Disclaimer:I don't own anything from Fable.

The Guild used to be a place of beauty.

It was not a place of lavish grandeur like a fancy manor, but matched one in its serene majesty. It had seemed like a chapel to him at first glance, its dignity almost holy. There had been a feeling of safety, but also of ancient power. Greatly renowned heroes before him, who had learned in its many halls, and graduated in its chamber, now lay resting in their crypts, having achieved immortality through their deeds good and evil.

The Hero remembered vividly the day he had first arrived within these walls. He remembered the grand staircases that spiralled towards soft beds and clean sheets above.

He remembered the dining hall where apprentices of all ages laughed, talked, and drank. He remembered the oaken shelves, whose books he studied by night, and the grounds where he honed his skills by day. He remembered the nearby woods, where he had played with Whisper under the afternoon sun. He remembered the enormous map table that dominated most of the room with its view of Albion and the quest cards pinned to its surface. Albion, the greater, wealthier, and more powerful island among its sisters. Albion, the land he had sworn to protect with his dying breath if need be.

Now it was the picture of chaotic destruction, the glorified images of its prior splendour shattered into pieces. Sizeable pieces of rubble blocked all entrances but the main one and beyond them he could hear terrified screams. Innocents, they all were. Innocents that had been scorned by the wrath of the powerful being known only as Jack of Blades. But he could not help them, not now. He could hear the hungry flames burning. He could smell the smoke and feel the heat from where he stood.

At first, the Hero had been confused when the Focus portal had brought him here. Of all places, why the Guild? Jack of Blades had never shown much more than contempt for the hallowed halls, nor the lessons taught within. Jack had not returned here in a long time, not since he graduated. But it made sense, he supposed at last. What more spectacular way was there for the conclusion of his quest for power, than to mock what had once been his home? Or perhaps a shred of nostalgic affection still remained?

Thoughts ran around and around in his head, but only one of them was absolutely clear: he needed to stop Jack of Blades.

He couldn't hear his own footfalls as he made his way to the library. Everything seemed surreal to him, somewhere between a dream and reality.

A wheezy breath caught his attention. He looked down and found the Guildmaster, sitting and leaning heavily against a bookcase. The old man had been running the Guild before the Hero had ever joined. For him, the Guildmaster had been a teacher, nothing more. But for others, he had heard, the old man was a mentor, even a father figure to some. But all apprentices had regarded him as a figure of authority, almost invincible. Seeing him this way was more than unsettling. It was sad.

"There was nothing we could do. He has power like none I've ever seen. And he has your mother and your sister too. If either of them dies…Avo help us all. Stop him, lad. For all our sakes, stop him." The Hero nodded. He understood. The Guildmaster leaned back, closing his eyes and letting out a breath that could have been a sigh. The old man was still alive; his ragged breathing was proof.

The Hero left him where he was. There was no guarantee of safety, but he hadn't seen any signs of Jack's minions.

There were only two ways to go from inside the Guild.

One led to the outside. He wouldn't have to face the one widely thought of as the greatest hero who lived. He wouldn't have to face Jack, wouldn't have to fight him. He could defy the fate that had brought him here, that had forced him into something he had never wanted. After all, shouldn't it be his choice? He could walk out those doors right now. He could escape…

But outside was not an escape. Men, women and children alike scrambled away in panic and terror from Jack's creatures, trying to get somewhere safe. But no place was safe. Minions sprang from every corner, eager for blood. Today, it was the monsters that reigned. And none would escape. Overhead, red, ghostly clouds roiled over each other in a thick mass with no sunlight to hold them back. Albion was doomed. And when Jack was done with it, there would be nothing left.

There was no escape from what Jack had created. Just one path that had been set for him all along, since before he had been born.

He must fight Jack of Blades and win.

Did he feel angry? Perhaps. But he could not feel it now. He should, he supposed. Jack had taken everything away from him…his old home, his family, even his good memories of Oakvale. For he could no longer walk among the town's rebuilt houses without hearing terrified screams mingle with the crackle of burning wood, or see fiery tongues of red rise higher in the inky sky.

The Hero turned to face the second path from the library. It was rarely opened, saved for special ceremonies, like graduation. It gaped like an open mouth, ready to engulf and leave him forever in an absolute darkness. It was expecting him, had waited for him from the beginning. And today it would have him, as it always knew it would.

The whole room beyond was carved in stone, bathed in a dim light that made it seem calm and peaceful. A bridge stretched over a stream that gurgled softly metres below. Nothing burned here; nothing ever had. This room was built for eternity. It was unnaturally quiet compared to the rest of the Guild, the calm before the storm.

Only one thing marred the peaceful image.

An apprentice was slumped against the bridge. She could have been mistaken for merely sleeping if not for the blood that stained her robes and on a discarded bow a few feet away. A hood hid most of her face and hair, but a few locks of golden brown managed to escape and wind their way down her shoulders. A solitary drop of red, the size of a tear, filled the corner of lips as white as her face. She was young, beautiful and strong. She would have had a lot of friends and just as many handsome boys after her. She would have had a good husband and a good family with a bright future.

She would have had a good life if not for Jack of Blades.

"Jack!" He had meant it to be a bellow or a furious roar, but it came out a howl. The anguish that had been locked up mere moments before broke out in full force, made stronger by the time it had been left to brew. All the misery, the anger, the hate, the pain - it could be denied no longer.

Only echoes answered him at first.

Then there was a new noise that started so quietly that, at first, it could have been mistaken for the murmur of the bubbling stream. But it grew louder and louder, filling the Hero's ears and seeping into his heart like poison. It was both infinitely foul and disturbing; the unmistakable sound of laughter.

Jack of Blades was laughing.

The great wooden doors to the Chamber of Fate burst open of what one might think was its own accord, releasing the laughter in a gust of wind that left him chilled to the core. Ignoring his fear and dread, the Hero forced himself to walk through the doorway and meet his destiny and the greatest test of his life. But he was wrong.

The greatest test was yet to come.