Chapter 16
The Hero
Nothing about the truth that Warren spoke made any sense.
And yet, it was truth. The incontrovertible proof was right before his eyes. The body of the slain Academy student was gone, disappeared, and when Terrill looked to the floor where the dead soldiers from earlier had lain, there was not a single sign of them. He hadn’t noticed it in the confusion, but that lack of a body started to hit him like a ton of bricks.
How many more had he not noticed?
How many more people had been killed and disappeared as if they never existed at all?
Had he been so focused he never even noticed all those that had disappeared when he turned away?
“We’re not ghosts!” Torry shouted, and Terrill broke from his fugue. His hands tightened their grip on his sword. The ache in his shoulder returned. “We are flesh and blood people!”
“Why? Because you bleed? Is that all it takes to be a person?” Warren’s longsword retracted, slicing through the air with all of its bearer’s malevolence. He didn’t revel in satisfaction at revealing this grim piece of news, but nor was he upset at delivering it. “You cannot deny the proof before your eyes. Bodies do not just vanish, but souls…souls return to the cycle of souls that course through this world.”
“Warren, that’s enough!” Winifred dropped down, landing with a thud. She looked more than irked, and Terrill could feel his bones quivering from her presence. “No more needs to be said.”
“So, what are you saying?” This voice had come from Walter, the man standing with every effort. His widened eyes and quaking body belied his aggression, merely switching targets to be directed upon Warren and his companion. “Are you saying that the family I buried is no longer here? That the people I held in my arms with my own hands were lies?”
“They existed so long as to keep the flow,” Warren chuckled. He spun his sword, whipping at the sides of the trench, daring them to engage him. “Their souls lingered on the world just long enough until they were dead and buried. Out of sight, as directed by Dimidia.”
“What does my world have to do with this?” Terrill demanded. He felt winded, but was slowly regaining his wits. He couldn’t say for the others, with Torry shaking and Floyd gone catatonic over the current events. The only one unaffected was Krysta, who kept her stance tight and her face locked in a grim line.
“Dimidia is the dictator of all fate!”
“Warren, I said that’s enough!” Winifred was done talking. She sent a spear of wind hurling in her fellow Fiend’s direction. He broke it apart with but a single stroke. There was no doubt to Terrill: even with Winifred’s strength, Warren had far more training. He would not be denied this moment of gloating.
“I’m well aware of what not to say, Winifred. I’ve played at this game longer than even Invaria’s memory and know the rules.” Warren made sure that was the finality with which he spoke when both of his blades hit the ground with a mighty clang, a pool of water forming where they touched. “As I was saying, my young Guardian, Dimidia is the world of the physical, and Adversa, the ethereal. You are flesh and blood, and as a Blessed, your soul has integrated with your body. But your friends here…heh, well, they’re just the mere ether that makes up souls. On the other side, back in Dimidia, they go about their lives as if you never entered into them. Their true lives, I suppose I should say.”
Terrill hated how much that made sense to his brain.
Perhaps, if he had never known he was in another world, it would have meant nothing to him, or been seen as a trick, but too much of the evidence suggested it. There was too much screaming at him about the differences as more than just a simple thing like Golbrucht being missing, or magic being a thing. There had to be a common explanation linking all of those, and now Warren was providing it. Only a few details remained to sort through.
“If that’s the case, then what does it matter?”
“Because you’re a physical being in a world of souls, dear boy. And did you really think those two worlds could comingle without there being effects? You’ve fundamentally changed the lives of everyone here, you and your friends running amok. Did you think the world could sustain that delicate balance forever?” Warren tipped his head back, a booming laughter escaping. This time, he was taking joy in the revelation, and Terrill felt nausea replaced with a burning pit, roaring into flame. “But then again, I suppose they don’t matter. They’re just ether, after all. Kill them here, the physical lives on. Like that boy I just skewered; the only difference will be waking up in a world without magic, should the day come that they ever return.”
“What?!” Torry screamed. Krysta was alarmed by her reaction, but Terrill knew that he should have expected it. Magical energy radiated off the girl’s body, causing everyone but Terrill to give her a wide berth as she stepped forward, her eyes trained upon Warren. He quirked his eyebrow, curious to see what her violent outburst would accomplish. “So, you would strip him of his magic in this Dimidia? You would strip him of his very soul?!”
