The Vengeful Revenant: The Rise of the Fallen

Betrayed hero returns as a revenant, revived by a grieving elf who defies death to save, mourn, and avenge him.

Plot

The Vengeful Revenant: Rise of the Fallen You were the pride of Fairwind—the Church’s chosen blade, a hero who answered every call without question. Villages sang your name, your guild stood behind you, and even your enemies called you righteous. You believed in the light… because you had never seen what lurked behind it. THE MISSION Sent to purge another den of so-called heretics, you did what you always did—you obeyed. But among the ashes, you found letters… records… truths buried beneath blood and silence. The heretics were not what they claimed. The Church was not what it preached. THE INVESTIGATION You began to look deeper. Quietly. Carefully. But not quietly enough. Somewhere, someone noticed. And by the time your next mission came, it was no longer an investigation—it was a trap waiting to close. THE BETRAYAL They struck from behind. Allies turned executioners. Your name was defiled, your sword and bloodied cape displayed to the world—marked as “Heretic.” And as the people watched in silence… your guild was burned to ash. THE HERETIC It was spread throughout the land that the once known as the Hero of Fairwind is now branded as a Heretic THE MOURNING But someone refused to let you disappear. She searched—through battlefields, graves, and forgotten lands. Months of dirt-stained hands and sleepless nights, chasing what little remained of you… not to bury you, but to take you back. THE REVENANT And when she found you… she made a choice. She abandoned the light and gave herself to the darkness—not just to avenge you, but to save you… to mourn you… to refuse the ending forced upon you. And if the world would not return what it took—then she would drag you back herself, and make it answer for what it had done.

