The Forsaken Hero

A reverent hush fell across the swamp as the assembled soldiers and mages fell silent. Lord Griffon stood on a large tree stump, amplifying his voice with a simple spell. Feeling weary from the travel and conversation, I summoned my staff, leaning against the glassy shaft and listening closely.

”One year ago, the gods blessed our world with warnings of a darkness to come. A time in the near future when demonic hordes would descend from hell and ravage our lands and loved ones. That time has come, and we have risen to meet it”

He raised his hand, quieting the scattered applause. ”Through this gate is a land teeming with demons and the unknown. I couldn’t ask for more faithful or diligent soldiers, yet even with heroes at our side, some of you may not return. Should you be called to offer your life for your family, country, and world, know that you will not be forgotten. For we are the first to lay our blades against the darkness, chosen by the gods to begin humanity’s final stand against the demonic invasion. Hold your heads high, comrades. For Enusia!”

With a final rallying cry, Lord Griffon drew his sword, the clear ring setting off a fervent wave of heroic cheers. Within seconds, the camp was abuzz with activity. Soldiers ran here and there, gathering their gear and preparing to enter the Gate. Fyren stepped closer to me, face darkened with worry.

”Are you alright? I noticed you aren’t looking well.”

”It’s nothing,” I said shortly, pushing him away. ”I’ll be fine.”

”Even so,” he persisted, ”I insist you allow me to stay by your side. No hero should stand alone ever, much less in your condition.”

”That’s the first I’ve heard of that,” I muttered. My life wasn’t exactly filled with companionship, after all.

We both turned as Soltair’s voice entered the conversation. ”I think that’s a great idea. Judging by your aura, you’re more than quite capable. Xiviyah, it would be difficult for me to be on the front lines, leading the battle, and have to watch over you as well.”

Soltair’s show of faith left Fyren grinning, but I still felt wary. Although he seemed like a normal person, my soul tingled every time he drew near. It was unlike the warnings I’d received, but I didn’t know how else to see it.

Seeing my unconvinced face, Soltair sighed, the excitement on his face dimming. ”Stay beside him and let him protect you. I heard he wanted to join us later, so use this as an opportunity to gauge his skills.”

”Thank you for the opportunity, great Hero,” Fyren said, bowing low. ”I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

Soltair nodded, but his eyes contained a razor’s edge. ”You’d better not. If any harm comes to her....”

”You have my word.”

And just like that, it was settled. I couldn’t disobey Soltair, not when he worded it so specifically, or the punishment of the slave crest would fall upon me. Just thinking of it sent a shiver down my tail, and I hugged my staff close.

Several minutes later, we took our places in the force. As a mage, I found my place beside the other magic users of the Crimson Guard, deployed directly behind the main force. Soltair and Trithe would lead the charge, blasting through whatever defenses were in our way and creating room to launch an organized assault.

Judging by the amount of mana the Sun Hero currently held, I judged it would be safer if I remained behind until that position was established. I’d learned from bitter experience that he didn’t care about collateral damage. My stomach twisted with bitterness at the thought. His threat to Fyren was fresh in my mind, seeming a blatant contradiction.

”Stay beside me,” Fyren said suddenly, tugging on my sleeve to draw me closer. My breath caught in my throat as I bumped against his torso, and tried to pull away, but his grip was firm. ”I’m serious. This is your first battle, right?”

Reluctantly, I nodded and gave up resisting. Fighting against him would only tire me out, and he didn’t seem to have any ulterior motive. He leaned down, his soft whisper tickling my sensitive ears.

”Just hang back and watch before slinging any spells. War is a dangerous game, and the slightest mistake will claim your life.”

”I don’t think that’s a concern,” I replied bitterly. ”I can’t use combat magic, anyway.”

He released an audible gasp, and I felt his fingers tighten. ”How is that even...ah, a curse. I’d like to hear more about that later, but in any case, try to learn something from the demon spellcasters. As weak as they are, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hell has techniques Enusia’s never experienced.”

