The Forsaken Hero-Chapter 676: Diverging Fate

At that revelation, the two priestesses froze up. Their eyes bulged, and their swords shook violently. One fell back against the bed, her knees giving out as it knocked against the mattress.

"Where is the artifact?" I asked, making my voice as authoritative as I could. ƒгeewёbnovel.com

"I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!" the one who hadn’t fallen cried.

Her eyes darted to the small dresser beside the bed, then back at me. I sighed and waved my hand, soul casting a spell.

"Binding Winds."

Powerful wind currents wound around the girls, binding their arms to their sides. Their blades clattered the ground as I motioned up, lifting them into the air.

Fable lowered himself, allowing me to slip from his back. The dresser was enchanted by a fifth-level enchantment. I shook my head, muttering to myself. I probably should have assumed it was in there, even without the hints.

"Dispel Magic."

The wards resisted for a second before shattering in a shower of sparks. The girls squeaked, and I felt one of their souls flare. Fable shifted behind me, the noise followed by a sickening crunch and another scream. The scream abruptly cut off.

I bit my lip, dropping to my knees in front of the dress. "Did you have to?" I mumbled as I opened the drawer.

A wave of power emanated as it slid open, guiding my hand to a small hollow sphere of translucent glass about the size of a clenched fist. A soft, golden light drifted within the globe like a buoy on the waves. It warmed as I gingerly picked it up, resonating with my mana.

"Beautiful," I admired, twisting it and finding thousands of minuscule runes etched into the glass. I didn’t recognize most of them.

I closed my eyes and reached out with my mana, but it slid off the artifact. I tried again, pushing this time, and the sphere grew hot, forcing my wards to step in and prevent it from burning me. The sphere resisted no matter how hard I pushed, and I was forced to give up when my soul started to waver.

A small frown creased my lips as I stared into the sphere at the golden light in the center. It bobbed energetically as if it were mocking me.

"Fine, have it your way," I muttered.

With a wave, I summoned my staff and opened a small portal to Haven, dropping the artifact in. With any luck, Emlika would be able to figure it out. Or maybe she already had a spell that did the same thing.

As the golden swirl closed, the weight shuttering my soul lifted. I drew a long, slow breath, letting it out as a sigh. The artifact’s suppression had been subtle, but there was no mistaking it now that it was gone. I felt...free—light and free.

"It’s done!" I said, turning to Fable.

The smile on my lips died as I was reminded of why I’d avoided looking at that side of the room. Two blood corpses floated, trapped in the air currents. The first had three deep gashes slashed across her chest, blood dribbling down her body, dripping to the ground from her. The other’s head hung askew, neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Fable stood in front of them, tail wagging.

"Y-yeah, you did good," I whispered, clutching my stomach.

They were just girls, barely a year or two older than myself. In my few interactions, there’d been no particular malice or scorn, only what I could expect from one of their statuses. They weren’t evil, yet...they were on the wrong side. Or maybe, from their perspective, I was the one in the wrong.

Fable’s expression sank as he tasted my sadness, his ears and tail drooping. I pet his head as I moved past him, heading back into my room. He followed me, trying to look as small as possible. As if his head didn’t reach my shoulder or his weight didn’t exceed mine by a factor of ten.

"It wasn’t your fault," I said, petting his head. "It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It’s just...fate."

I let myself mourn the deaths a little longer, but I couldn’t let it linger. It wasn’t really the two girl’s deaths that saddened me, but the countless thousands that had died in this needless war. Maybe it hadn’t been right to say no one was to blame. The gods had ordered them here just as they directed the slaughter at the border and the dragons to be released.

The room shook, dust raining from the ceiling. I rubbed my horn and sat heavily on the bed. It creaked softly, shifting under my sleight weight.

"Watch a little longer," I whispered, closing my eyes.

Fable growled softly, and I heard him pacing the room, checking the door, then the hole in the wall, before settling at my feet. He rested his head in my lap, giving me something to hold as I embraced the Oracle of Eternity. The ever-present tingle in my soul was enough to know I’d need it.

No sooner had my soul space appeared than I willed it gone, sinking into a vision. There was no need for me to suggest anything, for fate flowed freely, guiding me like a leaf bobbing down a stream.

