Empyrean 30: The Hero’s Journey (Patreon)

Amelia, here! :) Please enjoy a new chapter of Empyrean's Flight. This one was a bit tough to write, but I hope you like it. As usual, any and all feedback welcome :)

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Taking a life is not as simple as stories and the journeys of heroes make it out to be. To imagine that every person that the hero kills have a family of their own, a unique life that they led, is easier to ignore for the sake of a story.

Whatever the chronicle tells you, the listener is required to trust that the reason for killing is just and true. Very few of us who know these stories have an opportunity to carry through the story of a hero.

And when you get the chance—for revenge, or to save the one you love—I’m sure many would grab at it. The hero’s journey, for most, can be respected by the simple idea that the end justifies the means.

When you are thrust into something similar, it’s difficult to tear yourself away from believing that you are the hero in your own story. A friend dies, so you seek revenge. You accept the ways you will get to that won’t be good, but you believe that it will be worth it.

And then you face him, the one that caused you so much pain, and you hold your dagger to his throat. You pull it through, slitting it and letting him bleed out.

But what the stories don’t tell you is that nothing will change. You will stare at his blood-soaked body and violently crash back into reality.

Your friend will still be dead.

I stared at the body, bleeding out profusely. The one I was so determined to kill. I felt no different. Here I stood, through a battle like no other I had faced, and still, I felt the now familiar heaviness that had taken my heart.

I didn’t come here for the sake of the poor quarter. I came here for revenge. And I got it. At what cost?

“Elana…”

Adalinda’s voice was distant. I didn’t have anything to say.

“El, look at me…”

It grew quieter, and as I looked around, I felt my breath escaping. I couldn’t catch it. A cold shiver curled my spine, and I felt a hard pounding in my chest. I felt like I was dying.

I clutched my breast and took quick breaths. The air in the room was escaping me, and if I tried hard enough, I could pull it back. I could stop the descent into death.

“El…”

The half-silent calls of the celestial felt like they came from a dream. I was alone here. I was going to perish in my own hubris. My own mistakes. I had led everyone I loved to the edge and slowly, one by one, I will push them over to their death.

It would be better if I just… close my eyes. Accept my fate.

“ELANA!”

I took a deep breath, my lungs on fire, and snapped my eyes open. Adalinda was sitting on me heavily, breathing into my face. She was staring into my soul, it felt like. Am I dreaming?

“You are not dreaming,” she said, her mouth unmoving.

“Then how are we speaking?”

“What do you see?”

I lifted my eyes heavily and stared at the ceiling.

“Cobwebs,” I said. “And a chandelier.”

“What can you smell?”

I closed my eyes again and drew the air in around me. “Something like iron,” I said. “Metal. It’s stronger than anything else.”

Looking at Adalinda, I noticed my breathing had become stable. I felt the air normally; my lungs accepted life again.

“What just happened?” I asked my companion.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t answer immediately. My legs, while running warm, were numb. There was a strange sense of doom looming in my mind, but from where, I couldn’t point. Nothing was the same.

“I think so,” I lied, not wanting to push the topic out of my head.

The celestial moved away from me. I rubbed my hands down my legs, trying to stave off the numbness, and tried to stand. With no effort, I was on my feet. But they didn’t feel like my own.

I looked down at the body one more time.

“Cantos is dead,” I said simply.

“He is,” Adalinda replied. “We should search his room.”

Saying nothing, I stepped over Cantos’ body and moved toward the desk. I picked up the first set of notes absentmindedly scattered across the surface and started reading. The first note looked like the Devil leader’s personal diary…

Alastair has no idea what’s coming. The idiot really thinks he’ll pull off his heist of the dungeon. Ha. No one comes into my territory and claims whatever they want. I don’t care if the players protect me.

If I can hand them in to Arinna, she will likely be on my side and help me take over the poor quarter…

Quest updated: The Devils in the Details. You have found more information on the player presence in the poor quarter. But what are they looking for in the dungeon?

Your new objective is to find out more information about the dungeon and what the players want inside.

The rest of the note was more hatred toward the players who had come to him for help and how he was planning to betray them. Not much use now that he’s dead, I thought, but at least I had a better idea as to why they were in the city at all.

Another note was a list of the players, and three names caught my attention.

Alastair: Level 60, human, fighter

Melinda: Level 30, human, mage

Sigurd: Level 25, half-orc, fighter

Alastair, who seemed to be the main player, was level sixty. Then there was the half-orc assassin and the mage I fought just before I found Cantos’ chambers. There were 12 names in total on the list, not all of them had levels—Cantos must have been trying to put together information for Arinna.

I scanned the rest of the notes for anything important but found nothing.

“I found some information,” I said to Adalinda, turning away from the desk. “It looks like the players were here without Arinna knowing about it. They wanted to get into the dungeon under the Devil’s lair, and they went to Cantos for help.”

The celestial said nothing, only walking closer and handing me a leather-bound diary of some sort. “I found something too,” she said, handing me the book.

