The Forsaken Hero

The Dusk Chambers, or hall of the inquisitors was a place many entered, but few left. The moment we passed through the iron-bound door guarding the entrance, I froze, over come by an intangible wave of sheer hostility. Blinding light crystals lined the walls, flooding the rooms and hallways until no shadows remained. The harsh radiance was no ordinary light, either, but woven of pure Sun Magic itself, openly rejecting every fiber of my being. The stone walls were bleached white and covered in magic runes and enchantments, applying tremendous pressure to any of the infernal bloodline.

”You seem unwell,” Terran taunted, guiding me forward with a forceful hand on my back. ”Your hesitance testifies of your guilt. Only those allied with the demons need fear the Sun God’s touch.”

His reasoning was unnervingly close to what the novice priests had used to justify their actions when they assaulted me in the upper halls of the Divine Throne. I felt like protesting, explaining that Sun Magic simply attacks infernal blood, but knew it would only be giving the inquisitor what he wanted. Instead, I meekly bowed my head and raised my adaptive resistance as much as possible, hoping to block out as much of the influence as possible.

The Dusk Chambers were just as much a maze as the rest of the Divine Throne. Countless doors lined the tangled web of stairs and hallways, disorienting me almost immediately, and an occasional scream colored the air, sending shivers down my tail. After threading through turns and doorways, Terran dragged me to a stop without warning, halting our march before a door as inconspicuous as the hundreds we’d passed before.

One of the guards threw it open, revealing a small room with a low ceiling, lit with the same intensity as the rest of the facility. A magic circle stood on the ground against the center of the far wall, pulsing faintly with a familiar crimson light. My hand found its way to my chest, resting against the slave crest, which had begun emitting an identical light the moment I crossed the threshold. An instinctive fear and revulsion filled my chest, and I tried to back away from the circle, but Terran’s hand stopped me.

”Step inside, slave,” he said, his voice threatening.

Swallowing my revulsion, I walked into the magic circle. A chill traced over my skin as I stepped over the outer runes, as though I were passing through an invisible border.

”What are you going to-”

A piercing cold hand grasped my soul, squeezing tightly. Immediately, my mana fled, hiding far out of reach, and even my connection with my soul felt untouchable and distant. The constant pain continued as it always had, encircling me like a thorny vine, but the comforting warmth had vanished, evaporating like dew in the sun.

Bereft of my mana, I sagged, the exhaustion of the sleepless night finally catching up with me. No, it was more than that, a primal sense of weakness I hadn’t felt since the horrors of the dungeon beneath Western university.

Terran’s voice sycthed through my anguish, carrying the cold practicality of rehearsal in his words. ”You have burdened the Sun Hero for far too long, swaying him from the path of the divine. Now, at last, he will be free of your taint, and able to shine as the hero this world needs and deserves.”

A white-hot pain seared through the frigid grasp on my soul, emanating from my chest. Each individual rune of the slave crest burned, branding itself anew onto my flesh. It was excruciating, no less debilitating than when the bond was first created.

When it was over, I found myself kneeling int the circle slumped over against the wall. Tears trickled down my cheeks, and my tail twitched with the occasional aftershock of pain. Most disturbing, Soltair’s small presence, forever nestled in the back of my mind, was gone.

”W-what did you do?” I gasped, still struggling to catch my breath. ”Where is he?”

”Free,” Terran replied. ”He’s finally free of you. And now,” he said, gesturing grandly, ”You are ours.”

No sooner had he spoken than my slave crest flashed again. I braced myself, expecting another wave of pain, but instead, another presence appeared in my soul. It wasn’t so much an individual, but a collective well. Before I could get a grasp of the feeling, the presence wound around the connection with the Soul Binder, weaving together into a seamless whole.

Inquisitor Terran slumped against the wall, panting heavily. Even without the Eyes of Fate, it was apparent his eighth level soul was completely dry of mana. His closed fist opened, revealing the ring. When had Elek given that to him?

”Congratulations, filthblood,” he muttered, his eyes gradually regaining their focus. ”On surviving the experimental crest transfer and dual binding. The first, in fact, of over a hundred.”

”First?” I whispered.

