The Forsaken Hero

My eyes widened at the instruction. ”W-what?”

”Strip,” Revera impatiently. ”We must prepare you for the ritual.”

Nervously, I grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it over my shoulders. Her eyes glanced over my naked body, narrowing as they fell on my horns and tail. I shivered at her gaze, but after the harrowing torture of the warehouse, I lacked the will to so much as cover myself.

”Why did he have to choose you?” She muttered to herself. ”Now, raise your arms.”

After a brief moment of hesitation, I obeyed and raised them above my head. She withdrew a long, fluted wand from her robes. It was bone white and covered in gold writing, about the length of my forearm. She placed the tip of it between my breasts, flat as they were, and chanted a few words.

Cold light seeped from the runes on the wand and filled the room with a crimson tinge. Revera traced a circle on my chest with the wand, which left a thin line of red light on my skin. It burned, growing hotter with each passing second, until I bit my lip, barely holding back a cry.

Once the circle was complete, she lifted the wand before placing it back down again, where she’d started, beginning to draw strange symbols within the circle. They looked like some sort of hieroglyph or rune and glowed with the same fiery light. There must have been over a hundred of them, taking several minutes, leaving me panting, my tail lashing with pain, the lines blazing across my skin. When the last rune went down, she withdrew the wand and returned it to the pouch.

”Done. Now, clothe yourself again. We must be going.”

I took a shaky breath and looked down at the marks. The light had disappeared, leaving behind what looked like a crimson tattoo. The skin around the lines was puffy and red, and I touched it tentatively, wincing as it ached like a bruise. When I pulled my dress back on, about a third of the circle and runes remained visible above the neckline.

”What did you do?” I asked, gingerly touching my chest.

”Simply applied the slave crest. It’ll be binding once the Hero completes the ritual with his blood.”

”Slave crest?”

She stared at me with that same baffled look. ”Do you really not know what a slave crest is?”

The priestess let out a long sigh as I shook my head. ”A slave crest is a magic contract forged between the slave and their master. It binds to their souls and maintains a connection. This slave crest binds your very life to him, so if he falls, so do you. Furthermore, a slave crest demands obedience. You will be punished severely if you disobey his commands given through the slave crest. Understand?”

I nodded meekly, already hating it. I’d grown fearful already of the sound of chains, but this was something else entirely. Would living my own life even be possible? I regained some calm as I remembered the kindness and light of the hero. Surely, he wouldn’t agree to this. But even if he did, there was no way he’d ask me to do anything too bad.

As I resolved that thought, Revera withdrew a key and freed my chain from the bed. ”We must go now. Keep up.”

I staggered as she grabbed it like a leash and walked out of the room, pulling me in her wake. I hustled to keep up with her long strides to avoid being dragged along behind her.

”Please, slow down,” I mumbled, struggling to maintain the pace.

My plea fell on deaf ears, and I found what little strength I’d recovered fading away. The hallways were long and winding, lit every few feet by a glowing crystal or a window. We passed by many identical closed doors before arriving at a circular staircase. My breathing grew labored as we ascended, and my tail dragged against the ground. Sensitive as it was, I winced at the abrasion but didn’t have the energy to hold up. After a hundred steps, natural light flooded the stairway and we arrived at the top.

”Come along,” Revera said impatiently, half dragging me up the last few stairs.

I fought to catch my breath as we continued on once more. The hallways were lined with tall, slender windows. Through the narrow panes, I could make out the bright colors of flowers. We were several stories up, giving a limited view of expansive gardens and fields. There were many large open spaces between the carefully manicured gardens. Groups of soldiers and priests gathered around them, training with weapons.

My eyes widened in delight as I found a field filled with magic. The priests gathered there, chanted spells, and drew magical runes in the air, creating wondrous effects. Some used fire, sending the flames dancing through the air or soaring about in the shape of birds. Rainbow-colored light spun around others, building shields or concentrated rays that shot at other mages. One mage, a beautiful woman with pointed ears, pointed at the sky and created a small cloud above. Glowing raindrops made of light scattered through the air, bringing a revitalizing strength to the other mages.

Revera dragged us on before I could see more, moving away from the windows and deeper into the building. Awe filled my soul at the sights I’d seen, but that was quickly trampled away by the priests we passed in the hallways. Every time, without fail, they would begin to politely greet Revera.

Though she wasn’t dressed any differently, the old priestess seemed an important person among their ranks. However, when their eyes fell on me, grimaces of disgust would disfigure their faces. Many crossed to the other side of the wide hallways or cursed ”filthblood” under their breath. It seemed too quiet for anyone to hear, but my keen ears picked up every word. The corridors and twisted faces never seemed to end, coming one after the other. I was lost after just a few turns, making me feel even more alone.

After an eternity, we finally arrived before a grandiose set of double doors. The dark wooden doors, covered in glowing runes, stretched twenty feet tall. Revera knocked loudly, and we stepped back as they began to open.