Even four months later, I could still feel the bite of my blade as it tore through the neck of Zagrith Grimsbane, the Abyssal King. He was far, far from the first man I’ve killed, and yet I expected it to feel… different somehow. He’d killed thousands, and he’d been responsible for the deaths of who knows how many more. He’d been on the cusp of bringing about the apocalypse. Even as I’d separated his head from his shoulders, he’d been chanting his corrupted spell. Trying with his very last breath to grant himself the unimaginable power that would have secured his reign.

And when I watched his head roll away from me and his body slump to the ground, the only thought in my mind was to wonder who was next. I turned to fight his servants only for them to either collapse, no longer powered or enslaved by his dark magics, or surrender now that their liege was gone and their binds were released.

I remembered the cheering and the celebrations that followed. The throngs of people that stopped to shake my hand and pat my back and give me teary embraces that my body returned even as my mind didn’t. Everyone drinking and fucking with wild abandon. It had probably been the single largest celebration in the last century, and I’d spent the entire time completely miserable.

I hung around long enough to make sure there were no major issues. Long enough for the heroes to be given honors and titles and land and riches. I was one of them, even if it never quite felt like it, which meant I got a share of the rewards. I’d left it all behind when I slipped out of the capital. Where I was going, I wouldn’t need it. Grimsbane was dead, which meant I was no longer needed either.

Well, I hadn’t left everything. The cursed blade I’d used to kill Grimsbane sat next to me, and the flickering of the firelight always made it look more menacing. It rode the line between longsword and bastard sword, though so much power raced through me when I wielded it that its weight hardly mattered. Its scabbard was made of a metal that seemed almost weightless, and a clasp held the blade in its embrace while also containing the sword’s curse. A bloodred gem not unlike an eye stared at me from its hilt, and I knew that if I drew it the blade would be tinged with red as if I’d just recently bathed it in blood. I hated that blade with every part of me, but I’d also never met anyone else who could wield it. Not without turning into an unstoppable bloodthirsty monster, at least. I’d been created for the sole purpose of swinging it and not dying horribly, but even that role was almost at its end.

One more day of travel, and I could finally rest.

The moment a woman’s voice broke the silence, I knew my day was about to turn into a massive headache. “We need to talk, Godslayer,” she said.

I leapt to my feet and called upon my shadows. They didn’t answer. I lunged for my blade, but my fingers passed through it like it was made of smoke. No, like I was made of smoke. I froze, then turned back to where I’d been sitting. I saw my own form slumped against the tree, but I could see my chest rising and falling ever so slightly. I wasn’t dead, at least.

“If you’re quite finished,” the woman said, “then please, take a seat.”

None of my skills activated, which meant the woman either held no malice towards me or was weaker than I was. Considering I was currently being projected outside of my body away from my skills, I knew which option I’d put my coin on. Whatever she’d done to me, there was nothing I could do about it but play along and bide my time.

While I moved around the fire, I finally got a good look at my visitor. To say she was attractive would be like calling a raging inferno a little warm. Her face was heart shaped and her features were perfectly symmetrical and alluringly soft. She had long golden hair that flowed over her flawless bronzed skin that glowed in the firelight. Flowing white robes swayed in a wind I couldn’t feel, and they left very little of her voluptuous proportions to the imagination. I could very clearly make out every detail of her body, down to the nipples poking through the fabric and the faintest shadow of the curls between her legs.

From how hard it was to drag my eyes from her body, I knew I was being magically charmed. She had an aura that drew the gaze to her assets. One designed to be warming and comforting and disarming. I could feel my body reacting to hers against my will and knew it had to be powerful magic, but I managed to pull my gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were a mesmerizing swirl of warm oranges, golds, and violets, and I knew the moment I looked into them and felt an intense pressure on the back of my neck who—or rather, what—was sitting across from me.

“Whatever you want from me, goddess, the answer is no.”

Her soft, perfect lips quirked upward. Lips that begged me to taste them against every sense I had “Are you certain? You haven’t even heard what it is I have to say.”

I didn’t bother sitting. This would be a short conversation. “You need something from me. You gods always do. Unfortunately, you have nothing I want.”

Her eyes shimmered. “I’d hardly approach the Godslayer empty handed.”

I wonder if she knew she was using one of the very few titles I’d gained over the years that I didn’t despise. She undoubtedly did. Flattery? Or could it be an olive branch? “The only things I want, you have no power to grant me.”

