The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 140: Worse than an Inquisitor

Chapter 140: Worse than an Inquisitor

Following the duel, I swiftly left the arena, desperate to escape the public’s attention. But even before I departed the waiting room, students filled the streets, alight with discussion and gossip surrounding our match. The instant I appeared on the street, several students noticed me and swarmed about, drawing the attention of others.

"What kind of wind spell did you use to thrash Prince Eric?"

"Would you demonstrate your Dispel Magic? I was so close to understanding, and I think seeing it once more would..."

"How long have you been studying magic?"

"What’s your relationship with the Sun Hero?"

"What did Prince Eric mean by ’dragged out of a cage?’ Has your slavery been more than symbolic?"

"Are you dating anyone?"

The questions became increasingly personal, each inquiry feeling like a probing needle, pricking at my skin until my ears burned with embarrassment. Fyren, noticing my discomfort, attempted to usher the eager students away, but his efforts fell on deaf ears. It was only when he unleashed the full extent of his aura that the streets fell quiet.

"Thanks," I muttered, still flushed with embarrassment.

Fyren nodded and offered his hand, helping me step over the jumbled bodies of the paralyzed students. Those who remained standing gave us plenty of space. Having witnessed our strength in the duel, none were willing to risk seriously offending us.

"How does he deal with it?" I asked, imagining Soltair proudly waving to the masses.

"A bit envious, are we?" Fyren teased with a chuckle. "I suppose it’s one of his many talents. But don’t worry; you possess your own unique abilities."

Glancing back at the students, who were slowly regaining their composure, I sighed. "Just not dealing with people."

Fortunately for us, the library was nearly empty, its usual occupants still tied up at the arena. Judging by the sheer size of the crowds, it might be several hours before anyone got to where they were supposed to be.

Fyren stepped through the magical membrane first, but as I moved to follow, a middle-aged librarian tilted her head and bowed slightly.

"Welcome, hero."

They didn’t look familiar, so I simply nodded in gratitude and continued walking, but they held up a hand, stopping me.

"Quite a magnificent display of magic," she said, peering at me closely.

The librarian wore brown robes much darker than those of Thron or the others at the Divine Throne. She wore her hair in a neat, gray bun, and wore an assortment of rings. As I examined the rings, I took a sharp breath. Each one possessed multiple high-level enchantments, including one that pressed the threshold of seventh-circle.

I stepped back, scanning the woman carefully. Her soul blazed with power, nearing the levels of the Archivist or Pope, who stood at the peak of the world. I took an instinctive step back, adopting a more respective posture.

"Forgive me for not recognizing you," I said, giving a slight curtsey. "Have we met before?"

Her eyes twinkled with mirth and she placed her hands on her hips. "My, my, you’re every bit as respectful as I’ve been led to believe. Nothing like that arrogant child who came here before."

"Connor?" I ventured.

She nodded. "Probably, although his name was hardly worth remembering. Xiviyah, on the other hand... what a sweet name."

I looked up at her, filled with a growing unease. Few had the qualifications to treat a hero so dismissively, and none worked as a mere librarian. Could she have come to ask about my staff? A bead of sweat trickled down my neck, and I lowered my eyes respectfully.

"Is there something you need from me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

My heart leaped as she frowned, but I relaxed as she explained herself. "There’s no need to be frightened, child. I’m the Master Librarian at the Western University, so it’s only natural I appear to welcome one as esteemed as yourself. You may call me Slivera."

"I hardly think I merit the presence of someone of your stature," I replied, gathering the courage to look her in the eye. "But I am grateful for your kind words. If you’ll excuse me, my time is short." I curtseyed again and moved to pass her when her voice stopped me in my tracks.

"You won’t find what you’re looking for." Her eyes glimmered with amusement, her lips curved in a slight smile. It was irritating, almost, like she held all the cards at the table.

I turned and studied her face. Her confidence must be a facade. Nothing could move a ninth-level soul to action unless there was something to be gained.

"And what am I looking for?" I asked carefully.

She chuckled a girlish giggle that did little to match her aged appearance. "If you truly wished to remain secretive, I suggest avoiding such a public stage. Did you believe your actions would be perceived as coincidence?"

"I’m sorry?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"I find it ironic a slave is the one to break a curse passed down a hundred generations. Even I was born after the Sun God struck the Ornth family. Perhaps only that ancient relic of a man remembers the occasion, at this point."

"You mean Elise? She was cursed by Sun?" My soul stirred with recognition, convincing me even before she nodded. Had that been the source of our resonance? Had Fate truly brought us together?

"I would add that much greater than you have tried and failed, so I ask you: what reason might a slave have for possessing such knowledge and power to break so great a curse?"

Chills raced down my spine, tingling to the tip of my tail. "I’m not sure what you’re getting at."

Slivera’s eyes narrowed. "Do you think me a fool? What slave is there that does not yearn for freedom? The Divine Throne grows suspicious, child. They will not withhold their judgment for long."

I took a shallow breath, suppressing my desperation. "What do you want? Did he send you?"

She smiled reassuringly, but it brought me no comfort. "Not yet, although I was informed of your arrival. Instructed, rather, to bring you to the Shard of Omniscience. But before we are forced to accept any troublesome conclusions, I have several matters I wish to discuss. It’s not like they provided a timetable or anything."

My fears of an inquisitor felt incomparably small and naive, eclipsed by the chosen messenger of the church. How could anyone compete with a ninth-level being? She could disable me with her aura alone, and my strongest magic would be as paper before her spells.

No, things weren’t hopeless yet. Slivera’s loyalties to the church seemed loose, at best. Her mention of a timetable seemed petty, and her tone failed to elicit anything more than casual interest. Unlike the ninth-level souls of the Divine Throne, she didn’t seem particularly bound to their cause and beliefs. Perhaps, if I were obedient, I could stall a little while longer.

I steadied my nerves and met her gaze. "What would you like to discuss?"

"I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding. Now, run along. I have a few matters to attend to, but I’ll be sure to find you at some point." She waved flippantly, and strode away, leaving the library entirely.

I watched her retreating figure, my mouth slightly agape. After all that, she simply walked away? Didn’t she fear I might escape? No, I realized, she could find me no matter how far I fled.

"Xiviyah?" Fyren’s voice brought me back to reality as I passed through the gate. "Is everything alright? You took quite a while. I was about to come and check on you."

I hesitated, debating how much I should reveal. Until this point, he should be entirely unaware of my plight and abilities. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him, but I was reluctant to burden him with my troubles.

But Fyren’s worry and dedication touched my heart, strengthening my resolve. If anyone deserved the truth, it was him. How could I leave an ally in the dark about what my enemies considered common knowledge?

Shifting nervously on my feet, I plucked at the hem of my sleeve. "Fyren, there’s something I need to talk to you about."