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Who was she?
She was nobody.
The only detail from her past that anyone needed to know was her name: Audrey Redheart. The sole vestige of a past life. The rest was completely irrelevant.
Or, rather, forgettable. Insignificant. Invisible. Not worth paying attention to. Everyone else had made that much clear to her. She was no one even worth mentioning, or recalling. There was nothing to her at all, just part of the background, you’d completely miss her if she didn’t make herself stand out.
But why would she? There was nothing outstanding, interesting, or noteworthy to her. A boring, dull, mundane girl, from head to toe. Not a speck of uniqueness or importance to her. She was nothing more than just another person.
She existed in loneliness, watching the lives of others unfold into compelling stories, amazing tales, wonderful songs, while she remained static, unappealing, and powerless. Destined for forgetfulness, to be not even appealing enough for a second look at her.
Every night, she went to sleep and dreamt of what it’d be like to have an adventure, to change some life, to have an impact, to play some kind of role in the grander scheme of things. It was her escapism, her only fantasy, the only thing worth pursuing, however impossible.
And every day she’d wake up to the same immovable reality. Glimpses of much better, greater lives passed her by, a temporary glimpse of all she wished for. Just as quickly as these specks of excitement arrived, they vanished, without a look back.
She was left with the bitter taste of jealousy, of spite, and pessimism. She’d swallow this ugly truth time and time again, because there was no alternative. She was a fool to believe otherwise. She knew she’d been condemned to never have a choice. To never matter to the world.
Her fate was sealed.
But it seemed the universe had been patiently waiting to interject.
This was no ordinary dream. Everything was sharply defined in her eyes, too clearly resonant in her ears, too solid and tangible in her hands and beneath her feet. An uneasy bubbled feeling in her heart, and her brain felt ready to fight some vague, looming threat, even if she could not perceive anything immediately dangerous.
This dreamscape was not putting her at ease either. She stood on an endless plane, a dark purple-blue marble extending infinitely. Endless pink clouds, some remaining utterly still, some in the distance shifting violently and menacingly. A rain of falling stars, eerily silent as they faded into the fog of the horizon, as if they were gently gliding towards some kind of oblivion.
It took her a few minutes to notice her own wardrobe, looking just as fantastical to her eyes as this strange world she was in. Her plain, unassuming clothes had been replaced by a colorful, flashy outfit. Bright, confident colors. Firm, empowering, well-fitting shirt, pants, boots, belt, gloves. A flowing, lengthy, eye-catching scarf was around her neck, comfortable and reassuring. It seemed to be slowly swaying in the air, even without wind.
She looked like... a hero.
At first, she could not believe this was happening. Not because it was clearly a dream, a figment of fantasy… but because not even in her most outlandish flights of fancy could her mind create a scene so gorgeous and so flattering. She didn’t dare dream with such hope. This was too perfect, too inspiring, too wonderful to still be her own mind.
Confused and lost, she nonetheless explored this realm, slowly climbing the rising ground and ledges in front of her. The formation seemed to pierce the clouds, yet there was something glowing behind. Curious, yet still on edge, she continued her ascent. The clouds were much closer to the ground than she imagined, and yet found her vision unimpeded as she entered them.
Before long, she reached the summit. She stood upon an island of blue-purple rock amidst a sea of swirling, twisting, swimming clouds. In the very center, hovering and covered in a soft glow coming from the ground itself, an immaculately polished and impossibly smooth sword awaited.
She walked towards it slowly, admiring the unnatural sharpness of the edge, before she caught a reflection of a face in the blade.
The face looked strong, confident, determined… heroic.
Who was that?
She knew the answer, but wasn’t quite ready to accept it yet. As the face in the sword matched her every facial moment, every expression of hers, the realisation dawned on her. In disbelief, she brought her hands to her face. Through the gloves, she gently patted her cheeks, her hair, her lips. The face in the sword looked back at her, perfectly imitating every action.
Was this… her?
It had to be. But it couldn’t be. Where was the tired face, those eyes of despair, those perpetually flattened lips, that unkempt hair? She didn’t really recognise herself in the blade. She felt like she’d invaded and inhabited some other body, the body of someone mighty and capable. Who was this person whose eyes she was seeing through?
