The Forsaken Hero

”Ready?” Bethiv asked, his gaze meeting mine.

We stood before the imposing gates, two hundred soldiers arrayed behind us. Their souls radiated intense mana, so concentrated that it made the air shimmer like heat rising from the ground. I couldn’t remember ever seeing so many powerful souls gathered in one place, their combined energy illuminating the courtyard.

They all waited for my command, their faces a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. But I was frozen, my tail stiff and my hands trembling. With a single word, it would all begin—my final battle to save Elise and destroy the Circle. It had taken years to reach this point, years of hardship, tears, and suffering. Was I truly ready to face the man who had orchestrated so much of my pain?

Fable’s soft growl reverberated through me, the warmth of his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of my emotions. I was about to face the Circle, but I wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

”Do it,” I whispered, steeling my resolve. ”Let’s get this over with.”

Bethiv nodded grimly and stepped forward, raising his sword high. Light gathered on the blade, growing blindingly bright until it forced me to avert my gaze.

”Break!” he roared, swinging his sword downward in a powerful arc.

A brilliant wave of mana erupted from the blade, slashing horizontally through the gates of the inner courtyard. The enchantments woven into the wood and steel groaned and buckled under the force of the attack, then shattered completely. A tense silence hung in the air as both sides held their breath.

Then, the gates exploded, sending fragments of wood and steel flying like deadly shrapnel. Screams erupted from the other side as the soldiers within were peppered with debris.

”For freedom!” Bethiv bellowed, charging through the ruined gateway.

”For freedom!” the rest of his battalion echoed, surging forward in his wake.

Their battle cry drowned out the deafening roar of the mana cannons, sending a thrill through my heart. This was a battle far greater than just Elise and me. It was a battle to determine the fate of this world—no, of all worlds under the gods’ oppressive grip. A battle to decide whether souls would be free to control their own destinies or whether they would be forever bound by divine crests.

Several sixth-circle spells erupted from our ranks, bathing the battlements above in a torrent of flames. Soldiers screamed as they caught fire, their arrows and spells flying wide, striking their own comrades in the chaos.

My grip on Fable’s fur tightened, my slithering anxiously across Fable’s fur, as Bethiv breached the gate. He swung his sword in another powerful arc, blasting the remnants of the gate into splinters and revealing the courtyard beyond.

The courtyard was vast, perhaps half a mile wide and just as deep, with the palace at its heart. Brithlite’s palace was a magnificent display of wealth and luxury, with sprawling gardens and ornate marble fountains. Tall, stained-glass windows adorned the lower floors while elegant towers and halls soared skyward. It starkly contrasted the fortresses we’d faced until now, with little thought given to practical defensive construction.

Dozens of smaller buildings surrounded the palace, from beautiful cathedrals to the royal guard’s barracks. Everywhere I looked, soldiers and siege weapons, from ballistae to mana cannons, filled the courtyards. There must have been another five thousand troops within, all waiting for this moment.

The Brithlite commanders barked orders, and the soldiers sprang into action, charging towards the small group clustered in the shattered gateway. Bethiv wasted no time either, bellowing commands in a thunderous voice, leading the counter-offensive from the front.

The initial clash was a bloodbath. Dozens of fifth and sixth-level techniques tore through the Brithlite army, slaying hundreds in an instant. A few powerful inquisitors and mages rose to meet our charge but quickly succumbed to the overwhelming number of empowered soldiers.

”Why don’t you just hit them with a Mana Storm?” Jenna asked, tossing her hair, ”It’s big enough to cover the entire battle, isn’t it?”

”That...wouldn’t be a good idea.” I shivered as my skin grew hot, burning with phantom flames, as I remembered the last time I used a Mana Storm near a Shard of Omniscience. The Circle was too unpredictable to risk it, and another similar trap might be in place.

I waited for five agonizing heartbeats after the initial clash before urging Fable forward, giving them time to fully engage the enemy. The last thing we needed was for some stray battalion or a group of mages to catch wind of our plan and slow us down, allowing the enemy to redeploy forces in our direction.

Fable surged into action, a silver blur across the courtyard, his aura blasting back anyone unlucky enough to be in our path. The main cathedral stood adjacent to the front gates of the palace, guarded by a skeleton crew of Church soldiers left behind in the initial clash.

