Page 1 of The Anointed's Paladin

1

A brush with death

Talon

The hot breath of the nagai brushed against my neck. Struggling, I held the creature back, though just barely. My arms were shaking with the effort, but the sweat on my back wasn’t just from exertion.

If its sharp fangs pierced my skin, I would have mere minutes before I dropped dead. I somehow had to extract myself while avoiding it’s venom.

It was glaring at me, a semi-human face illuminated by the beams of sunlight streaming through the old floorboards above us. Its top half was humanoid, with features that could have been handsome if its jaw wasn’t unhinged, stretched to a disturbing length.

It hissed, pushing forward against the staff I was using to hold it at bay. Its long, snakelike tail tightened around my chest. I growled back, surrendering to Mirilith’s curse and letting it course through me, giving me strength.

The nagai twisted, and I saw my chance; I let go of the staff and grabbed its chin, snapping its neck in one swift crack. Heat pulsed through my veins, my heart thundering as it roared with rage and power. My vision turned red as I struggled out of the coils of thick muscle around me and staggered forward. The nagai was already dead, but I continued to tear at it, my mind struggling to regain control of my body. Finally, the red receded from my vision, and I stopped, panting.

It was done.

The elation that came with victory soured as a burning sensation started on my arm. Looking down, I froze.

The fangs had nicked my forearm, leaving an ugly gash that was turning an alarming green.

I sank to the ground as the burning spread further up my arm.

Damn.

My mind spun frantically, and I reached for my healing. As Mirilith’s curse pounded in my head, I struggled to push it back—I needed to concentrate, not fight. If I focused and if I was fast, I had a small chance of cleansing the venom. I reached out for my oath magic, but as had been happening more and more lately, it didn’t come. Instead, I only generated a small trickle of healing. I blinked sweat out of my eyes, trying not to panic. Not now, damn it. I took a breath, trying to focus my magic by reciting my oath in my head.

I swear to be a guardian against darkness until my dying breath.

May my work bring solace to the tormented, protect the vulnerable, and bring just retribution to any that shed innocent blood.

My life, dedicated to the greater good until the spirit of my heart finds rest.

I grasped again for the healing magic, but none came.

For ten years, these words had empowered me, mentally and magically. Reciting them was supposed to stoke my magic like pouring oil on a fire.

Recently, they had not brought me peace or strengthened my resolve. Instead, they left a bitter taste in my mouth. Thinking of them at this moment made me face what I had been avoiding for months; I truly didn’t believe in them anymore.

My oath was hollow. Empty.

It seemed my fate was sealed.

I was breaking out in a sweat, my stomach turning as nausea built within me. My fear was pounding through my veins, and I pushed back Mirilith’s curse again. If I was going to die, I wanted to be in my right mind, not lost in fiery bloodlust.

What had gone wrong? I racked my brain, desperate for anything that could bring back the meaning in the words of my oath. I wanted to believe.

They had been made with hope that I could make a difference, despite my appearance. That I could find acceptance and my place in the world. Find a proper channel for the energy that simmered within me.

I had chased that dream for so long now and had realised recently how utterly unattainable it was.

It hadn’t worked.

I hugged my knees, swallowing around the lump in my throat. My arm was cramping up.

First, I thought maybe I hadn’t killed something big enough, saved enough people.

Then, perhaps, I needed to be more polite, more amiable, or save people the right way. Do better. Hide my storm.

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