The Last Goblin __link__ Official

Not the sharp loneliness of a thief caught in a trap, but the deep, hollow loneliness of a song with no one left to hear it.

The elves had sailed into the West. The dwarves had sealed their mountains against the clamor of a race that no longer believed in the pickaxe’s echo. The dragons had grown still, their bones becoming chalk ridges for shepherds to walk. the last goblin

He took a deep breath. The green fire in his eyes flickered. Not the sharp loneliness of a thief caught