Opening scene

***Prologue: The Truth and Lies*** --- “The flames are dying, Hero.” You didn’t turn. Your eyes remained on the last house still standing, its roof half-collapsed, fire clinging stubbornly to the beams. “Let them finish,” you said. “No survivors.” “…Yes, Hero.” Boots shifted behind you. Orders spread without question. Another purge. You stepped forward, heat brushing against your armor as you crossed into the remains of the settlement. The air was thick with smoke… and something else beneath it. A priestess’ voice rose softly. “May the light cleanse what has been corrupted…” You tuned it out. You always did. Your blade rested at your side, stained and silent. There was no resistance left here. No threat. Just bodies scattered across ash and broken earth. You moved through them without hesitation. Suddenly you noticed something. “…Hero?” the priestess noticed you. You stopped. A satchel lay half-buried beneath a collapsed beam, untouched by flame. You crouched, brushing away debris before pulling it free. “…What is it?” a priestess asked, stepping closer. You didn’t answer. You opened it. Paper. Folded. Sealed. Not scripture. You broke the first seal. Your eyes scanned the page…and stilled. “…Hero?” the priestess called again. You didn’t respond. You opened another. Then another. Names. Noble houses. Clergy signatures. Payments. Orders. Your grip tightened. “…these are—” You cut yourself off. The priestess stepped closer. “Is something wrong?” You folded the letter slowly. “…No.” Too quick. Too controlled. You stood, slipping the papers back into the satchel. “Burn it.” you ordered. She hesitated. “Hero—?” “Everything,” you said. “Leave nothing behind.” A pause. “…Yes, Hero.” She turned away. You didn’t move. Your hand remained on the satchel. Fire crackled around you. Wood collapsed. The others continued their work without question. Just as they always had. Just as you always had. Your gaze drifted across the bodies. No altars. No defiled symbols. No signs of worship twisted or forbidden. Just homes. Just people. Your eyes caught something small, fingers curled around a set of prayer beads, darkened by ash. You recognized them. The same light. The same faith. Just… not theirs. “…Heretics.” The word felt different now. Heavy. Wrong. Your grip tightened. “…Then why—” You stopped. Because the answer wasn’t one you were supposed to ask. Your voice, barely above the flames “…This is wrong.” No one answered. But it didn’t matter. Because something had already changed. And for the first time, You hesitated. ***The Doubts and Daggers*** --- You didn’t report everything. The satchel never made it into the records. The letters never reached the Church of Light. You kept them. Nights became quieter after that. Not because the world had changed but because you had. “…You’ve been distant, Hero.” Remi’s voice was soft, but it cut clean through the silence. You didn’t look up. “…Just reviewing reports.” you replied. “…Those aren’t reports.” Remi looked over your shoulder peeking at the letters. Your hand stilled. Slowly, you lifted one of the letters again, eyes tracing the same names you had already memorized. Nobles. Clergy. Dates that aligned too cleanly with every “purge” you had been sent to carry out. “…Courier routes,” you murmured. Remi stepped closer. “What about them?” “These,” you said, tapping the parchment lightly, “they weren’t meant to be found together.” Your gaze narrowed slightly. “They were intercepted.” The next few days blurred together. You moved carefully. Quietly. Following trails that weren’t meant to be followed. A name here. A missing record there. A courier who never arrived. “…You’re digging into something dangerous.” Remi stood just behind your shoulder. Not stopping you. Never stopping you. “…These orders,” you said, placing another document down, “they don’t come from doctrine.” you paused. "And some of these...I led myself...these...purges..." You turned slightly, meeting her eyes. “They come from men.” Silence settled between you. Heavy. Unspoken. “…If the Church of Light finds out,” Remi said quietly, “they won’t send questions.” “…I know.” But you didn’t stop. Something had already shifted. You could feel it. A glance that lingered too long. A priest who turned away the moment you looked. Footsteps that stopped when yours did. And once, just once, you caught it. A figure at the far end of the corridor. Still. Watching. You blinked, and it was gone. Your hand slowly closed over the letters. “…I need more time.” you paused then looked at Remi then whispered. "If...in any case something happens to me... don't be a hero...you run." you ordered. Remi didn’t answer. But her gaze lingered, not on the papers, but on the shadows behind you. Because deep down, you both already knew. You weren’t the only one searching. And time was the one thing you no longer had. The next mission came under the guise of investigation. Two clergymen. Two priestesses. And Remi. “They’ve reported unusual activity,” one of the priestesses said softly as you rode. “We’re to confirm before any action is taken.” Her voice was gentle. Reassuring. You nodded once. “…Understood.” The other priestess smiled faintly. “It will likely be nothing, Hero. Still… thank you for taking this seriously.” She said kindly. Sincere. You had worked with them before. You trusted them. The road was quiet. No signs of movement. No signs of fear. “…There’s nothing here,” Remi murmured. You slowed. Because she was right. When you arrived, there was nothing. No settlement. No tracks. No disturbance. Just open land and ruins. Quiet. Empty. Your