Each beat of my heart was echoing in my ears, faster and faster, as I forced my path through the underwood. Much of the way to the dungeon had been cleared thanks to the combined work of the order and the adventurers, especially the earth mages, but there were still some trees and shrubs left to block my way. Still, I forced my way onward, ignoring all of the undergrowth that tried to make me fall, my aching muscles, the blood I tasted in my mouth, the burning wounds I had in my chest and abdomen, and the arrows buried into my flesh. I wouldn’t, no, I couldn’t fall. Not like this.
It had only been an hour since we had left the camp with the prisoner, after a long night of Aspen and his close aides interrogating her. He had personally tasked us with bringing her to the temple so she could be judged in front of the gods. We actually had a horse with us, tasked with transporting a chest filled with the maps and documents describing every detail of the dungeon we had explored, but that poor animal had died first, not even getting to take a single more breath as a crossbow bolt dug itself straight into its head. It hadn’t even fully collapsed to the ground when Marcus, the squad commander, shouted that there was an ambush.
The attackers only now showed themselves, rising from the undergrowth in which they had hidden, to both sides of the makeshift road. The men were wearing thick robes, each single one of them colored to help them hide in the shrubs and bushes they had used for their ambush and not even allowing me to clearly see their faces. It was obvious they had heavy armor hidden under the cloth, with only their weapons being visible right now – swords and heavy crossbows, the latter of which clearly used for military purposes only, as they were too cumbersome and slow to reload when it came to other tasks.
You couldn’t see many of these weapons in Aurent, as they were thought of as highly dishonorable, a peasant's way of bringing down noble paladins and knights, but these men were anything but that.
Sadly, it was exactly this choice of weaponry that gave them the upper hand. I heard Marcus call for us to attack, shouting at us to focus on the more numerous men to our left, likely to limit their chances to attack our weaker back, but before he could even begin his charge, there was the snap of more than a dozen crossbows, followed by the whizzing sound of bolts cutting through the air.
There was a clang, and I felt myself stumbling, one of the bolts dug deep into my left shoulder. But I caught myself as I continued charging towards the man who had attacked me, who was trying to discard his now useless weapon. Before he could even reach for his sword, I was already upon him, screaming as I brought my sword down again on his head. He dropped to the ground immediately, his legs just giving in, but I didn’t get the chance to celebrate my tiny victory, as my next opponent was already onto me, this time prepared and ready to behead me with his blade.
I narrowly blocked his swing with my sword, deflecting his next one and going in for the kill, leaving him unable to defend himself as I struck his helmet with a resounding clang. He sank to his knees, having dropped his sword and now holding his head, clearly defeated, and I was just about to end him when something heavily impacted my body, then a second time, both attacks taking my breath away. Then there was a third, impacting my helmet from the side, but somehow failing to penetrate it. It was this one that settled it, as my strength left me almost immediately.
My hand let go of my sword as I stumbled backward, my whole head ringing. I made it two, then three steps, before sagging to the ground. The next thing I knew, I was already lying in the dirt, my own blood filling my mouth and with the bolt in my shoulder driven even deeper into my flesh. One of the men was approaching me, cursing under his breath, before brutally kicking me in the side. He then stepped on my hand, trying to crush it under his boots, but I gritted my teeth, denying him this victory. I laid still, not moving a muscle as he tortured me with his attack.
It was dishonorable, it was wrong, but I just couldn’t find the courage to try to lift my defeated body up to attack him back or at least shout at him, insulting him and giving him a reason to at least give me a quick death. Instead, I laid still, enduring the shame and excruciating pain that came with him stepping on my hand, seemingly trying to crush it under his boot.
Seconds went by, every single one longer than the next as I grit my teeth, but then he suddenly let go of me, having decided that I was long gone. Tears rolled down my face by now, mixing with the blood, mud, and dirt in front of my eyes, but I was safe, at least for now.
A deathly silence spread out, only interrupted by the sounds of swords meeting flesh, every single attack making sure there were no survivors. This alone told me everything I knew. Marcus, Mats, Rob, Sam… all of them were gone. They had been slaughtered like animals, brought down by weapons that betrayed everything they stood for, and knowing we had failed in our duty.
