“You know what we could really use right now?” Zorn asked.

“A Chosen?” Joan asked.

“A dragon?” Bauteut asked.

“I was going to say an escape route, but either of those would be nice,” Zorn said.

Joan couldn’t blame him. She could hear Penthe behind them, tearing through the stone holding her captive. She wasn’t sure what they’d do next to try and escape, but it’d need to be good. The weird chambers they were in were dark, but not impossible to see the walls of. Considering she wasn’t using her spell to see in the dark, it could only mean there was light coming from somewhere.

Her supposition was answered a few moments later when they turned a corner. A light at the end of the tunnel. A way out.

Behind them she heard a loud, furious yell and an explosion, making her cringe. She grabbed Bauteut’s hand and gave it a little squeeze, picking up her speed.

“We’re almost out,” Bauteut said.

Unfortunately, that didn’t really mean much and Joan was willing to bet that Bauteut knew that. They didn’t know where they were, had no real way to call for help, even if they did the Chosen were unlikely to be able to come save them and escaping Penthe in the open would likely not be much easier outside than it would be inside.

Still, it might give them more options and options was something they desperately--

And there was an option.

Joan’s eyes widened when the tunnel opened up into a large chamber. While the chamber had a rather unpleasant scent of dirt, fur and other things she didn’t want to imagine, especially when something squished underfoot, it also held something else.

Another doorway, dimly glowing in the darkness.

“Joan, don’t even think it,” Bauteut called back to her. “If you get hurt again then--” The ground under them began to rumble. A moment later the exit ahead of them closed off, plunging them into a deeper darkness only illuminated by the dim door. “Um, Zorn, you have a ring for this?”

“I’m looking,” Zorn said. “I have one that could get me out, but I’m not sure--”

“Go!” Joan said.

“What?” Zorn asked, stopping to look back at her. “What about you and--”

“Just go,” Bauteut said. “See if you can find any way to get us help. We’ll stall.”

“But—” Zorn tried to say, only to get cut off quickly.

“We’re not going to be able to beat her,” Joan said. “She could fight Korgron, weakened or not. This isn’t a winnable fight alone. You know your rings, you have the best chance of getting help, so go!”

Zorn stared for a moment before, finally, he pulled out two rings. “These two, here, take them. They’ll help. I hope. They’ll make you tougher.” He tossed them to Bauteut before pulling out another ring and then running into the spikes, seemingly walking through them.

Joan glanced back. She could hear the heavy steps of those boots pursuing them. An idea quickly came to mind, though she wasn’t sure how effective it would be. “I have an idea.”

“If those aren’t terrifying final words,” Bauteut said.

“Not the time,” Joan said before pulling off the ring that Andreas had given her. It had worked against the fae, it might work against Penthe. This place was certainly dark enough. “Put this on.”

“Why?” Bauteut asked.

“It’ll hide you,” Joan said.

“What about you?” Bauteut asked.

“I’m going through the door,” Joan said.

“Joan, you--”

“There are other exits,” Joan said. “I can escape through them. If you are hidden while Zorn and I are gone, then she’ll likely keep going to try and find us. Believe in me, please, just this once. We don’t have any time for anything else.”

Bauteut didn’t move for a second, but those steps were getting closer. She gave a sigh before taking the ring, then stuffing one of the other ones into Joan’s hand. “I don’t know what this does. Just be careful.”

“You too,” Joan said before she slid the other ring on. It felt rough, stony. She almost swore she could feel it taking effect, though she couldn’t be certain it wasn’t just her imagination. She then turned and ran towards the door, only pausing for a moment to glance back towards Bauteut and ensure she was, in fact, gone. At least the shadow hiding spell in the ring worked on her.

Now if only she hadn’t lied to Bauteut. She hadn’t seen other exits in that realm, but she hadn’t had time to explore it either. She hoped there were.

Joan ran through the chamber, trying desperately to ignore the sound of whatever she was stepping in squishing underfoot. She was almost there, the door glimmering tantalizing ahead of her. Then she heard those heavy metal boots run into the chamber.

“Hero?” Penthe asked.

Joan stopped, her hand only a few inches from the doorway. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from pausing and glancing back. “Penthe.”

“Where are the other two?” Penthe asked, stopped and turned towards her.

“We only had a way for two of us to escape,” Joan said. “I hoped if I stayed behind, you’d let them go.”

“Do you truly believe you can fight me alone?” Penthe asked. “As arrogant as ever, I see.”

