Book 3 Prologue

The Hero stared at Andreas, wondering if his mind had finally left him. There was no possible way. How could this man be one of the chosen? Andreas stared back at him, or at least the Hero thought he was staring back at him. He seemed half asleep or at least drugged.

But Andreas was now holding the spear and had been chosen, seemingly as some cosmic joke at his expense.

“Do I have to?” Andreas asked.

“Do you have to what?” the Hero asked.

“This whole thing,” Andreas said before holding up the spear. “Listen, what happened back there was--”

“You were able to wield Hardwin’s sword, you are a chosen. The spear has marked you as it’s own. This is a duty that cannot be shaken.”

“But do I have to? Can’t I just give the spear to someone else?”

The Hero gave a sigh of exasperation. Stars give him strength.

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“It feels hollow,” Andreas said while he watched the demons dance in the center of the ancient city.

“Hollow?” the Hero asked. “I’ll admit it doesn’t feel the same as the dances back home, but they’re throwing all they have into it. You should be thankful, we’re likely the only humans who will ever be allowed to see such a festival. Korgron has-- Andreas?”

Andreas didn’t seem to be listening, instead his focus was on Korgron in the very center of the courtyard. The Hero might have suspected that there was some attraction there, except that look on the man’s face wasn’t longing. It was sadness. As if he saw something else in the courtyard none of them could see. Even now the tears in his eyes were gathering, though they did not yet fall.

“Andreas? What’s wrong?” the Hero asked.

“I don’t know,” Andreas said softly. “It just feels wrong. It all feels wrong. Empty. It’s not… I wish you had left me behind. I shouldn’t be here.”

The Hero sighed and patted his friend on the back. He wished he could help him, but he didn’t even know if his friend could be helped.

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“How can they celebrate?” Andreas asked, the plate of food in front of him untouched.

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“What?” the Hero asked, glancing to his friend. One of the few he had left after that final battle. The world was saved, the Inferno God couldn’t get to them anymore. The cost had been great, cutting them off from the gods, all those lives lost, the cities, the chosen. But they had finally achieved what they had set out to do. Saved the world. How could they not celebrate?

“They’re gone. We left them behind so we could fix this and now they’re gone,” Andreas said. “How can anyone expect us to celebrate that?”

“They’d want us to,” the Hero said, but the words rang just as hollow in his ears. He’d never known Andreas to be one to celebrate, but even he didn’t want to touch any of the delicious food or drink. But in the end he was the Hero, if he didn’t celebrate then who could? It was expected of him. His duty. All of their duty.

“It feels familiar,” Andreas said softly, closing his eyes. “Do you ever feel that way?”

“What does?”

Andreas shook his head before finally getting to his feet. “Never mind. It’s not important. I need to go clear my head.” Before the Hero could stop him, he stood and walked away, leaving him behind.

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“It doesn’t feel right,” Andreas said, staring at the field littered with bodies. “This isn’t Korgron. She wouldn’t, she doesn’t… she…”

The Hero glanced to Andreas, trying to suppress his own anger at the statement. “I think those she left in her wake would disagree.”

“But she wouldn’t…” Andreas said again before reaching up and putting a head to his forehead. “Ugh.”

“What’s wrong?” the Hero asked.

“I just have a splitting headache. Stress, I guess,” Andreas said with a shake of his head.

The Hero laughed. “Ah yes, the greatest foe of all. Not gods, demon lords or even abominations of nature. But instead stress. I guess not being able to slack off for once is finally doing you in.”

Andreas gave a laugh before nodding. “Probably. It was so much easier when there were eight of us.”

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“How do you do it?” Andreas asked, his arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the sky.

“Do what?” the Hero asked, glancing over at his friend.

“Keep going even when you don’t know where the chosen could be. They could be anywhere out there,” Andreas said with a soft sigh.

“We’ll find them,” the Hero said. “It’s our destiny.”

“Our destiny,” Andreas said. “You make it sound like it’s all pre-ordained. Like we can’t fail.”

“We can’t,” the Hero said. “If we failed, the world is doomed. It isn’t an option.”

“Mmm,” Andreas said before glancing over at him. “Do you ever just feel like you already failed?”

“If I failed, I’d have died ages ago. But I wasn’t sent here in order to fail. The gods wouldn’t have brought me if we were doomed,” the Hero said with a laugh.

“Here’s hoping you’re right,” Andreas said softly.

The Hero glanced to Andreas and felt, once more, like he would never understand the Chosen of the Spear. The man seemed so incredibly lazy, but that wasn’t truly it. It was more like he was only half there. He never joined in the feasts or celebrations, even when he didn’t want to do work he’d only ever put up a token resistance. He always seemed to be looking for something that nobody else could see.

He didn’t know what the man was searching for, but he hoped he would one day find it.