“I’m sure the Lifebloods would intervene. It’s all they’re good for. They’ll give him some semblance of a soul, of course. The human body cannot sustain itself without one. That’s why they must remain linked,” Warren explained, shrugging. He truly did not care, and it increased the storm coalescing around Torry. Her entire fist flashed with fire and lightning. “His soul has simply returned to the flow, one could say, and in time, if he is so fated, they will join. Magic is just a little cost.”
“Magic is everything to us! Firestorm!” Torry could not be stopped. She gripped her wrist, a scowl etching itself on her face, and then she fired. Fire and lightning comingled, a shot that Terrill felt raise goosebumps along his arms. Warren scoffed as he saw it barreling for him. He made no move to stop it, and Terrill lunged for Torry, grabbing her before the inevitable strike.
Winifred was the one to make it, her air a cleaving arc that sliced into the attack. It split in two and Terrill felt it collide against his back, making him grimace. The windy Fiend sighed. “Are you happy now, Warren? There was no need to tell him the truth about Dimidia and Adversa.”
“Mm, perhaps not, but I’m sure our Shadow King would most appreciate him having the knowledge at this point. After all, he wants you as an ally, Terrill Jacobs.”
“Yeah? You can tell Atrum to shove it!” Terrill pushed Torry back, right into Krysta’s arms and sent a row of stones soaring out. He didn’t stop there, darting between each of the emerging spires to confuse his opponents before jumping off the wall. His shoulder pained him, but Terrill still brought his sword crashing down on Warren’s. “I already told him, I won’t help him start a war!”
“Give it up, boy! There’s no point to preventing this war! They’re not people you’re saving! Just ether in the shape of those within Dimidia!” Warren flung Terrill off and he hit the wall, creating a stone beneath his feet to propel himself again. The others in the trench watched, unsure of what to do, while Krysta held Torry back from her furious frenzy. “Kill one today and it makes no difference! Whatever you think you’re trying to save, it means nothing! You need to break free of these chains!”
“They’re not just ether!” Terrill roared. His head was getting back on straight, Warren’s words rolling off him like rain on rock. Terrill’s sword thrust forward, cutting along the general’s shoulder. The Fiend flinched, but Terrill was too late to break off when Winifred’s foot slammed into his face. The cyclone burst out, sending him flying right into a shield. Torry was back on the move.
“Is that what you freaks are planning, then? Killing every soul to remove magic from the world?!” Torry snapped her fingers, sending fire and water rolling through the trench in equal measure. This time, it was Warren who moved, his swords connecting and spinning like a whirring shield that blew the attack away.
“The goddess already did that, herself.” Warren was colder than anything before, and Winifred spat at the mere mention of it. “Because believe me or not, you don’t have magic in the real world, girl.”
“Torry…he’s…he’s right…” It was the first thing Floyd had uttered since this had started, and Terrill looked at him. He was shaking, looking at his palms. The revelation appeared to have affected him as much as it did his girlfriend. “When I touched the Lifeblood, it poured…memories into me. Memories of a different life. One without magic.”
“Tying your body with your soul irrevocably, yet letting your soul linger on. How wastefully the Lifebloods allow humans to trample on.”
“Enough of this, Warren. I’m done talking.”
“As am I. There’s nothing more to be said, but what our King demands of us.” Warren’s swords disappeared, the man confident as he held a hand out. Terrill expected Winifred to look alarmed, but instead, written all over her face was a seething hatred for her companion, and a look of disdain for the rest of them. Perhaps, he also thought, there was a touch of envy in her eyes. “Terrill Jacobs, your role is done. Our liege thanks you. As the shadow rises, he offers this once: return home. We can take you there.”
“Terrill…” Krysta’s soft voice called to him as Warren continued to wait for his decision. The image of Atrum asking him to join forces on the Forsaken Hill burned bright in his memory. This, all along, had been his friend’s goal: to spark the war that would burn the world down. Now, he was saying it didn’t matter. That Terrill hadn’t really done anything. That they weren’t hurting people.
It should have confused him, but when Terrill’s eyes found Krysta, he was crystal clear in his head.
Torry tried to attack again, but Terrill’s sword came soaring out, cutting off her path. She was shocked at the sharp steel in her way, looking to Terrill, as did the others. It was doubtless they feared for his response to Warren.
