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I could feel the Warlock’s chains wrap harshly against my wrists as I had finished. The scene was bloody and gory and I could practically feel myself slipping. It felt as if I was an outsider looking in but feeling all the sensations around me. I could hear shouting mixed with gentle speech, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. It had been one of the things that made me useless; my ears couldn’t pick up any sound too well unless they were 3 feet away from me. I couldn’t even focus enough to try and make out what was being said but I could feel the chains shift and scratch as I struggled against them. Why was I struggling?

“Now, now, my friend, be at ease.” I could finally hear our bard say as he went over and looked at me, his eyes filled with sorrow and sympathy. “You’ve lost who you are. But we won’t stop until trying to help until you do, okay? Venessa knows your still in there, so do I.”

I couldn’t even make out what I had said in the state I was in, but it seemed to be a question. Why? Why keep me around? Why not get rid of me? What do you and our Paladin, Venessa, see? And, as if reading what I wanted to say, our bard simply smiled softly.

“We see a friend.”

I froze upon hearing the words. A friend…? I could feel something warm rolling down my cheeks and my eyes suddenly caught a burning sensation, blurring before unblurring. I couldn’t understand what was happening until Venessa walked over and cupped my cheek with a solemn smile.

“And those who have fully lost humanity do not cry such human tears,” She spoke, her voice soft and gentle as if trying to soothe me until I noticed her glance behind me and sighed softly. “But, I’m sorry. We have to put you to sleep now.”

“But we will wake you in our next stop!” The bard exclaimed cheerfully as he began to strum a clam tune on his lyre, and moments later, my eyelids drew heavy before I felt myself slump forward as drowsiness overcame me and put me to slumber.

The jade green glow emanating from her eyes danced in the tears welling beneath. All I ever wanted to do was make her proud, to make up for all the trouble I’ve been. It took me a minute to realize why Sonia was crying. I ain’t never been a smart man.

Maybe that’s why I took the blow of the curse. I wanted to be useful, just for once. Even if it was my last scene in this play, I wasn’t going to go out having it be said that I never broke even. Of course, she always told me she didn’t mind. They all did, all those wizards, warriors, and people of prophecy that lined the pages of ancient texts we’d dug up. They were the chosen, the fated eight, and I was the ninth. Well, I was technically the first to join Sonia Oakhearth back in Kirk’s Drift. The other seven came along the winding path that has been this wild journey of ours… Of theirs, really.

They were the ones saving people. I just watched and did all the small necessary jobs required to keep ‘em alive. “We need you to get this from the stables” or “Hey, Hoak, go get us rooms at the inn whilst we go and talk to the queen.” They didn’t mean harm by it, I just ain’t meant for that spotlight. That’s why I wasn’t in the prophecies. Well, that’s what I thought, until then.

Turns out, I was in the prophecy. I was the lich, the one that needed to die in order to save the world. Tough luck, huh?

So there I was, all undead-looking and wheezing through dusty lungs. None of the eight moved. They just looked at me all sad-like. I was confused because, hey, we’d won. We beat the fucking High Lord of Lowen in a brawl. All that needed to happen was finishing the curse that was now trapped in me, the curse that I was. I wanted to tell ‘em to stop hesitating and finish it before something or someone showed up, but my vocal cords were decayed. I couldn’t speak. A cough shot dead lung tissue onto the rubble at my side. I fell over onto my hands and knees as black sludge, what I reckon was my blood, poured from my mouth like the fountains in the queens court. Well, at least what Aya said they were like.

“No… Gods, this can’t be…”

I would have told Sonia that I should have stopped smoking like she asked. Bad jokes at worse times was my most important contribution to the team, but my last words were going to be whatever stupid shit I said before diving in front of that ritual dagger. She rushed over and knelt next to me. She was always the kind one, never let herself believe that things would end badly. Most of the time, thanks to the eight, they never did. And here I was, ruining the mood.

“There has to be some way to fix this! We can’t… I can’t… I…”

I placed my withered hand on her plated shoulder. Destiny did many things, but it never lied. I was done. I was going to die here or else we all were. Was I scared? Yes. I just didn’t want to think about it. I just needed her to get it over with before I got stuck in my head. I shook my head, bones creaking and muscles snapping. I didn’t want to die, but I certainly did not want to live like this. Sobs choked her words.

“Hoak, please… I can’t… I won’t. I’m not letting you go. We still need you.”

I don’t know how I replied to Sonia. I guess it was magic. I ain’t a damn lich expert. I always left shit like that to Solomon. But, when I did speak, I wasn’t… right. It wasn’t coming from me.

