The Forsaken Hero

The Gardens and Training Fields were locked up with tourists and festivalgoers, with hardly space for a first-circle spell, much less something as dramatic as a fifth. At Thron’s recommendation, I slipped through the passages to the Arena, high in the mountains overlooking the Divine Throne.

As the platform rose, I closed my eyes, lost in the memories of the duel. I was no longer the same girl from a few weeks ago, but the horrors of the duel were ingrained in my mind. The War Hero’s merciless promise from the banquet rang in my ears, and I clasped my hands together, grateful I had evaded participating in the tournament.

When at last the magical lift reached the arena floor, I looked around, blinking in the morning sun. The stands, which had been filled with tens of thousands of people, were now abandoned. A lonely breeze wound its way through the stone aisles, curling over the inner walls and ruffling my hair.

Tentatively, I opened the Eyes of Fate, releasing a pent-up breath when everything worked normally, and no vision appeared. Perhaps Thron was wrong, and it was a one-time thing.

The Arena had significantly fewer spells active at this time. The barrier and recall system was down, leaving only the reinforced stone walls and floor. Even without the extra protection, I estimated they would only fail against something as strong as Ronin’s meteor, but even that might not fully compromise the runes.

Taking a deep breath, I ran through the Mirror Sphere spell one more time, carefully reviewing the chant and runes in my mind. I fully intended to use the chant, as there were simply too many individual runes for me to memorize without seeing the actual spell. It was slower and less mana efficient, but I’d set aside the next few days to practice, meaning neither of those were limiting factors.

I seized my mana, humming with pleasure as an immense tide of power surged into me, filling my soul. After enjoying the overwhelming sensations for a moment, I raised my hands and began to chant, speaking slowly and enunciating the words. Within seconds, the first magic circle appeared beneath my feet, rotating slowly as dozens of runes materialized within. My voice never faltered as the minutes passed, slowly constructing the next several circles. The strain on my soul increased, and my gathered mana slowly seeped away, drawn into the spell by the intonation of my voice. By the time the fifth magic circle blinked into existence, I was exhausted. My arms trembled and sweat beaded on my brow, but I persisted, squeezing mana from every corner of my being.

At long last, after ten minutes of continuous casting, the final magic circle was complete. By this point, the magic circles lined up from the ground to above my head, like a stack of pancakes with me in the center. As the final words of the chant left my mouth, I held my breath, waiting to see if the spell succeeded. The magic circles trembled for a moment, then flashed a brilliant white and faded.

No sooner had they vanished than a translucent silver sphere sprang into being, wrapping me up like a bubble. The interior surface of the sphere was slightly beyond arm’s reach, and it moved with me, staying centered on my chest. Through the Eyes of Fate, I could find no irregularities, but I lacked the means to test it out. Thron had stayed back to watch over the library, and I was incapable of using attack spells.

Mirror Sphere fell under the Protection category of Fate Magic. Unlike Aegis, which provided protection against all sorts of attacks, this one exclusively targeted magic and elemental assaults. From the shared wisdom in the spell book, I had high hopes for its resiliency but was more impressed with the secondary effects, which closely drew on Reflection. Any direct spell blocked by the Mirror Sphere would be reflected at its caster, amplified by chaotic mana. Even if the enemy survived the attack, their mana would be thrown into disarray, effectively crippling them and leaving them vulnerable to counterattack.

According to the spell book, the sphere would last for several minutes, or until it absorbed enough energy to fail. It functioned on different principles than Aegis, which drew strength from the caster until its maximum threshold was reached. Mirror Sphere’s runes drew in magic from the world around it, freeing up the caster to use their mana on other spells.

I stiffened as I felt eyes on me, and turned warily. Instantly, I let go of my mana, relaxing as Korra’s beautiful face looked down on me from an audience box.

”So this is where you are!” She called, leaping over the stone railing and drifting to the ground. Two magic circles aided her descent, gathering water vapor to slow and cushion her fall. She frowned slightly as she touched the ground, looking around the empty arena. ”Why aren’t you down at the festival? There’s lots of cool stuff going on right now, like shows and cool magical creature displays.”

I rubbed my arm and looked down, unsure of how to word it. She strode forward, relaxing as a gentle look entered her eyes.

”You know, hiding up here won’t do you any good. We live here now, in this world, so we might as well get to know some of the cultures. Besides, I’m sure the residents might be more receptive to you if they could see a demonkin going around having fun at a festival.”

