Ancient, Ben thought. Perhaps it was the dull light that shone through the faded stained glass, painting the long-abandoned living quarters in an aged yellow —the once vibrant reds, greens, and blues of the tattered bedding ravaged by the passage of time. No, he told himself; it was the gnarled Priestess who stood before him. He recognized the sharp mind, the way she moved deliberately, and her weary tone. Ben had seen hints of the same indiscernible traits in his mentor, yet Ethel felt magnitudes beyond even her.

“Kneel,” said the old woman.

Ben almost physically recoiled at the authority her slight form exuded, and his stomach began to twist into a knot. The beast rumbled deep within his being, further exacerbating the migraine he’d senselessly wrought upon himself by staring at the runes carved into the stone surface of the ceiling. He scolded himself for the fact that he had experienced a similar discomfort in the mountain goblin camp after attempting to scrutinize the runework on the Shaman’s staff.

The young man shook his head slowly. “I don’t think I can do that.” His eyes were locked onto Ethel’s sightless gaze.

The old woman’s slight grin grew wider, menacing, as the words creaked from her lips. “Of course, Champion of Illephrre. Then sit, for I need to use touch to convey what words cannot.”

“I thought your magic was taken from you. How do you plan on teaching me by conveying something directly to my mind?”

The old woman huffed in amusement. “My magic wasn’t taken from me. It was willingly sacrificed. And arcane castings aren’t the only way to communicate without words. Think of it as an ancient language,” she tilted her head as if considering him for a beat before continuing. “One that you’ve begun learning, it seems. However, I ask that you listen.”

He frowned. “You said stripped… what did you sacrifice it for?”

“Slay the pretenders. Unshackle your Keeper and prove you are the last Herald. Do this, and I will sate your curiosity,” she said in an even rasp.

The throbbing in his temples had begun to subside, and Ben weighed the implications of her words. “Yeah, I’m not curious enough to commit to becoming your chosen one. I was honest with you about my intentions here, so if you can give me a way to kill them, I’ll take it. But I’m not doing it to prove anything.”

Ethel chuckled. “How nostalgic. I’ll say to you what I said to her. One often meets their destiny on the road traveled to avoid it.”

Ben sighed as he regarded the cryptic old woman. He considered the height difference between them; while she was not as vertically challenged as his diminutive mentor, Ethel was close enough that the top of her head only slightly peeked over his shoulder when they stood. He remained silent for a few heartbeats before acquiescing to her request. The headache had subsided as he sat cross-legged on a dusty, threadbare rug. His head was level with her midsection as she placed cold hands on the sides of his head, dry, cracked fingers running through his growing locks of black hair as sharp nails dug into his scalp.

The ground appeared to vanish beneath him, and his vision went dark. Slowly, as if strained, the familiar starry sky filled his view, his hair whipped behind his head as he hurtled through the air. A few moments later, after piercing what he had come to call the ‘membrane of his consciousness,’ he found himself standing in his domain. The twin suns, blue and red, cast an ethereal violet light over the jagged obsidian forest surrounding the shallow cave in the clearing.

Ben watched as his Avatar materialized, lazing on the forest floor before the rocky outcrop, ignoring his arrival. Its massive tail droned through the air as it flicked and swatted at the pine-covered ground with dull thuds.

Ben turned to face the sound of a cleared throat behind him. He saw an unremarkable woman in what he guessed to be her mid-thirties, standing roughly five paces from him. Her skin was fair yet made tan by hours or days under the sun, and her brown hair was braided into two neat buns on the lower back of her head. She wore a simple, white toga over a plain, loose tunic of the same color.

The woman regarded him with sharp brown eyes and spoke in a rich, soothing voice that felt warm and assuring. “I will begin shortly. Please remain silent and do not ask any questions. Though time crawls here, our communion will not go unnoticed —regardless of the measures I have taken to obscure us from their sight.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

A torrent of questions threatened to burst forth from the dam that was his mouth, yet with an effort, he reined back his impulses. He nodded in acknowledgment.

“Good,” she began before sitting cross-legged on the floor. Ben mirrored the woman as she appeared to be waiting for him to do so before continuing. “I have witnessed intricate schemes, betrayals, and blasphemies of scriptures to indoctrinate the faithful. Listen and listen well, for I shall impart the truth. The fate of the Gods and the true nature of the enemy.”