“I don’t think I can fight you at all. Stall, maybe. But fight? Unlikely. My sword can’t even penetrate your armor,” Joan said. “But frankly, I don’t want to fight you. It doesn’t feel right.”

“That door won’t save you,” Penthe said. “You can’t use it.”

“How do you know that?” Joan asked.

“Those doors aren’t meant for the Hero,” Penthe said. “Just accept your death peacefully.”

“I didn’t accept it the first time, why would I the second?” Joan asked. “We don’t have to fight. I know you’re something. You’re not like the other demons. You don’t have to serve the Demon Lord. I just--”

“You know nothing,” Penthe said.

“And you do?” Joan asked.

“I know more than you,” Penthe said.

“Wow, and here I thought I was supposed to be the childish one,” Joan said. Penthe was coming closer, though. She felt the beginnings of a plan start to form. Even if there was no escape, there might be an opportunity to fight back. She quickly turned around and put her back to the door, her hand just a tiny hairsbreadths from touching it. “You know, you almost killed Korgron.”

“Unlikely. I am, however, going to kill you,” Penthe said.

“Why are you so set on that?” Joan asked. “Do you want this world to be destroyed?”

“There you go again,” Penthe said. “The Hero I know so well. Are you still so certain of your own importance? That the world will die if not for you? You won’t be the first hero to die, you won’t be the…”

“Last?” Joan asked.

Penthe stopped, staring down at her. Joan couldn’t help being grateful for the way her armor glowed. It at least made her easy to follow. “You said I killed you before. Once before.”

“You did,” Joan said.

“What did you mean by that?” Penthe asked.

“What?” Joan asked.

“Which time that I killed you?” Penthe asked.

“When I was the Hero,” Joan said. “About fourteen years ago? Maybe fifteen? Before I had the Star?”

Penthe didn’t say anything, she just stared at her.

“Penthe?” Joan asked.

“You truly don’t know who I am, do you?” Penthe asked. “How can you know my name but not know me?”

“I don’t know. Blame the Three Sisters, they’re the ones who never explain anything,” Joan said. “I swear I don’t know anything else. There’s a lot of things I can’t remember. Sometimes it’s just feelings. Or when I try to remember too hard it makes my head hurt. But I think we were friends o--”

“WE WERE NEVER FRIENDS!” Penthe’s voice roared, causing Joan to struggle to not shove herself back into the door.

“I’m sorry!” Joan said. “I really am! I don’t know what I did, I don’t know how I hurt you. I swear I don’t. I know it’s important and I probably deserve this hate, but I swear I’m trying to fix it. I’m just not sure how!”

Penthe shook her head. “There’s only one thing you can do, Hero.”

“Die?” Joan asked.

“Exactly, you are finally understanding,” Penthe said before she started towards her again.

“Wait!” Joan said quickly. To her surprise, Penthe actually did. “Listen, please. I know you hate me. I get it. But think about this. I’m missing information I likely need. You probably are too. You said last time you over reacted? How do you know you’re not doing the same here?”

“You do need to die,” Penthe said.

“Fine, I need to die,” Joan said. “But do I need to die right now? What if you kill me and end up regretting it?”

Penthe was silent for a few more moments. “Perhaps you are right.”

“Wait, really?” Joan asked. “I mean, of course I am.”

“Perhaps I may be-- no. NO! Not again. I am not falling for any more of your tricks, Arta. This cycle ends now,” Penthe said before running at her.

Joan froze for a moment. That name sent chills down her spine, but also a very strange feeling of remorse. Had she heard it before? No. Maybe? She yelped when she realized how close Penthe was and pushed back into the door. The stone gave way and she tumbled back.

Joan felt a moment of horror when she realized that Penthe hadn’t stopped. The armor clad figure’s gauntlets came through the doorway…

Only for a strange dark glow to envelop them and bring them to a crawl. Penthe pulled her hands back, out through the doorway before staring at Joan. “How? HOW? You can’t go through there! The doors can’t open for you!” Penthe’s voice was nearly as panicked as it had been when she mentioned the Nameless One.

“What?” Joan asked, just as filled with panic. “How are you still moving? It’s supposed to stop everything!” Was this door special? Did it not stop time? Did that mean she could get the Chosen through it, assuming she lived?

“How are YOU?” Penthe asked. “You’re not… you can’t be. You’re not supposed to… the Hero can’t. What are you?” She reached out her hand again towards her, but the moment it crossed the threshold of the doorway the glow enveloped it again and it lowered slightly. She pulled it back a moment later. “You’re no Hero. You CAN’T be!”

