The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 225: Free

Chapter 225: Free

The cavern was silent save for the muted whimpers of the chained Beastkin. The Glory Chasers spread out warily, taking a rough formation around the black-cloaked demonkin. The darkness beyond the sphere of light felt endless and oppressive, pressing in on us from all directions. Even my Demonkin eyes couldn’t pierce far enough through the darkness to make out the walls, or the source of the crying. Just how massive was this cavern?

"Who are you?" Sorrin asked, his eyes never leaving the demonkin.

The demonkin smiled and spread his arms wide. "Your future, slave. But in more certain terms, I am but a lowly servant of the Circle of Chains. You may call me Vithrass until the time comes that ’Master’ is more suitable."

His eyes raked over our party, coming to rest on me. I took an unconscious step back, terrified of the future I saw reflected in his glowing irises. There were chains, cages, and whips, as well as broken cries of suffering. I had seen eyes like those before in Lord Byron, and now the very thought of his name made me want to curl up and cry.

The demonkin took a long, deep breath, as though he were smelling a flower. His long, pointed tongue slipped between his pointed teeth, slowly licking his lips. "I see one of you has tasted the Joys before. Lord Byron, if I’m not mistaken? Truly a marvel among men, that one. Pity he was taken from us."

My chest tightened, painfully limiting my breath. A violent tremor tore through my body, and I stumbled back until I collided with the wall. The cold, unrelenting touch of steel bit into my wrists and neck, and fiery lashes pricked up and down my back.

"Starlight?" Tana asked, taking a step toward me. "What is he talking about? Who’s this Byron?"

"M-master," I stammered instinctively, clutching my staff before me. "But h-how?"

Vithrass strode confidently forward, only stopping as Sorrin and Dyson raised their blades in warning. "All great masters have a distinct mark, visible only to the trained eye. it’s in your stance, your eyes, and even your soul. The Joys are branded on you, and no matter how you run, you cannot escape. It will be a pleasure to remind you of them."

"Not another word," Dyson said, "Whatever you’re doing to her, stop it."

The demonkin’s pleasant countenance twisted into a snarl. "I don’t take orders from slaves."

He raised a hand to the hilt of his weapon and slowly drew it from its sheath. The blade made a horrible rasping sound as it tore free of leather, and glowed with a black light so dark it was visible only through the warping of the air around it. Vithrass’ aura exploded outward, threatening to sweep us off our feet.

"Fifth!" Tana gasped, hand tightening nervously around her pendant.

Vithrass kicked off the ground, his blade whistling toward the Sorrin’s neck. The Wolfkin’s eyes narrowed, and he raised his blade, bracing it against the attack.

The clash rang through the cavern, followed closely by the shockwave of the collision. Sorrin grunted and fell to one knee, crushed by the weight of the blow. Dyson darted forward, swinging toward the exposed Demonkin’s flank, but Vithrass’ sword was already there, deftly intercepting the twin-bladed strike.

Sorrin leaped forward, sword splitting the air with a fourth-level magical technique. Fires licked up the blade, collecting at the tip. The moment Vithrass moved to parry, they exploded, obscuring the fight in a burst of flame and smoke.

Tana didn’t wait for the cloud to disperse, using the time to chant a third-circle spell. "Lightning Strike!"

Several arcs of lightning blasted through the smoke, clearing the air in their wake. As though they’d practiced it countless times, Dyson and Sorrin leaped aside in the nick of time, cleanly avoiding the lightning.

Vithrass wasn’t so lucky, and groaned as the spell caught him unawares, dancing across his body with deadly force. For a split second, the lightning lit up the cavern, exposing the walls and ceiling hundreds of feet apart. Almost a dozen walled cells with bars for doors were built into a wide alcove on the far side. Nearly half of them had occupants, though the light faded before I discerned anything further.

Even as electricity crawled over the Vithrass’ body, several arrows whistled through the air, burying themselves in his shoulder. Vines sprouted from the shafts, curling around the demonkin’s arms and hampering his movement. Dyson appeared behind him, slashing down at his neck, but he managed to roll out of the way in time, receiving only light cuts on his back instead.

"Enough!" Vithrass cried. A powerful shockwave swept out of his sword, blasting the Glory Chasers back. His eyes glowed with menacing rage, and he tore the arrows from his shoulder. Blood spurted through the air, but he took no notice, taking his sword in both hands and plunging it into the ground.

Immediately, the light went out, plunging us into a darkness so thick it wrapped around me like chains. Jagged cracks ripped through the ground, radiating away from the sword in the stone. The earth trembled as they widened, and a faintly glowing purple miasma spilled from the rupture.

Dark tendrils rose from the crevasses, unfurling high into the air before shooting forward. I tried to run, to struggle, but the tentacles caught me up with little effort. They curled tightly about my limbs, throat, and torso, even wriggling down my throat and choking out my screams. I thrashed helplessly in their grip, tears streaming from my eyes, as one rasped over the Sunpurge, filling my veins with fire.

