Chapter 55: Book 3 Chapter 12: Bridge

“So, you’re THE Hero? As in the one who slayed the great monsters of old, the gods, the original demons, the living embodiment of plagues themselves?” Isla asked.

“Yes,” Joan said.

Isla nodded before, less than gently, reaching out and pinching her cheek. “But you’re so cute. And tiny. You look more like a mouse than a hero.”

“Ow! Knock it off,” Joan said before trying to shove the woman’s hand off her, she didn’t move though. At least it didn’t really hurt, but it still felt really annoying.

“And you’re so weak! I thought the Hero was the kind of person who could stop the hammer of the gods themselves?” Isla asked before, finally, letting her cheek go. Joan let out a sigh of relief. It was, unfortunately, short lived as a moment later she was picked up and all but thrown into the air. “You’re light too!”

Joan shrieked and flailed her hands when she sailed through the air, only to land back in Isla’s hands a moment later. She felt like her heart was going to explode and she now, amazingly, was beginning to almost be grateful to the Demon Lord for finishing Isla off in the past. “Please do not throw me in the air. I’m not weak, I just-- grff!” Her words were cut off when Isla hugged her.

“Awwww, you’re just an adorable little hero!” Isla said in the most condescending way possible.

Joan could see over the woman’s shoulder and, to her incredible annoyance, Searle, Bauteut and Andreas were watching her ordeal and laughing. When she was finally released she stumbled back a few feet before nearly falling on her butt, only for the woman to grab her arm and steady her.

“Sorry, you okay little mouse?” Isla asked.

“Yes, I mean, no!” Joan said before glaring at her. “Listen, let’s make this clear. I WAS the Hero. WAS! There is no more hero. There’s no more fighting gods, no more fighting plagues, no more any of that. At least not for me. I am now Joan. And yes, I am weak. I am small. I cannot save the world anymore. All I can do is try and get the chosen together to stop all of, well, all of everything, from ending. Because if I fail, this world burns.”

“I’m sure it’s not that--”

“I’ve had to watch the world burn more times than I can count,” Joan said, her voice going cold as ice. “I’ve had to watch as everyone I ever knew and cared about died. I’ve had to watch them beg for mercy. I’ve had to listen to their screams. I’ve felt the flames lick at my skin and melt away my very being. I’ve gone through it over and over and over. I’ve failed more times than I can even count. So many times that I thought I would go mad. I’ve had to give up everything I worked for. Everything I’d achieved. Everything the Hero was in order to do this. To try and save the world from that fate. So please, try and take this seriously. It might all seem like fun and games to you, but it’s not. It never was. So much more is at stake than you could ever imagine.”

Fortunately for her, those words seemed to get through to Isla as the smile drifted off her face and she managed to adopt a serious expression. Behind her, the others had as well. “Right. Sorry. So, you’re saying in those other times I died?”

“Maybe,” Joan said. “I think? It was like in some times you never existed. In others, you were there. But you’re, well… you had to be there. You couldn’t have not existed.”

“Why?” Isla asked.

“Because you’re older than Korgron and she was older than the Hero,” Joan said before giving a soft sigh.

“So, err, not to sound odd or anything,” Isla said. “But you keep saying the ‘Hero’. Didn’t you have a name? Or was it actually Hero?”

“I don’t know,” Joan said. “That’s part of the stuff that doesn’t make sense. I don’t know why, I don’t know what it means. I can only assume it’s part of what’s going on in my head right now. But that’s all there is to it.”

“But you’re already really far ahead, right?” Isla asked. “You’ve got two of the chosen and my sister is on the way. Two more as well, correct?”

“Hardwin and Thalgren,” Joan said. “That’s five. Neia is easy, Chase will be a problem. But it doesn’t matter if I’m ahead. So is the Demon Lord. If he gets to the Inferno God and awakens him, the world burns. No more do overs. No more second tries. Everything ends, we all die.”

“But you know how to stop that?” Isla asked.

“Yes. But all seven of the chosen are needed for it,” Joan said.

“Is it really okay for you to tell us all this?” Isla asked before glancing back to Bauteut. “We’re not chosen, right?”

“I don’t know,” Joan said with a shrug. “I hope? I mean, I damned the world a thousand times already, I’m really just trying to get it right this time. You’re Korgron’s sister and Andreas’… uhhhh…”

“Fiance,” Isla said.

“Right, fiance. You-- wait, come again?” Joan asked.

“Fiance,” Isla said again. “I feel I mentioned this earlier.”

Joan reached up and clutched her forehead. She didn’t even have a headache and yet she swore she could feel one. Or, more likely, she did have a headache and wanted to thank the Nameless One for making her not have to feel it. “You probably did but there is really a lot to keep up with. So I want to know how? Why? When?”