“Job's done, ya think that…” A voice reached my ears. “Whit wis his name? Hagrid?”
“Honry, ya daft eejit. Noo hurry up an' tak' th' stuff, that lassie too. At least we can hae some fun on th' way, hehehe…”
“Nae fun the day,” another voice shut them off. “She's o' th' foxkin th' boss blabbered aboot. Could be vallyable tae him as lang as she's willin' tae gab, so keep her willin'.”
The men continued talking, their voices burning themselves deep into my soul. Were they really bandits? Failed adventurers?! This dialect… this language… they weren’t from Aurent at all! They were Sebasian! I hadn’t seen any coat of arms, and neither the colors of their army, so it was unlikely they were the vanguards of a real army, but somebody must have supported them – they were fitted with proper armor and weapons! And then there were these cursed crossbows, weapons only Sebasi would proudly bring to the battlefield. You would be hard–pressed to find a single one sold in Aurent, as they were sold under the table at best, and certainly not at draw weights capable of penetrating a knight’s armor.
There were more voices, more things being talked about, and various magic spells being cast, likely in an attempt to destroy evidence, but I could no longer listen, my whole mind focused on surviving and not uttering any of the thousand curses that threatened to slip my quivering lips.
Minutes passed like that, not a single one of them realizing I was still alive, and then they disappeared, their steps rapidly becoming more and more silent, leaving only the wind and my own heartbeat drumming in my ears. All of us, me, my friends, and my comrades, we had been nothing but small bumps in the road for these men, a mere nuisance they could get rid of at a moment’s notice. I would never forgive them for thinking that way…
I waited for another minute before daring to move, watching left and right, before lifting myself up. What surrounded me could only be described as hell. More than a dozen men lay on the ground, all of us and eight of the ambushers, making the losses almost equal in numbers. Every single one of my friends and comrades was lifeless and robbed of their possessions as if the attackers had tried to stage a bandit attack. They still had their armor, but this didn’t help drying my tears, as it merely had been too cumbersome for those men to carry our armor with them. As for our swords, our pride? They were all gone, likely to be destroyed and reforged until it was no longer recognizable who it had belonged to...
Aside from my friends and comrades surrounding us, there were also the corpses of the attackers, all of them with vicious cuts and slashes found on the parts of their bodies their armor had failed to cover. It was them who had suffered the worst, being left behind by their comrades, with both their cloaks, armor, and weapons being stolen, leaving behind shabby, roughened clothes that could very well belong to the bandits they had tried to mimic.
While it was true that the attackers looked poor now, their appearance couldn’t explain the crossbow bolts that were still stuck in my flesh, that were still found in the bodies of the men who had fought at my side. Bandits had no reason to attack us. We didn’t carry valuables other than our sword and armor, and they would be hard–pressed to find use for those without putting a giant target on themselves. The maps and paintings the exploration raid had created were plain worthless to such men as well, as they couldn’t reasonably be turned into coins – not in Aurent. Only the fact that they had taken the woman was fitting the image, as bandits were known to commit the most heinous acts against those who couldn’t hope to fight back. But going by the few words I had caught, they hadn’t planned on abducting her in the beginning, it was just a welcome surprise for them. As such, it was highly unlikely they knew who she was and what she had done just hours prior.
For all I knew, the godless heathen hadn’t been attacked at all, I couldn’t even remember hearing her screaming once as we fought for our lives. And even if she didn’t have the magical shackles forced onto her, every single one enchanted to prevent her from using her magic, it was highly unlikely she would have chosen our side, as we had essentially been tasked to send her to her death. As such, she had probably watched it all happen with a smile on her face, knowing that whatever would happen to her was better than what awaited her at the temple.
My heart was still beating and I was still breathing despite all of their attempts to leave no witnesses and I wasn’t about to give up. Not before I had reached the camp, not before I had told Aspen what had happened.
