How can I save the world if I’m no longer the hero?

Joan stared up at the ceiling, desperately trying to suppress the urge to scream with frustration. It had been three days since she had helped Searle learn how to better wield his shield. Since then she hadn’t been alone in the room with him since. The irony that she now WANTED to be alone with him and yet couldn’t was not lost on her. He and Bauteut seemed to be rotating who was watching over her, with him here at night and her watching during the day.

Bauteut’s visits were probably the more headache inducing of the two, since the girl always wanted to ask question after question about her seer abilities. It was so annoying that she almost wanted to tell the healer the truth. How was she supposed to know who Bauteut would marry? Or who any of the chosen would marry? As far as she knew none of them had ever had a chance to get married. She’d at least hope if they had she would have been invited to the wedding. Things had been far too chaotic to waste on such an affair.

As opposed to her first few nights here, however, each night it seemed another student had to spend the night in the infirmary. One had a sprained wrist, another a swollen ankle, it seemed as if the world was conspiring to ensure that she wouldn’t be left alone with the chosen for a moment. Thank the gods for healing magic ensuring they only had to spend a single night there and it not being anything more serious. She’d even tried going down to watch him practice a few times, but there was no getting him alone then, either. At least it got Bauteut to be quiet for a short while. But, mercifully, tonight seemed as if she would be here alone. The last healer was getting ready to leave for the night, without any other patients to watch over. Searle was laying on the bed besides her, staring at the ceiling as well.

It would still be a few more days before they’d allow her to leave, but at the very least she no longer had to be watched all night or worry about the flu returning. She mentally counted the seconds while she waited for the healer to leave. It was so hard for her to not just scream for the man to finish packing up his medicines and go away. The last patient was already gone, there was no reason for him to be here. Fortunately, her experience with Bauteut had taught her that lashing out at a healer in any manner was likely to not end in her favor.

Finally, the door closed and she let out a sigh of relief. She opened her mouth to speak--

“I’m sorry,” Searle said before she could say a word.

“What?” Joan asked.

“For not being better, I’m sorry,” he said again.

Joan turned her head to stare at him. She couldn’t begin to understand what he meant by not being better. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“My training. I thought I’d be further along now than I am. I’ve seen you a few times, watching me. I know you’re disappointed,” Searle said softly, his gaze lowered.

Joan stared at him for a few long moments. It was true that she had spent some time watching him practice each day, but she couldn’t see why he’d be apologizing for that. “I mean, yes. I’ve seen you a few times. Why would you think I’m disappointed?”

“You always seem so mad. I know you probably expect me to be further along than I am. I’m not slacking off at all, I swear.”

Joan continued to stare at him, her mouth falling open a little bit. “You’re not slacking? What?” She wondered if she had she really allowed her annoyance to show so clearly. It wasn’t that he wasn’t advancing quickly enough, it was that he was advancing too quickly. It annoyed her to know how strong he was becoming. “That’s not it.” She struggled to grasp the words. Once more those thoughts flew through her head. Could she trust him? How could she EVER trust him?

Joan shook her head. No. she was falling back into that way of thinking. She had to tune it out if she wanted any chance of success. She’d made so many mistakes in her lives, she had to make sure she didn’t repeat them. “Searle, you’re doing incredibly well. I’m not mad at your lack of progress. I’m jealous,” Joan finally said. The words felt disgusting in her mouth, but she knew they were true. “I’m jealous of how strong you are. I want to be that strong. No, I want to be stronger. I’m sorry. It’s jealousy and a bit of fear. I have to tell you something.”

“You’re jealous of me? Why? How? You’re incredible,” Searle asked.

It took a few moments for Joan to realize he was serious, not mocking her. “Wait, what?”

“I mean, you’re the daughter of Lord Hardwin. Even if illegitimate. You’re one of the best students they’ve ever trained here, you’re the youngest graduate they’ve ever had. You’re only twelve and they already say you’re going to become one of the greatest warriors the academy has ever had. You pick up magic incredibly easily, you--”

“None of that is true!” Joan yelled, her hands tugging at her blanket now.

“But it is! You’re amazing, you even--” Searle tried again, but she cut him off once more.

“No, I’m not. It’s not like that. I’m not learning anything. I haven’t learned anything new aside from how terrible I am,” she said before letting out a soft sigh. “All these abilities, these accomplishment, this raw talent? It’s not mine. Or it is. It--” She stopped when she heard a light thump from outside the room. She waited for someone to come in, but there weren’t any more sounds. She shook her head and started again. “But it wasn’t made over these last twelve years. It was made over thousands of years.”

