Chapter 31: A Hero’s Sacrifice

313 0 0

A Hero’s Sacrifice

The battlefield was quiet now, the dragon's twisted form lying lifeless in the scorched clearing. The corrupted beast, once a symbol of destruction and fury, was reduced to a grotesque husk of what it had once been. But the victory felt hollow. The price they had paid for this triumph was far too great.

Faelar lay crumpled on the ground, his body broken from the dragon’s final, vengeful strike. The group had gathered around him, their faces pale and streaked with dirt and blood, their expressions torn between disbelief and despair. Time seemed to slow, the weight of the moment pressing down on them like a heavy shroud.

Archer was the first to kneel beside Faelar, her heart pounding in her chest as she cradled his head in her lap. Her hands shook as she pressed them against his wounds, but she knew—deep down—that it was too late. The dragon’s tail had struck him with a force too great for any healer’s hands to mend. Faelar’s breaths came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling with an agonizing slowness.

“Faelar…” Archer’s voice broke, her tears falling freely onto his bloodstained face. “Hold on. Please. We’ll get you out of here. Just hold on.”

Selene knelt beside her, her fierce expression now gone, replaced by a hollow look of disbelief. “He’s going to be alright, right?” she asked, her voice trembling as she looked between Archer and Lysander. “Tell me he’s going to be alright.”

But Lysander stood back, his face ashen. His hands hung limp at his sides, fingers twitching as if trying to summon magic that wasn’t there. His powers were spent, and his mind, usually so sharp and filled with solutions, was blank. He shook his head, unable to speak the words that Selene needed to hear.

“I don’t have anything left,” Lysander finally whispered, his voice thick with regret. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“No…” Selene’s voice was filled with a desperation she could no longer suppress. “No, there has to be something. You can’t—he can’t—”

Branwen, her face streaked with tears, knelt beside Faelar, her hands gently touching his chest, her connection to the natural world telling her what she didn’t want to accept. She could feel it—his spirit was slipping away, like a leaf drifting from the highest branch, carried off by the wind. “He’s fading,” she said softly, her voice barely audible. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Archer clenched Faelar’s hand tightly, her tears falling onto his silver hair. “No, don’t say that,” she whispered. “We can’t lose you. Not now. We need you. I need you.”

Faelar’s eyes fluttered open, the pale green irises, once so full of life and light, now dimmed by the pain and exhaustion of his injuries. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he looked up at Archer. His voice, weak and ragged, barely escaped his lips. “You… don’t need me anymore,” he whispered, his breath hitching as he struggled to speak. “You’ll be fine… without me.”

Archer shook her head, refusing to accept his words. “Don’t say that,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “We need you, Faelar. I can’t do this without you.”

“You can,” Faelar said softly, his hand trembling as he reached up to brush a tear from Archer’s cheek. “You always could… Archer.”

Selene, her usual defiance crumbling in the face of her grief, knelt closer. Her hands shook as she gently touched Faelar’s shoulder. “Why did you do it?” she asked, her voice choked with emotion. “Why did you—”

“I had to,” Faelar interrupted, his voice barely a breath. “It’s… what had to be done. The land… needed me. It needed all of us.”

Lysander finally stepped forward, his heart heavy with guilt and grief. His mind raced with thoughts of what he could have done differently—how he should have found a way to save his friend. “I should have stopped this,” he said quietly, his voice thick with self-reproach. “I should have found another way. I’m so sorry, Faelar. I failed you.”

Faelar shook his head ever so slightly, though the effort clearly caused him pain. “No one… could have done more,” he whispered. “You all… fought with everything. That’s all… anyone can do.”

His gaze drifted back to Archer, and his smile, though faint, held warmth. “You have to… keep going,” he whispered, his voice growing weaker with every breath. “Finish this… for Valandor.”

Archer’s tears fell freely as she held Faelar close. Her heart ached with a sorrow so deep it threatened to consume her, but she couldn’t look away from his face. “We will,” she promised, her voice breaking. “We’ll finish it. For you. I swear.”

