The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 211: Westfall Village

Chapter 211: Westfall Village

Tana’s offer to see the village took me by surprise. I glanced down at my leg, tracing the fine, white scars before nodding. Helron shot Tana and Sorrin a wink and dragged Bilev away, hustling the protesting innkeeper down the stairs.

Taking a deep breath, I swung my legs over the bed and paused, my bare feet an inch from the floor. Tana nudged Sorrin, who grunted and rolled his eyes.

"Want a hand?" he asked.

I stared at his offered hand, finding it coated in dozens of fine white scars and thick callouses. Soltair had a hand like that, as did the other heroes and soldiers I fought beside, one that had seen battle time and time again.

Seeing my hesitation, Tana slapped his hand away. "Just take your time."

"Just make up your mind, elf," Sorrin grumbled, striding over to the door.

"Half-elf," she corrected automatically, as though giving a practiced response.

"Whatever. I’ll be downstairs."

She turned back to me, all smiles, as he slipped outside. Before she could say more, I pushed myself to my feet, gingerly testing my leg. A pulsing, dull ache spread through my leg with every heartbeat, but it seemed sturdy enough. At least, until I took a step.

The moment my weight came down on my leg, a blinding line of fire shot up through the nerves, and my knee buckled. Instinctively, I threw out my hand, grasping at empty air. Tana leaped forward, arms extended toward me, but froze, her eyes growing wide in disbelief as a storm of stars swirled around me.

I realized too late what was happening. Heeding my instinctive call, my staff materialized in my hand, seeming to position itself just right to help me regain my balance. The sleek, glass-like crystal haft was warm to the touch, and the six-point star crowning the work pulsed with the comforting radiance of starlight. At that moment, the staff’s true name entered my mind, appearing as a subtle thought on the edges of my subconsciousness—the Staff of Fate, the Final Star.

Tana’s mouth dropped open as the cloud of stars dissipated and her eyes fell on the staff. "What just happened? Where did you get that?"

For a moment, I was before Lord Byron, who had uttered those same words just days before. I clutched the staff to my chest, backing away, my eyes wide. "It’s mine," I whispered. It was all I left of her, and no one could take it from me.

Fate’s divinity had long since left it behind, but some traces of her presence remained, resonating with my fear. For the briefest moment, mana stirred in the depths of the star, flowing through our bond and into my soul.

I gasped, nearly tripping once more, as my slumbering soul awakened. It had been dormant ever since I was freed, deep in the process of recovering, but now, for the first time, I felt a weak thread of mana cycle through my soul. It wasn’t much, barely enough for a first-circle spell, but I nearly broke down and wept as the familiar warmth coursed through me. It had been so very long since the Slave Crest sealed away my power, and even longer since I’d been able to direct it without fear of repercussion.

"Hey, it’s alright. I’m not going to take it. I just wondered where it came from, is all." Tana’s soft, soothing tones and upraised hands brought me back to the inn. "It’s beautiful, though. Would you mind telling me where it came from so I can explain it to the others?"

"I don’t know," I murmured, lovingly stroking the smooth, fluted shaft. "I just called, and it answered."

That was technically true. It had been hiding somewhere, as dormant as my soul, only now appearing. I’d reached out instinctively, and it appeared, returning as though it had never left.

"Is it dangerous?"

I shook my head, lovingly caressing the smooth, fluted shaft. It held many powerful enchantments and blessings, but of the ones I’d discovered, none were intrinsically dangerous. Even if they were, I doubted I’d be able to use them, as the Sun God’s curse continued to hold power over me.

Tana’s ears twitched, but she bit her lip, holding in whatever she’d been about to say. After a second, she let out a pent-up breath, her shoulders falling slack. "If you can’t remember, then there’s no point in wondering about it too much. Shall we join the others? No matter how he looks, Sorrin is pretty excited to meet you. After all, it’s not every day you meet a demonkin."

The Inn Commons was relatively empty. It was a cozy, homely place with a roaring fire and poor ventilation. The benches bristled with splinters, and the tables had more than a few suspicious stains. Bilev stood behind the counter, idly polishing a mug. His eyes fixated on my staff for a moment before he glanced at Tana. As the two began a fast-paced exchange in the other language, Sorrin, who had been lounging at a table, got to his feet and approached.

"What’s with the staff?" he asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Is it stolen? Is this why you were running away in the middle of nowhere?"

Tana paused her conversation just long enough to shoot him a glare and slapped his shoulder. He rolled his eyes at her, but she’d already turned away again.

He looked back at me and coughed, shifting awkwardly on his feet. "Not that I care," he finally muttered. "I was just wondering if you were a mage."

