The Cursed Herald

by Rina S Mamoon

She looked back at Aspen and saw the strange slits on her face open, revealing extra eyes.

  “I was the test subject who destroyed their research hall. I once attended the Academy of Thoron at the age of eighteen,” Aspen revealed. “The head master claimed I had a gift, encouraging me to apply. In truth, I had no business attending the college, let alone mingle with those of greater intelligence.”

  Mara gaped at her, not expecting Aspen to spill her heart out and tell her life story. Nevertheless, it was very interesting to hear about her past.

  “So, you’re from Thoron?” Mara asked. “At least you were out of the Faith’s reach.”

  Aspen stared at her. “Do you really think just because I lived in Thoron, I was safe?” She shook her head. “I was targeted by the Seekers, who wished to experiment on my plain and simple mind. All in the name of lifting humanity to a higher plane of existence.”

  “I believe they also knew about Aspen being a reincarnation,” Allen said. “They subjected her to a variety of experiments for two years. It changed her physiology. She’s half darkling.”

  Mara gazed at Aspen in awe.

  “What about the other half?” Mara wondered out loud. Allen’s face fell sombre and he became silent. She took notice of the look on his face.

  “I’m also an undying,” Aspen answered her question.

  Mara looked back at her with her mouth open.

  “Thanks to the experiments, Aspen never saw her twenty-first birthday,” Allen revealed. “After destroying the research hall, she ran away unbeknownst to her parents. With her newfound powers, she learned many things from everyone around her. Aspen survived on her own for three years before she met me. I was skeptical about her powers until she said your name. She also knew about my hatred of the Faith, and persuaded me to take her to Ardana. In exchange, she’ll help me defeat Kallikratés for what they’ve done to my father and you. For many of my inventions, she played a role in their creation.”

  “We hid her away for the last five years, knowing the Faith will come after her,” James said.

  “And I came up with the design for her armour, allowing her to hide in plain sight,” Allen added. “Even the commander, who often visits the Council Hall, was oblivious to her identity.”

  Mara stood there in silence. She then turned her gaze to Aspen. “So, you’re not Allen’s creation?”

  “No, I’m not,” Aspen replied, “but they did so much for me. If not for them, I would not be able to guide you.”

  Allen and James gazed back at Aspen.

  “What are you talking about?” Allen asked.

  “I knew about Mara all along,” the Watcher confessed. “I guided her out of the Dark Labyrinth. When Ozin Village hanged her, I was there when she returned to life. I cut her down from the tree and instructed her to find Harold.”

  “You couldn’t tell me this?” Allen looked crossed.

  “It’s okay,” Mara said. “I understand why she never told you.”

  Allen looked at her. “Mara…”

  Mara shook her head. “The Faith came after me and my family. Mom and Dad didn’t deserve to suffer. What if they came after you two?”

  Allen sighed. There was some truth to her words.

  Thoughts of the former Silver Thorn master returned to Mara’s mind. “I should go see Harold. See if he at least has the real Godstruck.”

  “Then you should go as soon as possible,” the Watcher advised. “Kallikratés is planning an attack at Greyward Hold.”

  Mara gawked at her.

  Allen placed his hands in his pockets. “She got this information from one of the higher-ups last night. They were just outside our door, and Aspen picked it up.” He shrugged. “Since the Faith was responsible for the possessors’ deaths, we have reason to believe Harold is next.”

  “Why didn’t they attack after the Silver Thorns disbanded?” Mara questioned.

  “Probably thought it was too much trouble to deal with a lich and an undying, so they decided to capture you,” Allen speculated. “Not just because you’re dangerous to them, but to draw you away from Harold.”

  The huntress looked back at him. “If he’s in danger, I must help him.”

  Allen nodded. “Okay, I understand. Just don’t get yourself killed again. We can send you through the Gateway. We’ve set up a marker at Greyward Hold. Aspen will be watching you. Once you get the sword, we’ll send her to get you.”

