Oh my gosh Joan wondered if she had ever been this bored before. Probably. Maybe? Oh, she didn’t even care. She was bored now and that was miserable.

Where in the world was Gil? It had been days already and she STILL hadn’t returned. Joan had been worried, at first. Resting in her new ‘room’, she’d tried to figure out if there was anything she could remember about who she was. Yet, all she could remember were ‘things’. How to use magic, how some monsters reacted to certain things, fae were jerks and couldn’t be trusted, dragons were pretty okay, vampires were weird, spiders were terrifying. But she didn’t know HOW she knew all these things. It was like the information was just in her head and she had no idea how any of it got there. Like rocks sticking out of the sea, without any sign of the islands they were once apart of.

Palkin was even worse. At first he had been scary. Now she just hoped he would leave her alone. Every so often he’d come to ask her a dozen questions, before inevitably being dragged off by some duty. ‘Have you ever met the Demon Lord?’ ‘You’re so fortunate to have caught his eye.’ ‘Do you know what task he has in mind for you?’ ‘Have you seen Gil under the armor? What kind of demon is he?’

The man obviously knew even less about Gil than she did, though she supposed he probably knew more about everything else. She kept her answers vague, but it didn’t stop him from returning to ask the same questions over and over, as if somehow she would magically remember everything and tell him everything he wanted to know. She’d never even met this ‘Demon Lord’, what was she supposed to say? That he spit out gold and hummed mountains into existence?

Probably.

On top of that, the more she thought about what she couldn’t remember, the more her head hurt. But there really wasn’t anything else to do aside from try and remember something about who she was. She’d even been slightly excited to have the First Blade of his arrive, if just because it would be a change. Maybe she could leave this stupid room if he arrived. Yet he was supposed to be back yesterday, yet was still gone.

She didn’t say it, but she strongly suspected that this First Blade had run away, just so he’d never need to hear Palkin talk about another stupid, boring topic that nobody cared about.

Joan sighed and glanced towards the covered window. Whenever Gil got back, surely she’d learn a bit more about who she was and what she was supposed to do. She’d been given that thread, so obviously it was something good. Probably. Maybe? If only--

The world shook for a moment and she let out a shriek. It ended a moment later and she jumped to her feet and ran to the window, forcing open the slabs and looking outside. Was there some monster? Some kind of natural disaster?

It took her a moment to see what had caused the strange shaking, but it didn’t answer what it was. The sky had gone a dark purple, massive glowing lines snaking across the heavens like an intricate web. Every time it pulsed, the world would shake. She longed to go outside and see just how far it went, but she found it was unlikely she’d be allowed to. Even from here, though, it seemed to cover the entirety of the sky.

The next pulse was massive and made her head ache, as if it was being squeezed in someone’s hand. “Ow,” Joan whispered, but couldn’t look away. Something strange was going on. Was it what was keeping Penthe away? The pressure on her head only seemed to get stronger. The headache growing.

Wait, Penthe? Who was--

Then, the great purple web shattered. Like stained glass windows hit with a rock, the shards of the sky fell from the heavens, seemingly fading away to sparkling dust before they could hit the ground. The pressure was so much she couldn’t even breathe anymore. It was crushing her. She closed her eyes and wondered what was happening, was her head going to explode?

Then, as suddenly as it started, it was gone. The pressure, the pain. It just disappeared entirely. As if her head had been wrapped in a blanket that had just been shredded to pieces. All that remained was the strange aching sensation to remind her that it had hurt.

Joan felt a giddy rush of glee. They’d done it. Korgron and the others had done it. They’d broken that spell over the world. She didn’t know how they’d managed to do it without her help, but they’d done it. No, they’d done it without even knowing she existed. She was so proud of them!

That pride shattered a moment later and the color drained from her face.

She was in the home of one of the Demon Lord’s servants. Worse, now she knew WHY the name of Lord Palkin had been so, so familiar to her so long ago. Why she had remembered Ywain’s voice before. Palkin, a man who had tried to get the Hero to join his coup against the queen, who had often said she was unfit to rule. Untrustworthy. A man who had, eventually, become a demon himself and had to be put down. His First Blade, the man who had tried to buy his lord time, but then perished in the ceremony to become a demon himself.

Now she was in his home.

Oh, and she was willing to bet if her memories were returning, then Penthe’s were as well. Which meant she was likely on her way right now to try and kill her off. She needed to get out of here. She--

Memories started to flood her mind and she had to reach out and grab the wall. Memories of her past lives as the Hero and many, many interactions with Penthe. Memories that shouldn’t have existed. Memories of people she’d met but ‘forgotten’ from that spell. She felt like she was going to throw up, her head aching in a brand new way before she, finally, shoved it all away. As much as she wanted to focus on everything she could remember, now was not the time. She needed to escape BEFORE she got herself killed. She could sort through everything afterwards. She’d already spent more time than she should have on her headache. She quickly made her way to the door and pulled it open.

