The Forsaken Hero

This was one of those ”growing experiences” Korra was always talking about. The ones that supposedly helped me overcome some trauma or fear but always left me feeling incredibly awkward and usually ended with her laughing at my expense.

That was what I kept telling myself as I surveyed the vast field west of the camp, trying my best to ignore the ten thousand pairs of eyes watching me. I’d expected some soldiers to be interested in the duel, even more so because it involved an apostle, but all of them? Surely they had better things to do than watch two young demonkin try to kill each other.

It was a growing experience, I reminded myself, shooting a glare at Korra. I was acutely aware of my tail flicking back and forth in anxiety. Everyone in the army knew what that meant by now, and my blush only darkened at that thought. I was starting to doubt the sincerity of this ”growing experience.” She just wanted to watch Gayron and me fight. That had to be it.

Still, reluctant as I was, I wasn’t going to squander this opportunity. I preferred practicing my magic in solitude or with my trusted friends. But fighting in real-time put a unique kind of pressure on a mage, forcing them to adapt and stretch just like they would in a life-or-death battle.

I wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t exactly that. My greatest weakness was the Sun God’s curse, which left me vulnerable to even the simplest of attacks. Fable was by my side, ready to protect me, but if one of my wards failed and Gayron didn’t hold back, it could all end there. I wasn’t particularly worried that would happen, but I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind—another drop in the bucket of anxiety.

”Xiviyah, are you ready?”

Bethiv’s voice boomed across the field, a commanding presence that instantly silenced the assembling army. He’d taken charge of the duel the moment he’d heard about it, marking out an arena a little over a thousand feet wide. It would have taken me a few minutes to cross on foot, but against the blinding speed of a seventh-level warrior like Gayron, it felt claustrophobically small. He could be upon me in the blink of an eye.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak. Bethiv turned to Gayron, who was standing entirely at ease. Whereas I wore a simple white dress with a red ribbon sash around my waist, he wore black armor that covered his entire body except his face. He held his longsword in one hand, resting the blade on his shoulder, entirely at ease.

”Just start it already,” Gayron said.

”Very well, this duel shall continue until either side admits defeat. Any actions capable of causing death or permanent injury are prohibited. Begin.”

The moment Bethiv lowered his hand, Gayron swept his sword off his shoulder, the tip aimed directly at me. Five magic circles shimmered into existence around the blade, a wordless incantation hanging heavy in the air.

”Magma Shot,” Gayron said, his voice laced with boredom.

The five magic circles collapsed into one, a singular vortex of energy sliding up the length of his sword. A molten sphere of volcanic fury erupted from the heart of the circle, hurtling toward me with blinding speed. The air shattered at its approach, unleashing a series of deafening shockwaves as it broke the sound barrier.

My eyes widened slightly, a startled twitch running down my tail. I’d never seen Gayron cast a spell before, and he was remarkably adept at it. But to me, it was slow. Too slow.

The moment the first magic circle appeared, I summoned my staff. Less than a heartbeat later, as the runes were slotting into place around his sword, I soul cast a Mirror Sphere. The fifth-circle spell took barely a breath to complete, resolving before the Magma Shot even left his sword.

By the time the attack reached me, I’d soul-cast several other lower-circle spells, like Fire Shield and Aegis, in an attempt to protect myself. Gayron had a few tricks up his sleeve, including two abilities I didn’t fully understand, but the one that truly made me nervous was his aura ability. It wasn’t just suppression; he could generate an inferno that scorched the surrounding area for hundreds of yards. The most terrifying aspect was that it wasn’t entirely magical. It was a real, physical increase in temperature, capable of bypassing Adaptive Resistance.

Gayron’s brow furrowed as ward after ward flickered around me, appearing so rapidly they blurred into a single, shimmering golden aura. His heightened senses proved his salvation, for just then, the Magma Shot collided with my magic.

