Hope might have liked to return to the cell, rather than listen to the false goddess. She opened her mouth to reject her words, hesitated, and looked at Furore. They both had horns, weird eyes, and vibrant skin. Furore’s body was a darker purple, while Hope’s was a soft lavender, but there were obvious similarities between them. Furore seemed to know a lot about her origin too, even if she’d never made an attempt to explain why before.
“I’m a demon?”
“No, you were a demon. Once.” Furore stretched her legs out over the cliff. “You’re mortal now, Hope. You can blame that on me. I won’t take responsibility, necessarily, but it’s my fault. I had grand plans for you, if you could prove that you could survive on the surface, and if you could find someone to mate with.”
“If you’re the goddess of love, couldn’t you decide that I would have a true love to have children with?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“That’s what your temple says.”
Furore faced her with a winsome grin. “Some idiot god decided to give mortals free will. At most, I as a goddess can write your name on my list, and lead you along the way. I haven’t guided your steps because I’ve been busy.”
“Busy with what?”
“I have millions of names on my list, Hope. I may have been a minor goddess, in the beginning, when I usurped the throne, but I’ve expanded my empire over the centuries. We both started out as demons, but while I’ve risen, I fear you’re falling deeper and deeper. You have to make a choice to get back up, Hope. They can’t defeat you unless you let them.”
Hope laughed at that. She only felt beaten these days. Hungry. “You only think so because you’re powerful. But I’m weak. Mortal. I have no powers.”
“I think you’re wrong.” Furore glanced at her briefly, averted her gaze like everyone else when their eyes met, and grinned. “I don’t fully understand what I created when I altered you, but I do believe you have a feature that gives you some modicum of power. Your eyes worked on Venviel, and there’s nothing special about her. She’s another traumatized elf.”
“Venviel is special!” Hope exclaimed. “She’s my… a hero.”
“Your hero?” Furore snorted, extended her hand in front of her, and made the jagged dagger grow in length until it became a sword. “I’m sick of heroes. They’re self-righteous, full of themselves. Even when you do your best for them, they curse your name and label you a twisted demon. The world doesn’t need more heroes.”
“Yes, it does. Lho Allanar—“
“Hope, listen to me.” Furore laid an arm over her shoulders, pulled her close, and sheathed her sword at her hip. “You can save yourself. I believe in you. The elves have underestimated you so long they won’t know what to think when you use your demon powers. You’ll leave them quivering, in fear, wetting themselves.”
“You’re delusional. I don’t have magical eyes. If I did, I wouldn’t know how to use them. You haven’t trained me.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start, Hope, but I’ve faith in you.” Furore kissed her on the head, in a manner which was strangely similar to how a parent might kiss their baby. “You’re a demon. It’s in your blood. You don’t need training. What you need is an unquestionable belief in yourself, pure unadulterated arrogance, and you’ll go further than anyone. Your subservience has held you back.”
“I doubt it’s the only thing I lack. I…” Hope relaxed against Furore. “I couldn’t hurt anyone. I don’t want to kill the inquisitors or the priestesses. They were my friends, once.”
“They weren’t. If they didn’t outright ignore your existence, they took advantage of you.” Furore lifted her arm off Hope’s shoulders. “Maybe there’s something else you lack too, besides confidence, but I can’t imagine what it would be. It’s not like you lose anything if you try to climb out of the hole they’ve put you in.”
“I guess.”
She didn’t want to kill, but maybe she could channel whatever power coursed through her blood in some other way. Furore had a point. If she failed, nothing would happen. She’d at most hurt herself. If she succeeded, she might change her current fate. And she didn’t want to rot in a dungeon.
“Venviel will definitely fall harder for demon Hope than inquisitor Hope.” Furore nudged her with her elbow. “No criminal loves a judge.”
“She…” Hoped trailed off, her tails thumped the cliff in anticipation. She nodded, and knew she had to try. For herself, for Venviel. “I think I love her. I—“
Something under the cliff let out a guttural, primal roar that caused her tails to immediately stop moving.
“Fantastic, kid.” Furore flashed a hesitant grin. “You ready to get out of here? I’m afraid Ithrix has noticed us in his domain, and truthfully, he kind of hates my entire thing. Personality, looks. All of it.”
Hope took a quick, final look at the Scarlet Kingdom. The place which might have been her home if Furore hadn’t gotten involved. The goddess was right. It was sort of unremarkable, but any place would have been without Venviel. Hope wouldn’t have felt at home among demons. Not without someone who cherished her.
“I’m ready,” Hope said. “And I’ll try to use my eyes for… others, if I have any powers at all.”
“Wrong attitude. Don’t think of others. Think of yourself as the greatest good in all the realms.”
“I’m a goddess then?”
“That’s the spirit.” Furore smirked and grabbed her. “Now, let’s get you back to your cell. The Scarlet Kingdom is not for mortals.”
Lost Cause
Faraine caressed her mace lovingly while Venviel walked down the scaffolding towards the grassy, overgrown courtyard of the palace. She hadn’t gone anywhere. She’d set up camp, summoned a couple of guards, and waited her out. The sun hadn’t crawled far across the sky since they’d last seen each other.
Venviel had exerted effort, climbing the tower, for naught. She may as well have asked Faraine if she could have napped in the tent she’d erected.
“Slept well, rabbit?” Faraine asked.
“None of your business. “ Venviel struggled to stop herself from yawning. “Is your offer still open, or do your lackeys change matters?”
“Why?” Faraine didn’t acknowledge the guards. Neither of the men would move a muscle unless she ordered them to. “You think you can give me the slip twice in one day?”
“No, but…” Venviel unsheathed her rapier, pointed it at Faraine, and readied herself. “If your offer is still on the table, you’d capture me alive, not dead. Isn’t that worth more?”
“I’m sure it is.” Faraine pointed the mace at her. “So sure, my offer is on the table. If you give yourself over to me, I’ll reward you. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”
“Good.” Venviel yawned, lowered her rapier. “Bring me to Hope.”
“Hope?” Faraine looked disappointed. “Here I thought we’d have fun, you and I. Not you and the monster.”
“I don’t care what you do with me afterwards, Faraine, but I want to see Hope in the flesh.”
“This might be your final wish, before they decide to hang you for treason.” Faraine extended her hand towards one of the guards, and the man threw her a rope. “Are you certain you wish to waste it on Hope?”
“I am, but I also need you to swear you’ll bring me to her, or I’ll cut you down.”
“I’ll bash your face in, you mean. You won’t land a scratch on me.”
“Probably the likelier outcome.” Venviel turned her head from side to side to shake her bangs out of her face. “Someone will die though. And you will not be promoted as high as you could be.”
“I swear I’ll bring you to Hope.” Faraine held her mace in one hand, the rope in the other, and approached with slow steps. “Good enough for you, rabbit?”
“Swear on the goddess.” Venviel raised her rapier, stepped backward. If Hope didn’t appreciate her for what she did when she surrendered, Venviel would have some harsh words for her.
Faraine paused, raised her gaze towards the sky, and gripped the rope. “I…”
“Do it!”
“Fine, you bitch.” Faraine growled, strapped the mace to her belt. “I swear on the goddess herself that I’ll bring you to your precious Hope. Are you happy?”
“I am.” Venviel sheathed her rapier as well, so when they met each other at the bottom of the scaffolding, they didn’t come to blows.
“I pray this hurts.” Faraine grabbed her arms, twisted them up behind her back, and forced Venviel to kneel. Then she tied her hands, so hard that she might have stopped blood from flowing freely through her limbs.
“Isn’t it odd how the goddess encourages this kind of behaviour?”
“She’s the goddess of love, not mercy.” Faraine pulled her up on her feet. “If you’re doing this for Hope, how are you blind to the fact that the goddess is exactly as cruel to you as your own heart? Surrendering to me is not sane. It’s not smart. It’s emotional.”
“I’m doing this because—“
“You’re doing it because you love someone. You could’ve fled, years ago, but you love Lho Allanar too.”
Venviel didn’t respond. Faraine could think whatever she wanted to justify her actions, but the temple was needlessly cruel. Love wasn’t cruel for the sake of cruelty. It was a mere side effect. Life and fate could be ruthless, but love did its best. Even Furore, in spite of her glaring flaws, seemed to do her best. The goddess was just utterly incapable of doing anything right. Incompetent.
“Let’s bring the rabbit to the dungeon, and—“
“You swore you’d bring me to Hope!” Venviel shouted. “Does it take no time for you to break your word? Do you have no honour?”
Faraine struck her over the head. “I am bringing you to Hope. She’s in the dungeon.”
“What’s she doing there if…” Venviel trailed off. She should have trusted Hope. They wouldn’t have locked her in a dungeon if she’d sided with the temple.
“While we walk, I’d like for you to shut your mouth,” Faraine said. “If you speak, if you get cocky, I’ll cave your skull in and dump you in the ocean. That’ll teach others a lesson, if nothing else.”
Venviel nodded in response. Faraine dragged her out of the courtyard, down the road, and away from the palace. The guards followed, but they didn’t speak either. At most, they told those bystanders who were too curious to mind their own business.
She hoped she’d get a chance to set things right with Hope, to begin again, but it seemed doubtful. The temple didn’t show mercy to its prisoners. The inquisitors executed them in public on orders from the high priestess.
If Venviel was shown mercy, it would only be because someone had killed Keerla before she’d gotten around to it. Unfortunately, no one thought someone else than her had assassinated the high priestess. They’d chased her because they’d decided she was the culprit. She could see why she should have trusted Hope all along. She’d had as much actual proof that Hope had betrayed her and her parents as the temple now had against her. None whatsoever.
Empathy
It may have been easy for Furore to unleash her demonic powers, but after the goddess had returned her to her cell, Hope had been trying for hours without accomplishing anything. She’d screamed, banged her fists against the walls, dug her nails into her skin, kicked the door, roared at the guards outside, and threatened to destroy the temple. Yet nothing happened.
Furore had left her to rot with the belief that she could free herself, but even though Hope had only grown angrier and angrier, especially at the false goddess, she’d gotten nowhere. She was as trapped and hungry as every other day.
She’d begun to doubt whether Furore had even told her the truth. If she was the goddess of love, it was already evident she resented Hope. Maybe she only wanted to heighten her suffering before she succumbed to starvation.
One of the guards banged on the door to her cell. “Stay by the far wall, prisoner.”
Hope stepped over to the wall, crossed her arms, and leaned against the stones. The guard unlocked the door to her cell, pulled it open, and stepped aside to let others enter. She’d expected to see Vaeri again since the priestess hadn’t visited in days. She’d not expected, or even wanted, to see Venviel. Not under these circumstances.
Faraine, an inquisitor Hope mostly knew by reputation, pushed Venviel inside and stopped in the doorway. Venviel stumbled, yawned, and blinked drowsily as she tried to get accustomed to the darkness. They’d tied her hands behind her back.
“Is this good enough for you, rabbit?” Faraine pushed Venviel further. “Go ahead, say your farewells. Neither of you are getting out of this alive.”
“Hope?” Venviel stared straight into her eyes. She was the only one brave enough to keep eye contact longer than seconds. “I should have trusted you. I’m sorry.”
Hope rushed over to her, despite the guard’s loud protests, and hugged Venviel like their lives depended on it. If Faraine or the guards struck her down for hugging her love, so be it. “No. I’m sorry.” Hope trailed her hands along Venviel’s midsection, hips, and found the rapier in its scabbard. Why hadn’t Faraine disarmed Venviel when they’d captured her?
“You should stop saying that, Hope. I don’t know anyone with less to apologize for.” Venviel pressed her head against hers. “Sorry sounds as bad coming from your lips as Miss Amicier.”
“Cute.” Faraine made a hoarse, throaty noise like she was about to vomit. “Miss Amicier. I prefer rabbit.”
Hope put her mouth next to Venviel’s ear, glared at the inquisitor, and whispered: “Would you die with me?”
Venviel nodded without hesitating. Hope had predicted another day of darkness, and no escape, since her demonic blood had failed her. Instead, she pushed Venviel to the side, stepped forth, and positioned herself between Orchid Brave and the temple.
If Faraine or the guards wanted Venviel, they would have to go through her. It would be quite poetic for them to die together in a secret cell somewhere under Lho Allanar. Syvis might write about them, one day, if their story got out.
“Don’t be stupid, Hope.” Faraine drew her mace. “As much as I would personally like to kill both of you, I’m not doing this for pleasure. Step aside. The rabbit is mine. She promised she wouldn’t pull stupid stunts.”
“Faraine, you need to leave.” Hope fixated her with her gaze, imagined herself drilling through her grey eyes, dominating her psyche, and using a seed of power to get the inquisitor to obey. For Venviel, Orchid Brave, her love. “Venviel is mine. If you think I’ll surrender her into your custody, you’re sorely mistaken. As far as I’m aware, I’ve not been officially relieved of my duties. I’m an inquisitor too.”
Faraine opened her mouth to retort, but no words came. The redhead seemed taken aback by her sudden inability to speak. She tried and tried to speak, stuck her tongue out, but she couldn’t voice her displeasure.
It was the first sign to Hope that Furore may actually have told her the truth. She’d never shut anyone up before. They’d always ordered her to be quiet, bow low, and listen. Always. She’d been a doormat to them.
Faraine composed herself, raised her mace, and moved to attack. The guards unsheathed their swords as well.
“Leave! Now!” Hope shouted for Venviel, stretched her arms forth, and staggered the five elves. She forced them to retreat with willpower and love.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Venviel said.
“I couldn’t…” Hope smiled in disbelief. “Not without you.”
“Give me the rabbit, Hope,” Faraine struggled to form the words and grimaced, as if overcome by grief. “You’re in over your head.”
“I’m not! You’re spitting in the face of the goddess!” Hope swore she kept the confused guards at bay with her voice alone.
But Faraine was another matter entirely. The inquisitor forced her eyes shut, swung her mace at Hope, and broke her right forearm with a loud, disgusting crunch. Hope whimpered i
n pain, withdrew her arm, and clutched it against her chest. She stopped looking at her enemies to nurse her injury. They shook whatever spell she’d put them under.
“I love you, Venviel.”
“Die together then.” Faraine swung her mace with wild abandon again, but didn’t open her eyes, and missed. “Come, come, monster. I might hit the rabbit otherwise. And you wouldn’t want that, would you?”
Hope raised her uninjured arm, focused on Venviel, and did what Furore had encouraged her to do. Channel her demonic energy towards the temple. She didn’t draw power from arrogance, but she connected with a well which had been closed and unseen to her in the past. It opened up to her like dawn after a season-long night.
“I love you too, Hope,” Venviel whispered. “For all the good that does us now.”
Hope’s connection to the well strengthened with Venviel’s confession. So near and dear, it burst with intense radiance. Her twin tails wrapped around the elf’s leg to have her closer, and siphon strength from someone who’d always seemed impervious.
She welcomed the well’s light into herself. Only when it was too late did she realize that there was such a thing as too much power. It made her wobbly and weak. Her vision darkened. She stood on the edge of unconsciousness and unleashed everything.
Faraine’s mace struck her right arm again, again, and left her bones shattered, broken. Then the light from the well exploded into the cell.
Miracle
“That’s new,” Furore said when she witnessed Hope’s light through Fate’s glass ball. “And very disconcerting.”
She’d thought there was a limit to Hope’s power, or she wouldn’t have told her the truth about her origins. Yet the light that emerged out of Hope spread through the cell, the dungeon, and spilled out into the streets of Lho Allanar like waves. It engulfed elf after terrified elf.
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