The Forsaken Hero

Levin closed his eyes and embraced his soul, letting mana run through the scarred muscles and veins of his body. The earth about his feet flowed like water, rising up around his body and condensing into gleaming armor. It emanated a powerful aura, that unique to Divine Artifacts. Was this the Earth Hero’s equivalent of the Staff of Fate?

Moving with strength I didn’t know I possessed, I gently lay Korra down and stood on trembling legs. My body was ravaged by the inquisitor’s magic, but I had rejuvenated nearly half of my mana. I wouldn’t die without a fight, not if there was still a chance of saving Korra, or Sari.

”Still intending to resist?” Levin frowned as I summoned my staff, and held out his own hand, conjuring up a giant mace. The head was spiked with cruel flanges and must have weighed more than I did, yet the most intimidating attribute was its aura. Another Divine Artifact. Just how many did the Earth God give him?

”Levin, you can still help me,” I pled, my voice barely above a whisper. ”I don’t want to do this to you, but I will if I have to. I can’t let Korra die.”

”Do what to me? Even in this state, I could defend from multiple seventh-circle attacks. You’re just a slave, Xiviyah, you can’t even use attack magic. Even if you weren’t half-dead on your feet, what could you even do to me?”

”Please...”

Ignoring my plea, Levin began gathering mana in his mace and took a step forward, cracking the ground with his weight. Every fiber of his being was saturated with his mana, making him feel as solid as a fortress. The Earth Hero was meant to be a shield for the others, a stalwart, unshakable defense against anything a demon could throw at him. His absurdly powerful defense and resistance meant his offensive skills were lacking, but he was still a seventh-level hero. In my current state, there was nothing I could do in such a confrontation.

My shoulders sagged as I let out a long, forlorn sigh. ”I’m sorry, Korra. I know he was your friend.”

”What the hell are you going on about?” Levin muttered, then frowned and shook his head. ”Whatever. Just die already!”

As his mace descended toward me, I squeezed my eyes shut and drew upon every drop of mana in my soul. The descending rush of the weapon slowed, then vanished, along with the distant booms of the explosions and the screams of the wounded. The flash of lights dwindled to stillness, and even the acrid scent of smoke faded away.

Gingerly, I lifted an eyelid and peeked up, letting out a soft squeak as I came face to face with a mace the size of my head. After finding it frozen, I let out a sigh of relief and slipped out from under it, gazing around in wonder. The entire world drifted through a sea of stars, a spiderwebbing network of fate and reality. I hadn’t dared enter this world since my fight with the Apostle of Fire, when I inadvertently tore a hole in reality. It had ended up harmless, but the sheer, inexplicable power scared me. But even that fear paled in comparison to what I was about to do.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed away the thoughts and entered a state of extreme concentration, focused on Levin. His soul pulsed faintly a mere foot away, practically coated in the stars of fate. They seemed to gather around beings and items of extreme significance and power, like heroes and Divine Artifacts. I’d often wondered if it was because of the impact and ripples they caused in fate, but now wasn’t the time to consider that.

Slowly, hesitantly, I reached out and laid a hand on his breastplate. With his armor, he towered above me by a full two feet, and I had to strain to reach his heart, the epicenter of his soul.

Feeling the weight of my choice and with some solemnity, I cast a spell, whispering, ”I’m sorry.”

A third-circle spell–Dispel Magic–flashed around my wrist for a heartbeat before resolving. Impossibly fine strands of mana erupted from my open hand and flowed into Levin’s chest, piercing his soul.

Weeks ago, when our lives hang in the balance, I had crippled the Fire Apostle. It was more of an accident than intentional, only working because his soul was filtered into a weaker body, yet I’d been unable to forget the experience. Whereas that had been a rough, hasty act of desperation, this was precise and thorough. Levin’s soul protested, off course, but as fate would have it, I was intimately familiar with him. He himself had removed his defenses and let me in, allowing me to study every nook and cranny in preparation for healing him.

My fingers curled against his chest, constricting the threads. His mana resisted the invasion, and though he was frozen, a silent scream reached my ears. As his soul quivered, slowly giving ground, my tail drooped, and tears came to my eyes.

I’m sorry, Levin. I’m sorry.

It came silently, of course, as sound was lost behind the curtains of fate, yet it echoed in my ears. The sound of breaking glass.

With a heavy heart, I forced myself to look up and witness the moment my mana overwhelmed Levin’s soul. It shuddered once, a final heartbeat, before shattered into countless ribbons of light. The stars of fate connected to his soul spasmed and dispersed, setting off a chain reaction that tore the fragments apart and sundered his very core.

