The Forsaken Hero

As the army began its march, I turned to R’lissea, who walked beside me. ”What did Fyren leaving have to do with us passing near a city with a shard?”

She glanced up, her brow furrowing slightly as she considered the unexpected question. After a moment, she nodded, her expression softening. ”I suppose you never did it much, so you wouldn’t have thought of it. Heroes use the shards to teleport around, remember? That’s how we were able to keep on top of all the demon gates.”

”You mean they’ll send a hero for me?” I shuddered, the image of Soltair flashing through my mind.

”I doubt it,” she reassured me. ”With Levin and Victor gone and with me, Grace and Korra no longer helping, there aren’t enough heroes left. It’s just Soltair, Alex, Connor, Ronin, and Verity. Soltair was supposed to go to the southern continent and clean up the rest of the demon hordes there. Ronin will be in the Blacksand Empire, but the rest are probably doing as much as possible to clean up gates and keep more demons from spilling into the world.”

”So who might they send to capture me?” I pressed.

She shrugged. ”The ninth-level mages and warriors are too valuable to mobilize for something like this. They all guard key resources and cities where their absence could be exploited. I imagine they have a few elite units of seventh or eighth-level beings, but I doubt it’s too many. There are only a handful of such people in the world, so risking more than one squad on a mission like this would be too risky.”

”Inquisitors?” I asked.

”Perhaps,” she conceded. ”But more likely just people like Royal Guards or legendary mercenaries.”

I nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. While eighth-level souls were formidable opponents, it was comforting to know we had a fighting chance. And, from the sound of it, every mage or warrior of that level we defeated would weaken the overall combat power of the world, making it even harder for them to target me in the future.

With that off my mind, we quickly turned to discussing magic. At first, we helped Elise practice a few sixth-circle spells, but as the days passed, we turned to developing the two spells R’lissea and I had created. Requiem was still in its experimental stages, but we succeeded in melding the various aspects of healing the body and soul of sunpurge and corruption together into a sixth-circle spell. It wasn’t nearly as efficient as I liked, but with R’lissea’s experience and my knowledge of runes, we made some decent progress on creating a chant.

Celestial Grace, our other creation, presented a different challenge altogether. We unanimously agreed that developing a chant for it would be reckless. Unleashing such a potent spell upon the world, making it readily accessible to any mage, was simply too dangerous.

R’lissea and Elise had already pushed their combined abilities to the limit working with the spell while I slept, so I took the reins, delving deeper into the intricacy of the runes and circles. They had done well to even create this much. Still, their limited skills and knowledge had prevented them from fully exploring the spell’s multifaceted nature, and I was determined to unlock its full potential.

I quickly discovered the need for variations of the spell. Using a sixth-circle spell to amplify a first-circle technique was a gross misuse of mana. By the time we approached Tormod’s Breach, our intended destination, I had developed three distinct versions: one for third-level spells, one for fifth, and a final, seventh-circle iteration that was still under development. Each variation retained the core function of boosting techniques and spells, but with the mana flow and effects tailored to their respective levels.

Tormod’s Breach, a vast valley cleaving through the formidable Tormod Mountain Range, dominated the horizon. The mountains themselves were a series of steep, rugged peaks, rising like jagged teeth against the sky. As we drew closer, their scale became apparent, rivaling the towering heights of the mountains that shielded Heartland from the outside world.

These mountains were a natural barrier between the Ingrid Alliance and the Blacksand Empire, virtually impassable except for a few key valleys like the Breach. While magic could have overcome this obstacle, and the demons were undeterred by such terrain, the harsh winter conditions would have made any such attempt a costly endeavor. The treacherous snows and territorial monsters alone would likely claim hundreds of weaker scions, not to mention the potential for ambushes and strategically triggered avalanches by the Empire.

Tormod’s Breach, the largest and most accessible of these valleys, presented the ideal passage for an army. Historically, relations between the Ingrid Alliance and the Empire had been fraught with tension, leading both sides to construct fortresses to guard their respective territories. The Alliance’s keep would have been as formidable as Whitecliff City, but with any luck, Luke’s lightning advance through the Alliance had left them no time to reinforce it.

”There it is!” Elise said, pointing above the heads of the evolved demons marching before us in the column.

