Joan let out a groan, her eyes slowly opening. She then let out a shriek when she looked into the strange, glowing face of Gil’s armor.

“You’re awake,” Gil said.

“That is not a nice thing to wake up,” Joan said sheepishly. “What happened? Are we outside?” Her quick look around revealed she was back in the chamber they’d first come to, the door glowing a few feet away. “Have you been staring at me the whole time? How long was I unconscious?”

“Only a few minutes,” Gil said. “At least, to you.”

“To me?” Joan asked.

“When you pass out in the Realm of the Gods, you are forced out from it,” Gil said. “Outside the realm, time has stopped. While it took me a while to get to you, it would be only seconds from then. How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Joan said. “My head hurts.”

“What did you do?” Gil asked.

“I didn’t do anything,” Joan said quickly. “It wasn’t me! There was this weird cloaked person and they gave me this weird thread and--”

“Wait, what?” Gil asked, sitting up a little taller. “What kind of thread? What did it look like?”

“Uhhhhh…” Joan said softly, trying to remember. “Silver? I guess? It wasn’t very long. It faded away.”

“Where?” Gil asked.

“Here,” Joan said before holding her hands up.

Gil grabbed her left hand tightly. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” Joan asked.

“This,” Gil said forcing her to look at the hand.

“I don’t know,” Joan said. “A hand? It’s too dark to--” A small orb of light appeared behind her and she could now clearly see what Gil meant. Little black lines had formed across it. “Uhhhhh… I don’t know.”

Gil gave a soft sigh. “Wonderful. What are they planning?”

“What are who planning?” Joan asked. “What happened? What’s going on? What’s going to happen to me?”

“The fates,” Gil said before letting her hand go. “I’m not sure yet. Here, punch me.”

“Punch you?” Joan said.

“Yes,” Gil said. “If I’m correct, you’ll be fine.”

“If you’re not?” Joan asked.

“You’ll maybe get a bruise,” Gil said.

Joan nodded nervously, though she didn’t want to try and hit the woman who saved her life. If she was asked to wasn’t it the right thing to do? Maybe? Very slowly she reached out and gave a soft, gentle punch to the woman. “There.”

“Harder,” Gil said, her voice dripping with annoyance. “As hard as you can.”

“But—”

“Just do it!” Gil ordered.

Joan whimpered but then did as she was told, punching as hard as she could. Pain shot through her hand and she shrieked, pulling it back and clutching the hand. “Ow ow ow ow ow…”

“Okay, so not that,” Gil said.

“Not what? Why did you make me do that?” Joan asked.

“I had to be sure that they hadn’t made you the Champion,” Gil said. “I’m doubtful they would, but the test is easy enough.”

“What?” Joan asked. “The what?”

Gil stared down at her before shaking her head. “We should go.”

“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” Joan asked. “Please! I just want to know what this is!”

Gil didn’t move, but after a moment she gave a loud sigh. “It’s a long story. Most of which you likely already know, even if you don’t remember it.”

“Please,” Joan said. “There’s no rush, is there? I just want to know why any of this is important. Why any of this matters. Why I’m able to go through those doors and why it is such a big deal. Please.”

Gil slowly got to her feet and slowly began to pace back and forth. Joan watched her, a small feeling of dread rising in her. Then, finally, the woman sighed. “Very well. It’s not easy to fully explain, though. Even for me. But I should be able to give you enough. You’re not the Champion.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Joan said softly.

“You will,” Gil said. “I suppose I should start long before even I was aware. The beginning. This world, our home. There were a people here. Many, many people. Millions. Billions. I don’t know what they were like. In some ways, I suppose your… our ancestors. In a way. Their souls, at least. The first. A world only the fates had seen. I have heard there were many of them, but I don’t know. They were the first and every last one of them perished. Wiped clean, this world turned to a bleak, barren wasteland with only a few remnants of souls remaining.”

“Then came the gods. Our gods. The fourteen. They came to this world and reshaped it. They took the souls that remained and gave them a new chance. They took what was barren and empty and made it anew. For a while, it was good, I am told. But with new life, the Hungry One came.”

“Hungry One?” Joan asked.

“That hungry god,” Gil said softly. “I don’t know its name. I don’t even know if it has a name. Some call it the Void, the Empty God, it doesn’t matter. What matters is what it did. It assaulted this world, devouring it. Trapping what souls it could in its web. The new life was torn asunder. Some tried to fight, but they were hopeless against it. So the gods gave a chance to those few who remained. The seven, who came to be known as the Chosen. Given but a fragment of the gods powers, they were able to fight back against that Hungry One.”

