The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 591: Invitation

Chapter 591: Invitation

The vision wavered like static, and when it stabilized again, the scene had shifted. The graceful decks of the skyship were gone, and in their place, a soaring chapel. A shard of omniscience glittered in the center, guarded by an entire battalion of soldiers. They watched the entrances intently, bodies stiff and rigid. Their souls blazed bright, the weakest among them the third-level.

A ninth-level mage slouched against the wall behind the shard, head leaning back against the stone. She had long, graying hair, her brow creased with a few, aged wrinkles. Her eyes were bright, glowing with the same purple light that infused the crystal enchantment. She held a staff loosely in her grip, a gnarled wood haft tipped with an icon of a small book made of silver, the pages spread. Tiny, intricate runes had been carved into the visible pages. They glowed faintly with purple light, giving off the faint pressure of an eighth-level magic item.

The woman suppressed a yawn with the back of her hand. Her eyes met mine, and she straightened, lips twitching into a small smile. My throat tightened, and I took a hesitant step back.

"About time," she murmured, "I was starting to think they actually had killed you."

I looked around, but none of the other soldiers were paying her any attention, or had even noticed she was speaking.

"Don’t be shy, oracle. I’ve been waiting for so long. Wouldn’t it be rude to ignore me?"

I took a nervous breath, my tail flicking back and forth. "W-who are you?"

"Ah, better. My name is Nithalee, one of the few humble worshipers of the God of Magic."

"Magic!" I took a step back, clutching my skirt. "I-I don’t have his shard!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Shard? Who said anything about a shard?"

"W-why am I here?" I stammered, staring at the ground. "What do you want?"

"Truly, you are adorable, just as he said." She hesitated, and her smile tightened wryly. "Okay, well, it is about the shard, actually. My god is very interested in you but has certain... reservations."

My fingers curled, digging deeper into the fabric. "I don’t want anything to do with him," I whispered. "He’s on their side."

"Who, the Sun God?" Nithalee laughed, causing several of the soldiers to give her strange looks. She challenged their gaze with her own, and they quickly averted their eyes. "That’s about as far from the truth as Fate’s death."

My eyes widened slightly, and she nodded, her grin looking out of place on her aged face.

"Don’t worry, I don’t plan on spreading things like that around. For now, at least."

The threat hung in the air, and I swallowed. "Why?"

"Why, what?" She tilted her head.

"Why do all this?"

She shook her head slightly. "This world is a hinge point, Oracle, and there are things in motion we mortals can’t comprehend. I cannot pretend to know or agree with my god’s reasoning, but I am sworn to obey. If you survive, he will find you. You’ll be able to get your questions answered then."

The cathedral’s main doors busted open, and a seventh-level warrior strode through. His soul felt familiar, and I recognized it as one of the warriors on the first skyship.

"Nithalee! That damned apostle’s made his move. They killed Jargean, and are cutting through the northern battalion. We need you to make a move, else he–"

She tsked, shaking her head. "My mission is to protect this shard, nothing more, nothing less."

The warrior’s eyes narrowed, and he let out a frustrated breath. "You can’t just hide in here! If they break through, they’ll come for the shard. That’s what the demons do!"

She fixed him with her gaze, and he took a step back.

"M-my lady, forgive my sharp tongue," he said, bowing his head. "But my comrades are dying out there. Please, would you–"

"This is your land and your war. Be grateful I already agreed to sustain the crystal enchantment."

The man’s mouth worked, but no sound came out. At last, he gave a grudging salute and turned, stalking back out the doors.

"Goodness," Nithalee said, shaking her head. I jumped as her eyes swiveled back to me, but they’d lost their intensity. "You’d best get going, too."

I forced my hands to release their grip on my skirt. "T-thank you."

She snorted and waved her hand. "Don’t thank me. I’d rather you were caught and executed for your actions. Just... don’t be. My god would be most disappointed."

The building rattled, the windows filling with violet light. Ribbons of curse mana swept through the room, and I recognized the same mana signature as the spell that had shaken the skyship—Luke’s mana signature.

"One last thing, Oracle," she said as I started to fade. "My god wished me to tell you he admires your Aegis."

