To understand the double-thump of a Goblin’s heart, one must look back seven years.

  Neyveli, 1995:

  The air in the Neyveli Government Hospital was thick with the smell of floor wax and ether. Doctors rushed between wards, their footsteps echoing like gunfire against the linoleum.

  “What was her age?” a senior surgeon asked, scrubbing his hands with frantic energy.

  “Might be eleven or twelve,” the fellow doctor responded, checking a clipboard.

  “Have the parents arrived?” the surgeon asked sharply.

  The fellow doctor bowed his head, his voice dropping to a somber whisper. “No. It seems she is an orphan from the local sanctuary. The lady in charge, a woman named Navya, refused to come.”

  The surgeon paused, his brow furrowing. “Refused? Why?”

  “She said the girl was a ‘burden’ anyway. She told us to bury or burn the body as per the hospital’s wish. She won’t even claim the remains.”

  In the hallway, the heavy swing doors burst open. A twelve-year-old boy, his school uniform disheveled and his face streaked with sweat, came running toward the desk.

  “Was Nalini admitted here?” the boy gasped, his chest heaving. “Please! Is Nalini here?”

  The nurse looked up, startled. “Who are you, boy? Listen, an hour ago, a girl involved in a car accident was brought in. But I think… I think she is no more. Let me check the registry.”

  The boy’s eyes filled with hot, stinging tears. “Let me see her. Just once. Please.”

  “Guardian only,” the nurse said, her voice softening but remaining firm. “No one is permitted to see her face, and definitely not a kid like you. It’s horrible in there.”

  As the boy continued to plead, a tall man in a classic black suit approached. The air around him seemed to grow cold, his presence commanding immediate silence. The nurse stood up straight, her eyes widening.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Manish… I didn’t know he was your son. He wants to see the girl’s body.”

  Manish looked down at the boy—Aadhi—and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Aadhi. Listen to me. Stay here. Let me go inside and check.”

  Manish disappeared into the post-mortem room. Minutes crawled by like hours. When he emerged, his face was a mask of professional calm. He knelt in front of Aadhi.

  “It’s not Nalini,” Manish lied, his voice steady. “Nalini is getting treatment in a private ward nearby. The doctors told me not to disturb her for at least a week. She needs total rest.” He squeezed Aadhi’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. She will be alright.”

  While Aadhi found comfort in a lie, the deep shadows of the Underworld buzzed with a different kind of hunger.

  In the subterranean court of the Vampire King, Janaga, the atmosphere was one of irritation. The King sat upon his throne, staring at a map of the Neyveli region. His queen stood beside him, gazing into a mirror that showcased her own gorgeousness.

  “The vamps in Neyveli are starving,” Janaga rumbled. “This new Kartha does not let a single human roam free. He is fast. He is sharp. Within two months of his arrival, he slaughtered twenty of our mixed-bloods roaming the hills. I want to monitor him.”

  He turned to his lead spy, a high-ranking Goblin named Rakhi. “Before I send my pure-bloods into that territory, I need to measure the depth of the well. I need to know the Vessel’s limits.”

  Rakhi stepped forward, bowing low. “Lord Janaga, stepping into a well without knowing its depth is indeed death. You need a measurement. I have trained my younger sister, Raksha, as the perfect infiltrator. She is ready for the surface.”

  The King narrowed his eyes. “A fresher? This mission requires precision. Could she hide her identity?”

  “I taught her the art of total deception,” Rakhi replied. “She does not just wear the skin; she becomes the soul.”

  Janaga leaned back. “Hmph. One opportunity. Take a month or two. Let her target someone close to Kartha’s circle and share the information.”

  “She is already on the mission, my Lord,” Rakhi whispered.

  “Atagirl,” Janaga muttered.

  Suddenly, a massive, muscular pure-blood with proud shoulders stepped from the darkness. “Why wait? I’ll finish him now!”

  “Not yet, Ruek,” the King snapped. “Everything about this Vessel is new. He doesn’t use standard weaponry. He wears a suit and a mask. We wait for the intel.”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The next day, Aadhi sat at his school desk, his heart heavy. He hadn’t slept the entire night, haunted by rumors of the accident. He stared at the empty seat next to him—Nalini’s place. It felt like a void in his world.

  Suddenly, the classroom door opened. A girl walked in, her head slightly bowed. She moved toward the empty desk and sat down.

  Aadhi’s heart leaped into his throat. “Nalini!”

  He reached out, grabbing both of her hands with a desperate grip. “I’m so sorry, Nalini! For what I did… for the fight we had… I thought I lost you!”

  The girl flinched, a flash of confusion crossing her face before she smoothed it over. “It’s… it’s alright,” she said softly.

  Aadhi pulled back, staring at her. He noticed something off. “What happened to your eyes? They aren’t normal. They’re… bright green.”

  The girl didn’t blink. “It’s because of the painkiller drugs the doctors used during the surgery. The side effects will fade soon.”

  Aadhi watched her with a wide, relieved smile, but “Nalini” looked at him with cold, analytical curiosity, as if he were a specimen under a microscope.

  When the school bell rang, the girl did not go to the orphanage. She walked deep into the outskirts of the village, entering a dilapidated old house hidden by overgrown vines. Inside, a young man of about nineteen sat waiting. His eyes, too, were a piercing, unnatural green.