“No… you ain’t gonna need me… not anymore.”

She hugged me tight, which really must have sucked because I probably stank like, y’know, a corpse. She just kept saying “no” and “I can’t” as she wept into my shoulder. I could feel her tears dripping down into my exposed rib cage. Being a lich ain’t no fun. I pushed her back. She had sludge on her face, but channels of tears were cutting through it like the Rivers of Rowan. I miss that place, but I was a goner. My story was done. This was my lot in life, and I can’t argue with fate. I spoke again, ethereal and strange.

“You… you have to… please… I ain’t… I ain’t worth the world.”

“I owe you everything. I can’t let you go like this. Anything but this.”

What I said next was cruel. I didn’t mean it to be, but bad jokes at worse times were my best contributions.

“No… I still… owe you twelve gold…”

I broke her wagon in Kirk’s Drift. It’s a long story, but that’s how I ended up with my first of many debts to her. She remembered, clearly. She couldn’t even look at me after that. Sonia unsheathed Solace, her divine sword. She looked ready to finally get fate under way until she looked back. The sword tip fell to the ground between the two of us.

She was right. She couldn’t do it, but fate never said she would be the one to kill the Armageddon Lich.

I lifted the point of the sword and lunged into it. Sonia wasn’t quick enough, I caught her off guard. She and a few of the others screamed. They all rushed forward as I felt holy fire cleansing me away. That’s when it hit me. I did it. I killed the greatest evil in the world.

Sonia couldn’t stop screaming as my arms and legs turned to ash. Flashes of magic, prayers, and all kinds of things came out from the eight in a vain attempt to save my burning body.

I closed my eyes and slimed. I did it.

I had paid my debt, all twelve shiny gold pieces of it.

Expectations. For a while I thought they kept me around since I could cook with damn near anything I could find, scout for danger since I knew the woods so well, and even mend some of the wounds that magic alone wouldn't heal. I could even still hold my own against some of the more dangerous monsters even if I could barely help while they took care of the more powerful demons bearing down on us. But now I know what was expected of me.

When we came banging on the demon lord's throne room door I finally knew what was expected of me. A sacrifice had to be made to access the demon lord's throne. As the weakest member of the party I was expected to make that sacrifice. They cried and talked but i felt empty as their words rolled over my back. Our leader Jacob tried to rationalize as he tended to do when backed into a corner. He was a good tactician and led best from the front but now he tried to balance his sense of duty and his loyalty to me. Our Wizard Bella just couldn't stop crying and hugging me. And our Cleric Michael stood there silent. He was always rather stoic but even I saw the single tear rolling down his face. They all knew but never told me.

I just thought of my little sister Elana back home. The demons killed our parents in a raid and I was all she had left. I met the party while on a job hunting a particularly dangerous beast near our town. I ran into them when they helped me fight off the beast when they were passing through. They realized I had decent skills as a tracker, hunter, and forager even if I had not been blessed by the gods like them. They promised my sister's safety in one of the church nunneries while I went with them. That was 2 years ago and my sister was doing well, but if we don't put a stop to this now the Fighting will never stop and my sister will keep having to live in fear. My humanity for the sake of her life and happiness. So be it. Sorry Elana your older brother might not be coming home.

I stepped forward before the rest of the party had a chance to say anymore hollow words and placed my hands on the doorway. I felt my life force getting ripped from me. My body grew weaker and weaker but the short time I held my hand there felt so long. And the more I held myself there and saw my end on the horizon I started to pull back just as hard. I didn't want to die. I had to see my sister again. I had to see the demon lord's head on a pike and I had to see that these bastards that I called friends finish the fucking job. And as those thoughts raced through my head I started to feel a change in my form as the seal on the door began to crack.

A pair of curved horns grew from my head as blood started leaking down my face. My body grew taller and my skin started to feel thicker. My back started to itch before red feathered wings tore out of my back between my shoulder blades and spine. All the while my hand was still firmly planted on that door. My vision started to go black as I looked at the seal on the door break as I pushed open the throne room doors unconsciously as my body weight lurched forward. All I saw as I collapsed in the doorway with my vision fading was the demon lord on his throne and the damp red wing that now lay over my body.

I woke to see Michael and Bella looking down on me battered and bruised but alive. I turn my head to see Jacob sitting on the steps of the throne his sword impaled into the demon lord's chest. With the little strength I had left I uttered out the words "you guys did it."