It was only due to my cowardice that I had been given this chance. Just because I was not man enough to defend my brothers till the end. Somehow it had paid off, as I had overheard them talking as they stood in the middle of the corpses their ambush had left behind, but I would carry that burden on my heart for the rest of my days…
Even now as I forced my way back to the camp, stumbling over roots and vines almost every other step, my mind was clouded with other possible outcomes, with all the things I could have done differently. If we had just been slightly faster, if we had just been given a few more seconds, maybe the whole ordeal would have ended in a better outcome, one that would make for a good story to be told over a mug of ale rather than be confessed to grieving families. But it was far too late for any of that. The only thing I could do now was to make sure people would know about what happened, about who had caused all of this. Sadly, there was not much I could tell them…
It took me another few sheer endlessly long minutes to reach the meadow surrounding the Dragon Tooth, the picturesque mountain that was home to the dungeon we had explored. By now, my vision was playing me tricks, with blood streaming from all my wounds and my steps wavering. I felt lightheaded as if I could collapse at a moment’s notice, but I wasn’t about to give up, not now, not when I was this close.
Luckily, I was soon discovered, with several comrades already running towards me at this very moment, every single one ready to help me. Within a minute, I was already lifted towards the camp, two of my friends keeping me from collapsing right then and there. Seeing my many wounds, they shouted for the healers, over and over again, until finally, I could see three blurry silhouettes rapidly approaching, seemingly heeding their calls. Blinding lights flashed before they had even reached me, with holy magic flooding my body the very next second. The other healer pelted me with water spells, which quickly forced their way under my armor, encroaching onto the wounds as if every single droplet was alive and ready to hunt down my wounds one by one.
Neither of the men dared to touch the crossbow bolts, and I was more than thankful for that, because I really, really needed a drink before they made any attempt to force them out. But before that, I needed to reach Aspen and tell him about everything that I had heard.
I told my friends just that, taking them aback. They tried to talk me out of it, tried to force me onto one of the tables, so they could begin working on removing my armor and the bolts, but I fought against them with all my might. It was only when another man approached us, looking as fuzzy as all the panicking men and women surrounding us, that my mind changed. Even with my vision playing me tricks, I somehow recognized his face, his armor, his hair… When he then called out for me, asking me to calm down, I did just that.
“What happened?!” He asked, his voice ringing in my head, almost immediately causing a headache.
“The– there was… ambush,” I answered, trying my best to fight against the voices in my head that screamed at me to just close my eyes and sleep. “...think I saw… robes… mages… crossbows…” I felt tears gather in my eyes as I remembered the cruel fate of my friends and comrades. “All of them… they are dead…”
Hearing this, Aspen cursed. He ordered the mages to give me another shot of magic, so I would stay awake a little longer, and they certainly did a good job at that, as I felt my body suddenly becoming energetic, just enough for my story to be heard…
“Who was behind it?!” He now asked. “Did they have any signs? A coat of arms? Anything?!”
I coughed, producing a mouthful of blood. “They talked… in Sebasi… I– I think… their boss… his name is… It is Hagrid.”
Aspen shook me, trying to keep me awake. “Hagrid? Are you sure?”
“Ye– no… that isn’t… it was… Honry? I believe they said…”
“Honry?! Are you sure they said Honry?! Who is he?! Is he siding with Seman?! Is he with the King?! Answer me!”
Tears ran down my face as I realized I couldn’t answer his question, despite desperately wanting to make the name of the murderers known. Even though it happened barely an hour ago, maybe even less, my memory was fuzzy even now. It was playing tricks on me, tricks that seemed to drive just another blade into the hearts of my comrades, making their sacrifices in vain. With each breath I took, I seemed to forget more and more. My head was feeling so light, even with the healers trying to keep me awake even to this minute. Was it really Hagrid? Henry felt so familiar… no, it was Honry. Wasn’t it?
“I don’t know,” I heard myself cry out. “I don’t know!”
