The Forsaken Hero

The night chill permeated the air, creeping through the quiet streets of Heartland City. But it wasn’t the Anomaly’s power that sent a shiver through my tail, but the white-robed figure standing before us. The priest was middle-aged, with a touch of grey at his temples, and a soul around third-level. His eyes glowed with a familiar power: gold, and laced with stars. Most discomforting, however, was the presence he exuded, a foreign, unfathomable depth that could belong to mortal.

”Perhaps I was hasty in calling you heroes, Korra, and Rachel. One has forsaken the gods, while the other lay forsaken.”

The voice that boomed forth out of the man’s mouth was deep and masculine, resonating like a violin’s strings pulled taut. It sent shivers down my spine, not from fear, but from a primal recognition. This wasn’t the voice of my goddess, but it held the same undeniable weight–the power and dominion of Fate itself. It was like hearing the warbled cry of a ghost, and I stumbled back a step, my tail lashing uneasily.

”No, this isn’t right. Who are you?” I took another step back, nearly bouncing off of Korra. She laid a hand on my back, steadying me, her warmth reassuring my spirits as much as her hand my balance.

The priest smiled, clasping his hands behind his back. ”I come bearing an oracle from the Divine. A warning, perhaps, to more accurately describe it. You are to cease your intentions at once. If you persist in meddling in the affairs of this world, and proceed to Brithlite, nothing but calamity will follow. Tens of thousands shall die, their homes and families consumed by blade and fury. Their blood will be on your hands, Xiviyah, and nothing will ever scrub them clean.”

My tail coiled uneasily. ”You’re lying. You have to be! I’m going to save her, I’m going to save Sari.”

The priest extended his arms out to either side, baring himself to me. Though his lips teased a condescending smile, his voice was cold and demanding. ”You would deny your god? It seems the council was right, and you have been allowed to run free for far too long. I will tolerate this behavior no longer. By the order of Fate, Oracle of the Future, you are to return to the Divine Throne and submit yourself to the Pope.”

The priest nodded succinctly, folding his arms behind his back. I shivered as his golden eyes bored into me, seeming to read my deepest secrets. For once, I finally understood how others felt when I looked at them: naked and exposed, completely vulnerable.

Suddenly, Korra’s laugh filled the air, slicing through the tension like an unsheathed blade. ”Well, I’ll admit. This is a new one. Just who the hell are you, and what gives you the right to tell her what to do?”

I couldn’t take my eyes off the presence before me, the pure, familiar power emanating through the very fabric of the world. My soul throbbed with the familiar resonance, yet it twisted, tainted by an undercurrent of malice and...incompleteness, something my goddess never possessed.

Pressing an uncertain hand to my breast, I glanced over my shoulder, meeting Korra’s eyes. ”He’s...Fate. At least, he feels like her. I’m not sure what, but something is missing, something important...”

The priest’s lips tightened into a firm line, his brow creasing in irritation. ”I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised at your sinful arrogance, betrayer. But can you not behold my power?” he stretched out his hand, a shining star materializing in the air. A heartbeat later, thousands of stars appeared in the world around us, the lines of fate and reality I had seen several times through Fable’s eyes. ”I am Fate, Oracle of the Future. And you, filthblood, are my hero. I have forgiven your arrogance long enough. Kneel.”

The word blasted out with unquestionable authority, shaking the city roots of the city. My soul trembled before the enigmatic power within the deity’s aura, driving me to obey, but I stood firm. The priest’s golden eyes narrowed, and the aura intensified, constricting around my chest until I coughed, the air forced from my lungs.

”You killed her,” I gasped. Struggling to raise my gaze, I met his eyes, not flinching in the slightest. ”You betrayed my goddess and expect me to obey you? You are not Fate. Not yet.”

My entire body shook beneath the pressure, my legs trembling, threatening to buckle. Beside me, Korra frowned, faring much better than I, able to muster her mana and reinforce her body. The weight was growing unbearable, and I coughed again, tasting coppery blood in my throat. In a desperate bid, I threw out a shaking hand and summoned my staff, intending to lean on it for support.

