A Thousand Faces: The Villain's Journey

0: The Demon King

The Demon King thrust his hand in the air. Above him, a swirling mass of white and red flames sucked inward to reform into a ball of blinding light.

We stared up at him, on guard against his final attack.

"Behold!" the Demon King bellowed. "The manifestation of the final sins of man!" He gripped his fist, and the swirling mass pulsed red. "Collapsing Star! Event Horizon!"

The world around us rattled. Bits of debris floated up and toward the sphere, breaking apart into dust to further feed the spell's power.

"Get behind me!" the knight yelled.

We did so. Wings of light erupted from behind the knight, shepherding us against the scorching heat.

Above, the Demon King roared in laughter. The world darkened, the sky behind void of light now a smattering of stars and constellations and plumes of distant multicolored gas. The sphere grew larger, brighter, flaring.

It was the birth of a sun!

We grunted against the force, struggling.

"Stella Ultima!" cast the healer. A prismatic array of magic barriers shot out ahead of the knight, further carving through the sunburst flares. It was already cracking and shattering on its edges. "I'm almost out of mana," she shouted. "Do something!

"I'm working on it," I said. My staff was pointed at the center of that growing sun. My own mana was running dry, and as I channeled the spell, I felt the last of my power drain from me.

"Hurry," the knight snapped. His shield was ablating against the solar winds.

The archer nocked the Holy Javelin, a long rod of pristine white. This would be our only chance. "Ready when you are," she told me.

I felt the inner click of the spell finishing, and I grinned. "Stella Mortis!"

The birthing star calmed, pulsed once, twice, then erupted into a dazzling smattering of sparks and trailing lines of flame. The entirety of its surface bubbled out in explosions, and the Demon King thrust up both hands to channel his own protective shield.

He was blocking it!

The world roared, the world trembled, the world was breaking apart!

"Now," I yelled.

The archer let slip the Holy Javelin.

The Demon King split his shield to halt it.

It shattered the shield.

And shot right through him.

The javelin tore the darkness asunder, and the scorching blue skies shone down on us. Above, the Demon King fell, his body misting away into ash, his desperate gurgles reaching for that last breath, and he shattered into dust.

The world settled.

The blackened plains faded to green, pale, bright. Purples and blues and whites of flowers peeking beneath to reach out for the shining sun.

The familiar winds came, a welcome breeze against the sweat of my brow, and shook gently the treetops of the nearby forest.

We, the Heroes, stood alone in a newfound meadow, exhausted from the final battle, armor torn and shredded and scorched, bruised and cut and bleeding, but alive.

"Why are we still alive?" I said. "Weren't we supposed to die just then?"

The others looked themselves over, fascinated.

"We... killed him, right?" asked the knight.

We glanced around at the rolling plains and distant mountains and peaceful forests. There was no hint of evil. "Pretty sure, yeah," I said.

The archer pursed her lips in thought. "Maybe the curse of the Demon Stone was lifted."

"No," said the healer. "It yet remains." She stared deep into her open palm, studying herself. "But our fated deaths at the final battle seem not to have taken effect."

I took a deep breath of the crisp spring air. "So... now what?"

"I didn't think this far ahead," said the knight.

"The people will assume we've died," said the archer.

"And if we return as the victors, what would the world think of us and our sacrifices?" asked the healer.

I scratched the back of my neck. I was covered in dried blood and dirt. "I have an idea. You guys think about it, and I'm gonna go home and take a nap."

There was silence. The healer chuckled and broke into a full belly laugh. It was contagious.

And together we laughed, smiled, and savored our hard-earned peace.