As he slipped into unconsciousness, his last thought was that he had failed. The darkness was a void, consuming all light and hope, leaving him adrift in an endless abyss. But somewhere in the depths of his mind, a seed of resilience took root and began to sprout. Even in the blackness, Aleric's indomitable will refused to be snuffed out.
Time seemed to stretch and warp, his consciousness flickering like a dying ember. He was vaguely aware of a presence—a comforting warmth that enveloped him, cradling his battered soul. It was as if some unseen force was mending the fractures within him, urging him to hold on, to fight.
And then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, the darkness began to recede. Flecks of light pierced the void, growing brighter and more numerous. Aleric felt as though he was being pulled towards something, an unknown destination that called to him with a promise of change.
Aleric stirred, a low groan escaping his lips as consciousness seeped into his mind. The events leading to this moment felt like wisps of fog—elusive and distant. Thoughts tumbled around inside him: the fractured memory of his parent's death, being sold to the Order soon after, and the aching desire for freedom that had burned in his chest for years.
Just then, Aleric's instincts kicked his mind into overdrive. There was a presence nearby, and it was so close that he wondered how he had overlooked its existence.
"Ah, you're awake at last," purred a voice, silky and untroubled, breaking the stillness that enveloped him. "Care to explain how a mortal like you dropped in on me unannounced? Or, more importantly, why? It was rather inconsiderate."
With a slow blink, Aleric opened his eyes. What greeted him was an ethereal domain, an expanse filled with the delicate balance of light and darkness. Shadows danced across the ground, creating an ever-changing landscape that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Three feet away from him in a chair made of obsidian, sat a woman whose mere presence commanded his attention.
Her jet-black hair flowed like liquid night, and her intense violet eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and authority. She wore an elegant dress seemingly woven from the shadows themselves, shifting and swirling around her, framing a figure whose curves made his heart race.
The bed he was chained to, which kind of pissed him off, was both a blessing and a curse—the cool, sinister embrace lulling him into an uneasy sense of comfort while reminding him of his vulnerability. Despite the situation, he felt his member stir, betraying him.
"Uh, sorry," he stammered embarrassingly, willing his lower body into compliance. "But I have no clue where I am or why I'm here. I was kind of hoping you might fill me in."
She looked at him incredulously, disbelief etched on her striking features. "You must be either severely uneducated or blind, otherwise you'd know who, or rather what, I am. You'd never speak so freely if you did."
A shroud of indignation ignited within him. "Honestly, lady, I don't care who the fuck you are, small-time mob boss, leader of the local PTA, or queen of your own goddamned country. Respect is earned, and so far, you've given me zero reasons to show any." The smirk on his lips was undercut by a tremor in his voice—a strange combination of audacity and fear. "Nice touch with the chains by the way, but shouldn't we at least set up a safe word or something?"
The woman's cheeks flushed a shade of pink, and Aleric felt a sudden thrill at the sight.
"So bold for a mortal," she uttered, amusement dancing in her voice as she regarded him. "You strangely intrigue me. I haven't felt like this in centuries. Fine, I'll tell you what I know."
Aleric waited for her to speak, clearly not amused by her cavalier attitude. "Three weeks ago, by your human reckoning, a portal appeared in my garden—a glimmering tear in the fabric of reality. And out you came. Completely naked and on the brink of soul death, this dagger lodged deep in your heart, which coincidentally had been completely obliterated." She revealed the weapon, and his breath hitched at the sight. The cold steel, glistening with malice, was like a mirror reflecting his own dark past.
"You were missing your mana core as well as your anastasis pearl. I found it a bit odd, as I couldn't find even the barest hint of them left. Although to be perfectly honest, I'm not entirely sure mortals have the latter," she continued, her gaze trailing as if simply enjoying the scenery. "About seventy percent of your body was also either missing or irrevocably damaged. So, I just tossed the lot of it."
"I didn't put those chains on you, by the way. Those are the chains of your past. What kind of life could you possibly have lived for your soul to bear such a burden? If I'm not mistaken, you're a rather young soul, not even three decades old, yet..."
The beauty then looked straight into Aleric's eyes. It was such an intense look, he wouldn't be surprised if she was literally reading his soul.
The room tilted, and his thoughts spiraled back through the years. He was forced to confront the person he had been molded into—a bringer of death, despair, and ruin.
Memories flooded his mind in rapid succession. He saw the faces of those he had killed, the terror in their eyes, and the blood on his hands. The weight of his actions bore down on him as the raven-haired beauty sifted through his memories, unearthing every moment of manipulation and control.
He relived the countless times he had been broken and rebuilt, each time more ruthless and brutal than the last. Every mission, every betrayal, every life taken in the name of his keepers. It all came rushing back, a relentless tide of guilt and regret.
In that moment, he was no longer the hardened assassin; he was a man haunted by his past, exposed and vulnerable under her piercing scrutiny. A compassionate look filled the woman's face as she reached forward to run her hands through Aleric's short black hair, sending a shiver down his spine.
"Looking through your memories, I can see what a tragic life you led. The pain, isolation, and despair you have felt, they call to me. I do not believe you ended up in my realm by mere coincidence. As such, I have a proposition for you."
Aleric narrowed his eyes at her, his very being still a swirl of emotion caused by her intrusion.
"I am Aranya, Goddess of the Night, Shadows, and Secrets," she intoned, her voice a whisper that seemed to reverberate through the very shadows around them. Her gaze bore into him, watching his face for even the smallest of reactions.
