The woman watched the silhouette as it remained still on the throne.
“Who were you, once upon a time?”
The shadow laughed, a sharp, short sound that echoed like heartbreak.
“Who was I? It is right you should ask, for I am just a shadow of my former self. I used to be a hero, welcomed by the crowds, heralded in the cities. Now I am a villain, the monster parents tell their children about. Tell me, how many horror stories have come from my actions?”
“None.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Those aren’t horror stories. Those are the twisted versions of true events.” The woman paused. “I don’t think that you intended for any of it to happen.”
“And what would you know? You are the ‘Chosen One’, the answer to everyone’s problems. You might as well get it over with and just kill me now. I’m sure you’ll get honored just as much if I’m dead.”
She shrugged. “Nothing would happen.”
“You are taking me for a fool.”
“No, I’m telling the truth. I’m not the ‘Chosen One’, as you put it. That title belonged to my brother.”
The shadow leaned backwards. “Then how did you come by it?”
“The people expected me to take my brother’s place after he refused to obey the Elders. They all had hoped that he would return, but they soon became desperate.”
“Apparently.”
She snorted. “Please. It’s not like you are any more talented than me in magic. It's been years since you practiced anything other than defense.”
“You’re right. I have been lax since my exile.”
Silence held the room for a moment before she spoke. “You never told me who you used to be.”
The shadow sighed. “You will not give this up, will you?”
“The longer I’m here, the less chance there’ll actually be people waiting for me when I come out.”
“I was called a hero of the Golden Age before everything came crashing down. I was skilled in shields and defense, not so much healing. And yet I was named a healer for the court of Srarc, though the Elders knew that wasn’t my strongest attribute.”
She scrutinized him. “Go on.”
“I believe you know who I am.”
She nodded slowly. “I know what you are called.”
“Tell me, what is my name, then?”
“Egeon. Known as a great warrior, before he walked away from a village filled with sickness.”
The shadow laughed, even more bitterly. “That is the story they tell.”
“And the story that most believe.”
“What do the people call you?”
“Silverclar.” She lifted her sword. “After the metal magic that made this.”
“Not from deeds that you’ve done?”
“I’m the replacement hero. Nothing I do is to my credit.”
“What is your real name?”
“Pamar.” She shrugged. “I’m called by the title so much that most people have forgotten that I have a name. You, unfortunately, are remembered by your real name.”
“Yes. But is it better to be remembered as someone else or as yourself when you make a mistake?”
“I was not given a choice.”
“Neither was I.” The shadow motioned the woman forward. “You had better kill me then. The people are expecting you to defeat me.”
“What if I didn’t do what the people are expecting? What if I went out there and told the truth about what happened to you?”
“You would be cast away and never spoken of except as an example of what not to do.”
“Is that better than living a lie?”
The shadow stared at her. “I don’t think you realize what being a pariah means.”
“Then why don’t you show me?”
The shadow thought, waved his hand, the torches blazing to life. Pamar squinched her eyes at the sudden brightness, but held still, even as he spoke.
“Look upon me and see what people’s opinions can do.” A raised section of flesh on his right cheek marred his face, the rest of the skin still kept handsome and young by the magic in his veins. “This is what an angry person will do.”
She smiled. “You think I don’t understand?” She watched him as she left her magic fall. “This is what my brother ran from. He couldn’t stand the fact that he hurt me and so he ran from the consequences, leaving me to fill his place.” Her scar, placed almost the same as his, burned silver in the light. “He used this sword to cleave a hole in my face. I’m forced to hide it as the Elders believe it shows I’m weak.”
“You are nothing of the sort.”
“And you aren’t a monster.”
Silence reigned over the dark throne room.
“We aren’t so different, you and I. Each scarred by the ones we trusted, each placed on a pedestal too high for anyone to reach. And let me tell you, it's a long way to fall.” She twirled her sword in her hand.
“What do you wish to do about it? Scream to the world you’re not a hero any longer and that you reject your role?”
“No. I wish to go out there and show them I’m not the little meek hero puppet that they created. I have power, yes, and I have a responsibility to use it. But I will not be under those old fools’ control any longer.” She looked up at him. "Your past actions are what made me realize their intent."
“So you want to join me?”
“I'm here to rescue you from yourself and invite you to join me in showing that these high expectations are unacceptable. You can’t force people to be a hero, just as you can’t force them to be the villain.”
“You speak with wisdom.”
“And I know you’re smart enough to listen.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
She waited patiently for his decision.
“I only ask that you keep your sword.” He pulled his out. "No use in losing a good weapon."
“I'll do you one better. We both hate our swords and the memories they represent. How about we trade? They are the same make and style, only differing in the material. This way, we can show that it is not the weapon that makes the person.”
“You are taking a monumental risk in doing this."
“What have I got to lose? The good opinion of people I can’t and won’t ever respect?”
He stood. “What am I to call myself?”
“Whatever you wish.”
“Fortino.”
She nodded. “That’s a good name.”
“And what will you call yourself?”
“Cadrina.”
He smiled. “Good.”
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