The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 59: Kneel

Chapter 59: Kneel

The temperature plummeted at Connor’s question, and I squirmed in my seat. I looked anxiously at Soltair, but he seemed at a loss for words.

"I, uh, yes," I stammered, dropping my head into my hands. The faces of the young priests sprang to my mind, forever burned into my memory.

"See?" Ronin said, resting his hands on the table. "What else do I need to say."

"It wasn’t like that at all!" Soltair burst out, recovering his tongue. "Her actions were strictly self-defense, and an accident at that. No normal person could have done anything differently."

Victor’s eyebrows knit together. "It doesn’t really matter. A hero must exemplify virtue and justice, knowing how and when to restrain their strength. We were called here to defend humans; killing them is unacceptable."

"We shouldn’t judge without fully understanding the circumstances," Levin said, the Earth Hero’s low rumble causing everyone to look at him. "If the church allows her to continue as she is, then what more can we say?"

"All that depends on Xiviyah herself," Grace said, peering at me with narrowed eyes. "I believe we interrupted her before she finished introducing herself. How strong are you?" she asked directly.

"W-well, I’m only capable of fourth-circle magic right now, but I feel confident beginning to learn fifth," I said, not wanting them to be too disappointed.

On the contrary, almost everyone relaxed. "I see," Grace murmured. "In that case, it hardly matters."

"I don’t follow," Alex said, tilting his head in confusion.

She rolled her eyes. "If she’s only capable of this much, then why worry? Soltair is more than enough to keep an eye on her, even if she decides to go rogue. I’m not nearly as strong as he is, but I doubt she could even touch me."

"True," Victor said, "but what about our reputations? We can hardly associate with a demonkin when the invasion starts. The world would lose all faith in us."

"Let’s worry about that when we get there," Levin said, looking at me in concern. I turned away, hoping no one else would notice the tears gathering in my eyes. The Earth hero moved his gaze over to Ronin. "No more interruptions."

"I was only saying she didn’t deserve my respect, not that we needed this philosophical discussion. Frankly, I don’t care what happens to her, after the tournament, that is."

His threat hung in the air for some time, but the heroes eventually moved on. Now that everyone had been introduced, they began catching up with each other, focused on the details of their various adventures. Soltair fell into a low discussion with Alex, and none of the others seemed keen to engage me, which left me alone.

As much as I tried to subdue my expectations, the lack of acceptance from the other heroes filled me with sorrow. I’d always held out hope that they would be as accepting as Soltair, having their minds free of the prejudices of this world, but they only barely tolerated my presence.

The dark thoughts swirled in my mind, but with the commencement of the banquet, I pushed them aside, trying to find solace in the moment. The Pope stood, releasing a fraction of his aura to quiet the hall, and addressed the assembled guests. After several minutes of courtly dialogue welcoming the powerful figures around the room, the Pope extended his hand, gesturing to our table.

"Furthermore, this festival marks the sixth-month anniversary of our heroes’ arrival. Until now, they have been out in the world honing their skills and preparing to face the impending Demonic Invasion at our very doors. This feast is held, in part, to honor their strength and unshakable will to fight and die at our sides and mark the end of this period of training. From this day forth, they will be sent out to face the darkness that faces all believers of the gods above, rooting out the heart of evil and closing Demon Gates as they appear. I’m also pleased to announce that the final hero, who failed to follow divine instructions and gather with the rest, has been found. I present Xiviyah, the Fate Hero."

Soltair grabbed my hand as the entire room turned to look at me. Unlike the casual observance of our arrival, I came under scrutiny from every noble, priest, and king. Unable to meet their eyes, I looked down at the table, wishing to crawl away to the furthest corner of the world. After an eternity, the Pope cleared his throat, and the prying eyes left me.

"Although her bloodline is stained with the blood of demons, I have taken every measure to secure her allegiance. Allow me to demonstrate. Xiviyah, on your knees!"

My breath caught as his words crashed over me like an icy wave, leaving me gasping for air. My hands trembled, and my face turned pale as the slave crest on my chest quivered, threatening to ignite.

My chair clattered away as I all but threw myself to my knees, biting my lip and holding back a sob. It upended itself onto the ground, a deafening disturbance in the silent air. My tail went lip as I bowed my head, my cheeks burning, and tail swishing anxiously behind me. The movement caught the attention of the attendees, and muted whispers rippled around the hall.

"Raise your head, demonkin," the Pope commanded, which I only obeyed after the slave crest tingled. The disgust and disdain of the crowd were suffocatingly thick, the mixed glances of pity only exacerbating my shame. "As you can all see, she has been bound with a slave crest. Regardless of her location or intentions, you may rest assured of her obedience. Furthermore, her life has been bound to our very own Sun Hero, our greatest strength against the demons. This doubles as insurance against her betrayal and protection for our holy savior."

The Pope waved his hand, dismissing me, but my limbs wouldn’t respond. Hot tears welled up in my eyes, defying my attempts to hold them back. My body shook with each stifled sob, and I longed for a moment of respite. The Pope’s intentions were overwhelmingly clear at this point. Forever afterward, no matter my status or accomplishments in the war to come, I would forever be "Xiviyah" to the world. Defeated. Broken.

"Return to your seat," the Pope said sternly, frowning at me.

My muscles clenched as the slave crest buzzed, and I somehow found the strength to move. I gathered my chair off the floor and collapsed on it, burying my head in my hands. The opening speech continued without further interruption, and the banquet began shortly after. Servants scurried around, bringing plate after plate of delectable food to each guest, beginning with those on the raised platform. No one spoke for almost a minute until they had retreated and left the heroes to themselves.

"That... was uncalled for," Levin said unsteadily. I continued to hide behind my hands, but the shock in his voice was palpable.

"What the hell?" Grace, the Storm hero muttered.

Alex coughed, his ever-optimistic tone dampened. "Talk about character assassination. Mind explaining what’s going on?"

I shook my head as another sob rocked my body, but it turned out he wasn’t talking to me. Soltair let out a sigh, his hand settling on my back. "It had to happen. For all the reasons we talked about before."

"I thought she was your girl," Alex shot back. "How’d you let anyone treat her that way? Aren’t you her master?"

Soltair’s hand on my back tightened, and I sensed the turmoil he was trying to hide behind his façade of strength. The rest of the banquet was filled with laughter and conversation befitting such an event. The boisterous merriment of the banquet hall seemed distant, barely breaking the heavy silence enveloping our table, stretching the discomfort with each passing moment. I wanted to have faith in him, to believe all his promises, but why did these things keep happening?

"I’m sorry," he finally said, reaching out to rub a tear from my cheek.

I sniffed, running a sleeve over my face to dry my tears, and looked up. Forgiveness laced my lips, but my tongue felt wooden, and I was unable to speak. The question of ’why’ seemed irrelevant now, with ’when’ a more pressing concern. When would the endless string of challenges cease?

I yearned for peace, for the quiet nothingness that accompanied my brief dance with death.

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