The night passed with relative ease for those unaware of what transpired behind closed doors, the goblin town settling into its usual rhythms of watch changes and patrol rotations, torches being extinguished as residents retired to their quarters. But Maui waited some distance away from the guest house, positioned on a stone bench near the town square where she could maintain line of sight to the entrance. She sat there all night, her massive frame hunched forward with elbows on knees, green eyes never leaving that door, hoping—praying—that Byung made it through. Hours crawled by with agonizing slowness, the moon tracking its arc across the star-filled sky while she wrestled with scenarios both triumphant and horrific.
