The Forsaken Hero

What remained of Rash’alon’s horde dominated a stretch of plains nearly a mile across, ranging from seventh-level behemoths to first-level scions. Almost every demon’s soul was shrouded in curse mana, but there were a fair number of fire and blade demons betwixt them. All of the demons bore unfamiliar marks, even the curse ones.

”A collection of all who wouldn’t accept the young apostle’s mark,” Fyren murmured.

If Luke’s demons had been restless, this horde was near riotous. Scions fought openly, rolling in snapping, snarling balls of teeth and scales. A fourth-level evolved demon tore a group of scions apart with a casual flick of its claws, splattering the withered grass in blood. I flinched at the violence, gripping Fable’s fur.

”I-is it because he’s dead?” I asked timidly.

Fyren chuckled, shaking his head. ”No, this is the typical state of a horde. Remember what I said about how demons change to reflect the one who holds their mark?”

I nodded, the strange developing mannerisms of our own forces coming to mind.

”The hordes you’ve seen until now have been led by mortals. Even the brutal Apostles–” he flashed a grin at Luke, ”Even you are rather tame compared to the typical demon. It’s actually impressive that the demon lords overseeing this horde managed to keep it so contained. This many demons would normally spill out over almost a hundred miles, always hunting for something to consume or fight unless strictly ordered otherwise.”

”Do you know who might be responsible for that?” Jessia asked, suddenly popping into our conversation.

Fyren frowned at her. ”Watch yourself, apostle. There’s no reason to startle the Oracle.”

Jessia stuck her tongue out, and his frown deepened.

”Um, do you?” I asked hesitantly.

Fyren’s face softened. ”Naturally. There are very few demon lords I’m not aware of.”

”And yet you’re willing to let me come,” I said. ”Aren’t you worried they might try something?”

He raised an eyebrow. ”Oh? Regretting sneaking into the apostle’s horde now?”

I cringed, staring at my lap. ”I...I’m sorry, you were right. I just didn’t think...no, there’s no excuse. I should have trusted you.”

Fyren’s laugh took me by surprise, and I looked up with wide eyes. He patted my leg, smiling faintly.

”There’s no reason to apologize, for there were risks with either choice. You could have risked your mission to secure your safety, but you chose to risk your safety for your mission. And, in the end, things worked out. They always seem to, around you. I’ve almost given up worrying, at this point.”

”That’s for sure,” Jessia muttered. ”I still don’t understand how you escaped my plot in Brithlite. It was perfect.”

”What were you even trying to accomplish?” I asked.

She blinked. ”Huh?”

”You wanted to capture me. Why?”

”Oh, that.” She smiled mischievously. ”There were certain...secrets I had to acquire. Bringing you to that Alverin fellow seemed like the quickest option.”

My breath caught. ”Luke...he didn’t know about that, did he?”

She patted the air dismissively. ”Obviously not. This was waaay before he put you off limits.”

I glanced at Luke, who was speaking with Constance in front of us. They were both glaring at an evolved demon blocking our path some distance ahead.

”What did you want from him? I asked in a small voice. ”He...he was an enemy, right?”

”Friend, foe, who cares? Everyone has secrets.”

She slid a ring off her hand, balancing it vertically on her index finger. I recognized it as the magic item they used to teleport, though I’d rarely seen them use it. Luke had been evasive the one time I’d asked about it, refusing to let me study its enchantments.

Jessia continued, ”I couldn’t care less about Alverin the King. There was another side of him that was much more interesting.”

She flicked the ring in the air and caught it again. It disappeared down her sleeve, leaving only a trace of its powerful magical residue behind.

”I think that’s enough hints for you. Secrets are no fun if you find them out too easily. Oh, looks like there’s trouble. I’d better make myself scarce.”

Giving me one last wink, Jessia vanished in a puff of shadows. I started to turn, thinking she’d returned to the other apostles, yet froze as a wave of aura rolled over us.

A seventh-level curse demon that had been waiting for us blocked our path. It was tall and spindly, shaped like a hunched-over, if emaciated, bear. Its face was more humanlike, but its fangs protruded beneath sallow lips, dripping with black venom. Various curses wound across its limbs in dark ribbons, printed on its flesh like tattoos.

