We don't have to wait long for that opportunity. Two days later, we're scouting the edge of what Nerk calls the "Gloomwood" when we encounter another goblin hunting party—larger this time, eight strong, led by Gruk himself. The old shaman stops short when he sees us, his good eye widening with shock.

  "What magic this?" he demands, pointing his bone staff at Nerk. "What creature?"

  Nerk steps forward confidently. Even hunched slightly, he towers over the other goblins. "Still Nerk," he says, his deeper voice carrying easily through the forest. "But stronger now. Master's power make Nerk evolve."

  The hunting party draws back nervously, muttering among themselves. I catch phrases like "old magic" and "forbidden change."

  Gruk stands his ground, though his hand trembles slightly. "Tribe not accept monsters. Tribe not accept traitors!"

  "Tribe accept new leader," Nerk counters, advancing slowly. "Or tribe suffer."

  One brave or stupid goblin lunges forward with a spear. Nerk moves with shocking speed, catching the weapon and snapping it one-handed before lifting the attacker by the throat. He doesn't squeeze—just holds the goblin aloft, demonstrating his new strength.

  "No need fight," Nerk says calmly. "Nerk lead. Make all stronger with master's help. Protect from wolf-demons. Protect from Death Knights."

  He drops the goblin, who scampers back to the group, coughing and wide-eyed.

  Gruk snarls, raising his staff. "Ancient law! Challenge for leadership! Combat decide!"

  Nerk nods, apparently expecting this. He turns to me. "Master allow?"

  "Kick his ass," I reply, stepping back to give them room.

  What follows isn't really a fight, it's a demonstration. Gruk might have been a powerful shaman once, but his withered body is no match for Nerk's transformed physique. When Gruk tries to strike with his staff, Nerk catches it, pulls the old goblin off balance, and pins him to the ground with embarrassing ease.

  "Yield," Nerk demands, one clawed hand resting lightly on Gruk's throat.

  Gruk struggles briefly, then goes limp. "Yield," he croaks. "New leader."

  The other goblins immediately drop to their knees, foreheads pressed to the ground in submission. As they do, something extraordinary happens—I feel their presence through my connection with Nerk. Not direct control, but awareness. A hierarchy has formed with Nerk at the top and these goblins beneath him... and I'm connected to all of it.

  Energy flows through this new network, feeding back into me. My fatigue vanishes, replaced by a surge of power that makes my skin tingle.

  "Stand," Nerk commands the goblins. "Return to cave. Tell tribe Nerk now leader. Prepare feast for master."

  As the goblins scurry to obey, I feel a second connection forming alongside my bond with Nerk. A socket looking for a plug—I can tame another creature now.

  "Can feel it, yes?" Nerk asks, noticing my expression. "Master stronger through Nerk's tribe."

  I nod, flexing my hands as the energy courses through me. "Yeah. Way stronger."

  Nerk grins, his new fangs gleaming. "Good. Many dangers in this world. Master need strong beasts." He gestures toward the goblin cave. "Come. Tonight we feast. Tomorrow we hunt worthy second beast for master's collection."

  That night, we return to the goblin cave as conquering heroes—or at least that's how the tribe treats us. Where before there was hostility, now there's a weird mix of fear and reverence. Nerk leads the procession, his transformed body commanding respect with every step. I follow behind, acutely aware of the power flowing through our connection and the tenuous links I can sense to each member of his new tribe.

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  The cave looks different now—not physically, but in how I perceive it. I can feel the presence of each goblin like points of light in my mental map. Some burn brighter than others, suggesting varied potential.

  "Sit, master," Nerk directs me to a crude throne assembled from scavenged wood and animal bones, Gruk's former seat of power. The old shaman himself now sits in a lesser position, his one good eye watching me with a mixture of resentment and grudging curiosity.

  The feast isn't exactly Michelin-starred cuisine, but after days of berries and roots, the roasted meat and fermented beverages taste frickin' incredible! As I eat, Nerk explains the tribe's resources and territory to me, occasionally barking orders at goblins who scurry to obey.

  "Master now consider second beast," Nerk says during a quiet moment, his voice low enough that only I can hear. "Choose careful. Bond precious."

