The Forsaken Hero

Lord Evlon’s hand caressed my cheek, tilting my head until the silver collar caught the purple-tinted light of the crystal enchantment. It was polished like a mirror, revealing my blood-smeared face as a mask of terror. The intricate seventh-level enchantments lacing the silver radiated a faint sense of pressure, adding to the suffocating aura the eighth-level inquisitor’s soul emitted.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" he asked.

I shuddered, unable to take my eyes off the Soul Binder. "P-please, no..."

He clicked his tongue. "Disappointing. You’ve led me on a chase across half the world, but to hear you beg like that...it’s just pathetic. How could one so weak cause so much trouble?"

"You can’t make me," I said, finally tearing my eyes away and meeting his gaze. "I’ll never willingly accept the Soul Binder!"

"Is that so?" Lord Evlon asked. He tilted my chin a little further up, examining a small abrasion beneath my eye. "Such delicate features. I can see why Lord Byron requested you. A pity he spent too much time playing with his meal."

"Why don’t you finish it, then? You want the staff, don’t you?"

"Is Allana truly dead?"

I choked on my breath, my tail twitching at the unexpected question. "S-she is."

He sighed, letting his hand drop from my face. "Ah, a pity. I was rather fond of her, too. It’s rare we find young talent with such fire in her veins. Do you happen to recall her final words?"

I swallowed hard, eying the Soul Binder, before shaking my head. Evlon sighed again, and suddenly, his wrinkles seemed to sag more, his age more pronounced.