“I’m not anymore! Who ARE you?” Joan asked.

“Who are you?” Penthe asked. “Why are you able to do this?”

“I told you who I am! I’m the Hero! Kind of,” Joan said. “You already figured that out before, though.”

Penthe reached her hand out again and the glow enveloped it. This time she pushed herself forward, gripping the wall and slowly pressing her body through the threshold. Joan quickly crawled backwards and away, staring up at the woman. The glow now enveloped her whole body and even in the armor she could see the woman was struggling to stand.

“You’re hurting yourself,” Joan said softly.

“I am fine,” Penthe said before taking a slow step forward and reaching towards her. “You WILL die.”

Joan blinked and then smiled. “Okay.” She reached out and grabbed the hand before, with a mighty tug, she yanked the woman forward. Penthe let out a shriek before landing on the ground face first. “I can see how fine you are. Wow. You know, usually I’m the one doing stupid, reckless things.”

“I will kill you,” Penthe said.

“I don’t think you could kill a mouse like this,” Joan said. “In fact, I don’t think you could do much of anything like this. So I want some answers.”

“You’re pushing your luck, Hero,” Penthe said before she started to sit up, though Joan could see how much she was struggling.

“They’re simple questions,” Joan said. “Why do you want me dead?”

“I hate you,” Penthe said.

“So? I hate a lot of people and I don’t want them dead,” Joan said. “And you want me dead enough to doom the world?”

“It’s not dooming the world,” Penthe said before she collapsed back onto her stomach. “If you’re going to try and kill me, just do it already.”

“Maybe,” Joan said. “You seemed surprised I managed to get into here. Why?”

Penthe gave a grunt, but didn’t answer.

“I’m certainly surprised you can, but I also don’t really know how these doors operate. So maybe I just don’t understand them. But I do know when I was the Hero, I couldn’t enter them. Yet now I can. Do you know why?”

Penthe gave another grunt.

“Great to know you still won’t give me any answers. Fine, how about this,” Joan said. “You’re not a Chosen. I know all the Chosen. But you’re not one of them. So why is it I feel like you’re not my enemy?”

“I am your enemy,” Penthe said.

“You were,” Joan said.

“Am.”

“Agree to disagree,” Joan said.

“I killed you,” Penthe said.

“I probably deserved it,” Joan said.

“What?” Penthe asked, her head jerking up slightly before it slammed back to the ground. “Urg…”

“I said I probably deserved it,” Joan said.

Penthe was silent for a long time then. Finally she spoke up. “I will tell you, if you will answer one question for me.”

“Fine,” Joan said.

“If I kill you, will you come back?” Penthe asked.

Joan stared at Penthe for a few moments before shaking her head. “I don’t know. I mean, maybe? But I don’t think I do. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love it if I did. Maybe another chance to fix things. Can you believe I kind of chose this? I made so many mistakes with this one. I’m just an orphan from some small fishing village that got burned down now. Nothing flashy or amazing at all, how’s that for a lame start? But I don’t think that’s what will happen.”

“You’re stalling,” Penthe said before trying to sit up once more and collapsing again.

“A bit,” Joan said. “I’m not sure what to say, though. I think it will mean no more heroes. I’m gone for good. Maybe I’ll be reborn, but there’s so little time now that I’m doubtful I could save the world by the time I could do anything. Either way, there is no more hero. I may have some of his memories, but I’m not really him anymore. You killed him, for good. Congratulations on that, by the way. I have no idea why the fates specifically wanted you to do it. Or maybe you were the only one who would and could. Or maybe it was just chance. The gods are like that, aren’t they? Throwing random things into other things until there’s nothing but chaos?”

Penthe gave a small grunt. “So you’re nothing more than the final sputtering embers of a burned out fire. Fitting.”

“More or less,” Joan said. “Though, honestly, I’d really like it if you called me something a little cooler than that. Like, the last torch of a raging inferno?”

“You’re acting like a child,” Penthe said before dropping once more.

“Well, I AM a child. Please don’t tell anyone I said that,” Joan said. “It’d be strange to be my height if I was an adult. Though I guess that does happen from time to time. But--”

“Will you stop making jokes?” Penthe yelled before trying to sit up once more, this time managing to get an arm under herself.

“Fine, fine,” Joan said. “I answered your question, so your turn. Who are you?”

