Chapter 131: Book 6 Chapter 16

The chamber was massive, so massive she couldn’t even see the end of it. Though, she supposed it wasn’t so much a chamber as the same hall she had always been in.

Except before the walls, floor and ceiling all seemed to blend in together, making it seem as if they went on forever, yet also as if they were so small she could just reach out and touch them.

Now that wasn’t the case, because rather than just polished, empty stone, instead there were bodies.

So many bodies.

Elves and spiders littered the ground, curled up in the throws of death. Bile, blood and puss covered the floor, creating a nauseating scent. Joan had to take a few steps back before reaching into her pouch and pulling out a cloth, quickly wrapping it around her mouth. The scent still made her eyes water, but at least it was tolerable.

She almost wished the realm wasn’t so well lit, seeing so many bodies was incredibly disconcerting. What had happened here? Possibly the most disconcerting was the way that they were decaying. Rather than normal decay, instead all of the bodies seemed to be melting together into a vile, disgusting puddle. She tried not to think of how much of the puss she was walking through was actually that.

To her relief, Guardian Nova still shimmered with blue flame, not letting itself go out in the sight of what lay before her. Steeling herself, she began to walk. “Hello?” she called out.

Joan, despite herself, hoped that nothing answered. If she heard anything here, she might very well turn and flee. Even now her courage felt like it was being pushed to its limit. But she had to keep going. Down this hall. Because this tapestry was unlike the ones she had seen before.

This one seemed to go on forever. It started so massive, yet only grew. It got larger and larger, the nine threads of the seven Chosen, Arta and Penthe seemingly fading out from time to time, only to reappear again. Against the walls, despite the bodies, empty bookcases now stood. Decoration? She didn’t know.

On the up side, the further down the hall she went, the fewer bodies there were. The tapestry kept growing and growing. Bigger and bigger. So many threads. There were so many knots, though. So many times where she could see the bundles of threads cluster. Just like her own had, as the Hero. Each time the silver and gray thread came. But the tapestry continued to grow.

Until after what she felt like was miles of walking, perhaps it was, it just stopped growing. She stared up at it, but she didn’t see what was wrong. It was such a grand, almost beautiful thing. So many lives. All intertwined, all touching each other. All--

She stopped when she realized the silver and gray threads didn’t quite look the same as they once had. They were still glimmering, but they seemed dimmer than they had. The silver one in particular looked--

No. She shoved that thought aside. As much as she longed to reach out and touch the threads, she didn’t dare. Instead she turned her eyes towards the empty bookcases. Had the elves built them here? Where were all those ancient tomes? Had they taken them back to their world? Or had they just never been filled?

Worse, what disease had come through here? None of the bodies looked wounded. They all just seemed as if they had collapsed. Dead. Faces contorted in pain. But no wounds. Not that she wanted to look too closely to see.

Joan kept walking, looking away from the bodies and focusing on the tapestry once more. She was right. The threads were dimming. Bit by bit. With each iteration of the silver thread, it was growing dimmer and dimmer.

She felt anxiety beginning to well up inside her. That was her thread, wasn’t it? Was this why it didn’t feel like her? Because she had ‘faded’ away? Had she lost her path? Had she stopped being a Hero? Had she--

Then she froze in place. Her eyes wide when she game to the last moment of that dimmed, faded thread. Before all of those glimmering threads met together one final time. Along with a thousand others.

And from those threads, from that horrible knot, only a few escaped. The seven of Chosen. A bright, glimmering gray thread. A shimmering silver thread.

A foul, tainted purple thread.

There hadn’t been a purple thread before now. But there had been one she had seen in her threads. Tangled with it. She reached out, desperate to touch the knot. To know what happened there. She could see moments, just before, where she could touch the single threads. Just for a second.

But if she only got one chance, was this really the place to do it? Would she be able to escape it, if she did? Would she waste away, living out a memory that wasn’t hers? Did it matter if she solved these puzzles, if she died in the attempt? No. It didn’t.

Joan reluctantly pulled her hand back. She had to keep going. There were so many questions she would answer, somehow. Someway. But she couldn’t die in the attempt.

She began to walk again.

 

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Despite the scent of death that lingered in these halls and the exhaustion that permeated her body, Joan couldn’t stop herself from walking. She had to keep going. The tapestry was growing smaller and smaller, now. With each reappearance of the silvery line of Arta it would grow a little more, for a little bit, only to shrink again soon after.

The flame of her sword had gone out, but she was quickly beginning to suspect there was no danger here aside from her own anxiety. Her amulet didn’t even glow anymore.

