Death of the Hero

Dumbfounded, I stare at the scene unfolding before me, agape. The ominous roots twist, blood dripping along them.

“This can’t be real. This can’t be true. To begin with, the Hero should never have been here. This makes no sense… He’s not supposed to spawn here, simply because the boss of this kingdom is too strong for him to beat at the beginning of the game.”

    A worrisome smile creeps on Erlkœnig’s features, a crimson glow gleaming in his eyes.

“Tír-nan-cnocc’s emissary of the Tain is the last one he’s supposed to fight.”

    But, first and foremost, the Hero shouldn’t have tried to save the Saintess. It is not before the prophecy is spread throughout the five kingdoms that he learns about the looming threat and decides to fight the evil.

“What will save this world, now?”

    Before my eyes, the roots end up tearing to pieces what once was a human body.

“Let’s resume where we left off.” The King says quietly.

    Such a fool… What did he think? Did he know what awaited him here?

    I clench my fist, gripping the grass beneath.

    Naive heroes like him, I’ve always hated them. They make more promises than they can keep.

    Footsteps enclose. Hurried. Abruptly stopping.

    Slowly, I turn my head to take sight of Tyffeon’s figure.

“What is going on…”

    At the same moment, the remnants of the Hero’s body change colour, becoming translucent. Their rigidity leaves them and, trembling, they turn into droplets of water. Splattering the ground as well as my back.

    I can’t help but stiffen at the damp contact. That’s true… In this world, whatever dies returns to the element it is bound to. Giving back to the world the magic it borrowed from. There’s nothing to bury, no grave where flowers can be laid.

“Tyffeon,” Erlkœnig calmly begins, “Tyffeon, there you are. Splendid. Truly Splendid.”

    As soon as he hears his voice, Tyffeon’s irises shrink. He’s tensed.

    On the other hand, the King comes closer to him. But something is off. His skin begins to grey, his colours to fade. Except for the glow in his eyes.

“You disappointed me. You used to follow orders so meekly.” He reaches Tyffeon’s side and, as the latter remains frozen, the King steps behind him. His hands find their way to his shoulders. “And that was but a fair return after I gave you a place by my side. You haven’t forgotten, Tyffeon, did you? If it wasn’t for me, you’d never have reached such a position. No, to be honest, you wouldn’t even be alive if I hadn’t allowed it.” His disturbing smile then fades. “And yet you chose to betray me. You betrayed me despite I was the only one to honour your efforts, to recognise your value.”

    The more he speaks, the more Tyffeon clenches his teeth, his irises trembling.

“Don’t listen to him!” I protest, rising to my feet. There’s no way I bear listening to that any longer. “All he did was use you all along! He doesn’t deserve to have someone like you by his side. He-”

“Silence.” Erlkœnig orders with an oddly authoritative tone, leaving me breathless. Then an idea seems to cross his mind, and he refocuses his attention on Tyffeon. “I know. Since I am a magnanimous king, I will offer you a second chance.”

    As he utters these words, his sclera fills with darkness until becoming pitch-black.

    That’s too late. He’s been corrupted. Tainted.

“Kill the Saintess.” Erlkœnig breathes. “Kill her now and I will forgive your misguidance.”

    The Alders’ King. The Elven King.

    He thinks his name is a blessing, but it is nothing more than a curse.

    Of course, the Saintess who named him like this didn’t expect such events. But, in my world, Erlkœnig is the name of a legendary king. A fallen king in a kingdom fled by joy. Where only greyness remained, the melancholy in his eyes was the last relic of his lands’ greatness.

    Somehow, Erlkœnig walked down the path of his loss since the moment of his birth.

“All I have to do is to kill her?” Tyffeon whispers.

“Yes.”

    Taking a step forward, Tyffeon reaches for his sword’s hilt, at his waist.

“Even if you do this, your King will end up killing you in turn. Deep down, you know that, don’t you? There’s no turning back.” I tell him, holding his gaze. I have no weapon, no elemental magic, and I don’t even know how to use my benediction. So instead of making a vain attempt at running away, I stand still. “This world is endangered. Unfortunately, the one he just killed was supposed to be a hero. Do you truly wish to serve such a man?”

“Heroes don’t exist.” Tyffeon begins, drawing his sword. “There won’t ever be anyone to save you each time you’re in danger. There won’t ever be anyone to save you from this world’s cruelty. Though, this…”

    At the moment Tyffeon is about to slaughter me, he turns around in the blink of an eye, throwing instead his sword through the air right at the King of Daoine Sidhe.