Penthe gave a light growl before finally answering her. “Very well, Hero. I will keep my end of the bargain. I am the Guide.”

“Guide to what?” Joan asked.

“The Guide,” Penthe said. “Just the Guide.”

“That tells me literally nothing,” Joan said.

Penthe collapsed once more, though Joan suspected it was more out of frustration than anything else this time. “I hate you. How can you know so little?”

“Well, excuse me. There wasn’t exactly a guide on how all this-- oh. Ohhhhh. Did you mean like, the Hero’s guide?” Joan said. “Is that why you can’t move? Is that the gods pushing down on you? Are they mad because you’re trying to kill me?”

“I really, really hate you,” Penthe said.

“It is, isn’t it? Hey! Gods! Thanks, I owe you one!” Joan yelled, though she didn’t really expect an answer and, of course, didn’t receive one. “You know, this is one of the most relaxing talks I’ve had with someone who’s trying to kill me in a while. I think I needed this. Really puts things in perspective. Soooo, am I right? Are you supposed to be my guide?”

“Yes,” Penthe said.

“Wow,” Joan said. “You know, you’re a really terrible guide. Most guides don’t try to kill the people they’re guiding.”

“Still you make jokes,” Penthe said. “If you aim to kill me, then do it already. You have your answer. It’s meaningless now.”

“Meaningless?” Joan asked. “Why?”

“You won’t remember this,” Penthe said. “I’ve tried to kill you over so many lives, what’s one more?”

Joan blinked a few times and then, very slowly, the smile fell from her lips. “You know, I thought you were like me for a bit. Or, at least, in some ways. But you’re not, are you?”

“What?” Penthe asked.

“The Nameless One showed me two lives interwoven with my own when I was the Hero. One of them was the Demon Lord and one of them was you, wasn’t it?” Joan asked.

Penthe didn’t respond, instead just laying there.

“The Three Sisters said I knew you once and that you knew me now. Or then?” Joan said. “But I can’t remember you at all. If you were supposed to be my guide I’m pretty sure I’d have remembered you. Then there’s that ‘Arta’ name. Sounds familiar, but no headaches so I’m pretty sure I never went by it. It’s not a very strong feeling, though, so I don’t know if it’s important. You, though? Whenever I think about you too much my head starts to hurt. Like a memory that’s just there on the edge of my mind’s tongue or something. Just out of reach. Do you know what that’s like? To know you know something important, but no matter how hard you try to remember it it just slips through your fingers like water?”

Penthe didn’t answer, but her armor was twitching lightly.

“Instead, all I have is this weird feeling that I can trust you,” Joan said. “Like I do with the Chosen. This kind of knowledge that they’re my friends. I have a lot of happy memories with them. Painful ones, too. It--”

“It’s pointless,” Penthe said.

“What?” Joan asked.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Penthe said.

“What am I trying to do?” Joan asked.

“Turn me to joining you again,” Penthe said.

“Not really,” Joan said. “I just want to understand. Why turn on me? I mean, there’s a whole lot of reasons. I’m sure I’ve done some terrible things. I was the Hero, after all. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that being the Hero means you’re an utter idiot who refuses to acknowledge anything around you. Even the stuff you desire the most. The Hero couldn’t understand that. But I’m trying to. So I want to know. Please, tell me what I did and how I can make up for it.”

Penthe didn’t respond, silent within the armor.

“Who knows? Maybe I needed a guide? Because I certainly didn’t have one,” Joan said. “But, honestly? I didn’t stop being the Hero just so I could give up. I’m stubborn like that. We’ll stop the Inferno God, somehow.”

“Stop it,” Penthe said once more, her voice almost whiny now.

“Then tell me,” Joan said. “You know so much, stop hinting at it and just give me a straight answer. For once, just once, I’d like someone to give me a straight answer. I’m not getting them from the fae, from the fates, certainly not from the gods. I’d ask the Demon Lord but even I’m not that daft. So just tell me. What did I do? Why do we have to be enemies?”

“You know nothing,” Penthe said softly.

“I want to know, though,” Joan said softly. “Please, give me some answers. Guide me,” Joan said. “I messed up, okay? I made mistakes. But I want to save the world. Please. I just want to save the world. That’s all. I don’t care if I die. I don’t care if I have to get hurt. I don’t even care if I’m reborn or my soul shatters!”

Penthe muttered to herself once more, though Joan couldn’t understand the words through the armor.

