Fate was gone. She was a goddess, powerful enough to create worlds, yet I knew in my heart it was true. Her death shattered me, sending shockwaves through my soul. A crippling sense of loneliness hollow me out, like someone had torn away the bits that made me who I was and gave me purpose.
The church had stripped my title and status, but they were helpless against my Divine Calling. Heroes had intrinsic resistance and talents, a sort of confidence and charisma that inspired others to follow. And now that special divine blessing, an essential element of inner strength that sustained me through the darkness, was gone.
Aurle was dead, too, the most recent of those hurt because they chose to stand by my side: murdered by the monster standing before me, his arms crossed, glaring holes through me.
"Answer me," he growled. "Where did you get that staff?"
