Book 4 Prologue

Every inch of the Hero’s body ached. His very lungs felt like they were on fire.

But he’d done it. He stood over Korgron, his spear thrust through her chest. Neither of them would leave this building, they both likely knew that. Still, she stared up at him with hatred. “Why?” the Hero asked. “After… everything. Why did you… betray us? You weren’t supposed to be… like the other… demons.”

Korgron coughed, spitting out a little blood. “Other… demons… that’s all you… ever saw… isn’t it?” she asked. “You’re no… hero. You never… were.”

“You… killed them,” the Hero said, a hand moving up to his chest. Already he was feeling the world grow colder, feeling his very life leaving him. “They were your friends. Why? You were… one… of us…”

“I was never… one of you…” Korgron said. “You… never… let me…”

The Hero stared down at her, trying to contain his burning hatred and rage before finally reaching out to grip the spear, twisting it one last time before, finally, he collapsed onto her body.

He’d failed.

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“Is what she said true?” the Hero asked.

“You’ll need to be more specific,” the sisters said. “She said a lot of things.”

“Was she not one of us?” the Hero asked.

“Was she?”

“I hated her in the end,” the Hero said. “Did I ever not? Did I ever treat her with respect? I just saw another demon. Didn’t I? Was that wrong? She did betray us, afterall.”

“Was it?” the sisters asked.

“That’s why I’m asking you,” the Hero said. “Aren’t you the ones who decide this?”

“That is for you to decide,” the sisters said. “We do not judge. Good and evil are not ours. We are merely watchers.”

“This is hardly watching,” the Hero said before looking at his options once more.

“There is nothing left to watch if we do not,” the sisters said.

The Hero sighed and tried to go over it again in his mind. It was true, she had always been on the outside looking in, in one way or another. A demon. He’d always hated demons. Ever since he had started this journey. Ever since he’d become a hero. He paused for a moment when he looked over the options he’d been given. Were there more now than there had once been? “What if she’s the key?”

“Perhaps she is,” the sisters said.

“If you can change aspects of me, can you change that? Can you make it so, in my next life, I give her more chances? I don’t do any of this?” the Hero asked. “So I can not hate what she represents? So she can be one of us?”

“There are limits to what we can change, Hero. Only that which was already at the whims of fate. Your decisions are your own, we cannot change them for you,” the sisters said.

“But you are the fates, can’t you decide it for me? Fix it?” the Hero asked. “Is it not by your hand that our fates are predetermined?”

“No,” the sisters said. “It is by you that your fate is determined. We merely see the threads, can merely tug on them. Guide them. In the end, every choice and decision that alters the weave is done by your hand. Fate is determined by who you are, the result known to us only once you become who you become.”

The Hero sighed and gave a nod. Right. It was a stupid thought, anyway. What could they possibly do to stop this?

“But…” the sisters said. Slowly they reached out and the strings of fate appeared once more. “Perhaps we can give you one small chance.”

“A chance?” the Hero asked. “How?”

“Your first encounter with demons has always been one of violence and death,” the sisters said. “We can alter that. But there’s no way to know how it will change things. How it will change you. Every alteration, no matter how small, can have incredible effects. Not just on you, but on others around you. Effects you may never even see, yet become so important.”

The Hero nodded. “But it will change things?”

“Perhaps,” the sisters said. “That depends on who you are. It will be a small, gentle change. One tiny encounter where the threads are drawn just a hairsbreadth closer so they touch. But it will be your first. Who knows? It’s not as if you could do much worse.”

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The Hero stared out over the lake, ignoring the pounding rain. He never minded, it wasn’t as if he ever got sick anymore. Nobody would come out here in this rain, either. It meant he could be alone.

Nobody noticed if you cried in the rain. He wasn’t supposed to cry anymore. He was the ‘man of the keep’. He needed to be strong, for his mother’s sake. How could he kill those bandits and still be a crybaby?

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He didn’t know.

But he did know the things they called him. When they didn’t know he was listening. When they didn’t hear him. They called him a monster. A demon. They believed he killed his father and all those men. Or that he’d made everything up. How could a child kill grown men? What happened there was impossible.

His own mother wouldn’t look at him anymore. He often wondered if she saw a demon now. In the end he only ever wanted one thing, though. His daddy back. Why did he have to go and leave him alone?

He didn’t want to be a lord of this keep. He didn’t want to carry his father’s sword. He just wanted is family. He just--

He jumped when he heard rapid splashing. Nobody would be out here in the rain, so why had something been splashing around? What was out there? Slowly he got to his feet and started to walk towards the source.

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“Take it,” the Hero said before holding out the small bundle of dried meats. The winged demon stared back at him, her head cocked to the side. But, very slowly, she reached out to take them from him. Once he let go she quickly pulled them to her chest before she turned and ran into the woods, leaving him behind.