“You say you were my guide,” Joan said softly. “You were over zealous before. I made mistakes. I hurt you. But I need help. I need a guide. I need to save the world. After that, I don’t care. But this is your chance. You have the dying embers of the Hero begging you to tell them what to do. I was arrogant, I made mistakes. I hurt you. I refused to listen. You asked me to beg before, I’m doing it again. What more do you want? Just tell me and I’ll do it.”

“My left hand,” Penthe said.

“Huh?”

“Take off my gauntlet,” Penthe said once more.

Joan felt a small smile creep up her face. Finally. She crawled forward and began to tug at the gauntlet on Penthe’s wrist. It came off with surprising ease and revealed a small, smooth hand beneath it. Which, unlike the armor, wasn’t covered in the glow. Joan only had a moment to realize what that meant before the hand drew a small, arcane symbol in the air. She tried to pull back, but it was too late.

The ground shifted under the pair of them suddenly and Joan had just a fraction of a second to cast a counter spell, trying to stop it from happening. Unfortunately her spell was too rushed and unable to stop what had started. The ground launched both of them out through the door. Joan landed on her stomach on something squishy and slightly damp, which she only spared a second or two to think about before she tried to get up.

An armored boot was pushed down on her back a moment later, knocking her back down to the ground. Joan craned her head back and saw Penthe towering over her, putting the gauntlet back on her left hand.

Joan stared up at the woman. “You’re a terrible guide.”

Penthe was silent, the boot not moving.

“Are you going to kill me, then?” Joan asked.

“I should,” Penthe said.

However, there was no pain. If anything, the boot seemed to lift up slightly.

“Shouldn’t have let you talk,” Penthe said. “Should have killed you. I should know better.”

“Story of my life, really. Frankly, more people should probably not let me talk,” Joan said. “But maybe not being over zealous is good? So no killing me?”

“Perhaps not,” Penthe said. “Perhaps things have changed.”

“Then that means you’ll--” Joan’s words were cut off by the boot pushing down again.

“We are still enemies, Hero,” Penthe said. “But the embers of my enemy are not as dangerous as the raging inferno you desired to be. You will likely snuff yourself out eventually.”

“You would be surprised how many people say that about me,” Joan said with a light chuckle. “Maybe I should try and take a bit better care of myself if even my ‘enemies’ are worried about me.”

“And still you make jests,” Penthe said.

“It’s that or focus on whatever it is I landed on,” Joan said.

“Whatever you-- ew,” Penthe said and, to her surprise, the boot pulled off. “Where is the key?”

“Err, in my left hand but--” Joan let out a yelp when her left hand was suddenly gripped and she was almost dragged to her feet. The gauntlet squeezed the wrist so tightly that, for a moment, she thought it was going to be torn off. However, finally it was let go and Joan collapsed with a yelp.

“I will allow you to live for now, Hero,” Penthe said. “As much pleasure as it would give me to end your life now, I must be careful. If you truly desire to ‘fix’ this world, do it fast.”

“What?” Joan asked. “You’re--”

“Do not misunderstand this small mercy, Hero,” Penthe said. “I will kill you.”

“I still think we’re supposed to be friends,” Joan said.

“Then you are a fool who knows nothing,” Penthe said.

“Because everyone lies to me or tells me just bits and pieces,” Joan said. “I didn’t listen before, but now I am. I won’t give up. Not on this world, not on the Chosen and not on you. I will stop the Inferno God. I’ll figure out what’s causing all this. I will fix this.”

“You’re hopeless,” Penthe said. “You don’t even know me and yet still you think me your ally.”

“What can I say? I have really good instincts when it comes to these things,” Joan said. “Besides, believing in others is what I do best.”

“What did you…” Penthe said, her voice shaken. She then shook her head and waved her hand. Dirt and rock enveloped her and when it crumbled away she was gone.

Joan gave a soft sigh and just laid there, staring through the dark at the ceiling of the cavern. “Bauteut? You here?”

“Yes,” Bauteut said.

“Am I an idiot?” Joan asked.

“Heavens yes,” Bauteut said.

“Am I still an idiot if I know I am?” Joan asked.

“I think that just makes you a bigger one,” Bauteut said before seeming to appear out of the shadows, kneeling by her. “What happened?”

“I don’t even know,” Joan said. “I think I know Penthe a bit more, though.”

“Or Gil,” Bauteut said.

“Whoever,” Joan said. “A lot of me aches. Also, apparently I’m Arta now. No idea who that is, but hey. Progress. I think.”