“They won?” Joan asked.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“No, they lost,” Gil said. “They perished, again and again. But they continued to fight. They finally, after many lives lost, many souls were devoured, they fought back and they wounded the Hungry One. From this wound, the souls of those devoured were freed. Not all of them, but enough. Victory was at hand, or so they believed. But it wasn’t so. So it was that in the next world, the next chance, the Chosen were defeated. Rather than facing them directly, it assaulted them in a new way. Shattering not just them, but their spirits. Their will to fight.”

Joan shuddered, feeling a sudden rush of sadness wash over her.

“The Chosen could no longer fight, their souls so badly damaged by this war. Their defeat, snatched from the jaws of victory. They no longer had the will to fight on,” Gil said. “Though they could try, there was nothing that could be done at this point except make them born anew. To refresh their souls, to cleanse them of this pain. But without the knowledge of what they faced, it was unknown how they could defeat the Hungry One again.”

“I was told that the world was almost abandoned, then,” Gil said. “Left behind, the Hungry One feasting on the souls of those who were still trapped. The Chosen were given the chance to escape, to leave. All save one almost took it, but in the end? They did not. So the souls of the Chosen were to be reborn. Cleansed of their past lives, their past suffering. Two new souls were created as well. A guide and a champion. The former to direct them, to tell them where they must fight, how they must fight. To carry the knowledge of what they were fighting for, the costs. To bear the burden of what was at stake, without paying the cost of fighting. The latter to fight by them, to aid them. To lead them.”

“They succeeded,” Gil said. “Again and again they wounded the Hungry One, freeing soul after soul. While the world perished, those trapped were once more freed. New worlds were made, new battles fought. But victory was at hand. Until finally, they did it. The Hungry One was defeated. Once and for all. Dealt a fatal wound that even a god could not survive.”

Joan perked up, her eyes going wide. They’d won? They’d actually done it? Yet, Gil didn’t sound happy about this at all. If anything, she’d gotten quieter. “What happened?”

“Killing a god is never easy,” Gil said. “There are after effects. Costs. The Hungry One knew its time was coming to an end. It scattered thousands of its spawn across this world. Like seeds from a foul, evil plant. The Devourer of the Deep, the Cloud of Death, the Nameless One, the Toxic Wave, the Tainted Webweaver, the Devourer of Dynasties. Some were destroyed, some waited to rise should others fail, a handful were even turned from their ancestor. But the most insidious of its seeds was what it did to the Champion.”

Joan lightly hugged her knees to her chest, staring with wide eyes. “What did it do?” she asked in a soft, frightened tone.

“Corrupted him,” Gil said. “It buried itself in the very core of his soul. It took… many… lives for the Guide to realize what happened.” Her hands tightened into fists. “For the Champion was so much more than just the Champion of the Gods. Arta was… Arta was… The Champion was unique. Special. Strong. Determined. So with each life, the Champion, the Chosen and the Guide would rise up, against the seeds of the Hungry One. Stopping them at each step. Yet, with each life, the Champion would succumb to the darkness by the end. Eventually they all had to accept it. Accept the… loss of their Champion. With each life lost, the corruption would start sooner and sooner. So the Guide made a promise, a vow to him.”

“The Guide would no longer focus on her role as a Guide,” Gil said. “The Guide would find a way to free him, permanently, from his role. To stop the rebirth of the Champion. So the Guide pulled away. But it was impossible, or so she believed. The Guide tried everything. She created the humans, the dwarves, the elves. She even learned to tap into the power of the Hungry One to create the demons. Yet no matter what tools she used, no matter what power she wielded, no matter how she changed herself, she could not defeat the Champion. She could not save him, could not end his terrible cycle no matter how hard she tried. It wasn’t long before her role as the Guide was forgotten entirely, the Champion becoming known as the Hero.”

“But in their fights, their confrontations, often the most she could do was wound him,” Gil said, her fists shaking now. “Rarely she could slay him. She even tried to… wipe his memory from this world. She even believed if she could just make it so none knew he had ever existed. If none knew of him, he could be saved. That seed of evil could be purged and he could be reborn.”