She lost track of how much time she spent just staring at herself - or whoever this was - in the blade. Eventually she snapped out of it and thought about her situation. She’d still not woken up, even after all this time. She looked around. There was nothing else in here. No other peak or structure poked through the ocean of clouds, a solitary island in this infinite plane, for no reason than to present the sword.
The only logical thing left to do was to take the sword.
She stared at her glove. She wondered if it was hiding her worn fingernails, the scabs surrounding them, her dirtied skin… or if like everything else, it’d been erased and replaced with something far more attractive and envious. She didn’t feel like taking it off to find out; the answer would likely only unnerve her further, increase the feeling of alienation she was feeling toward herself.
Her hand approached the hilt. Even through the glove, she could feel a mysterious energy coming from the weapon, sending a tingling sensation running down her skin and muscles. This had to be infused with potent magic. Would it instantly vaporise her if she touched it?
She supposed she should’ve been scared of the possibility, but she felt no fear. Only curiosity. Whatever was happening, it was strange, and she wanted to see what would happen next. She’d only regret not doing this.
She confidently grabbed the hilt of the sword. Immediately she felt magic rushing through her entire body, flooding her senses and muscles with mysterious energy. A surge of power coursed through her entire being, lungs and skin and neurons pulsating alongside the sword. But she never let go of it. Her body screamed at her to release it, but her will remained stronger.
Gradually, the feeling subsided. The mild pain and the headache vanished over many glacial seconds. Her tightly shut eyes slowly opened again, and saw her hand still gripping the sword, as she slowly regained sensation on her fingers. Uncomfortable from her crouched posture from enduring the magical effects, she straightened herself up, and held the sword high in the air.
There was power contained in this. She could feel it as the power flowed through her as well.
There was something new in her mind: An instinct that wasn’t there before, now as clear and familiar as second nature. She didn’t know how it was possible, but she decided to trust it.
She swung the sword with professional mastery. Slashes, cuts, lunges, and poses all came from her with flawless execution and impeccable form. She had never held a sword in her life before this. Enviously eyed in the sheaths of passing adventurers, admired from afar, but not once did she ever touch such a weapon.
It didn’t matter. Closing her eyes and concentrating, she knew what to do. Her will was perfectly realised by her body, by the knowledge that the sword imparted upon her. Through the perfectly crafted weapon, excellently balanced, she had become an incredible swordswoman, capable of performing any feat she could imagine.
The joy was interrupted when everything grew darker. A humongous, ominous figure towered over her. Chrome-like rainbows covered it, as a single, menacing eye glowed in her direction. A muffled wail resonated throughout this mysterious plane of existence.
Audrey clasped the hilt of the sword in her hands as she stared at the presence, judging her wordlessly, almost waiting to see what she’d do.
She could see sparks of lightning flashing up and down the blade. A tingling sensation manifested in her arm, the kind that she’d sometimes get during a thunderstorm, in anticipation of the clouds striking the earth. An idea emerging from the depths of her mind, she stood tall and determined.
She pictured thunder and lightning, a searing bolt, a concentration of energy, and then, she pointed the sword towards the heavens.
A blinding flash. A deafening roar. An overwhelming wave of power.
Several seconds passed before Audrey dared to open her eyes again. The looming, enormous spirit that once stared at her from above, was now a merely a human-sized floating entity in front of her. Rainbow hair that constantly moved about, much like her own scarf did, endlessly shifted hues. A subtle smile appeared on its glowing form.
“Wow! That was really cool!”
That felt extremely anti-climatic to Audrey. Here she thought she was defeating a horrible, cursed spirit, but now it was cheering her on in much-less impressive proportions. Even the scenery had changed. Everything was now brighter, and infused with a wider range of hues, losing a lot of its dramatic undertones.
“Audrey, do you know what this means?”
She was taken aback. How did it know her name? Hardly anyone had bothered to even remember it, how did this… whatever this was, know it?
“Audrey, you’re The Hero!”
Audrey could only blink in confusion, a blank expression on her face, incredulously staring at this rainbow spirit. She kept a smile on its face, but it slowly retracted as the seconds went by as Audrey remained motionless, unable to accept those words, going over them over and over again, struggling to reconcile them with her own thoughts.
“Okay, so, this is probs a bit sudden and all. Sorry, I know it’s a bit weird and stuff.” Yet another awkward silence. Audrey hadn’t yet taken a step or said a word, so it was taken as permission to continue. “First things first: hiya! I’m Eyala, messenger of the goddess Eya.”