“…you already knew it, didn’t you?”

    In a breath, I barely have the time to widen my eyes before I can feel his grasp around my wrist.

    Taken aback by the sudden attack, Erlkœnig dodges the sword, his eyes focused on the blade as it leaves in its wake a slight cut on his cheek.

    Tyffeon doesn’t miss the opportunity to run, dragging me along with him.

“This doesn’t mean we are helpless. We should still struggle on our own!”

“Ty..ffe..on…” Erlkœnig voice calls ominously, the word barely uttered giving way to a cry of pure rage.

    A beat.

    I glance back at the King. That feeling… That’s no good.

    All around him, the ground begins to rumble. Roots surge all around, thicker and twisting.

    As we run away, Tyffeon retrieves his sword without halting.

    In no time, screams end up tearing apart the silent night. But this time, these were the villagers’. The roots now emerge in any part of Rathard, be it through roofs or along the ramparts. They wiggle like snakes, slamming abruptly on the path we take.

“And now?! Do you have a plan at least?” I ask Tyffeon.

    He barely stops in front of another root which has just surged, promptly correcting his trajectory.

“We run!”

“That’s not a plan!!”

    As we head towards the village’s entrance, it somehow comes into sight.

    A slight hope.

    A few metres more, just a few metres and we’ll be out of Rathard.

    As if.

    The moment we get closer to the entrance, a tangle of these cursed roots seals the exit. Trapped like rats, we turn back only to distinguish the King’s figure approaching us.

“You didn’t think I would let you escape this place, now, did you? How foolish… How foolish!!” He breaks into laughter, his hand against his face. “I’ll bring back glory to Tír-nan-cnocc, and you’ll help me do so! Ahh yess… I can already hear the screams of our proud warriors. Glorious fights await us! Rejoice, rejoice to be part of this kingdom’s salvation!”

“Are you aware of what you’re saying?” Tyffeon intervenes. “Don’t you see what you’re doing to Rathard?”

“Rathard is getting rebirthed. Though, that sight, maybe an impostor like you can’t appreciate it?” He mocks, and Tyffeon stiffens at his words. “After all, you’re not even gifted with Lignum magic.”

    These words, these are the ones to which he is the weakest. More than anyone else, I am aware of it.

“Tyffeon, don’t waste your words on him.” I chime in. “He already lost his mind. There’s no way to reason with him.”

    Unfortunately, Erlkœnig has not even used his powers to their full extent yet.

    From the corner of my eye, I notice several elven silhouettes heading our way. Thin branches are wrapped here around their waist, there around their neck… Their gazes are empty, lacking any spark.

    He is the Elven King…

“Tssk. In this case…”

    My focus quickly returns to Tyffeon as he draws his sword.

“Don’t do this! He’s far too strong!! If you want to attempt something, then use your magic and maybe we’ll able to-”

“My magic? My benediction won’t save us.”

“Not this, your true-”

    He scowls at me, shooting me a death stare.

“I don’t need any other magic.” He cuts me off, bitterness dripping from his words.

    And rushes straight at the King.

“Tyffeon!!”

    He already encloses Erlkœnig, the latter only displaying an ecstatic smile. He doesn’t even bother to launch his roots at him.

    Tyffeon’s blade cuts air, before his move is suddenly halted. Not because the sword has sunk in flesh, the King has simply caught the blade with his bare hand.

    A few droplets of blood don’t seem to concern him as his smile broadens, appreciating the surprise in Tyffeon’s eyes.

“Did you think an error like you could truly be a threat?”

    Barely letting him the time to clench his teeth, Erlkœnig releases the sword only to catch him by the collar in the blink of an eye.

“This said, your resilience is commendable. Very well…” He sends Tyffeon flying to his left at full speed, letting him bump into a tree trunk. Wood cracks, splinters fly.

“Tyffeon!!”

“…I’ll let you become one of my warriors.” The King concludes.

    While Tyffeon lays on the ground where he finally landed, multiple roots creep towards him.

“Don’t let them touch you! Tyffeon, get up!! Don’t let them touch you or you’ll lose your free will!!”

    Before my mind can stop them, my legs begin to move on their own, running in his direction. That’s senseless. There’s no way I reach Tyffeon before the roots touch him and make a mindless puppet out of him. I know it’s vain, but somehow… I can’t help but run.

“Tyffeon, use it! Use your true magic!”