Isla shrugged. “It just kind of happened.”

“Just kind of happened,” Joan said before taking a slow, deep breath. Oh, there were SO MANY questions she wanted to ask now. “Andreas? You wanna add to this any?”

“No, I think she’s got it handled,” he said with a shrug.

“Korgron is okay with this?” Joan asked. “Isn’t the heir to the throne being with a human, chosen or not, a pretty big scandal? I know when she and the Hero started to--”

“Wait, she and the Hero?” Isla asked. “You mean YOU and my sister? Okay, now I know this has to all be a joke. There’s no way my little sister ended up with a hero.”

Joan groaned and felt her cheeks going redder. “Only in some of my lives. Can we please focus? I don’t… just give me the rough overview. Okay? What happened between you two? How does Korgron fit into it and, for the sake of my sanity, why is Korgron working for… why is she pretending to be working for the Demon Lord?”

“Well, the quick overview would be…” Isla said before crossing her arms and seeming to be trying to focus on how to say it. “I was curious about humans, came to human lands, met him, thought he was interesting. Demon Lord showed up, he ended up destroying a lot of human territory, I grabbed Andreas and hauled him off back home. Korgron was pissed, but didn’t object. Probably the only one, to be honest. To not object, I mean. Then the Demon Lord took me captive when Korgron refused to serve him, my own fault really. I was cocky. I--”

“Wait, she refused him? Did he know she was the chosen?” Joan asked.

“No,” Isla said. “But she is one of the most powerful and talented mages we’ve ever seen. So he might have suspected. Either way, she refused, he took me captive. Korgron and Andreas tried to find a way to save me, playing along until now. Then Searle saved me. Ohhhh, that was actually really impressive.”

“Impressive?” Joan asked.

“Oh, right, you missed that,” Bauteut said. “You should have seen Searle. Come on, tell her about it.”

“It wasn’t that impressive,” Searle said sheepishly, his cheeks burning red. “I was mostly just a distraction, you did all the work.”

“All the work?” Bauteut asked before rolling her eyes. “You’re too humble sometimes. Don’t listen to him. The plan was simple, he attacked the main gateway, I sneak in and get her out during the confusion. There had to be, what, twenty? Thirty demons there?”

“I don’t think there were that many,” Searle said, shaking his head. “Maybe a dozen. At best.”

“Oh, no, I saw the ones on the ground,” Isla said. “There were at least thirty. Likely twice that number.”

“Right, so he goes in, his shield lit like a second sun,” Bauteut said. “Ended up tearing right through the middle of their camp, cleaved this big wooden temple thing in half.”

“I saw the remains of that, very impressive. Took them weeks to make it in preparation,” Isla said.

“Right, but then I get to the prisoners and Isla isn’t the only one there. The cells are filled with others, upcoming sacrifices,” Bauteut said. “There’s no way we can get them all out of there quickly.”

Joan could only smile at the way she saw Searle’s cheeks getting redder.

“So, during all of this, Andreas has the three of us all connected through this mind message thing,” Bauteut said. “I told Searle, and you know what he said? What was it?”

“It’s nothing, please don’t,” Searle said before lifting a hand over his face to try and hide.

“’I don’t care how many of them come, I won’t let a single soul meet this fate’,” Isla said with a light snicker. “Very heroic. Very impressive. I see why he’s the chosen of the shield.”

“It was the heat of the moment,” Searle said before he started walking a little faster. “Please stop.”

“Right, so there we are, trying to get everyone out of there. Some of them are from Isla’s home, but us? Well, we’re likely going to have half the Demon Lord’s army after us when we’re done. So they go one way, we go the other. Searle covering us the whole way. You should have seen him fighting, it was a wonder to behold. I never would have imagined he was the same kind of clumsy apprentice back in the academy,” Bauteut said.

“Academy?” Isla asked.

“Ohhh, right. You didn’t know, did you?” Bauteut asked. “Well, the three of us actually went to the same academy. In fact, Joan was the youngest graduate they’ve ever had. The greatest prodigy they’d ever trained, or so they say.”

Joan gave a groan and turned, walking faster to follow after Searle.

“Oh, you have to have stories,” Isla said.

“I have more than you can count. About both of them,” Bauteut said, the grin on her lips only growing. “Joan was, well, not the most sociable of students. To put it lightly.”

Joan wondered if she could just go ahead and die now, please. That would be great.

 

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“Careful,” Isla said. “We call this the Bridge of Hope for a reason.”

Joan nodded, though she honestly wished they’d had a much nicer name for it. Especially since it had long since collapsed by the time she’d gone through this path as the Hero. The caves had finally opened up to the outside world, alongside dozens of other caverns.

