Chapter 2: Unwilling Guide

Sera’s steps echoed softly in the vast corridor, a stark contrast to the thunderous march of the guards flanking her. She allowed herself a moment to savor the fleeting taste of liberty, her pace deliberately easing. Yet, this small act of defiance was met with a harsh push from behind, a stern reminder of her constrained situation.

“Keep moving, Houseless,” the guard snapped, his voice a harsh command that drew Sera’s gaze to her shackled hands. Black metal bands encircled her wrists, stark against her pale skin, while chains linked each shackle to the collar at her neck—applying a tangible limit to her cosmic potential. They allowed her just enough energy to sustain life, yet not nearly enough to summon her powers. She clenched her hands into fists, feeling the bite of the cold iron, before slowly releasing the tension, a silent act of defiance.

“How long has it been?” Sera mused, her thoughts adrift in the sea of memories. She could still hear the cacophony of battle, the acrid scent of charred timber, the wails of the fallen. The memories were vivid: standing shoulder to shoulder with her mother, blades and shadows their allies in the fray. Her mother, a whirlwind of steel, cleaved through the enemy as Sera’s own sorcery summoned specters to sow chaos. Then came the blinding light, a pain so fierce it brought them to their knees. And the final memory seared into her mind—the look of defiance on her mother’s face, moments before the executioner’s sword claimed her life. Vengeance had been her vow, a vow that fueled her rage from the instant the shackles bound her. But as the years passed, the fire of her anger dimmed, despair crept in, and at last, like the final ember in a dying hearth, it faded to nothing.

Jolted from her reverie by a forceful push, Sera found herself before a towering metal door, which emitted a faint hiss as it swung open. Within the chamber stood a diminutive, gaunt figure. His scalp was bare, ears tapered to sharp points, and his skin draped loosely from his jawline. Dark robes enveloped his frail form, swaying gently with his movements. Dominating the wall behind him was a grim painting: a muscular warrior triumphantly brandishing a woman’s severed head in one hand, a sword in the other. The man pivoted towards Sera, his lips curling into a smile. “I’m so happy that you have decided to accept my invitation, Sera,” he intoned, his eyes tracing the contours of her wasted figure. “It’s been too long since we have spoken to one another.”

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Sera bowed her head, her voice steady and clear. “Overseer, I see the years have been kind to you.” Despite the torture and neglect that had ravaged her body and spirit, her mind remained unyielding. She treaded a delicate line with her veiled barbs. Lifting her gaze, she studied the Overseer, bracing herself for whatever fresh hell he had concocted.

The Overseer’s laughter was a cold echo in the chamber as he cast a fleeting glance at the grim portrait. “Indeed, kinder to me than to your mother, wouldn’t you say?” His eyes, sharp and calculating, returned to Sera. “A new world is being welcomed into the Nexus, and the Godlings have bestowed upon me the honor of supervising its integration. As is customary, they are assigning guides to assist the newcomers—Humans, as they are termed. Despite their meager cosmic strength, the Godlings seem intent on affording them a chance. They’ve even forwent the potential of three other planets to bolster Humanity’s prospects.””

“How does that affect me,” Sera asked cautiously.

The Overseer’s words fell upon Sera like a sentence, his tone devoid of warmth. “I have decided that you will be a guide this time,” he declared. “I know how you enjoy being a guide, and it’s about time that you get to see everything that you will be missing.” His laughter, a sound devoid of joy, echoed in the chamber, a harbinger of the trials that awaited Sera.

“No,” she said. “I won't do it again. I can't watch another fall!” She fought weakly against her restraints. Tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to face down her face.

It was evident by the sound of the overseers laugh that he was thoroughly enjoying watching her begin to shatter. He knew that her past experiences being a guide had been torture for her. The overseer himself hand-picked the weakest of the species, the one who would die the fastest, for her to guide. With a snap of his fingers, Sera's eyes rolled into the back of her head as she fell to the ground. “Take her to the guide chamber and make sure she's properly connected,” he said to the guards picking her up off the floor.

The overseer turned back to the painting, hes eyes tracing over every inch of the image. The war he had waged on against Sera's people had been a long and bloody one. Even at the death of their queen, the remnants of the broken people fought back until he had effectively eradicated the last few pockets of resistance. Now her people were broken and scattered, the princess his plaything, and he enjoyed torturing her.