How many lives had she passed, now? How much smaller was the tapestry? Where once it was so massive, so huge. Mow? It was a fraction of what it had once been.

Then it stopped.

Not like it had before. It didn’t get cut. It didn’t fade. It just stopped. Every thread stopping at once. Why would it--

Then she turned back and she saw it. The knot. The same knot that she had been shown by the Nameless One.

She was at the end of the tapestry. Where it was now. Where it would go.

Once more she steeled herself and turned away from the tapestry to look around the room. Over the bodies. Over the death.

Nothing. More empty book cases. So what was it? How much more was there? Was this it? Or was she supposed to continue on? The bodies continued on, even if the tapestry did not. So would she find what she was searching for if she kept going?

So Joan did the only thing she could. She kept going.

Until finally she was rewarded with the sight of bookcases, now filled, in the distance. No, not just filled bookcases. Books were piled up, nearly thirty or forty books high. Massive stacks of them and yet the number of piles seemed countless.

There were only a few bodies here. No spiders. Just elves. Two on the floor and one last sitting down, at a desk. The only desk she’d seen since her arrival. The elve’s body was hunched over, quill in hand, writing on a piece of paper. Nervously she walked besides the body and nudged it with her sword.

It fell to the ground, splattering and sending puss across her boots, making her shudder. “Ew.” She then turned towards the pieces of paper before, gingerly, picking them up.

There were a few pages here. The one on top had the same message written over and over again. The final words, she suspected, of the writer.

Joan gave a soft sigh, she wasn’t the best at reading older elven, but she could manage a little bit. Whatever the elf had written must have been important.

“Don’t…” Joan said softly, frowning at the second word. “Own? Don’t… steal? Take. Don’t take any…” She rolled her eyes.

Really?

“Don’t take anything from this realm? You’re asking me not to steal? You’re dying. Why would I--” She then stopped and glanced at the books. “Wait. Don’t take anything out from this realm.” She glanced at the paper again. The message was written, over and over, desperately trying to get that message across.

Would something happen to them if they left this realm? She looked to the other papers, sliding that one off and onto the desk. It was the elf’s dying wish, wasn’t it? There had to be a reason, would the rest of the letters tell her?

Joan gave a light yawn before shaking her head. She had to translate this. Also, she had to burn her clothes after this because she didn’t know but she didn’t want to even imagine how badly she smelled right now. Could she just leave and--

She paused when her eyes fell on something else on the desk.

A golden bracer, the top of it like a somewhat cute, bumpy spider. The arm band made of its eight legs that wrapped around each other. She cocked and eye before poking it with her sword.

Right. Time to--

Joan’s cheeks burned when she looked at the second page. It had to be the most crude drawing of a person, then a person carrying books, then a third image of them going out a door with a large X crossed over it. She then rolled her eyes. “I get it, DON’T take the books out of the realm. Seriously, really had to drive that point home, didn’t you? Next time leave the pictures on top, okay?” she said before putting that paper on the desk. She flipped through the rest quickly and, sure enough, there were crude drawings on every other one. At least that was somewhat universal. Ish. The second batch of drawings showed a person.

Putting on the spider bracer.

“Oh come on,” Joan muttered before going back to the writing on the page before it. It wasn’t repeated, but even with her difficult grasp of elven, she could figure it out. Put on the bracer. “This better be worth it.”

Joan reached out and picked up the bracer. “I swear if this bites me, I’m going to be pissed.” She sheathed her sword once more before sliding the bracer onto her arm.

It bit her. It actually BIT her. Joan let out a shriek when the head seemed to come alive and bit her arm, its legs tightening around her wrist. “I swear to-- what?”

She could read it. The letters, clear as day. No. Not the letters. The intent. The meaning. It seemed to hover over the pages, in a form she couldn’t truly grasp and explain, yet fully understood. She looked down at the bracer once more, it now glowed with a blue light.

Joan began to flip through the pages. Finally, she’d learn some answers.

 

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Joan screamed with rage, the blue flames of her sword destroying it all. The decay. The death. All that hurt. All that pain. All that suffering.

Why had it ever come to this? Why? Why did they have to suffer? Why did any of them have to feel this? Why did it come to this?

Korgron.

Chase.

Hardwin.

Neia, or whoever she truly was.

Thalgren.

Andreas.

Searle, most of all.

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Penthe.

Arta.

Her.

All of those countless others who had suffered. Who had died. Why? Why? “WHY?!” Joan screamed. “WHY? NONE OF US DESERVE THIS!”

