As I swore my life to him, the slave crest flashed one final time. The lingering pain faded with the light, replaced instead by a strange… presence. Instinctively, I knew it to be the Hero. I could feel his warmth and strength, nudging me forward. The feeling reminded me of a compass, always pointing to him. Lost in contemplation, I jumped as he snatched my dress, which hung about my waist, and jerked it up.
"Ahh!" I stuttered, holding the garment tight about my chest. I quickly slipped my arms through the sleeves, which wasn't too hard considering how scrawny I was. How had I not realized I'd been half-naked the entire time?
I blushed a deep crimson and turned away. "S-Sorry, I-"
"It's alright," he said, "It's just part of the process." Although he said that, I could tell he was hiding a little red of his own.
An intrusive cough shattered the awkward atmosphere, coming from the Pope. They had been watching the whole time! I wanted to disappear into the ground, barely listening as he spoke.
"Take your slave to the chapel to be properly identified before evening. As she'll accompany you from here on out, take her to your lessons and activities. But," he said warningly, "don't forget her place."
"Yes, Father," he said.
The hero took the chain from Revera's hands. I fell behind him, and we left the chapel. Behind us, I saw Revera whispering with the Bishop. As we passed through the doors, they looked over their shoulder as we went. Probably talking about the slave crest or something.
As the doors closed behind us, the Hero's shoulders slumped, and he turned to me with a face full of concern. "Are you alright?"
"I think so," I replied, shivering. "Let's not do that again."
"Yeah. Oh, I've never had the chance to properly introduce myself! I was born Robert, but they gave me a new name too. Call me Soltair."
"Soltair," I whispered. The name tasted sweet on my tongue, begging to be said. "Do you know what my name means?"
His grin twisted into a pained expression. "Kind of, but let's not talk about it now. I just got back from town, and haven't had a chance to change yet. I'd like to get out of this stuffy armor, if possible."
"Okay. But promise to explain things to me later?"
He flashed me a grin. "As you wish. Now, my room is this way."
I followed his lead, traversing several hallways. After descending another flight of stairs, we arrived at another wing of the Divine Throne. Unlike the previous corridors, which were plain and simple, these were wide and lavish, with potted plants and colorful curtains. Portraits of proper-looking figures were hung every couple of dozen feet. Many of the paintings were gray and faded, and the dark eyes of the subjects seemed to follow me as we passed. I shivered as the condemnation of thousands of years carried through their lifeless gaze.
Sensing my discomfort, the hero slowed and gestured at the paintings. "The Popes of years long passed. The first task they gave me after I arrived a few months ago was memorizing all their names and accomplishments. You wouldn't believe how boring the history of this world is."
"They don't like me much," I said softly. "Why does everyone in this world hate me so much?"
"It's a long story, but--" Soltair suddenly broke off, eyebrows raised curiously. "This world?"
I covered my mouth, tail going rigid. "I-I misspoke. Please, don't hurt me!"
He stared at me, and I cringed, covering my head with my hands.
"Hurt you? Why would I do that?"
He sounded incredulous, but I didn't dare look up at him lest he interpret that as a challenge. Still, when no blows came, I peeked through my fingers. He didn't seem upset, nor was his tail bristling.
"It's just that… well, you see… I'm not from this world either," I whispered, keeping my head bowed low.
"What?"
He recoiled, mouth gaping. I flinched, but Soltair quickly regained his composure, making a soothing motion with his hands.
"Why didn't you say something?" he asked.
"I, um...I tried. Before." I admitted, tail swishing nervously. "But when I brought it up, she...she hurt me."
"That's what happened? That's why that slave woman was trying to kill you?" he asked.
I nodded, biting my lip. After a few long seconds, he reached forward, taking my hand. I shuddered at his warmth, but his touch was gentle.
"So...you're a hero," he said, tone carefully neutral.
"I...I am. But they locked me in a cage, without any food or water. I don't understand why." My voice broke, but I swallowed a sob, forcing myself to continue, to share the memories that haunted my nights. "I tried to learn where I was, who I was, but no one would listen. And then, at the warehouse…"
Word by word, the story tumbled out. Soltair listened earnestly until the end when he arrived and pulled me from the darkness of the warehouse.
When I was finished, he rubbed his head, sighing. "To think you were from another world this whole time. What god is your patron? The church never mentioned it when we talked about the missing hero."
"Fate."
He frowned. "Yeah, that's not good. You were the one the sun god cursed, right?" he groaned. "That's probably the worst thing possible. I bet he already knows you here. We have to move quickly."
He tightened his grip on my hand, pulling me out of the room. I scrambled to keep up with him, my legs shaking from the sudden exertion. His pace was even faster than Revera's, and I soon found myself flagging.
"What's going on?" I asked, tipping over my own feet."
He turned, and for a moment, I thought he was going to let me catch my breath. Then his hand slid around my waist, dragging me to him. My heart leaped in my throat as he effortlessly swept me off the ground, holding me in his arms.
"There's no time to explain. Just hold tight."
I squeaked and clung to his neck as he took off, rushing through the halls. Priests scattered before us, scowling at us, but none dared to stop us. To stop him, more likely.
Soltair was like a ray of sunshine, cutting through the night. He barely even acknowledged my weight, running with long, easy breaths. He was close to my age, but much taller and extremely well built. His armor was hard, but I melted into the warmth of his embrace, tail curling around his arm.
"This is worse than you think," he began, talking as he jogged, "Being a demonkin on top of the Fate Hero…?" I could feel his sigh reverberate through his chest. "The Sun God has given very specific instructions to restrict the use of fate magic. Right now, he's all but erased her from the recognized pantheon of the church. All of Enusia is under his control, making his word near absolute."
"But what does that have to do with me? I came here like you, to help this world," I said.
He shook his head. "I don't think they care much about that. Didn't you see how many gods there were? What does one world matter? But they've cultivated such an image of us heroes that it would be impossible to touch you normally, but now that you're a demonkin...I doubt even they expected to have such a convenient excuse to remove you."
"Remove me? Like, kill me?"
"Yeah. But if we can awaken you, there might still be hope. Once everyone knows you're a hero, they won't be able to act against you openly."
"Awaken?" My head spun with the word. After months of nothing but chains and darkness, I was still struggling to get used to the light and being able to stand straight, much less all the new words and politics being thrust upon me.
"I'll explain afterward. We're here."