The Forsaken Hero

I followed Thron to the library, laying my elbows on the counter as he sat down. As the old librarian settled in his chair, I realized it was the first time I’d seen him outside the library. Stories claimed that he loved knowledge more than his own family, leaving them behind in some faraway kingdom to care for the books at the Divine Throne.

Thron cleared his throat, cutting through my thoughts. I looked up curiously as he picked up a quill and began scratching on a piece of parchment. I found myself a little jealous of his neat, graceful script. I’d never had the opportunity to write much in my previous life, barely learning to read as it was, and didn’t have much talent for the complex written languages of Enusia. After Awakening, my soul automatically translated any language, something common among all heroes, but that didn’t extend to writing.

I blinked as his old, leathery lips puckered as he blew on the parchment, drying the ink. His exaggerated posture was one for cheering up children, yet I found it strangely comforting.

”I found your request most curious and devoted a few hours researching this morning. Dispel Magic is an ancient spell, likely one of the first ever devised and recorded. This library doesn’t contain any original works from those days, as they are much too valuable to risk with the general public. We keep anything dating more than a couple of hundred years safely stored in the Archives.”

It wasn’t my first time hearing about the Archives, and I recalled what little I knew. The Archives was an underground chamber deep in the heart of the mountains, accessed through the maze-like catacombs beneath the Divine Throne. Soltair pointed it out as we made our way to the Colosseum, but I was too distracted at the time to take much note.

After making sure the ink was dry, Thron rolled the scroll and tied it with a golden ribbon. ”Show this to the archivists. It’s a letter of endorsement and should allow you entry as you will.” He held it out to me, and I reached up to take it. As I tried to pull it from his hand, his grip tightened. ”This is a privilege few are granted, even among the upper echelon. Do not abuse it.”

I nodded, feeling his words bind to the Slave Crest. The Pope’s command was quickly growing old, but I suppressed my irritation and tucked the letter away. I would follow his request based on my respect for the librarian, and in appreciation of his kindness, not because some curse magic forced me to.

”Thank you,” I said, bowing my head to the librarian. I didn’t understand the motivation behind his kindness, nor did I ask. But the last thing I wanted was to take it for granted.

”Take care, Xiviyah,” Thron said with a smile. ”I trust you can find the archive? Or would you like some instructions?”

”I’ll manage,” I said quickly, shivering as memories of Davin flashed through my mind. I knew the instructions weren’t at fault, but even thinking of the situation a jolt of phantom pains through my chest. I frowned, hoping I had overcome that through the Spar with Selena, but it seems some wounds take longer to heal.

I managed well enough, at least until I didn’t. After asking directions from a few of the Divine Throne’s guards, I found a nearby entrance to the catacombs and headed for the archive. The walls of the tunnels were lined with ancient stone, put together without mortar, and reinforced with countless magic runes. They were mostly dark, with periodic light crystals marking branching corridors, doors, or lifts. I supposed most priests would summon a magical light to guide them on their path, but the darkness held no mysteries for my demonic eyes.

After the bustle of the Divine Throne, the solitude and emptiness felt almost unsettling. Every once in a while, I would hear what sounded like footsteps, but echoes traveled miles within the catacombs, and even my sharp ears couldn’t determine their distance. Even so, I grew worried that someone followed behind, waiting for me to lower my guard to reveal themselves. I hastened my pace, nervously casting glances over my shoulder at every turn.

At long last, the damp stagnant air of the tunnels overturned with the musty scent of paper, and the archive doors came into view. I sighed in relief and slowed, taking a second to catch my breath. I was nearly a mile in and had begun to grow worried I was lost.

Flickering light streamed through the archive’s open doors, beckoning me inward. I approached cautiously, unsure of what awaited me. Once past the doors, the walls widened considerably and the ceiling vanished overhead, stretching out of my sight into the murky darkness. A large crystal, perhaps twenty feet tall, dominated the center of the cavern. I peered at it with the Eyes of Fate momentarily, quickly averting my gaze at the staggering magic within.

Rubbing my eyes, I blinked away the blinding light and stared at it in awe. Could this be another Shard of Omniscience? All else forgotten, I walked forward, reaching out my hand to touch it.

”And who might you be?”

I jumped, bashfully hiding my hand behind my back. A brown-robbed priest laden with age and leaning on a staff stood in one the mouth of a tunnel. His watchful gaze was filled with suspicion and hostility, and he waited expectantly for my reply.

”H-hello,” I stammered, fumbling with the scroll Thron had given me.

The priest frowned until I finally managed to pull it out and walked over. His cane thumped loudly on the ground with every step, making me wonder how I ever could have missed his approach. A strange aura broke over me as he neared, muddling my thoughts and slowing my movements.

”What’s this?” he asked, his eyes never leaving me as he unfurled the scroll.

He waited for a second, but I still struggled with the strange sensations emanating from him and couldn’t muster a reply. He leaned closer, curling a finger under my chin and staring into my eyes.

My eyes widened in surprise as a strange will invaded my mind, taking advantage of my confused state and weakened resistance. I cried out, going limp as a terrible pain erupted in my head, ripping through my thoughts like a jagged knife. With the last vestiges of my will, I opened the Eyes of Fate. Immediately, the pain disappeared, and the invading mind was rebuffed.

”Hmm?” The priest’s eyebrows rose, and he stepped back in surprise. Taking advantage of his distraction, I tore my eyes away and collapsed to my knees, panting softly. What kind of attack was that?

My vision wavered slightly as my mana slipped away, and I was forced to cancel the Eyes of Fate. While I still had most of my mana left, this was the limit my soul could handle.

”So, you are the hero everyone’s talking about,” the priest said, causing me to look up. ”Xiviyah, is it? I finally understand why that old man wouldn’t shut up about you.”

His aura continued to suppress me, and it took a moment to process his words. With some effort, I raised myself to my feet, careful not to meet his eyes again. ”Who are you?” I asked, voice slurred with effort.

The sound of crinkling paper echoed my question as the priest unrolled the scroll and scanned through it. After a moment, his eyes lifted off the message and fell on me once more.

”You may call me Rithen. I’m a rather old comrade of Lysander, and the Keeper of the Archive.”

”Lysander?”

I vividly remembered the old ninth-level mage who had so kindly shared the Aegis spell and shared some of his wisdom of magic. How could this man, who likely spent all his time in this murky cavern, be acquainted with such a powerful figure? Unless...

I backed away, nearly falling again as I stared at the priest.

”A-are you also...?” I stammered, almost daring to use the Eyes of Fate again.

”Indeed. I must say, it’s rather surprising you managed to resist the Mind Probe. Few of your strength can last more than a second before becoming blubbering messes. Why, the last one took almost a year to recover!”

I scooted a little further back as maniacal laughter crawled from his throat, not taking my eyes off the madman before me. He threw something that dangerous around when we first met?

His laughter cut off and he looked at me in confusion. ”Is everything alright? You look especially pale.”

”Everything’s fine!” I squeaked. My tail lashed nervously behind me, and I prayed he’d be willing to drop it here. Who knows what other kinds of twisted magic he might use?

”Oh, dear me. I do apologize for my rather rude greeting. Allow me to make it up with a favor. Do you have anything you wish to ask the Keeper of the Archives and one of the few living ninth-level casters?”