8- When a God refuses

  -Forever the one who Failed to Save The World…

  Entry 47 - When Restraint Slipped - Year 650

  We were on a Culling Hunt. A Chasmfiend, a creature of pure rage, ambushed us. It cornered a new hunter, a young boy. We were too far away. We were about to watch him die. The Master was with us, observing. In an instant, he was no longer there. The Chasmfiend simply… stopped. It wasn't dead. It was frozen, perfectly still, encased in a field of warped space-time. The Master reappeared beside the boy, his face completely devoid of expression. He looked at the frozen creature, and for a single, terrifying second, I felt a wave of pure, cold annihilation wash over me. It was the feeling of a star deciding to go nova. Then it was gone. He simply turned and said, "Let us return home." I have never been so afraid in my life.

  — Vesha, Huntmistress

  “Hey Tris…” I mumbled, feeling the dryness of the air scrape my throat. The heavy weight of a companion on my shoulder, the other still battered, bruised on my lap as we hugged the corner of our cell. Our clothes were filth, our cell exposed to any who walked past us. “Vera, you still holding on?”

  My companion at my legs gave a soft squeeze of my knee, his hands slowly calloused from the weeks pressed against damp stone. No natural light, just the sputter of a distant torch casting long, dancing shadows. Just enough food to feel the gnaw of hunger, just enough water to know the ache of thirst. We were rationing their rations, a cruel joke. Trying to get Verra just enough so her mana could replenish… But that was weeks ago. She never spoke now. Her eyes, once bright with arcane fire, only ever came to light whenever our touch brought her back from the brink.

  We lost.

  Not gracefully, not even with a chance to retaliate.

  It had been several months after we set out, praised as Heroes of the World, a party who would inevitably bring down the vile-wickedness of the Envoy of Death… Who were we to think we could fight such an unholy abomination?

  “Sid…” Tris whispered, his voice barely a garbled rustling of leaves. I could feel his weakened body move against mine, slowly pushing up from my lap.

  “Save your strength Tris.” I whispered back, my damaged hand reaching for his back, the only comfort I could give. He didn’t listen. He pulled himself closer, turning to look at me, his gaze lopsided. His one good eye had healed, but the other remained a milky ruin.

  “I… I Hear something above…” He murmured, bringing his head to rest on my chest now, pressing his body closer. The light flicks of his remaining ear no doubt hearing something we couldn’t.

  “It’s alright you two, I’ll protect you, no matter what.” I murmured, bringing his head to rest on my chest, pressing his body closer for warmth. The light flicks of his remaining ear twitched, chasing a sound the rest of us couldn’t hear. Even Verra shifted lightly, her head resting more into the crook of my neck.

  Ten Minutes…

  Fifteen…

  Then, a deep, resonant thrum vibrated through the stone floor, shaking the dust from the ceiling. Not a crash, but the sound of something impossibly heavy settling into place. It was followed by a thunderous CRACK from above that shook the cell, the bars, the whole damn fortress we were in.

  “The hell…” I murmured, watching as several of the darkspawn guards rushed past our cell, their once-languid movements now a frantic blur.

  “Dragon…” Tris murmured into my chest, unmoving.

  A singular dragon, causing the Grand Fortress of Veltriago to shake? Even the Envoy’s Tyrant Overlord, a fifty-meter brute, wouldn’t have caused such a ruckus.

  Another shuddering tremor rocked the fortress, this one longer, accompanied by the high-pitched shriek of tortured metal. It sounded like a tower was being peeled open like a fruit. Whatever this was, my hope finally began to curdle into dread. No being this strong was here to rescue us. Perhaps it was an Envoy of the Goddess, here to reclaim the power bestowed upon us… to… finally end—

  ‘Beings of this Hold. A lost Spark remains here, and I will not leave until I reclaim them. You will not stand in my way.’

