The Forsaken Hero

As the duel came to an end, scattered applause broke out in the audience, accompanied by cheers of appreciation. I looked around, uncertainty coursing through me at the unfamiliar display of support. Selena approached, smiling broadly as she laid a hand on my shoulder.

”Thanks for humoring my selfish request,” she said words tinged with amusement.

I couldn’t contain my curiosity any longer. ”Why?” I blurted out, ”Why did you need to spar?”

She turned, giving me a playful wink, but the soberness of her tone gave me pause. ”Not me. You.”

Those two simple words left me reeling, but I scarcely had time to process her words before the elf disappeared amongst the collapsing crowd. I felt a sudden rush of unease, afraid of being alone in such a crowd, and hastily chased after her. My steps faltered as she disappeared, lost in the mass of mages. At first, I assumed they were moving in to claim a space to practice, but they closed around me, hedging me in with a circle of unfamiliar smiles.

I backed aware nervously, eyes darting around for any sign of Selena, I was alone. My soul was at its limit, and I doubted whether I could even muster an Aegis spell, should the need arise. What did all these people want?

”Excuse me,” a young man said, pushing his way to the front. I didn’t recognize him and felt taken aback by the excitement in his eyes. ”Are you perhaps a hero?”

I stared blankly at him for some time, unable to process his question. ”A hero?”

”Yeah, there can’t be another explanation!” An equally enthusiastic woman said, flicking a thick black braid over her shoulder. ”You’re pretty powerful, right?”

”I-I guess.” I stumbled over my words as the slave crest trembled, and my mind raced to find what I did wrong. Did I hurt someone in the church? Did someone ask me to do something?

I looked around, eyes flickering desperately as questions flooded in. Many of the mages were simply well-wishers, expressing gratitude for being allowed to witness something of our spar, but more than a handful wanted to know details about who I was. Was standing up to an instructor really that impressive?

”Why do you have a slave crest?”

”Where did you learn to cast Dispel Magic like that?”

”Are all of your spell chantless?”

”Does your power come from the demons?”

I backed away, stumbling slightly at the barrage of questions. Whenever I tried to answer one, two more took their place, and the pressure of the slave crest added an additional layer of stress. It hovered like a monsoon moments away from releasing its rain, yet never quite breaking.

I laid a hand on my chest, hoping to slow my rapidly beating heart, and looked up at the sun. What would Soltair do? Thinking of his face brought a small degree of comfort, and I took a deep breath, turning to face the curious mages again. My tail still waved nervously behind me, but I managed to keep my composure and talk my way through.

After several minutes, I looked up as the crowd split, my face brightening with hope. Had the gods finally decided I had enough? The naive thought was crushed by fear as a man walked through, drawing respect and subservience from all who noticed him. The crowd fell quiet as he raised his hand, backing away respectfully.

”I’m curious, too,” the second prince, Corinth, said, lips curling into a patronizing smile. ”How did you manage to cast all those spells, Slave Hero? To overwhelm a higher circle spell, cast by one of our very own instructors on top of it, is no small feat.”

”Slave hero?”

”How’s that possible?”

”Is it because she’s a demonkin?”

I bit my lip, holding back the tears that threatened my eyes as a mess of words and gossip spread from the gathered mages. Why would he appear now? I almost refused to answer, as he probably meant to trap me in my words somehow, but something in his eye told me he was waiting for that. But how was I supposed to respond?

”They are my own,” I said slowly, trying to choose my words carefully. ”I studied and learned this magic to fight against the demon invasion.”

I looked up triumphantly, certain my response was above reproach. His smile widened further, and he raised an eyebrow expectantly. I blinked, uncertain what for, before a fiery pain erupted in my chest as the slave crest activated. Too late did I remember the Pope’s command, which I had carefully stepped around with Selena, to take no credit for myself.

Startled gasps filled the air as a crimson light shone from my slave crest. My fingers clutched at the folds of my dress as the pain drove me to my knees, compounding and increasing with the unhealed damage to my soul. I dimly noticed Vorinth standing above me, saying something to the crowd, but his words were muddled in my ears and mind. Whatever lies or slander he was spreading was beyond me, and I only cared about surviving until the punishment faded. Tears trickled down my cheeks, escaping my tightly shut eyes, and my tail thrashed around behind me. My mind flashed to Selena, leaving me alone, but she couldn’t have known about this command. I refused to believe she’d set me up. Was it all really just bad luck?

After several minutes, the crimson light disappeared and the convulsions left my body. I collapsed powerlessly to the ground, panting heavily and wiping away the last of my tears. My hair fell before my face, but I couldn’t bring myself to brush it away. I didn’t want to see what was going on outside, the low rumble of conversation around was too much as is.

”Xiviyah!” I flinched as Selena’s voice cut through the noise moments before her arms wrapped around me. ”I’m so sorry,” she whispered into my ear. I had no idea.”

Her words felt empty, but her sincerity was beyond doubt, and I breathed an unconscious sigh of relief. Vorinth was an enemy. He was supposed to do bad things. I could handle that. But Selena... a small sob escaped my lips. She held me for a moment, before turning her head to look up, out of my sight.

I shivered at the venom in her voice, grateful it wasn’t directed at me. ”And what are you doing here?”

Vorinth’s chuckle made my skin crawl, and I could vividly picture his degrading smile. ”Whatever could you be talking about? I was simply passing through and saw these people inspired by a spar. Naturally, I was curious and sought to learn something of it, but somehow things ended up like this.”

”Is that so.” Selena’s grip tightened around my shoulders, pressing my head into her chest. I closed my eyes, taking comfort in her warmth and steady heartbeat. ”In that case, you may leave. All of you may leave. You’ve done enough here.”

”I was heading out already,” Vorinth said, not sounding the least bit concerned. ”Good luck in the tourney, Slave hero.”

Silence found us, with any passing pilgrims or priests giving us a wide berth. Selena’s glare was nothing to be trifled with, a solid ally to hide behind. But, all too soon, Selena rose, pulling me up with her.

”Come. it’s not sightly for a hero to maintain this appearance.”

”I’m sorry,” I whispered. With that one sentence, her plan was made clear to me. ”I’m sorry for messing it all up.”

”Nonsense. You still got your name out there, and I hope you trust in your spells a little more. It was my fault for being ignorant of the commands given through the slave crest. I set you up for failure.”

My voice broke as I nodded, saturated with sincerity. ”Thank you.” I was used to disgrace and shame. Those were handed to me at every turn. To me, the elf’s kindness had a greater impact than everything else that had happened, including the punishment of the slave crest.