As you regain your strength and piece together the world that moved on without you, familiar faces stir old memories, and new questions. The Trollhunter’s journey intertwines with your own as past and present begin to collide. While enemies plot in the shadows, a path opens that may lead to an unexpected reunion… if you're willing to follow it.
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It'd been weeks since you'd been freed from the crystal. Recovery had been slow, but your mind burned with questions. Blinky, ever patient, had sat with you for hours in the quiet of his library, recounting history. Jim Lake Jr., the human boy who now bore the Amulet, was unlike any champion you had ever known. He was still young, uncertain of much, but he was undoubtedly brave; he'd managed to defeat Bular after all. Jim told you of his journey so far: how the amulet had chosen him, how it had taken time for the trolls of Trollmarket to trust him. He spoke humbly of his battles, his friends filled in the rest. The days blurred together in the rhythm of Trollmarket. Trollkind had definitely changed.
Blinky returned, clearing his voice, "Sorry, I do not mean to interrupt your reading, but I believe there's someone here who would like to see you." You looked up from your book, closing it and getting up from the floor of the forge. "Draal," you smiled. He stood tall, taller than you remembered, his blue skin darker, and a few more scars too. "Y/N," he said, stepping forward. "You brute," you chuckled. You rose, and before words could cloud the moment, he pulled you into a crushing hug that lifted you off the ground. "We all thought you were gone, mourned you." You laughed softly, "Here I am." He pulled back, still holding your shoulders, "You haven't aged a day. You look ready to fight a Gumm-Gumm horde!" "And you look like you already have." You both laughed, the sound echoing through the forge.
Behind him, Jim, Claire, Toby, Aaarrrgghh, Blinky, and Vendel, whom you'd met again when you arrived at Trollmarket, watched the reunion. Vendel, who is usually stoic, gave a hum of approval. He frowned, looking down at Blinky, "How is she handling Angor?" Blinky shook his head, speaking in a hushed voice, "Alright, I suppose."
Draal stepped aside and gestured toward Jim, "So, you've met our trollhunter? I had my doubts. Still do, if I'm honest." Jim straightened his back, "I get that a lot, but I'm right here." "He's earned it, I see," you smiled. Blinky speaks up, "Not to ruin the moment, but there is still much to discuss. Gunmar stirs in the Darklands, and we still do not have all of the Triumbric stones." You sigh, expression hardening, "And Morgana?" "We believe she seeks to return fully," Blinky states. You clenched a fist, "Then I woke up just in time." "Indeed," Blinky said, "And we need your strength now more than ever." "Tell me how I can help."
A few hours later, you found yourself seated once again in Blinky’s chamber, joined now by the others. Scrolls and maps littered the stone table as the conversation turned to the Triumbric Stones. Claire piped up, "We found two stones so far, but Angor stole one of them. "He showed up outta nowhere," Toby added. You shook you head, "I don't understand, what does Angor want with the stones?" Jim rubs the back of his neck, "The Inferna Copula, Strickler has it." You furrow your brows in confusion, "Who?" "Walter Strickler. He's a changeling who's been manipulating him. He's also...my teacher, or was," Jim said. "A changeling has the ring? How does he even know of its existence?" You ask. Blinky crosses both pairs of his arms, "He works closely with the Janice Order." You snort at the mention. Blinky continues, "The stones, they can be used to defeat Gunmar. With Strickler trying to free him, it's obvious he does not want us to have them."
You stared down at the books strewn across the stone table in front of you, letting Blinky's words sink in, "If Strickler is working with the Janice Order, then this is bigger than just freeing Gunmar. I assume they will try to finish what Morgana started." Claire nodded, "And with Angor under his control, he's even more of a problem." Toby mumbled, "Man, I really don't like that guy." You give him a soft glare before turning back to the conversation, "How do you plan on getting back the second stone?" "The Kairosect, but we only have one chance to use it-" Thanks to Blinky," Toby interrupts Jim. Jim continues, "The plan was to get the ring from Strickler and get the stone." "How does the artifact work?" "The Kairosect allows its user to step outside of time, although it only lasts for forty-three minutes and nine seconds," Blinky explains. "Sounds like a gamble," you say, "I have a better idea." Jim frowned. "What do you mean?" "I'll go to Strickler myself," you said. They all stared at you. "You shouldn't go alone," Jim shook his head. "I wont be," you said, glancing at him. "You'll come with me and we'll corner him." He blinked, "You're serious." "As stone," you said, "If he won't give it up willingly, I'll make sure he doesn't have the chance to resist." We can't hurt him though, he has a spell that connects his life to my mother's," he said. "Very well."