“Nothing seems to be broken. But we have a problem,” Bauteut said.

“Huh?” Joan asked.

“We’re still trapped here.”

“What?” Joan asked before looking towards the exit which was still sealed with stone. She gave a light, unhappy groan. “You know what? Fine. I’m fine with this.”

“You don’t sound fine,” Bauteut said.

“Fine is relative,” Joan said. “None of my bones are broken and she didn’t kill me. Didn’t take my arm, either. I kind of know who she is now. I have a whole list of things to ask the Three Sisters once I gather the Chosen, but what else is new? Wait, I didn’t find out why she freaked out about the Nameless One! Ughhhh. But you know what? Progress. Not dead. Got some answers. Know more questions to ask. One step at a time. So long as I don’t get another--”

Light filled the chamber when the stone blocking it collapsed. She looked over at it but, unfortunately, the bright light blinded her and she had to cover her eyes. “Ow ow ow.”

“Hey, uhhh. Great, you two are alive,” Zorn’s voice could be heard.

“Blind, messy, achy but alive,” Joan said. “Find out where we are?”

She could hear heavy footsteps making their way towards them. She squinted over her arm, trying to see who was approaching.

For a moment, she felt relief when she realized it was an elf. Good, so they were in elven lands.

That relief faded when a spear was lowered towards her face and she saw another elf doing the same to Bauteut.

“What now?” Joan asked. “Could people please stop threatening to kill me until AFTER I do something?”

“Please come quietly,” the elf standing over her said. “You are under arrest for suspicion of consorting with the demonic traitor, Neia of the Tainted House.”

Joan just blinked and gave a soft sigh. Slowly she lifted her hands and started to sit up. “I can’t even be mad. By the gods I’m annoyed. But not mad. Can I at least take a bath before I’m thrown into a prison? Or at least thrown in a lake or something?”

“No, you ca-- what are you covered in?” the elf asked.

“I don’t want to know,” Joan said. “It has been a rough day.”

“We’ll get you cleaned up,” the elf said.

“Um, Joan? Should I be worried?” Bauteut asked. “This seems like a worried moment.”

“Only if you fight,” Joan said. “It’s fine, really. Just do what you’re told and we’ll explain everything. Elven prisons are usually pretty safe.” She made a note about that ‘Tainted House’ nonsense. So things had elevated to THAT level already. Fine. She at least knew how to fix it.

“Really?” Bauteut asked.

“Yes,” Joan said. “It’s when we get out of there that we’ll have to worry about dying. But hopefully the Chosen will be back by then.”

“Oh…” Bauteut said.

Joan wondered if she should be more worried. Probably. Especially once one of the elves noticed the door and started yelling about it. She wasn’t, though. She was worried about the Chosen, hoping they’d be safe. Secure. Were they still fighting the first of the envoys? Possibly. Would they defeat it? She hoped so, or they were all doomed. She couldn’t do anything about that right now, anyway. She had to believe in them, as there was nothing else she could do. Even if she really wasn’t the best at believing in others, she could at least pretend she was for now.

Even when she had thick wooden binds put on her wrists she could only give them a small, halfhearted look before shrugging.

She swore when she saw the Three Sisters again, and she WOULD see them again, she was going to have a few choice words for them. If she was supposed to have some kind of guide, why wasn’t she told? ‘You knew her once, she knows you now’ her butt. There was a whole lot in there for her to unpack as it was. Ugh. There were SO MANY more questions. Why didn’t they tell her she had a guide to begin with?

She wondered if the fates could feel how annoyed she was with them right now. Why had she never been told about any of this? Why was she only finding out about it now when it tried to murder her?

Joan felt petty annoyance growing in her. Screw it, then. She’d save the world, she’d save Penthe. Damn it. She’d save EVERYONE. She’d stop all of this chaos and then she’d rub it in the Three Sister’s faces. And the Nameless One’s. Hell. She’d rub it in Penthe’s face too. She’d save all of them and drag them kicking and screaming into the future if she had to drop kick all of them in their stupid, smug, never giving a straight answer to ANY of her questions faces.

She was Joan.

Sure, she was no longer the Hero.

But she’d be DAMNED if she wouldn’t be the pettiest not-a-hero this world ever saw and save all of them in spite of themselves.

Joan paused for a moment. She swore she heard gleeful giggling for a second then, but when she listened she couldn’t hear anything. Great, just what she needed. To start losing her mind.