The village had entered a strange silence after the battle with Garrick's adventurers. The goblins no longer laughed as freely around the campfires. The younger ones still shuddered at the memory of steel flashing in the moonlight, and the elders spoke only in whispers of how close death had crept to their door.
Yet the settlement itself refused to crumble. Timber walls were patched, fires lit nightly, and scouts sent into the forest in wider arcs. The work was unrelenting, but there was a new kind of unity in it—born of necessity, fear, and hope in equal measure.
At the center of this fragile harmony stood **Elira**, the priestess.
She had not left the healer's hut since Mira's confrontation. Day after day, she worked tirelessly—binding wounds, brewing poultices, offering comfort to grieving goblins who had lost kin. Her hands glowed faintly whenever she prayed, her magic stitching flesh faster than most human healers could dream.
The goblins whispered about her constantly. Some called her a blessing. Others looked on her with unease, recalling her association with the very humans who had tried to kill them.
Luminus noticed it all.
He watched from the edge of the clearing one morning as Elira worked, her hair tied back, her once pristine robes tattered from use. A goblin child clung to her sleeve, smiling weakly despite the bandages across his chest. Elira returned the smile, though her eyes were shadowed with exhaustion.
Luminus hummed softly to himself. In his past life, before the slime, he had managed teams of people. He knew how fragile trust could be, how easily suspicion could rot through unity. Elira's presence was both a gift and a gamble.
"Still doubting her?"
The voice was Mira's. She emerged from the shadows, armor polished, blade at her side. Her tone was respectful, but her eyes were as sharp as ever.
"I don't doubt her effort," Luminus replied evenly. "But effort alone doesn't reveal intent."
Mira crossed her arms. "Exactly why I keep watch. She has power—old power. I don't know if she even understands it herself. But if she turns on us…"
Luminus's form shifted faintly, his slime-body rippling like water disturbed by a stone. "Then I will deal with it. That's my responsibility."
Mira inclined her head but did not argue further. She had already made her own silent vow to act if Luminus hesitated.
---
Later that day, Luminus summoned Elira to the great hall—or what passed for one. It was still little more than a wide hut reinforced with timber and stone, but within its walls decisions were made, and that gave it weight.
Elira entered quietly, her hands clasped before her. Mira and Kairn flanked Luminus, while Rugo lounged near the doorway, his golden eyes unblinking. Zerath leaned against the wall, arms folded, expression unreadable.
The atmosphere was heavy. Elira felt it press on her as she bowed slightly.
"You wanted to see me… Lord Luminus?" she asked, her voice faint but steady.
"Yes." Luminus's tone was calm but carried authority. "Your healing has saved many. For that, you have my gratitude. But gratitude does not erase the truth—you came here as part of a group that attacked my people. You claimed to be forced into it, yet Mira witnessed you using a power not found in ordinary healing magic. Before I decide what place you hold here, I need the truth."
Elira flinched. She could feel Mira's gaze like a blade on her neck. Rugo's growl rumbled faintly.
"I…" She faltered. Her hands trembled slightly. "I don't know how to explain it. Since I was a child, I've had this… light. It heals, yes, but it is not the same as other clerics'. The Church told me it was a blessing from the gods. But sometimes… sometimes, it feels like it doesn't come from them at all."
Zerath tilted his head. "Then from where?"
Elira shook her head helplessly. "I don't know."
Silence stretched.
Finally, Luminus spoke, his voice softer. "Do you intend harm to me or my people?"
Her eyes widened. "No! Never. I—" She dropped to her knees, her words spilling out. "I don't belong with Garrick. I don't belong with the Church. All I've ever wanted is to heal, not to destroy. If you'll allow me… let me stay here. Let me serve. Even if you never trust me fully, I'll prove with my actions that I mean no harm."
Her voice cracked. Tears glimmered in the corners of her eyes, though she kept her head bowed.
Mira's hand twitched toward her blade, but she didn't draw it. She was watching Luminus.
The slime lord was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, he slid forward until he was directly before Elira. His body shimmered faintly as he extended a tendril of slime and touched her hand.
"I don't know what your light is. I don't know if it will one day threaten us. But… I can see truth in your eyes. So I will accept your oath. You will live here, and you will serve this village."
Elira gasped softly, looking up at him.
Luminus's tone grew sharper. "But understand this—betrayal will not be forgiven. If you turn against us, I will end you myself."
The hall was silent except for the crackle of the firepit.
Elira pressed her forehead to the floor. "…I swear on my life. I will not betray you, Lord Luminus."
---
The mood in the village shifted over the following days. Elira's oath spread quickly among the goblins, carried by whispers and retellings. Suspicion didn't vanish, but it lessened. Where once goblins had hesitated to accept her help, now they began to come more willingly. Children even trailed after her as she gathered herbs, laughing softly when she smiled.
Still, Mira never let her guard down. She shadowed Elira whenever she could, sometimes openly, sometimes unseen. The two women rarely spoke, but when their eyes met, the tension was palpable.
Kairn, on the other hand, was more forgiving. "If the Boss says she's good, she's good enough for me," he declared bluntly, his booming laughter easing some of the unease.
Rugo remained watchful, sniffing Elira whenever she passed, as though trying to pin down the truth hidden in her scent.
Zerath seemed the least concerned, though his occasional long stares suggested he was turning over possibilities in his mind.
As for Luminus, he observed it all. His role had become clearer—leader, mediator, protector. But deep inside, he felt a strange unease when he thought of Elira's power. It resonated with something, something buried in his evolving core.
He wondered if fate had placed her here for a reason.
---
One night, as the moon rose high, Elira left the healer's hut and wandered toward the forest's edge. She knelt there, hands clasped, and whispered prayers to a sky full of stars.
"I don't know who's listening," she murmured, her voice trembling. "The gods? Or someone else? But please… don't let me hurt them. Don't let this light inside me destroy what little peace I've found."
Behind her, unseen, Mira stood in the shadows, hand on her blade. She listened but said nothing.
And for the first time, Mira felt a sliver of doubt pierce her own certainty. Perhaps the priestess was not an enemy. Perhaps she was something else entirely—something they could not yet name.
The forest wind stirred, carrying with it the faintest echo of laughter, though no one could say from where.
Far away, beyond the forest and mountains, the **Church of Lumina** stirred in its great cathedral. Reports had reached them of Garrick's failure. And whispers of a "slime lord" protecting monsters had begun to circulate.
The Church's eyes were turning toward the forest.
And soon, their hands would follow.