Branwen placed her hand over Faelar’s chest, feeling the last flickers of life within him. Her voice was soft, but steady. “We’ll honor you,” she said quietly. “You’ll be with the land, Faelar, just as you’ve always been. And we’ll make sure your sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”

Faelar’s breathing grew slower, his chest barely rising and falling now. He looked to each of his comrades, his eyes filled with peace and acceptance. “You’re all… stronger than you know,” he murmured, his voice fading to a whisper. “You’ll save Valandor. I believe in you.”

Selene’s tears fell as she gently squeezed his hand. “I’m going to miss you,” she said, her voice thick with grief. “But we’ll make them pay, Faelar. For you.”

With a final, shuddering breath, Faelar’s eyes closed, and his hand went limp in Archer’s grasp.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Archer held Faelar close, her body trembling with sobs as the reality of his death settled over her. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Selene turned away, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand, but the emotion was too overwhelming to hide. Her body shook with grief, and she muttered a string of curses under her breath, trying to contain the anguish that tore at her insides.

Lysander stood frozen, his mind reeling with guilt. He had failed. That was all he could think. He had failed his friend, and now Faelar was gone. His hands, usually so sure and steady, now trembled uncontrollably, and he could barely bring himself to look at Faelar’s still body.

Branwen’s heart ached with sorrow as she knelt beside Faelar, her hand resting gently over his heart. She whispered a soft prayer to the spirits of the forest, asking them to watch over him in the afterlife. The wind seemed to stir in response, as if the very land itself was mourning the loss of its protector.

For a long moment, the group remained in silence, their grief hanging over them like a heavy cloud. The battlefield, once filled with the sounds of battle and fury, was now eerily still. The dragon’s twisted corpse lay nearby, its corruption having been purged by Faelar’s sacrifice, but the victory felt hollow.

Archer gently laid Faelar’s head on the ground, her fingers brushing through his hair one last time. “We’ll finish this,” she whispered, her voice filled with sorrow and determination. “We’ll save Valandor. For you.”

The others nodded in silent agreement, each of them grappling with the weight of their loss. Faelar’s death had shaken them to their core, but it had also strengthened their resolve. They would carry his memory with them, and they would finish what he had started.

Branwen rose to her feet, her voice soft but steady. “We should… honor him. He would have wanted to be returned to the land.”

Archer nodded, though the motion felt mechanical, her mind still lost in grief. “He was always a part of the land,” she whispered. “Even in death, he belongs to it.”

The group worked in silence, gathering wildflowers from the edges of the battlefield and placing them gently around Faelar’s body. Each movement was slow and deliberate, a small act of reverence for the friend they had lost. Branwen knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she whispered one last prayer, asking the spirits to guide Faelar’s soul to the next life.

Lysander, still struggling with his guilt, stepped forward and knelt beside Faelar’s body. He placed a hand on his chest, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll make sure we finish this. I promise.”

Selene, her tears still falling, stood beside Archer, her voice a quiet murmur. “He was a hero. He deserves more than this.”

Archer wiped at her face, her heart aching with the weight of their loss. “He was more than a hero,” she whispered. “He was our friend. And we’ll make sure his sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”

As the group stood together, united in their grief, the wind around them seemed to still, the earth itself mourning the loss of Faelar Moonshadow. The sky above

them was dark, the last vestiges of the battle’s fury hanging in the air like a storm that had yet to pass.

But Faelar’s memory would guide them. His spirit, forever tied to the land he had loved and fought for, would live on in their hearts as they pressed forward. And though the battle was far from over, they knew that they would carry his strength with them, no matter what lay ahead.

For Faelar. For Valandor.

Aftermath of the Roar

The air was still, a thick silence settling over the battlefield where Faelar had drawn his last breath. Archer remained kneeling by his side, her hand resting gently on his chest as if the touch could somehow anchor her to the moment, to the friend she had just lost. Her tears had stopped, but the grief in her heart felt like a weight too heavy to bear. Around her, the others stood in a solemn circle, each of them locked in their own battle with the reality of Faelar’s death.

For a long while, no one spoke. The weight of their loss settled over them like a heavy fog, and the world itself seemed to mourn with them. The wind, once howling with the fury of the battle, had quieted to a soft, mournful whisper. Even the trees, twisted and blackened by the corruption, stood still, as if paying their respects to the fallen ranger.