  He led her to the Gateway. The gold ornate device was familiar to Mara. She used this during a rescue mission at the Black Tower. According to Allen, it was a modified version of an ancient device he saw while visiting Thoron. The original was a time travel machine, but its use was forbidden by the Thoron Sages because it was too dangerous. Mara gazed at the giant clock face with a hollow centre. The outer ring had runes etched on. Some staves or markers sat near the device. Each marker had a blue gem on top, though they were inactive.

  Allen approached a lever and pulled on it, activating the machine. The lights flickered as the Gateway drew power. A light hum came from the machine. The runes on the outer ring glowed bright blue. Allen went to the pedestal and pushed some tiles on the dial, setting the coordinates for Greyward Hold. An image appeared in the hollow centre, showing the frozen fort on Grey Mountain.

  Mara took a step forward, then stopped. She looked back at the three who were anticipating her departure. It was clear they were concerned for her safety, but if she could get the real Godstruck from Harold, everything would be fine and they’d have a weapon capable of defeating Kallisto. The Moen brothers nodded to her, wishing her luck. She then looked at the Watcher. Aspen also nodded while equipping her visor back onto her face.

  Mara placed her hood back on, then lifted the mask over her nose and mouth. She turned around and entered the portal.

  Chapter Six

  The Second Truth

  Mara arrived at Greyward Hold with the help of the Gateway. It seemed quiet while she exited the portal. She never thought she would ever see the frozen fort again. Approaching the large iron doors, Mara glanced down and noticed several foot prints leading to the front gate. They looked fresh. She furrowed her eyebrows. As far as she was concerned, Greyward Hold had been deserted since Harold disbanded the Silver Thorns. For a while, only she and the former guild master inhabited this place.

  Opening the doors, she froze at the sight of several bodies greeting her. They were Holy Blades, judging by their golden armour. The dark residue covering the rotting corpses made them appear black. It was the miasma of a lich. Mara had seen what it was capable of, recalling the previous incident with a snow beast. Harold probably filled all of Greyward Hold with it, killing the Holy Blades as soon as they entered. It appeared the former master didn’t need her help. The silence, however, was unsettling. There was no roaring fire in the grand hall. Everything was cold and dead. The former Silver Thorn master was not among the sea of corpses. Mara knew where to find him.

  While approaching his quarters, Mara noticed her surroundings growing darker the further she went. It could be the miasma, but she would’ve been affected already. It was difficult to tell when those Holy Blades arrived. The miasma could kill quickly, rotting the flesh off bone. The lingering haze was no longer effective, making her reckon it had been at least an hour since the group arrived. She reached the doors, knowing he had to be on the other side. Mara opened them and entered his chambers.

  She identified the former master by his dark grey robes decorated with dull-gold trimmings. As far as Mara could tell, he remained the same from the last time she saw him. He still wore his black gloves and boots. The hood covered his head. It was hard to see his dark silver mask for he was facing down. The wooden staff with two silver stones were in his hands.

  Harold sat in his chair. Mara walked towards him with trepidation. The dark haze in the room seemed strongest around him. The miasma was still exuding from the former master. Mara stopped, not daring to go any further. He was as still as a statue.

&nbs
p; “Ah, you have returned,” he greeted.

  Mara gazed at him. “I was told you were in danger. Kallikratés planned to kill you, but I can see they already arrived.”

  “And you had quite the adventure yourself,” Harold said. “I knew they captured you.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Through Khan,” he answered. “All who possess a seal can sense each other. Khan’s seal remained unbroken until a number of days ago, and we have you to thank. Keep in mind, I do not bear ill will towards you. It is almost a relief to know his suffering has ended.”

  “He thought I was his daughter.” Mara glanced down at her abdomen. “He mutilated me when he was the Dark Dweller.”

  “Oh, so you know about Amara?” Harold asked.

  She nodded. “He said she was one of the reincarnations the Faith hunted.”

  “She was,” the former master revealed. “Khan raised her alone since her mother died. One fateful day, the father and daughter were approached by an envoy, inviting them to the palace for three days. Khan thought the invitation was strange, but then he discovered the reason behind it.”

