The Forsaken Hero

The street was silent, save for the gentle whistle of the early morning breeze. Helron stood across from us, hands folded loosely behind his back. His group hung back on his orders, though they remained coiled tightly like springs, ready to leap into action at the simplest provocation.

A glimmer of light caught my eye, and I glanced up, finding Rasce’s familiar, cloaked form hovering on the edge of a nearby rooftop. On the other side of the street, I could make out Dyson’s soul glittering in the alley shadows. His silhouette wavered unsteadily, blurred by some magical technique, invisible even to my demonkin eyes

”Start talking,” Sorrin growled, ears twitching in agitation.

Helron spread his arms, exposing himself. ”One on the roof and another in the shadows, along with whatever’s left of the Dawn Blades inside. Had we come to fight, I’m not even sure I’d make it out unscathed. Especially with whatever tricks this one’s got up her sleeve,” he said, giving me a wink.

”I’m not surprised you noticed them,” Sorrin said, ”but that hardly counts as an explanation.”

”I’ve brought the guild’s management and upper echelon with me. While I believe we are free of whatever vile curse this damned Circle inflicted upon us, I thought it in our best interest to have some guarantees. I believe the girl can put our fears to rest?”

Sorrin glanced at me and Tana. At Tana’s encouraging smile, I stepped forward, Fable at my side. Helron’s eyes fell on the wolf, glistening with curiosity, but they quickly flicked to my face as I took a short breath.

”You’re free. I can see lingering remnants of the curse on you, as well as them, and the one in the back,” I said softly, gesturing to several of the guild members behind the guild leader.

”Marvelous,” he murmured to himself. Then, raising his voice, said, ”In that case, how about we take this inside? It seems we have much to discuss.”

As the man strode forward, Sorrin reluctantly turned the side, falling in behind him. Rasce and Dyson vanished from their hiding places, and although I hadn’t seen where they’d gone, I was almost certain they’d be inside the inn before long.

By the time we reentered the common room of the Glossy Swallow, the massive, boarkin innkeeper had returned, standing behind the counter with his arms crossed, a surly expression across his face.

Helron slid into a seat on a table in the corner, flicking a gold coin toward the innkeeper. The man caught it with practiced ease and, in a glint of gold, sent the coin disappearing down his sleeve.

The Dawnblades peeped out of the private room, gazing warily at the guild leader, but Sorrin waved them down, saying, ”It’s alright. Just stay inside and watch the others.”

Benri nodded, and the door shut with a sharp click. The other guild members who had come with Helron filed into the inn after us, taking seats at various tables, keeping a sharp watch out the windows. Rasce and Dyson snuck in through the back door, joining me at a table adjacent the others.

Sorrin and Tana sat at the guild leader’s table, looking more than a little on edge. I wasn’t exactly certain why they were so suspicious of him, not when it was clear he was acting of his own free will.

”A few hours ago, I found myself with the most dreadful headache,” Helron said, leaning back in his chair. ”As well as a few unpleasant memories. One of which was planning an ambush to kill your party.”

The temperature in the room dropped, and I looked around, my tail twitching nervously. He certainly wasn’t sugarcoating it.

”You were cursed,” Sorrin replied flatly. ”From what we’ve learned, it’s a new type of control, that warps your desires to be in line with the casters. Do you have any idea who might have done it?”

”A curse, is it? I figured as much, though my memories of the time are rather blurry. I found a suspicious individual sneaking around my office though, and dragged some answers out of him before he committed suicide. As you suspect, the culprits are this Circle of Chains, though what their goals are remain unclear.”

”You let him die?” Sorrin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Helron shrugged. He glanced up with a grateful nod to the innkeeper, who dropped off a round of drinks. ”There must have been some sort of curse on him as well, because he started screaming the moment I convinced him to talk. A few seconds later he was dead.”

”Ruthless,” Rasce muttered, ”But effective. What did you manage to figure out?”