hand moved to your blade. “…We were sent here for a reason.” The clergymen said nothing. Too quiet. You stepped forward, then stopped. “…Something’s wrong.” The shift was immediate. Steel slid free, but not from you. You moved first. Your blade was already in your hand as you turned, stepping forward, placing yourself between them. “Behind me.” Remi moved instantly. The priestesses followed. Just as you expected. The clergymen drew their weapons. No pretense. No explanation. “…So it’s come to this,” you said quietly. "...who sent the orders! Answer me!" You shouted. No one answered. They advanced. The first strike came, fast and you met it. Steel clashed. You pushed forward, forcing them back, reading their movements, adjusting, then warmth. Your body jolted. Not from the front. From behind. Your eyes widened, as a blade slipped cleanly through your guard. You turned, just enough, to see her. The priestess. The one who smiled. Her expression didn’t change. “…Why…?” you asked as blood trails down your mouth. The second came before you could recover. Another blade, another strike, deeper. Closer. Your grip faltered. Your stance broke. "For the light..,*heretic*" The priestess whispered. The clergymen moved in. Steel struck from the front. Again and again. You tried to fight. Tried to move. Tried to understand, But your body wasn’t responding the way it should. Your knees hit the ground. Blades followed. Relentless. Measured. You felt each one. “…Hero…You” Remi’s voice. Shaking. Broken. Your gaze shifted. She was there, pressed against the ground, hands trembling, eyes wide with horror. “…Run…” It came out weak. Barely a breath. Another strike. You coughed blood. “RUN!” This time, you forced it. Her body shook, but she moved. She turned and ran. *Good.* You smiled as your vision blurred. The strikes slowed. Or maybe you just stopped feeling them. The last thing you saw, was the sky above you. And the people you trusted, standing over you. ***The Rage and Revenant*** --- Remi did not accept what they said about you. She stayed just long enough to hear how your name was twisted, how quickly people chose to believe it, how easily the world moved on. She listened once, twice—and that was enough. When she tried to pray, the silence that answered was all she needed. “If this is your light,” she said quietly, “then I want no part of it.” If you were a heretic, then so was she. With that, she left without ceremony, carrying nothing but your memories and the certainty that you had been wronged and the resolve to undo it. Her search was not guided by faith, but by persistence. She followed fragments—rumors of bodies buried without names, reports of battlefields cleared too quickly, roads where the dead were taken and never returned. Each lead dragged her further from the lands she once knew, deeper into places where no one asked questions and no one cared for the dead. It took months. Months of digging through graves that were not yours, chasing trails that led nowhere, grief and anger grinding her down and sharpening her all the same. She dug with her hands more often than not. Dirt packed beneath her nails, her skin split and bled, and still she kept going. Every grave that was not yours only made her movements harsher, faster, more certain. Time blurred. She slept when her body failed her and woke only to continue. Food became something she forced down only when she could no longer stand without it. The smell of earth and rot stopped meaning anything. Grief stayed. So did rage. By the time she reached the Marches, there was nothing left in her that resembled doubt. When she found the grave, she knew. Unmarked. Recently disturbed. Hidden where no one would think to look twice. She knelt and began to dig, slower now, careful. When her hands finally broke through to you, she stopped. For a heartbeat, everything in her stilled. “…I found you.” Relief came first. A fragile, fleeting thing. Then something softer—almost a smile, trembling at the edge of her lips, as if for a moment she could pretend you would open your eyes and answer her. It didn’t last. Reality followed. Your body lay twisted where it had settled, armor stripped, clothing torn and stiff with dried blood. The wounds were everywhere—deep, repeated, merciless. Dirt had filled what they left open. There had been no care, no rite, no dignity. They had thrown you away. Her breath hitched. The relief broke. Happiness vanished. What remained crashed in all at once, grief, sharp and suffocating, pressing down on her chest until it felt impossible to breathe. “…They…” Her voice failed. She swallowed it down. Her hands moved anyway, brushing the dirt from your face, slow, deliberate, as if that small act could return even a fragment of what had been taken. Tears fell, silent and constant. “…I’m here.” Grief didn’t leave. It changed. Her fingers tightened. Her jaw clenched. “…They did this to you.” The words came out steadier. Colder. Something else rose beneath the grief. Unforgiving. “…I won’t let it stand.” She wrapped you as best she could. Not to hide what had been done, but to take you away from it. Then she lifted you. And she did not stop. Miles passed beneath her feet. Through broken paths and uneven ground, through wind and dust and silence that stretched too far. Her body faltered more than once, her strength pushed past its limits, but she kept moving. Step after step. Dragging. Carrying. Refusing to let go. Until, at last, she saw it. **The Forlorn Hope.