Their eyes widened in terror as they saw us approach, but Gith’s bow twanged repeatedly, arrows finding their marks with deadly accuracy. Kahlen’s swords streaked ahead of us, leaving trails of fire and lightning in their wake. By the time we reached the cathedral, the remaining guards had been eliminated.

The gates were indeed protected by magic, but Luxxa wasted no time using a magic art to counter it. With a practiced gesture, she summoned a series of thick vines that snaked their way into the gate’s seams and hinges, tearing them apart with surprising force.

The cathedral beyond was breathtaking. Open and spacious, it rivaled the size and grandeur of the buildings in the Divine Throne. Light streamed through the massive stained glass windows, painting the polished stone floor in a kaleidoscope of colors. The great hall lay directly before us, dominated by ten imposing statues of the gods, their eyes seeming to follow our every move. My gaze was drawn to a statue of a tall, handsome man clad in robes woven from starlight.

The moment my eyes met the statue’s, a chill permeated the air, sending a shiver down my spine. I could feel a palpable sense of malice emanating from the stone, a distant aura that seemed to reject my very existence. Traitor. Imposter.

”Halt!” a voice cried, echoing off the vaulted ceiling and arched walls.

At last, I turned to the inner space within the ring of statues, where a group of soldiers was huddled beneath the Shard of Omniscience. They were clad in gleaming silver and gold armor, the one who addressed us wearing a white inquisitor’s cloak. Several priests stood beside the shard behind them, fiddling with the many crystals that formed the magic device of the Heart Crest. Though their souls were all fifth-level, the inquisitor sixth, they shifted uneasily, eyes darting about. Hopeful, expectant even.

”Where is she?” I heard one mutter, adjusting his grip on his sword.

The inquisitor silenced the priest with a withering glare, then took a step towards us, his expression a mask of righteous fury. ”You dare enter this hallowed hall, filth-blood?” he spat. ”Have you no reverence for sacred things?”

I stared at him impassively, refusing to dignify his question with a response. He stiffened, his frown deepening, and waved a hand toward the crystal device.

”Damn it all. Curse them!” he roared.

One of the priests embraced his mana, channeling it into the central crystal. The entire device began to glow, greedily siphoning mana from the Shard of Omniscience. The Star Guard tensed, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons, but I subtly shook my head. Let them try and fail, I thought. It’s about time their spirits were broken instead.

The inquisitor’s lips curled into a triumphant sneer as the device reached its peak, glowing with an intense light. The priest manipulated his mana, and a black fog began to ooze from the crystals. It gathered above us in a thick cloud of miasma, its power growing until its aura reached the upper stages of the sixth level.

”Now!” the inquisitor commanded.

The cloud erupted, a wave of darkness sweeping across the room, passing intangibly through the physical structures. It was like an incoming tide, swift and relentless, but I didn’t react, letting it wash over us. My tail stiffened as it reached my soul, a cold, dark, and invasive presence, but I forced it to relax, breathing easier as Adaptive Resistance pulsed warmly within me. I could sense a similar struggle within my companions’ souls as my power surged through the Nexus, battling the encroaching curse.

The wave of the Heart Crest flowed out of the cathedral, spreading like a dark tide through the city. One by one, the souls of the two hundred soldiers fighting with Bethiv lit up, drawing strength from my ability. I held my breath, my fingers tightening around my staff, my heart pounding in my chest.

The warmth in my chest intensified as the curse’s power crashed against us, bearing down with the weight of a mountain. This was the moment of truth. Had they managed to devise a curse potent enough to overcome my ability?

Rationally, I knew it shouldn’t be possible. But time seemed to slow to a crawl, the space between each heartbeat dragging out. My chest itched where the lines of the slave crest had once been carved into my flesh, and I nearly cried out as the sunpurge flared, claiming another inch of my shoulder. A coincidence? Or was my soul losing the battle?

Then, at all once, my soul flared, sending a pulse of power through the Nexus. The curse melted away like dew before the summer sun. I sagged as the pressure abruptly vanished, my chest heaving with every pant, tears gathered in the corner of my eyes. It was done; the curse had failed. I was free.