It wasn’t fair. All of these dead. All of these lives torn to pieces. Why did it have to happen?

The smell of death and decay barely lingered in the air now. Now all that remained was the scent of ash.

Joan crumbled to her knees, stabbing her sword into the ground and laid her head against the hilt. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she said softly. “I’m not the Hero anymore. Even the Hero couldn’t. I’m not… I never was a hero. I was just his… his…”

Joan began to slump forward, sinking down to the ground. What was the point? Why did any of it matter? If their world perished, if they went with it, who cared? The Nameless One said as much. There were others. Worlds without this. Worlds that didn’t need a Hero. Their world should have never needed a Hero.

Maybe what had been right all along had been the route she’d taken. Separate the world from the gods. Leave it crippled and on the verge of death. Let that thing finally win. How much suffering, how much death had been brought by this path? She couldn’t do this. She’d never be able to do this. She wasn’t strong enough. She wasn’t.

“It doesn’t matter,” Joan said softly. “I know it’s there. Once I leave here, how much will I even remember? As long as that spell remains, I can’t do this. Nobody can. Penthe won’t know what she’s doing. Arta will be trapped. I’ll be helpless. I’ll just be helpless. I won’t know everything. I won’t be able to stop everything. I won’t.”

She gripped her sword and then looked up, out over the ash of those burned.

How many were there? How many had died? How many had screamed in agony? How many had begged for mercy? How many had suffered? How many would yet?

“I can’t do this,” Joan said again. “I can’t fix this! I can’t! It’s not… it’s not fair. It’s not… why me? Why not somebody who’s stronger? Why not somebody faster? Smarter? There are so many. I just have this stupid talent because I’ve already done it so many times! Haven’t I done it enough? Why does it have to be me?” she yelled. “ANSWER ME! GODS! FATES! ANSWER ME! TELL ME! WHY ME?”

She received nothing but silence. Not even an echo.

Joan looked down at her sword. Was it the Star of the Hero? She still wasn’t sure. She didn’t know. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. But it was hers.

“There’s nothing special about me once you take away what I took,” Joan said softly. “So why me? Why does it all fall on me? I can’t… I can’t bear this. I can’t… I can’t…”

She turned back towards the tapestry once more. The massive cluster that had been so many lives. So many deaths. How many lives had been left shattered by her failures? Big and small.

She couldn’t save them all.

“I can’t ignore them, can I?” Joan asked. “Is that why it has to be me? Because I’m too STUPID to not try? Because I’m too STUPID to just let it go? To just go home and lay down and wait for it to end? DAMN THE INFERNO GOD! DAMN THE DEVOURER OF MINDS! DAMN PENTHE! DAMN ARTA! DAMN GOD OF DESTRUCTION! DAMN EVERY SINGLE DAMN ONE OF THEM!” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “And damn me more than I’ve already been damned. Fine. FINE. You win. You want me to try? You want me to save them? You want me to fix this? I WILL! I’LL FIX ALL OF IT! EVERY LAST BIT OF IT! I DON’T CARE IF IT’S IMPOSSIBLE!” she screamed, though her voice cracked at the end and she broke down into another small flurry of sobs.

“Stupid hero,” Joan said softly. “Both of them. Stupid. Stupid heroes. Stupid Joan. Stupid Arta. Stupid Penthe. Why can’t any of this be simple?” she asked her sword, it just stood there. Warm and comforting, unmoving when she leaned on it.

“I can’t do this,” Joan said. “But I will do this. I will break this spell. I will fix this world. I will fix ALL of it. I will drag every single one of them free of this taint, kicking and screaming if I have to. I won’t let this end this way. And you know what else? I’m not going to die doing it. Because the fates were right. There won’t be a third hero. Because once I’m done? The world won’t NEED any more heroes.”

“YOU HEAR THAT?” Joan yelled. “DAMN YOUR STUPID PLAN! ERASE EVERY MEMORY YOU WANT! CORRUPT THE WORLD! SEND DISEASE AND PLAGUES AND FIERY GODS AND CLOUDS OF DEATH AND WHATEVER ELSE YOU WANT! YOU’RE ALREADY DYING! ALL YOU’VE DONE IS PISS ME OFF! THIS IS MY WORLD! MY HOME! AND I WILL BE THE LAST HERO YOU EVER SEE! I’LL FINISH EVERYTHING THEY STARTED AND YOU WON’T TAKE US WITH YOU!”

