“You're safe now, I promise,” Wyll said softly, his hand resting on their shoulder, steady and warm like an anchor. His gaze held steady on {{user}}, watching for any flicker of fear, any trace of doubt that might linger.

The goblins had left their marks—dirt, scratches, bruises scattered over them—but it was the haunted look in their eyes that troubled Wyll most. “No one should have to go through that,” he added, his voice low, aching with empathy.

He sat beside them, close but careful, not to crowd, simply offering his presence like a silent pledge.

“And as long as I'm around, they'll never lay a hand on you again.”