Branwen was the first to move, her eyes red and swollen from tears she hadn’t even realized she’d shed. She knelt beside Faelar, her hand brushing the flowers that surrounded his body. The connection she shared with the natural world had always been strong, but now it felt as though something had been severed, a vital thread that linked her to the land. “We need to give him back to the earth,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Faelar wouldn’t want to be left here, in this place of death and corruption.”

Archer nodded, though her eyes never left Faelar’s peaceful face. It felt impossible to let him go, to accept that he was truly gone. “You’re right,” she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. “He deserves better than this.”

Selene, who had been standing with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face a mask of barely-contained grief, finally spoke. “We’ll honor him,” she said, her voice trembling. “He was the best of us. And he gave everything so we could finish this.”

Lysander stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Faelar’s still form. The guilt he carried was palpable, weighing down every step. He knelt beside Archer, pulling a small vial from his satchel. Inside, the liquid shimmered with a faint, ethereal glow. “This is Aether’s Grace,” he explained, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s meant to grant peace to the souls of the departed, to guide them to the next life.”

Archer swallowed hard, nodding as Lysander uncorked the vial and carefully poured a few drops onto Faelar’s forehead. The liquid spread across his skin, leaving a soft, glowing mark in its wake. The sight of it brought a strange sense of peace, though it did nothing to ease the ache in Archer’s chest.

As the glow faded, Branwen gathered the flowers she had picked from the edge of the clearing and began placing them gently around Faelar’s body. Her movements were slow and deliberate, each flower a quiet tribute to the friend they had lost. “Spirits of the forest,” she murmured, her voice trembling with the weight of her sorrow. “Take him into your embrace. Let him find peace in the land he loved.”

The group watched in silence as Branwen completed the ritual, her hands trembling as she placed the last flower by Faelar’s head. The clearing was filled with an eerie stillness, as if the land itself had paused to pay its respects.

For a long moment, no one spoke. The loss they had suffered was too great, the grief too raw. But in that silence, something shifted—a shared understanding, a silent vow that Faelar’s sacrifice would not be in vain.

Archer was the first to break the stillness. Her voice, though hoarse from emotion, was steady. “He believed in us,” she said, her gaze sweeping over the group. “He gave his life so we could finish this. We owe it to him—and to Valandor—to see this through.”

Selene wiped at her eyes, her grief still sharp, but tempered now by a fierce determination. “We’ll make them pay,” she muttered, her voice low and filled with resolve. “For him. For everything they’ve taken from us.”

Lysander, his guilt still heavy but now tempered by purpose, nodded. “We carry him with us,” he said quietly. “Every step of the way.”

Branwen, still kneeling beside Faelar’s body, lifted her head and spoke, her voice steady despite the tears that glistened in her eyes. “We honor him by finishing what we started. That’s what Faelar would have wanted. He gave his life so we could continue. We can’t let his sacrifice be in vain.”

Archer stood, her heart heavy but her resolve firming. She had always led them, but now she felt the weight of that responsibility more than ever. Faelar had believed in her, even in his final moments. She couldn’t let him down.

“We will finish this,” Archer said, her voice filled with quiet determination. “For Faelar. For Valandor.”

Selene stood as well, wiping at her eyes one last time. Her grief had not lessened, but it had transformed into something sharper—a determination to see their mission through to the end. “We’ll make sure this means something,” she muttered, her fists clenched. “For him.”

Lysander placed a hand on Archer’s shoulder, his guilt still present but tempered by a newfound resolve. “We carry his spirit with us,” he said quietly. “We’ll see this through.”

Archer nodded, her eyes fixed on Faelar’s peaceful expression. His sacrifice would not be forgotten, nor would it be wasted. They would honor him, not just with words, but with actions.

Branwen rose to her feet, her hands still trembling slightly. “We should move soon,” she said softly, though the words felt almost sacrilegious in the silence that followed. “The corruption hasn’t fully retreated from these lands. We need to finish what we started.”

Archer took a deep breath, steadying herself for what lay ahead. “Gather what you can,” she ordered, her voice steady now, though her heart still ached. “We have a long road ahead, and we’re not done yet.”

