The Forsaken Hero

The Inquisitors pushed me through a doorway and into a large, open room. Another magic circle was etched upon the ground, spanning nearly twenty feet, with another identical circle carved on the ceiling fifteen feet above. A myriad of tools, tomes, and magical devices were spread across several rectangular tables scattered throughout the room. One of the inquisitors snatched an iron collar off a table and snapped it around my neck while the other fastened iron cuffs about my wrists. The first, a black-haired woman with a strong jawline, whispered a word, magically locking them.

The latter was a cruel-eyed man with a long scar across his forearm. Once the three bands were secure, he dragged me into the circle. The moment I stumbled across the threshold, the heavy weight of the steel bands seemed to double, dragging me down to the ground. Glimmering, magical tethers shot out of the upper circle like tentacles, clawing across my body and attaching to the wrist cuffs, drawing my hands up until my arms were fully suspended. I groaned as they taught, stressing my back and shoulders and forcing me to stand on my tiptoes.

I shifted uneasily, doing my best to relieve the pressure on my limbs. ”What do you want with me?”

”Silence,” the inquisitor snapped. ”Speak only when spoken to.” Then, turning to the other, ”Prepare the rings.”

The black-haired woman nodded and started riffling through the contents of a box on the table. The male inquisitor reached forward, his fingers groping toward me menacingly. Crying out, I struggled against the magical bonds, but was helpless to resist as he grabbed the hem of my dress. Then, exerting a fraction of his seventh-level strength, he jerked away, effortlessly tearing the garment from my body. I froze, rigid in horror, as my slender body was exposed to the sticky, stagnant air.

A terrified shiver coursed down my spine, shaking my entire body, as the man’s eyes emotionlessly crawled over me, lingering on the faintly glowing slave crest between my breasts. A slight whimper escaped my lips, and I turned my head, my tail stiffening in apprehension.

But nothing happened. After a moment, I dared to open my eyes, finding the man bent over, his head dangerously close to my naked chest. But his eyes held no signs of lust or desire, but practically dripped with disgust. Even so, I held my breath, heart pounding, until he finished studying the intricate patterns of the slave crest and turned away.

”Revera’s hand was steady,” he said.

The girl nodded and held up a ring drawn from the box. ”We are prepared on this end. Shall I fetch the Grand Inquisitor?”

”No need. He’ll be busy preparing for the Heroes’ Return and celebration. That’s next week, after all.”

”Then what should we do with the filthblood?” she asked, shooting me a look of disgust.

He shrugged. ”The Grand Inquisitor simply said to prepare her. I have other matters to attend to, and I assume you do as well.”

The two spoke for a second longer before slipping out of the room, not sparing me a second thought. I pondered calling after them, begging for something to eat or wear, or even just relief from the chains, but the door clicked shut before I could gather the courage.

I shivered, alone in the hot, hostile light and surrounded by countless unknown tools. While some appeared harmless, some bore a frightening resemblance to the things the professor had tortured me with beneath the Western University.

A small voice whispered doubts in the back of my mind. What were they going to do to me? Why couldn’t they just kill me and be done with it?

My chest tightened, my breath coming in shallow gasps. My shoulders were beginning to ache, and my stomach twisted, filled with the familiar pain of hunger. I hadn’t eaten since before the assault on the gate, but I pushed that to the back of my mind. I was just a slave now, without strength or background. At the very least, I knew they’d keep me alive until they resumed the trial, but what about before then?

Gradually, my panic subsided and I was left feeling empty, and purposeless. My magic was gone, restricted by the Soul Binder ring, and there was no one I could count on for help. There was no Elise to pull me from the darkness, not this time. I was alone. Well and truly alone.

Thron was up there, somewhere. I found myself yearning to see him once more, to feel his comforting hand on my head, rubbing between my horns. But that was impossible now. How would he look at me, now? Would his eyes widen in fear, or narrow in disgust? I had killed tens of thousands and caused the ruin of an entire city. To him, I was just another demonkin monster, bent on destroying the world.

No, not Thron. He wouldn’t be afraid, just disappointed.

