Who Would Be Our Hero Now?

By:

Proud Warrioress

Disclaimer: This is a very short story written after I had seen the season Three finale maybe 3 times, and is my gut reaction to Sacrifice 1 and 2. The characters are not mine, wish they were, but Universal has the rights to them. No copyright infringement was intended in the writing of the fan fiction. If you have not yet seen Sacrifice 1 and 2, then this will not make much sense, and is most certainly a spoiler for those episodes.

This story is copyrighted by the author and may only be archived with the author's permission.

All comments may be sent to me at Proud Warrioress

The heat rose up in waves around her, but she felt nothing. The blood trickled from her brow, but she knew it not. The numbness pervaded her spirit, and she could only stare into the depths of the pit. She had not moved, and not wrenched her eyes away from that horrible sight. As though by her sheer force of will, she could bring her back.

The body at her feet lay unmoving, death having claimed yet another soul this fateful day. She had been prepared for her own death. She had been ready. She had felt no fear. But this, this was unthinkable. And it threatened to defeat her as no mortal, no God, no army had ever been able to before. This one act of unselfish and undisguised love, this sacrifice, would be her undoing. And she knew it.

It had happened so very fast, and had she not been in the clutches of that vile creature's power, she may have been able to react more quickly. But the force of Dahok's daughter had counteracted her famed reflexes, her famed power, and she could only watch in horror as that pit claimed all that was good and worthwhile about her miserable existence. Put to the flames that should have been hers all along. It was she who should have died by the flame, as she had lived, as she would spend her eternity in Tartarus. That was what she had been prepared for that morning.

What was that? Someone speaking to me? What is he saying? I can't make out the words any longer. That screaming...her voice...no! The warrioress pressed her hands over her ears as if to drown out the memory of that last scream, that last cry for help that she couldn't answer. The cry began to fade, only to be replaced by the cackling of Callisto, but she herself had silenced that. She had merely reacted out of grief and pain, lashing out without thought to her promise. It was true to her nature, true to herself. The warrioress now knew without doubt that the warrior was who she was. No pretenses of retribution or redemption, she was a killer, that was all she knew. She had broken that fireside promise, and that knowledge only fed her guilt.

Now the one she had so tried to keep safe had also been killed, and to her irrational mind, it had seemed fitting to mark the occasion with the blood of a Goddess on her hands. She looked down at her hands, somewhat surprised to see the dagger still clutched there. It slowly tumbled from her fingers, hands that no longer had the strength to wield it, clattering to the hard stone floor.

Her empty eyes fell to the staff, lying haphazardly upon the altar steps. Unconsciously she moved to take it up, needing the feel of the familiar object in her hands. As her fingers closed over its smooth surface, the memories flooded into her mind. Memories of a gentle smile and a pure soul. Memories of a happier time, before all the pain, before the loss. She had lost too much, and it was more than she could bear.

Solon! Gabrielle...no... The staff fell to the floor, dropped by nerveless fingers as she sank to her knees, a lone tear for the dead making it's way across her cheek to fall forlornly to the cold stone floor. Gabrielle...