The Forsaken Hero

Fate was gone. She was a goddess, powerful enough to create worlds, yet I knew in my heart it was true. Her death shattered me, sending shockwaves through my soul. A crippling sense of loneliness hollow me out, like someone had torn away the bits that made me who I was and gave me purpose.

The church had stripped my title and status, but they were helpless against my Divine Calling. Heroes had intrinsic resistance and talents, a sort of confidence and charisma that inspired others to follow. And now that special divine blessing, an essential element of inner strength that sustained me through the darkness, was gone.

Aurle was dead, too, the most recent of those hurt because they chose to stand by my side: murdered by the monster standing before me, his arms crossed, glaring holes through me.

”Answer me,” he growled. ”Where did you get that staff?”

I stared listlessly at the face of my friend, at the bloody hole where he had ripped her ear off. She’d been so kind, and sweet, and forgiving. I yearned to feel her hand on my shoulder, reassuring me as she had countless times during the long nights, when my tears wouldn’t stop flowing. But now, because of me, she’d never smile again.

”No,” I could imagine her voice saying, ”Not because of you. Because of him.”

Drawing strength from her memory, I raised my head and looked Byron in the eyes for the first time. His gaze was frigid, sending a thrill of fear down my tail, but I refused to waver.

”I’m beginning to grow impatient,” he said, trying to regain his poise. ”The time for gentility has passed. You are my slave, and I will break you.”

He raised the ring, and a deep buzz started deep in the depths of my soul, reverberating outward and lighting the slave crest on fire. Every thread piercing my soul constricted. Sparks danced out of the crest, filling my veins with lava and charring my skin.

Everything went white with pain. The sting of the whip was nothing compared to the excruciating agony of the punishment. The other slaves huddled back against the wall, not daring to look, as my screams echoed through the chamber.

”Beautiful,” Byron murmured, eyes half-closed in pleasure as though he were listening to a master bard’s instrument. ”Simply sublime. Perhaps I should pursue mastering the slave crest after all.”

He stopped after a minute and allowed me to catch my breath before tormenting me again. After the third cycle, I collapsed to the ground, too weak to even writhe as the crest sent another wave of punishment through me.

My breath vanished as Byron grabbed my horn, hoisting me into the air. Black dots spun across my vision as he choked the life out of me, restricting my air and blood flow.

”I think I’ll take you here and now. You won’t mind a little audience, will you?”

Only half aware of his words, I vaguely shook my head, desperate for anything to stop the pain. Nothing else mattered except escaping the agony, even if that mercy came through death. All thoughts of Fate had fled my mind, the staff forgotten where it had slipped from my fingers.

He grinned and dropped me to the ground, hand falling to tug at his belt. I lay motionless on the ground, limbs splayed out. My head canted to the side, cheek against cold stone, staring at Aurle’s limp body just a handbreadth away. She stared back at me, her eyes cold and dead. Condemning me.

”It won’t hurt...much.” Byron knelt before me, hands roughly exploring my body. He grabbed the hem of my dress and tore it up, exposing my flesh to his lustful eyes. I squirmed in his grip, but he held me firm, grinning maniacally.

After everything I fought for and suffered through, it was going to end like this? Had it all been in vain? Was Aurle’s death in vain? As Byron’s hands pushed my thighs apart, preparing to take the only thing I had left, something within me broke.

”Free,” I sobbed, too softly for even Byron to hear. ”I just want to be free.”

The world shuddered, responding to my plea. Byron paused and looked up, blinking as another tremor tore through the basement. Dust rained from the ceiling and the chains rattled. A second later, another pulse erupted outward, warping reality itself. Black tears opened up in the air, as deep and endless as the night sky. It was like they were pulling back the curtains, revealing a scene as deep and endless as the night sky itself. Fate glistened within the darkness, represented by a fathomless number of stars connected by glistening golden threads.

Lord Byron glanced down at me, eyes fixating on mine. I could see my face reflected in his pupils. My eyes blazed with light, the stars a thousand times more dense than before.

”What the hell?” he cried, staring at me, ”but your soul is shielded! You can’t--”

His voice cut off as he looked to the side and gasped. My staff shuddered and then rose into the air, born on a cloud of stars. It settled in my grip, the star atop the haft glistening with light.

The moment the staff fell into my fingers, the presence within fully awakened. An unimaginably powerful aura seized the room, freezing the lord and his slaves mid-breath. Finally freed of the Slave Lord’s clutches, I scrambled away and clutched the staff tightly to my chest, weeping softly. The crystalline haft was warm and familiar, reminding me of Fate. It carried the warmth of her smile and the glistening sorrow of her tears, and the comfort of her arms around me. My mind was muddled with fatigue and pain, but I knew with absolute clarity that this was all that remained of her, the last remnants of her divinity. The final star.

Byron struggled to recover under the suppressive aura and finally succeeded in activating the ring, attempting to cripple me with the slave crest’s punishment. Unfortunately for him, the presence within the staff was quicker. Even as sparks crawled out of the crest, a glorious mist of stars rose about me. I swooned, groaning in pain, as the two powers battled for dominance, caught between bitter punishment and the sweet love of Fate’s embrace.

The pressure continued to build, reaching a climax within seconds. Byron’s face morphed into a mask of horror as the crystal on the ring cracked, and then shattered, filling the air with the sound of broken glass. Instantly, the bond went dark, the slave crest losing its luster. Stars streamed toward my soul, attacking the very roots of Slave Curse. Slowly, the scarlet runes and circles began to break into fragments, evaporating from my skin like the morning dew.

”Impossible!” gasped a horrified Byron.

With each trembling heartbeat, my soul felt lighter. The stars invaded every fiber of the curse, tearing it apart and freeing my soul from within. The threads of the Soul Binder had bound my soul for months, preventing it from healing and restricting my mana. As they broke, my soul exploded with long-suppressed power, expanding quicker than my damaged and scarred soul could handle. I screamed as pain as keen as any punishment wracked my body, thrashing on the ground, barely managing to keep hold of the staff.

The divinity took notice, and stars encircled my soul, wrapping it up tightly like bandages, replacing the vile threads of the curse. The pain abated, and I struggled to my knees, clutching the staff tightly. It hummed uncertainly as tears filled my eyes, but they weren’t of pain, but of relief.

I gasped as a consuming heat flooded my body. It mingled with Fate’s divinity, rising to a crescendo in my soul. As it peaked, my eyes flashed gold, and the entire world changed. The black tears in space opened up until stars glittered in every corner of reality. Miniscule streams of mana, so fine they were practically invisible, wove them together, creating the very fabric of existence.

It was glorious and beautiful, yet overwhelming. The sheer volume of insight and information into the true nature of Fate and magic exhausted whatever strength I had left, draining my mind and concentration. Distracted by it all, I failed to notice as Lord Byron and the remaining slaves fled the room, leaving me alone in the dark.

Feeling more than a little reluctant, I forced the Eyes of Fate away. In its place, a new, familiar power bloomed, radiating comfort and warmth through every fiber of my being. The remaining strands of curse magic wilted before the might of an unrestrained Adaptive Resistance, tearing like spider silk before a dragon’s claw.

Within seconds, the final stains of sticky curses burned away, leaving my soul and body clean. Tears streamed unchecked down my cheeks, and my shoulders shook with sobs. A heavy burden I had carried for what felt like my entire life was absent, leaving me feeling light.

It was gone. The slave crest was gone. I was finally free.