The Forsaken Hero

Following my revelation, Slivera sat back, her gaze blank and vacant. As the silence dragged on, my tail began to twitch, and I stroked my horn anxiously. I’d never shared the full extent of my powers with any outside our party. I hadn’t even told Fyren about the full cusp of the Eyes of Fate.

At long last, Slivera released a long sigh. ”I can understand why the church is so desperate to contain you. If someone of your abilities were to fall into the wrong hands, it would spell catastrophe on a level every bit as great as the Demon Invasion. Were it not for your Divine Curse and slave crest, they likely would have executed you right away. And if one of those ceases to become a factor... well, if you’ve come this far, I assume you’re no idiot.”

I nodded, hands clenched tightly in my lap. ”What do you plan to do?”

”A good question. The correct thing would be to obey the church and take you to shard, and then likely immediately to the Divine Throne.”

A heavy weight settled in my stomach, but I couldn’t miss the hesitant note in her voice. ”But...?”

She smiled wryly and stretched out her hand, resting it on the book. ”Unfortunately, I only came by this information after promising to teach you for a month. When you live as long as I do, certain things become more important. Personal honor and integrity, for instance. So while a verbal promise is far from a binding agreement, I don’t really feel like breaking my word.”

”Thank you,” I breathed, my shoulders sagging in relief.

”Now,” she said, waggling a finger, ”don’t think that lets you off the hook. I’m no more on your side than I am there. One month, and we visit the shard. Until then, I’ll do my best to tutor you.”

”I understand. But thank you for giving me a chance.”

”A chance?” She murmured. ”Yes, I suppose so.”

From that moment on, I spent every waking moment pouring over spellbooks and tomes. Learning a seventh-circle spell was so much more than memorizing a set of chants and runes. Using his cheat-like ability, Soltair made it look easy, yet I found doing it the proper way required a comprehensive elevation of my knowledge and abilities. Without Slivera to guide my growth, I could see myself struggling in the dark for months, perhaps even years, as most mages did.

My work was not without fruit. My soul continued to increase in power and control, and I mastered the ability to Soul Cast spells up to the fifth circle. To practice many of the new techniques, I learned almost a dozen first and second-circle spells, rounding out my diversity and abilities. As for higher-circle spells, I mastered Detect Presence, a Fate spell that detected the presence of souls. While it lacked the specificity and depth of the Eyes of Fate, it revealed hidden presences, like potential ambushes. As powerful as the Eyes of Fate were, it didn’t give x-ray vision and failed to penetrate objects as Detect Presence could.

Absorbed in my efforts, the remaining month slipped by like a dream. On the final night of my probation, I left the library and headed to the training grounds, Spellbook resting in the crook of my arm. Fyren and Slivera trailed behind me, both occupied with their own thoughts. Whatever their hopes for my final attempt were, it was of no concern to me. I would complete the spell and receive the Soul Evolution. I had to.

”Remember,” Slivera said, striding forward until her pace matched mine. ”Even should you break through to level seven, I am bound to see you to the Shard.”

Perhaps I was being impatient. Should I break the curse now, the Pope would most definitely step in. The looming threat was incredibly vague. As far as I knew now, the church only wanted a report when Adaptive Resistance reached seventh level. But, judging by the fact they dispatched a ninth-level soul to watch me, they couldn’t have pure intentions. Perhaps they wanted to place a stronger slave crest, split me away from my allies, or even kill me altogether. None of the options sounded appealing, but I knew I had to press forward. I was tired of waiting, tired of the executioner’s axe hanging over my head. Tired of being afraid.

”I’m prepared,” I replied, looking the master librarian square in the eye.

She nodded slowly, then raised her hand and cast a spell. I gasped, eyes widening in surprise, as eight magic circles materialized around the training ground. A translucent blue wall extended from their runes, forming a complete barrier and hedging us in. Although the night was late, a few students continued to linger, gaping in surprise at the sudden display of magic.

Power radiated from the barrier in waves, possessing more strength than I could have imagined. Soltair’s Solar Flare paled in comparison to the sheer majesty of a simple wall, a mere drop in the ocean. Truly, eight-circle spells were another realm altogether.

Slivera smiled, basking in my awe. ”We can’t have you accidentally destroying the campus, can we? A seventh-circle spell like Mana Storm would disrupt the entire city for days, possibly crippling some of the weaker students and civilians, even.”

