Chapter 14:
The air still hummed faintly with leftover static, but the worst of the tension had begun to ease. Leo and Tarra had made it past the zone of destruction — past the cratered earth, snapped trees, and churning fogs. Here, the forest was still intact, though scarred. The towering trees, ancient and wise, stood quiet, their leaves rustling in a way that sounded almost like whispers.
Leo let himself relax for the first time in hours. Muscles sore and nerves frayed, he slumped against the mossy roots of a massive tree, breathing heavily. Tarra, always alert, stood nearby. Her optical sensors scanned the area silently, her stance protective but at ease.
"Keep watch, Tarra," Leo murmured.
The golem gave a soft, metallic hum in response. The forest here was quieter than it had any right to be, but at least there weren't titanic monsters rampaging or strange creatures sniffing through the rubble.
Leo's thoughts turned to the antler fragment now stored in his inventory — the same one still pulsing with quiet energy, taken from the shattered horn of a colossal bear titan. The glowing fruits attached to it had proven to be something unusual. He didn't know what they could do yet, but they were unique, and potentially valuable.
His inventory shimmered in his mind's eye. Among the usual monster parts, scrap materials, and remnants from his earlier battles sat the glowing fruits, nestled safely away.
Tarra's head suddenly tilted.
"Something approaches, Master."
Leo immediately stood, shouldering his Aetherpulse Rifle. "Another creature?"
"No hostile energy signatures detected," Tarra replied calmly.
Leo peered ahead, tense. Out from behind a fern-lined path shuffled a strange figure — short, just barely three feet tall, with a comically oversized red hat that drooped over one eye. A lumpy, massive backpack teetered behind him, covered in sacks, straps, and clinking junk. A glowing lantern swung lazily from a wooden staff strapped to its side. On top of the bag? A delicate cage holding a small white bird, glowing faintly.
The bird chirped.
A goblin.
Leo's grip on his weapon relaxed slightly.
The goblin stopped, adjusted his hat, and flashed a grin. One gleaming gold tooth caught the light.
"Well now! If it isn't a live one," the goblin chirped. "Didn't expect to see another pair of boots walkin' this close to the storm's shadow. You, my friend, must be either brave or stupid. Or both. Which is it?"
Leo raised an eyebrow. "Depends on who's asking."
"Pipkin Quickfoot," the goblin said proudly, slapping his chest. "Some call me Goldtooth Pip, but only behind my back, mind you. Wandering merchant, deliverer of curious items, fixer of broken dreams, survivor of improbable accidents — and humble purveyor of wares most wondrous."
He gave a theatrical bow, nearly knocking the bird's cage off his backpack.
The bird chirped again. Leo and Tarra just stared.
"I've been following the smell of burnt titan for days now," Pipkin continued, setting down his pack with a grunt. "You've got that look, you know. Seen too much. Smelled worse. Probably need something sturdy. Or flammable. Or edible. I got all three."
Leo crossed his arms, amused despite himself. "You always talk this much?"
"Only when I'm breathing," Pipkin said cheerfully.
The goblin began unpacking — gears, threads, shimmering powders, salvaged tools, even what looked like a preserved eyeball in a jar. The variety was impressive, even overwhelming.
"I don't carry coin," Leo admitted, eyeing the wares. "Just... parts. Materials."
"Oh, coin? Nasty stuff. Touched by too many fingers. I trade in stories, potential, and things that shine in weird ways."
Pipkin's amber eyes twinkled as he looked Leo up and down. Then his gaze dropped to Leo's hand. His expression shifted subtly.
"Well now," Pipkin muttered, voice softer. "That ring. Curious thing, that."
Leo frowned, instinctively covering the Whispering Ring.
"Didn't say you had to show it. Just saw it. I know the handiwork." Pipkin pointed lazily toward the ring. "That was made by the Obsidian Smith. Down in the Hollow. Black rock and fire rivers, far from here — dangerous place, if it still exists."
"You know who made this?" Leo asked, surprised.
"Oh, sure. Not personally, mind you. But I've seen their work before. Rare pieces. Powerful. Cursed, usually. You ever hear it whisper?"
Leo didn't answer.
Pipkin nodded. "Thought so. Don't worry, I'm not trying to buy it. First-timers get a free fact, no charge. Consider it a... goblin goodwill gesture."
Leo gave a small, skeptical nod. He appreciated the information, even if Pipkin's motives remained as foggy as the forest.
"Well then," Pipkin said brightly, clapping his hands together, "if the ring's not on the table, what is?"
Leo thought for a moment, then reached into his inventory and withdrew the cluster of glowing fruits he had harvested from the antler.
Pipkin's eyes widened. "Oho! Now those are fancy. From the bear, aren't they? You've got a piece of a Primordial, don't you?"
Leo said nothing.
Pipkin didn't press. He reached into one of his many pouches and pulled out a cracked monocle, adjusting it with great ceremony. He leaned in to study the fruits, muttering.
"Still alive... strange aether balance... not corrupted. Deliciously rare."
He looked up at Leo, suddenly serious. "How many you got?"
"Five."
"I'll take three," Pipkin said, already rummaging. "In return, I can offer you this coil of refined silver thread, a pouch of warding chalks — good for traps or ritual circles — and two small vials of quick-hardening golem resin. Good stuff. Used to fix a leg once. On myself."
Leo blinked. "You're a golem?"
"Only when I'm tired," Pipkin said. "Deal?"
Leo gave a short nod. They made the trade.
As Pipkin carefully packed the fruits away into a thick-lined container, Lyric chirped three times.
"Ah, hush, girl," Pipkin muttered. "No danger yet." Then to Leo, "She's sensitive. Sings when things are calm. Goes quiet when they're not."
Leo gave the bird a longer look. "She magical?"
"Depends who you ask. Some say she's a soul trapped in a cage. Others say she's just a very clever bird. I say she's mine, and she's smarter than most people I know."
Leo looked around. The glow of the bioluminescent fungi reflected off Pipkin's lantern, casting long, strange shadows. For the first time in a while, the forest didn't feel quite so threatening.
"Thanks for the trade," Leo said.
"Pleasure doing business with a fellow wanderer," Pipkin replied, hoisting his pack again with a surprising ease. "If you keep heading toward the center of the forest, watch your feet and your thoughts. Both tend to get slippery the deeper you go."
Leo paused. "You know about the Nara Tree?"
Pipkin's grin widened. "I know a great many things, Mr. Makjin. Some of them even useful. But for today, you've had your free lore. Next time, I'm charging."
With a wink and a bird's trill, Pipkin turned and vanished into the mist, humming a song that sounded like it came from a world older than the forest itself.
Leo watched him go, the forest falling quiet again. Then he turned to Tarra.
"Come on," he said. "Let's keep moving."
The soft glow of the fungi lit their path as they pressed deeper into the ancient woods, the titan's power still pulsing faintly in Leo's inventory, and the goblin's cryptic words echoing in his thoughts.