The Forsaken Hero

With the chaos of battle and the shouts of my friends echoing in my ears, I urged Fable forward toward the tower housing the Shard of Omniscience. It was more of a cathedral, really, with giant carved statues standing sentinel in shallow alcoves and stained glass windows that had turned black with the dust and ash from the Mana Storm’s fallout. The walls and gates had been built much sturdier than those of the city, relying on their sheer mass as much as magic for fortification, so they remained upright even without their protective wards.

But the gates were still barred shut from the inside, and though their enchantments had been stripped, they must have weighed several tons apiece—far beyond the strength of someone like me.

Fable, however, was a different story. He sprinted towards the tower, weaving between magical attacks and explosions. An inquisitor tried to intercept us, but Luxxa ensnared him with a tangle of summoned vines, stalling him just long enough for her to engage him in combat.

With a fierce howl, Fable charged headlong into the gate. At the last second, a surge of mana erupted in and around his horns, and he used them, perhaps for the first time, as a weapon.

I yelped, hunching low over his shoulders as we crashed through the doors like a living battering ram. The wood and steel, already weakened by my previous spell, shattered like porcelain, filling the air with a hail of splinters and metal shards. My wards protected me, but I instinctively shut my eyes, shielding them from the flying debris.

We emerged into the cathedral beyond. No sooner had we entered than a storm of magic—fire, ice, sunlight—descended upon us, blasting the ground around us in a hundred-foot radius. The walls shuddered as the spells slammed against them, and more dust and debris rained down from the ceiling. The stained glass windows shattered from the sheer force of the shockwaves, showering us with a cascade of colored glass.

I didn’t have a chance to see who had attacked us or how many were waiting, but it didn’t matter. None of the spells penetrated my adaptive resistance. Even a thick slab of stone, shaken loose from the ceiling, shattered harmlessly against my Blade Ward.

Several shocked gasps echoed through the chamber as we trotted out of the dissipating smoke, the ends of my hair untouched by the flames. The moment we were clear, I slipped off Fable’s back and grasped my mana before looking around at the surroundings.

The chamber was just as I remembered from my vision, but only now, in person, could I truly appreciate its grandeur. My initial impression was correct—it was indeed a cathedral of sorts, but its scale was unlike anything I’d seen outside of the Divine Throne or Brithlite’s capital city. Perhaps I should have expected it, considering how fanatically the architects of this kingdom mimicked the designs of the Divine Throne.

There were four levels, each a protruding platform encircling the towering Shard of Omniscience. They seemed small in comparison to the cathedral’s vastness, but the width of each platform was likely more than fifty feet, separated from the open air in the center by only a delicate railing. From our vantage point on the ground level, I couldn’t discern the purpose of those rooms except as elevated positions for an ambush.

Dozens of dark-robed figures lined the upper levels, their faces obscured by deep cowls. Thick streams of mana residue trailed from where Fable and I stood back to their hands and staffs, evidence that they’d been responsible for the recent magical barrage. Their souls were a mixture of fourth and fifth levels, nothing I hadn’t expected from my vision. A few carried bows and several others had naked swords leaned against the railing, in easy reach should we attempt to escape upwards.

”You’ve come at last. Just as promised,” a smooth, oily voice echoed through the chamber.

My tail stiffened as I whirled around, facing the speaker. It was another dark-robed figure, but this one had a thick silver chain embroidered on his chest, not his back like the others. His sword was sheathed, but his soul radiated an overwhelming might, easily in the middle stages of seventh-level.

I couldn’t see his eyes beneath the cowl, but my skin prickled under his gaze, and I instinctively shrank back against Fable, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. I hadn’t even known there was another seventh-level being in the circle aside from Alverin, much less that he’d be here, in this city away from the capital. Had he come to oversee the experiment? Why hadn’t he been there in my vision?

The man stood in front of the Shard of Omniscience, with two others aside him. They both held magic staffs with high-level enchantments, though their own souls were merely sixth. Behind them, attached to the shard, was the crystal device responsible for the Heart Crest cast on the city.

”As promised?” Scarcely had I whispered the words aloud than my soul tingled, and I shivered. This reaction only ever meant two things: either my life was in immediate danger, or someone was observing my soul. The Oracle of Eternity shielded me from the prying eyes of every form of scrying—everyone but one—the Eyes of Fate.