This got Bella crying again and she threw herself on top of me hugging me saying "no, we did it." and "I'm so happy you're alive." and all that nonsense. But Michael and Jacob looked grim. Then I remembered seeing those wings over my back. So I felt around and found them attached to me. I shot upright nearly headbutting Bella and quickly realized my mistake when a sudden wave of nausea slammed into me like a wall. And went right back down as my vision started swimming. Michael put a hand on my chest and told me to rest as what has happened here is unprecedented. The hall got quiet. Until finally I heard Jacob speak up. "We can work with this."

I was nauseous, I thought I was going to die not long ago, I found out my "friends" kept me around as a sacrifice, and now Jacob has a plan. I was happy to be alive a moment ago but the weight of all of these things hit me at once. And I yelled. I never yell. "What plan Jacob? What plan do you have, huh? Tell me. At least this time I would like to know how you plan to use me." The room grew quiet again. That anger quickly turned to sadness. "I can't return home like this. I'm the same type of demon as the generals we fought so many times before. I can't let my sister see me like this." I began to cry. "Please just kill me. That was part of the original plan anyway wasn't it."

Jacob looked down in shame. "I... I can't do that. I couldn't look at your sister knowing that I'd done that. But if this plan..." I stopped him there. " You were okay sending me to my death but not doing the job yourself." He tried to back track "No... I mean... I didn't think there was another option then, but I just... I'm sorry." Jacob looked pathetic. He was frantically trying to rationalize his decisions but couldn't come up with an answer he felt would satisfy himself let alone me. I never saw him like this before. He was always the first to pick us all up when we were down and knew how to save face. This wasn't like him. Finally I said "Tell me this plan of yours."

Jacob looked up to me now crying as well. "I... I'm sorry... I... Alright. With the demon lord dead there will be many upstarts and rouge demons wandering around. We have taken out their leadership and their most powerful demons. And I guess it's lucky for us... Is lucky the right word... Anyway the demon form you inhabit now is the second only to the demon lords themselves. So what if you become the new demon lord. Take power and get them to leave the human realm alone and vice versa."

Funnily enough it wasn't me who spoke up first but Bella who looked at Jacob and just said "Are you daft. We should take him back to the mages guild and fix this." Michael chimed in next. " The mages guild knows some transformation magic but for a corruption such as this the church may hold the answers more than the guild." Jacob pipes back up. "And how do you propose we would even get there our faces may be well known among the populace but the wings and horns would sooner get the guard called on us. Besides he's already a skilled fighter now with much more power than before I believe he can do it." And the argument went on for a little while until I spoke up. "I'll do it." The party looked at me. "Just promise me one thing. Tell Elana that I love her and that her older brother still has a job to do."

They all looked at me and agreed. They collected the head of the former demon lord. Mended the wounds that would delay their travel and finally said their goodbyes. But before they left I told them. "If you had just told me I would have agreed. I'd do anything to make sure my sister was safe." Bella hugged him Michael and Jacob looked on in shame and they left. And there I was in the throne room alone. I sat down on the throne where the demon lord's body once sat and thought to myself the only thing that kept me going this far. Do it for her.

"Why do you keep me around?" I remember him asking me. He had tears in his eyes, streaming from his black eyes like fountains. I put down the greatsword I was sharpening and looked down to him with assurance.

'Because you're our Ranger, a damn good one at that!'

He looked up at my face with a embarrassed smile, then wrenched it away.

"Me? Good? Please, Andy, I lied about my rank to the others, but I told you! I'm just a shitty E- with a shotgun, with armour I bought secondhand off some drunkard in a tavern! I just, I don't feel like I'm doing anyone a service. You guys don't need me at all..."

He clasped his gloved hand on the dangling necklace around his throat as a few more tears flowed from his eyes. The necklace was a gift our Rogue, Maxine, had gotten for him for the Winter Festival last year, when he was still new to the team.

'But we need you, Michael,' I assured him, 'for what lies ahead, you must be there. And no matter what your level is, I vow to get you through, and so does Khan and Rivian, and especially Maxine.' I couldn't help but chuckle about Maxine. The Rogue was a lot more like Michael than she let on, and a lot closer than he realised as I shot a grin at the flustered flitting of an invisible tail in the room.

The next day was it. What the last eighteen months had been building up to. Our quest to defeat the Draconic Tyrant of Kherremia was at last, about to adjourn. I remember seeing that boy, scared stiff in the arena as the gargantuan form emerged to face us. It was ironic, actually, his firearms were best equipped of all of us to pierce through the beastly king's scales.

