The Forsaken Hero

There were hundreds of small cells like this one scattered through the Dusk Chambers, yet I knew this was mine. It had been my first and only cell, where the inquisitors had slowly torn one secret after another from my bruised and bloody body. The table stood where I remembered it, beneath a narrow light that barely reached the corners.

I struggled to draw a full breath. Only part of the tightness in my chest came from fear. The rest was the pressure of the barrier the church had raised around the Divine Throne. It bore down with the weight of a world barrier, seeming to constrict with every breath. Fashioned almost entirely from sun mana, it pressed against my wards without pause. If they failed, I wasn’t sure my soul would survive, caught between that pressure and the unstable power within me.

”Gods, I haven’t been down here in a while,” Jessia murmured.

She wandered through the cell, trailing a hand over the table before moving on.

”The last time must have been that vision, no?”

”You still remember that?” I asked quietly.

She turned toward me. Her eyes were unusually dark, almost black, with small flecks of white drifting through them like snow.

”It won’t be long before they’re here.”

There was none of her usual teasing in her voice. I glanced toward the door.

”They?”

”The inquisitors. There are special wards around the Dusk Chambers. They’ll have noticed the moment we appeared.”

”Then we’ll have to fight them.”

”Not yet.” She shook her head. ”We’re no match for them in a direct fight. You can’t even use combat magic. And even if we won, we’d still have to find the barrier formation. Forcing our way through their fortifications would be suicide.”

”Then what are we doing here?” My tail twitched behind me. ”Why didn’t we bring more people? We could have come down with the others once they were ready. Why did you bring me here alone?”

”Oh, calm yourself.” She held up her hands. ”There’s more than one way to fight. Believe me, I’m just as determined to win this one as you are.”

”You have a plan?”

”One that requires you to trust me.” A small smile returned to her lips. ”If we play our cards right, they’ll lead us straight to the shard. Then we strike. I meant what I said before: I need you to dismantle the barrier. Leave the rest to me.”

”But the Grand Inquisitor—”

She tensed. Footsteps sounded beyond the door, hurried and heavy with the clank of armor. I stopped speaking, listening as they drew closer.

”I abandoned you,” Jessia said, looking directly at me. ”You’re lost and alone. Things didn’t go to plan.”

”Wait.” I reached toward her. ”What are you doing?”

Shadows curled around her forearm and slid between her fingers, forming Oblivion’s blade. I hated how readily it answered her, taking the shape of that long, curved shortsword.

”I’ll be in your shadow.”

She melted into the gloom before I could catch her hand.

I stood alone, listening to the footsteps and the shouts gathering in the corridor. The door was barred from outside. I searched the corners, the space beneath the table, even the shadow at my feet, but couldn’t find Jessia or her aura. Not even her scent remained.

”Jessia?” My throat tightened. ”Please tell me you’re there.”

Nothing answered.

”Come on, you fools! Search them all!”

Heavy doors slammed open down the corridor. The sound drew closer, accompanied by shouted orders and the cries of prisoners. I backed away until cold stone pressed against my shoulders.

My door crashed open.

Two inquisitors stood in the entrance, their white-and-gold armor gleaming, visors lowered. My wards flared around me as they raised their hands. Golden chains shot toward my wrists and shattered against the barrier.

Neither hesitated. They drew their swords and charged, filling the cell with light. I cried out, shielding my eyes as their blades scraped across my wards in showers of sparks. One struck again, close enough that I could see the dents along the edge of his gauntlet.

When they couldn’t penetrate the barrier, they withdrew toward the doorway, calling to the soldiers outside. A High Inquisitor entered behind them, his white robes trimmed in gold, a red sun emblazoned across his chest.

”Would you look at this?” His gaze traveled over me, lingering on my horns.

”The traitorous filth-blood herself,” one of the armored inquisitors said.

”And what might a rat like you be doing in our cellars?”

I said nothing. Jessia’s instructions ran through my mind. I was meant to pretend she’d abandoned me, to convince them something had gone wrong.