It was here that a massive schism had seemingly torn through the mountains, practically cutting them in half and creating a narrow canyon between the two. While, once, there had been dozens of rocky bridges connecting the tunnels on either side, now there was just the one. A single bridge of stone only a body-length or so in width and with so many holes she was surprised it hadn’t collapsed along so many of its brethren.

When they’d come this way as the Hero, Thalgren had always created a new bridge of stone with ease. But now she had to cross it, knowing that sometime in the next decade or so it would collapse in one way or another. She just hoped it wasn’t today.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Bauteut asked.

“Not in the slightest,” Isla said. “But it’s the fastest way there and there’s likely more than a few threats behind us. It’ll take us a few more days if we try to navigate down to the valley below and we don’t exactly have that luxury if we want to avoid whoever is likely following us.”

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Joan sighed and shook her head. “Let’s do it. I’ll go fir-- guh!” She was stopped by an arm around her waist and yanking her back against Bauteut’s chest. She glared up at the girl. “What? It’s walking!”

“How about we let the people who can fall from these heights and survive, or jump over small mountains go first?” Bauteut asked.

“I’ll go,” Searle said. “Though, ummm, I can’t jump over mountains.”

“You’re a chosen, you probably can eventually,” Bauteut said. She then paused and looked down at Joan. “Can he?”

“I don’t know, maybe? I once saw Neia jump onto a tower, but she was using a powerful wind spell. I suppose if he used a powerful enough light spell he could use it to launch himself. But yeah, he can likely survive the fall easily enough,” Joan said, struggling to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

“I’d rather not test that,” Searle said.

Joan shook her head. “Oh, no, don’t! I mean, you might survive. There’s a small chance you’d die. And even if you didn’t, you’d likely break half the bones in your body and, chosen or not, it could take days or weeks to--” Her mouth was covered by Bauteut’s hand.

“You got this, Searle!” Bauteut said. Judging by the look on Searle’s face, he wasn’t so certain of that. None the less, he started to walk across the bridge, his footsteps heavy. To Joan’s surprise, despite the occasional hole in the stone bridge, it was incredibly sturdy and didn’t even rattle when he walked across.

“Looks pretty stable,” Andreas said before raising his voice. “Searle, it seem good?”

Searle gave them a light wave forward before continuing his walk, seeming to relax now. Bauteut let Joan go and they started as well. She couldn’t help feeling that the bridge really was far too narrow, but it didn’t rattle under her feet. It would likely last a few more years before it finally collapsed at least.

They were nearly halfway across when Searle suddenly stopped, only a little bit away from the other side.

For a moment, Joan didn’t understand why, but then he raised his shield up, taking a defensive stance while the shield grew to its normal size.

“What’s wrong? Does anyone see anything?” Bauteut asked.

“No,” Joan said. “There’s nothing--” The words died in her throat when she heard incredibly familiar heavy footsteps coming closer.

 

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The Hero knelt by the body of his father, the bloody sword still clasped in his hands. The footsteps were coming closer, faster. They were almost upon him when he finally looked up. Everything began to get fuzzy and stranger, as if the memory itself was being watched through an incredibly thick fog.

A person in strange, shimmering armor that seemed to almost change colors when the light glanced off it was charging straight at him. He felt relief wash over him, though he didn’t recognize them as one of his soldiers. But something told him it would all be okay now.

That relief faded when they reached up to draw their blade, a greatsword made of metal so black it may as well have been the void itself. The Hero barely had time to bring his father’s blade up and parry the strike. To his surprise, the other figure backed away before the swords could connect. “Who are you?” he asked.

“You don’t have the Star,” the figure said, their voice strange and almost echoing from the strange armor.

“The what?” the Hero asked.

They said something, but it was as if the memory itself was struggling, desperately, to piece itself back together. There was a fight, though their blades never touched and neither could get a firm hit on the other. But each blow, each strike seemed disjointed and strange, as if time itself was moving back and forth, trying to unwind itself.

Finally, he attempted to parry a blow only for their sword to cut through his own with ease and then kick him, sending him toppling backwards. A moment later the figure stood over him, the black sword raised up. “Beyond recollection,” they said. Red runes formed across the surface of the blade a moment before it struck down, piercing him.

Killing him.

Killing the Hero.

 

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Joan was kneeling on the bridge, her eyes wide, body coated in sweat. “Joan? Joan, speak with me. Joan!” Bauteut said.

“What?” Joan asked, before realizing her friend was kneeling in front of her.

The resounding clang of metal against metal filled the air, making her jump and turn her focus back ahead. The figure in shimmering armor was here, their sword having struck Searle’s shield. He didn’t move, but the bridge shook a little from the force of the blow and, to her surprise, Searle took a step back.