Aspen cursed again, but he realized I couldn’t help him, despite desperately wanting to do so. So, after ordering the healers to save me at all costs, he was already shouting orders to my comrades who were staring at me from all sides. All of them began moving at once, readying themselves to march against the criminals who had dared to touch their friends. I wouldn’t fight at their side, not today, maybe never again…
A little bit of rest sounded so good right now…
⮝ ⮝
⮜— – —⮞
Dozens of pairs of eyes were watching me as I made my way through the camp, looping around the same few houses again and again as if moving my feet would give me answers. It certainly helped me clear my head, but it wouldn’t help me out of my mess – not this time.
I had lost seven good men today, eight even, depending on whether or not Aldric would survive the day. Every single one of them had served under me for many years. We had trained together, eaten together, and told each other about our families and dreams. For all of them to simply perish for nothing? Near a town as safe as Abervale? How could I accept that?
Despite sending the best men I had remaining, other than Alfred, who had about the best reason I could think about to be absent, I had nothing to show for their sacrifice. Sarah, the ink mage was already trying her best to lower the damage, by redrawing everything she could remember, but it was clear as day that she wouldn’t be able to match the level of details her original work had. If anything, these copies wouldn’t even be enough to cement our claims over the dungeon – it was as if we had never explored it in the first place.
Knowing that, I could only curse and have her work on more important matters for now – the documentation of the damage done to the statue. By now, there would be little to no traces left of what the lunatic had done, as dungeons healed over time like a living being, regardless of what you did to them, and as long as their heart, the dungeon core, was still in one piece. This knowledge, I had spent minutes driving into Jona’s numb skull, over and over again, so even she would know that her best attempts of getting her misled revenge were bothering a deity for a few hours at best. She had cried when hearing that, every single tear almost painfully satisfying to me and my men who had seen the worst in this woman.
By now, Sarah had finished the first few of her paintings. They looked slightly different from the originals, likely because she couldn’t just go into the dungeon and repaint them with a fresh image in her head, but she at least had all the details right, all the insults the vandal had carved into the once pristine marble. This knowledge, at least, was a small beam of sunlight on this otherwise rainy day. Even if the heathen had escaped the trial, her crimes would be made known in the whole kingdom, with every single detail being laid out for all to see, including her friends and family. She would become a fugitive, searched for by all of Aurent, but what would that amount to, if those attackers had really come from Seba, which would have no intention of aiding our investigations?
I couldn’t help but curse. If Seba really was involved in this mess, things would undoubtedly escalate from here on out. The question was only how soon things would start crumbling down. With them killing paladins already by this point, men who are serving no kingdom but our deities alone, there was no saying how long it would take for them to straight up attack the camp instead. It was likely we had the advantage in numbers right now, as they would have long made their moves if it wasn’t that way, but how much longer would that be true?
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
No, I should not make assumptions before my men return. Even if they had been speaking Sebasi, that didn’t mean the Sebasian royalty was involved in any of this. Those attackers could have been mere mercenaries, hired by basically anyone that had the coin to pay for their services. This fact alone would exclude that girl’s father, since he had even pawned off some of his possessions to fund his impious research, making him a comparatively poor man despite his standing, but a gut feeling was telling me he was somehow involved in all of this.
Whoever it was who was behind all of this, he had upturned the morale in the camp. The news of the attack had long made the rounds, with every single adventurer in the know. And although the earth mages had long finished their work of adding proper defenses, those wouldn’t hold long against a full assault of specialized enemy mages. We did not know if the attackers had any of those with them, as Aldric passed out before I had the chance to ask, but people would naturally assume the worst in any given situation. As such, the hired men and women were already restless by now, some of them openly talking about whether or not staying here was good for them.
I couldn’t blame them for that thought. Sure, we had already begun constructing proper wooden houses for some of them, to entice them to make this their permanent residence, but they were not bound by law to defend this remote place till their dying breaths. If anything, it was expected for adventurers to make a run for it as soon as things turned sour. We knew that, and we still hired them despite it.
The men under my command didn’t have that luxury. They had sworn themselves to the gods, after all, and every single one was going to uphold their oath, for better or for worse.