A powerful surge of energy erupted from the collapse, shooting through the frayed remnants of his soul, tracing their way back through my spell. It formed a beautiful, ethereal shockwave of pure, unrefined mana, the same as when I crippled the Apostle of Fire. Was it some sort of backlash?

Regardless of its nature, the shockwave struck me hard, driving me to my knees. I gasped as it swept up my mana and into my soul, igniting the scars and wounds that had yet to heal. The sudden burst of pain broke my grasp over the Oracle of Eternity, severing my connection with fate. The stars faded behind the curtain, but the light remained, blinding even through my tightly shut eyelids.

The entire world jerked as it crashed back into time, a surge of sensations breaking through the utter stillness. The terrible light began to fade, and with it the forces ravaging my soul, but before I could relax, an agonizing scream pierced the air. It wasn’t a scream of rage, or even fear, but of pure, unadulterated pain. It was chilling, and familiar. An expression of agony I had only experienced when the Curse Demon shattered my soul.

My eyes fluttered open as Levin crumpled to the ground, more screams tearing free of his throat. His once proud armor and mace dissolved into a shower of dust, leaving him convulsing on the ground, vulnerable. His eyes, once filled with righteous condemnation, rolled back, the whites stark against his suddenly sallow skin. Spittle foamed at the corners of his mouth, stained with crimson flecks of blood.

He landed hard, first on his knees, then falling to his side. Violent spasms tore through his limbs, his body writhing on the ground. His screams rose in fervor as he sought his soul for strength, finding only an empty void and more pain.

I stared at him, frozen with shock and horror as his neck contorted dangerously, angling his head toward me, and his eyes flitted open for a second, trapping my gaze.

”What did you do to me?” he screamed hoarsely. ”I...I can’t feel it anymore...it hurts! Please, it hurts!”

I took a step back, my tail lashing in agitation. His eyes followed me, stabbing into my heart. It pierced me to the core, an echo of all the darkness I had struggled through, all of the pain and despair that had accompanied my shattered state. I had done this to him. It wasn’t merely infernal corruption that could be healed. This was damnation. The greatest pain a mortal could experience. There would be no salvation, either. Not even a god could heal this wound.

Guilt welled up in my heart, threatening to overwhelm me. The world spun as it combined with my pain and exhaustion, threatening to drive me into unconsciousness. Everything was dark and blurry, and my body cried out for rest, to hide from the pain and guilt. But I couldn’t fall now, not when my work wasn’t finished. Even now, Korra’s chest barely moved, every breath labored and shallow. The High Inquisitor had been right. She didn’t have long.

I tried to stand, but my legs gave out. Fable was beside me in an instant, bringing Korra’s limp, blackened body with him. He wasn’t in any better shape than I was, but with his presence, I was strong enough to cast a final spell.

”Link Ability.”

Thanks to the time I spent studying Levin’s soul, I had a fairly good idea of the framework of his abilities. They were infinitely more complex and nuanced than the Centipede’s protective web, yet I didn’t have to understand them to use this spell.

Abilities were strongly tied to the soul and could only be used through its mana, yet weren’t wholly reliant on it for existence. Fortunately for us, his abilities had survived the destruction, though he would never be able to draw on them again. The hardest part was finding the right fragment among the tangled remnants of his soul.

After several tense seconds, I found the threads of magic I was looking for. Groaning with the effort, I raised my hand and started modifying the spell, running through a dozen iterations before settling on one that felt plausible.

With bated breath, I looped Korra’s soul in the spell and activated the final runes. My tail flicked back and forth as the circles resolved, and a burst of mana flowed through the link. Still unconscious, Korra gasped and twitched as the unfamiliar power flowed into her soul and then spread throughout her body.

Almost immediately, she took a deep breath and the horribly, blotchy darkness began to fade from her skin. Every heartbeat sent fresh, untainted blood shooting through her system, driving the foul poison away. It had worked. The spell had worked!

I sagged in relief, falling limp against Fable. Korra shifted in her sleep, looking more and more herself with every passing moment. My gaze wandered onto Levin, who had finally succumbed to the pain and sunk into unconsciousness. His final question lingered in my mind, sending fresh waves of guilt and condemnation deep into my heart.

But, gazing down at Korra, I would have done it again. I would protect her, and all of those whom I loved, no matter the cost. To me, her life was priceless. Levin’s...was not.