  “The God-King wanted to buy Amara,” Mara said.

  “Yes,” he responded, “but Khan refused his gold. Kratés had him thrown out and kept his daughter, separating them for a year.”

  “What happened to Amara?” Mara asked.

  “None of us knew until the day the Dark One awoke,” he said. “After the creature was defeated, we entered the Dark One and discovered the source of her awakening. Amara was fused to the beast’s core; she was barely recognizable. It was then we learned about the immense power of the undying. The Dark One tapped into the magical energy fuelling her curse and used her as a source of power. We were unable to remove Amara at the time. In anger, Khan went to confront the gods and their followers. It was the last time we ever saw him.”

  She folded her arms. “So, Kallisto was right. Amara did awaken the Dark One.”

  “Yes, but none of us believed she did so on purpose,” he said. “If I were you, I would do my best to ignore any dreadful words used to describe Amara, especially if they come from Kallisto.” Harold claimed, “I have known Amara personally, and a depraved slave girl isn’t something I’d describe her. It’s still very disheartening to know the depths of Kallisto’s hatred for her rival, even going as far as hunting her reincarnations.”

  His words caught her attention, making her think about the White Lady, the Siren, and the Marionette.

  “So, Kallisto was responsible for those undying? Why is the Faith hunting us?” Mara asked.

  “I will answer your questions, but you must answer mine.” The former master looked at her. “Do you still have the resolve to stop the Dark One?”

  Mara never expected such a question. He once rejected her offer to slay the great beast, but after learning about the undying fused to the creature’s core, the answer became clear.

  “Yes, I do,” she replied.

  He looked down. “Very well. I wish to test your resolve.”

  She noticed a change in the air. Not only did it grow darker, it also became poisonous. The toxic air made her cough. She lifted her hand to cover her mouth. Pulling away, she discovered her hand withering. Mara looked up at Harold and noticed more black mist billowing from the eyeholes, nostrils, and the thin mouth on his mask. She recognized the miasma.

  “Show me your resolve!” Harold called. He stood up and approached her.

  Mara fell to her knees and grew weak. It became harder to breathe. She felt as if her skin was splashed with acid. Every cell in her body was being destroyed.

  “You know what my miasma is capable of,” he warned. “It’s unfortunate the Holy Blades were unaware.”

  She needed to get away from him. Mara struggled to her feet and ran away. The former master watched as he followed. She entered a room to get away from the miasma. There was nothing here, so she left through another door. She had some time to recover while her flesh regenerated.

  “I fail to see your designs,” Harold called from beyond the door. “Do you hope to kill me this way?”

  She was trapped. Glancing around, Mara spotted a sword. It was a katana with a blue gem in its black and gold hilt. The blade gleamed in the darkness. It was the real Godstruck! The black haze began to billow from under the door. Harold was on the other side. She needed to act or he would defeat her right here and now. She grabbed the sword from its pedestal. Looking back at the door, she dashed towards it as fast as she could. The door swung open and she knocked the former master to the ground, catching him off guard. She gained an opportunity to flee into the grand hall. He recovered and followed her. He stopped upon seeing the sword in her hands.

  “Ah, you found Godstruck?” Harold asked.

  Mara unsheathed the sword. She gazed at the blade before looking back at him. “Why did you give me a fake sword?”

  The former master went silent for a moment, then chuckled. She watched him in confusion.

  “Did I really give you a fake sword?” He chuckled some more.

  Mara frowned. “I was going to use this on Kallisto, but was almost made prisoner again.”

  “You attempted to slay the goddess… Very well, though I wish to clarify one thing: the fake was forged the exact same way as the real one, with the same materials.” Harold continued, “I wanted to see if you were the one. When you offered to stop the Dark One, I refused because your destiny lies elsewhere. You play a much larger role than you realize.”

  She was perplexed. What did he mean? If the fake was anything like the real Godstruck, Karl would have been dead. Shaking her head, she ran at him, but he caught her by the throat and lifted her up. Mara struggled, but his grip remained strong.