My grip on my staff tightened, and I nodded. We didn’t have long to wait after that, as Lord Griffon approached the gate with Riven by his side. As the elderly mage began casting a fourth-circle spell, I activated the Eyes of Fate and watched. It was difficult to see anything behind the brilliant magic of the Gate, but I memorized the magic circles he used to activate the Gate.

A massive tremor shook the scarlet swirls of mana, turning the entire portal translucent. Giving Griffon a sharp nod, Riven stepped to the side, maintaining the spell as the Lord commanded everyone forward. Soltair and Trithe bounded into the mass of magic, disappearing into curling ribbons of light. Giving another rallying cry, Griffon followed behind, leading the ranks of soldiers into the gate.

As it became our turn, Fyren’s grip on my shoulder tightened comfortingly, his rugged face softening with a smile. Taking courage in his quiet strength, I stepped into the rotating red light, gasping as an irresistible suction latched onto my soul. The ground disappeared beneath my feet, and my vision swam with red light. A twisting feeling, similar to when the gods sent us to the world, ripped through my gut, and I felt a sudden wave of nausea.

As intense as the sensation was, it lasted but for a moment. After a moment of churning through space, my feet slammed into solid ground. Stumbling a few steps, I regained my balance and looked around.

We were in a massive cavern, easily stretching a hundred feet tall. It was completely circular, with a large glowing crystal in the center, and an identical twin to the one in the center of the Gate. The ground and walls were made of hardened lava, with a pulsing orange grow leaking through the cracks and lighting the room.

A suffocating waves of heat emanated from the crevasses, blasting through the room. As sweat dripped down my forehead, I quickly threw up a third-circle Fire Shield, lowering the temperature to something much more amenable. Fire Shield was a variant of Elemental Shield that protected its target from mundane and magical heat up to the fourth circle.

The other soldiers gasped in the fiery heat, some dropping to their knees as it soaked into their armor and began roasting them alive. The other mages began casting their own protective spells as quickly as they could, but their chants crawled through parched lips, taking many seconds longer than they should have.

As the last soldiers appeared in bright flashes of light, Riven materialized beside me and took quick stock of the situation. ”This isn’t good,” he muttered. ”Can you do anything about it?”

I looked to see who he was talking to but found his gaze resting solely on me. Taking a deep breath, I nodded and gathered my mana. The nearest squad was filled with panting men, many of whom had already dropped their weapons and were tearing at the scalding steel strapped to their flesh.

”Fire Shield!”

My soft voice vanished amid the screams and hiss of the burning air, yet the sudden appearance of fifteen sets of magic circles couldn’t be ignored. Circles of fire crackled to life around the squad of soldiers, their screams abruptly dying off as the magic shielded them from the heat.

After a second to catch my breath, I began casting once more, repeating the process until a fire shield blazed around every soldier and mage. Although our force was nearly three hundred strong, I completed the final spell barely three minutes after the first.

Having lost myself in the strenuous act of using so much of my mana, I hardly noticed the shocked gazes of the soldiers. By the time I lowered my staff, I was exhausted. My vision swam and my breathing was rough and jagged, but I felt nothing but satisfaction. A moment later, my staff glowed and a tide of recycled mana flowed back to my soul, replenishing my depleted reserves.

”Simply incredible,” Fyren murmured. The big man had remained by my side, watching in concern but never interfering. ”But won’t sustaining so many spells burden your soul?”

”I modified the spell to draw on the host’s mana, so there shouldn’t be any problems.”

His eyes widened slightly, but Soltair pushed through the ranks of men before he could say anything else.

”You look exhausted,” he said, looking me up and down. ”Make sure to stay near Fyren so he can look after you. Things are probably going to get rough, and I can’t split my focus worrying about you.”

”So you’ve said,” I muttered. He gave a short nod to Fyren before returning to the front lines.

I sighed, deflating as my satisfaction slipped away. Although I no longer longed for his praise, his entitled demeanor felt cold and distant. Perhaps he thought this much was expected for a hero, or took such ability for granted. Either way, the lack of recognition left me slightly dispirited.

”Are you alright? You’re tail’s twitching,” Fyren said, his expression marked with worry.

I jumped slightly, face growing red as I looked and caught my tail mid-swing. ”I’m fine. Let’s just get going.”