”Do you know what festival this is?” I asked softly, still avoiding her gaze.

”The Summer Festival, right?”

My tail twitched as I shook my head. ”The Sun Festival, where they worship the Sun God. His magic is diametrically opposed to demon blood, a not-so-subtle sign of our relationship. The festival is literally a celebration of everything that hurts me, from the curse and slave crest to his magic.” Acting without thought, I shrugged a sleeve off and lowered my shoulder, showing her my back. She gasped, staring with wide eyes and reaching out to gently touch the faded scars crossing my shoulder blade. It was something I’d never shown anyone, not even Soltair, but was a burden I’d carried with me since Davin tortured me with Sun Magic.

I flinched at her cool touch, but endured the tingles racing down my body and turned to look at her, tears gathered in my eyes. ”You see?” I whispered. ”Demons can’t even heal properly from his touch.”

Readjusting my dress, I twirled to face her. Her eyes glistened with pity, and her voice was soft and tender. ”I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Who did that to you?”

”It was a priest and his gang. They attacked me when I wandered into a dark passage, taking advantage of the curse to humiliate me.”

She sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. ”And you couldn’t do anything to defend yourself. That’s horrible!”

”Well, that’s not entirely true. That’s when I...I...” The faces of the dead rolled before me, and I looked away, unable to meet her gaze any longer.

”If only you didn’t have that slave crest.” She murmured, placing a finger on my chest and tracing the crimson lines. I shivered uncomfortably but didn’t pull away. Her slender finger sent shivers through my body, but was warm, almost comforting. After a long breath, I found myself sharing more.

”That only triggered later. It was the curse that stops me from learning any combat spells.”

Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. ”That was you? Sorry,” she coughed, looking embarrassed, ”We talked about it when we were first summoned and gathered, but one remembered who had received the curse. I figured one of the others was simply hiding the fact, but it was you all along. And here I thought they commanded you with the slave crest. Is that why you’re so weak too?”

I flushed red, skin crawling with shame. She gasped, covering her mouth with a hand. ”No, I’m sorry! Not like that, but physically weak!”

”Not that it’s much better,” I mumbled, reluctantly nodding. ”While most people just get stronger the more they train their soul, I’ve got about as much muscle as the body I was reincarnated with. A regular demonkin.”

”And yet, despite all that, you’ve already cast a fifth-circle spell. I’m impressed,” she said warmly. ”It looks like a shield spell of some sort. Does it work?”

I blinked, having forgotten the Silver Spheres still surrounding me. As it only targeted magic, she’d been able to walk right through it and interact with me, making it slip my mind.

”I’m not sure,” I admitted. ”It’s supposed to reflect magic attacks, but I don’t have any of those.”

Her face broke out in a smile, and she ran back a few steps. ”Then let me help!”

”H-hey, wait!” But, before I could explain its effects, she began casting, and four magic circles appeared in the air around her.

”Water Lance!” she cried, pushing her hand forward.

Compressed jets of water sprang from the epicenter of each magic circle, ripping through the air with a roar and slamming into the Mirror Sphere. I cried out, covering my face with my hands as the shield shuddered, but I peeked through my fingers, amazed as it stopped every single drop.

”Not ba-” Korra’s face went pale as the magic circles disappeared, cutting off the jets prematurely. The summoned water lances reflected off the sphere, shooting in all directions. Then, like drawn by a magnet, they arced toward Korra, stabbing at her with far greater potency than before. Through all that, I was frozen stiff. The Mirror Sphere had hardly taken a dent in its magic!

”Ahhh!” Korra screamed, running away as the water zeroed in on her location. ”Heeelp!”

”Aren’t you the water hero?” I asked, feeling slightly amused. Although the spell would have posed a great threat to me, I doubted it would overcome her resistance. Water lance was only fourth-circle after all.

I instantly sobered up as her face whitened with panic. ”I can’t! Nothing’s working!”

I cursed my carelessness, finally remembering the chaotic field associated with the reflection. Running toward her, I mustered the remnants of my mana and cast a spell. ”Dispel Magic!”

An explosion of light and mana erupted from the Water Lances as their runes were dismantled. I sighed in relief, only half expecting that to work. My soul was hardly comparable to Korra’s, and the Water Lance had nearly doubled in power after reflecting. Fortunately, Dispel Magic was a Fate spell, which gave me extra proficiency.

”That was close,” she said, leaning over to catch her breath. ”What kind of magic was that?”