We were doing so well when I watched it happen. A blast of sickly purple mana, then a ghastly scream as Michael was suddenly hit. He staggered, that matte black gun in his hand held as tight as he could hold it as he looked up toward the Tyrant with a rage burning hotter than the fireballs thrown our way. With a bloodcurdling cry he charged at the dragon, weapon blazing with shot after shot of enchanted bullets taking more and more out of the weakened Dragon King, when at last the Tyrant had dropped dead. I saw Michael do a final fist pump like after every victory of battles past before collapsing in a cloaked Maxine's arms.

Even after his death, the Tyrant could never have been content to go down so easily. It was a fact I had kept to myself. The old legend was that any who should strike the Dragon Tyrant down would be cursed to find themselves his next of kin. In truth it had been my plan at first, the day I recruited that sheepish, silvery haired Ranger, to let him take the final blow and bear the curse in a weak body to make containing him easier. But the boy grew on me, on all of us. Even if he was at first a subpar fighter, the morale benefits were better than a Bard could boast, and raising our spirits became his prerogative, even as his combat ability grew far beyond the 'E-' rank when this adventure began... I am ashamed that my original plan has come to bite me so.

I watched it play out in the inn room we rented until I could watch it no longer. Maxine stayed in his room for all of that fateful night. She was stronger than I was, to see him through it. I didn't have to tell the others for them to realise what had happened. We, for all our power, could do little as our friend and compatriot lost himself. I felt less like a Paladin and more like a petty Murderer, the robbing of Michael's humanity only showing that my claim of virtue and justice was just a sham. Where was the justice for him? I would ask myself in my worst of moments that night. You brought him here, you let him do it! This was your plan, come to its horrible fruition!

We all stepped into the room that morning to see Maxine, uncloaked and crying over the bed. Michael's groans and gasps were something no longer human, like a stirring beast had emerged where our friend had once sat. No! my mind screamed. There he sits! In the accursed image of the Tyrant himself, yes, but with the mind and soul of our friend! You will not abandon him, such is your duty. But what shall you even do? What can you do?

'Sir, what do you say we do?' Khan asked, mirroring his thoughts. The Orcen fighter, usually never without his aggressive persona, was somber that morn. We all were. Then Maxine exclaimed with a glimmer of hope in her voice.

'He's awake! Oh by the Gods, Michael!'

The three of us were not so jubilant at his awaking. He was nigh unrecognisable then. He was covered in the same crimson scales of the Terrible Dragon King, his face morphed to match it. Nascent wings had burst through his clothing and horns as black as night were growing from his head. Still, his silver hair still sat atop his head, holding onto him for dear life. He opened those eyes again, and for a moment I believed all would be well. That everything would just go back to how it was. Then he hissed, not in anger but fear, recoiling from the bed and hurtling into the darkest corner of the room with flap of his wings.

Maxine's tail fell. I did not blame her. I placed the armoured gauntlet of my right hand upon her shoulder, looking to her staring at the floor, as the thing we insisted was still Michael crouched in the corner, eying all of us with slitted gaze. In a moment of weakness I considered it. It is shameful that it even reached so far forward in my mind. I considered putting him out of his misery then and there when I clasped my greatsword tight.

I watched as she approached, and I prepared to stop her, to pull her away like she was going to touch a fire. But still I was paralysed. She reached out to the dragon in the corner, as it desperately wriggled to avoid her. With tears in her eyes, she clasped the necklace still around his neck, fiddling with the iron plate at its centre like dogtags. I watched her slowly let it fall from her claws as she sobbed but inches from the dragon. At last I had found the strength. She had said her goodbyes I suppose. I tightened the grip on my sword as I began to raise it.

Then I stopped. Maxine looked up to find herself firmly in Michael's arms. A tear rolled down the transmogrified boys face, as the new geography of his face tried its best to smile. The only sound in the room was Maxine's tail excitedly thwipping against his leg.

Yessss

Oh how I so love a delightful tragedy

[removed]

She was nothing, in the great scheme of things.

Rowan's childhood friend: that was it, was what sealed her spot in the Chosen One's party and it'd made sense when they'd started, when it was just her and him and the long road ahead. But now?

Everyone in the kingdom knows the prophecy, now; has heard of the one fated to be the downfall of the Demon King, and of Rowan's steadily-growing list of victories over every monster and opponent they faced.

Now, it's not just her who's in his party– there's the cleric who joined them three towns after Rowan killed the wyrm plaguing her village, the barbarian who regularly fist-fought bears for fun, and the paladin who singlehandedly defeated the Demon King's general by the mountain pass, and the point is, she has no place here.