He stared at her, slowly cocking his head to the side. She could practically see the gears in his head turning, trying to understand her words. “What?” he finally asked. “You’re twelve.”

“My body is twelve. Sometimes my mind feels like it’s twelve. Other times it doesn’t. It’s hard to explain. I’ve tried it plenty of times and it never gets easier.” She leaned forward and held her head in her hands.

“Is this a seer thing? Like seeing the future makes you feel older?” Searle asked.

“No. I’m not a seer. That was a lie,” Joan said.

“Then how did you--”

“Please! Just let me finish. Please. Searle, I’m scared of you, okay? I’m jealous of you. I’m mad at you. I want to be like you and be nothing like you at the same time. It’s complicated. And I’m terrified to tell you all this. But I have to. You’re one of the chosen. More importantly, you’re one of my friends. Even if you have killed me hundreds of times,” she said that last part softly, though to his credit he looked horrified.

“I’ve killed you? I would never do that. I swear,” Searle said.

Joan took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Slowly she pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her face in them. “It’s a long story, Searle. Please, hear me out to the end. Hardwin isn’t my father. He’s always been more like a brother. I suppose in some lives he’s been something more, but always more like a brother. An annoying older brother, but one none the less. So here goes. I’m not Joan. Or I wasn’t Joan. Joan didn’t exist, at first.”

Slowly, piece by piece, she told him everything. About what had happened, about the lives she had lived, the failures she had endured. The world that had fallen because of her, again and again. About the times he had killed her. About the fact it was always him, if he lived to that point, it was always him who turned on them and killed them.

When she finally stopped, she looked over to him. She wondered, now, if this was what would push him to turn those nightmares of hers into a reality. Would he try to kill her? Or would he be more like Hardwin and deny it? Would he be mad at her for not trusting him? Would he try and join the demon lord on his own? Of all the things she expected, though, she didn’t expect him to look so sad, even miserable.

“Searle?” she asked softly. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s all true, isn’t it?” he asked softly, his eyes lowered to the ground. His hands were locked on his knees, visibly shaking.

“You believe me?” Joan asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked gently, his voice shaking. “It’s true though, isn’t it? I’m going to betray everyone? I’m going to kill everyone? I’m going to become that monster in the end?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I came back. But I failed. I don’t know how many times. But I’m a magic swordswoman this time. So I’ve failed. I had to fail.”

“Was I the reason you failed?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? But maybe it was me. Maybe I did something stupid this time. Or last time. I don’t know. So I’m just not. So this time I’m doing everything different. I’m going to try and not do things like me,” she said softly, trying to keep a quiver out of her voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have from the beginning. But...”

“But you were scared. No wonder you always hated me so much.”

“I don’t hate you,” she said quickly, though she felt a soft flash of guilt when she realized that was a lie. She did, at least a little. He was her friend, or at least he was supposed to be. Yet she hated him. What was wrong with her? Even if he could kill her, eventually, he hadn’t yet. She never felt this way towards the others who betrayed her. So why him?

“Are you sure? I certainly hate myself a bit right now. Why did you even come to me, then? Why not grab me at the end?”

“I knew where you were,” she said with a shake of her head. “I needed Hardwin to believe me. And because, no matter what, you’re still my friend. I may struggle to understand that, sometimes. But that’s what you are. It’s who you are. Even if you fell to the demon lord, you are still my friend.”

Searle didn’t speak for a long time, his eyes focused on the ground. Finally, he spoke up. “Were we friends? Were we ever really friends?”

“Of course we were,” Joan said, though the look on his face told her he didn’t believe her. She didn’t blame him.

Had they ever, truly, been friends? Had they ever been close enough for that? No. They hadn’t. Throughout so many of her lives, she’d been so dismissive of him. She’d ignored him, tuned him out. He was unimportant. Why did they need a shield, anyway? They were all incredibly powerful as it was, normal weapons barely hurt them at all. There had been better healers. The creatures they slew often died before things could get too bad. The one time he could prove to be at all useful, the one time they had truly needed him, that one time had been the time he had died. When he was the one who stayed behind. She felt another quiver of guilt through her heart. She wondered when she would have the courage to tell them about what had been the final battle for so many of them in different timelines.

“No. I guess we weren’t. I don’t think I ever let us be,” she finally said. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself. “I was arrogant. I’m starting to see that a lot, actually.”

Searle gave a small nod. “It’s what I thought. I understand.”