I took it from her and opened the first pages. As I scanned it, my eyes widened, realizing what she had found. “Ada,” I said. “This counts all of the Devil’s movements. Information on the dungeon…”

I whipped through some more pages. “No…”

“What is it?” the celestial asked, clearly enthused by what we were uncovering.

“Someone was informing Cantos on the Raccoons’ plans,” I said, struggling to believe what I was reading. “There’s a mole working against Eoman.”

“That explains how they were able to attack them before you could carry out Eoman’s plans,” Adalinda deduced.

“We have to take this back to him,” I said. “He has to know.”

I turned around and, feeling a little more confident, walked toward the door. But before I could turn the handle, Adalinda hissed.

“I hear something,” she said.

I pulled back and stood behind the entryway, waiting silently and listening for anything. She was right—there were footsteps. They were quiet, but not enough that I couldn’t notice them. I held my dagger ready and hoped that they wouldn’t draw nearer.

But, to my horror, the steps grew louder. Coming down the stairs, I held my breath and waited for the next fight to start.

Then the door opened.

I leapt out from behind it and tried to stab at the intruder, only to find my wrist held in place by a strong hand.

“Elana,” a familiar voice said. “It’s me.”

Taking a moment to look at the face in front of me, I couldn’t help but smile a little in relief. “Soren? What are you doing here?”

“I came to get you,” he said plainly, holding me in a hug. “You were gone a long time. I was getting worried.”

I held my brother and let the tears flow. There was nothing I could really say, especially not now, but I felt a small moment of happiness knowing that even though I had left him behind unceremoniously—and a little rudely—he still cared enough to come after me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said, lying again, but a little less this time. “Cantos is dead.” I stepped aside and gestured to the body lying on the floor.

Soren’s eyes widened and he broke into a strange cackle I had never heard before. “Well, would you look at that,” he said nervously. He looked around the room, and I watched him intently. As his eyes met Adalinda’s, he took a step back. “What is that?”

“That’s Adalinda,” I said, a little offended on my companion’s behalf at his reaction. “She evolved.”

Soren let out a long breath and clutched his chest. “She gave me a fright,” he said calmly. He then moved toward the celestial. “Hello, little one. Or, not so little anymore, I suppose.”

Adalinda stood on her hind legs and held out her claws. Soren hesitantly took them and bowed his head a little. “She’s looking a lot more impressive,” he said.

I gave him a half-smile and nodded quickly. “We should leave,” I repeated. “I don’t know how many more guards there are.”

“Right,” my brother said. “I slipped in unnoticed. We should be fine on the way out.”

Without another word, Adalinda unmanifested and the two of us walked out the door. We ran into no more trouble, thankfully, and made our way back to the street easily.

✵ ✵ ✵

The journey back to the Raccoon safehouse came with no struggle. Soren and I, as before, hid among alleyways and avoided the small Devil patrols along the way. It was painfully obvious how unaware they were of their leader’s demise, and at this point, I was thankful for that.

By the time we reached our destination, the early morning birds were waking up. I felt my eyes drooping slightly, but I couldn’t sleep yet. Our discovery in Cantos’ house was too important to wait.

I barged in through the door when the tattooed guard opened it for us and half-ran down the stairs. Walking up to Eoman’s personal room, I had to hop over some sleeping Raccoons, but made it through the maze of soldiers easily enough to reach the door without waking anyone.

Not for long, though, as I banged loudly on it. “Eoman!” I called, hoping he would wake.

I stopped knocking after a few Raccoons grumbled their disapproval at me and heard shuffling inside the leader’s chambers. Soon after, the door opened to a visibly irritated Eoman. “What is it, girl?”

“Cantos is dead,” I said breathlessly. “And I have something you need to see.”

A large grin that appeared on his face at the news and he gestured for me to walk into his room. I hurriedly walked in before I handed him pages I ripped out of Cantos’ diary, the ones that showed his knowledge of Raccoon movements.

As Eoman read the words, his face dropped. Without speaking another word to me, he stormed out of the room and into where the sleeping Raccoons lay. I followed him out.

“Wake up!” he shouted. “Now!”

There was a mess of shuffling as everybody stood to attention. In silence, the Raccoons waited to hear what their leader had to say.

“It has come to my knowledge that we have a traitor in our midst,” he said. As he spoke, the leftover Raccoons mumbled amongst themselves. This was clearly not something that had happened before.

“Somebody has been telling the Devils about our plans. Come forward now, and I may spare your life,” Eoman continued. “You have one hour.”

The leader walked out of the room and back into his chamber, throwing the papers on the floor on his way in. He opened a drawer inside and pulled out some matches, picking the papers back up and burning them one by one.

“I’m sorry, Eoman,” I said. It was all I could say.

“Thank you for killing Cantos,” he said, ignoring my apology. I nodded and started walking out, but as I did, I bumped into a familiar face.

“Celeste,” I said, smiling. “I didn’t know you were here.”

The silver-haired woman touched my shoulder gently. “It’s good to see you,” she said before walking into Eoman’s room.

I frowned a little at the strange interaction. Standing by the still open door, I listened in on their conversation.

“Eoman,” Celeste said. “I know who the traitor is.”

There was a moment of silence.

“It’s me.”