The Forsaken Hero

An hour passed slowly, and then another, but I remained deep in meditation. Magic was the one thing I could truly lose myself in, the one single joy that had sustained me through countless dark nights. I spent almost the entire first half studying Astral Breath, working out countless ways it might connect with my soul.

After a dozen failed attempts, I finally gave up and opened my eyes. Fable glanced at me, disturbed by my lashing tail, and I let out a sharp breath.

”Sorry, it’s just...never mind. I’ll work on it later,” I resolved. He blinked slowly then plopped his massive head in my lap, looking up at me expectantly.

Fighting a smile, I rested a hand between his horns and stroked his silver fur, slowly letting the frustration drain away. The golden stars in his eyes, and I supposed my own, were nearly identical to the stars of Fate. The Eyes of Fate had allowed me to see only the surface of souls, yet the Oracle of Eternity could penetrate their depths with ease. Besides granting me far more control over my visions–exactly how much was still a mystery–it allowed me a chance to view things I’d never thought possible. Abilities for instance.

My breath caught as an idea forced its way into my mind. An excited tremor ran down my tail, sending it flicking back and forth. Abilities were just mana utilized instinctively by the soul. They were infinitely more complex than regular spells, but why would that make them unique?

The monstrous centipede’s ability had worked by reinforcing its shell with a network of mana. Beyond simply strengthening it to absurd degrees, the ability redistributed the force of incoming attacks throughout the entire carapace, a stunningly effective tactic on a creature so large. Swords worked by concentrating power on a razor edge, so taking that power and spreading it out over hundreds of feet of carapace easily nullified even high-level attacks. If I could somehow replicate that effect in a normal protective spell...

My hand shook as I raised it, pointing at an empty spot in the air. ”Static Aegis.”

The second-circle spell appeared immediately, a glimmering translucent sphere of golden light. Without hesitating, I activated the Oracle of Eternity and studied the circles closely. Aegis was the first fate spell I had ever cast, as familiar to me as the ridges of my horns or the grooves in my staff. Each of the runes was a nexus of mana, bound by tiny threads of light the hundreds of stars in the fabric of fate. The entire world was a single tapestry, beautiful and complex, every star affecting the others.

I withdrew a thread of mana from my soul and, with the delicate skill of a spider, began to weave a new pattern within the Aegis. Each was a network of possibilities, but it quickly became apparent the framework of a simple Aegis spell was too small for what I had in mind.

I paused for a moment, absently running a hand over my horn as I considered the spell. Each rune had a purpose, but many of them simply expanded the magic to its given size, a sort of amplifier for the mana to project around a creature fully. Almost the entire second circle of the spell was composed of these runes, but what if I made them denser?

As I added in more amplifying runes, the golden sphere grew darker and darker, steadily growing more opaque. There came a moment when it wobbled in mid-air, and before I could withdraw my mana, it burst like a bubble. The Aegis shattered into small flecks of light, which dispersed slowly as they drifted toward the ground.

”Ahhh...” I sighed, watching until all the light had faded. It seemed it wasn’t going to be so easy after all.

Time for another approach. The stars of fate weren’t so different from runes, only instead of containing information for a spell, they held reality itself together. Magic took its power from influencing reality, warping it to meet the new rules imposed by the runes.

What the centipede had shown me was that abilities were just like spells, only they used mana to bind together the stars of fate instead of runes. I’d hoped to replicate that by increasing the rune count, but it seemed that reaching a number anywhere close to what the stars of fate offered was impossible. I lacked the skill, and perhaps it was even impossible, to directly bind the stars of fate together, but what if I used them in tangent?

After recasting the Aegis spell, I held my breath and gingerly extended a thread of mana to the nearest star of fate. The last time I’d played with the stars of fate, I’d accidentally opened a gate, but if I were careful...the star flashed faintly as it met the mana, the two fusing together almost instantly.

Without waiting to see whether it would hold, I began weaving the stars together, lacing through the Aegis spell, binding them together. It was hard, tedious work, and a few minutes in, I accidentally touched the wrong rune. The spell flashed unsteadily and collapsed, destroying my hard-won progress in less time than it took me to let out a disappointed breath.

Refusing to get discouraged, I tried again, and again, and...again. Sweat trickled down my forehead and my soul trembled in exhaustion, yet I always managed to muster another thread of mana and begin the process anew. By the time the morning sun broke over the mountains and filtered through the white canvas of my tent, I had failed nearly a dozen times.

”Twelfth time’s the charm,” I muttered, rubbing my hands together. Fable watched me curiously, head canted slightly to the side. His jaws stretched open in a wide yawn and I shot him a glare. ”Oh, shut up. It’s not that boring.”

He snorted and got up, stalking over to the tent entrance. He glanced back at me and whined, pawing against the entrance.

I rolled my eyes. ”Oh, get going already. I’ve only got enough mana for one last try, so I’ll be right behind you. Just try not to eat any of the soldiers.”

After Fable pushed through the entrance, I took a deep breath and focused.

”Aegis!”

Through all of my failures, my ability to control my mana had grown considerably. Whereas I had moved slow and uncertain before, I wove with the speed of a skilled seamstress. Mana flashed in and out of the magic circles, a work far more complex than any spell I’d studied or cast before. After several tense minutes, I laid the final thread and sat back, a satisfied smile twitching across my face.

It was far from perfect, but somehow or another, I’d managed to integrate the centipede’s defensive ability into the Aegis. It was clunky and inefficient, not to mention taking nearly ten minutes to cast, but the technique of merging a spell with an ability was sound. Perhaps after enough practice, I’d even be able to use it practically in combat, or at least training.

Standing up, I stretched and yawned, glancing at the bed, then at the floor where Fable had curled up. Had he still been here, I might have been tempted to just go back to sleep, but the day had truly begun now. The sounds of the camp waking soaked through the canvas, filling the tent with shouts, the clank of pots, and the clash of steel. With any luck, Jackal might be back, and I could finally see Korra.

The thought of my wounded friend wiped the smile off my face, and I quickly pulled a dress on. I hesitated at the tent flap, then sighed and walked over to the bed, sitting heavily. I reached for my mana and gathered just enough to cast a second-circle spell, one I’d seen Elise cast so long ago.

”Mirror.”

An opaque silver circle appeared in the air, showing a perfectly clear reflection of my face. I tapped my spatial ring and withdrew a simple wooden comb, something I’d found while on our adventures near Western University. It wasn’t anywhere as neat as the one Korra used, but it was all I had.

I raised the brush behind my ear and caught a stray curl, then glanced at the mirror and paused, staring at my reflection. How exactly did one brush their hair anyway?

I tried to imagine Korra’s smooth strokes. As promised, she’d brushed my hair every morning after we finished training, yet somehow, I couldn’t remember a single technique. I’d always just relaxed under her soothing touch, content to let a master work.

I flicked my hand and the mirror adjusted its position, giving me a better angle. My lips pressed into a firm line and I moved it again, and almost–almost–pulled the comb through my hair. Then, letting out a short breath, I lowered the comb and glared at my reflection. How was it I could replicate the intricacies of an ability yet not a simple skill like brushing my hair?