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Ketali watches the owlin fly away into the dark of night and feels a deep sense of numbness in her chest.
Six months. She’s been searching for Hezzor for six months. When she had imagined all the things that could have happened to her friend, she had…
Well. She’s not sure what she expected. She had thoughts, sure, but… she hoped she was wrong about them.
“Ketali?” Rafflesia steps forward, anger and frustration melting into softness. “Who was that?”
How could she explain? While she hadn’t been hiding the knowledge that she was looking for someone, she wasn’t sure what to think about… about this. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her. Like she had been stabbed through the chest.
Her entire body is shaking from the effects of the spells unloaded on her to go after the mysterious archer. She wants to say it's nothing, it's no one. She doesn’t want to worry her friends.
But, really, she’s not.
Ketali turns to Rafflesia, to everyone in her little band of adventurers, and the tears that have been building for the past six months burst.
She’s so tired. It feels like the entire world has crumbled below her feet. All she wanted to do from the moment she left home was find her friend, find the person who saved her life all that time ago and repay the favor she owed him.
But nothing since she came to Paradyne has gone to plan.
Ketali wanted to be strong, just like Hezzor was. It was why she didn’t turn tail and flee when Birchdale went up in flames, why she went back to the dragon-controlled remains to free as many people as she could even knowing dozens more were going to die despite their best efforts. That was what Hezzor had done when he found her; he smiled at her, and told her everything would be alright.
Except it’s not, anymore.
Since the day Hezzor had saved her, Ketali had thought about it many times over. The whisk of the arrow flying through the trees, bloodstains on his knees where he had knelt down to make sure the monster was dead. The warmth of the hand he held out for her to take, and the way he healed up her broken wing. Like a knight from a storybook, Hezzor was a hero. She had admired his courage and his bravery for years and how he went stalking for monsters before they could ever become an issue for towns like her own.
It was what she had clung to, the past few months, since the attack on Birchdale by the scorned dragon. When she couldn’t sleep, flames of red and gold dancing behind her eyes, she pretended that Hezzor was there, shooting arrows at the scorned dragon, or he was at her side, helping her usher the townspeople away from danger.
Maybe, if she pretended hard enough, he would appear, just as he had before, and offer her the guiding solution to their problems. That if he was here, then maybe they could stand a chance against Ixen. That everything would be okay.
Around her, her companions startle at her sobs, concerned, and rightly so. Ketali just folds her wings around her and buries her face in her hands, wishing she could just vanish from everyone’s sight.
Hezzor, what happened to you?
What could have turned her own hero against her? That look in his eyes… did he even recognize her? Was that why he hesitated?
Did it matter? Something was wrong with him. The tiefling that she saw tonight wasn’t the same cheery and kind hero that saved her when she was younger. It was a cruel mockery of him instead.
“Ketali? What’s wrong?” Nautikos chirps, alarmed, as her friends crowd around her. “Did you know that guy?”
All she can do is sob harder.
She couldn’t do this. She wasn’t like Hezzor. She wasn’t strong or courageous or selfless like him. How could she ever compare? It should be Hezzor fighting against Ixen, going back to Birchdale, dealing with the strange and ancient magic-energy-leyline siphoning bullshit machines. Not Ketali.
Hezzor has unparalleled accuracy with his bow, a connection to nature and the world around him in a way she envied, and the courage to back up his skills. And what did she have? A pair of wings, a weasel familiar that wasn’t even hears and a few magic sparks of electricity?
Even in her own party, she was nothing special. Strelitiza and Nautikos had been trained as monks for as long as she’s been alive. Rafflesia has a connection to nature just as deep as Hezzor and, with it, the force and fury of Mother Nature itself. Xaunius alone could probably go toe-to-toe with Ixen the Scorned by himself and come out victorious, once he honed his power and skill well enough.
Sorcerers like herself were said to be some of the strongest mages in the world. But her power felt like nothing compared to that of her companions.
And Ketali knew it was something that would only come with time but what time did she have? Ixen was already planning to raid the Capital in the coming weeks. His children were hard a work creating an army and the weaponry to go with it. There was no time to be anything less than a hero.
Ketali just… wasn’t.
The realization settles on her like a stone in her chest, a numb sort of acceptance. Ketali wasn’t a hero. Not like her companions. Not like Hezzor. She was just… herself.
She wasn’t anything special. Maybe she was never meant to be.