Only to see Palkin staring down at her, his hand reached out to grab the doorknob. He blinked a few times.

Joan wondered if she was going to have to fight him. He was a human now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still a threat.

“Are you okay?” Palkin asked.

To Joan’s surprise, he looked concerned. Was he worried about her? Didn’t he know who she was? He--

He didn’t. They’d never met. He’d likely heard about Joan, the daughter of a Chosen. But he had likely never actually seen her. Or if he did, he didn’t recognize her. They’d never met face to face and, aside from when she had been the prodigy at the academy, he’d likely never had any reason to. “I saw whatever that was, outside. I wanted to come and see.”

“You should stay inside for now,” Palkin said. “You’re safe in here.”

“Are you sure?” Joan asked. “What if something is planning to attack us?”

Palkin gave a light chuckle and shook his head. “Nonsense. Who would attack us? For now, just rest patiently. It has been an exciting day for you.”

“But—”

“Rest,” Palkin said before reaching out to grab the knob and pulling the door shut. She rolled her eyes and walked away, though she soon heard heavy footsteps outside coming to a stop outside her door. She waited, but nothing else happened.

Of course, now he was probably keeping her door under watch. She rolled her eyes. As if that would stop her. Breaking out of a room was like a thousand times easier than breaking into one. Especially when Penthe was likely already on her way and--

Wait, Penthe and Hardwin KISSED? She saw them KISS?! WHY WERE THEY KISSING?!

Joan quickly shoved that memory aside. Nope. NO. Not right now. AFTER she was out of here and she had time to focus on--

Oh, screw it. Now she had to know. How in the world had THAT happened? Wait, no. Penthe had joined them in some lives? After the defeat of the Demon Lord, she joined them? She’d tried to stop him from breaking the doors, said there had to be another way? Had there been? She didn’t know, they’d never found it.

She’d been there at the end. Before each final battle, she’d been there. Fighting the Hero. Without her armor, she’d never stood a chance. The most she could do, even with the army of demons at her side, even becoming a demon herself, the most she could do was wound the Hero. Allowing the Chosen a chance. Was she responsible for their betrayals in the end? Had she known that it would come to this?

Why was it in some lives she and Hardwin had come together? Why had--

Joan covered her mouth. She hadn’t killed Penthe. Not once.

In every life, when her defeat had been assured. She’d slain herself with Dynasty Devourer. Why? Had she known it would come to this? Had she wished so desperately to erase her existence? Why was it in some lives that Penthe and Hardwin connected in such a way? Hardwin had never betrayed the Hero. Yet Penthe always had been the Hero’s enemy. So how?

NOW WASN’T THE TIME TO WORRY ABOUT THAT!

Joan shook her head and tried to bury those thoughts again. Escape Palkin’s estate, find the Chosen, THEN figure out everything with Penthe. Yet, like some kind of monster trying to burrow into her head, more memories came forward. Memories of her time in the Realm of the Gods. What she needed to do. Who Arta was. Why he mattered.

Joan knew who kept spying on her and why they mattered. Where she had to go and how she could free them.

Oh. Oh no. She knew where they were and that meant going back somewhere she desperately, oh so desperately, never wanted to go back to. She could almost feel the thousands upon thousands of spiders crawling all over her body. Nope. No. Oh gosh, she was going to have to, wasn’t she? It wasn’t like there was anybody else who could.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Right. Focus on that later. For now, escape. Ew ew ew ew. She could imagine them crawling all over her skin and it sent shudders through her.

“Focus,” Joan whispered to herself. She made her way to the window. The obvious way to escape was through here. The wooden slats in the window barred her way, so she’d need to remove them.

It took her about three seconds to get two out, at which point she could easily slide out. The next problem was she was quite high up and the grounds of the manor were fairly sparse. All it would take was a single glance outside and she’d be noticed in a heartbeat. If she had the time she’d have preferred to wait until nightfall, but there was no telling how long until Penthe would get here.

Fortunately, she knew there were easier locations she could sneak out through. She had just the perfect tool to get to them, as well. Putting her spider bracer on, unfortunately, hurt about as much as she remembered when the decorative spider bit her hand, but it was what she needed.

Climbing out through the window, she pressed the back of the bracer on the wall and pulled it away, leaving a small trail of webbing for her to grab onto with her other hand.