  “What is it like to die?” Harold reached for his mask and pulled it off. Underneath was a skull with leathery skin stretched over it. His eyes were sunken and his lips were peeled away, revealing decaying teeth. Now Mara knew what a lich looked like. He might have smiled, but it was impossible to tell with his face being a mummified skull. There was nothing but bone underneath the skin. “I have never died since that fateful day. All thanks to Kallisto.”

  Then he breathed on her face. Mara’s hair fell out. Her skin rotted away and her eyeballs melted from her sockets. She tried to scream, but her throat was filled with dark mist. Her vocal cords were burned away. Her grasp on Godstruck loosened. It appeared to be over, but something overcame her. A blue spark shone within the darkness, growing ever so strong. Her hand tightened around the grip of the sword. A blue glow emanated from her eye sockets. Harold stopped and noticed the glow.

  The tiny spark burst into flames and surged throughout her being. A powerful force was unleashed from her body, removing the miasma. Mara began to regenerate; her muscles and skin were restored within seconds. Her hair grew back faster than she lost it. It was as if she had never been touched by the miasma. Harold looked as if he were staring into the face of a ghost. Her body exuded powerful magic, appearing like blue flames. He gazed back at her face, seeing her glowing blue eyes.

  “Thalia,” he whispered.

  Mara tore his arm away from her neck, then plunged the sword into his chest. He froze while the blade began to rob him of his life. His staff fell to the floor. After a moment, she pulled the sword out of him. Mara kept staring at the lich until the blue glow faded from her eyes. Another strange sensation overcame her, almost throwing her off balance. She lifted her hand to her face and rubbed her eyes. Shaking her head, the vertigo went away. Mara lowered her hand. When she looked at the former master, a sense of shock washed over her. Not only did she fatally stab the one who was helping her, she also broke another seal.

  Harold fell to his knees. His face began to change. The skin softened, growing loose and wrinkled. His nose and lips regenerated, making him more human. Pale blue eyes filled his sockets as thinning grey hair sprouted on his head. She suspected Harold became human. He glanced at the sword before lifting his gaze to her.
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  “She would never let you die,” he said.

  She looked confused. “Who?”

  “Thalia…”

  She was surprised to hear him say that name. “You know her?”

  He nodded. “She served the old covenant alongside me—the Order of Aazalith.”

  Mara gave a peculiar look. “You mentioned a forgotten guild before. Was that its name?”

  “Yes,” Harold replied. “Remember when I told you about the defeat of Aazalith?”

  She nodded.

  “Aazalith couldn’t be reasoned with, so the Thoron Sages removed her soul as a last resort,” the former master revealed. “While her body was sealed deep below Ghost Mountain, her soul had been contained within Golden Mountain for thousands of years. The Thoron Sages sought her soul so they could purify it and have the divine reborn without any malice. However, Ardana refused to hand it over and betrayed Thoron. Little did they know, the slumbering dragon and her soul was the source of the magic blight.”

  Mara gawked at him.

  “Magic is very dangerous,” he continued. “Not only does it create monsters, but it can corrupt the hearts and minds of the living. Even the purest hearts could become wicked. The people of Ardana suffered for a long time. To deal with the supernatural and magical corruption, the Order of Aazalith was founded.”

  “Like the Silver Thorns?”

  “Yes, but the covenant consisted of guardians, purifiers, and keepers,” the former master explained. “Purifiers neutralized the land of magic while the guardians protected them, slaying monsters created from the magic blight. The purifiers were mainly female while most of the guardians were male. Once a purifier fulfills their duty, they’re entombed in the Dark Labyrinth with their guardians alongside them. Those entombed still continue their duties, as they did in life. Though I do not know how many remain. And the keepers were tasked with guarding the soul of Aazalith, protecting it from humans with ill intentions. They were the only living beings allowed in the labyrinth.” Harold revealed, “I was the last keeper. Your progenitor was a purifier. We protected mankind until that fateful day, two thousand years ago.”