I wasn’t entirely sure how much to reveal. Stories of a red-haired demonkin mage at the cusp of adulthood might draw undue attention, especially if it were known she carried a suspiciously expensive staff. But at the same time, there was no hiding it at this point, so I decided to go with the story Tana unwittingly came up with.

"I-I think so" I stammered, staring at the ground.

"You think so? What, can’t remember anything?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I’m sorry," I whispered, "It’s all so blurry."

That wasn’t technically a lie. Much of my memory was hazy, sealed away by my subconsciousness. There was so much pain and darkness it was just easier to forget it all. Not that I truly could, in the end, as it constantly seeped into my thoughts and dreams.

He blinked, surprised by my response. "Do you remember anything? Like where you’re from, or why you’re here?"

I shook my head, letting my tail droop just enough to convey my dismay. "T-there was a bright light, and then I was in the forest."

"And then you walked all the way here? In your condition?" He asked, voice raised in disbelief.

I flinched at the sudden rise in volume, taking a step back.

"Alright, Sorrin, that’s enough for now. We can talk later, but first, we’re going to see the village," Tana said, finally wrapping up with the innkeeper.

She grasped my hand, and, before I could protest, pulled me away from the Wolfkin. Sorrin snorted and followed, somehow arriving ahead at the entrance first and holding open the door.

Westfall Village was a quiet, quant settlement, a sharp contrast to the bustling cities I’d left behind. It was larger than a simple farming village like the one where we’d fought the basilisk, but removed from the subdued grandeur of smaller towns like High Valley. Cottages dotted the cobblestone streets, smoke curling lazily from chimneys, and livestock grazed in fenced pastures. On the outer perimeter, large swathes of farmland appeared between the ancient boughs of the forest, the farmers sowing seeds upon the freshly plowed fields.

The village grew denser as we traveled inward, with more and more houses and fewer trees. I stopped counting after a dozen, but there seemed to be several hundred cottages. The architecture was modest, yet homely, relying mostly on wooden planks and tile-like shingles. A slow, quiet river crossed through one edge of the town, perhaps twenty feet wide and barely a few feet deep. Children played in its gentle current, pants and dresses tied up around their thighs, laughing and splashing each other while their mothers worked in gardens or beat the winter’s mud from their rugs.

There was a warm, welcoming atmosphere, with lively faces everywhere I turned. Even as people took note of my appearance, they regarded me with guarded curiosity, with only the oldest, most traditional villagers holding anything resembling hostility.

Ignoring the chiding of his mother, a young boy ran up to us and stared up at me with wide eyes. "Who’re you?"

It took me a moment before I realized I understood him. I understood all of them, from the hushed whispers of the adults in the gardens to children’s gossip in the river. I took a quick breath, my tail twitching nervously as I tried to decipher what language they were speaking.

"She doesn’t understand you," Sorrin said, squatting down to ruffle the kid’s hair.

"Ah, really? Her eyes are weird. Is she from somewhere far away?"

Sorrin hesitated, casting a helpless glance at Tana, but she only shrugged. "Maybe," he finally said, ears twitching, "We’re not quite sure yet. But you be sure to treat her well while she’s here, understand? Otherwise, I won’t be able to teach you how to be an adventurer anymore."

The boy froze, as did the rest of the children who gathered around us. "N-nice to meet you!" he stammered quickly, sticking his hand toward me. "I’m Sam, and I’d be happy to show you around! We’re all going to-"

His words warbled off as the moment of understanding passed. I looked at his hand for a moment and my hands tightened on my staff. Tana seemed to understand and stepped forward, shooing them away.

Sorrin folded his arms and stared at me, eyes unusually stern. "They’re just children, uh..." he trailed off and rubbed his head, sharing a glance with Tana.

Tana gasped, hand flying to her mouth. "Ah, I’m so sorry! We introduced ourselves, but never even bothered to ask your name. What should we call you?"

Xiviyah. The name came to the tip of my tongue, but clung there like viscous honey, refusing to come out. My name before this world was Rachel, given casually by an uncaring mother in a cruel world. Xiviyah was a gift from the Pope, a token of my status and a symbol of my oppression. Yet, as dark and twisted as its origins were, I held it like a blanket, finding comfort in the familiar name. Perhaps one day, when I had healed and could stand against whatever the heavens thought to throw at me, I would take it again, a symbol that I was not as broken as they thought.

But for now, it would only draw undue attention. The name matched with my description would bring inquisitors upon my head like a swarm of insects. There was but one name left to me, given in the shadows that lingered in my heart, the distant memory of one who traded their life for mine.

Interpreting my silence for reluctance, Tana smiled her gentle, kind-hearted smile. "It’s alright if you don’t want to tell us. We’re here to help, though, so you can trust us. All we want is to-"

"Starlight," I whispered. Ignoring my anxious fears, I forced myself to raise my eyes and meet her gaze for the first time. "She called me Starlight."

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