I dipped my head in gratitude. ”Thank you.” I’d planned on erecting my own barriers, but they were as paper before this spell. ”What is it called?”

”Eight is still far out on the horizon. Focus on the here and now.”

I took a deep breath, pushing all the stress and strain from my body. I even allowed my tail to droop, resting on the ground. The eager faces of the watching students blurred and disappeared, accompanied by a thousand thoughts and questions. Once my mind was clear, I opened myself up, sighing in ecstasy as my mana roared in, filling my soul. Summoning my staff, I began to cast.

Using an incantation would have made the initial casting easier, but it meant surrendering control later on. There was no correcting mistakes or compensating for a fumbled word, so I chose to proceed chantless. The air trembled as the first series of rues appeared, a steady drone that rose as the first magic circle took shape.

As the fifth circle appeared, I noticed an alarming drop in my mana, but I could do nothing but push on. By the time the sixth formed, a cold ache strained my muscles. My arms trembled from the exertion of directing the flow, and I practically gasped for breath. The excess mana in the air was overwhelming, threatening to throw my magic circles into disarray. As the seventh circle began to form, my soul shuddered, bringing tears to my eyes and pushing me to the edge of consciousness.

”It’s too soon.” Slivera’s voice echoed dimly behind me, filled with regretful reluctance.

A sudden surge of mana gathered behind me, draining the air of mana. I stumbled, almost falling to one knee, but forced myself to maintain the spell. Once six magic circles appeared, it was do or die for a caster. To stop now ignite the mana into a volatile explosion, crippling my soul or killing me in the process.

”I’m going to dispel it!” Slivera called, her voice containing hints of desperation.

A spike of alarm lanced through me. I hadn’t failed yet! I was so close, just a few runes away! But every heartbeat threatened my tentative control, leaving me helpless to protest.

”No, trust her. She will see this through.”

”But-”

”I won’t allow you to ruin this.”

I’d never been so relieved to hear Fyren’s voice before. Had I the strength to spare, I would have shed a few tears right then and there. But I failed to even flinch when his hand rested on my shoulder.

”You can do this,” He murmured.

At his touch, a flow of soothing warmth flowed into me, combating the chaotic fluctuations ravaging my soul. Almost immediately, I managed to stabilize the spell, bringing it to a climax. The final runes materialized in the seventh circle, and the entire array began to rotate slowly, spiraling out until it brushed the edges of the training area.

All at once, the circles froze, and then exploded.

The chaotic maelstrom of raw mana released consumed the air in a storm of primal fury. Spinning colors and runes collided in a chain reaction, rapidly swelling to fill the interior of the eight-circle dome. Faced with the endless barrage of explosions, the walls trembled and shook. Their mana rapidly depleted until countless hairline cracks spread across the walls and they threatened to break.

The primal beauty of the spell swept over us, ripping at our hair and clothes. Upon entering the dome, we had stripped ourselves of magic items, save for my staff. Mana Storm drew exclusively upon the discordant field created by dispel magic, spreading the effects over a large area. Any spell, enchantment, or magic within would disintegrate before the raging currents of mana. So, although standing amid the storm, we remained unharmed.

The Mana Storm raged for over three minutes before gradually dissipating into eddies and slender tornados. As the spell weakened, Slivera’s barrier regenerated rapidly, recovering to its peak strength in a matter of seconds, as though it had never been damaged in the first place.

”It’s done,” I murmured, feeling my entire body go limp. I staggered, and Fyren’s arms wrapped around me, effortlessly picking me up off the ground.

The next five hours were unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Upon breaking through to the next level, mages received an evolution, in which their soul underwent drastic changes. The excruciating pain was entwined with heavenly bliss, two opposing forces joined in an inexpressible harmony that dragged on for eternity but faded in an instant. I drifted through consciousness, aware of nothing but the staggering amount of mana flowing into my soul, and Fyren’s warmth, which succored me through the formless pain and pleasure.

Eventually, the only thing I became sure of was that it had ended. The chaotic swirls of mana had stabilized, compressed within my soul. Feeling slowly returned to my body, I raised my head, weakly looking around. Everything was dark. My eyes were so tired I couldn’t bring myself to pierce the shadow.

A comforting hand rested on my head, slowly caressing my crimson curls. Even through the exhaustion clouding my mind, I knew it was Fyren.

”Sleep,” he murmured.

Unable to resist his gentle command, I closed my eyes and drifted away, lost to the visions which followed.