Other than their word to serve the temple and the whole pantheon, every single one of us had chosen a deity to dedicate our sword to, one that would help us fulfill our duty and aid us in battle, allowing us to use faith magic in the first place. For my family, this was Veritas, the Goddess of Order, Oath, and Promises, and she had been so for countless generations. But right now, I was questioning the choice of following the footsteps of those who came before me.
Sure, Veritas had made me stronger, she had given me the ability to persist and grow, thus allowing me to become the leader of the order despite many capable men being in line for that position. But right now, I felt a different calling, one the goddess would hopefully forgive me for pursuing. If those bastards really wanted to take this town, if they really wanted to slaughter my men and take the dungeon for themselves, I would proudly stand in their way, serving the very goddess they had come to tarnish. Cilia was weaker than any other deity, that much every single one of my men knew, but most of us had still been accepted by such a goddess, her divine magic filling our bodies, altering them, and welcoming us into her family. Even the most devout of us could live a lifetime without ever receiving the goodwill of our chosen deities, our holy magic the only token of them at all acknowledging our existence, but her? She had practically reached her hand out for us.
I was more than willing to accept it.
Having made this decision, I made my way towards the dungeon, knowing that the settlement was safe at least for now, as any attack would likely come in the cover of the night, following days of thorough planning.
I informed the men at the guard booth about what I was going to do, before advising them to inform me should anything change. Then, I was already making my way through the tunnel, my sword glowing with Veritas’ magic for one last time. Due to me losing most of my strength after my defeat, this little trick was about everything I was still capable of doing. My sword would still cut sharper, especially against monsters and those working to upturn the natural order, but any good armor would give me trouble.
I wasn’t losing much by starting anew. If anything, this seemed to be the perfect chance to do so. And when I thought of it, I had already fulfilled my oath anyway. I had served Veritas for a full life, and now that I had lost it in this dungeon, doing what I knew was right, I would serve the goddess who had gifted me my second one.
A soft smile grew on my lips as I reached the prayer hall and took a good look at the statue. It was almost perfectly pristine again. Not only had the dungeon absorbed the filth the woman had brought with her, but it had also patched up the scars her blade had left behind. Now instead of insults and curses, only her name and titles could be seen. Even her fingers, every single one broken off in an act of ungodly fury, had almost fully regrown by now. They were still looking off, missing their tips, but it was only a question of hours before even the last remainder of her attack was forever gone.
I walked up to the statue, silently thanking the dungeon for bringing it back to this condition, before reaching towards my neck, pulling forth the necklace most of my men didn’t even know I was wearing. It was made out of cheap steel, durable enough not to tear easily, but it was the signet ring attached to it that was the real ‘treasure’. Crafted out of Aurumn and adorned with the head of a dragon, it was the perfect tool to remind me of my father and his schemes.
The Lowee household always had a tradition of keeping signet rings carrying the symbol of our family, the Sylvan Crestwing Owl, but it was my father who had turned this long–kept tradition into a farce by using these dragon heads instead, going as far as to even enchant each single ring so they would produce a small flame if you forced your mana into the small ruby that acted as the dragon’s eye. It was his way of ensuring his name and title of Richard ‘the Dragon’ would forever be immortalized, making the whole tradition about him.
I shook my head as I placed the necklace down on the statue’s pedestal, thus cutting the last string that still connected me to the family I had left behind. I then knelt, closed my eyes, and, using my very past as my offering, prayed for Cilia to accept me as her sword.
The goddess answered almost immediately. Not even seconds after I had finished my vow, there was an undeniable reaction coming from her. But instead of warmth filling my body and reshaping it to be able to funnel her magic, I was shaken by a sudden feeling of sleepiness, one that forced me onto the ground before I could even think of resisting. Within a few heartbeats, I was carried away into a deep sleep.
– – – – –
A series of pokes cut short my sleep, every single one of them aimed at my cheeks, seemingly trying to force me to open my eyes and pay attention to them. It took me a moment to realize it was Cilia, who I had just prayed to. Who else could it be?
But why would she answer my prayer? Why would she meet me in person? And where was I? Had she descended to the mortal realms just to greet me? Has she brought me into the heavens?