She knows it, so do the others. She's not the best hunter, or healer, or cook: she's dead weight slowing almost the entire party down, just another mouth to feed and a liability in just about every fight they get into. She's a mere village girl, surrounded by legends in the making. Regularly sets up a bedroll next to the cleric capable of reattaching limbs without batting an eye, and the mage who summons fireballs with a flick of the wrist and a quicksilver smile, and if she thinks about it too much, she can't help but feel lightheaded because, really, she is in way over her head.

But she can't leave.

The first and only time she'd so much as brought it up, Rowan had stood stock-still for a second, and the look on his face meant she immediately laughed it off as a joke. The other party members, too, had all paled, and she might not be as close to the others but there was no mistaking the fear in their eyes. Fear, from the people who'd slain a black dragon not the week before and that's when she realizes the severity of the situation.

It'd be funny, if the fate of the kingdom didn't depend on them.

Depend on her, being at the Chosen One's side.

Why her? All she'd done was be at the right place at the right time, and hadn't thought twice about befriending the neighbors' son when he was around her age. He'd been all solemn eyes and shy smiles and she hadn't really thought much of the childish promises they'd made at the time, the ones of what they wanted to be when they grew up, of exploring together–

But here they were: two people caught up in a prophecy about the fate of the kingdom that saw them hundreds of miles from home, with far too many near-death experiences for comfort. The boy she'd once taught to climb trees was now the wielder of a legendary sword, and she... had a battered lute she'd gotten for two coppers and a spare hair ribbon, because it'd been her first birthday away from home.

After battles with monsters, and assassination attempts, and far more tavern brawls than anyone bothered to count; after the cities' names started blurring together, and dozens of letters home, and filling multiple journals with all the sights and names of their adventures– the day of the Demon King's fall finally arrived.

The day that would determine the future of the kingdom, and, more importantly, would let them finally go home.

Predictably, she was in way over her head. Shouldn't have set foot anywhere near the Demon King's castle; but Rowan needed her, the same way he'd always had.

So when the moment comes, it really, really shouldn't have been a surprise when the inevitable happened. When everyone else was desperately fending off the hordes of demons, and Rowan lost his footing for a second as the Demon King lunged, and–

She was nothing, in the great scheme of things.

But she tried her best anyway, even though she knew she was doomed even as she managed to crack her lute on his skull.

​

That didn't keep Rowan from losing it, though.

Didn't keep the Chosen One from finishing what she'd started, dispatching the dreaded Demon King with a roar and sweeping up her up in his arms, desperate for a way to stop the bleeding.

Didn't keep the battle from crashing to a halt, as he screamed her name, and clutched her to his chest long after the light had left her eyes.

​

She was nothing, in the great scheme of things– but she was his world.

So Rowan found himself picking up the Demon King's treatise on necromancy, after the cleric's failure in reviving his beloved. Because what was the point of all this, of saving the kingdom and defeating the monster who'd terrorized them all, if he couldn't go home again?

(He would never, ever let her go.)

I screamed until my voice gave as the metal spikes were hammered through my hands and ankles. I screamed until blood drooled out of my mouth when I felt to sigils sear themselves into my flesh. I screamed until my lungs collapsed as The Dark crawled into my body, driven by both Alione's radiant sword and Eileen's magic.

What I horrid fool I was. Every time I swore to leave, they reeled me back in, offering words of false sincerity and honeyed bait. "We still need you," they told me, "You're a vital part of this team!" I was so naïve. Every time I took the bait, taking their kindness to heart. I believed, wholeheartedly, that if I could not be the greatest mage, the strongest brawler or most awe-striking leader, I could at least be a candid friend. Why else would they keep me around?

Alas, a farmer does not set the cow lose just because it produces no milk. All it means is the farmer shall be eating beef.

We trekked down the chasm into the Well of Sorrows, intent on destroying the malicious Dark and freeing the world of the aberrant and monstrous. I couldn't even scratch the blackened things that lived down there, even as Alione and Barbas shattered carapace and metal with each blow, Eileen razed hordes with but a wave of her staff and Raven all but danced between talon and blade alike, blades shimmering as she sliced them apart with clinical precision. And me? Cheering from the sidelines like a good pet.

The bottom of the Well was no kinder a venture. The Dark itself was as vast as it was amorphous, and as violent as it was mindless. The battle itself could be compared to trying to beat a tidal wave; a task made seemingly possible by sheer power of the Hero and his allies, yet nevertheless a futile endeavor.

"Eileen! We're out of options! Grab Damien!" It was the Hero Alione that cried those words as Barbas was hurled nearly fifty feet straight up and slammed into the stone below with earthshaking force.