Joan then gave a sigh and rested her forehead against the pommel of her sword. “I don’t even know why I’m screaming. It’s not like it can hear me here. It’s just you, me and a spider lich. Ugh, I hope I’m not going to have to fight that thing. I’m way too tired for this. A long, long nap. I just need to close my eyes. Just for a moment.”

The anger fading, exhaustion flooded into her body. “I don’t even know where to start. How do I kill a dying god that’s already dying? If it can make other gods, what chance do I have? Is that what this is? Some kind of stupid box game? If I kill that god is there going to turn out there’s a third, even bitchier god behind it? And then a fourth? This isn’t fair. Why can’t the gods just snap their fingers and make this better? Yes, I know why they can’t but it doesn’t mean it’s fair they can’t.”

“Is your time at an end? If it is not, you’d best not sleep.”

Joan paused before, very slowly opening her eyes once more. She eyed her sword. “Guardian Nova? Is that you? Have you been holding out on me? Can you actually talk? Because if you could all this time and you’ve been holding out on me, I’m going to be very annoyed.”

“Look up.”

Joan blinked and then, slowly, she looked up. Then sighed. “Ah. Spider lich. I didn’t think you’d come through here.”

“I didn’t think somebody would incinerate the remains of those lost,” the spider said back to her. Weird how she could kind of understand the chittering sounds it was making.

“Yeah. This arm band thing is pretty cool. The first bite sucked, but other than that it’s nice. Still stings a bit, but hey, I’ve had worse. Are you going to try to kill me?” Joan asked.

“Why would I?” the spider lich asked.

“I am very annoying,” Joan said. “But you’re right, I can’t sleep now. If I go back now, I’ll forget most of this, won’t I? Oh, that’s going to hurt. Like, a lot. I am not looking forward to that. I don’t suppose there’s a way to stop that?”

“There is one way,” the spider lich said.

“I mean without dying and becoming a lich,” Joan said.

“Then no.”

“Then this is going to suck a lot. A whole lot,” Joan said before getting to her feet and walking to the tapestry. She then looked down at her sword. “I think you’re the only one who can do this.”

“What are you doing?” the spider lich asked.

“I think you know,” Joan said before she lifted her sword up. “It’s going to hurt like hell. But I’ve got to do something, don’t I? I can’t save the world like this. I just need for reality to forget about me for a little bit, you know? Just for a second while I’m here.”

“What are you doing?” the spider lich asked. “You cannot think to severe the threads.”

“I mean, if you’ve got any other ideas to keep me here I’d love to hear them,” Joan said and waited. She was greeted with silence. “That’s what I thought. I’m sorry, Realm of the Gods, but I can’t go back yet. So just forget about me for a second, okay?”

Gripping Guardian Nova in both hands, she brought it down with all her might.

Her blade severed the thread of fate binding her to her destiny. Binding her to the Chosen. The Guide. The Champion.

Binding her to her world.

Joan blinked a few moments before staring at the thread. Now cut at the tip. “That uhhhh… didn’t do as mu-- oh gods!”

Joan crumbled to the ground, reality seeming to fade away as the pain enveloped her.

 

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Joan’s eyes opened and she stared into the eyes of a very annoyed looking Three Sisters. “Crap. Did I die?”

She swore she saw the fate’s eyes twitching with annoyance. “You… are very reckless.”

“I get that a lot,” Joan said.

“You do realize you still exist because--”

“You need me?” Joan said.

“Who cuts their own Thread of Fate?” the Three Sisters asked. She couldn’t deny, it was interesting hearing them all sound so frustrated at once.

“It was that or die,” Joan said sheepishly.

“That is like chopping off your arm because you’re afraid you’ll break a finger,” one of the Three Sisters said, the other two managing to glare at her. Considering they were all in the same place at the same time, she couldn’t help being a little creeped out.

“You can fix it though, can’t you? Once I’m able to leave?” Joan asked.

They just stared at her.

“Oh. Errrr… I didn’t… accidentally make things worse, did I?” Joan asked sheepishly.

They just glared at her. “I’ll deal with this.”

“Huh?” Joan asked.

“Not talking to you,” the Three Sisters said. “You two just focus on fixing the thread.”

Joan blinked a few times. “Wait, you can fix it, can’t you?”

There was a long moment of silence before, finally, the Three Sisters began to laugh. Or rather, one of them did. There was only one of them now. At least it seemed that way. This whole thing was making her head hurt in a whole new way. “I can’t believe it. You ACTUALLY cut your thread! Who does that? WHY would someone do that?”

Joan gulped. She hoped the fact they, or she, was laughing now was a good sign.