The Forsaken Hero

The wall of fire swelled like a tsunami, swelling a hundred feet in either direction. Plumes of fire cascaded before the wall, winding like serpents around houses, trees, and fallen corpses, reducing everything they touched to ash. Billowing waves of heat bore before it all, lighting countless fires in the brush long before the brunt of the spell arrived.

The spell’s strength transcended the peak of fifth level, as far into the depths of sixth as possible without technically breaching the border. It was a true masterpiece of magic, possessing the skill and refinement of many of my modified spells. Had this terrible power not been directed at me, I would have loved to watch and study the flow of mana, for there was surely much to learn.

Unfortunately, there was little time to consider the objective beauty and skill of the spell. Had Fable been at full strength, he might have been able to avoid it, but his side was torn from flank to shoulder. Life magic crawled over his wounds, slowly healing his flesh, but there was no time. This spell held the strength of a sixth-circle spell, yet I was forced to confront it.

I squandered one of the few precious moments remaining with a deep breath, closing my eyes and soothing my trembling tail. My heart thudded in my chest, yet I willed myself to be calm, soothing the fear until only excitement remained. I was dimly aware of Fable’s head beneath my hand, soft and warm, filled with trust. Our souls fully connected in that instant, and a mysterious, yet familiar power flowed into me.

The moment my heart stilled, my eyes flashed open, filled with a storm of glistening stars. The world crawled by in slow motion, the descending storm of fire shining with a light not even the Eyes of Fate had revealed. Every rune, circle, and weave of mana was sharp and clear, their past, future, and present paths all playing out at the same time. Behind the wall, I found the swirling mass of chaos that could only be Gayron’s soul, the epicenter of light and power of the breathtaking sight before me.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was aware of my mana draining away at a tremendous rate, but as I continued to watch the unfolding display of mana, all I felt was awe and wonder. Fable had granted me hints of the stars behind reality, yet now the curtains of Fate were drawn, the secrets of truth and eternity laid bare.

I pointed my staff at the oncoming cascade of flames, purposeful yet unhurried. Falling into a trance-like state of concentration, I shaped dozens of threads of mana, delicately weaving the runes of a third-circle spell. My soul was weakening, the last of my mana trickling away, yet there was enough.

Rune by rune, three magic circles materialized before my staff, spaced about an inch apart each. They spun lazily, trapped in the same state as the rest of the world, small and insignificant against the peak fifth-level spell. Withdrawing my staff, I left them hovering in the air and stepped back, a small, satisfied smile on my face.

”Dispel Magic.”

At my command, the Stars of Fate vanished. The muted rumble of the approaching wall of flame drowned out all thought and reason, the burning tendrils devouring everything in their path, yet I stood calm and unworried. The three small magic circles flashed and collapsed on a central point, forming a small, concentrated sphere of glowing golden light.

No sooner had the spell completed than the sphere launched forward, trailing a glistening aria of starlight behind it. For a second, it vanished into the flames, seemingly consumed by the inferno, yet I still didn’t move, watching it with wide, shining eyes.

A mere heartbeat before the fire engulfed us, an agonized scream rose above the roar of the fire. Golden light glistened within the sheets of flames, coating the spell’s countless, complex threads of mana. Within a second, the fate magic had reached the furthest depths of the spell, fully corrupting the mana that sustained the powerful, explosive cascade. It glistened like morning does on a spiderweb, a beautiful golden glitter in a sea of red and orange.

Then, it began to break apart, burning away like fog before the sun. In the center of the tangled web of dissipating flames, Gayron writhed, screaming as the golden light traced the lingering remnants of mana into his soul. Such a thing should have been impossible, the spell had left his soul long ago, yet the light marched onward, flowing on lines of fate unbound by time.