  The voice was the loudest, most certain quietness I had ever heard. Both Tris and Verra shifted, a collective shudder passing through us as the words bloomed directly in our minds. It wasn’t spoken. It was telepathy. And it had punched through the magic-suppressing field of our cell like it was tissue paper. The field that had been draining our mana, our very life force, for weeks. To bypass it…

  Another terrifying lurch shook the entire Fortress, followed by a profound, echoing silence.

  …

  …

  I felt both my companions tense beside me. The slow, solid click… click… click… of armored feet echoed down the hall. A sound we had learned to dread.

  Our Jailor.

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  “Arise.” He ordered. A tall, dauntless Demon of Death appeared at our cell, silhouetted against the torchlight. He had clearly seen battle. His obsidian armor was dented and crushed in several places, but he didn’t wince at all. “All of you.”

  “What—”

  “Now.” The Demon growled, wrenching the cell door open. A cool wave of air flooded the cell, carrying the first taste of ambient mana we’d had in what felt like a lifetime.

  Verra’s reaction was instant, primal. Before Tris or I could even process the feeling, a deep purple tear in reality opened before us. A writhing, pulsing tentacle of pure void erupted through the portal, slamming into the Demon and sending him careening down the hallway. He hit the distant wall with a wet, final thump and didn't move.

  “Xyth be praised… may you forgive this poor soul for not preparing you an offering for some time…” Verra croaked, her voice dry and hollow, barely audible… “That… Was the last spell I had…”

  I grunted, pain shooting through my tattered leg as I pushed myself up, pulling them both to their feet. They leaned on me, two broken pillars holding up a third.

  To the stairs…

  Several empty rooms, the doors torn from their hinges…

  The air grew colder as we finally reached the courtyard door. We could all feel it now, the immense pressure of whatever was just outside. With mana slowly trickling back into our veins, we could sense dozens of entities surrounding it, poised, ready… but utterly terrified.

  The light outside was a physical blow, blinding to our dungeon-acclimated eyes. The cold mountain air felt like a thousand tiny swords against our skin. As our vision cleared, we saw it. An unnatural phenomenon.

  The Envoy of Death, clad in the very same ensemble that had slain half our party, stood in the center of the courtyard. Their War Spear was shattered. The tectonic sword was in equal shambles. Their focus was entirely on the… Colossal. Gargantuan. Impossibly large Dragon before them. The creature’s body was barely inside the stronghold; its head, neck, and one massive, taloned paw had simply obliterated the outer wall. This creature landing here was what had shaken the fortress.

  What was more mind-numbing was that there was not a single wound, not a single scorch mark on its scales, or its… feathers? A Dragon of scale and feather. Nothing looked damaged.

  “The Spark has arrived.” The Dragon rumbled, the sound vibrating in our bones. Its gaze foolishly left The Envoy as a swirling sphere of cataclysmic darkness ruptured forth from the demon’s palm. The dragon didn’t even flinch. With a lazy flick of its gaze, the sphere simply… unravelled. It dissipated into harmless motes of light.

  “If you don’t wish for your reign to end now, that will be the last you test me.”

  “Sir Dragon, I implore you to end that monster’s life…” Tris coughed, gripping my shoulder harder, trying to pull himself to stand tall. “That monster…—”

  “I came not to change the timeline of this world, nor any other worlds.” The dragon rumbled once more. “To take on that mantle would disrupt Beings far stronger than I, Little, Fierce Spark.”

  I could see the pain contorting Tris’s face as I looked down at him, a clear, furious betrayal swelling in his eyes. He looked at the Envoy, standing so helpless before this beast… but it had called him a ‘Spark’...

  “You’re here to… Reclaim our powers. To… Strip us of our Blessings, and return them to the God’s?” Verra rasped, taking several weak steps forward.