“Are you certain of that?”

There was no trace of deceit on her face, so I sat down. “Considering you’re holding me hostage, I guess I have no choice.”

She clasped her hands in her lap. “Oh, Zaren. There is always a choice.”

Sure there was. In my experience though, that choice was usually between two giant piles of shit. “Just get on with what you want. If memory serves, only oracles can meet with gods without torching their souls.” My soul wasn’t exactly run of the mill, but it would be best for everyone if I didn’t die until I found the deepest darkest hole I could. I didn’t want to leave that blade for someone else to find. It was the last thing I could possibly offer this realm.

“Very well. I need your help to save this world.”

A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “Already done. Find another monkey to dance for you.”

“I’m sorry to say, but you and your little group of friends didn’t save the world. You only earned it a stay of execution.”

Great. Wonderful, even. I was right about the headache, at least. “Grimsbane lives?”

She hid her mouth behind her hand and laughed. A soft laugh that tugged at emotions I’d left dead and buried long ago. “No, that sword of yours made it quite impossible for him to resurrect. Grimsbane is dead, but I’m afraid you were too late. He may not have finished his summoning ritual, but he got far enough to attract the attention of the god he was trying to channel.”

That only made me laugh harder. “Sorry, lady, but Godslayer is just the name of my class. I don’t think I actually have the juice to take one on.”

That seemed to amuse her. “I’m well aware. I don’t need you to take on an outsider god, I need you to make sure he can’t get into this realm to begin with.”

I crossed my arms. “Alright, for the sake of conversation, what will you be doing in the meantime?”

“Whatever I can. As will the other gods, once they realize the threat we face, but you more than anyone know we are limited in how much we can interfere, even in this.” She must have read the look on my face. “They think the god will lose interest.”

“And you don’t?”

“The others don’t know what I do. They haven’t been paying close enough attention.” I saw the way her eyes slid towards the sword. “Your blade isn’t of this world. I’m sure of it. The moment you used it to sever the ritual, it sent ripples across the realms.”

It was true that the sigils on the blade were completely unlike anything I’d ever come across. I’d spent the last four months trying to find a way to destroy it, and not even the oldest books in Grimsbane’s keep had anything that even hinted at what the blade was. “I can’t help but wonder what your domain is since you know so much.”

That made her glance away. “Family. Love. Bonds.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” I stood. “Allura? I’m sitting in front of the fucking sex goddess? Yeah, this conversation is over. Put me back in my body so I can go bury myself alive like I planned.” 

She flushed. “I am not a sex goddess!” Suddenly, she was considerably less attractive and considerably more terrifying. Terrifying in a way that made my pants feel a little tighter, sure, but that wasn’t the issue currently. “I am a goddess of the bonds forged between those that love one another! Sex just happens to fall within my domain.” 

“Sure, sure. And what, if I may ask, is the boon your followers ask for most often?”

Her glare might have frightened anyone else, but there was nothing left she could do to me that hadn’t already been done. “Allura, I’ve buried everyone I’ve ever loved. There was a time where I begged you—any of you—to help them, and I got nothing in return. I hate the gods, but I hate you most of all.” 

If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought she actually looked ashamed. “I’ve watched you for a very long time, Zaren. You may not believe me now, but I will never lie to you. Ask me anything, and I will answer.”

I snorted. “Is that so? In that case, why did you leave him to his own devices?” It’s been years since I’d killed my master, and I still couldn’t say his name aloud.

“He played the system,” she said with a shrug. “There are very specific rules about when we can and cannot intervene. Your former master made sure to help both sides of the conflict just enough that neither side could or would take action. A dozen of my siblings had plans in the works to try and take him down, and they were infuriated that you beat them to it.”

Infuriating gods was nice, but that was hardly an answer I was a fan of. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t prayers exactly the window you assholes need to intervene?”

“Technically, but none of us were willing to go near you.” She paused. “Do you know the history of your class?”

“I know it’s been a pain in my ass.”

She smiled softly, but there was a sadness in her eyes. “You are the twelfth mortal to be given the class of Shadowborn in this realm. Do you know what the other eleven did?”

“Nothing good, I’m guessing.”

