So, this is my first Fable fanfic, and I'm setting it very shortly after the downfall of Jack. If you can't tell, the hero chose mostly the evil path, and that will be played out. I am also not including the Lost Chapters expansion for those of you who care. Please R&R. Thanks. Enjoy
Prologue
Jack of Blades lay dead at the Hero's feet. His chest heaved with exhaustion, and his right arm dangled almost uselessly at his side, but it still clenched the sword that had extinguished Jack's life. He stared at the mask that hid the horror that had seemed to span centuries. He only felt hatred for that mask and whatever evil it had possessed. That man had single-handedly destroyed the Hero's life. He had ordered the attack of Oakvale, which had killed his father. He had deliberately held his mother captive and forced his sister into hiding. He had ordered her eyes gouged out. He had effectively made the Hero an orphan. It was lucky Maze had found him when he did, or the Hero could have died as a young boy. Too bad the old fool hadn't seen the potential in him and sided with Jack.
He recalled the first time he had ever seen Jack. It was years ago, in the Arena in Witchwood. He had been an upcoming hero, and had been asked to fight. He had breezed through the first rounds easily, his sword dispatching every bee, Hobbe and Bandit it had come across. Then, it was time for the partner rounds. He had been paired with a childhood friend named Whisper. 'Friend' was using the term loosely. Ever since he had met her, she had a nickname for him. 'Farm boy'. He hated that nickname with a passion. It angered him each time she called him that. And she had done it again that day when she saw him.
"Hey, Farm boy," she called from across the circle. Let's get that prize money, ya?" Then she smiled coyly before getting ready for the next opponent. He grimaced at the memory. They won every round, never taking a break to resupply or buy better armor. He was tired once they beat the giant scorpion, but knew he could keep going if he needed it.
Then the villain exposed himself dramatically, announcing a surprise round. It would encompass the two surviving heroes to be pitted against one another. A fight to the death. The winner would have more riches than they could imagine. Once the round began, the Hero immediately went on the defensive, knowing all too well Whisper's 'attack-first-ask-questions-later' attitude towards fighting. He parried her every move, sidestepped every lunge and dodged every blow, countering each time. Finally, she kneeled before him, pleading.
"Please, Farm boy, we had a deal," she begged. He stared down at her, reveling in how pathetic she was. She had known the rules when she agreed to the match. "Let me go. We can spit the prize money, twenty-eighty! I'll take twenty," she said, a look of hope glimmering in her eye.
"There is is, folks," The announcer's voice stated, rumbling around the stone structure. "Reaper has beaten her. Now, all he must do is strike her down, and the entire prize will be his! Will the Left hand of Skorm live up to his name, or will he show his human side towards his childhood companion?" The crowd was cheering, some were booing, others were calling advice to him, whether to kill her or not.
He stared at her, a hidden hatred welling up inside him. His grip on the black sword he carried tightened, and Whisper winced.
"Please," she begged again, "We had a deal." She sat, staring at him for some time before he turned away from her. She let out a sigh of relief and stood, smiling. "Thank you. I'll see you back at the guild." She turned and began heading for the exit when a loud burst of applause ruptured the stadium. She was about to turn to see what was going on when a large, black blade of an obsidian sword erupted from her chest. She stared at it, shocked at what had just happened before her whole world went dark.
Reaper pulled his sword from Whisper's body and watched as her lifeless husk slumped to the ground with a muffled thud. He turned and walked towards the other exit, a satisfied smirk set upon his features. He had disposed of one of his biggest threats. A fellow hero. He could barely hear her brother, Thunder, crying in agony over his sister's body as the crowd erupted in cheers. He would deal with Thunder later, and would satisfy this kill like none before.
His sister's voice brought him back to reality and out of the sweet daydream.
"This, little brother, is the choice I spoke of so long ago." She turned her sightless eyes to the sword that lay on the ground next to Jack, and a small glint of light shone on the stone floor beside it. It opened quickly, and seemed to swirl around itself. "The sword of Aeons. It is a powerful sword that wields immense power. You saw what it did to Jack." She turned to face him again. "This is what has caused the world so much suffering and grief. This is what caused us to be torn apart, and what caused Mother's death. This is your choice."
She took several steps backwards and stood, arms spread wide. "You must either cast the sword into the vortex, effectively destroying it forever, or strike me down and wield more power than you have ever imagined." He knelt down and picked the sword up and scrutinized its every detail down to the seemingly double blade. He felt its power flow into him and wrap itself around him, embracing him like a long lost relative. But there was something more. Something sinister. It lurked in the background, as if not wishing to be sensed, and this troubled Reaper. It seemed as if Skorm himself had a hold of this weapon, and Reaper of all people was most in tune with the god of evil. He had led countless victims to their death at his temple, and had sacrificed countless more upon his own blade in his service, but this scared even him.
He looked at the sword shortly before turning to look at his sister, deep in thought. If he destroyed the sword, he could live with his sister, his only remaining family member, and restart the guild and train more heroes to help save Albion. They would ensure justice, and make sure no one like Jack ever came back. He stood and calmly strode towards her, his face void of emotion, and quickly inserted the sword into her stomach and withdrew it just as fast.
She fell, clutching her wounds. She fell onto her side and watched him with sightless eyes.
"I hope that what little you cradle close to you in this wretched world keeps you happy, for all will not stay that way." And with that, his sister died. He bowed his head, but not for her. It was for her ability. She was a gifted seer, and he knew she could have been useful. With her death, the vortex instantly closed, and with it all chances of destroying the sacred sword.
Reaper retrieved his obsidian sword and strode to the body of Jack of Blades. For what he did to his family, he would be made a spectacle. He surveyed his surroundings. He was in the very chamber he had officially graduated as a Hero at their guild. This would do finely. He picked up the body in one finely muscled arm and walked to the wall. Once here, he held Jack's body in place and pierced his chest with the Obsidian sword, embedding its blade in the solid stone of the chamber. He proceeded to break off the handle and recite an incantation, ensuring Jack wouldn't carelessly fall, decay or be taken away. Then he walked to the body of his sister and picked her up and carried her towards the door. He stopped on the bridge connecting the chamber to the main Guild. He peered over the edge and thought to himself. He decided that it was time to start anew. Time to start fresh. He cast her body over the side and watched as the darkness engulfed it, but only turned to leave when he heard a sickening crack from below.
He left that place, magically sealing the door shut. He emerged in the library, watching as fire was still burning all the books and shelves, and he smiled at it all. He smiled at the firelight dancing on his black plate mail armor, and inhaled the sweet smell of destruction. He knew his place in the world. He would restart the guild and find more suitable for being called a 'Hero'. He would train them in everything a hero needed to know. He made sure they'd know everything, for they would be serving him and him alone as an army of Heroes. And at that thought, he laughed.