Before the stars had even assembled, the priest’s face went white with shock. By the time the crystal staff materialized, he was practically shaking, eyes wide with disbelief. His concentration broken, his aura receded, leaving me sagging weakly against my staff. As I gasped for air, my heart pounded so quickly I thought it might burst. If he had kept that up for just a second longer...

The staff vibrated in my hands, the crystal star glowing with a faint, defiant light. I recoiled as it released a soft pulse of mana that resonated with the thick haze of Fate Mana gathering around the priest. It tugged at my soul, filled with trepidation, as though the staff itself were afraid of the white-robed man.

”That can’t be...” the priest whispered, his eyes wide with a blend of astonishment and horror. He stumbled back a step as if repelled by the staff itself. ”How did you come by her relic?”

Coughing again, I drew a sleeve across my lips, wiping away a thin trickle of blood. The priest took a heavy step forward, eyes locked on the gleaming star at the head of the Staff. I pulled it close, clutching it protectively in both hands.

”That’s far enough.” Korra stepped before me, arms covered in watery blue light. ”God or not, take another step and break your vessel.”

Fate’s attention didn’t so much as flicker away from the Final Star, though he did stop advancing. After a long, tense moment, the uncertainty left his eyes, and he clenched his fists, finally wrenching his gaze away from the staff and onto my face. When he spoke, his voice was laced thick with disdain.

”You, a filthy mortal, dares hold the Final Star? I refuse to tolerate this sacrilege any longer. Give me the staff. Give me my inheritance!”

I looked down at the Staff of Fate, given me by the goddess herself. Inheritance? What was he talking about? Did it have something to do with why his presence felt incomplete?

Seeing my confusion, the priest quickly cooled his expression, calmly folding his hands behind his back, refining his speech into the voice of reason. ”Hero, surely you must understand this by now. That staff is too great to be left in the hands of mortals. It should never have been given to this world. Even though you remain ignorant of its powers, it has already caused calamity once and will surely do so again. If you do not wish to see your loved ones consumed in its chaos, you will relinquish to my protection.”

Korra glanced at me, shaking her head. ”Don’t do it. I already regret giving up my staff.”

The priest’s cheek twitched, the temper he had suppressed flickering behind the mask of calm. ”Stay silent. This does not concern you. Xiviyah,” he said, tone softening. ”I know you are fearful of the gods and this church, that you perceive they have hurt you unjustly. If you just give me that staff, I will be able to appeal for you in the courts of the Divine. I can smooth things over and protect you through the coming war. You are my hero, after all. I would never abandon you.”

The staff trembled in my grip, reaffirming its reluctance in my mind. I gazed at the twinkling star for a moment before raising my head and meeting the priest’s golden gaze.

”Answer me this,” I said, ”What is fate?”

The man answered without hesitation. ”I am Fate, child. I am the future, an oracle of things to come. Time flows at my command, and nothing is done save I know it.”

His words filled the air, proud and confident, bearing an arrogance only a god could justify. Even so, I shook my head, feeling a pang of sorrow as a hope I’d barely dared dream died.

”You’re just like them,” I whispered, my voice soft and broken. ”Selfish and unfeeling. Are you even capable of understanding mortals? Do you even care?”

”Understand? I understand all. I have seen wonders you can’t comprehend, the sorrow and joy of a thousand worlds. I am a god, child. Your god.”

My grip tightened on my staff, a spark of defiance dancing in my soul. ”Fate isn’t mastery of the future, or knowing what is to come. It is understanding the present. Fate is the ultimate truth, the very fabric of reality. If you claim to be Fate, then how can you not understand this? You are nothing but a sniveling dog, begging at the feet of the master who cursed me.”

The priest’s eyes flashed cold and hard as steel, his mask cracking into a scowl. ”I offered you the most anyone could, yet you have rejected my generosity. I shall see that your fate is filled with an agony far beyond anything you have–”

I took a step forward, speaking with a confidence I wished I felt. ”You have no power over me. Not even Fate, with countless millennia of experience, could see my path. What hope does a charlatan like you possibly have? I am free of your chains, and nothing you do will change that. Now leave us, we have more important things to do than waste time with dogs.”

The priest was quiet for a moment, then slumped, the gold light leaving his eyes. As he collapsed to the ground, soul utterly spent, a final, threatening whisper lingered in the air.

”We shall see, filthblood. We shall see.”