She inclined her head. “Wars between the gods’ chosen have been raging for millennia, but you know that.” This world rarely went a century without one god choosing a mortal to do their bidding and another god choosing a mortal to stop them. They were often resolved before the conflict hopped continents, but occasionally they escalated. Especially when more than two chosen were involved. “Every time a class in the Shadowborn tree has been involved, it was on the side of darkness. And every time, it resulted in a dark age. Your class is a harbinger of death and destruction, and the other gods were too busy trying to come up with a way to put you down to worry about trying to help you.”

It wasn’t every day you learned you were destined to destroy civilization. Any other day and I might have been flattered. “But not you. You’re different.”

“I was lucky,” she corrected. “We’re sitting here now because you are the first Shadowborn to fight on the side of light. If you agree to do it again, then this world might stand a chance.”

I believed her, but there was something she wasn’t telling me. “You said you were listening to my prayers. I know for a fact that the last time I asked anything of a god was long before I chose a side.”

Allura stood and walked until we were an arm’s length apart. “In all your prayers,” she reached out and trailed her fingertips down my cheek. Where they touched, it felt like fire was kissing its way down my face. Scalding hot, but comforting in a way I’d never known. “You never once prayed for yourself. You only ever prayed for others. No matter your situation. You had every right to turn into the monster we expected you to, but you never did.”

I brushed her hand away. “Fat lot of good that does me now.”

Her eyes twinkled. “Maybe, maybe not. Why don’t you ask me the question that’s burning you up?”

I didn’t want to. I was sure I wouldn’t give a damn about whatever it was she had to say, but I was terrified I would. “What could you possibly have to offer me?”

She smiled again, then drew from behind her a tall glass container. In it were over a dozen floating green flames, each the size of a bead. The container radiated magic, and more than one of my skills resonated with it. I sucked in my breath. Those flames couldn’t possibly be what I thought, right?

“Even against their will, they were a part of the machinations of a dark god. Their souls were condemned.” She held the container out, and I took it. It was warm and comforting and familiar. “I couldn’t stop your master, but I wasn’t completely powerless. As they died, I took in each and every one of their souls. They deserved better, and now I have a chance to give them just that. So do you.” 

For a full minute, I couldn’t breathe. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that, if you agree to aid me, then I will have the souls of those you have lost reborn into the world. Resurrection is outside of my domain, but something like this?” She put a hand on the glass. “I will give them life, and I will give them my blessing. Most importantly, they will have the chance to earn an afterlife.” 

I hated gods. That was never more true than this moment. She’d certainly come prepared. She had me by the balls and she knew it. “What would you have me do?” 

She gently took back the glass. I wanted to hold it for longer, but all my strength had left me. “First, if I’m right, then the sword is the key. I’ll be taking you off the board for a time, and the sword will go with you. If we’re lucky, then the absence of the sword will make this god lose interest.” 

Yeah, like that was going to happen. “And when we inevitably aren’t lucky?”

“Then we prepare. You will worry about the mortal plane, and I will handle the divine side of things.” She walked away, and when she turned back towards me the jar was gone. “Your current classes are suited for slaying a dark lord, but you will need different tools for what is to come.”

I felt a spark of something that felt dangerously close to hope. “You can alter my classes?”

“I can reset you to an earlier level.” She smirked. “Normally, something like that is reserved for a punishment. By the time you wake, I will hopefully have more information. You’ll have to find a way to commune with me on your own, though I’ll help where I can.”

“You can’t just talk with me like this?”

Her eyes traveled to where my real body lay slumped. When I followed her gaze, I realized I was starting to smoke. Literally. The plumes that came from my flesh had a greenish tinge to them. My soul was burning my body from the inside out. “The other reason I have to put you to sleep is to give your soul time to recover. Meetings like this are usually reserved for after death, but desperate times…”

I took a long, deep breath. “Find a cleric, prepare for war, research the blade. Anything else?”

Her palm returned to my cheek. Her aura was warm and welcoming, and her smile loosened the knot in my stomach. “You’ve barely seen the other side of twenty winters, Zaren. While you’re out there trying to save the world—again—do try and enjoy yourself. Does that mean I can count on you?”

Ignoring the sound of my body starting to sizzle, I nodded. I’d gone through hell to make sure the deaths of the others hadn’t been in vain, I could go through worse to give them a chance at something better. She put a hand on either side of my face and leaned in close. The last thing I remembered before the world went dark was the feeling of her lips brushing against mine. Then searing pain ripped me apart from the inside out.

# # #

 

Author's note:

What to expect/not expect:

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