The deafening toll of a bell reverberated through the air, causing weaker soldiers to wince and clutch their ears. A hastily cast Sound Ward protected mine, allowing me to calmly observe as the surface of the Mirror Sphere rippled, absorbing and deflecting the Magma Shot. Gayron’s lips parted in surprise, but before he could utter a word, his magic ricocheted off the sphere, hurtling back toward him with even greater velocity.

The ground cracked beneath his feet as he threw himself to the side, channeling every ounce of mana to evade the incoming attack. The Volcanic Shot blazed past his head, missing by a hair’s breadth, but the swirling eddies of wind and mana in its wake sent him stumbling backward.

The molten sphere continued its trajectory past him, finally slamming into the side of a distant mountain with explosive force. Earth and fire erupted in a catastrophic display, the ground shuddering violently and nearly knocking me off my feet. As the dust settled, a gaping crater a hundred feet wide marred the mountain’s once-pristine face.

A stunned silence settled in the wake of the aftershocks that rolled across the earth, the weight of ten thousand eyes settling on me. My tail flicked back and forth, and I avoided looking anywhere but at Gayron, who rolled to his feet.

”What the hell?” Gayron muttered, rubbing his head as he slowly rose to his feet.

When his gaze finally met mine again, I flinched, bracing for mockery or even hatred, the usual response whenever I’d challenged his dominance in the past. Instead, his eyes glowed with an unsettling excitement, and his lips twitched into a wide grin.

A shiver ran down my spine, prickling my tail. I knew that look. He wasn’t angry, but for some reason, that didn’t reassure me. Because he was insane. Exactly like Korra.

”Not bad!” he exclaimed, dusting himself off with a flourish. ”I didn’t expect that from someone like you, but I suppose even kittens have claws.”

I glanced at the towering plume of smoke and dust ejected from the Magma Shot’s impact, then at the crowd of soldiers watching us with rapt attention. All of a sudden, a thousand feet felt very, very cramped, especially when I found Sari’s wide, expectant eyes watching me from the front lines. If she’d been standing behind Gayron just now...

My horns itched as a shiver coursed down my spine. ”Gayron, a moment, please.”

Without waiting for his response, I gripped my staff with both hands. I drew in a slow, deep breath, allowing my soul to fill with mana as air flowed into my lungs. I hadn’t tested my limits since healing my soul, and as more and more mana flooded into me, I closed my eyes, bracing for the familiar stab of pain or the burning fire of the sunpurge.

But it never came. After a few heartbeats, I reached my limit. There was no pain, just pressure, and an overwhelming sense of fulfillment. The mana was intoxicatingly sweet and warm, almost too much to bear.

When was the last time I’d managed to saturate myself to this extent? Had it been the first time I’d cast a seventh-circle spell? It felt like a lifetime ago, a distant memory from another life.

Lost in that thought, I began to cast. Runes flickered into existence by the thousands, so small, tight, and perfectly organized that the circles they formed appeared as solid lines. Mana shimmered in the air like water vapor, so thick it was visible to the naked eye. The magic circles gradually expanded as more runes were added, growing from small halos around my body until they filled the entire space designated for our duel.

It wasn’t a spell I had cast before, nor did I have much experience with seventh-circle magic in general. I’d only ever learned Mana Storm, and had cast it only once. But Thron had left me a small collection of tomes and spellbooks, including several high-level fate spells. This was one of them, a seventh-circle spell named ’Bastion.’ I’d spent considerable time studying it, finding it to be the more practical of the options available to me.

Bastion wove together elements of other, weaker Protection magic into a spell capable of withstanding even seventh-level assaults. It was traditionally used to counter large-scale destruction spells, but I had a different purpose in mind.

Both the Western University and Divine Throne had enchanted arenas to protect audience members from the powerful shockwaves of high-level combatants. I’d never had a chance to learn the spells they used, but the principle seemed simple. If a ward could keep things out, couldn’t it also keep them in?