He’d always heard that demons were such terrible, horrible monsters. But she hadn’t been anything more than a child, even younger than him. Were there other demons like her?

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“I don’t hate all of them,” the Hero said. “Most may be terrible, but some aren’t much different than you or I.”

The prince laughed before shaking his head. “If you say so, Hero. If you ask me, the only good demon is a dead demon. How many demons have you killed now. A hundred? A thousand? And after all that, how many good ones have you met?”

“Not many, but a few,” the Hero said. “Enough to know that sometimes I have to stay my instincts to cut them all down. But is it not the duty of the Hero to protect all in our world who need it, regardless of where they are from? So who knows? Maybe this Korgron is another one of the good ones. There’s only one way to find out. Let the others know, we leave at dawn. For now, I need some rest.”

“As you wish,” the prince said before bowing politely. Always eager to please, that one.

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“So you’re the Hero?” Korgron asked, giving him an amused grin while she stared down at him from her vantage point on the walls surrounding the city.

“Indeed,” the Hero said. “We’ve come here to see Lady Korgron, the princess of Kazora!”

“Oh, have you now?” Korgron asked. “Very well. However, all humans who desire to come here must first pass a single challenge. Capture a doomnetter and bring it back here, alive. You have one week. Depending on how you succeed or fail will determine your right to meet with the princess.”

The Hero frowned when he stared up at the woman up on the wall. He swore when he met this Korgron he was going to have to have a word with her about the guards she had stationed around the city. But it wasn’t as if he had much choice. “Very well. What is a doomnetter?”

He wasn’t sure, but he swore he heard laughing from up there for a few moments before she started to describe it.

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Korgron sat on the edge of the battlements, her eyes locked on the horizon. The Hero slowly walked up besides her before leaning against them. “Do you feel better?” he asked.

“Of course,” Korgron said before glancing over at him. “The Demon Lord is dead. Don’t you feel happy?”

“There’s still a lot to do,” the Hero said.

“There will always be more. But there’s a chance for peace now,” Korgron said. “We were never meant to be enemies. It’ll take time, but they’ll come around.”

“Before or after the Inferno God awakens?” the Hero asked in a joking tone.

Korgron gave a light laugh and shook her head. “Oh? Are you starting to doubt, oh great Hero? What happened to ‘this is our destiny’ and ‘we cannot fail’?” she asked in a teasing tone. “Don’t tell me now you’re starting to get cold feet.”

“Never,” the Hero said. Very slowly, however, his hand reached out to grab hers. She paused and looked down at it.

“It’s not going to be easy,” Korgron said with a small smile. “Many won’t accept it. The divide between humans and demons runs deep.”

“This is our destiny,” the Hero said. “We cannot fail.”

Korgron laughed despite herself before reached out and shoving him off the battlements. Fortunately, she was kind enough to cast a single slowing spell on his way down so he wouldn’t get too hurt.

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The Hero gave a light laugh when Qakog glared at him. “You shouldn’t have come,” the demon said.

“She’s one of my friends, isn’t she?” the Hero asked.

“Was,” Qakog said. “Now we’re not so sure.”

“We’re not or you’re not?” the Hero asked.

Qakog didn’t answer.

The Hero gave a sigh before shaking his head. “I didn’t come here to bother her. I know she has a lot on her plate as it is, trying to maintain order in all of… this,” he said before motioning towards the darkened skies.

“The mess you cast our world into?” Qakog asked.

“Just let her know that something’s wrong,” the Hero said. “Andreas and Searle have disappeared. Hardwin is searching for them, but there’s no telling what’s going on. There’s stories of the Demon Lord returning and if he decided to seek vengeance…”

“I’ll let her know. You can leave,” Qakog said. “Why don’t you go find a doomnetter and leave us alone?”

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Joan paused, the spoonful of soup halfway up to her mouth. She then glanced around the table at Searle, Bauteut, Isla, Korgron and Andreas. Slowly she lowered the spoon.

“Is something wrong?” Korgron asked.

“Can I ask you something?” Joan asked. “And can you promise not to lie to me or tease me over it?”

“What?” Korgron asked. “Joan…”

“Just promise me. Please,” Joan asked. “I need to know.”

“I promise I’ll do my best,” Korgron said.

Joan nodded. She could feel the tension rising in the room, but she couldn’t not ask now. She had to know. If her suspicions were correct it changed so much. “There’s no such thing as a doomnetter, is there?”

There was a long, long moment of silence before, promptly, Korgron, Andreas and Isla began to laugh, the latter nearly choking on her soup. Joan growled before reaching out to grab one of the small loaves of bread and chuck it at the Chosen of the Crown. “I can’t believe you did that to me SO MANY TIMES!”

“I can’t believe you only just realized!” Korgron said, a hand over her mouth and tears of laughter now going down her cheeks.