Go away! I don’t want to hurt you! Please!” I somehow managed to choke out.

In the distance I heard her light foot falls and her desperate voice calling, “Dad! Daddy, something is happening to Oliver.”

I don’t know how far she made it because at that precise moment the magic exploded out of me. My body gave out and I fell unconscious into a pile of wreckage.

4: Chapter 3

I wake up to a headache pounding behind my eyes. My back is sticky with blood and my stomach is tied in impossible knots. My skin still burns from my magic and to top it off the world around me is spinning uncontrollably.

I wrinkle my nose and bring a hand to the side of my head. As I wait for the nausea to pass I think back to what’d happened.

Pain. Brick upon brick falling from the house and exploding outward toward me. Carson running. Death.

I can’t recall much more.

As quickly as I can while still confined to my injuries I stumble to my feet. It feels like I might throw up but I somehow manage to keep it down. I survey my surroundings with growing dread. Johnny’s house is completely demolished. The ruins are strewn all across his property; I even see a big chunk of slab in a rolling hill in the distance. Nothing is recognizable and I can’t distinguish the ceiling from the floor.

A lump forms in my throat as tears burn my eyes and nose. I drop to my knees and choke out their names. Over and over again I whisper, “Johnny. Carson.” They had shown me kindness when I was all alone. Johnny had taken me in without a thought and it ended in his death. Even Carson and my annoying conversations didn’t seem so bad anymore. I should have left sooner. I shouldn’t have let them take me here.

I remembered everyone that had lost their lives because of me:

3 in Mississippi

1 in Virginia

5 in Tennessee

7 in Iowa

4 in Missouri

6 in Organ

9 in Washington

10 in Maryland

11 in Florida

2 in New York

My chest tightens as I run through my list. It seems to go on forever, a never ending agenda of my sins against humanity. So many lives stolen—some before they even got the chance to live. The children that I’d orphaned. The women I’d widowed. The men I’d killed. It was wrong. I wished desperately that I could join them. Over and over again I used magic that made me feel like I was dying. Over and over again I survived only to find another number to add to my list.

“Oliver?” I hear behind me.

I look up sharply and see the outline of a girl running toward me. I cover my ears and wildly shake my head. “It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.” I say repeatedly as I rock back and forth.

I feel a small hand on my shoulder and gentle fingers pulling my hands from my ears. She shushes me smoothly. She doesn’t say it’ll be okay. She doesn’t say that it’s over because despite her limited knowledge on what just occurred even she knew those words would be false and empty.

Finally I look up and stare into her wet eyes. “Carson? Are—are you okay?”

She merely shrugged and sat back.

“Liar. I know when I’m being lied to. So, how do you feel? And do us both a favor and reply honestly.” I said.

She chuckled weakly and looked up to meet my gaze. “I can’t find my dad.”

“W—well you made it out. Maybe he did too?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” She didn’t sound too hopeful. “What happened Oliver? Did you cause this?”

I scoot back from her and pull my knees to my chest. Carson deserved to know, especially if I just killed her dad. If the goblins grew aware that I informed someone of my position we could be in serious trouble with King Avon. Not to mention she would hate and fear me.

“If I told you then you’d be in danger.” I whispered as I sat my chin atop my knees.

She set her jaw in defiance and said, “My house is destroyed and my father is missing. I have a right to the truth.” She crossed her arms and looked at me with a look that clearly said she wouldn’t move until I told her.

“You’re right. But not here. I can’t tell you out in the open, they might be listening.”

“Who might be—”

“Not here Carson! Follow me.”

I stood to my feet and hid my pained grimace. I was about to tell this girl the secret that was keeping me alive, I wasn’t about to complain about a something as insignificant as my back. Unfortunately, I could tell she noticed my slight limp so when she opened her mouth I cut her off by saying “I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

I ignored her and lead her in some woods behind the debris of her home. I hardly noticed the pain that shot through me with every step I took and concentrated only on going deep enough that the goblins would have no chance at hearing.

I tried to tell myself it was like every other time: find new home, be threatened by my past, have an episode, add to my list, run from the goblins. However I just knew it was different—I had personally known Johnny and I was repaying his kindness by putting his daughter in jeopardy.

