Raelana Demonslayer was silent for much longer than the confession called for, forcing me to beg for details.

  Did you accept his deal?

  “No.”

  So, you turned it down.

  “No.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to take a deep breath to focus, but mindfulness never works when your mind is full of irritation.

  Well, what was the third option you chose?

  “No choice was made. I never reached the negotiating table.”

  A golden flame sparked to life in the darkness behind my mind’s eye, flickering and expanding until it took on a humanoid shape. A teenager emerged, tall and slender, clad in gleaming plate armor with a sword at her hip. A half-cape draped down her entire left side, fastened to the side of her neck by an ornate clasp shaped like Euphridia’s star.

  “Perhaps it would be easier to speak directly,” Raelana suggested, gesturing with her free arm to two chairs that had appeared out of nowhere. “The other heroes may try to interfere, and I have a few things to discuss with you.”

  It took me a moment to realize I was also present within the darkness, somehow able to see myself and shape my spirit well enough to take the seat across from her.

  Transparent like always… but I didn’t get the gold glow like she did…

  I cleared my throat, figuratively. “Alright, tell me what happened.”

  Raelana nodded, a bitter sigh escaping her lips. “I would ask that you grant me grace during this recounting. Know that I was a product of my rearing, born from a long line of holy knights, with several amity-skilled siblings coming before me. Being declared the Chosen One at my True Naming came as little surprise. I was privileged, granted an exceptional education without ever needing to leave my family’s estate.”

  I shrugged slightly. “Alright, easy enough. Sheltered upbringing, got it.”

  “His letters came unsigned. At first, I thought they were like the usual appeals for financial aid, with promises of dividends in return. But these were different.”

  “Uh...”

  She twitched for a moment, then gave me a rather sharp glare. “Not like the other kinds of letters I received, which are typically not discussed in polite company.”

  “Sorry. Definitely not personal propositions, then.”

  For some reason, that filled me with a weird sense of relief.

  She let out a forceful sigh and dropped her gaze, propping her head up by placing the center of her right palm against her forehead. “He claimed he was involved in ambient animus research. According to him, he had discovered a method to solidify it, rendering its gaseous form inert for safe disposal. He demonstrated considerable enthusiasm when sharing his articles and insisted there were potential applications for energy conversion, with further implications that could aid my Purpose. However, he remained reluctant to elaborate further through written correspondence.”

  “Oh…” I sank into my chair a little and gripped the arms, seeing the proverbial trainwreck ahead.

  “The thought of inviting him to my family’s estate was never an option. Dark magic was simply not discussed there, and animus was only mentioned during training sessions on how to detect and respond to it. We agreed to meet quite a ways outside Chairo, and I… snuck out. Alone.”

  I leaned forward. “Then what happened? Did you get caught?”

  “Yes,” she nodded, rising to her feet, “but not by my family. I’m ashamed to admit it now, but I was overconfident. My earliest memories are of training with sword and shield, yet I had never faced demons before. Still, experience is the mother of all learning… assuming it doesn’t kill you outright.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  She reached up with her right hand and unfastened the clasp securing her cape. It slipped from her shoulders and vanished into the ether before it could touch the ground, revealing the stub where her left arm had once been.

  I gasped. “They cut off your—”

  “No,” she interrupted calmly. “But they did mangle it beyond repair during our encounter. I surrendered it to save the rest of me.”

  “I don’t understand,” I admitted. “None of the statues in Chairo show any hero missing an arm…”

  “The hero can never be broken,” she said, then softened. “Or at least, never depicted as broken. Only the Order of Gold knew of my injury. To the rest of the world, my iron prosthesis appeared as a gauntlet—and even then, it was often concealed behind my vestments—or in the case of battle, the Faith of Euphridia.”

  I was still trying to piece it together. “Wouldn’t the surgeon who removed it have known?”

  “Relias was the one who removed it,” she said as she lowered herself back into the chair.

  I flinched. “You mean he was the one who found you?”

