The Forsaken Hero

Fate smiled kindly as I gripped my skirt, staring at the ground.

”I see,” she said, ”But I thought you were opposed to asking me for help. Why come to me for this thing?”

”I’ve done everything I can on my own,” I said in a small voice. ”I recovered my memories, reconnected with my soul, and grasped my abilities. But this one thing...I don’t know how to start. I...I didn’t want to, but...I can’t do it alone.”

”And you don’t think I’ll refuse you again?”

I shook my head. ”No...”

”Hmm. You’re right.”

I brightened at her words, and I looked up eagerly, tail swishing. ”Really?”

”Of course I’ll help you. Haven’t I promised to support you? You’ve worked hard, coming as far as you could on your own. Let me take you the rest of the way.”

She beckoned to me, taking my hand as I came to her.

”Close your eyes, child, and look inward. Let my divinity fill you. Feel its warmth.”

I did as she asked, letting out a long, gentle sigh as the power welled up within my soul. When I held as much of it as I could, I opened my eyes again, finding the world had taken on a golden hue.

A small spark of mana leaped from Fate’s hand to me, traveling up my arm and into my soul. I gasped as it struck the Oracle of Eternity like a rock falling into a still pond, sending ripples that caused my horns to tingle and toes to curl. The feeling intensified as stars began crawling across my vision in swelling waves, gradually blotting out more and more of the world. When I could see nothing through the golden light, the light began to fade again. With it went the warm grip of Fate’s hand, the cool draft of the cathedral, and the ground beneath my feet. I felt entirely weightless, drifting through a sea of darkness.

As I struggled to adjust to the new sensation, stars began appearing again. Not in a mist or sea, but all around. I floated amid the night sky. My body, I discovered, was translucent and gold, like a remnant’s form. I could still breath, touch, and see, but I didn’t need those senses to interpret what was going on around me.

A Soul Space.

The memory surfaced like it was waking from a long night’s sleep. I repeated the term several times, growing more confident in its meaning. I was in my soul space.

Tentatively, I caught hold of a thought, the closest thing to the surface. Luke’s smile. Warmth filled my as my soul space responded, and the darkness broke apart into swirling stars, weaving a scene around me. In moments, I stood in a grove of dying trees. Branches sagged, leaves wilted. Everything was an icky, yellowish color. Small ribbons of black mist drifted across the ground, curling around the trunks and browning bushes.

My eyes darted around, finding a small clearing a few paces away. I ran forward, passing straight through a tree, before freezing in place. My heart skipped a beat, my tail stiff and rigid. There he was. Luke.

He was dressed in dark armor, with his sword on his hip and staff in hand. His cloak billowed around him, fastened around his neck by a golden brooch that looked incredibly out of place on his otherwise drab garb.

I felt no need to breathe, but I gasped as I recovered my senses, running to his side. I fought the urge to throw my arms around him, instead grabbing his arm, my hand slipping into his...through his. I stumbled forward, passing through him like a ghost. He didn’t react, or turn, or call my name. He didn’t feel warm, firm, or strong. He didn’t feel like anything at all.

A sudden wave of despondency washed over me, and I drifted back, tail drooping. It wasn’t Luke. I knew that, and yet...why? If anyone else had been there, I’d just have been embarrassed for acting so...freely. Now I just felt sad.

As my desire died, so did the vision. Luke had neither said nor done anything in the seconds I’d been there, but I couldn’t bring myself to will it back. Seeing him look so real and warm...it was worse than not seeing him at all.

But instead of returning me to the void, my soul space opened the curtains on another vision. My despondency faded as I looked around, curiosity piqued by the familiar architecture of Sylvarus. I was in a dusky inn common room, or perhaps a tavern. I never really figured out if there was a difference between those two things. Elves of all shapes and sizes sat around circular tables, murmuring in low voices. Their souls glittered brightly, ranging from third to sixth-level, but there must have been almost fifty of them, and every one of them bore weapons. Their combined auras made the air waver like it was underwater.

Curiously, they all wore a patch sewn somewhere on their garb. It featured a black rune that I vaguely recognized as standing for shadows. Not the standard rune for shadows with the connotation of darkness or evil, but of mystery and the unknown. But I still didn’t get a good feeling looking at their rugged faces and cold eyes.

