The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 500: At the King’s Mercy

Chapter 500: At the King’s Mercy

My words lingered in the long silence that followed. Alveron was quiet, a slight frown creasing his lips, and Elise let out a half-sob.

"Why?" she asked, pleading at me with wet eyes, her voice breaking. "Why won’t you just trust him? We could be together again!"

Alverin sighed and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, drawing her close. "I’m sorry, my love," he said, his voice laced with regret, "but we tried our best. You know what I have to do now, don’t you?"

Her lower lip trembled, and she looked as though she might break down at any moment, but she nodded slowly. "Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "don’t make her hurt too much."

He nodded grimly and raised his arm, allowing Elise to step back towards the parapet. "I didn’t want to do this, Xiviyah," he said, his voice a low growl as he strode towards me. "I tried to be kind, to be gentle. I gave you every reason to accept my embrace peacefully. Don’t forget: it was you who forced my hand."

He drew the sword from the scabbard at his waist, raising it menacingly. The moment it left its sheath, I gasped, a tremor of fear running through me. The hilt was ornate gold, befitting a king, but it was the blade that chilled my blood. Long and slender, it shimmered with insubstantial wisps of coiling, black mana.

A familiar power emanated from the darkness, the same unsettling aura that clung to Jessia. Was this another surprise she had orchestrated? If so, there was no way my spells could protect me from this weapon.

"Don’t look so afraid, my dear," Alverin said, his voice a soothing purr as he stalked towards me. "I’m not going to kill you. Just make you a little more... receptive to my suggestions."

I backed away, my tail lashing in fear. His smile widened, and as he took another step, he blurred, moving with a speed that defied perception. Before I could react, he was upon me, his blade sliding through my wards as if they weren’t even there.

I screamed as the tip drove between my breasts, directly where the center of the slave crest had once been engraved on my flesh. There was no blood or even visible wound, nor did I feel the cold touch of steel. The sword was ghostly and insubstantial as a shadow–but the effects were all too real.

A searing pain ravaged my body as ribbons of black lightning arced from the blade, the same torturous energy as the slave crest’s punishment. It was a pain I hadn’t felt in over a year, the sparks tracing lines of fire across my skin. The agony intensified as the lightning crawled over the sunpurge, overwhelming my senses. I could hear someone screaming and distantly recognized it as my own voice, but it felt far away, detached from the torment wracking my body.

It wasn’t until several seconds after Alverin pulled away that I realized the sword had left my flesh. The black lightning arced from my chest for several more seconds before finally relinquishing its grip on me, and my senses began to return. I came to writhing on the ground, everything from my chest to the tip of my tail quivered from the pain.

Alverin stood over me, a pleasant smile gracing his lips. "Do you remember the joys?" he asked, leaning down so his breath caressed my pointed ear. "I’ll take great pleasure in reminding you of them."

I couldn’t take my eyes off his sword or the black lightning arcing around it. My wards had vanished, and my soul felt so distant that I doubted I could cast a spell if I tried. Above all, I trembled uncontrollably, my shoulders shaking as I tried to choke out a sob.

Alverin’s smirk widened, his hand playing across my jaw until he cupped my chin. "You should know you can’t escape me. The moment our reinforcements arrived, your fate was sealed."

I winced, a whimper escaping my lips as he twisted the sword in my side, sending another wave of agonizing pain through me. I gritted my teeth, barely clinging to consciousness. Slowly, painfully, I raised my head, meeting his surprised gaze.

"I write my own fate!"

With that desperate cry, I reached out and grasped the empty air. Stars exploded in my hand, and my fingers closed around my staff’s familiar, smooth hilt.

Alverin shouted something, but his words were lost on me. All that mattered was escaping the torment and ending this nightmare once and for all.

"Haven!" I gasped, pouring every ounce of my remaining strength and will into my staff.

A brilliant golden light erupted from the tip of my staff, washing over the cold stone floor of the tower. Instead of forming a vertical gateway, the swirling energy spread horizontally like a pool of liquid sunshine. Elise cried out in surprise, and Alverin, his face contorted with rage, stomped on my hand, a searing pain shooting up my arm as he knocked the staff away.

But it was too late. The gate was open, and all three of us were pulled into its swirling embrace, plummeting into the depths of Haven.

The tingling darkness of the gateway was a welcome respite, a cool balm against the agony radiating from my shattered hand and the ever-present burn of the sunpurge.

The teleportation ended abruptly, and I bit back a scream as the pain returned in full force. I clutched my mangled hand to my chest, writhing on the ground, whimpering. Numbness had replaced any sensation from my elbow onward, but hot blood splashed against my chest, soaking the tattered remnants of my dress.

The sunpurge reacted violently to the trauma, flaring to life and marching relentlessly across my skin. A tendril of the glowing scar snaked down my thigh, invading my knee. As I struggled to kneel, my leg buckled, and I collapsed into a heap.

"My lord, where are we?" Elise’s worried voice cut through the haze of pain.

"I don’t know," Alverin’s voice replied, a cautious edge to his tone.

A hand clamped around my horn, yanking me roughly off the ground. I managed to open my eyes a fraction, and through the blur of tears, I saw Alverin glaring down at me, his face contorted in a snarl. I wanted to struggle, to fight back, but my muscles were unresponsive, leaving me dangling limply in his grasp.

"You...Where are we? Where have you taken us?" he asked with none of the gentility from before.

I coughed weakly and tried to speak but ended up choking on a hot, metallic fluid.

"What is this place?" he tried again.

When I went limp, my strength exhausted, unable to even scream, his eyes narrowed. With an irritated grunt, he threw me to the ground, my body hitting the cold stone with a sickening thud. I curled into a fetal position, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Some kind of church?" Elise asked curiously. "But who’s that statue?"

"Fate," Alverin said shortly, voice troubled.

Elise gasped. "You mean the fallen goddess? But Verity said she was dead and gone!"

"Is it a surprise a statue remains?

"But it’s so real!"

It took everything I had to gather my scattered thoughts and decipher what Elise and Alverin were saying. But as the meaning of their words sank in, I shuddered, and this time, it wasn’t from the pain. We were in the Cathedral of Fate. That was bad. Very, very bad.

I struggled to my knees, crying out as the rough stone floor scraped against my raw skin. I tried to warn them, to beg them to flee but only managed to cough up more blood.

"What is it?" Alverin asked, noticing my struggle. When I continued to sputter, blood staining my lips, he shook his head dismissively. "Never mind that. Take us back, and I’ll have one of our mages heal your wounds. They might even be able to save your hand."

I couldn’t bear to look at my mangled wrist, a grim reminder of Alverin’s cruelty. Instead, my gaze was drawn to the cathedral, a sense of foreboding washing over me. It was the same as before, yet different. The stars that had once glittered in the sky above were now distant pinpricks, barely visible through the oppressive gloom. Shadows danced in my peripheral vision, lurking behind the statues and in the darkened doorways. The feeling of being watched made my skin crawl.

"Something’s there," Elise whispered, pointing towards the statue of Fate.

Alverin grabbed me by the horn, yanking me roughly off the ground, his sword pressed against my throat. "Show yourself," he snarled, "unless you want to see your precious Oracle gutted like a fish."

Black energy hissed along the edge of the blade, licking at my skin, and I whimpered.

Atop the statue, a shadowy figure materialized. It was the same Remnant from before, the one that had nearly killed Fable and me. Its form was detailed and exact, though entirely devoid of depth and color, as black as the midnight sky.

The remnant was silent, observing our strange trio, then drew its sword.

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