The towering cliffs of Tormod’s Breach loomed above us, revealing the intricate fortifications embedded within their rocky embrace. The keep, carved into the southern face of the valley, was a formidable network of earth and stone, boasting towering spires and impossibly thick walls. A lower, less imposing wall spanned the mouth of the valley, punctuated by turrets that housed magic cannons, their glowing crystal tips projecting an ominous aura.

The fortress’s design clearly prioritized defense against attacks from within the valley. However, mages and engineers had worked tirelessly to reinforce its vulnerable exterior. Staircases that once clung to the outer walls had been destroyed and rebuilt within the valley, creating an oddly unfinished aesthetic.

A small city sprawled behind the fortress, occupying the space between our advancing army and the imposing walls. A small wall encircled its outermost edges, but it looked as though it would crumble under the weight of the larger, evolved demons. Surprisingly, the city still bustled with activity, its inhabitants seemingly unfazed by our approach. I had expected to see a panicked exodus, a desperate stream of refugees fleeing along the mountain border, but they seemed content to continue their daily lives.

”Not very viable,” R’lissea murmured, her lips pressed into a thin line. ”They could never withstand a siege.”

I glanced at her, puzzled, and she offered a helpless shrug.

”In a normal war, no army would attempt to take such a fortress head-on,” she explained. ”Instead, they’d surround it and cut off its supplies. Magic can mitigate such tactics, but conjuring enough food for that many people is incredibly difficult. Normally, this fortress has the entire kingdom supporting it, but if the demons wanted to, they could easily burn the city and starve the defenders. Their only escape route would be into the mountains, a death sentence in this season.”

I couldn’t help but stare at the normally timid elf. She had described such a brutal tactic with chilling detachment, as though explaining the life cycle of a flower. I hadn’t witnessed her in battle more than a handful of times, but I felt a pang of the same intimidation I had experienced around Korra. The other heroes possessed a depth of combat experience that dwarfed my own. Even R’lissea, who hated conflict, was intimately familiar with such ruthless strategies.

”I’m curious, though,” R’lissea added, absently twirling a strand of hair around her finger. ”Why haven’t they evacuated the city yet?”

I exchanged a worried look with Elise, my apprehension mirrored in her eyes. She quickly averted her gaze, her hands clutching her skirt. My hand also twitched as I felt the same instinctive fear, but I stilled them and looked at the elf. She had to know.

”They don’t want to,” I said quietly.

”What?” R’lissea exclaimed, her eyes widening in disbelief. ”But surely they know the demons won’t spare them!”

I shook my head, my heart growing heavier with each word. ”It doesn’t matter to them. I pray I’m wrong, but...”

”...they might be cursed,” Elise whispered, finishing my thought. ”Gods, I hope that’s not the case.”

”But I thought you killed Alverin,” R’lissea said, her ears drooping. ”Wasn’t the Circle destroyed?”

”Alverin was only a pawn,” I explained in a whisper. ”A monster, yes, but a pawn nonetheless. I spoke with the god who allowed them to use the shards to power their magic, and it seemed to be something his faction was actively supporting.”

”You spoke with a god? No, you know what? That doesn’t even surprise me. But is there even a shard here? I can’t sense one,” R’lissea murmured, her voice laced with concern.

”That’s what worries me most,” I admitted. ”They might have found a way to use the curse without a shard.”

A heavy silence fell over us, the grim implications of my words hanging in the air. R’lissea finally broke the silence, shaking her head. ”My god hates this. He allowed me to help you and keep my magic because he wants me to stop it. I can feel it.”

”Fate mentioned there were many gods who were against it,” I said, my tail twitching as I considered the complexities of the situation. ”I was hoping that destroying the Circle would be the end of it, but there must not be enough opposition in the council yet.”

”But why?” Elise suddenly burst out, tears welling in her eyes. ”Why do the gods even care? Why do they want to hurt us so much?”

”They want faith,” I said. When she looked at me, I ran a hand over my horn, heart heavy. ”If they control someone’s desires, they can force them to worship the gods. It isn’t as effective as genuine devotion, but the power it grants them is undeniable. The Divine are no different from the other gods. They only care about power, and if they have to ruin a world to get it, they will. The demons burn, and now, some of the gods want to enslave.”