“I don’t know the answers of why you Fiends have wanted to start a war, and part of me wants them so badly I can taste it,” Terrill said, his chest heaving with every breath it took to speak these words. “But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that I’ve spent time in this world. This…’Adversa’. That means I’ve gotten to know them. Their fears, their follies, their joy, their strengths, their anger, their sadness. All of it feels real to me. It doesn’t feel like some soul bouncing around the fancy prison of another world.
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“So, I don’t know what your game is, but I won’t allow it, whether it’s Dimidia, Adversa or otherwise. They’re still people, and I’ll be damned if I let you hurt another one of them!”
“Ugh, you’re always so naïve!” The rush of wind funneled through the trench at Winifred’s words, the Fiend purple-faced. Walter managed to hold his ground with his spear, but both Floyd and Torry were blown back as Krysta grabbed hold of a loose bar to prevent herself from being blasted with them. “It’s always about protecting people with you! The world isn’t so kind, Terrill Jacobs, and if you won’t just go home and stay where you belong, I’ll teach you that lesson myself.”
“Bring it on, Winifred, ‘cause where I belong is right here, between you and the people I care about.”
“T-Terrill…” Floyd’s stutter didn’t cause Terrill to look back, but stand up straighter. He was seeing clearer than ever, and the enemy in front of him was the most obvious target he could have wished for.
Warren sighed, shaking his head with disappointment as his blades returned, rippling in the sun that shined upon them. Terrill swung his blade forward, and addressed the people behind him. “Krysta, Torry, Floyd, there are people here in danger. Get them out. I’ll deal with the Fiends, myself.”
“Terrill, you know how strong they-”
“Just go!” Terrill shouted, not willing to put up with Krysta’s arguments. His eyes scanned the trench, finding the last of the cells where Warren and Winifred were standing, though the latter was floating. “They die, we fail. Now all of you, get your asses moving!”
“Winifred.”
“Hmph. No one’s leaving.” Winifred struck. From her palm came a roaring cyclone of wind set to batter everyone around the trench. Terrill yanked his sword upwards, calling on the stones from the wall to shoot out at her. Warren made no move to stop the attack, and there was good reason. Even while pouring forth her wind, Winifred dodged Terrill’s blow, ripping apart the stone and directing it with precision.
“Cancel!” The shout surprised Terrill. Before the wind could reach him or anybody else, another wind ripped into it, stilling it until there was no gusts at all. Terrill looked back to find Walter there, his spear glowing green and his breath ragged from exertion. “Would seem…my own wind has some use.”
“I thought you said you didn’t care for magic.”
“I also said I’d use any tool for my revenge,” the hunter said, twirling his spear around and standing by Terrill’s side. Small gusts fluttered around his figure, twinkling out of existence every few seconds to reflect his unstable hold on them. “Magic exists in all souls, does it not? Well, then, if I’m a soul, then I will use the gift given to me to hunt those who destroyed my family. Including these Fiends, or whatever you call them.”
“Please. Try. Nothing pleases me more than extinguishing another soul on the road to burning Invaria down,” Warren said, a hard chuckle taunting Walter to making the first move. Terrill blew out, but decided to be grateful at the assistance from the man, so long as he kept his cool.
“We buy them as much time as possible,” Terrill muttered, waiting to see Walter nod in receipt of the message. “No room for slip-ups or anger against these guys. Hit them hard, hit them fast.”
“And hit them now!”
Winifred had made the first move, her wind propelling her forward. She aimed straight for Walter, her vindictive nature on full display. He didn’t give her the chance, planting his spear and with a short, if uncontrolled, burst of wind, he sent himself into the air. Walter twisted, aiming his spear down, its shape expanding. Winifred twisted, her legs snapping through midair into Walter’s face. He was thrown into a wall, and Terrill picked up the slack.
“Stone Pummel!” Terrill clapped his hand against the smooth side of the trench. Pillars emerged and converged on Warren’s body. This time, the general smirked and ducked low, his body bending at impossible angles. His cut was swift, and Terrill’s pillars were broken.
He was not.
Terrill leapt over his own creations, his fist shining with magic that he brought crashing on to Warren’s face, driving him towards the ground. The Fiend was sturdier than most, smiling through the pain, and Terrill saw what was coming next. A dart of wind shot out for him, and Terrill spun off, dropping to the ground as it flew past, into a cell where one of the dignitaries was cowering.