The figure stepped back as well, holding their blade at the ready, but not advancing. Instead, the helmet seemed to turn, looking at each of them one by one before, finally, stopping on Isla.

“Who is that?” Bauteut asked. “Isn’t that the person who was with the Demon Lord and Korgron?”

“General Gil,” Isla said, taking a step back.

“What, like a fish?” Bauteut said. “Is the Demon Lord here?”

“I hope not,” Isla said before glancing towards Andreas. “We need to run.”

“I don’t think he’ll let us,” Andreas said.

The armored figure didn’t move for a long time, instead focusing once more on Searle. What were they waiting for? Joan felt another shudder run through her, they couldn’t fight the Demon Lord here. They’d be slaughtered. If he was here then--

Wait, Gil? That wasn’t their name. Their name was…

Their name was…

It wasn’t Gil. She knew it. It was… something. She knew it. It was on the tip of her mind. Through all of that fog that seemed to shroud her memories. She knew their name. It wasn’t Gil. It couldn’t be Gil.

She didn’t get any more time to figure it out, however, before the figure charged forward once more. They brought their sword down on Searle, but he easily lifted his shield up and deflected it away from him, dampening the blow of the strike and making the figure stumble past him. He twisted with them and tried to batter them away and off the bridge.

The figure suddenly leaped into the air, clearing nearly a quarter of the bridge before they landed a few moments later and leaving Searle confused and dumbfounded for a moment, before he turned and ran after her.

Wait, her? Yes! Gil was a her. That was it. Joan knew her. She knew she did. She’d met her, somewhere. Every movement, everything about her was so incredibly familiar. If she could just focus and remember.

Andreas charged straight at her, thrusting his spear at her. Gripping the sword tightly in both hands, she struck it against the side of the spear, deflecting it and the force of the strike causing the bridge to shake once more. Joan’s eyes widened when she saw the blade. The sword had hit the Chosen’s shield twice and now the spear, yet the blade looked as sharp as ever, not a single mark or dent on it.

“Get out of here!” Andreas yelled before twisting around and shoving his spear out before yanking it back, stopping her from getting past him and sending her stumbling back.

“But—” Isla said before he cut her off.

“He’s after you, go!” Andreas yelled.

Joan felt more confusion encircling her. Why would she be after Isla? Yet, something told her that Gil was. No. That wasn’t her name. Was it? Was it the armor? Was that what she recognized?

“Joan? Come on,” Bauteut yelled, snapping her out of her thoughts. Her hand was grabbed and she was yanked back towards the way they had come.

No. She wasn’t after the chosen. But she had to be after one of them, otherwise she wouldn’t be here. Joan shook her head, wishing she could just clear the fog in her mind.

Joan heard the words and, while she fortunately knew what spell they were for, she wished they had been anything but. The bridge shook underneath their feet before it began to shift its very form. She shrieked, toppling to the ground and barely catching herself. To her horror, she saw the bridge reshape itself under them, the ground melting out from under Isla. For a moment she was standing over empty air before she fell.

Only to snag the edge of the shifting bridge a moment after it stopped. Joan felt a moment of relief before quickly glancing back.

New horror filled her.

The armored figure was right behind them, charging straight at Isla. Behind her, Searle and Andreas were wrapped in stone. The spell would likely only hold a moment…

But a moment was all she needed.

The figure ran past Joan and she couldn’t move, no matter how hard she tried. This was the person who had killed her, wasn’t it? She’d died by her hand once before as the Hero, how could she hope to stand up to her as Joan? She heard the sounds of stone shattering and saw Andreas breaking free of his imprisonment before running towards them. He just needed a few seconds.

Joan’s focus turned back towards Isla and it was almost as if the world slowed down. Bauteut tried to interpose herself between the figure and the demon, but was shoved away with an almost dismissive thrust of the armored hand. She lifted her sword up once more. “Beyond recollection,” Penthe said before Dynasty Devourer was lifted up, the runes across its surface coming alive once more. They thrust the blade down at the hanging Isla who could do nothing more than stare at the descending blade.

“PENTHE NO!” Joan screamed before lunging with all her might at the figure, trying to buy just a few more seconds.

To her amazement, the blade stopped in mid swing and the figure’s head jerked up. “Wha--” She was unable to finish the sentence before Joan slammed into her full force, sending them both toppling out into the void.

“JOAN!” Isla yelled, letting go of the bridge with one hand and trying to reach out to grab her. Joan tried to reach back to catch the hand, but she wasn’t fast enough. Within a split second it was beyond her reach and, then, both she and Penthe plummeted towards the ground.

Joan knew she had to move fast, come up with a plan to stop herself from hitting the ground. She couldn’t survive a fall from this height. But, oddly, she found her mind occupied by one question in particular.

Who was Penthe and why did she know her?