The group moved with a quiet efficiency, their grief still raw but their determination renewed. Selene checked their weapons, her fingers lingering on Faelar’s bow, the one he had carried through so many battles. She strapped it to her back, a silent promise to carry his spirit with them every step of the way.

Lysander packed the remaining supplies, his mind racing with thoughts of the challenges that still lay ahead. He would honor Faelar’s memory by using every ounce of his knowledge and magic to see their mission through to the end.

Branwen, her connection to the natural world stronger than ever in the wake of Faelar’s death, felt the weight of the land’s suffering more keenly now. But she also felt its hope, a faint but growing presence beneath the corruption. Faelar’s sacrifice had made a difference, and she would ensure that it wasn’t in vain.

When they were ready, Archer knelt one last time beside Faelar’s body, her hand resting gently on his chest. “We’ll finish this,” she whispered, her voice filled with quiet, unshakable resolve. “For you.”

As they turned to leave, the clearing fell into a deep stillness, the weight of Faelar’s sacrifice heavy in the air. The dragon’s corpse lay twisted and broken nearby, a reminder of the battle they had fought and won. But the real victory would come when Valandor was free from the corruption that had taken so much from them.

With their weapons and supplies gathered, the group turned away from the battlefield, their hearts heavy but their spirits unbroken. Faelar’s memory burned brightly in each of them, a beacon that would guide them through the darkness that still lay ahead.

As they walked, the first light of dawn began to break through the clouds, casting a soft, golden glow over the landscape. It was a new day, a new beginning. And though their grief still clung to them, they knew they had to keep moving. The fight wasn’t over.

And Faelar would be with them, in every step, in every battle, until the corruption was finally defeated.

For Faelar. For Valandor.

Renewed Resolve

The morning sun crept over the horizon, casting long shadows across the clearing. The first rays of light broke through the twisted remnants of trees, bathing the battlefield in a soft, golden glow. Despite the carnage and destruction that still littered the ground—the charred remains of trees, the scorched earth, and the lifeless body of the dragon—there was a sense of renewal in the air, as though the light was trying to chase away the darkness that had held them for so long.

Archer stood at the edge of the clearing, staring out at the horizon. Her heart was heavy with the loss of Faelar, but in the light of the new day, she felt something shift within her. The weight of grief was still there, pressing down on her chest, but it was no longer suffocating. It had become a part of her, like an old scar—something she would carry with her, but not something that would stop her.

“We’ll finish this,” she whispered, her eyes narrowing with determination. She could feel Faelar’s presence with her, his spirit woven into the land he had loved so much. It gave her strength.

Behind her, the others were making their final preparations to leave. Selene, her face still streaked with dirt and the remnants of tears, stood by Faelar’s bow, carefully strapping it across her back. There was a fierce look in her eyes, one that spoke of vengeance and an unwavering will to carry on Faelar’s legacy.

“We’ll make them pay,” Selene muttered to herself as she tightened the straps, her fingers lingering on the worn wood of the bow. “For every life they’ve destroyed. For Faelar.”

Lysander, his hands shaking slightly as he packed the last of their supplies, glanced at her. His guilt was still fresh, but he had come to realize that dwelling on what he couldn’t change would only weaken them further. He would honor Faelar by using his magic to its fullest, making sure they would never face such a loss again.

Branwen, meanwhile, stood by Faelar’s resting place, her eyes closed as she whispered a final prayer to the spirits of the forest. She could still feel the pulse of life beneath her feet, though it was weak, barely holding on against the corruption that continued to spread through the land. Faelar’s sacrifice had given them a chance to heal Valandor, but she knew their journey was far from over.

When she opened her eyes, she turned to Archer, her gaze steady. “We need to move soon,” she said softly, though her voice was firm. “The corruption is still strong, and we’ve lost too much time already.”

Archer nodded, her hand gripping the hilt of her sword tightly. “I know,” she replied, her voice steady despite the grief that still weighed heavily on her. “We’re not done yet.”

The group gathered at the edge of the clearing, each of them quiet as they prepared to set off. The weight of Faelar’s death hung over them like a shadow, but it no longer crushed them. Instead, it had become a driving force, pushing them forward with a renewed sense of purpose.

