The Wordless Mage
Chapter 54: The Accursed Hero

Chapter 54: The Accursed Hero

The black enshrouding Rowan’s consciousness was dispelled, the world itself quivering from his arrival.

As if his eyes were welded shut by the light burning into his retinas, he covered his face slowly to rescind the burning pain writing amongst his eye lids, and searing into his brain.

He hadn’t taken more than a moment to identify what he was inside, the drywood and the clattering of hooves the biggest indicators. He was inside a carriage, its travel slowing at the very second.

He blinked once.

Then whispered: "Where am I?"

Despite the clear signs of his vessel being transported into rural land, he hadn’t immediately recognized its location, partly due to him having to close his eyes in anxious fear when he’d originally traversed through these parts, the invisibility cloak he’d donned requiring his most minute movement.

It was the land that connected the royal capital to the town that the heroes used to train, its usage horribly transfigured by the surprise demon that took over his body.

Wait, demon?

"Liora!"

His breaths were irregular, his face drenched with sweat.

He remembered.

Her screams, her terrible branding, and the person who dealt such an affliction upon her.

He threw himself up, his shoulders flying forward like someone’s immediate reaction to a sudden jolt of pain. The flashes of remembrance were far too heavy a burden for his mind, the rest of his body seeking some form of refuge in their frantic motion.

But it only frightened him more.

His hands wouldn’t separate from each other, the metal of the chains binding them going taut with enough force to break his wrists.

The front of the carriage cracked with someone’s angered fists, their back popping through the curtain that covered people in the back who were riding, but not driving. "Silence, you! Be quiet while we make haste to the capital, and think on your actions for a moment. Perhaps, then, the gods will have mercy on you."

Upon further inspection by Rowan, he saw that they wore a familiar white robe.

The church.

He remembered it clearly, like the visceral pattering of a stormy night. How could he not?

"Hey, do you mind telling me why it is you guys resent demons so much?"

The question had an obvious answer behind it--or should’ve been--but Rowan knew it was best to interrogate further. This was a separate world, and figures such as Lucifer and the demons of hell may not exist. Plus, everything was more tangible, offering a reality to it that was nowhere to be found in his original world.

The priest, on the other hand, didn’t care for it. "What did I just tell you? Be still and sit there silently. Wallow in your wretched existence, and find repentance in your continued suffering. They ought to put down a demon such as you, so you should be thankful that your status as hero is about the only thing keeping you alive."

Rowan’s lips zipped tight at his snarky retort, his words far too forthright for him to make any real conversation with.

Instead, he just turned to his side, resting his head against the hard wood. It allowed him to rest his arms so that they didn’t have to support their own weight. It wasn’t comfortable, but it would do.

...

"Get up."

Rowan was forced to his back, the hand from the figure above him pushing him down.

Drowsily, Rowan opened his eyes one at a time, lethargy weighing on his movements. He would’ve yawned, but the setting didn’t allow for it, especially with the bony ache coming from his neck where he’d rested his head on hard material.

"Huh, what’s going on?"

"You’re going to lay still until you’re put on trial, is what."

Without giving Rowan the chance to wake up, the man latched onto his chains, pulling him from his seat. He violently yanked him back, throwing him outside of the carriage onto the floor.

"Damn it, stop that, would you!"

"Do you honestly think a demon such as you gets to tell me what to do? Sit there on the ground like dirt."

Wet splashed onto Rowan’s cheek, dropping from the priest’s mouth in perfect trajectory.

Rowan’s fists bulged with a tightening grip, anger that he’d bottled up after he defeated the demon bubbling from his stomach.

The priest had spit on him, and hadn’t even bothered to help him up.

Like pangs of pain, flashes of Liora’s brand flew through his mind, the rage getting pushed down once more.

He shivered at the memories, almost bursting into tears.

But he refused.

Clumsily helping himself up with the impediment of chained wrists, he trailed behind the priest, checking his surroundings for better understanding.

There were straight lines of carriages, all immaculately arranged before the steps of the royal citadel.

The structure itself loomed like a sermon cast in stone--gilded banners draping from its battlements, twin statues of angels and dragons guarding the marble archway. Through its open gates, music trickled out: elegant strings, polite chatter, the clink of goblets.

Rowan’s footsteps echoed off the stone tiles as he stumbled forward, every gaze affixed to him like he were some beast dragged in from the wilds. His torn robes, his chained hands, the dirt across his face--it all made him a blemish in a place of polish.

And yet the guards let him pass.

He was ushered into the grand atrium, its ceiling painted with gods smiting serpents, the floor beneath him tiled with gold leaf. There, standing in small clusters around a central banquet, were diplomats, nobles, and heroes alike. Kaia. Elias. Lucien. All in fresh garments, their eyes widening at his approach.

Conversations fell quiet.

Gasps fluttered like moths.

"Rowan?" Elias whispered, his goblet trembling.

But before anyone could cross the space between them--

A voice boomed through the chamber.

"HOLD!"

The doors slammed open behind him with divine force. Priests poured in, grimoires aglow. At their center: Pope Tharos, his staff glimmering like the wrath of daybreak.

"This gathering is no longer under civil jurisdiction," he declared. "By divine edict, Rowan the accursed is to be arrested for communion with the abyss. Stand aside--or be judged alongside him."

And just like that, the room fractured--half into silence, the other into chaos.

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