The Forsaken Hero

I spent hours huddled against the alley wall, crying until red tinged the sky. My shoulder shook with sobs long after my tears ran dry, until, at last, I heard a soft rustling down the alley. The noise grew closer, developing into the sound of footsteps, but I was far too absorbed in my anguish to notice–or care.

It was happening again. The Glory Chasers had been the closest thing to family I’d ever experienced. We had traveled together, ate together, and even fought together, yet now they had done the same as everyone I’d ever loved. Even if it had been an inquisitor walking toward me, it wouldn’t have mattered. Even death would be welcome, if it could quiet the raw ache in my heart.

Warm breath tickled my ear as a warm, wet nose pushed against my cheek. For a moment, I was disappointed by the tender touch, but the feeling washed away, replaced by another wave of tears.

”Oh, Fable,” I cried, throwing my arms around his neck. ”I...I tried so hard, and yet it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. She said to try, to never give up, but how can I when no one can love me? It hurts, Fable, more than I can bear.”

Fable whined softly and curled around me, enveloping me in his long, silky pelt. I buried my face in his fur, taking in the familiar warmth and scent. He had returned to his smaller size, a mere seven feet from nose to tail, but he felt as strong and steady as a mountain. His mana flowed unbidden, crashing into my soul with enough force to make me gasp. The comforting warmth washed through my veins, dispelling some of the darkness and despair that clung to me.

”Thank you,” I whispered, nuzzling him with my cheek.

His strength eased the pain in my torn soul. It held a wondrous, soothing power that seemed to knit the cracks together, restoring the damage I had inflicted by burning my own soul. As I had once done to him when he stood on the brink of madness without the ice gate, he now repaid in full. How such a thing was possible never entered my mind; I was just grateful he was there.

Long, dark hours dragged by. Wrapped in Fable’s comforting embrace, I stumbled through sleep, occasionally waking in a fresh bout of sobs and tears. By the time dawn broke, I was feeling better, though the aching anguish in my heart remained bitter and sharp. Feeling my wolf’s gaze, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, meeting his golden, starry eyes. He stared at me expectantly, going so far as to nudge my chest with a large paw.

”I know,” I sighed, yawning. ”We’re going to save them, but there’s something I have to take care of first.”

Even if he had spoken the truth, Alverin knew too much. How could he have possibly known about our private interactions, or correctly explained Tana’s habits? How did he know about all of the times they had questioned me?

Since reaching third level, my soul had been protected by the Eyes of Fate. The ability had been functioning differently since I reawakened it, but the part that shielded my soul from scrying eyes remained the same. If anything, it was more like a passive ability like Adaptive Resistance than an active one. Keeping it active required far less mana than before I broke my soul, to the point I could have it active even when I was exhausted. Furthermore, its protection applied even when I didn’t have it explicitly active, like when was sleeping. How else were the inquisitors unable to find me?

Regardless of my uncertainty regarding the changes, one thing was certain. The Circle of Chains shouldn’t be able to spy on me through magical means, which almost always required one to lock onto the soul. The only other option was that they were watching me through physical means. Though there might have been spies stalking us unseen, there were simply too many things Alverin mentioned that took place in more intimate settings, where there was nowhere to hide without magic, which I would have spotted immediately.

If he hadn’t observed us through personal scrying magic or by following us around, there was only one possibility left. Taking a deep breath, I opened my spatial ring and withdrew a fist-sized crystal–the core of the shadow golem. It was cold and lifeless, having long since lost the animating spells that drove it, but the lack of activity only made the small cluster of runes in the center all the more apparent.

The spell was small and subtle, barely visible even to my eyes, but its purpose was as clear as day. Even if it were locked in a spatial treasure, it allowed anyone to see and hear the environment around the bearer without being noticed. The Circle had been watching me for months now, ever since I killed the first shadow golem and claimed its core.

At the time, I had no idea what it was, but was too weak to use the Eyes of Fate and promised to examine it later. But, by the time I reached third level, Tana was able to identify them. Having learned what they were and being aware of their abilities, looking at it seemed unnecessary and I promptly forgot about it.