I reprimanded myself the whole time that I stumbled on tree roots and stepped over rabbit holes. We had only walked for an hour at most when I heard Carson’s irritated voice behind me, “Slow down! Goodness. Aren’t we far enough yet? My feet hurt, I’m tired and quite frankly I’m cranky.”

“The last one was pretty obvious.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Sorry. I can see a clearing up a head. We’ll stop there.”

No sooner had we made it than Carson collapsed on the ground as if she had just run a marathon. “Oh my gosh! That was the worst hour of my life!”

I almost grinned but I stopped myself quickly. In a few short minutes Carson would hate me and worse than that by telling her I’d be dragging her head long into a new, dangerous world. One that I knew first hand was impossible to escape.

I should have refused to tell her. Should have let her return to the ruins of her life, find Johnny if he survived the explosion and try to forget about the boy who slept in her kitchen. But I was lonely and I was selfish.

I hastily put together a camp and in record timing we were sitting next to a warm fire. Carson was absorbing the heat and massaging her sore muscles dramatically.

“Carson, if I tell you this there is no turning back. You will see things. Horrible things that exceed your worst nightmare. If I tell you the truth it could kill you. People say the truth will set you free, but this time it just isn’t that simple. It will tear you apart very slowly and in the worst way possible—it will use your mind against you, it will take your worst fears and magnify them tenfold.”

With each passing word Carson’s face fell and I could only imagine the fear that was gripping her. What would it be like to live a normal life for thirteen years and then have it stolen away in a heartbeat? I felt guilty but in all fairness I was giving her the chance to go back—even I knew that was a weak attempt to justify what I was about to tell her.

With a trembling voice she said, “Y—you speak as if from experience?”

I only nodded but otherwise ignored the question, “This is your chance to turn back. You can go home, find your dad, and maybe even rebuild your house? You can lead a normal life, save yourself from what claims me daily.”

Carson sat there for a good twenty minutes. She sat there shaking and sweating, getting paler the longer she thought on my offer. Finally she took a breath and said, “No. I can’t just go back. Not after what just happened. The curiosity would drive me crazy anyways so might as well go mad with good reason.”

I almost told her that didn’t make since but decided against it and instead focused on what she was saying— as selfishly as I wanted company I didn’t want to endanger her with the goblins or my magic. “Are you sure?”

She hesitated only a second before sitting up straight, nodding and saying “Yeah, I’m sure.”

I gathered my thoughts before launching into my story. I spared her the details—or maybe me the shame—about the murders I committed but I was sure to express the danger. I spoke of how I reached the goblins care and the form of “discipline” they used when I was small. I told her about the open-heart surgery I had to receive magic but conveniently forgot to mention how the goblins refused to give me amnesia or in any way numb it. I talked about the Redemption Ceremony and running for my life at eleven-years-old. Everything leading up to my coming to her house was said—except for a few minor details of course. The deaths I’d caused were mine to bear alone.

The whole time I spoke I stared at the fire, stubbornly refusing to look her in the eye. When I finished telling my story I gathered all my courage and looked up. Her face was sheet-white and there were tears gathering in her eyes. “T—this is a joke, right?”

I held my breath and with all my might focused on moving the ashes floating in the cool, night time air. Slowly they took the form of a dragon that danced on the tip of the fire. Carson was so shocked that she fell flat on her back. After a moment of ogling she said, “I—I thought you said the magic’s d—dangerous.”

“It is. Very dangerous. I can only control small spurts like that, and it drains me greatly so I use it sparingly.” I explained. It seemed only then that she noticed the beads of sweat sticking to my forehead and the exhaustion in my voice.

We sat in uncomfortable silence as Carson ran through all the new information. She understandably looked ready to cry and it made me feel like a jerk. I watched her mull over the information silently for what felt like forever. Finally she said, “I—I need time to think. I wanna be alone.” Her voice wasn’t know-it-all like before or playful or anything—it was hard and void of emotion.

I nodded and obliged her by walking into the trees after one last reminder that she couldn’t go back. As I leaned against a lone tree and closed my eyes I was sure she would never forgive me.