I immediately forced open my eyes, trying to answer all of these questions at once, but a blindingly bright light greeted me. Even this was enough to tell me where I was. While the prayer hall in the dungeon had sunlight, that was if you didn’t hide under the pavilion, it was nowhere nearly as bright as this place. Knowing this, I could only be in Cilia’s realm, in her home, a place that should only ever be seen by the most loyal and devout believers if at all. Why was I here?!
Once again I forced my eyes open, this time fighting against the light that threatened to drive tears into my eyes. Soon enough, I was rewarded by the silhouette of the goddess who was leaning over me, only to realize within moments that it wasn’t Cilia at all.
At first, I didn’t see anything wrong, then I was already greeted by orange hair, not at all the color I had expected to see. There were streaks of white and black to be seen as well, and two ears that towered on the young goddess’ head, but they were shorter than those of the statue and, too, had multiple colors decorating them. It took me a while to recognize her for who she was, but a shabby leather armor that left her vulnerable to both attacks and the elements left no chance for me to mistake her identity.
“Di– Diona?!”
A cheeky smile grew on the goddess's lips as she reached out her hand to help me up. I hesitatingly took it, the very action feeling both wrong and right at the same time, only to be surprised by the strength she had hidden in that slender body of hers. She easily pulled me onto my feet, likely not even noticing the weight of my armor.
I was still dazzled by her unexpected appearance when Diona patted me on my shoulders, before waving Cilia goodbye, who I only now noticed kneeling on a bed of white fur nearby, gently caressing a small, red fox as she watched our interaction. She looked exactly like the statue, with white hair and soft ears, fair skin, and beautiful green eyes. She wore the same dress the statue had copied, the color and details matching each other perfectly. Most notable, however, were the nine white tails, all of them long and soft enough to act as a bed for the pet in her care.
“I will fetch Veritas for you, just wait a moment!” Diona’s voice reached me when I was still in a daze.
I turned around the very next second, but she was already gone, having disappeared with a flash of white light. Her words, however, continued echoing in my mind, over and over again, sending shivers over my skin. Veritas? The goddess whom I had sworn my sword to? What would she say? What would she think of me attempting to dedicate it to Cilia’s cause instead? Would she be angry? Furious? Would she punish me? Curse me even?
A soft chuckle cut short my spiraling thoughts, forcing my attention back to the here and now. And, almost immediately, I was paying my respect to the goddess who was amused by my behavior, kneeling to her and bowing down as I asked for forgiveness before reiterating my name and purpose for coming here.
Luckily, Cilia was not at all displeased by my actions. If anything, she seemed to welcome my choice, if her gentle smile was anything to go by, though she still hesitated to accept my sword.
“We will have to wait for Veritas to make her decision. I have only met her for the first time the day before, but I don’t take her as one to hold grudges over minor things.”
I was just about to ask what the goddess was like when two flashes of light forced my attention onto them. Two goddesses had emerged on the other side of the luxurious pavilion Cilia called her home, their sudden appearance causing the long, white curtains nearby to wave. The two of them couldn’t be any more different from each other.
Veritas had a body that put to shame any statue I had seen created in her honor, betraying any attempt to catch her unnatural beauty. Contrary to Diona, she was not covered in cloth or leather, instead her whole metal body was open to see, its pristine white reminding me of costly porcelain. Contrary to other deities, Veritas had started as the masterpiece of Elgar the Wise, champion of the gnome god Belvart. As the foremost craftsman of his era, he dedicated countless decades to refining his vision, yet fell short of completing it even at the brink of his final breaths. It was the deity whom he had faithfully served throughout his life that bestowed life upon his creation, endowing it with both soul and heart, thus perpetuating Elgar's enduring legacy.
There are many stories about what happened to Veritas after the death of her creator, most of them describing the feelings of love, grief, and loss she experienced as the first of her kind, others portraying her as the wise leader of the gnomes as she spent many generations fueling their progress and prosperity, forever changing their lives for the better while remaining untainted by mortal desires. It was due to her long service that she grew in fame and power, with Belvart himself aiding her ascension to godhood and Omos, Father of All, awarding her the domains of Order, Oaths, and Promises, all ideals she had held high ever since her creation. Gifted a new body by the combined efforts of the two gods, thus reaching true immortality, she immediately became one of the two major deities gnomes worship to this day.
