The Forsaken Hero

A huge circular formation filled the floor of the Grand Inquisitor’s chambers. It held thousands, maybe millions, of runes, each casting a pillar of light from floor to ceiling in slowly rotating patterns. The mana it gave off shimmered in a haze around it, so thick it made my skin crawl despite the manacles muting the magic around me.

The pillars overlapped where their light met, casting pale bars across the walls. Even the corners were bright, leaving nowhere to turn without that glow catching my eyes.

The light stirred the emptiness in my soul, cold and harrowing. For that was all that remained in the absence of my aura, my bonds, Luke, and my mark: darkness and shadows. A void so deep it mirrored the light before me. It felt like... Fyren.

Korvin’s fingers wrapped around my horn, jerking my head up. I cried out as he slapped me across the face. I saw stars, biting my lip so hard that blood trickled from the corner of my mouth.

”Look at me, filthblood,” he said, raising me until I was at eye level with him. My feet kicked weakly before falling limp, dangling helplessly a foot above the ground.

”And look at you,” he continued, taunting, jeering. ”Your fate was sealed the moment you entered my trap. And yes, a trap. I knew you were coming. I’ve known and planned for it for months, but to think you’d actually be so foolish as to fall for it. Now I would ask: where are your friends? Where are your companions, your lovers?”

He spat in my face.

”It seems that just as you enticed them to betray us, they have now abandoned you.”

He dropped me on the ground. I hit hard and curled up, clutching my head. My horn ached at its roots, sending fire through my skull.

”Every battle,” Grand Inquisitor Korvin said, slowly pacing around me. ”You are the same. You head straight for the heart of our defenses to dismantle them from within. The others claimed your military advisors were too competent, that they would see this pattern and correct it in so important a conflict. But this war has dragged on too long for you, hasn’t it? You are weak and soft. You think you can bear the burden alone so that no one else has to suffer.”

He laughed, a deep, mocking sound.

”How hopelessly naive.”

The darkness inside me was growing. There was no light to check it, no warmth to balance its chill. I could barely focus on his words, and even my prayer, my desperate hope that Jessia would come, slipped from my mind.

”This space was sealed the instant you arrived. There will be no help. There will be no aid. Although I will admit I’m surprised you came alone. We were prepared for that oversized monster of yours, or the fire demon who seems to keep you on a leash. At least you could have brought your kindred spirit, the fated hero you seem to have found lying in the mud. After the gods used her body, I think you would agree that he made better use of it, no?”

”He killed thousands,” I whispered, my hands clenching into fists.

Tens of thousands gone, struck from the pattern, all for his pride and arrogance.

But one thing he’d said stuck with me.

Alone.

The Divine Throne’s wards were the closest thing to infallible you could have in a mortal realm. As he himself had said, they’d known the instant I arrived, even though I’d still had the Oracle of Eternity to ward me from scrying eyes.

But he thought I’d come alone.

The shadows seemed deeper now, and much, much darker. They almost seemed to move, swaying about the inquisitors as they looked on. Wisps rose from the ground, drawn toward the immense magic circle in the center of the chamber like moths to a flame.

”What do you want from me?” I asked. I was shivering violently now, and my tongue felt swollen, too numb to form the words properly.

”The gods want you dead. After that unfortunate incident with the descent, they no longer see value in keeping you alive. Quite the opposite, in fact. Every minute you’re alive is another minute with one fewer god to rise in the war. And you inspire hope. You’ve turned so many traitors against our cause across this world. Millions lie dead because of you: brothers turned against each other, fathers against their children, and friends against their neighbors.”

He knelt beside me, reaching out to caress my cheek with an almost gentle hand.

”Then do it,” I whispered, flinching away.

He clicked his tongue, withdrawing his hand.

”I do not think so, child, for I think there is much value within you yet. Your magic is exquisite for this world, far beyond the morsels the gods have given us. You hold access to a realm many would call fantastical, and even the ghosts of those long past have come to your aid. And most importantly, you hold the essence of godhood within your soul, chained by a familiar binding, no?”

He dragged a finger down my chest, following the chain until he came to the ring. I froze, unable to breathe, as he pressed his finger against it, pushing it into my chest.

”Whose chains do you wear now?” he asked softly. ”Which collar do you bind yourself with? How did a child like you come back to us just as you first arrived, trembling, hurt, and alone? How did you ever manage to reach the ninth level? All things we’re going to learn. All secrets you’re going to tell us.”

He stood, towering above me.

”And then you’ll die, as you were always meant to. Would you like a taste?”

The Grand Inquisitor raised a hand, and a red magic circle materialized over me. I couldn’t see the weave, not with the manacles. Would his magic even be able to touch me?

The answer came quickly, vindicating his confidence.

Pain shot through me. My veins lit with fire, my bones ached, and I screamed, rolling on the ground. With every second, the torture magic grew more potent, searing and agonizing, burning through every fiber of my being.

My fingers scraped against the stone, searching for something to hold. The floor was cold beneath me, but even that small relief vanished beneath the next burning pulse.

And yet, somehow, it wasn’t enough.

The fiery light poured into my soul, vanishing into the void without a trace. It was so dark and so cold.

Korvin lowered his hand, ending the spell. I panted, trembling. I coughed violently, my throat bloody and raw from screaming.

”How did you get in here?” he asked, his voice deceptively jovial. ”Teleportation isn’t something so easily accomplished, even with the shard, and yet you had none. Tell me, what spell did you learn, and from what ancient archives did you dig it up?”

I could only sob in response, hugging myself, curled tightly into a ball. The shadow inside seemed to react to that, swirling violently within me.

And not just inside. I could feel it in the air, radiating outward, swirling gently, searching for the warmth of the inquisitors’ souls.

”No,” I whispered.

Suddenly, strength welled up within me. I pushed myself up to my knees. The dark swirled around my body, my vision dimming, yet growing clearer with every moment.

”I won’t kneel again,” I said, willing myself to stand.

Somehow, my body obeyed.

”You act as though you have a choice. You were born to kneel, filthblood. Made for it. It’s in your very nature to submit to those greater than you. It’s in every Chapter of your book, spelled out on every page.”

”Every book comes to an end,” I whispered, closing my eyes and surrendering to the storm.

It shifted suddenly, and I could see again. Tens of thousands of flecks of darkness, hidden within a weave I couldn’t see. The shadows of stars, only revealed now because the stars no longer shone.

The darkness moved. It swallowed everything around me, engulfing the anti-magic field, the hum of the barrier, and even my own suppressed mana. It thickened until it was visible to the naked eye. To the inquisitors.

But before anyone could do more than gasp, shadowy tendrils erupted from the ground across the room. Inquisitors shouted in panic, summoning weapons and conjuring spells.

”Impossible! Damn you!” Grand Inquisitor Korvin shouted.

He clawed through the air, and a shining greatsword appeared in his hand, ablaze with sun magic. The tip plunged toward my breast, and from the coldness in his eyes, I knew there’d be no mercy. He was sharp enough to see there was no more time for hesitation.

But he was too late.

Guided by a power I didn’t quite understand, I raised a hand, and the sword stabbed through it. A ninth-level magical art detonated and simply vanished.

There was no pain, no light, no fire.

Just oblivion.