The door burst open as two elves dressed in thick black cloaks stumbled through. One clutched his arm, blood streaming through his fingers, while the other’s soul was dark, mana completely drained. A haze of discordant energy hung about him, scattering the errant ribbons of mana drifting around the room.

”Everett!” a sixth-level elf said, jumping to his feet. His sword flashed from his scabbard, filling the room with its hazy blue glow. ”What the hell happened to you?”

”...coming...” the elf with the wound gasped, falling headlong against a table. Blood pooling across the wood from a wound he’d concealed under his cloak.

”Whose coming? Jevra, what happened? Don’t tell me you were followed back?”

The other newcomer collapsed into an empty chair, head resting on the table. He stared duly at the wall, not answering.

The entire room was on guard now. A dozen blades flashed in the light, almost all magical. The low murmur had risen to angry whispers, but they stilled as a new figure strode through the doorway. My gasp joined the others’ as I recognized Aerion. He wore a deep crimson cloak over his usual uniform-like tunic, with his sword strapped to his waist. He looked over the tavern with a frown, glaring at the armed and very hostile-looking elves.

”Lord Sunsinger,” the sixth-level elf said, rising from the side of the fallen. ”This is most...unexpected.”

Aerion’s eyes narrowed at him. ”Ixtren.” He stalked through the room, ignoring the dozen or so naked blades pointed at him. ”Who hired you? What house dared target my guests?”

”I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ixtren said, backing away. ”And you know how things work. The names of our targets have never been relevant.”

”Pathetic.” Aerion spat on the ground. He raked his gaze over the room, sparing none the fury of his words. ”Have you no pride? All of you were adventurers, at one time or another. You’ve slain monsters, Risen, and even demons. Yet here you are, scrapping by with whatever coin the nobles throw you to do their dirty work. You, some of the strongest among the elves, are living a life in the gutter. Truly pathetic.”

His words stabbed like knives, the elves fidgeting and avoiding his gaze.

”How did you find this place?” Ixtren asked, glaring back.

”It wasn’t hard. I just followed the stench of failure. And the trail of blood,” Aerion replied, nodding to the two downed elves.

”I...apologize if your house was made a target,” Ixtren said stiffly. ”But those agents acted on their own. The Dark Guild isn’t in the habit of overseeing contracts and bears no responsibility for their actions.”

”You didn’t target my house,” Aerion said, ”No, that would have been far better. You attacked the one person you couldn’t afford to target. You crossed a line that should never have been crossed.”

”You’re no better than the rest,” Aerion sneered. ”Hiding behind rules, dispersing accountability behind structure. It’s a good defense against the Houses, but I’m not here on behalf of my family. Because you didn’t target my house, Ixtra, you targeted someone you ought not to have. You’ve crossed a line that should never have been crossed.”

Aerion’s aura tightened, stealing the breath of everyone in the room.

Ixtra, pale as the rest, stammered, ”I told you. We don’t oversee contracts. It’s not our–”

”You pretend to hate the houses, yet you are just like them,” Aerion sneered. ”Hiding behind rules, avoiding consequences with excuses. I don’t care for your rules. You only exist because I consciously allow it.”

”Are you threatening us? The law–”

”Will do nothing to dull the sharpness of my sword. There are no words, no traditions, no laws that can change reality. Only power.”

He emphasized the point with another burst of aura, before allowing it to slacken. Elves collapsed around him, the weakest directly falling unconscious.

”What do you want?” Ixtra gasped.

”To give you a choice. You can continue to serve as the lapdog of the nobles, doing the work they pretend themselves above. If this is your choice, I shall give you forgiveness this once. But should you show a hair of your head before me, or gods forbid, those you shouldn’t touch, nothing will stop me from annihilating every single member of the dark guild.”

Ixtra licked his lips. ”And the other option?”

”Heh, caught your interest, have I?” Aerion’s lips curved into a cold, vicious grin. ”You’ve been obedient dogs for too long. The next time your masters call, don’t answer. You serve me now.”