Next, I was forced onto my back by magical force and, before even a single protest could pass my lips, four enchanted nails were driven through my limbs. As Alione, Barbas and Raven did their part to distract The Dark, Eileen went to work on some for of binding incantation, conjuring runes of burning heat onto my skin in spite of my screams and begging for mercy. As the needle-flesh of The Dark was forced into me, I could feel my flesh die and calcify instantly. I could feel my soul shrivel as the umbral horror was bound to it. Before unconsciousness claimed me, I felt my humanity die in the face of such a vast Darkness.

--Alione--

Bile rose in the back of my throat as I looked down at what was left of Damien. The skin, still scarred with the lattice of binding sigils and enchanted runes, was now a corpse-like pallor, and his hair had all fallen out. His eyes were just... gone, black pits set into his head. Those eyes, so full of joy and life and-.

I sucked in a deep breath, closing my eyes to steady myself. I turned to move before I felt a hand clasp my breastplate. I looked down the stoic face of Raven. Expressionless as she was, I could feel her anger through the faint trembling of her fist on my chest.

"You said we wouldn't need to do it." Not an accusation. It didn't need to be.

"I said I hoped we wouldn't need to, but we both knew the odds of killing the Primordial Dark were slim. This was the only option for peace." I stressed, gently clasping her fist with my own. Raven's eyes darted back to the body of Damien, which still breathed, however shallow and slow. She wouldn't be okay, not for a long time after this, if my theories on her feelings were true.

"Aw, quit bellyaching." Barbas growled, stretching his back with an audible crack. "He was only here for this. We all knew that, whelp should be proud he was actually useful for once." The brute huffed as he shouldered his warhammer. I turned to him with a sharp glare, causing the giant of a man to snarl and turn, storming off.

As Raven let go and went to Damien's side, Eileen approached me. "What now? We can't just let him go; if The Dark somehow escapes, it will all be for nothing." She said gently, resting a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"We had a cell prepared in secret. Damien should be secure, and well cared for.""And when he dies?" I could feel the palpable worry in her voice, and I noticed both Barbas and Raven stop and look at me. Regardless of our feelings toward Damien, none of us were fond of The Dark.

"He can't. Not by intent or by time." I said slowly. "The runes were designed to bind the two irrevocably; The Dark will feed into and sustain his body, and thus no measure known to man or god would be able to kill him. He is exactly as immortal as The Dark was, but with none of the power." It was a plan years in the making. Everything had been chosen accordingly; the runes, the day they would strike at the Well, the exact party that would accompany me, especially Damien as the sacrifice. I had thought of him nothing more than just a sacrifice, until I saw the unprepared boy brought to the chapel, so full of childish happiness and purity.Perhaps he needed to be like that, so that there was more humanity to burn for the ritual.

"Come on." I spoke low to Eileen. "Let's head home."

-One Year Later-

There were celebrations and mourning both across the realm. The official story spoke of the noble stand of the Hero and his companions, striking into the heart of evil itself. At the climax of the battle, the unassuming Damien would make a heroic leap of faith, critically wounding The Dark and allowing it to be banished from the world for good, at the cost of his life.The unofficial one was known only by a sparse few.

The cell was lavish and comfortable, made to accompany its occupant until the end of time itself. Or, it was once upon a time. Soft, silken cushions shredded to ribbons, tables and chairs smashed and scattered across the floor, crystal decanters and glasses reduced to powder.The two caretakers had fared no better, dangling partially flayed from the ceiling by nooses made of their own braided skin.

"Damien, please calm down!" I cried, one hand on the hilt of the Sword of Radiance.

"NO!" Damien's voice rattled the stonework beneath my feet, forcing me to take a step back.Damien paced back and forth, a twisted monster of his former self. His body had grown massive and knotted, long talons sprouted from his fingers, and a crown made of horns jutted from his brow. A tail swung back and forth behind him with each step.

"You did this to me, Alione, so now do you're part and FIX IT!" I ducked under a flying chair."I'm not going to kill you Damien, for fuck's sake!"

"Why not!?" He snapped, rounding on me with those black pits for eyes. His skin was taught, forcing him to bear his sharpened teeth with every word. "You had no compunctions making me like this, why not do me this kindness and kill me already!?"

"I can't, Damien!" I begged, hand still on the Sword yet I still didn't draw it. "I can't kill you any more than we could kill The Dark, I'm sorry!"

