The Forsaken Hero

Rash’alon’s eyes narrowed. "You still defy me? You are bound by oath, and soon, your soul. None in this realm can help you now. Not even your precious–"

The demon’s eyes widened, and it recoiled, gaining a dozen yards of distance. A blade, black as midnight, tore through the space he’d been standing in, so sharp it cut the darkness itself.

Scarcely had I registered the sword when the shockwave struck, a storm of mana capable of destroying a city. A figure materialized in front of me, breaking the brunt of the wave with his own body. Eddies of power rippled around him, tearing at my hair and clothes, lacing me with dozens of tiny cuts and bruises. It squeezed my insides, driving more blood up my throat.

The blade, gripped in my rescuer’s hand, flashed again, severing the black chains that shackled me. I fell, limp like a doll. A large hand caught me and pulled me close, sheltering me against a broad chest. I sobbed, fingers curling into the folds of a cloak, clinging to it with all the strength I had left.

I’d never felt anything so warm and safe before. The slave crest continued to scorch my chest, sending more tendrils through my body and soul, and I clung tighter, trying to leech the heat from the body against mine.

"What did you do to her?"

For some reason, the voice sounded like Luke. A furious Luke. Not just angry or upset, but filled with so much rage his sword literally shook in his hand.

"Apostle, what are you doing here?" Rash’alon’s spat. "None but a curse-attributed demon can enter this field."

Apostle? I looked up, blinking away tears. Luke. It really was Luke. Despite everything, he’d come for me.

"You forget what power I wield. I am the apostle of curses. There is no hole too dark or shadow too deep for me to tread. I’ll ask you one more time. What did you do to her?"

Rash’alon’s sneer could be heard rather than seen. "See for yourself. It’s already begun. Soon, she’ll be nothing but a mindless toy. Perhaps, if you’re obedient, I’ll let you play with her."