The Forsaken Hero

I awoke lying on the ground, soft shoots of grass tickling around my ears. Sunlight bathed me in gentle warmth, broken by soft shadows that wove before my face. The wind sighed in my ears, carrying the rustle of leaves and the clear chirp of birds. It was quiet and peaceful, and for a time, even the constant throb of the Sunpurge faded away. I allowed myself, for a time, to soak it in without daring to open my eyes, afraid that the moment I did, it would vanish into the cold steel and stone of dungeon walls. If this were a dream, I’d rather not wake up.

Something stirred beside me. A moment later, a long, polished shaft slid into my parted fingers. A tingle raced through my fingers and down my arm.

"Go away," I muttered, trying to push away the staff. "Just a little longer."

But it persisted, rolling itself against my palm and vibrating urgently until I groaned and opened my eyes. Sitting up, I looked about and found myself nestled in an ancient forest. The air was crisp and clear, the breeze cool against my skin, carrying a lingering winter chill. Spring had long since come, and was nearly gone, on the southern continent, meaning this could only be the northern. Or even some other place I’d never heard of, though that seemed unlikely.

The trees were gnarled and old, with chaotic twisting roots and trunks thicker than I was tall. Fresh leaves clothed the burly branches, which stretched high overhead to form an erratic canopy. Vines curled between bushes and trunks, mixing with the spring shoots to form a soft carpet. A thin stream wound through the forest not ten feet from where I sat, trickling over moss-covered roots and rocks.

The staff hummed in approval as I crawled over to the water and drank. The crystal water was frigid with the spring thaw, shocking the lethargy of the teleportation from my system. Conscious of my shaky legs, I used the staff as a crutch and raised myself to my feet. I was barefoot, but the dirt and new growth were soft against my soles, giving slightly beneath my weight and creeping between my toes. I sighed contentedly, my tail brushing the tips of the grasses, and stretched.

My soul felt alive and free, swaddled in the warmth of Fate’s lingering divinity. The demonkin woman said that would fade soon, which would deprive me of my abilities. My soul would return to its fractured state, exactly as it had been a month after the Curse Demon shattered it. The Inquisitor’s amulet held it in stasis ever since then, enslaving me with endless torture at the hands of those accursed threads.

She’d shown me the spell the Curse Demon used to heal Elise, but it was fifth-circle. It would take months to accumulate that much power on my own, and even then there was no guarantee of success. I would have to modify the spell on my own, which wasn’t a task I was unfamiliar with, but still incredibly daunting.

When it came to the soul, I had learned the hard way a mistake could cripple, or worse, kill. The tortured groans of the Last Light Company rang in my ears, driving the message home. I had meddled with powers I didn’t understand, and nearly killed them all. If it weren’t for experimenting with the wolf only the night before, all of our souls would have been lost to infernal corruption.