The man chuckled at my sharp intake of breath, but there was no warmth in his cold, cruel voice. ”Now then, slave, will you willingly embrace the Joys, or must I force you to submit?”

The word ”joys” sent a shiver down my spine. My tail lashed anxiously behind me, whipping audibly through the air, causing him to chuckle again. I bit my lip, steeling myself, and summoned my staff, pointing it at him with a trembling hand. ”I’m not a slave, not anymore. Surrender, and I’ll spare your lives.”

Even though they were Circle, I couldn’t bring myself to initiate this fight, not when one of them was at the seventh level. Never mind that Fable could probably kill him on his own; the destruction caused by their battle would be just as devastating as the one raging outside. Hadn’t enough innocent blood already been spilled?

”It seems you haven’t forgotten,” he sneered, ”though your disobedience is rather... disappointing. Perhaps some motivation is in order?”

I tensed as he raised his hand, and the two figures beside him moved. But instead of attacking, they opened their cloaks, revealing two small children who tumbled onto the floor. They were emaciated and frail, their bones visible through their skin, and small enough to have been completely hidden within the folds of their captors’ robes. One was a wolfkin boy, while the other appeared to be an elven girl. Neither could be older than ten.

”What are you doing?” I asked, gripping my staff tightly. ”I don’t want to–”

The slavers drew their swords and laid them at the children’s necks, drawing small beads of blood that trickled down their skin.

”So predictable,” the seventh-level man said, ”Having fate on your side is truly a marvel. Now!”

At his command, half of the robed figures above us suddenly began to chant. But their words weren’t those of a spell, but an... activation? Like for a magic item? Fable reacted instantly, leaping upwards with incredible force. He soared through the thirty feet or so to the second level, but before he reached it, the realization hit me like a lightning bolt.

”Fable, wait!” I cried out, but it was too late.

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The inquisitors, the ambush, even the children—it all made sense. Verity had seen this, just as I had, but she was watching now. And if she saw me here, standing in this precise location, then—

The chanting ceased abruptly, and a blinding flash of light erupted in a tight circle around me, perhaps ten feet across. Only now did I notice the intricate, carved magic circle etched into the stone floor. They hadn’t just prepared a trap in this cathedral; the cathedral was the trap!

Before I could even utter a simple spell, the magic circle flared with blinding intensity. Mana surged from the runes, collapsing inward on me like a tidal wave. This was... Mana Storm? My own mana?

”You gave us such a nice gift, it only seemed right to return it,” the man said with a triumphant cackle. ”Our magic is far beyond yours now. It was a simple matter to absorb your spell with the Shard. I’m sure it’s surprising to be on the receiving end of your own magic!”

The mana storm, amplified and concentrated by the Shard’s power, tore through my wards as if they were made of paper. It was a seventh-circle spell, far exceeding the strength Adaptive Resistance could handle, leaving me utterly defenseless. I screamed, dropping to my knees, my staff vanishing in a shower of starlight as the storm ravaged my soul, attacking my mana itself. It took every ounce of strength and control I possessed to remain conscious, to fight against its relentless assault. Tears streamed down my face as the sunpurge throbbed, and I nearly lost control entirely as a wave of agonizing fire coursed through my veins.

It was over in an instant, though it felt like an eternity. I’d survived, and most of my mana remained intact, but everything—all my spells—had been stripped away. Even my connection with Fable and Haven felt distant, suppressed by the chaotic currents of mana left in the mana storm’s wake. It would be minutes, if not hours, before it faded and anyone could cast a spell in this area again.

”You’re still conscious? Impressive,” the man’s voice dripped with cruel satisfaction. ”But how about this?”

He waved his hand again, and a wall of fire erupted around me, tracing another magic circle etched into the floor just outside the one that had focused the mana storm. I winced, biting back a cry as the heat of the flames seared my skin. It wasn’t just magical fire, something I could ignore with Adaptive Resistance; this was real, tangible fire. A trap to keep me contained in the chaotic tides of mana, to keep me from casting spells.

”And finally,” he declared, his voice thick with anticipation, ”the thing we’ve waited so long to do. A spell to chain a hero.”

He clapped his hands, and a third magic circle ignited, its runes appearing one by one, slowly inscribing a familiar, horrifying spell around me. It was modified and boosted to the seventh level, but I recognized it all the same—a Soul Crest curse.