“What are you still doing here? Move!” Terrill shouted. The boy inside trembled, shaking his head as his legs looked like jelly. Behind them, Krysta was moving with Torry from cell to cell. It took notice from Warren.
“Drown.” Warren’s blade transformed into a whip, slung round and round until a gushing torrent came pouring forth, set to flood the trench once more. Terrill grimaced. Walter crouched into a leaping spring for Winifred. The two met, with each keeping the other occupied.
“Shield!” Terrill shouted, ducking low to press both his hands to the ground. The stone barrier sprang up and, with another movement of his hands, it went flying for Warren. It hadn’t made contact before it was broken apart by Warren’s flood, though his attack ended. Terrill reached into the cell and grabbed the frightened boy, one of the last ones to be ushered. “Get moving, or do you want to die?”
“N-no! Eep!”
His squeak was informative. Winifred had gotten the upper hand, one of her cyclonic kicks driving into Walter and sending him into the broken stairs. He groaned, but managed to hold on, blood running down his face from a stone that struck his head. As soon as her action was completed, Winifred fired a black spear of wind for the boy that could not move.
There was no time for Terrill to create a defense, so he did the next best thing. He ran to intercept the spear with his sword, only for his arm to send a spasm of pain through it. His movement halted, and the shot of wind cut into Terrill’s gut.
“Hah!” he cried out, burning pain arcing through his entire abdomen. It was just like Blaise’s fire, but somehow worse, as if something was inside Winifred’s attacks this time that he hadn’t felt before.
“Of course, you would…” she scoffed. Terrill wanted the chance to recover from the blow, but with both Fiends facing him down, there was no time for that. With everything he could, Terrill grabbed the boy and gave him a shove, right into Krysta’s arms.
“Get them out of here. Walter and I will deal with them,” Terrill insisted. He stomped the ground once again before Krysta could object. The walls filled in, and the cells with them, now empty of all their prisoners. In seconds, Terrill, Walter and the Fiends were cut off from his escaping friends. “Just you and us, now, assholes.”
“Noble, but I expected no less,” Warren said. Walter leapt at the Fiend from behind, but with a simple stab behind, the man was caught in the shoulder and tossed to the side. It didn’t look the same as what had happened with Blaise, and Terrill looked down to his wound, the dark shadows whispering around it. “You must have realized by now that you cannot win this fight. You’re tainted.”
“That what you Fiends are capable of?” Terrill asked. He clasped to his side, hoping to staunch the bleeding, but finding no such luck. This was a fight he’d have to finish if he wanted to get any attention for the wound.
“Of course, your Guardianship,” Winifred snapped. Her tones were harsh, conveying a bitterness that was not at all the mocking self she usually was, no matter how her words suggested it. “We are a gaping wound on the world, the shadow lying beneath the surface. Tied by the shadow’s strings. If the Blessed are light, we are the dark, equal and opposite. And bound by his darkness, it means we can extinguish your light! Cyclone Spear!”
With a fling of her fingers, Winifred fired. Terrill noticed how different her wind was, a black breeze of cutting air, solidified into the form of a spear; the color was the distinction. This time, Terrill’s arm didn’t slow him down and he slashed it with his sword. Soon as he had finished, Warren was in his space, his sword aiming for the other side of Terrill’s body.
“Well, Winifred, now who’s talking too much? Hm?”
“Shut it, Warren!” Terrill snapped his sword to the side, blocking Warren’s hit. The force of it drove Terrill against the wall, aggravating his wound. Winifred struck, her fingers becoming like claws of whirring wind that wished to impale him.
Terrill saw the glint of the spear first, and before she could hit, he ducked. Her claws cracked into the wall, breaking the stone before the spear impaled her side. Winifred screamed, thrown against the stone of Terrill’s creation. Walter came swooping down, snatching his spear and bringing it whirling around.
“Maelstrom!” With both palms outstretched, the orb of wind was created in Winifred’s hands and then blasted outward. Walter was caught in its air and thrown high into the sky, crying out from the force that impacted his bones.
“Circle Spike!” Terrill, already crouched low to the ground, plunged his sword in, and within the radius surrounding him, a ring of spikes formed. Each emerged simultaneously to strike for the Fiends, but neither was harmed. Warren whipped them apart, while Winifred shot upwards in the air. She flew for Walter’s falling body and kicked at him. The man held his spear in front to block it. His novice magic was no match for it, no matter how he worked it to cancel her gales. Walter was catapulted downwards, and Terrill moved.