Damien howled like an ungodly horror, leaping at me with fangs and claws bared. Right before impact, a band of silver light burst into being around his neck and wrists, forcing him to stop. The bindings stopped him as I began to back out of the room, a quiet sadness filling my heart as the furious roars assaulted my ears.

Part 1/3

-Three Months Later-

I bowled right through the grand doors to the King's Hall. "BARBAS!" I roared, blade drawn already and flanked by Eileen, Raven and a contingent of Elite Knights.

At the far end of the hall, Barbas lounged across the royal throne, chugging from an immense mug. Ale sloshed past his mouth and ran down his bare chest, mingling with the blood splatters across his body. As the foot of the throne, his immense hammer was embedded in the pulverized remains of King Iraine.

"What madness has taken you, Barbas?!" I snapped. "To murder the king, proclaim yourself tyrant, have you forgot what we stand for?"

Barbas lowered his cup, belching loudly. "You stood for, not me." He waved me off. "I was only in it for the money and fights. But, since I am the strongest, why shouldn't I be in charge, eh?" He dropped the tankard and sat up. "I put in all the hard work, I did the fighting, why should this little chickenshit be in charge and not me?" Barbas smiled, crooked, yellow teeth contrasting with his bloodshot eyes.

"You've finally lost it, haven't you." Eileen shook her head as she readied her staff. "Please surrender, Barbas, we won't hesitate to put you down."

"HA!" Barbas stood, wrenching his sledgehammer from the pulped corpses of the king with a wet squelch. "You're free to try, lass. But don't ever forget; I am the strongest, no-one else!"

Barbas leapt at us, hammer gleaming as red as his eyes, spittle and froth flying from his lips. Seven knights died in the ensuing battle before Raven could slit his arm and force him to drop his hammer. Eileen paralyzed him, and I took off my once-friends head off with a single stroke.

It would take three hours before I was informed that the Darkcell was empty.

-One Month Later-

I looked down at the new grave. Another victim.

Maurice had once been my mentor, teaching me the way of the sword in my earlier days. I treasured him like a father. They found his corpse half-eaten by Dire-wolves in the forest three days after his disappearance. They said, judging by the bloodstains and the cuts on his wrists and heels, he had been forced to crawl like a dog through the forest for hours before he died.

My gaze turned to the other graves; a blacksmith here, burned to death after a collapsed awning pushed and trapped him in the hot coals of his outdoor forge. A tavern-keep, beaten to death in a bar brawl gone too far. A questing knight, trampled to death by his own horse. A priest, stabbed in the lung during a break-in at his own chapel.

All of them, connected to me and my party.

"Does it hurt enough yet." I turned calmly to the new voice.

Damien didn't look like Damien anymore. His fangs overgrew his mouth, giving him a permanent grin. His horns had grown into an immense crested crown, and a pair of wings made of pure smoke hung from his back. His squatted on Maurice's grave, staring at me intently.

"Damien..."

"Does it hurt enough for you to kill me yet?" He snapped again.

"Damien," Tears pricked my eyes. "I can't. No one can, I-." Damien lurched upright without warning.

"It's not going to stop, Alione." He said slowly. "I won't hurt you, but your friends, family, every companion and cohort. Until my pain is gone, yours will never end."

"They're your friends too!" I roared, tears rolling down my face now.

Damien began to fade, smoky wings draping across his body as his form broke apart.
"Not anymore, Alione."

-Two weeks Later-

One final slam, and the barricaded door shattered, sending me staggering inside.

"Raven!" I screamed, voice hoarse from the hours shouting before. I couldn't conceal my panic anymore. "Raven, please talk to me! It doesn't have to-!"
My voice died as I saw her.

Her breathing was shallow, but her eyes were dead. In one limp hand, an empty phial and needle. A dozen similar syringes were strewn about, a few still-smoldering smoking pipes and countless booze bottles.

She was a mess, a living corpse with her deathly pale skin and sunken eyes. I shook her and cried, desperately trying to elicit some kind of reaction, but were only met with unfocused eyes and no response.

I barely noticed the small charm clutched in her fist, a gift from years past given to her by Damien, nor the shadow on the wall behind her, twirling a syringe between its fingers.

-One Month Later-

I woke with a start to the sound of cutlery clattering from the dining room.

"Eileen?" I called to my new wife, worry beginning to flare in my breast. Sitting up, I stepped into the dining room and froze at the sight of it. Damien, just as malformed and horrific as always, sat at my dinner table, leisurely eating a steak like some civilized person. His massive black wings took up half the room easily, cutting off my vision of the rest of the room.

He noticed me, jabbing his fork at the other end of the table. "Sit, we need to talk."