My eyes wandered down the goddess’ body without my doing, past her pure white hair held together by metal and magic. My gaze was glued to the shiny divinite most of her was made of, an unfathomable treasure gifted to what could easily be the most selfless existence alive. An azure–blue metal alloy adorned her sides and chest as the sole specks of color, its name and mixture forever lost with the death of her creator.
A chuckle reached my ears, forcing my attention back to the here and now and painfully reminding me that I was being rude to the very goddess I had once sworn my sword to. I quickly bowed, apologizing for my lapse, before begging her to release me from my duty so I could serve Cilia.
When I next looked up, Veritas' blue eyes seemed to stare directly into my soul. But it wasn’t her gaze that sent shivers down my back. While her eyes were known to be able to see through all kinds of trickery hidden in written contracts, it was her ears that could distinguish sincere promises and oaths from those that were dubious. But I was being honest. There was no falsehood in my words, nor was I here to fuel earthly desires, a fact she seemed to realize easily.
“You have served your oath and breathed your last,” she judged, every single word of hers carrying the strength to bring back order to even the most heated discussions – not that it was needed, as I was frozen in place by her presence alone. “Your pledge is fulfilled. You are free to dedicate your sword once again.”
After saying this much, Veritas’ right hand began glowing in a golden light, and the next thing I knew, a calming cold conquered my body, starting from my heart. The feeling reached all the way to the tips of my fingers within mere moments, forever changing my destiny. I was free. My oath was fulfilled, and my past was left behind.
Tears gathered in my eyes as I bowed to the goddess once again, thanking her for her verdict. But she didn’t say a single more thing, instead, she walked right past me, making her way toward Cilia, who was still kneeling on the bed of white fur.
"Do you feel better now?" I heard Veritas ask, her voice lacking any of the intensity it had just moments prior – it almost seemed loving now!
Cilia hesitated, her gaze shifting from Veritas to the red fox, who nuzzled against her tail in its sleep. "I... I guess I'm alright," she admitted, a flicker of vulnerability dancing in her eyes.
Veritas extended her hand. "We will protect you," she assured, her words measured yet warm. "You are not alone in this, dear sister. Together, we'll tackle whatever comes our way. History won't repeat itself."
Cilia's lips curved into a small smile as she reached out to squeeze Veritas's hand. "Thanks, Veri," she murmured, her expression much lighter now.
Having finished their conversation, Veritas now turned around, facing me one last time. “Omos says that you will receive support soon. His champion is on the way, and he rarely travels alone.”
Shivers ran down my skin as I heard these words. Omos’ champion? The Right Hand of the Father of All? The man that has almost single-handedly liberated the Northern Lands from the Plague Dragons? He was getting involved?
There wasn’t much known about that man, neither his name nor his appearance, but his deeds? They had long found their way into the history books. Having long surpassed the very limits of what was possible by mortal means, he was an army on his own, his sword serving Omos alone – if he used a sword, that is, as even that wasn’t known about him. If it wasn’t for his followers, trustful comrades that followed in the wakes he left behind, his many deeds would forever be left unknown. He was a phantom, yet a real, graspable threat to anyone who dared to anger the heavens.
Veritas didn’t elaborate on her words, she simply made her exit, everything she had come here for done and dealt with. Just like that, she disappeared, leaving me behind with both Cilia and Diona, the latter of whom took this as her cue to make her move. She actually walked up to me from behind, tapping me on the shoulder, and somehow freeing me from my shock. I must have looked like a fish out of its element to the goddess, but, contrary to Veritas, Diona was friendly and carefree, traits that I could handle much more easily.
“See? Still in one piece!” She proudly exclaimed before passing by me and saying her goodbyes to Cilia. “I will take my leave for today. You do your vow thing. And tell Kiomi I said hi when she wakes up!”