”Idiot,” I whispered.

A violent shiver traveled down my back and tail as I recalled when I nearly perfected the Soul Crest, the feeling of someone watching intently. Why hadn’t I realized it at the time? Had I actually done it, and completed the spell...

I let out a terrified whimper, burying my face in Fable’s fur again. The thought was too dreadful to even finish, causing me to tear up again. My only relief was that Fate had smiled on me and I had trusted my instincts, destroying it before the Circle could learn it. As of now, I was the only one on Enusia, no, the entire realm of the Divine, who knew the secret to such horrifying magic.

Judging by their progress so far and considering what I had given away, the Circle would never discover the full method of the spell. They had made as much progress as they could, even combined with the inquisitor’s experience with the slave crest. Only I, with the Eyes of Fate, my knowledge of magic, and my unique, intimate experience with the Soul Crest could have perfected it. But I would rather die than share it. No one deserved such power over another, to control their very heart and soul.

I shivered, prompting Fable to wrap tighter around me, nuzzling my cheek with his nose. Was that the real reason Alverin wanted me? He hadn’t lied to me yet, but that didn’t mean he mentioned the full truth. If I truly returned to him like he claimed I would, then wouldn’t that just be handing the Circle what they most desired? If he enslaved me, knowing I had completed it, it would only be a matter of time before he dragged it from my lips.

With a start, I realized I was still staring at the stone, and felt disgusted at its touch. Drawing upon the mana Fable had given me, I quickly cast a spell, weaving together four magic circles with as much strength as I could muster.

”Dispel Magic,” I uttered, staring intently into the depths of the sphere.

Instead of releasing a wave of chaotic mana, which would undoubtedly leave traceable residue, I wove it into fine threads of discordance, feeding it directly into the sphere. The sheer, concentrated power went beyond anything I’d seen from the spell before, but the modification held limited applicability. The dexterity and focus required made it useless in combat or against large enchantments, but it was perfect on small, condensed spells like this one.

The stone shivered, hairline cracks running across its crystalline face. The magic within flickered angrily, resisting the threads for a single breath before dissipating. I flinched as, deprived of the last vestiges of mana, the core shattered, spraying me with jagged shards of stone.

I stared at the fragments in my hand for a few seconds before breathing a sigh of relief. A small trickle of blood traced down my cheek, oozing from a shallow cut caused by the shrapnel. The wet heat reminded me of my other wounds, a catalyst that awakened the wounds I’d been ignoring. Spending the day and night in my own blood and filth had allowed them to fester, setting my flesh afire. Gasping from the pain, I quickly summoned my staff and cast another spell.

”Restoration.”

The soft, green Life Magic flowed over me, restoring my body to perfect condition. Sighing in relief, I closed my eyes and leaned my head against Fable. His body rose and fell with his breath, and I found myself drifting off.

Before I totally surrendered to sleep, Fable’s tongue dabbed my cheek. I groaned, pushing him away, but he refused to give up, licking me until I opened my eyes.

”Fine, fine, I get it,” I muttered, whipping his saliva from my face with my sleeve.

The sting of the Glory Chaser’s rejection was still fresh, but even if I felt like crawling away and crying, I couldn’t afford to give up. Perhaps the me from before would have surrendered to the pain, but somehow, I found the strength to stand. Sari and Ror were alone and scared, captured by those who would stop at nothing to break them. The thought of their small, innocent screams as their bodies were broken kindled a spark in my heart.

A year ago, I had destroyed a demon lord and the whole of Western University, all to protect Elise. After that, even crippled to fourth level, I had single-handily broken the assault of the Ice Demons, closing the strongest gate to have ever appeared on Enusia. I didn’t care what happened to me, but Vithrass had dared to touch those precious to me, who had loved me when no one else would.

It didn’t matter if I were alone, or unable to cast combat spells. They had taken Sari and Ror, and I would stop at nothing to get them back.