  "What would you recommend?" I ask, taking another swig of the goblin brew, a fungal concoction that burns like cheap whiskey going down but leaves a surprisingly pleasant aftertaste.

  Nerk considers this seriously, his cat-like eyes narrowing in thought. "Depends on master's need. Protection? Need strong beast, cave bear from mountains or maybe river serpent. Scouting? Sky-raptor good choice. Travel fast? Mountain elk carry master far."

  He leans closer, his voice dropping further. "But Nerk think master need balance. Nerk now strong fighter, good leader. Maybe next beast should be... different strength."

  "Like what?"

  "Magic," he suggests. "Beast with magic power. Help master understand strange world better." He gestures to the cave around us. "Goblin tribe good start, but small power in big world. Many dangers master not yet understand."

  As if on cue, a commotion erupts at the cave entrance. Two goblin scouts burst in, chattering excitedly to each other. They rush to Nerk, falling to their knees.

  "Leader! Leader!" one gasps. "Found hagraven nest in dead tree! Big magic. Very dangerous!"

  "Hagraven?" Nerk's eyes widen, and a noticeable hush falls over the tribe. Even Gruk looks up sharply.

  "What the fuck is a hagraven?" I ask, setting down my drink.

  Gruk cackles from his corner, a wheezing sound like dead leaves scraping stone. "Woman-bird-witch. Powerful magic. Collect eyes and hearts. Make strong potions. Curse enemies."

  One of the scouts nods frantically. "See her dancing around fire. Singing to moon. Bones everywhere."

  "Where?" Nerk demands.

  "Old lightning tree. Big dead oak where three streams meet."

  I can feel the fear radiating from the goblins, a collective tension that makes my skin prickle. Whatever this hagraven is, they're clearly terrified of it.

  "Dangerous choice, master," Nerk warns, but I detect a note of excitement in his voice. "But very powerful. Magic user. Know secrets."

  Gruk hobbles closer, leaning heavily on his staff. His milky eye seems to glow faintly in the dim cave light. "Hagraven not just beast," he says, voice serious now. "Part woman. Part raven. All witch. Collect human fingers for spells. Drink blood. Talk to dead."

  "You think I could tame something like that?" I ask.

  Gruk snorts. "Maybe. Maybe she eat your liver instead."

  "But if master succeed," Nerk adds quickly, "gain powerful ally. Hagraven know old magic. Make potions. See future sometimes. Find hidden things."

  I consider this carefully. A magical creature that could brew potions, cast spells, and potentially teach me more about this world's arcane rules sounds exactly like what I need to complement Nerk's physical prowess.

  "How far to this lightning tree?" I ask.

  "Half day walk," the scout replies. "In shadow valley."

  "We go at dawn," I decide. "Nerk, select three of your strongest to accompany us, but they'll hang back when we approach. I don't want to spook this thing before I get a chance to try bonding with it."

  Nerk nods, already evaluating his tribe members with a critical eye. "Good plan, master. Need careful approach. Hagraven sense magic. Maybe sense master coming."

  As the goblins disperse to prepare for tomorrow's expedition, Gruk lingers near my throne, his wrinkled face unreadable.

  "Hagraven powerful," he says again, more quietly. "But twisted. Mad. If master control hagraven..." He makes a gesture with his gnarled fingers that resembles a crown. "Many will fear master. Many will hunt master too."

  "Worth the risk," I reply, though his warning sends a chill down my spine.

  Gruk nods slowly. "Perhaps. Perhaps." He turns to shuffle away, then pauses. "Take this. Maybe help."

  He presses something into my hand—a small amulet made of twisted roots and what looks disturbingly like a human tooth.

  "What is it?"

  "Protection charm. Small magic only, but..." He shrugs. "Better than nothing against hagraven curse."

  I slip the amulet around my neck, surprised by this gesture from the deposed shaman. "Thanks."

  As I settle into the crude bed of furs prepared for me in a side chamber of the cave, I can't help but wonder what the fuck I'm getting myself into. A half-woman, half-raven witch that collects body parts and casts curses? It sounds like something out of a nightmare.

  But if I can tame it, bind it to my will... the possibilities are intriguing.