Joan stared at him for a long moment, barely stopping her mouth from falling open. “You understand? Aren’t you mad?”

“Not really, no,” Searle said with a shake of his head. “Should I be?”

“Why wouldn’t you be? I treated you like dirt! I ignored you, belittled you, acted as if you didn’t matter. I--”

“I don’t have any memory of that,” he said with a shake of his head. “All I remember is Joan. Besides, if you were that powerful, that much above the rest of us, it makes sense. I mean, this happened to me and I still don’t believe it. I can’t be surprise if you struggled with it.”

Joan stared at him, the knot of guilt in her stomach only growing. She wondered how could she have treated him in such a manner for so long? If this was the kind of person he was, if he could so easily forgive her, believe her, what might he have done if she had only believed in him from the beginning? Would everything had been avoided? If she hadn’t always chosen him as the one to be ignored, shoved aside, left behind?

“How can you forgive me?” Joan asked gently.

“Did you think it was for the best? Did you think I didn’t matter?” Searle asked.

Joan gave a small nod. “I’m sorry...”

“Do you feel that way now?”

Joan was silent for a long, long moment. Normally, she would have instantly said no, but internally felt the answer was yes. But she pushed those thoughts away and focused on how she truly felt. Finally, she spoke up. “No. I was wrong. I think I do need your help. I think I’ve made a lot of mistakes and I need so, so much help. From all of you. And I think I’d like to be your friend this time. If that’s okay,” she said softly.

“Of course it is,” Searle said, for some reason actually looking happy about that.

Joan gave a soft sigh and closed her eyes. “You really believe me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Why? How can you do it so easily? Hardwin was my closest friend and even when I gave him all the proof I could manage, he still only barely believes me.”

“I guess I’ve just known you longer,” Searle said, his voice going soft. “I’ll be honest. I always felt there was something off about you. Something that didn’t make much sense. Not just how you fought or seemed to pick up new abilities and spells so quickly. Even in the way you talked and look at things. You always seemed so focused on something. I just couldn’t ever put my finger on it. There was something familiar about you, too. I just didn’t know why. It really makes a lot of sense now. Why you were always so amazing, why I always felt as if there was something about you that I just knew.”

Joan couldn’t help chuckling. “Knew, huh? Isn’t that the biggest reminder of my own foolishness. The only one who can recognize me is the one who I spent all my time ignoring. I am such an idiot.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot. If you don’t mind me asking, though, you have all those memories, right? What’s it like? Do you feel more like the hero or like Joan?” Searle asked.

“It’s really hard to say. Sometimes it feels like those aspects of me just take over. When I’m fighting or talking. That knowledge, all those memories, that desperation. The need to just fix things. I feel more like that hero, then. But then there are other moments...” She pulled the blankets in tighter. “Don’t tell anyone? Especially not Hardwin?”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Sometimes I get so scared over the silliest things. Or I’ll see something I really wanna try. Then it’s like all those memories mean nothing. Or other things,” Joan said softly, her cheeks turning bright red. Memories of wearing that dress came to mind, how pretty she’d felt. She’d be eternally thankful if they never found out she’d allowed herself to get lost in something so silly. The lives of the whole world on the line and she wasted time admiring herself in a mirror. “I guess it’s somewhere in between. I’m both Joan and the hero. Or his echo, I guess. It’s really hard to say. I definitely feel like Joan. But I also feel like him. It’s all this terrible, jumbled mess that I can barely untangle pieces of.”

“I see. In that case, there’s one more thing I’d like to ask you,” Searle said.

“Oh?” she asked, glancing over to him once more. “Ask away, I’ll try to answer as best I can.”

“You keep saying the hero or you were the hero. But you’ve never said your name. Who were you, before?”

Joan chuckled and rolled her eyes. She’d thought he’d ask something difficult. “Oh, that? My name was… my name was...” Her voice trailed off when she tried to scramble for an answer. The longer it took, the more panicked she began to feel. She couldn’t remember her name. She tried searching through her memories. People had called her by name, she knew it. But the more she focused on the memories, the more they seemed to slip away. She could remember her home, but she couldn’t remember the symbol of her family.

Worse, it had been so easy. She had always called herself the ‘hero’ in this life. Talked about the ‘hero’. But she’d never said her name, even once, since arriving here. She couldn’t remember who she had been. She could remember so many of their acts, but not who they were.

Joan stared at him, her whole body shaking. “I don’t know. Oh by the gods I don’t know.”