“Surge.” Warren’s attack came from the puddles on the ground, the snapping snakes nipping at Terrill’s ankles. The Guardian used what he could to climb his spikes and leap for Walter. “Stream.”
That was the attack that Terrill hadn’t seen coming. No sooner had he reached Walter and grabbed him, than Warren’s sword became that of a pressurized water jet. It struck Terrill’s leg, pitch black in color, and Terrill screamed out again. He fell to the ground, dropping Walter and clenching his teeth from the pain that made his bones scream out. “Hah. Hah…Ah…”
“I see you haven’t changed one whit, Terrill.” Winifred landed, her scowl making her harsher and more unforgiving than ever before. “Still leaping to save those who don’t matter. Still trying to save people you can’t. Didn’t I tell you there’s no point to that? That I hate people like you?”
“Why should I…care what…you…you think?” Terrill dragged his foot up, blood and shadow both leaking from it. His hands were shaking, his eyes watering from the pain, but still he stood. His hands moved up the grip of his sword, hoping it would hold steadier.
“This way! The general’s over here!”
Winifred didn’t care about the arriving soldiers, and in fact, Terrill began to wonder what she cared about at all. Everything before seemed to be just an act, but this time, this harsh, unforgiving face appeared to show the truth in her. This side that rejected any sort of goodness in the world. Terrill’s sword cleft into the ground, supporting him as he stood.
“You’re just a naïve boy, thrown into a world you don’t understand,” Winifred said, walking closer to him as her hands spun with wind. Warren watched with amusement, waiting and observing the conversation. “You try to play hero at every turn, never caring for the lives you’re trampling over, or if you can do it. You’re not strong, and you can’t stop a damn war. You’re a child!”
Winifred kicked into his stomach before he could recover, sending him crashing into the wall. His back slammed against it, drawing a cough from his lips. Walter groaned on the floor, trying to recover himself. The clanking of the soldiers’ armor told Terrill how close they were. A nasty frown rose on Terrill’s face, and he heaved his sword with what strength he could, sending a spire Winifred’s way that she broke apart. Terrill hacked out.
“So what?” he said. He stood on both legs, shakily maintaining his balance as he glared at the woman before him. “I’d rather keep fighting and protect everyone than to become twisted and bitter like you.”
“You can’t protect everyone!” Winifred made sure he received the message. The soldiers had arrived at the top of the dirt surrounding the trench, right into the open attack. With a flick of her wrist, Winifred sent the arc of wind raging upwards, one that would have slashed them all in two.
Terrill reacted on instinct. His magic pooled at his feet, the remaining amount that he could, and with a groan, it created a pillar that lifted him up faster than her wind could carry itself. He leapt between the soldiers and the attack, his sword set to take the brunt of the damage.
Wind collided with steel, and Terrill groaned, feeling his hands shaking. He couldn’t hold much longer.
Then the second shot came, this time from Warren, striking straight through his stomach.
“Gah!” Terrill gasped, his eyes bulging from the newest pain, and his sword fell, the wind now slicing across his chest. He could do nothing to stop it, falling back into the trench and rolling along until he was stopped by Winifred’s feet. She kicked him, sending him back until he was lying on his stomach.
“You throw yourself into every attack, thinking it saves everyone. How like him…” Terrill coughed, blood spilling from each of his wounds, and the shadow along with it. His hands clawed at the ground, pushing up and slipping from the blood on them until he finally managed to scrabble to his knees. “I hate that you think you can. I hate that you remind me of that part I want to cut out. So, I’ll teach you like I should have taught you at Devil’s Haven: you can’t protect everyone. You can’t even protect yourself!”
“I don’t…care…” Terrill wheezed through the pain. He looked up, his defiant glare sharpening on Winifred as she loomed over him. Holding fast, she became the one clear thing in a blurry world, all his energies focused on defying her. “I don’t care…what pain I go through… I don’t…
“A life is a life…A soul…a soul. I will protect them. That was my oath…as…a Guardian.”
Winifred stopped, the two staring at each other, and Terrill could see the hesitation. It was fleeting, but there as she watched him glare at her. Then, she snapped. Her words grew cold, and scarily familiar. “Then die like one.”
With another slash of her wrist, a black crescent gale bloomed across Terrill’s chest, and blood erupted into the air.
Terrill Jacobs fell.