I opened my eyes in a massive cavern, blinking as my demonkin eyes adjusted to the pitch black. That was odd. If this was under the spire, shouldn’t there be cracks of lava, or at least a glowing light crystal? Wasn’t this supposed the be the scene of the dragon’s being unsealed?

The first thing to hit me was the stench–that of sickly sweet decay. I wretched, covering my mouth even as I started making out shapes. There were...chains. Beastkin, elves, and demonkin locked behind bars. A man standing in the center of the room, his soul emanating a seventh-level pressure. His aura, however, was suppressed to the middle stages of the fifth level.

I gasped, staring at the man before my eyes darted to the ceiling. There, braced against stalactites larger than Fable, was a massive skeletal dragon. Dark mana slithered through its bones, emanating from its eyes and claws in thick, curling wisps. It wasn’t the oily taint of curse magic but something far more foul and decrepit. The same sense of wrongness I got around Connor. Its bones creaked as it shifted, small flecks of rock raining down where its claws scraped against the stone.

My ears twitched, and I turned to the mouth of the passage. There were voices–familiar voices. The darkness retreated before an orange glow, and Korra and Gayron strode into view. Their noses wrinkled as they gazed around the room, neither sparing the man much attention. For the second time, I tried to warn them, but my voice was silenced in the weave of fate.

"Welcome," the robbed slaver said, bowing his head to the couple. "I see you’ve finally come. I’ve been waiting for you."

"Who the hell are you?" Gayron asked. "I expected someone strong enough to properly greet us. Is this all the mighty Circle has left?"

"No!" I bit my lip, gripping my skirt helplessly. "Don’t trust him! He’s dangerous."

"Yes, you’ve done a marvelous job pruning our ranks," the robed figure said. "I am the last Lord of the Circle. You may call me Lord Purpose."

The cavern shook slightly, but only Lord Purpose noticed. His eyes flickered up momentarily, a small frown creasing his face. More trickles of dust fell from the roof, but not just from the dragon’s claws.

Gayron let go of Korra’s hand and drew his sword. "Nah, I don’t think I will. You’re not important enough to remember."

Purpose removed his cowl, revealing a handsome, middle-aged man with a strong jawline. He bowed his head slightly.

The temperature dropped as the cavern shook again, this time accompanied by a low rumble. Garyon and Korra exchanged a worried look and drew on their souls, filling their bodies with mana.

Purpose swallowed hard, shifting uneasily. He clasped his hands, sneaking another subtle glare at the dragon. "Please, do not be hasty. On behalf of the Circle of Chains, I offer our surrender. Should you accept, I will personally disband the Circle and see that those slaves we have yet to process go free."

"What game are you playing?" Gayron demanded. He pointed his sword at the slaver. "I’m not sure we’re even in the mood for a surrender."

A chill ran down my spine. He hadn’t said that last time. Nor had the dragon given itself away before. But for some reason, it had this time, and now Gayron and Korra were on edge. If they could just look up now...

Lord Purpose gritted his teeth. "I assure you, my offer is genuine. I am the last surviving leader of the circle. One word from me and–"

The ceiling ruptured as the mountain itself collapsed into the cavern. Chunks of rubble the size of castle towers broke apart, crashing into the dragon and sending it smashing toward the ground. Thick veins of ice snaked through the falling wreckage, bringing the biting chill of winter to the cavern’s heart. There were several flashes of mana, and then everything went dark, obscured by millions of tons of rock, stone, and ice. The last thing I saw before everything went dark was a single crystalline feather caught amid the landslide—a massive feather with tines that caught the light of Gayron’s fire, sparkling with rainbow colors.

The vision broke apart as my soul form was buried under millions of tons of rock, stone, and ice. When it reformed, I was hovering a thousand feet in the air, overlooking a literal mushroom cloud of dust, snow, and infernal mana. The cliffs and mountains Gayron and Korra had collapsed in a massive crater, equaling any of the destruction the twin lava dragons were wreaking in Blacksand. Instead of lava and fire, the landscape was locked in a tundra for a mile in all directions. And in the center of the destruction, half-buried by the broken mountain, was Borealis.