It was slower going than she liked, requiring her to make small webbing holds for her to grab with her other hand, then pressing the back of the bracer higher up for her to climb, but she made her way up to the roof steadily, pulling herself up with a low grunt and then rolling onto her back, staring at the sky and panting.

Step one, done.

Now she just had to look around, figure out the best place to escape and make her grand departure. Maybe go to the academy. They’d listen to her, maybe. At least they might get her to the Chosen. Get a message to them. Even being with Emeline would be better than here, she at least only likely wanted to kill her, she wasn’t guaranteed.

Stupid dying gods and their stupid memory blocking things. They--

Wait. Had Penthe said that the NAMELESS ONE WAS ONE OF THEM? Oh. OH THAT STUPID FAE! She swore if she ever got a chance to annoy them, she would TAKE IT. She was willing to bet that this entire thing had been some stupid thing by them. Had they known she wasn’t the Hero? Or the original Hero? The Champion? WHATEVER!

At least she didn’t have headaches from the memory magic anymore. Now her headaches were probably just caused by all the other issues. But at least these headaches were EARNED. They--

She heard the door below bang open and then, a moment later, the sound of wood shattering. That was definitely a sign for her to stop taking a break. Joan rolled to her feet and ran across the roof. She could see the rest of the city with ease, though getting across the grounds to it would be the hardest part. All she had to--

The roof creaked and she glanced back before letting out a groan. “Penthe,” Joan said softly.

“You tricked me,” Penthe said, her voice cold as ice, now standing on the edge of the roof.

“That’s not true and we both know it,” Joan said. “I couldn’t trick anyone, especially not like that. I didn’t even know who I was.”

“Of course you didn’t, Arta,” Penthe said before drawing her sword.

Joan gulped. Great, she had another weapon. Still, it was better than Dynasty Devourer. Unfortunately, judging by the glimmering, rippling blade it wasn’t just any blade. She suspected it was another one of those powerful demon blades. Well, she had one of her own. More importantly, she had Guardian Nova. She willed the sword into her hand, gripping it in both hands. “I’m not Arta. You would know this if you would just think for a little bit.”

“I’m not falling for any more of your tricks!” Penthe yelled before running at her.

“I’m not the one tricking you!” Joan yelled before narrowly moving to Penthe’s left, deflecting one of her strikes. “Please! Just listen to me for once!”

“No!” Penthe yelled before trying to bring her sword down on Joan’s head.

Joan barely managed to jump back in time, narrowly avoiding the blade but she knew she couldn’t pull back much further without going off the roof. “I’m not the one tricking you. Please. If I was, why would the fates have given me that thread? You said it was important, right?”

Penthe stopped for a moment, staring at her. Joan felt a moment of relief was over her. It quickly faded when Penthe shook her head. “Since when have the gods or fates ever truly cared about what happened here?” she asked before running forward again. Joan held her ground until the last moment, then quickly moved around to Penthe’s left, deflecting her wild swings and kicking her as hard as she could, unfortunately it was only enough to make Penthe stumble, but not fall off the roof.

“Would they be doing all this if they didn’t?” Joan asked. “Why not leave us to perish otherwise? Why apologize to you and Arta? They’re trying!”

Penthe froze, staring at her. “How do you know about that?”

“They showed me,” Joan said. “A little bit. But I saw it. Please. They’re trying their hardest to fix this. I’m not Arta, but I am pretty sure I know who is. But we can’t fix this if we’re too busy trying to fight each other.”

Penthe didn’t move any closer, her sword lowering slightly. However, after a few more moments she shook her head again. “No! I’m done listening to your lies! I’m done being tricked! I won’t fall for them again!” She ran at Joan once more, swinging viciously.

Joan parried the wild strikes with ease, though they were far more powerful than her, they were so uncontrolled and easy to predict that it was almost easy. “You keep talking about how Arta was corrupted,” Joan said. “How do you know YOU weren’t corrupted too?”

“Shut up and just die!” Penthe yelled.

“You’re so hung up on killing me you are missing the obvious!” Joan yelled before ducking under Penthe’s blade and then slashing with all her might at Penthe’s side. “You’re just--” The words caught in her throat when Guardian Nova glimmered for a moment like silver, cutting through the armor with ease and cleaving her in half.

Penthe didn’t move, her entire body still.

Joan felt panic rise inside her. “No no no no,” she said softly. “The armor, it was supposed to protect you! I was trying to knock you away! Penthe, please, please don’t die, I… I… huh?” She realized a moment later there was no blood. A long line had been cleaved through the armor around Penthe, but her sword didn’t have a single drop of blood on it. In fact, there didn’t seem to be any blood anywhere.