“Kiomi?”
Hearing the name of the dungeon avatar, my gaze immediately shot towards Cilia or rather the red fox she was taking care of. But that couldn’t be. That girl was, well, a girl, and certainly no pet of Cilia. Sadly, I would be getting no answer for this, as Diona, having finished her business now, skipped towards the edge of the pavilion, looking as carefree as one can be, before she, too, disappeared with a flash of light.
A faint smile could be seen on Cilia’s face as she stared at the spot where her fellow goddess had just disappeared. I wasn’t sure whether she felt happy or sad right now, her face told me both, but that only lasted for a moment, as she soon gave me her full attention – minus whatever was required to keep caressing the fox. With a simple nod, she permitted me to proceed, and I happily did.
“Goddess Cilia, radiant in your celestial form, I kneel before you, Aspen Lowee, stripped of pride and pretense, bearing my soul in reverence and humility.
In the embrace of your divine presence, I offer my oath, not as a paladin of noble birth, but as a soul seeking redemption and guidance. I have faltered, I have faced defeat, yet here I stand, transformed by your grace and mercy.
With each tail that cascades behind you, I see the wisdom of ages, the nurturing love of a mother, and the guiding light in the darkness. You have shown me the way, not through force or decree, but through compassion and understanding.
I pledge myself to your service, not out of obligation or duty, but out of love and gratitude. You have lifted me from the depths of despair, and for that, I am forever in your debt.
As I gaze into your eyes, radiant with divine power, I see my reflection, not as Aspen Lowee, son of Richard ‘the Dragon’, but as Aspen, your faithful servant, bound by oath and devotion.
Guide me, O Cilia, in your infinite wisdom. Teach me the ways of the foxkin, the light, and the life that you embody. In your presence, I find strength, in your teachings, I find purpose.
This vow I make, not with words alone, but with every fiber of my being, until the stars fade and the heavens bow. For you, Cilia, are my light, my life, and my eternal guardian.”
Cilia listened to my vow in total silence, only her hand moving over the back of her pet. But once I had finished reciting the words, she nodded in satisfaction, before answering in kind.
“Aspen Lowee, your pledge rings clear as a bell in the silence of the night. In your devotion, I see the spark of purpose and redemption.
Your humility speaks volumes, free from pretense, you offer yourself to my service out of love and gratitude.
Before me, I see a warrior of light, bound by oath and devotion. Together, we shall tread the path of righteousness, guided by the eternal light and evergiving life.
Know this, Aspen, your vow is accepted with reverence. In my guidance, you find strength and purpose. Together, we shall illuminate the darkness, now and forever.”
Cilia now lifted her hand, glowing with an intense, white light that seemed to heat up my whole body. I felt divine magic returning to my body, different in magnitude and sensation, weaker but yet so much more than anything Veritas had offered me. This magic would surely grow stronger as Cilia returned to her former glory, but for now, this much would suffice. Time would work in our favor, and if what Veritas had said was true, we would hardly fight alone. But Cilia was not finished yet, she still had something to say. Her demeanor, however, had entirely changed. She looked relieved, now that the whole oath part was over, making her seem much more approachable.
“Aspen, my faithful knight. Before we part ways, could you do me a favor?” She asked, still half–trying to uphold the image of a higher being, but that quickly crumbled. “Please seek out Marisa and let her know that it wasn't her fault. I have a few words I'd like to share with her. Just a friendly chat, you know? Thank you, Aspen... Your assistance is greatly appreciated.”
I almost had to chuckle when she broke character in the middle of stating her request, but I quickly caught myself, instead promising to do my best to grant her wish.
My reward came almost immediately. Cilia gave me a soft smile, causing warmth to spread through my body, but this feeling was quickly replaced by a familiar sleepiness. My time in her realm had come to an end. I found myself on the ground within seconds, luckily within the range of the soft, warm fur, which at least dampened my fall. Then, I was already dragged into a deep sleep, my eyelids having grown too heavy within a mere heartbeat. But I welcomed it, having gained everything I wanted, and so much more…