  “I came for one reason only.” The dragon’s voice grew quieter. Its head, larger than a house, moved with impossible slowness. One massive, slitted eye glared at the Envoy, before its head turned towards us, stopping mere feet away. The warmth radiating from its body was like standing before a forge. It paid the Envoy no more heed than a wolf would a fly. “Your stories are over. But that doesn’t mean your lives are.”

  “What does that mean?” I spoke, pulling Tris along with me as I took several steps closer, my shoulder meeting Verra’s.

  “Nothing you do in this world will change it anymore. The End has begun.” The Envoy’s deep, rumbling growl ripped through the air. “You are to be sold.”

  “We… We’re Heroes, not cattle.” I mustered the strength to speak, but I felt Verra’s hand plant on my chest, halting me. “Verra…”

  “I’d rather die if it means that monster perishes.” Tris growled, glaring at the massive beast before us. “Tear my soul asunder, and plunge it into the deepest depths of Hell if… If it meant that things rule ends… I’ll offer anything, everything.”

  “I refuse.” The dragon’s voice rumbled through our bodies, a small exhale of air rustling our ragged clothes. “What I offer you is a choice. A Safe Haven that you may heal, and learn a new path. Never to return here.” The dragon paused, a slow blink of its nictitating membrane as its gaze shifted, landing on Verra. “Or to stay, to be at the whims of this being.”

  “I accept.” Verra murmured, a final breath of surrender escaping her before she collapsed, her hands and knees planting into the cold snow.

  “Verra!” Tris cried out, breaking from my side and falling beside her, cradling her head. “You… you can’t be serious! What about Vishna and Sellix!? Their dying wishes—”

  “They would want us to live.” Verra’s words felt like a horrible defeat for her, the agony she fought back to speak so… Plainly. “Tris I… I… I cannot feel Xyth’s power anymore. I cannot feel any of the Gods… They’re… Gone...”

  “What will you do with us, Dragon?” My voice rose, my hand instinctively going to my hip for a sword that wasn't there. “One who could rid this world of its evil, yet chooses not to? No one would simply buy us just for us to heal.”

  “It is simply that.” The dragon’s voice was as clear as a mountain spring, its gaze unwavering as it now peered into me. “I came here, sensing the feline male. But I am willing to harbor and provide solitude for all three… I see that, their spark fuels yours as well.”

  “What if I refuse!? We should fight—!” Tris bellowed, but a gentle caress from Verra silenced his words.

  “We only survived because of you… We can’t possibly leave without you.” Verra’s words grew quieter, her complexion growing paler…

  “What… What would you have us do, Dragon?” Tris hissed, a war raging inside him.

  “Do you accept, removing yourself from this Doomed World, never to return? To learn to live again?” The deep rumbling of the Dragon asked again, clearing away any delusions that might linger.

  “I—” Tris choked, glaring back up at the impossible creature.

  “Yes…” Verra murmured again, her gaze turning to me. “But… only if all of us go…”

  “That’s…” I swallowed hard, the sound loud in the cold air. I glanced between my two comrades, their broken forms trusting me to make the final call. I looked at the dragon before us… and then at the emotionless, dark being that had tossed us in that cell. “I… Yeah… I agree…”

  “Verra… Sid….” Tris cried, his fist slamming into the snow, a puff of white. “Fine… Dragon… take all three of us. But I will never forgive you for abandoning… everything.”

  The dragon tilted its head slightly, its gaze resting on Tris now. Tris’s tiny, furious reflection was clear in its massive, amethyst eye. The pain, the anger, the rage he held…

  “I understand. And I openly accept that responsibility.”

  It… agreed… with him. The sheer weight of that acceptance was staggering. Its massive head moved away again, turning back towards the Envoy. The scene around me grew heavy, a curtain of darkness falling over my vision, hitting me like a physical blow. Before I knew it…

  Free time to write, you say?

  Ignore the massive re-write of Days Gone I've been working on?

  Don't publish the several chapters of my Isekai I have in stock?

  'Hey, I like my work. Maybe someone else will as well.'