Terror seized my muscles, clamping down on my lungs and forcing my heart to beat so quickly it hurt. The tentacles slithered all over my body, grabbing and squeezing in a manner that made it feel as though my entire was being groped. My feet dangled several feet off the ground, and tendrils bound my wrists so tightly it made holding my staff impossible.

The others fared no better. It wasn’t that the tentacles were particularly fast, but the thick darkness of the spell blinded the adventurers, preventing them from even seeing their assailants. One by one, they were caught up as I, until only Rasce, the farthest from the battle and outside the range of the spell, was free.

"How does it feel?" Vithrass cooed, slipping between the struggling adventurers, coming to a rest before me. "The Chains of Shadows, a spell of my own making. There’s no point in struggling, I designed it specifically to capture powerful adventurers like you. It offers wonderful entertainment in other settings as well, which I expect you’ll soon experience."

I struggled and tried to scream through the thick shadows as he reached out his hand and stroked my cheek, seeming to relish in the hot trickling tears that wet his fingers. He laughed and withdrew his hand, slowly drawing his long, serpentine tongue over his fingers, lapping up my tears.

"I look forward to turning those screams into moans," he whispered in my ear. The shadowy coils tightened, squeezing and groping in such a way his intentions were made crystal clear.

Vithrass laughed at my struggles and stepped back, turning to face Rasce. "But before we get any further, shall we clean up the filth?"

Rasce’s hands tightened on his bow as the sound of the demonkin’s voice floated through the air, but the subtle illumination of the miasma was far from enough for him to make anything out. Vithrass lifted his sword and nonchalantly walked toward Rasce, soundlessly swishing his blade through the darkness.

I was powerless, essentially paralyzed by fear. How had it come to this? Despite everything I had done and all the pain I suffered, it was the same. The cold ring of steel reverberated through my mind, the brand of the slave crest hot against my chest. I couldn’t bear it, not again. But it was inevitable. I was alone now, with no one to turn to.

The sound of muffled grunts and groans struck me, and I forced my eyes open to slits. The other members of the Glory Chasers struggled against the shadows, their eyes filled with grim resolution. Why were they fighting? What could we possibly do against something like this?

A glimmer of starlight caught my eye, and I found the staff floating just beyond my grip, right where I’d dropped it. The shadowy tendrils gagged us, preventing us from communicating or chanting spells, a tactic effective against nearly every mage in the world. If I could just reach my staff, I might be able to...

My fingers were stiff, refusing to obey my command. The tentacles allowed more than enough freedom, but I felt bound by chains far stronger than any steel. To fight would be to hope, and hope led to pain. I knew that. So why did I keep hurting myself? Why couldn’t I just surrender?

"To think you almost had me, too. Underestimating you is a mistake I won’t make again," Vithrass remarked, arriving before Rasce. "But now you’re in my domain. Alone and afraid, cut off from your precious friends. How sweet of you to offer up your miserable life, human."

He emphasized his final word with a sneer and swiped at Rasce’s neck with his sword in the same casual attitude as one did when swatting a fly. His sword, while not swung with much force, carried the weight of its enchantments and seemed to cut the very darkness itself. Rasce fell back, sensing the sudden burst of killing intent, but evading the attack was impossible.

Moments before the sword tore through his neck, it came to an abrupt halt. Vithrass paused, staring dumbly at the ranger in disbelief. Or, more accurately, staring at the shimmering golden aura surrounding him. The barrier that let out just enough light to expose his vulnerable pose, with his sword extended against the Aegis.

Rasce reacted on instinct, neither questioning the abrupt appearance of the magic nor the Demonkin and fired his bow. Vithrass screamed as the arrow tore through his black robes and punched through his stomach. The arrowhead poked out of the back of his cloak, followed by a swift trickle of blood.

Clutching at his stomach, Vithrass backed away, whirling about just in time to face a very angry Sorrin. The Wolfkin’s strike, meant to take his head, glanced off his horn, shearing it off in the process. Like Rasce, he was surrounded by a glowing Aegis, the power of which kept the dark tentacles at bay.

As another Aegis sprung up around Tana, she dropped to the floor, already reaching for her amulet. Vithrass, who was in the middle of a feverish exchange of blows, barely had time to notice her low, murmured chant before lightning filled the air. He screamed and dropped to one knee, smoke curling from his scorched skin, his black cloak in tatters about him. Dyson flashed behind him, and one of his arms dropped to the ground with a thud, though the demonkin was now too numb to notice.

The tentacles binding my body strained as a final Aegis pushed out of my soul, forcing them away. I slipped between the shadowy coils, landing heavily on the ground and falling immediately to my knees. The strain of casting so many spells at once was nearly overwhelming, and I fought to catch my breath. Dark dots scattered across my gaze, and I swooned, hovering between the realms of consciousness and unconsciousness.

"I-impossible. You’re just slaves. Slaves!" Vithrass babbled, eyes rolling wildly.

I raised my head wearily, hand wrapped tightly around my staff. The glassy, crystalline shaft that had felt so distant was real in my hand, glowing with a light matching the conviction in my heart. Faint embers of hope flickered in my soul, rekindled from the barren ashes of a fire quenched long ago.

"No more," I whispered fiercely. "Never again. I’m free."

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