The suburbs were quiet and unsuspecting. You crouched low behind a dense hedgerow across the street from Strickler's two-story home, its porch light casting a pale glow on the walkway. Jim knelt beside you in full armor. “That’s the place,” Jim said under his breath, gesturing to the modest two-story home. "You ready?" You didn't look at him. Your eyes stayed fixed on the house. Toby's voice came through a walkie-talkie Jim was holding, "We've got eyes from the back, Aaarrrgghh, and I are covering the escape route." "Copy that," Jim said quietly.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” You gave him a firm look. “No. Wait outside. If things go wrong, I’ll signal.” He nodded hesitantly, stepping back into the shadows. You crossed the lawn silently, every step measured. You didn’t need to force the door, just a light press on the lock, a trace of your magic—and it clicked open. You slipped inside. The air smelled like old wood, tea, and ink. No lights. Just the faint tick of a grandfather clock in the hallway. You shut the door behind you and listened. Silence. You headed toward the hallway, passing closed doors. The quiet creak of floorboards underfoot was the only sound. You pushed open a door to find a study, bookshelves lined with textbooks, some about history, others on biology. A neat desk held a laptop, its screen dark. Empty. You moved back toward the living room when the floorboards above creaked. Footsteps
You ascended the stairs, careful to avoid the loose boards. The second floor was still, lit faintly by the soft blue wash of moonlight through a tall window. Three doors.One slightly ajar bathroom. Empty. The second, a guest room. Neatly made. Unused. The third was closed, but a warm sliver of light spilled beneath it. You stepped closer, your breath quiet, each movement calculated. You leaned in, listening. A page turned. You heard the soft scratch of a pen, the creak of an old chair. He was in there. Alone. Unaware. You gripped the handle. Slowly, silently, you pushed the door open. The room inside was lined with bookshelves and decorated like a professor’s study—dark wood, red rug, lamp lit low. At the desk, a man sat hunched over papers, adjusting his reading glasses, muttering softly to himself. You stepped inside and closed the door behind you with a click. Strickler froze.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said at last, voice cool but uncertain. “And I make it a point to know every threat that walks into my home.” Im here for the ring," you said. His brow twitched, and for a heartbeat, genuine surprise flashed across his face. “You know about the ring.” “I know more than you think.” His expression shifted, wary now. “And who sent you?” You took a step forward. “Angor Rot. Strickler’s eyes narrowed. “Curious. He never mentioned anyone like you. You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. You could see it in his eyes; he was trying to piece it together, deciding whether to stall or strike.
Then suddenly, without warning, Strickler lunged—not toward you, but past you. He shoved you hard in the shoulder, catching you off guard for a moment, and sprinted out the door into the hallway.You recovered fast, chasing after him, feet pounding against the floorboards. But he didn’t get far. The front door burst open; Jim, sword drawn, blocked the exit just as Strickler skidded into view. The changeling barely had time to react before he barreled straight into Jim’s chest. Jim grunted, grabbing Strickler’s sweater to hold him in place. Before Strickler could twist free, you crashed into him from behind, tackling him to the ground. The three of you hit the floor hard, but you kept your weight on him, pinning his arms. “Get the ring!” you barked to Jim. Strickler thrashed beneath you, his eyes glowing faintly as he began to shift, but Jim was already on it. He grabbed Strickler’s hand and yanked the Inferna Copula off his finger in one swift motion. Jim handed the ring over to you without hesitation. You took it, the Inferna Copula resting cold and heavy in your palm. Its dark metal shimmered faintly even in the low light, ancient magic pulsing from within. Strickler, still pinned beneath your knee, coughed and glared up at you. “You’re making a mistake. Angor Rot can’t be trusted.” You didn’t look away from the ring as you spoke. “That’s not your concern anymore.” Jim watched silently, jaw tight, eyes flickering between you and Strickler. You turned to him, your voice quieter. “Let’s go.” Jim nodded. As you stepped into the hallway, you heard Strickler mutter, “You’ll regret this.”
Outside, the night air was cooler now, tinged with distant city sounds. You held the Inferna Copula tightly, feeling the thrum of its bond. You weren’t sure what you’d find when you used it. Not really. But you would find him. Then, without hesitation, you slipped the ring onto your finger. The effect was immediate. A jolt ran through your hand, up your arm, and into your mind. Your breath caught as the world around you seemed to fall away. A sharp pulse raced through your body. Your vision blurred and then snapped into focus.
You saw damp stone, dim light. Narrow tunnels, water trickling over cracked concrete. The scent of mold and rust clung to the air. In a dry alcove beneath the sewer arches, Angor Rot sat with his back against the wall. A fragment of bone rested in his clawed hands, and he was carving it with a small, curved blade. Each motion was deliberate, careful. Not a weapon. Not a totem. Just something to keep his hands busy. His expression was unreadable, caught somewhere between focus and fatigue. The vision snapped away, leaving you back in the suburban quiet with your breath caught in your throat. You exhaled and turned to Jim, “He's in the sewers." Jim reached for his phone "I'll call the others-" "No," you looked up sharply, "I need to talk to him alone." Jim hesitated, "Are you sure?" "I have the ring; he can't hurt me."
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The other parts of this story are on my masterlist!