”As you may have noticed,” he said, ignoring me, ”you’re no longer bound to the Sun Hero. Instead, you’re body and soul belong to this ring. Allow me to demonstrate.”

He tapped the small crystal set in the ring, and my soul constricted, squeezing until I cried out in pain. The threads binding the fragments tother drew so tight they seemed to tear right through the ethereal matter of my soul, leaving me in agony.

When the pain finally subsided, my soul was a bare scrap of what it once was, suppressed to the point casting even a first-circle spell felt impossible. My mana came in a scant trickle, hardly more than when I first discovered it in the cage.

”What have you done?” I gasped, fresh tears welling up in my eyes.

”Simply a restriction,” he replied. ”Surely you’re used to it by now. I simply took it a little more extreme. We can’t have you attempting any schemes before your trial, you know. Oh, and one more thing. Scream.”

His face contorted in a vicious smile as the slave crest ignited, sending waves of agony through me. It lasted for nearly a minute, tearing scream after scream from my mouth until my throat was sore and ragged. When at last the punishment relented, I collapsed to my hands and knees, coughing weakly. Blood trickled from the corner of my lips, speckling the bleached white stone beneath me.

”Very good. Now stand,” he ordered.

My body jerked to its feet, moving in instinctive fear of another punishment. ”P-please...” I gasped, sobbing.

”Silence. I have no desire to hear a demon’s driveling.”

My mouth snapped shut and I bowed my head obediently. His lips curled up in a smile and he straightened, having recovered enough strength to stand. He twisted the ring in his fingers, and I could feel my soul compressing, his grip tightening around me.

”Now then, we must introduce you to the Grand Inquisitor,” Terran said, passing back through the door. ”Come.”

My feet moved on their own, stumbling after the white-robed man. My thoughts jumbled together, thrown into disarray by the agony of the last few minutes, but one thing was certain. The freedom I enjoyed over the past few months, as limited as it was, was gone.

I scarcely recalled anything of the walk through the halls, but my mind snapped back to the present the moment I stood before the Grand Inquisitor. Korvin sat at a desk in the inner most room of the Dusk Chambers, setting down his pen the moment we entered.

”Ah, welcome Slave Hero,” he said, smiling gently. His unrestrained, predatory aura scoured through me, forcing my legs to give out. I collapsed onto my hands and knees, struggling to breath in the immense pressure the ninth-level inquisitor emitted.

”I see you’ve survived the transfer. Quite impressive, really, but after tomorrow, I’m sure you’ll wish you hadn’t. Give her a room in the Slave Quarters, Terran, and ensure she’s prepared for the Trial tomorrow. We’ll finally be able to put to rest one of the most dastardly plots of the demons have raised against us, and give Enusia a great triumph to off-set the disaster of the twin gates.”

”As you command,” Terran said, bowing low.

By the time we returned to the Slave Quarters, the monring had truly begun. Slaves filled the hallways, scattering before our escort like fall leaves in a stiff breeze. But their eyes never left my beaten and bloody form, and their lips failed to cease crafting gossip. I hadn’t had a chance to change since closing the Ice Gate, and knew I looked like hell itself, but I coudn’t bring myself to care. Instead, I shuffled along, staring forward duly, unable to scrape up the least bit of defiance. Every time Terran rolled the ring in his hand, my soul tightened, an ever present threat looming over me.

I flinched as Terran threw the door to an empty room open, banging it sharply against the outside wall. Before he gave the command, I stumbled through, collapsing onto the low straw bed within.

”Good,” he muttered. ”Stay there until an inquisitor retrieves you. Oh, and I suppose I should give you some baseline rules. You are not allowed to escape, harm another, or attempt to cover up your sins. You shall not lie or protest, nor shall you disobey an order from a priest ranked Father or higher. Understood?”

I nodded, dully staring at his feet. He frowned, muttering something under his breath that sounded like, ”At least make breaking you fun,” and then left.

The hard snap of the door left me in blissful solitude. I lay on the bed, closed my eyes, and sobbed. Why were they doing all this? For what reason would they need to humiliate me so badly? Why couldn’t they just kill me and be done with it?

Unable to find answers on my own, I turned to prayer, begging Fate for answers. But she remained silent, leaving me alone. At least, until I finally slipped into unconsciousness.