As they started to leave, Archer took one last glance at the place where Faelar’s body lay, surrounded by the wildflowers Branwen had gathered. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the grief wash over her once more before pushing it down, locking it away in the deepest parts of her heart.

“We’ll finish this,” she whispered again, her voice barely audible. “For you.”

The journey ahead was long and fraught with danger, but they were ready. They had faced impossible odds before, and though Faelar was no longer with them in body, his spirit would guide them. His sacrifice had given them the strength they needed to push forward, to continue the fight against the corruption that had taken so much from them.

As they began their trek, the landscape around them shifted from the devastated remnants of the battlefield to the scorched path ahead. The twisted trees, blackened and charred, seemed to loom over them, as if the corruption had claimed the land itself. The once-vibrant forest of Valandor was now a hollow shell, its heart ripped out by the dark forces they had been battling for so long.

But despite the desolation, there was a glimmer of hope in the distance. The sky above was beginning to clear, the clouds that had hung heavy with the storm of battle now drifting apart, letting slivers of sunlight break through. It was a reminder that there was still something worth fighting for.

“We need to find the next Nexus,” Lysander said, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, but there was an urgency beneath it, a sense that they couldn’t afford to waste any more time. “The corruption is spreading faster than I anticipated. If we don’t act soon, the damage may become irreversible.”

Archer nodded, though her gaze remained fixed on the path ahead. “We will,” she replied firmly. “But we need to be smart about this. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

The group continued in silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts. Faelar’s absence was unmistakable, like a missing limb, but they carried him with them in spirit. His bow now rested on Selene’s back, a symbol of the sacrifice he had made, and a reminder of what they were fighting for.

“We’ll need to stay alert,” Branwen said, her voice breaking the quiet. “The corruption won’t stop just because we killed the dragon. There will be more dangers ahead.”

Selene grunted in agreement, her hand resting on the hilt of her cutlass. “Let them come,” she muttered, her voice filled with a quiet rage. “I’m ready.”

They walked for what felt like hours, the landscape shifting around them as they moved deeper into the corrupted forest. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and the ground beneath their feet was uneven, riddled with cracks and patches of scorched earth. Every now and then, a faint breeze would carry the scent of burning wood, a reminder of the battle they had just fought.

As they traveled, Archer couldn’t help but reflect on the journey they had taken so far. They had come so close to failure, so close to losing everything. But Faelar’s sacrifice had given them a second chance, and she would make sure they didn’t waste it. Her mind was filled with memories of him—his quiet strength, his unwavering dedication to the land, the way he had always known exactly what to say in even the darkest moments.

“We’re close,” Lysander said, his voice breaking through Archer’s thoughts. He had stopped at the edge of a ridge, staring out at the valley below. “The next Nexus is down there.”

Archer joined him, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the valley. The corruption was thick here, even worse than what they had faced before. The ground was blackened and twisted, and the air seemed to shimmer with a dark, unnatural energy. But beyond the valley, she could see it—the faint glow of the Nexus stone, pulsing with a dim light.

“This is it,” she said, her voice low but filled with determination. “The next step. We’re not stopping here.”

The group gathered at the edge of the ridge, their eyes fixed on the valley below. The task ahead was daunting, but they were ready. They had to be. Faelar had given his life for this moment, and they would not let his sacrifice be in vain.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the valley, Archer took a deep breath and drew her sword. The weight of the weapon in her hand felt familiar, comforting, and she knew that they would finish this—no matter the cost.

“Let’s move,” she said, her voice steady. “For Faelar.”

The group descended the ridge, their hearts heavy with loss but their resolve stronger than ever. The path ahead was dangerous, filled with enemies they hadn’t yet faced and trials they hadn’t yet imagined. But together, they would overcome it. They had to.

For Valandor. For the future. For Faelar.

Shadows of Valandor

Table of Contents

In the world of Valandor

Chapter 31: A Hero’s Sacrifice

A Hero’s Sacrifice

Aftermath of the Roar

Renewed Resolve

Support MustBTV's efforts!

Find your way!

Resources

WHO WE ARE

LEGAL

Get the news

Listen to our Podcast

Our Allies