”They didn’t seem any different than normal slavers, save their new magic and powerful connections. Before I was cursed, I was called into a meeting with the City Lord. He’s an old friend, and I responded with haste, forgetting the situation and arriving without proper caution. A servant took me to a side reception room, which I now find odd, because I’ve only ever met him in his private study. There was a group of inquisitors waiting for me, and several cloaked figures. The next few hours were hazy, but I somehow ended up back at the Guild House. From then on, I felt extremely normal. Too normal, in fact. It wasn’t even strange that I orchestrated an elaborate ambush, or collaborated with strange, unknown figures in robes. I wanted what they wanted, no matter what I had to sacrifice to get it.”

As he talked, I peered at him closely, studying his soul. Through the Eyes of Fate, I could make out the faint, shadowy remnants of the curse. Adaptive Resistance effectively erased it on the Dawn Blades, but because it simply expired on Helon, it gave me a chance to study it. The runes, circles, and even the distribution of mana were clear to my eyes, but the more I studied, the colder my heart grew.

”Starlight, are you alright?” Dyson asked, peering at me with concern, ”You’re shaking.”

I jerked at his words, gasping for breath, my chest tight with fear as the sinister intent of the curse became apparent. ”A slave crest!”

Helron paused mid-sentence, and everyone turned to me, but I didn’t care. I raised a trembling finger, pointing at his soul. The guild leader glanced down at his chest, then up at me, knitting his brow together in confusion.

”I’m sorry?” he asked.

I summoned my staff and rested a hand on Fable’s head, requesting his mana. As his power flowed through me, I quickly wove a dark, tangled net of runes identical to the shadows clinging to Helron’s soul. As it drew to completion, I paused the spell, allowing it to hang in the air, visible to the entire room.

”T-they’re experimenting on Slave Crests,” I said, my voice no louder than a whisper. ”But there’s no ring or amulet, so it’s only temporary. But they must be looking for a way to make it permanent. If they were to invert this circle here, and change these runes there...”

My eyes glazed over, the rest of the room fading away. Carefully, delicately, I worked the magic, altering and modifying the flawed curse. It felt slow to me, but to the others, the magic circles must have blurred incomprehensibly fast, runes blinking in and out, growing, shrinking, or transforming altogether.

The adjustments became smaller and smaller, until, with a sharp breath, I froze. The curse was on the edge of perfection, the path clear in my mind. With a single thought, I could complete this perfected version of the slave crest, but something held me back. The mana cycle of my soul slithered anxiously, filling me with an irrational sense of dread and trepidation. For the briefest moment, I became aware of an unseen gaze, watching me with glee and anticipation.

With a sharp gasp, I severed the threads of mana and collapsed into my seat, watching in relief as the curse dissipated into the air. My lungs fought for air and my heart seemed about to pound out of my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes, obscuring the shocked looks of my companions.

”You can use curse magic?” Tana asked slowly.

Helron leaned forward, scrutinizing me with great interest. ”Simply marvelous. knew it was the right thing to take you in. Judging by the light show and your reaction, I take it you managed to replicate the curse?”

Panic clawed up my chest, but I fought it off, managing a slight nod. ”It’s...terrible. They’re trying to make that curse into a new type of Slave Crest!”

”Ah, I’ve heard whispers of a new type of crest,” Helron said knowingly, ”they say it binds the soul itself and is capable of restricting the level of the slave. I believe the name for it is ”Soul Crest,” because it’s bound to the soul, not the flesh.”

I shook my head emphatically, glaring at them all. ”No, that’s not it at all! The Soul Crest ravaged my body and soul, but even that seems docile compared to what they’re trying to do. Instead of just binding the soul, they intend to bind the heart and spirit itself. Can you imagine what would happen if they could control slaves’ desires just like they did yours? They wouldn’t even be able to comprehend freedom, or the horrors their masters inflict on them. They’d be forced to love it, to embrace every second of malicious torture and abuse!”

I was panting by the end of it, my chest heaving, tears streaking down my cheeks. Vaguely, I was aware of the agitated swish of my tail, but I ignored it, turning away and sniffling. The room was eerily quiet. Everyone’s eyes were on me, their mouths parted in surprise at my uncharacteristic outburst.

The prolonged silence ate at me, and I gripped my skirt tightly, my knuckles turning white. ”Sorry,” I muttered, looking away.

”Starlight....” Tana whispered after a long while. ”You had a Soul Crest?”