The large feline entity stood slowly and began circling the pair sitting on the forest floor. Ben glanced at his Avatar before a snap of fingers drew his attention back to the woman.

“The Gods, as we knew them, were once mortals from an ancient civilization. As with all who covet power, an inevitable calamity born of internal strife all but decimated their people —powerful as they were, their hubris was their undoing. Before the end, seeds containing their offspring were scattered across the land in the expectation that their race would reemerge and begin anew. Unfettered by the natural order of things, these perfect beings would carry with them the knowledge of the once unchallenged civilization. They were to be preservers and teachers; their purpose was to facilitate the rebirth of the old world...”

Ben felt his mind drift on the current of her words. Each description began to paint vivid images in his mind. The rhythmic footfalls of the circling entity did little to distract him, yet a sudden rumble in the distance tore him from the trance, and the woman, Ethel, raised her brows in what appeared to be consternation. The expression of worry disturbed him deeply as the woman had been nothing but composed throughout their interactions. He opened his mouth to speak when she shook her head, her gaze once more meeting his.

“We’re running out of time.” She exhaled slowly as the corners of her mouth quirked. “Ironic, isn’t it?” she appeared to ask herself the question, as Ben had no idea what the woman had referred to.

“You’re saying the Gods were once Old Worlders like me?” he asked.

Ethel’s eye twitched. “Yes,” she said simply before another rumble shook the ground, causing her to frown. “Listen.”

Ben tilted his head at the terse command before stifling a response and nodding.

“No one knows how they achieved apotheosis, but it was written, and so it was.” The ground shook once more, and the woman sighed and began to chuckle; her face fell to her open palms. “They’ve found us,” she said bitterly.

The young man was brimming with questions, yet he wasn’t ignorant of their predicament. Ethel’s slumped shoulders told him that she may have given up. Weak-willed, he instinctively thought to himself. He clenched his fists in frustration before grabbing her shoulders.

“Tell me how to kill them —the abridged version. After they’re dealt with, I want to hear the rest of this story.”

The woman raised her head and appeared to be deep in thought. The tremors had begun to pulse more frequently, and she grinned. “I may have been wrong about you,” she said after a beat.

“Yeah, you said something like that earlier,” he replied quickly, voice raised in exasperation. Ben held up his open palms and hastily gestured that she continue.

“You have it in you, the fragment of the Lord. The ability to bring Legions under your heel. To make them submit to your will.”

Ben grunted. “I can’t. I can only Subjugate one at a time.”

Ethel’s grin grew wider. “Even better than what she could do at first,” Ben paused at the comment, yet the woman didn’t allow him the opportunity to speak. “The symbol of the hand is the key. Those who wear it are exposed to the Mistress of Death’s direct influence.”

Ben recalled that Ann had lost her pendant over two months prior during their encounter with Eric and Lucianna at the embassy in Honeydew. Why do the Goddess’ agents still have a hold on her then? He considered asking the question aloud yet refrained as time was of the essence.

The woman continued. “The change happened abruptly, but I noticed the slow wasting away of their free will long before their filthy sacrament. Those creatures, befitting of the Goddess of Decay, have had their very selves eroded.”

“The nightmares we fought in the pav-” Ben began before the realization struck him. “They have no will,” he said with eyes wide. He flexed his hand and watched the slow billowing black flames caress his skin.

“Yes, and if the pretenders were to find their creatures turned against them, the scales of battle would be heavily weighted in your favor.”

“Okay,” he said as he stood abruptly to turn to his Avatar. “Let’s not waste any more time. Can you get me out of here?”

“There’s something else you would do well to consider,” Ethel said, causing Ben to face her. “I do not have the gift of the far-seeing eye anymore, yet I believe one of the Matrons to be a Champion of Ruin.”

Ben’s vision went white, and he found himself in the old, neglected living quarters. Ethel was nowhere to be seen. A creeping dread slithered down his spine, and the thought of his injured companions in danger whipped him into action. In a panic, he sprinted out the door and up the spiral stairway to the narthex and then down the long passageway toward the sickbay. As he approached, he heard the faint sounds of giggling… distant, as if at the edge of his hearing.

He heard Ainsle’s husky drawl echo down the hallway.

“You have some fucking nerve showing up here, princess.”