Goblin’s day off: the story of Eliot
Eliot was a young man working in his family’s printing business—a modest office where postcards, restaurant menus, pamphlets, and books were brought into being. Of all the things they printed, books were Eliot’s true love. He read whenever he could, and it was his quiet honor to be the first reader of every newly printed volume, its pages still warm with fresh ink.
He was the youngest in the family, with two older sisters. Their father led the business as its head, while his sisters served as his right hand, managing much of the daily work. Despite being well into his twenties, Eliot was far more often under his sisters’ protection than they were under his. He accepted this with a mix of gratitude and mild embarrassment, never quite feeling the need to challenge it.
One ordinary day, his mother—who had spent her life as a housewife—received an unexpected letter from the court. It concerned an inheritance she was about to receive from her uncle. Not a recently deceased uncle, but one who had been missing for so long that he was now legally considered dead. Years had passed since anyone had last seen him. Eliot could only vaguely recall the man, remembering a brief encounter from early childhood before his uncle vanished without a trace, never to be heard from again.
The inheritance was a mansion located in a remote outback region, far from any town and surrounded by vast, ancient forests. Eliot’s great-uncle had been a respected businessman in his time, and the estate reflected his success. The company he once owned had already been claimed by closer relatives, and with the court’s ruling—and the consent of the remaining family—the mansion was to pass to Eliot’s mother.
She wanted nothing to do with it.
Without much hesitation, she was ready to sell the estate sight unseen, unwilling to take on the burden of a forgotten house in the middle of nowhere. But before any final decision could be made, Eliot asked for one thing: a chance to see it.
As a passionate reader and a dreamer at heart, his imagination had already begun to wander. Perhaps the house was haunted, its halls echoing with whispers of the past. Perhaps ghosts lingered in darkened rooms, or hidden riches lay buried in a cellar or locked away in a secret safe.
Whatever awaited them, Eliot felt it clearly. He was in the mood for an adventure.
Eliot arrived at the mansion just past midday, under a clear sky and warm sun. From the outside, the estate looked exactly as he had imagined—aged, weather-worn, and forgotten—but stepping inside only confirmed it.
The interior mirrored the neglect of the exterior. Cobwebs stretched across corners like faded curtains, dust lay thick on every surface, and the air itself felt heavy, as though untouched for decades. Footsteps stirred gray clouds from the floor, briefly revealing what the house might once have been before settling back into stillness. It was obvious no one had set foot here in a very long time.
Eliot began to search the mansion room by room. He wasn’t looking for riches or valuables—gold held little interest for him. Instead, he searched for things worth saving: books, notes, odd objects, anything a future owner might dismiss as junk without understanding its true value. Something forgotten. Something overlooked.
But room after room yielded nothing of note.
At last, he climbed to the top floor, where he found what must once have been his great-uncle’s study. The room felt more personal than the others—a place where someone had lived inside their thoughts. Eliot searched through cabinets and drawers, finding only small trinkets and curios. Interesting, perhaps, but nothing that truly held his attention.
Then he saw it. A large cabinet filled with books. Finally, something worth stopping for. As he opened the cabinet door, his eyes caught on something unexpected—a small toy resting on a low table beside the cabinet. A familiar shape. A memory. A piece from a toy set he remembered from childhood. He stepped closer, drawn in by nostalgia.
When he released the cabinet door, the old spring—still stubbornly functional—snapped it shut a little too hard. Eliot didn’t notice, but the sudden movement caused the cabinet to shudder. High above it, resting on a deteriorated stand, sat a large orb—smooth and dark, about the size of a bowling ball. The stand, weakened by time, finally gave way.
The orb began to roll.
Eliot, focused entirely on the toy, didn’t see it at first. But the sound—slow, heavy, unmistakable—grew louder. He looked up just in time to see the orb reach the edge, directly above the toy he had been reaching for. Reacting without thought, Eliot lunged forward and caught the orb just before it fell. Startled and relieved, he held it tightly in both hands, his heart pounding. He had no idea what the object was—only that he was glad it hadn’t shattered the small piece of his past lying below.
As he steadied himself, something began to change. The orb reacted to him.
At first, faint symbols appeared on its surface, glowing softly. One by one, strange letters formed—words in a language Eliot had never seen before. He stared, transfixed. And without realizing why or how, he began to read them aloud. The words flowed from his mouth naturally, as if he had always known them. He didn’t understand their meaning, yet he spoke them clearly, his voice steady—like a chant, or a ritual long forgotten.
Before Eliot could fully grasp what was happening, the orb flared with brilliant light.
A flash of light filled the entire room. Eliot was gone. For a brief moment, the orb hovered silently in the air. Then, just as suddenly, it fell—crashing down and shattering the toy beneath it into pieces.
The mansion fell silent once more.
Disclaimer – most of the images used on this website are in game screenshots edited by AI to make them more colourful and appealing, like in the examples bellow. Images in the story of Eliot section are AI generated. They represent the part of Eliot’s story that happened before he came in to the fantasy world.
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