I sat without argument, watching him intently. I was already dreading his visit. "Where's Eileen." I bit out, knuckled going white as I clenched my fists.

"Oh please," Damien waved me off with his knife. "I have no care nor need for her. She's useless to me. You, however..."

"Damien, I..." I felt bile rise back up in my throat. The same old argument, the same old response. "I can't. I couldn't kill The Dark before, I can't kill you now."

"Alione," His voice, that jagged, malicious voice quieted to a familiar, supporting tone. Just like before. "I believe in you."

He leaned forward, jabbing me in the chest with his fork and the small cut of meat on its end. beneath it, I felt the Mark of Light, the tattoo that marked me as the Hero, burned ever so slightly. "You're the Hero, Light embodied on the earth. If there's anyone who can, it has to be you."

Just like before. Before the ritual, before the Well, before the decision. Kind words, earnest support, given to raise spirits in the face of evil. I felt some fundamental terror fall into my gut.

"Damien, what did you do, where is Eileen?"

"Oh, old friend, I told you, I have no need for her." His wings shifted, folding back and letting me see beyond him. "A farmer does not set a cow loose just because they produce no milk."

Through the open doorway tp the kitchen, I saw the limp arm of Eileen, splattered red, dangling from the kitchen counter.

"All it means is that the farmer shall be eating beef." Damien sneered, biting into another piece of his steak.

Part 2/3

-Seventy Years Later-

I lived my life alone from there on. My home was isolated, out in the wilderness and far from anyone Damien could hurt. At first I kept in contact via falcon letters, but after all I received was tragic news I stopped sending them. I buried Eileen's remains in the backyard, but they grave was dug up in the night and her body dragged off into the forest. I didn't bother trying to get it back; Damien was getting creative in his torments, and I didn't want to see what he would do with my beloved's corpse.
Nightmares occurred every night, illusion and shadows tormenting me with the faces of people I had failed.

Damien would appear now and again. The question was always the same. So was the answer.

Now I lay there on my deathbed, just as alone as always. Seventy years of torment and restlessness had taken their toll, even on my divinely enhanced body.

I let out a slow breath. Damien was already there.

"Please," He growled. "Kill me already. One last act of kindness, please Alione."

I didn't dignify him with a response.

"Alione." His voice was now warning. "Don't do this."

I looked him dead in the eye, those hollow pits. I closed my eyes, ignoring his howling roar of fury, and breathed my last.

-Damien-

I watched my last chance at freedom die.

I watched as his very soul drifted from his carcass, pulled upward to the heavens to join his friends.

The feeling welling within me transcended simple anger. It was beyond emotion and words.

Alione thought he could die before doing what he owed me? Not a chance.

My form broke apart, and a single beak of shadowy wings sent me beyond the sky and into the beyond. Around me, the eddies and whorls of the River of Souls spun around me. I gazed without eyes, searching for that spark of primal light.
There.

Like a shadow across the wall, I swept over Alione's soul, snatching it from the River and realigned with the mortal world.

The Primordial Light burned, but I ignored it. He thought I would let him leave, let him trap me like this until the end of time? No.

I sailed across the sky, looking for my target. Finally, one caught my eye. A small farming community, humble and pedestrian, just like Alione's own home. It would do now, and every incarnation hence. A farmer's wife was giving birth, a new soul being brought into the world.

With a hawk's swiftness, I passed through the delivery room, releasing Alione's spirit into the body of the babe. He wouldn't remember a thing, but the Light would return, the Hero reincarnated. My final words to him were simple.

A Curse.

"Never will you know release, until I do. Again and Again, you may slay me, again and again you may die, but eternal shall we struggle. Only in my true death, the Death of my Dark, will this cycle of misery and ruin end. This is my curse, Hero, my Spite. So long as I am allowed to live, I shall bring about pain and horror upon this world, and you will always return to stop me. Until I have my peace, you will never know yours."

I fled just as swiftly, without anyone the wiser.

I returned to that accursed place. The Well of Sorrows beckoned, having run dry so long ago.

It needed me, and I would need it moving forward.

Down there, monsters anew would be born, and raise havoc and death to the world.

The Hero would rise to this challenge, naturally. They would grow strong, empowered by the Light. Maybe strong enough to truly kill me, probably not. But they would always have to try, and I pray one will succeed.

My sacrifice brought an age of peace, however brief. Now, my life shall bring about an age of war.

I breathed in deep the brackish fumes of the Well, even as new monstrous life stirred in the silt underfoot. So is my decree, not as Damien, but as the Daemon Lord.