Eya… the goddess. She remembered the tales she heard, the myths shared, the songs the choirs chanted at full volume, imparting her with accounts of how much love and care Eya had given to this world. How the beauty and colors and sounds were all composed by her as a gift to all living things.
They always felt hollow, deceitful, and preachy.
“So… there’s good and bad news. Bad news… the world is ending. Like, pretty soon.” Eyala seemed bummed out by that. Audrey merely kept the same unfazed expression, still unwilling to believe this was happening, unsure of what was even real anymore. This was still a dream, somehow, even if now she was heavily suspecting she’d been transported to another world altogether.
“But, good news is! You’re the hero that’s going to take care of that!” By now Eyala was becoming painfully aware of the fact that Audrey had yet to say even a single word to her. “Um, Audrey, I know this is a lot to take in, but I just wanna know if you’re with me so far.”
An uncomfortable silence. The two just stared at each other for a moment, a lonely scarf and rainbow hair flowing in the imaginary, still wind.
“...I’m no hero.” Was all Audrey said, lowering her sword.
“Pretty sure you are!” Eyala piped up with disconcerting cheerfulness. “This isn’t just a dream, Audrey. This is a test, designed by Eya herself! The one who picks up the sword and connects with its power is the one destined to be the hero to rise when the apocalypse comes!”
“I’m not a hero!” She said, louder than time, more defiant. But she hadn’t let go of the sword yet, gripping it tightly. Even if she didn’t really believe Eyala’s tale, the feel of the sword in her hand, the texture upon the hilt, the weight of the blade, the still slightly-alien reflection clear in her eyes… it was all tangible, too clear to be pure fantasy. She had half a mind to slash at the spirit for this cosmic mockery, but the other half was wishing to see how deep this dream would go.
“...‘kay, so, you’re not quite ready to believe me yet. That’s okay, I understand. This is pretty wild, I know. Don’t worry, though! I’m gonna be around to help you. I can show up anywhere, it’s pretty cool. I’ll come back when you’re ready. See ya soon!” With that, the spirit smiled and almost seemed to wink at her, even though it had no eyes to speak of.
And just like that, Eyala faded away, leaving nothingness behind. Audrey just stood in this stone island, watching the clouds go by. She stared at the sword in her hand. It still reflected the same face back at her, still struggling to really internalise it as her own.
She wondered if it could really be true. Did this really mean she was a hero?
Curiosity and a deep desire for confirmation drove her to point the sword towards the heavens again. She focused, and sensed the sword’s power within her. She beckoned forth that energy, and the sword obeyed. It seemed to be charging, as sparks appeared on the blade. Once she felt like she’d gathered enough, she unleashed it all at once.
A blinding flash. A deafening roar. An overwhelming wave of power.
Audrey jolted awake with a sharp breath, sitting up in her bed. She felt disoriented for a few seconds, but her senses slowly readjusted, and she found herself back in her boring, dull bedroom, only the typical sound of wind blowing in the early morning accompanying her now softer exhales.
Just a dream. Another flight of fancy.
Until she saw something reflecting early dawn sunshine beside her bed. The sword rested against the wall, quietly, as inconspicuously as it possibly could.
Audrey rubbed her eyes, then twice, then thrice. It was still there, looking as eerily perfect and pristine as in her dream. She shakily extended her hand to try and grab it, only for her breathing to accelerate once again as she realised she was wearing those same gloves. At the edge of panic, she threw the bedsheets away, and found herself in full heroic costume, just as real as she’d just dreamed it.
She turned to the sword again, this time to catch a glimpse of her face.
There it was. Confident, strong, mighty, powerful, staring back at her.
It really was her.
Hand still shaking, she grabbed the hilt and took the sword. Immediately she felt that power coursing through her veins, that magic that let her control the sword through will alone.
It was real. Eyala was right.
Deep in her mind, something was stirring. Something she’d never felt before, but always dreamed of. An intoxicating surge of confidence, of power and elation. For the first time in a long time, a grin spread across her face. With newfound determination, Audrey held the sword up high, and bathed in the soft dawn sunlight reflected from the sword.
She felt the scarf on her neck blow in the air, despite being no wind in here. She knew that this meant. She was ready for it.
Her name was Audrey Redheart. She was going to change the world. And nothing would stop her.