The Forsaken Hero

I paused a single flight from the top, sensing two third-level guards waiting in a small room above. From Jessia’s report, this was one of the many secret entrances to the catacombs scattered across the city, where the Circle did their work, so it was well-guarded. The third level was, unfortunately, too powerful for me to suffocate silently with my aura. Which was fine, because I was itching to feel Circle flesh twitching in my hands again.

My sword left its sheath with a soft rasp. The blade glittered in the flickering crystal lights, writhing with my mana. It was only a fourth-level sword, yet beggars couldn’t be choosers. It would serve until I found one more appropriate for my strength. Something that would let me kill High Inquisitors and the Arbiters the Curse Emperor had promised me were coming.

Guided by my curses, I stalked up the remaining stairs, looking up at the backs of the two guards. They leaned absent-mindedly against the banisters, chatting about the hero. My gut clenched at the thought. What did these two bastards know of heroes? Why would they take pride in one visiting their wretched city? A true hero would burn it for its sins the instant they laid eyes on it. If they didn’t, one day, I would return to do it for them.

I must have made a noise, because one of the guards began to turn. I lunged forward, clearing the last five stairs in the blink of an eye. My sword plunged into his back, tearing through his body and armor, and emerging just beneath the decorative rune carved in his breastplate. His scream ended in a wet gurgle, blood dribbling between his lips.

The other guard stared in horror as I let my momentum carry me on top of my prey. I kicked the dying man to the ground and wrenched my sword out in one smooth movement. The other fumbled for his spear, but I swung casually, lopping the head off the shaft. He started to scream, so I let my aura escape for an instant. His chest seized, his face whitening, as the pressure of a seventh-level soul descended upon him. It gave me just enough time to ram my sword through his throat. He died as silently as the other.

I let his body fall limp, dragging off my sword with a filthy squelch. Blood ran down my blade, so I grabbed the first’s cape and wiped it clean before returning it to its sheath.

The staircase had taken me to the back of a small shop, with no windows. There were two doors, one in front of the stairs, the other behind me. That one led to the shop itself, so I stole out the other, finding myself in a thin alley. The handle was locked from this side. Good. Their bodies wouldn’t be found for a while.

I pulled a yellow cloak from my spatial ring and threw it around my shoulders, drawing the cowl over my horns. It wasn’t cold enough to justify it, and I hated the color, but Jessia had promised it would draw the least suspicion. I doubted that, but if all she wanted in return for her help were watching me squirm, I would pay that price.

The streets were packed. Brithlite, home of the Circle. A blight that had to be removed from the face of Enusia.

News that the Hero was visiting the city was all over the place, with commoners and priests alike milling about. There were too many to avoid all contact with, so I focused on keeping my aura firmly hidden. My hands balled into fists at my side as I moved through the crowds, hearing nothing but the excited chatter about the glorious Hero and the grace of the gods. They were cheering for the ones who had tortured, raped, and murdered my sister.

Don’t lash out. Don’t kill them. Not yet. By the emperors, restraining myself was hard, especially because slaughtering everyone would have been so easy. There were barely any seventh-levels in the city, and I had a feeling I could take them if I killed enough of the rabble before they mobilized. Very few were prepared for the curses I had at my disposal.

The cathedral loomed above the rest of the city, built in similitude of the Divine Throne. It made me sick just looking at it. Light by gaudy gold lights, colored with ugly stained glass windows, and seething with corruption.

Suddenly, a radiant light descended from the heavens and settled on the upper spires. It soaked down like cascading water, vanishing into the central chambers, where the Shard must have been. I could feel its power, thick and compelling. I licked my lips, my tail flicking beneath my robe. I’d only managed to absorb one until now, but the memory of that sweet rush and power was addictive.

Cheers went up through the city, echoing against the stone and into my ears, twenty thousand voices lifted in joy and worship. I hurried my step, pushing through the throngs until I found an alleyway flush against the cathedral courtyard walls. I ducked inside, and when I was certain no one was looking, leaped the thirty-foot walls. I half-expected to pass a guard as I crested the top, but it was empty. Fools. Probably gathered to see the heroes. Then again, didn’t that make me a fool, too?

The cathedral had any number of windows. I circled the courtyard until I found one that gave a view of the central chamber. Divine Mana leaked from it like a miasma, but I suppressed my shivers and peered inside. The Shard glowed with a diminishing brilliance, winding down after performing the teleportation.

The Sun Hero stood out like a sore thumb. Tall, broad-shouldered, with golden eyes and a countenance like the breaking dawn. Light streamed off him, bathing the priests and paladins surrounding him. He clasped wrists and laughed, warm and yet somehow untouchable.

His companion was a girl with long, blonde hair and piercing eyes. She wore tight leather armor that exposed her cleavage and midriff. What kind of enemies did they normally encounter that justified such clothing? Even if her wards generated protective force regardless of where her armor covered, it was terribly impractical. Then again, given how close she stuck to the Sun Hero, perhaps she had other motives.

But she couldn’t be the Fate Hero. The two curved short swords hanging on her hips guaranteed that. The Hero was cursed and couldn’t wield weapons. Which also ruled out the other hero, the Fire Hero, standing nearby. He had an insufferable look to him, and was far too handsy with the enslaved beastkin at his side.

So where was she? I scanned the rest of the room, but there was no one else with any presence. I focused on the Sun Hero again, swallowing my distaste of his soul, and detected a faint signature of curse mana. I followed it across the room, and there, standing in the shadow of the Shard, was a child. She wore a plain red dress tied with a black sash, and had shoulder-length red hair. It was off-shoulder, like some noble ladies, but she didn’t have the curves to fill it. The sleeves sagged low on her thin arms, the neckline exposing an ugly crimson slave crest instead of any cleavage.

That was when I realized she wasn’t a child. Young, sure, and certainly petite, but she was only a few years younger than me. Fourteen, fifteen? It surprised me that someone so small and frail might be considered an adult.

But she was a demonkin, with red horns and a slender red tail that looked like it spent more time twitching than relaxed.

The girl shivered as if she could feel my stare, and turned. My heart fluttered as our eyes met. They were a startling gold, and filled with flecks of what I could only describe as starlight. The rest of the world slowly faded as I wandered through their depths. Beautiful, as deep and endless as the night sky.

The thought was strange. Beautiful? I hadn’t even known the word was in my vocabulary. And yet I knew she embodied it. She bore the weight of the world on her shoulders, and held herself with grace and poise. Her eyes, shimmering with tears that hadn’t dried in years, had strength in equal measure with pain and despair.

It was her. I knew that in my bones, before I even sensed the strange ripple that seemed to emanate from her soul. I stirred the air with a slight twinkle, unnoticeable to anyone who didn’t have mana-enhanced senses. She was only fourth level, maybe third, but...no, that wasn’t right, either. Curses bound her soul in heavy chains, cutting into her light like knives. Just what had they done to her?

Just like that, the unfamiliar feelings in my chest vanished, swallowed by anger and hate. This girl had been hurt by the church just as much as I had. Maybe more. That thought only made me want to burn this city down all the more, and kill the hero who held her heart in his fist.

Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. The Sun Hero approached her with a smile. As she turned to him, I ducked away and frowned, realizing I’d let my hood slip. I quickly adjusted it and slunk away, vanishing into the city. I would remain close over the next few days and search for an opportunity to speak with her. I had to, if only to ease the strange itch in my heart.