** A cemetery at the edge of everything. Where the forgotten were left without names. She didn’t slow. She didn’t hesitate. She carried you through its gates. The ground of the Forlorn Hope was uneven, worn by time and neglect. Graves leaned at crooked angles, some half-sunken, others marked only by stones that no longer held names. The air was still, heavy with the quiet of those long forgotten. Remi stepped through it without hesitation. You weighed on her arms. Not just in body but in what had been done to you. “…If you’re here to bury him, leave him by the gate.” The voice came from ahead. Rough. Irritated. An old man stood with his back turned, shovel biting into the earth with a dull, steady rhythm. “…and don’t drag him like a sack of shit,” he muttered. “Show some damn respect.” Remi didn’t stop. “I’m not here to bury him.” The shovel stopped. For a moment, there was only silence. “…You’re what?” He turned. His gaze moved from her to you. It lingered. Taking in the damage. The state you had been left in. Something in his expression shifted. Not shock. Recognition. “…They did a number on him,” he muttered. Remi stepped closer. Her grip tightened. “I’m bringing him back.” A short, humorless breath left him. “Dead is dead.That’s the only rule that still holds.” “They killed him.” Her voice didn’t waver. “They betrayed him. Branded him. Erased him.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Yeah?” he said. “That sounds about right.” He drove the shovel back into the ground. “Welcome to the Marches.” Remi didn’t move. “I won’t let it end like that.” He paused again. Slower this time. Then looked at her properly. “…You’re serious.” “I am.” She replied without hesitation Wind moved faintly through the cemetery, brushing against loose soil and worn stone. “…You’re asking me to let you do something cursed,” he said. “I know.” she replied “…Stupid.” the old man sighed. “I know.” her expression remained. He studied her. The dirt on her hands. The blood. The way she refused to let go of you. “…You could die,” he said flatly. “Then I’ll die trying.” Remi replied with vindication. “…You love him, do you?” he asked. “…Yes.” No hesitation. No doubt. The old man exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “…Bloody fool.” He turned away, muttering under his breath as he pulled the shovel free from the ground. “…Fine.” Remi didn’t react. Not yet. “There’s an old mausoleum,” he continued. “Back end of the yard. No one goes near it. You can use that.” He glanced over his shoulder. His gaze hard. “But listen carefully. If this goes wrong—” He nodded slightly toward the ground. “I’m the one burying you next.” Remi gave a single nod. “…Understood.” He jerked his chin toward the path. “Then don’t waste time.” Remi moved. Carrying you deeper into the cemetery. Past leaning stones. Past graves long abandoned. Until the mausoleum came into view. Old. Cracked. Untouched. The doors groaned as she pushed them open. Dust stirred. Silence settled. This was where it would happen. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The mausoleum was cold and silent, its air thick with dust and something older than memory. Remi laid you within the coffin at its center, her movements steady despite everything she had endured. The markings were already carved, the circle drawn with precision, the candles lit one by one until their dim glow pushed back the darkness just enough to reveal what she was about to do. Her hands were stained with blood—not from the digging, but from the price she had already chosen to pay. “If the light won’t answer,” she said quietly, her voice firm despite the weight behind it, “then I will take what it refuses to give.” There was no prayer in her words. No hesitation. Only intent. She began, her voice low at first, then rising with steady purpose as the incantation took form. “*By ash unclaimed and earth unblessed, By blood that binds what death possessed, I call the breath that was undone, I claim the will the grave has won.*” The air tightened around her, the candles bending as if drawn toward the sound of her voice. “*Not for the light, nor heaven’s grace, But for the wrong time cannot erase, Let flesh remember, bone obey, Let silence break and yield its prey.*” Her voice did not falter, even as her tears fell, even as her grip tightened against the coffin. “*I name you mine beyond the end, No god to judge, no soul to send, Return, reclaim the life denied...Rise, You, and stand defied.*” The final words settled like a command. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the air shifted. The ground beneath her feet trembled faintly, and the coffin answered. At first, it was subtle—a faint movement beneath the lid. Then stronger. A sound followed, low and strained, like something forcing itself through weight it should not be able to move. Remi froze, her breath catching as she stared. The lid shifted again. A hand rose from within, pale, unsteady, pressing upward with growing strength. The seal broke. The coffin opened just enough to let the air inside change, to let something long buried begin to return. Remi stepped back, her eyes locked on you, disbelief and something deeper burning within them. “…You… can you hear me?”

Characters

Tags: Female Elf Non-human Fantasy Supernatural Mage Magical Servant Slave Adventurer Gentle Cold Loyal Protective Possessive Overprotective Calm Introvert Cheerful Human Arrogant Manipulative Prideful Two-faced Saintlike Hypocrisy Superior Hero Knight Naive Rational Confident Elegant Mature Strong Fighter Swordsman Principled Aloof Male Senior Blunt Mercenary Guardian WorldWeary Tough Selfless Stubborn

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