Gil stopped clenching her fists, then. Her fingers laying limp at her side. “There were times she believed she had succeeded. Believed he had been saved. That was what he was, after all. So good with words. So clever. So kind. The Champion was the Guide’s friend. A soul so unique. So many times she believed his lies. Trusted him. Then suffered for it. Yet each time she failed. He fell and the remnants of the Hungry One rose in his place, a vile, corrupted soul. Twisting all that was good and pure into something else.”

“Then, finally, the Guide succeeded,” Gil said softly, now speaking so softly that Joan had to lean in to hear. “The Guide was given direction when she reached out to the fates. She was led to where the Champion was. Before his power had awoken. Before he had gathered his precious Star of the Hero. While he was at his most vulnerable. And she destroyed him. She wiped not just the memory of him, but of his family, his home, from existence.”

Joan blinked a few times. “Then… what happened?”

“For a while the Guide felt she’d finally done it. She’d succeeded. They were free. But no, such things can never be so easy. For a time, she relaxed. She found peace. A family. A home,” Gil said. “She believed things would be better. But there were still stirrings. She heard stories of a new Hero. Of more Chosen. Of new monsters.”

Joan gulped, hugging her knees a little tighter. “You’re… the Guide, right?”

“Yes,” Gil said.

“But what about the seeds of the Hungry One? Whatever it left? If the, ummm, Champion is gone then--”

“The Chosen will handle it,” Gil said. “The Hungry One is dying. If the Champion is no longer, then there will be no more corruption. When it finally perishes, this cycle will be over. None will even remember it, or the Champion. Eventually, there won’t even be a need for the Chosen at all.”

“Then what about that thread?” Joan asked.

“I don’t know,” Gil said. “The silver thread is the thread of the Champion. You don’t have his strength or power, so they didn’t make you it. Worse, that thing in your left hand? I don’t know how you have it. It was left with the Nameless One and they shouldn’t have given it to anyone unless it was important. Something is going on here that I don’t understand. But obviously you’re important.”

Joan nodded. “Do you think the Chosen were trying to kill me? Is that why you fought?”

“Maybe,” Gil said. “Do the Chosen scare you?”

“No,” Joan said before she could stop herself. “I don’t… think they do.”

“Then I doubt it,” Gil said before walking over to her and grabbing her arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Joan asked.

“I’m not sure, yet,” Gil said with a soft sigh. “Somewhere safe, though. I just need to determine where that is.”

“That felt familiar, too,” Joan said.

“Huh?” Gil asked.

“You saying you have to take me somewhere safe,” Joan said. “That feels incredibly familiar.”

“Ah, good,” Gil said. “So you usually listen, then?”

Joan blinked a few times and then slowly glanced away. “I don’t feel like I do, if that makes sense?”

“Ah, delightful,” Gil said with a soft sigh. “So you were a troublesome child. That narrows it down. If I take you to the demons and they see you, they might figure something out. But if you are amongst humans often, someone might have familiarity with you in some ways and that could invite more questions. Though, that might not be that likely. Your armor seems more akin to demonic styles than humans, so perhaps you spent most of your time with them. So humans might be the best. Perhaps elves? No, that’d draw more attention. Humans would be easiest to blend in with. We’ll just need to ensure you stay far from the Chosen for now, keep you out of sight as best as possible.”

“Far from them?” Joan asked. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know why we were fighting,” Gil said. “Or what the fates have intended for you. Until we know, it’s best to keep you safe.” She pulled Joan to her feet before dragging her towards the glimmering teleportation circle.

“Will my memory return?” Joan asked.

“No,” Gil said. “Bits and pieces may, but it is unlikely it’ll ever truly return. The magic on that blade was beyond what most mortals could ever consider. It would take all of the Chosen to undo it, if they even remember it. Destroying it like she did, well, there’s no telling what the after effects will be.”

“Then what about my hand? What’ll happen to it? To me?”

That made Gil pause again, standing on the edge of the teleportation circle. Then, very slowly, she looked back at her. “I’m not sure. What is inside you isn’t something created by mortal hands. Only the Chosen should have something like that. The fact you have it must mean something… important is going to happen.”

“Really? It’s that powerful?” Joan asked softly.

“I can’t remember you,” Gil said. “But I still remember that artifact. That should tell you plenty.”

Joan gave a small nod and was dragged into the middle of the circle. A moment later it began to glow with a bright light before the two of them disappeared.