The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 256: The Truth

Chapter 256: The Truth

Shadows gathered from the corners of the alley, drawing together into a tight cloak about the man’s shoulders, draping down in wispy tendrils that curled about our legs. The summer sun darkened, growing distant and cold, the very air itself holding its breath.

"You’re as beautiful as they say," the man murmured, eyes running over my body, lingering particularly on my gentle curves.

I shivered, drawing my cloak tight about me, letting out a soft whimper as the fabric dragged over the lacerations in my flesh. Most of my wounds had scabbed over, leaving my raw flesh sticky with dried blood.

"Who are you?" I asked, eyeing him warily. Although he had helped me, no one with pure intent would so blatantly leer at someone so weak and hurt.

Finally tearing his eyes off my body, he met my eyes and pondered the question. I fidgeted, gripping the hem of my cloak, afraid he wouldn’t answer, until finally, he opened his mouth.

"Alverin Truthsworn, the First Link of the Chain and Lord of the Circle."

He stated it with such flagrance, his tone so casual, that I found myself nodding before his words fully registered. Once they had, I stiffened so fast my tail struck the wall, a rush of adrenaline and fear pumping through my system.

"Oh, as much as I love seeing you squirm, I’m afraid I’m not in a position to threaten you," he said, spreading his arms wide. "See?"

I hesitated, taking a closer look at him. A second later, I relaxed, though I still kept my staff close at hand. As he said, he bore no soul. His body was made up of countless runes and threads of mana, nothing more than a complex illusion. The detail and realism of the spell were without equal, so uncannily accurate that without the Eyes of Fate, or a similar ability, it would be impossible to determine he wasn’t real.

I had witnessed such a spell once before, though at the time I’d seen through it immediately. Luke, the self-proclaimed "Apostle of the Descent" had visited me with it within the bowels of the Ice Gate. Were the two connected somehow? Did the Circle of Chains consort with the demons as well as the inquisitors?

Before I could further that line of thought, Alverin smiled, his arms falling back to his sides. "He was right, you know. Truly remarkable, a demonkin in every way. Though the law of the first encounter makes you his, it would be a shame to leave such beauty and potential in the hands of such a weak-minded demonkin."

"I am no one’s," I said, my eyes darkening. "Nor will I be. Not again."

He smiled kindly, like a grandfather to a small, rebellious child. "Of course you are. It is your purpose, your destiny. It has taken me this long to see what Byron saw in you at once. A pity about that man," he murmured, stroking his chin, "Even in my long service to the circle, there have been as few as dedicated and capable of spreading the Joys. But even so, I will finish what he started. You will be mine."

He said it with such certainty I felt compelled to believe it, the realization of which sent an awful tremor through my body. "N-No!" I gasped, pressing a hand to my pounding heart. "It’s not true. I won’t be bound again!"

"Oh no, child, no one’s going to be ’binding’ or forcing you into anything. I am called Truthsworn because I believe in the liberating power of truth. To lie is to destroy, to build unstable foundations. There is satisfaction, gratification even, in such deception, but the full ennobling power of the Joys is only found in truth."

"You’re insane!" I whispered, staring at him, my stomach churning at the sentiments.

"Perhaps, but my experience has validated my beliefs. You need me, Xiviyah, you need me."

The sound of my name drove a spike through my heart, the final confirmation of my growing suspicions. Helron had seen inquisitors in the City Lord’s mansion just before being cursed, the foundation of which came from the awful experimentation and torture I was subjected to at the Divine Throne. The Circle of Chains and the church were confederate, cooperating to perfect the Soul Crest.

I had felt confident in that conclusion, but the moment he uttered my name, everything became real. They knew who I was, and where I was, and nothing would stop them from coming to claim me.

I gripped my staff tightly, my tail switching anxiously. "You’re with them. Why did you help me?"

For the first time, Alverin’s ordinary, calm mast cracked, the beginnings of a snarl casting a twisted shadow over his face. "They think to commit the greatest sin, to destroy the balance of the truth. How can I claim that which is dead? To tarnish such a flawless slave..." he drifted off, hand reaching to touch my cheek, a glazed look in his eye. "Such things cannot be sustained or forgiven. Had they not committed so grave a crime, I might have pitied the woman. She destroyed herself to catch you, but I protected you."

"I don’t need your protection," I said, stepping away from his touch, letting him grope empty air. "I would rather die than trust a monster like you."

"Trust?" He raised an eyebrow, his lip curling up mockingly. "You? Trust? Who could you possibly trust?"

I flinched, unable to meet his gaze. "I...I trust my friends."