Gayron tried to run, to tear away from the encroaching light, but there was no escaping fate. The golden light reached his chest, soaking through his armored plates and penetrating deep into the depths of his soul. The discordant force of Dispel Magic combined with the backlash of the failed fifth-circle spell, directly attacked the delicate patterns of his soul. It didn’t just disrupt the mana, but fully attacked it, literally breaking it asunder. The chaotic swells of infernal mana collapsed in on themselves, terrible, black cracks forming across the nebula of his soul. His voice rose to the heavens, a raw expression of utter, broken agony.

”Fable, now!” I cried, throwing my hand forward.

Fable, mostly recovered from his injuries, lunged forward. He moved neither fast nor slow, as inevitable as an executioner’s blade. In a single bound, he leaped high into the air and landed on the demon’s chest. His claws flashed once, twice, three times, before he kicked off the demon’s chest and landed back at my side.

The demon’s scream cut into a wet gurgle, blood sprouting from deep gouges in his chest and neck. He staggered to the side and dropped to one knee, the ground shaking from the heavy impact. His clawed hands groped desperately at his throat, but his efforts were futile, and glowing lava-like blood seeped through his fingers.

A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me, and I swooned, the entire world spinning. Somehow, I caught myself on my staff, saving myself from collapsing, but even had I fallen, I’m not sure I would have noticed. The semi-healed scars in my soul burned as hot as the spell we’d just barely survived, aching from the strain of suspending fate itself.

Though my legs trembled and my vision swam, I forced myself to take a step forward, then another. Fable appeared at my side, supporting me through each painful step. I came to a stop above Gayron’s large, demonic head. By now, he had fallen to the ground too weak to move, his body and soul shattered.

It took all of my power to keep from shying away as I knelt before his murderous gaze.

”What did you do to me? Who are you?” Blood spilled between his demon lips, obscuring the words, but the pure hatred in his voice was evident.

With a shallow breath, I opened my mouth to speak, my voice sounding hoarse and strained, barely above a whisper. ”You have no right to me. I’m free, and I can no longer afford mercy to those who seek to hurt me. I don’t know who you are, apostle, or where we fought before, but if I ever find your main body, I will finish what I started. You asked me who I am. I am Xiviyah, Daughter of Fate, the Oracle of Eternity.”

With that, I turned and limped away, Fable at my side. Behind us, the demon choked his final breath and turned to ash, drifting away on the wind. It had become clear in the moment I peered through Fate that his strange state–the union of a mortal soul and demon body–was no more than an avatar or projection of sorts. Perhaps one of the otherworldly abilities he had been granted as an Apostle.

Even so, he wouldn’t find it easy to recover from this battle, if he ever could at all. Though the body hadn’t been real, the soul wasn’t so easy to synthesize, and I had very nearly destroyed that.

The clash of steel rang me from my thoughts, and with a groan, I raised my head to peer across the village. Some hundred yards away, Korra still fought the blade demon. She dodged and wove between its spindly limbs, never more than a hairsbreadth from being struck or killed. Occasionally, the demon shivered in frustration, producing that awful keening, but she never even flinched.

Blood ran freely from a dozen shallow cuts across her body. I tried to raise my staff, to cast a long-distance healing spell on her, but my vision wavered like I were underwater. Exhaustion made my hands heavy, and they fell back to my sides. The mere action of calling my soul sent a spike of agony through me, and I winced, my tail trembling in pain.

Korra dove to the side as a blade came crashing down from above. The steel point drove deep into the ground, splitting rugged paving stones like they were no more than porcelain. Catching herself with a hand, she spun about and lashed out with a fist, directly striking the blade. The impact sent a ribbon of water curling around the demon’s limb, joining the host of watery ties binding its movements.

With a screech, the demon cut at her from several directions at once, but the cumulative power of her magical techniques weighed on it, slowing its movement to the point she had no trouble avoiding it. After a few more exchanges, she caught sight of me watching, because she turned and flashed me a confident smile. Nodding back, I collapsed against Fable with a sigh, content to watch the fight play out. This was her training, after all. Even if I had the strength, she’d probably just get mad if I interrupted it.