The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 93: Shadows

Chapter 93: Shadows

As broken as I was, not even sleep gave me peace. The dark nightmares that had tormented me for months attacked in force, refusing to allow my soul the rest it needed to recover. Never before had the familiar figures in the dream felt so lifelike, so real, that I often found myself unable to distinguish Soltair in my nightmares from the real one. A glowing slave crest pulsed deep within my darkened mind, ever-present no matter the nightmarish scene.

Gradually, the terrors faded and darkness encroached from all directions. Finding myself alone, I allowed myself to relax and slip into a deeper sleep. As my dream’s consciousness faded, a distant voice broke my solitude. It was dry and harsh, crackling like embers, the words searing into my soul.

"I’m coming for you."

I awoke sometime later, drenched in sweat and muscles weak with exhaustion. The bed jostled with erratic bumps, shaking the drowsiness from my body. Fortunately, I had enough strength to open my eyes, but found a rather confusing scene.

I was curled up on a bench, not a bed, with Soltair and Trithe sitting across from me. They were sleeping peacefully, her head resting on his shoulder, their hands laced together tightly. The walls were close around us, with two darkened windows on either side. Were we in a carriage?

I’d never actually ridden in a carriage before, but that would explain the close quarters and unsteady gait. Still, with my thoughts still muddled by my soul’s weakness, I had a hard time reconciling the baffling change in scenery. Had they decided to kick us out of the town? But then why give us a carriage?

The excruciating memories of the slave crest’s punishment slammed into me, driving away all other thoughts. The story came back in bits and pieces until I managed to jumble together what had happened. A drunk man assaulted me, and I pushed him away with a spell. He went through the wall, and there was blood everywhere.

I stared down at my hand, opening and closing my fingers slowly. The man’s broken body returned to my mind, dead beyond all doubt, yet I felt nothing. Even the anxious cringe I suffered every time I thought of the dead priests was gone. It wasn’t a revelation, but more of a realization, yet it still took me by surprise.

But why had Soltair activated the Slave Crest? Just touching on the subject sent a wave of phantom pains through my body, and I clutched the blanket tighter about me. His words, given so casually right before I lost consciousness, trickled in. Something about giving a good show?

I groaned, feeling an incoming headache. Let’s keep things simple for now. I’m sure he had a reasonable explanation. Soltair wouldn’t treat me like that without purpose, even if he had changed. There must have been something going on behind the scenes again, like when the Pope humiliated me before the powers of the world. There had to be.

The alternatives were too scary to think about, so I instead focused my soul, drawing as much mana as I could. It was hardly more than a trickle, but the comforting warmth soothed my aching heart.

After several hours, grays pushed through the gaps in the curtains, signaling dawn was near. Soltair’s golden eyes cracked open and he yawned. Shifting, he realized Trithe was still sound asleep, and settled down, a tender smile playing across his face. He raised a hand to stroke her shimmering golden hair, but froze, his eyes locking on to me.

"You’re awake," he muttered softly, as though afraid to wake the sleeping girl.

I returned his gaze evenly, unable to quell my rapidly beating heart. "Why?" I whispered. The single word carried the weight of my heart, twisting mournfully before it even left my lips.

A long, drawn-out sigh escaped him, and he looked at the window, tracing the gray seams where the morning light snuck past the curtains. "Xiviyah, I didn’t mean for it to go that way. By activating your slave crest, I wanted to appease the crowd and get the guards to accept it as a punishment. Before we left the Divine Throne, the Pope recommended this strategy as a way to, uh, prove the dominance of the Sun over the demons. He told me the rune I used was the weakest one that would simply send a small jolt."

"And you believed him?"

He winced, still not meeting my eyes. "It didn’t work out like I planned, but at least they let you go."

"Retaliation will likely be lethal."

"Wha?" he asked, glancing at me in confusion. But a shadow crossed his face a moment later, and he bowed his head.

"You said that, didn’t you? That man was going to rape me. Did you expect me to allow that? To serve myself up on a silver platter? What else could you have possibly meant? I didn’t mean to kill him, but I’m not sorry I protected myself."

"I... wasn’t serious," he mumbled. "It just seemed like the perfect thing to say."

I sat up, wincing at a sharp pain in my chest, but struggling until I was able to look him in the eye. "What are you talking about?"

He averted his eyes, his hand fidgeting around Trithe’s fingers. "I just thought a hero would say something like there. But did you really think I was serious? You should know me better than that."

"’Rest. I’ll take it from here.’ ’Xiviyah is mine, and I will protect her. Even if you pull the full weight of the church upon us, I won’t back down.’ ’I will always be there. Even when demons invade, and hellfire rains from the sky, I will protect you.’" Tears gathered in my eyes as the words tumbled from my lips, pulled from their shining places in my memory. Soltair’s promises were pillars of comfort and support that I had relied on every bit as much as magic. Even as my faith slipped away, I had been unable to let them go, clinging to them deep within my soul.

He looked at me dumbly for some time before his eyes glinted with recognition. "O-of course I was serious. I recognize that things haven’t been easy, but haven’t we gotten through it? At the end of the day, it’s just a little pain and suffering. As long as everything works out in the end, it will all just be in the past."

"But-"

I fell silent as he waved his hand, unable to speak as the slave crest perceived his next words as a command. "That’s enough Xiviyah. Just trust me, and I’ll make sure we get the best route possible."

After some time, Trithe began to stir, her lovely eyes opening and face lighting up with a smile. "Are we almost there?" She asked, gazing up at Soltair.

"Almost. Oh, Xiviyah, I almost forgot. After you fainted, the church sent word a Demon Gate opened near our position. According to the message, it’s the first one ever, so we get first clear rights. I bet Alex is going throw a fit," he said with a smile.

His humor was lost on me, but I forced a smile and nodded. "Yeah. I wonder what it’s going to be like."

"Nothing too strong," Trithe said, yawning, "only the weakest demons can get through the world’s barrier right now. I bet the leader of their groups isn’t even as strong as the basilisk."

Soltair nodded, and we all fell silent. I curled up again, taking advantage of the peace to get some more rest. Facing demons in my condition felt tandamine to suicide. But, even after closing my eyes, my thoughts continued to race, circling my conversation with Soltair. As disheartening as his comments were, his lack of apology stung the most. Even if it was an accident, couldn’t he understand the horrors he put me through?

I couldn’t understand him. His talk of sacrifice and roles reminded me far too much of optimizing a playthrough in a video game. But, whether he saw me as anything more than an NPC or not, one thing was made very clear. I could no longer rely on him, or anyone else, for peace and protection. If I am to receive the happiness Fate wished for me, it will have to be by my own hand.

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