The weight of this revelation pressed down on him, pushing against the walls of disbelief. "What do you want from me? I'm just—just a weapon, an object shaped by death. Or do you wish to use me as your weapon as well, just like those old bastards did? Cause if that's the case, forget it. I'll never allow myself to be used as a tool ever again."
"You are not just a weapon, you are so much more than that, Aleric," she countered, her emerald eyes piercing through him. "In this world, my world, you will be destined for so much more. You have felt pain and isolation; you know despair as few others do. Even with all you have been through, I can still sense compassion and kindness inside you. I want you as my Chosen."
He shook his head, incredulous. "You're crazy, lady. I'm no hero. I'm not even a nice guy. No one is going to trust me. And no one should." A look of defeat flickered across his face. "I destroy everything I touch."
"It's precisely because you understand such pain that you have the potential to inspire hope. You could help so many people, should you wish to." She suddenly reminded him of Vivian, who's continued optimism in him had always warmed his cold heart.
The Goddess's words played in his mind, the echo of ancient wisdom mingling with self-doubt. "But I'm no one special," he whispered, as if his very identity was being challenged. "I'm just Aleric—the assassin, the killer."
Aranya stepped closer, her presence warm and inviting. "Yet, it is within your scars that your true strength lies. Do not worry so much, there is no great evil for you to defeat, no world-ending calamity waiting to play the villain to your hero. Even if there were, Elyndor already has plenty of heroic types just waiting to save the world."
"Then, what's the point of me being a Chosen? Don't they usually have some grand quest to fulfill or something?" Aleric's eyes were full of disbelief and suspicion.
"Not necessarily. To be perfectly transparent, I'm excessively bored. There are quite a few restrictions when it comes to the interactions between deities and the mortal realm. And to my eternal dissatisfaction, people-watching is among those." The look on the Goddess's face would have made Aleric laugh if his mind hadn't been on more serious matters.
"What's that got to do with me? Are you seriously telling me that you're picking me as your Chosen, just to have a new reality show to watch?" Aleric replied, feeling a bit stunned by her response. He wondered if he should be offended.
"As deities, if we put too much of our attention in one place, we can cause irrevocable harm. Such are the laws of the multiverse. However, with our Chosen, some of those rules can be…bent a bit. I am the Goddess of Secrets, Aleric. People-watching is almost a required hobby." Aranya sighed, looking out into the darkness of her realm.
"Aleric, you deserve a second chance at life. A chance to be happy. To love, and be loved in return. I offer you this chance to live life as you choose, unbound from your previous shackles. Will you take it?" Her violet eyes turned back to him, awaiting his answer patiently.
Aleric just looked at her incredulously.
"You really think I deserve a second chance?"
The Goddess looked at him kindly, the expression on her face reminiscent of Vivian, the only source of motherly love he'd ever had.
"Of course you do, my little star."
But did he? With each breath he took, fragments of his past clawed at him—faces of the lives he had taken, cut short by his own hand. What right did he have to lead a new life, when he had taken so many?
Yet, within that tumultuous storm of grief and regret, a small ember flickered—the faintest whiff of hope, begging to be fanned.
"Why me?" he murmured ultimately, voice tinged with raw emotion. "There must be countless others who are far more deserving, whose hands aren't stained with so much blood."
"Perhaps," she replied, her tone soft. "But they'd probably be excessively boring. The chaste and virtuous ones usually are."
Aranya then took on a more serious tone. "If you choose to accept my offer, it means you acknowledge your past as part of your journey. It means you choose to break the cycle of despair and become something far more than just an instrument of death. You can live whatever kind of life you choose, Aleric, but... I sense greatness within you."
As uncertainty churned within him, he felt the weight of her divine presence, an unexpected promise that hope and redemption were within reach, even for a soul like his.
Aleric fought against the swell of emotions within him. He closed his eyes, feeling the cool chains against his skin, a tether to his past. "I don't know if I can be the kind of man that you believe I can be," he whispered, a vulnerability he seldom allowed himself to feel, let alone share.
"Sometimes, the only way to find out is to take that first step, even if it's hesitant," Aranya encouraged, her voice a soothing balm against the tempest of doubt within him.
Aleric contemplated the choice in front of him. Perhaps becoming this scary, yet immensely attractive, woman's Chosen wasn't just a fantasy reserved for the righteous—it could be a possibility for one who bore the weight of darkness. If he must face his demons, both internal and external, maybe he owed it to himself and those like him that he left behind, to embrace this second chance with both hands.
Tentatively, he opened his eyes, anchored by the resolute presence before him. "So… what's the first step? How do we do this?"
Her smile brightened the room—quite the achievement in this realm of shadows. "You embrace your journey, Aleric, beginning with your chains. You must face the echoes of your past first."
At that moment, Aleric understood that his choice loomed before him, swathed in uncertainty yet illuminated by the faintest glimmer of possibility. He took a breath, feeling the chains relax—at least for now. Maybe, in this second life, he could become something other than what he had always been.
Aleric inhaled deeply, a quiet resolve forming in the spaces of his uncertainty. The weight of Aranya's gaze felt both encouraging and daunting.
"Alright," he said, voice steadier. "Let's do this."
With his tentative resolution, he felt the first stirrings of hope, fragile but undeniably present, like the first rays of dawn breaking through a stormy night.
"Embrace my past as just part of my journey, huh?" he echoed, the words feeling foreign on his tongue, like a whisper made real.
Would that be enough? His mind whirled with doubts, but something inside him flickered—a tiny spark of courage, hidden beneath layers of fear.
Aleric suddenly felt the chains break apart as if the universe itself acknowledged his tentative leap. Maybe, just maybe, the path to redemption could begin with this small, uncertain choice.