The Forsaken Hero

I stood in the center of the meadow, staff held tightly in one clammy hand, Fable by my side. The inquisitors were mere seconds from breaking through the trees, though their pace felt suspiciously slow, an unhurried walk at best. My chest felt heavy with trepidation, my tail drawing long, erratic lines in the grass behind me.

I bit my lip, taking a moment to calm my breathing. Could it be simple chance that brought us together? Would it have been better to hide, and let them pass? I dismissed the thought with a shake of my head. If they were here, it was Fate that brought them, and I knew better than to run from Fate. If this was truly a meeting of chance, then the playing field was even, giving me, with my unique abilities, the advantage. There was the demonic presence to consider as well. I had to bring it down before it stumbled upon the village. If the inquisitors were left to roam freely, I would risk being surrounded.

The forest rustled, bearing the sound of voices, and my chest tightened as a group of white-robed figures emerged from the trees. As I had guessed, they moved with an air of easy confidence, walking two by two, caught up in a casual conversation.

The first were familiar faces, an older woman, Leera, and the young, brown-haired girl Aqua. Leera’s soul was strained and withered, barely above the threshold of third level. Thick scars laced her mana, disrupting its normal flow, something that would hinder her as long as she lived. Aqua’s white cowl was drawn back, revealing a startling pretty face with piercing green eyes and short brown hair. Her soul blazed with power, a full half-step closer to fifth level than last we met.

Behind them marched four armored men, their plate gleaming in the afternoon sun. The shining metal carried the marks of many battles–divots, scars, and scratches–a promise of the extensive combat experience of the men who wore it. They carried an assortment of heavy weapons, from broadswords to long-handled halberds, the blades every bit as bright as their armor. They moved with a chilling synchronicity, their movements bearing the graceful, trained movements of those familiar with war.

Our eyes met, and the party stumbled to a stop, their faces growing slack with surprise. A shiver coursed down my spine as their gazes crawled over my crimson hair and horns, finally falling to the giant infernal wolf lying at my feet. Aqua in particular seemed taken aback, a glint of uncertainty flicking through her eyes.

Leera recovered first, throwing back her head in a harsh, bitter chuckle. "Of all the places to meet a filthblood, a field of flowers seems least fitting. I was expecting to find you in the village, crawling beneath tables like the dog you are, begging for scraps."

Her words brought a flush to my face, and I took a shallow breath, fighting to remain composed. An agitated swish in the air behind me let me know my efforts were waisted, my treacherous tail betraying me.

Leera scoffed, flicking her hand out in some sort of signal. Immediately, the armored men fanned out, forming a loose semicircle around me. In a flash of steel, their weapons were in their hands, though they kept their distance. For now.