The vision dispersed, jolting me awake. My hand flew to my chest where the Slave Crest had once rested. The skin was smooth and unblemished, but my heart thundered against my palm. The final moments of my vision were visceral, and even now, I felt the curse’s slimy touch upon my soul and the pressure of the magic’s weight against my chest.

The illusion grew stronger, and my muscles started to tremble, a tremendous weight pressing on my chest. I struggled to sit up but immediately collapsed back down with a violent cough, tasting blood. Slowly, the pressure faded, and I gulped down short, shallow gasps of air.

Every muscle ached, stiff and sore, and the myriad wounds across my flesh burned with searing fire. Tears gathered in my eyes as I touched my tail, and I jumped, startled to hear myself whimper.

I curled up tighter, trembling until the filth of the curse receded. It hadn’t just been a vision. Whatever Luke had just done affected the whole city.

Slowly, I raised my head, the weight of the sheet sliding off my horns. Violet light bled through the windows, catching on the shattered glass littering the hardwood floor. None of the windows were intact, and the rest of the house wasn’t in any better condition. The table had been thrown against the wall, the chairs toppled, and clothes, food, and a few children’s toys were scattered haphazardly across the room.

The bed I’d hidden in was the smallest of the four pressed against the wall. Blood soaked the sheets, and while most had dried and hardened, a few streaks glistened in the soft violet illumination. As I tried to rise, I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. The fabric clung to my wounds, caught in the forming scabs.

I lay back down, whimpering as the adrenaline wore off and the pain returned. It was still dark outside, so I hadn’t slept for long, but my muscles had stiffened, making moving hard. The dull ache of my wounds had turned to a sharp bite. Every time I shifted, something hurt, whether it was the grit and gravel stuck in my cuts or the soreness in my shoulder.

A few on my back were fiery hot, as was a scrape on my hand. The sheets were stuck to my back, but I lifted my hand, examining the wound. The edges of the wound were red and puffy, a sickly fluid oozing through cracked scabs.

Infection? But it hadn’t even been a full night!

What was worse was that my mana had hardly recovered at all. The Oracle of Eternity had drained me, leaving me with barely more than when I’d fallen asleep. My hands curled into fists, clenching weakly at the bloody sheets in frustration. Why did Nithalee maintain the crystal enchantment if she wanted me to escape? Didn’t she know I needed my mana?

The visions, at least, had given me some clarity, even if at the expense of my mana. Verity and the Empire had orchestrated this entire trap. They had forced us into a corner and blasted us out of the sky. R’lissea had been caught, and if nothing changed, I might be too.

Luke and Jessia were alive and, judging by the violet light and constant shockwaves shaking the city, were putting up a fight. The empire had grown desperate enough to beg Nithalee for help, which could only mean they’d lost whatever advantage Verity managed to get them. They were running blind now, just with even less of the picture than I had.

Was this the true face of a war between fate wielders? A constant tug-of-war, the advantage shifting with the ever-changing future? Perhaps with more proactive use of my visions, I could have averted the ambush, but Verity might have seen that change in behavior and laid a totally different trap. The Oracle of Eternity and Eyes of Fate offered glimpses of possibility, thus the future muddled when both sides possessed them. In the end, all the ability to see fate did was extend the battlefield further into the future, not provide dominance. It all boiled down to the present, the only truth that actually mattered.

But here I was, wounded and alone. Helpless. Could I even survive another day without help? The thought of surrendering flickered through my mind, a dangerous temptation. At least then–

No. I would rather die than surrender to the Church. I shuddered, the image of inquisitors’ knives and twisted magic flashing through my mind. There was worse, now, too. What if they bound my soul and cursed me with a Heart Crest? What if next time I walked into Alex’s room, begging him to rape me? Or what if they forced me to fight against Luke?

Blinking back tears, I set my jaw. With agonizing slowness, I rolled onto my side and probed my back, fingers finding purchase on the blood-stiffened sheet. I started to tease it away, whimpering as every tug ripped scabs from my back and blood soaked my skin again. Several times, I was forced to stop, trembling as black dots spun across my vision, the pain overwhelming.

At last, I collapsed back to the bed, letting out a sob. My skin was torn and bleeding from a hundred gashes, but I was free of the sheet’s clutches. It was time to move again.