Something hot splashed onto my shoulder, and I opened my eyes to find tears trickling down my cheeks. My heart ached, overpowering the burning pain in my arms and shoulders. For some reason, the thought of meeting Thron like that filled me with crippling apprehension. Maybe...maybe it was for the best I’d never see him again. Even if he wanted to, there was no way he could find me down here.

The hours dragged on, one painful minute after the next. At some point, as I drifted in and out of fitful unconsciousness, my arms and shoulders went numb. The position was even more extreme than my captivity at the Western University, allowing for now slack all. The cuffs dug into my wrists, wearing them raw, but I hardly cared anymore. The physical pain was a welcome distraction to the mental anguish I battled with every waking thought. I often awoke from fitful bouts of unconsciousness crying, an inconsolable ache in my heart. Besides the strain of the magical chains, I could handle the hunger, but my throat was beyond parched, and it hurt just to breathe.

After an eternity, the door finally opened, and Grand Inquisitor Korvin strode through. His eyes racked over my naked form before settling on the slave crest, and he grinned viciously.

”Perhaps you’ve heard, filthblood, but you’re our first successful slave to survive the dual binding. There’s only one problem,” he said, holding up the Soul Binder ring, ”A Divine Artifact is far too valuable to waste on a dirty demon like you. As you survived our previous experiment, it is only right we complete the second part, the transfer.”

He paused for a moment, as though waiting for a response, but I remained staring duly at the ground.

”It seems a few days in the Dusk Chambers has taught you some obedience. A welcome change, I must say.”

A few days? I weakly raised my head, struggling to meet his iron gaze. But there was no sympathy there, only cold disgust. I tried to say something, to beg for release or even just a few drops of water, but my throat rasped painfully, swollen shut.

He leaned over, putting his face dangerously close to mine. I flinched away, eyes wide, as he laid a hand on my chest. His skin was rough against mine, but his touch held no dirty intentions, tracing strictly over the lines of the slave crest. I was an animal to him, no, worse, a demon. How could he possibly desire my frail-half-starved body?

”Even in this state, I find your soul impressive,” he murmured. ”But will it survive?”

His hand began to glow, and an uncomfortable itch spread through my chest. He lifted his other hand, and the ring the other inquisitor had set on the table flew to his hand. As he returned his concentration to the spell, the magic circles began to glow brighter. Thousands of runes materialized around us, creating a sort of cage between the circles with us at its center.

Despite my exhaustion, something about the spell drew my attention, and I couldn’t help but solemnly watch it. The runes felt familiar, flowing into me and joining the spells already etched into my mind. Without the Eyes of Fate, it was impossible to know the details, but it just felt right.

”...” I whimpered.

Korvin glanced at me and raised an eyebrow. ”What was that?”

”F-fate...” I groaned, forcing out the word.

”Impressive,” he replied, ”Even crippled and without your abilities, you can still tell what kind of magic this is. It’s a shame, really. Not one in a million can do that. Such talents are wasted on a scrawny slut like you.”

The whirl of runes spun faster and faster. The slave crest burned bright, and a searing pain lanced through my soul. I groaned, squirming weakly in my bonds, but there was no escaping the pain. It burned through every vein in my body, forcing a scream through my parched throat.

Slowly, the spell pushed foreign mana into my soul. It circled slowly, binding the fragments together and slowly working at the threads binding them together. The mana squeezed beside the threads, mimicking the spiderweb pattern until the network was complete.

Slowly, the threads withdrew. My soul trembled, straining against the replacement mana, but the bonds held firm, restricting my soul to that which it was before. The entire process took minutes to complete, and when it was done, I sagged against the chains, panting.

”It’s done,” Korvin said. ”Your bond has been successfully shifted onto this ring. You can be proud to know that, despite your foul nature, you have contributed something to this world. A new way of bonding slaves, one that doesn’t just bind their bodies, but their very soul.”

I’d done plenty to contribute, from inventing new spells to closing demon gates and killing a demon lord’s avatar. But I hung limply, not having enough strength to argue with him, even if it was only in my mind. I was just so tired, and ready for it all to end. Little did I know the horrors were only beginning.