The demon bellowed a savage roar, and I realized with a chill that it wasn’t one of the intelligent ones. A pack of snarling scions and lesser evolved demons stalked behind it, tussling with anything that got too close.

”Move, demon,” Luke said, stepping in front of our small party.

The curse demon roared again, passing so it could look past Luke, its eyes finding me. Its eyes narrowed. The intensity of its hunger stole my breath and raised goosebumps along my arms.

Fable tensed, and Fyren’s hand fell on the ornate hilt of his crimson sword. His eyes, however, were fixed on Luke.

”Constance, get this filth out of my way,” Luke growled.

The blade apostle’s eyebrows rose. He glanced back at me, and a smile split his face.

”With pleasure.”

The demon roared and lunged toward me. I bit back a scream, hunching low over Fable’s back. I could feel the wolf’s muscles bunching under his pelt, but before he moved, a loud clang pierced the air.

I peeked over Fable’s shoulder, eyes widening. Constance stood only a dozen feet in front of us, holding the Demon’s paw by the wrist. Their muscles bulged as both flooded their bodies with mana, but Constance didn’t budge. With his other hand, he calmly reached over his shoulder and grasped the hilt of his broad sword. It left its sheathe with a shrill, metallic screech.

The demon’s nostrils flared. It swiped at him with its other claw, landing a solid blow against his neck. I winced, averting my eyes, only for another clash to bring me back. The demon’s claws sparked against Constance’s bare skin, which had turned silver, like steel.

The curse demon roared and unleashed a blast of curse magic through its claws. Black runes crawled across Constance’s flesh. He winced, the ground cracking beneath him, but before they could eat through his defenses, his sword descended. It drew a silver arc through the demon, bisecting it from the shoulder through its thigh. The blade plunged into the ground, coming to a quivering stop several feet deep.

The demon staggered back, blood soaking its fur. It opened its mouth in one final roar, but froze midway through, falling into two pieces. Black blood sprayed in the air, drifting across the pack of scions. They froze, staring at Constance.

Luke threw his hand forward, releasing a spray of black bullets. They darted forward, landing on the pack with hissing sounds. The scions scattered but, one by one, collapsed. Whatever curse Luke cast on them burrowed into their souls, rooting out their core mana and killing them almost instantly.

Constance stood proud for a second, then suddenly slapped his neck. ”Damn, that stings,” he muttered.

Moving without thought, I urged Fable to his side. The apostle was tall, a head above me, even though I sat on Fable’s back. I reached up, touching his neck. He went totally still, following me from the corner of his eye.

His skin was hot and smooth to the touch, like metal that had been left out in the afternoon sun. The bear demon’s curses were simple but powerful, corroding the silver sheen. It ate away at already burning the mana of his own ability as fuel. Already, patches of his skin were bloody and raw, like the edges of fabric mice had been chewing on.

”Liberation,” I breathed, bathing him in golden light.

The strands of curse magic evaporated. Constance sighed, sagging in relief. The metallic pallor left his skin, revealing the full extent of the curse’s damage. Before I could soul cast a healing spell, new pink skin came up beneath it, pushing aside the ruined tissue like he was shedding hair. I blinked in surprise. His regeneration was almost as powerful as Fable’s.

”Thanks,” he said, turning to face me. ”I might resist most of it, but even I can’t shrug off a seventh-level curse demon.” He chuckled and shook his head. ”I still can’t believe you can heal curses like that. And your hands are soft–”

His jaw clicked shut as he caught sight of something over my shoulder, and he turned with a cough.

”Yes, thank you, Xiviyah,” Luke said.

I jumped slightly, my heart skipping a beat. When had he gotten so close? He was frowning, too, looking at Constance for some reason. Maybe he had been worried about him, too.

”Forgive me, I should have foreseen something like that happening,” Luke said.

Luke’s eyes softened as he looked at me. I flushed slightly, my face feeling warm for some reason.

”I-it’s alright,” I stammered, looking down. I picked at my sleeve.

Evla shook her head. ”You two...”

”Right.” