Page 101 of The Anointed's Paladin

She thankfully gave a small nod. Excellent. I drew my knives and smiled. This was going to be deliciously bloody.

46

Here we go

Talon

The edge of the forest led to a small, ruined village. The buildings were near collapse; dilapidated and overgrown with weeds and vines. In the centre rose the tower, its ancient stones weathered but unyielding to the same forces that had ruined its companions. The wet air was thick, heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay.

I had been thinking as I marched towards the tower, trying to come up with an oath. I was trying to remember what Hulm had taught me, all those years ago.

An oath is a way to capture and focus a core belief. The power isn’t in the words; it’s believing something so completely, so purely, that you align yourself with the magic that flows throughout the universe.

It had been easy back then, and I hadn’t thought about it much. My family had been slaughtered by aberrations, and I’d known my life’s purpose was to prevent that from happening to anyone else.

What is my purpose now?

My purpose was to find a purpose, which was useless to me.

The event that had triggered all this change was almost dying.

Could I make an oath to never die?

No, that was dumb. I scratched the back of my neck.

Nothing else had happened since then. I’d been given a quest I didn’t want and somehow managed to meet amazing people along the way.

I had felt purpose, yesterday, when I’d decided I was okay with dying. But I couldn’t make an oathtodie, either.

I walked on, my fruitless thoughts repeating in my head.

It was slightly underwhelming, knowing this forgotten settlement was what we had been trying to reach this whole time. It was old, abandoned, and falling apart.

The outer walls surrounding the village were decorated with ornate mosaics, mostly patchy and crumbling. I examined them, wondering if they’d have a clue to what relic we were seeking.

I strode ahead, peering at the scenes as I passed. From what I could make out, they contained depictions of the gathering of all kinds of races, even hellspawn. Above them, over and over, were other people—some humanoid, some bearing more otherworldly forms, all adorned with radiant gold. The gold figures were most prominent; they sat regally on thrones in each scene. One wall gave me pause, since it was noticeably more preserved than the others. I stopped, wondering what the difference was. All told a similar story—a battle between gold-adorned figures and those without.

The hellspawn races were notably absent from this mural.

This one was more familiar. I reached up and touched the face of one of the figures; it was Lydes, sitting on a gilded throne.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled; the stories told here were fragments of a forgotten history.

My gaze fell to the fallen figures at their feet. Was Cirae depicted here? Droue?

I pressed forward. The next wall was reduced to rubble. I looked at the blackened soot stains that marred the rubble surrounding us, covering the glimmering colours of a destroyed mosaic. This part wasn’t just crumbling—someone had blasted it apart at some point. I couldn’t make out the story it had once told, but its destruction told me a different tale; one of a history not forgotten but erased.

I picked my way through crumbling buildings carefully, slowing as I reached the tower.

47

You got the wrong guy

Talon

Iheld my sword tightly in my hand and stepped onto the path that led up to the tower. This close, I could even make out the moss that clung to the side.

I had waited for a while, watching, but nothing had stirred besides the tower. So, I pressed forward, silent but very exposed in the wide courtyard. The wind blew through the clearing that lay between me and the tower, stirring leaves along the ground.

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