  “How was the first day of the job, Raksha?” the boy asked, his voice echoing in the empty room.

  “Not good,” Raksha replied, her form shimmering for a split second before stabilizing into Nalini’s shape. “I couldn’t fetch this girl’s memories, Rakhi. Her mind was… shattered by the trauma of the accident before she died.”

  Rakhi, disguised in human form, nodded encouragingly. “That’s okay. Since it’s your first time, it is normal. Think about the teachings. To truly mimic her, your neural veins must root and merge with her brain tissue. Only then can you see what she saw and love what she loved.”

  The following afternoon, the sun hung high over the Neyveli hills, casting long, geometric shadows through the tall windows of the regional administrative office.

  Inside, the atmosphere remained quiet until a man wearing a wide-brimmed black hat stepped into the lobby. “Is Mr. Manish here?” the man asked. “I need to meet him.”

  The receptionist, caught off guard by the man’s striking appearance, asked him to wait. She picked up the telephone, dialed Manish’s private line, and whispered into the receiver. After a brief confirmation, she looked back at the stranger.

  “Your full name, sir?”

  “It’s Francisco Pedro Almeida,” he replied.

  “Let him in,” Manish’s voice crackled through the intercom.

  When Pedro opened the heavy oak door, he found Manish sitting behind a desk piled with blueprints and ledgers. Manish looked up, a rare smile breaking across his stern face.

  “How are you, Pedro? Long time no see.”

  “Good, Manish,” Pedro replied, leaning against the doorframe. “It seems like you’ve made quite a life for yourself here in Neyveli. Your name is already becoming quite popular in these parts.”

  Manish chuckled, gesturing for Pedro to take a seat. “It’s likely because I bought the Ockslaw Mansion. The bungalow was too beautiful to pass up.”

  “The bungalow near the hospital?” Pedro asked, raising an eyebrow. “I figured that out quickly.”

  “You did?”

  “I found your Ambassador parked in the driveway,” Pedro noted dryly.Manish signaled to a maid who was busy dusting the corner of the office. He asked her to bring tea for both of them. As soon as she set the tray down and retreated, closing the door behind her, the warmth in the room evaporated. Manish leaned forward, his eyes sharp.

  “Now, tell me why you're really here, Pedro.”

  “I came to warn you,” Pedro said, his voice dropping an octave. “Yesterday, Master Jayant and I fought a vampire on the outskirts of the district.”

  Manish raised a brow. “Still being accompanied by Guru Jayant? I thought you had become the new Head of Section D.”

  “I am,” Pedro admitted. “But I don't have enough experience yet, so I asked our Master to guide me for a few days. But that’s not the point. The point is the vamps—they are targeting you.”

  Manish leaned back in his chair, a dark amusement playing on his lips. “That means I’m becoming popular among the vampire society. That’s a good thing, isn't it? It means I’m doing my job.”

  “They are planning something big, Manish. Be careful,” Pedro warned, ignoring the bravado. “Master told me to stay with you and monitor your actions for the time being.”

  Manish laughed, a loud, echoing sound. “Does that old man still think I’m a kid?”

  “It’s not like that,” Pedro countered. “You always ignored his guidelines and instructions during your training phase in Section D. Master feels that one wrong decision shouldn't be the end of your life.”

  Manish sighed, conceding the point. “Alright, Pedro. But how do we know for sure that I’m being searched for?”

  “We captured one of the vamps alive,” Pedro replied grimly. “We tested him with truth serum. Your name was the only thing he would scream.”

  Manish went silent for a moment, the weight of the news settling in the room. He looked at the window, then back at his old friend.

  “That’s enough business for now,” Manish said, standing up. “You haven’t seen my son yet, have you? I’ll introduce you to Aadhi during dinner tonight. Just… try not to tell him too much about what we really do.”

  Later that day, the sun began its descent behind the Munnar peaks, casting a bruised purple hue over the school grounds. Aadhi, hoping for a quiet walk home, was instead cut off by a group of local young adults. They were the neighborhood terrors—too old to be in school, but too lazy to be anywhere else.

  “Hey, kid,” the leader barked, blocking the path. “We asked you to bring the money. Where is it?”

  Aadhi tightened his grip on his bag strap. “I didn't bring any.”

  “What? How dare you!” the man stepped forward, his shadow looming over Aadhi. “Because of you, my brother’s knee is broken. You pushed him down. You’re rich, aren't you? Why are you hesitating to pay the compensation for his treatment?”

  “That wasn't intentional,” Aadhi defended, his voice shaking but firm. “It was an accident. Besides, your brother has a band-aid on his knee, but he’s been running and playing all day in the school. I doubt there’s actually an injury.”

  The leader’s face reddened. “It’s an inner injury! It doesn't show on the surface, you little brat!” His eyes suddenly dropped to Aadhi’s wrist. “Wait… that’s a Titan-branded watch. Give it to us for now to settle the debt. You can pay the balance tomorrow.”

  “No!” Aadhi pulled his arm back. “I won’t give it to you. My mom gave this to me.”

  The group moved in, grabbing Aadhi’s arms and locking him in place. Just as they reached for the watch, a cold, sharp voice sliced through the tension.

  “Stop it.”

  The group turned. Nalini stood there, her expression vacant and her bright green eyes fixed on them.