  “No. I was discovered by a traveling merchant who had taken refuge in a nearby wooded area later that night. I believe I was unconscious for most of the return to Chairo. A few priests met us at the Outer Gates and did what they could while sending an urgent summons to His Holiness.” She took a breath, squaring her shoulders. “It was already dead by the time we arrived. But I insisted that no one must know of my failure in battle, and since Relias is known for performing miracles, neither of us was further questioned.”

  Yet I couldn’t hold back the most important question any longer. “And Olethros himself—he was among the demons that attacked you?”

  “No. However—”

  “So it could have been a different faction of demons!”

  Her golden glow flickered, then turned a piercing, icy blue. “They knew our meeting place. They were lying in wait. And they taunted me with the knowledge that their Dark Lord had deceived me!”

  “But you never questioned it?”

  She grimaced. “Once... then a second time.” She then held up a hand. “After recuperating, he attacked us directly, over and over again. He set traps in our path, struck at us when we were at our weakest, wore us down piece by piece. He hounded us across every mile of that cursed journey. And during every encounter, he made sure to mock us, asking how we ever hoped to defeat Epiales when we couldn’t even subdue him.”

  I folded my arms. “I don’t buy it. We’re missing something important.”

  Surprisingly, a wistful smile crossed her ghostly gold features. “Yes. You’re right. By the time I found it, it was too late. It would have been nice to freely discuss the situation with someone like you during my journey. But then again, you are also a product of my mistakes, so I will not dwell too much on my regret. Rather, let me reveal the final puzzle piece... if you consent for me to do so.”

  “Of course I do! You can’t stop in the middle of the story!”

  “Even if I did not write it in the manual, you realize how my story ends, correct? What you’re about to experience will not be pleasant by any means.”

  “I’m ready. Just tell me.”

  “I will let them tell it as best as I can.”

  As she bowed her head, her form faded into absolute darkness. With a sudden panic, I, too, found myself without form or function, unable to move or see.

  “At that point, my vision was gone, and my body had ceased to respond to my commands. But I could still hear. I still wonder if that part was intentional… or just another cruelty.”

  A quiet, high-pitched whistle rose and fell from somewhere, stuttering along with a dying heartbeat. A low growl sounded from far away and stretched out for several moments before sharpening into a loud, guttural scream, temporarily cutting off my ability to hear anything.

  “—summoned me, Great King of Nightmare?” Oltheros’s steady voice was filled with a respectful deference I had never encountered before.

  A loud buzz crackled, followed by a blood-curdling scream that lasted for several seconds.

  “My form is not yours to witness,” Epiales admonished with a deep snarl. “I told you never to behold my visage!”

  “Forgive me… Father…” was Olethros’s pleading whisper.

  “Father? No. You are not born from me. You are manifested from excrement!” the Demon King howled.

  The quiet whistling slowed, even as the accompanying heartbeat faltered.

  Raelana’s heartbeat.

  “Your plan failed, Lord of Trash. But even more than that, it reveals your multitude of weaknesses. Did you think I would not notice how well she knew of my skills?”

  Olethros did not, or perhaps could not, respond.

  “Those you trusted abandoned you long ago. You are not worthy of trust. None will ever serve you.”

  Strange barking came from everywhere, and it took me a moment to register that it was meant to be laughter.

  “I will admit I took great pleasure in the fight, but not so much so that I would let you go unpunished. Look upon your latest failure with your accursed eyes! See the extra suffering you have brought to the impostor. Rejoice in knowing that I still reign supreme!”

  A weak gasp.

  “She is… still… alive?” Olethros whispered, the sound drawn out and tortured.

  “Do not dare to look away. Stay there and watch her die. If you fail this assigned Purpose, I will call them here and absorb them both. It is nothing for me to destroy them. I will always be able to create others.”

  “Yes… Great King… of Nightmare…”

  “And remember,” the King’s voice thundered. “The only reason I will not absorb you is because you were formed only from my impurities. You will always and forever be less than nothing!”

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