"Ah, Xiviyah, how naive. You must only trust the truth, for in it you find freedom. And what is the truth about these friends you trust? Who, to you, are they really?"

"I...I don’t understand," I whispered.

"Of course you don’t. You don’t see the truth because you do not look. But worry not, I shall dispel the lies they have bound you with."

He took a step toward me, hands folded imperiously behind his back. Despite knowing he was an illusion, and thus unable to hurt me, I found myself taking an anxious step back.

After ensuring I was listening, he said, "The Glory Chasers have never been your friends. They have used you for your power, manipulating your tender, wounded heart for their gain. Have you not seen how they treat you? The intentional softening of their voices, the flattery and praise whenever they seek to borrow your power? Ever notice how the half-elf snaps at everyone? Everyone but you?"

"No, Tana would never-"

"How much have you taught her? And what have you received in return? She has used your knowledge and experience time and time again, even breaking through to fourth level, yet she always returns for more. And what of Dyson? He claims to want to protect you, but isn’t it he who has pursued you the most? Do you think his ’innocent’ advances and flirtations are mere jokes? He desires you the same as any man would upon witnessing your beauty. And how often must you witness their distrust of you before you believe it? They’ve openly discussed your mysterious background and inexplicable powers, voicing clearly their suspicions. I find it ironic, really. You strive so desperately to attain their love and trust, and yet it is the very thing you withhold from them. It’s no wonder they can’t trust you, not when you refuse to be trusted."

I swayed unsteadily on my feet, his words washing over me like fetid swamp water, filling my mind and soul with darkness. No matter how earnestly I tried to deny it, there was truth in his words. How many times had Rasce objected to me, to the unknown dangers I brought to them? Even forgetting the many times I taught Tana magic, I’d long dismissed her habit of comforting me whenever one of the others said something that upset me. She made deliberate, conscious efforts to placate me, becoming the one I turned to for support in all my thoughts. Of course I’d found it suspicious but had pushed the thoughts away, just grateful for someone to embrace.

"The truth hurts, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Everyone shall fail you, everyone but me. I won’t ever lie to or hurt you like they do. I am steadfast and reliable, capable of giving you more purpose and meaning than you’ve ever desired. I can be your truth," Alverin murmured.

His voice caressed the wounds it’d torn open just sentences before, slipping through the darkness like feathery roots, clinging to my insecurities. He promised peace, something my tumultuous soul yearned for above all else. At least as a slave I didn’t have to question my master, fear he would betray me. The hurt in my heart was infinitely greater than any lash of the whip or punishment of the slave crest.

"No..." I whispered, forcing the seductive whisperings out of my head. "It’s not true. They love me and care for me. Tana took me shopping, and Dyson protected me when I got scared and ran off. Sorrin fought the shadow golems to keep me safe, and Rasce stood in front of me in the warehouse. Why would they do all that, suffer so much pain and injury, if they didn’t care for me?"

He shrugged, looking entirely unconcerned. "Who can say? Perhaps you’ve misinterpreted the situation, or it was simply the price they were willing to pay to abuse your power. The truth does not lie, something you will see soon for yourself. Don’t you find it odd that Sorrin sent you, alone, to retrieve something so important to him and Tana? I wonder what they might be talking about right now?"

"No, they wouldn’t do something like that. It was just an important meeting, and-"

"You do not see because you don’t open your eyes," he repeated, shaking his head in disappointment. "Go to them, and open your eyes. But know that, no matter what you find, Vithrass is waiting for you. His lair is beneath the Lord’s Mansion, but don’t go running to him now. Rest and recover, and struck on the morrow. I’m confident you shall be able to win."

"Why should I believe you? Aren’t you just leading me into a trap?"

"I want him dead as much as you do, for only then will you belong to me" Alverin replied openly. "But you don’t have much of a choice. I’ve recently received word of a rather successful raid on Westfall Village. Something about acquiring a young foxkin with an extremely rare ability. I wonder how Vithrass plans on teaching her the joys?"

He threw back his head and laughed, his body beginning to dissipate. I watched him, frozen on the spot, his words running through my head again and again. A crippling dread seized my heart, my chest tightening with fear. Sari. They had Sari.

"One last thing," Alverin said, his body mostly gone. "Might your ’friends’ be discussing this, perhaps?"

Though consumed by panic, I followed the fading vestige of his finger, my eyes locking on to a paper posted on the corner of the alley. It was new and white, lacking any sort of damage by the elements. On it, there was a magically printed portrait of the face of a young demonkin girl with gold eyes and crimson hair.

Below it, a single, bolded name. My name. "Xiviyah, Fallen Hero."

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