I didn’t need to pretend. My hands trembled, and my tail pressed against the wall, searching for room to curl out of sight. At my hip, the Aethereal Prism hummed unevenly, its light catching in the cracks across its core. I couldn’t steady it any more than I could steady myself.

”You’re surrounded,” the High Inquisitor said. ”I don’t know or care how you got here, but there’s no escape. You should remember that.”

His smile widened.

”This isn’t your first visit, is it? No, I remember you. Your screams were delightful. Don’t worry. We’ll hear them again.”

”Shouldn’t we kill her while we have the chance?” another inquisitor asked. ”The Pope’s orders—”

The High Inquisitor silenced him with a sharp gesture.

”Take her. Break her wards if you must. Use the anti-magic manacles. The Grand Inquisitor will want to see our prize.”

I tried to gather my thoughts, to find something I could cast, but every movement brought back another memory. White robes. Gauntleted hands. The scrape of a blade being lifted from the table.

Jessia was supposed to be here. She’d said she would be in my shadow. But I couldn’t feel her, and the inquisitors were already closing in. Had she planned this from the beginning? Had everything she’d done been meant to earn enough trust to deliver me into their hands?

One of them raised an amulet. A sphere of emptiness spread around it, swallowing the mana in its path. When it reached my wards, they vanished. They hadn’t shattered or been dispelled; their power simply ceased to function within its reach. Even the Aethereal Prism dimmed to a faint, uneven flicker.

It had to be an artifact. Nothing else could suppress that much power.

”Stop,” I whispered.

Rough hands seized my arms. Cold gauntlets dug into my flesh, and I stumbled as they dragged me toward the door. Fabric tore at my shoulder. I tried to keep my feet beneath me, crying out when one of them tightened his grip.

I looked back, searching for Jessia, for the smallest movement in the shadows. Inquisitors filled the doorway behind us.

Out in the corridor, heavy iron manacles were clamped around my wrists. Their field settled over me, suppressing my mana just as the amulet had. I stared at the metal, remembering its weight before I’d even tried to move.

The High Inquisitor stopped in front of me, standing a head and a half above my horns. He reached for my neck, and I flinched. His fingers caught the Soulbinder and lifted it from my chest.

”A dog to its vomit,” he said.

He let the ring fall, turned in a sweep of white robes, and led us deeper into the chambers.

The corridors were cold and white, one indistinguishable from the next. The inquisitors kept hold of me despite the manacles, pulling whenever I failed to match their pace. Doors passed on either side, some closed, others standing open after the search. I kept my eyes ahead.

At least my first fear had been wrong. The anti-magic suppressed the pressure of the Throne’s barrier along with the inheritance flowing into my soul. Neither could reach me within its field. I could still sense them beyond it, waiting, and I didn’t know which frightened me more: remaining bound or having the manacles removed.

Tears blurred the corridor. Only minutes ago, I’d been beside Luke. I’d told him I could do this, that I was willing to fight alongside Jessia. I had chosen to return.

Now iron closed around my wrists, and every laugh behind me made it harder to remember what I’d thought I could bear. I tried to listen for her voice, even while the thought of her watching from my shadow filled me with anger. She could have warned me. She could have given me more than a few words before leaving.

A shove sent me stumbling through a doorway into a chamber I’d never seen. I fell to my knees, scraping them against the stone. Pain shot up my legs, and I caught myself awkwardly with my bound hands.

When I looked up, I met the cold brown eyes of Grand Inquisitor Korvin.

Surprise crossed his face. He looked past me at the inquisitors crowding the entrance.

”What is this?” he asked sharply.

”The filth-blood,” the High Inquisitor replied. ”We caught her lurking at the edge of the chambers. No doubt searching for the barrier formation.”

”Is that so?”

Korvin looked down at me again. A smile slowly curved his lips, and he stepped aside, gesturing into the chamber.

”Then you’ll be glad to know you’ve found it, Xiviyah, defeated, broken one. Behold the formation you seek: the heart of the Divine Throne.”