A moment later Penthe tried to swing at her again, though the strike was slower and weaker this time. Joan quickly moved to Penthe’s left again, bringing her sword up and slashing just beneath Penthe’s wrists. Once again she cut through the armor with ease, but there was no blood.

Penthe stumbled back, dropping her sword and gripping her wrists. “W-what have you done? What are you doing?”

Joan glanced down to her sword and then back up towards Penthe. Slowly, a smile formed on her lips. “I think I know now why I was given that thread. You’re right, it wasn’t to make me the Hero or anything like that.” She then charged forward and she cut. Again and again and again. Penthe tried to escape, to pull back from the strikes, but they had fought so, so many times. Across almost a thousand lifetimes. Even if she wasn’t as strong or fast as she had been in those times, Penthe was every bit as easy to read. Again and again her blade cut through the armor, hacking it to bits and causing pieces of it to fall to the ground. “It wasn’t so I could be strong or fast or anything like that!”

“Stop, stop this!” Penthe yelled, stumbling back and falling to the ground on her butt.

“It’s so I could save you from THIS!” Joan yelled before, finally, she brought the sword down through Penthe’s head and into her chest, cutting the remains of the armor off and revealing the human beneath. The sword rested there, plunged into Penthe’s chest, yet glowing with a dim, silver light. Not piercing through her.

“What have you done?” Penthe asked, staring up at her. The dark veins across her body were slowly beginning to fade as well.

“I’m not quite sure,” Joan said before pulling her blade back. “But will you listen to me now? Please?”

“I…” Penthe said softly, her hands clasping into fists.

“I’m not Arta,” Joan said. “I’ve never been Arta. If I’m right, Arta is the Demon Lord. If I’m right, he’s trapped by that Hungry One. If I’m right, he needs our help.”

“Do you really think if he was Arta I wouldn’t know?” Penthe asked.

“Yes, I do,” Joan said. “Because you seem to think I’m him, which I’m not. I don’t know what all you are missing, what that spell did to you. I’m not even certain what all you did in the past with the Hero means. But if you’ll just try to listen, try to consider that maybe I’m telling you the truth? Please? Just consider it?”

Penthe stared up at her for a few moments before, slowly, she lowered her eyes. “I don’t know what the fates are planning, why they gave you that thread.”

“So maybe I’m right,” Joan said.

“Maybe you-- no. I… I won’t fall for…” Penthe trailed off, looking unsure for once.

Joan smiled despite herself. “Then don’t fall for my lies. Consider what I said. You know a lot about all of this, a lot I don’t know. So if you let yourself, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’ll remember it.”

Penthe stared at her for a few moments. “You’re just going to… let me go?”

“Obviously,” Joan said. “It doesn’t really count as saving everyone if I don’t save you too, now does it?”

“I killed you, though,” Penthe said. “The Hero.”

“I killed myself a lot too,” Joan said with a shrug. “Besides, he’d have felt the same way. Even if he died, he’d have wanted to save you and Arta too. He’d--”

She heard the roof creak behind her and she barely turned in time to see Palkin swinging down at her with a warhammer held tightly in both hands.

Joan slashed out with Guardian Nova once, cutting off the head of the warhammer and sending it flying through the air. She then moved in quickly, her foot catching his and knocking the leg out from under him. She followed up with a solid strike, driving the pommel of her sword into his stomach and slamming him down into the roof.

He laid there for a few moments, softly groaning.

Joan gave a soft sigh before glancing back to Penthe. “I don’t know everything yet. But I know I trust you. I know you’ll do the right thing, in the end. I will save Arta. I will save this world. I will drag this Hungry One into the grave, kicking and screaming if I have to. Even if it destroys me in the process, I won’t let it hurt anyone else. Not Arta, not you, not this world.”

“Why?” Penthe asked. “How can you say it like that?”

“Because I’ve seen what happens when I fail,” Joan said before turning back towards the city. “I’ve watched everyone I’ve ever loved and cared about die. I’ve watching my friends betray me. I’ve watched our world suffer for my mistakes. It won’t happen again. I won’t let it. I don’t care if it’s impossible. I won’t fail again.” Joan started to walk again, bracing herself in case Penthe tried to launch another attack.

Fortunately for her, though, Penthe didn’t move. She just watched, even as Joan left her behind.

She was going to save this world.

She would.

Inferno God, Hungry One. Heck, even the Nameless One. She didn’t care. She’d kick all of them into the dirt if that was what it took.

They’d all lost once, she’d lost a thousand times. She’d beat them with experience if nothing else.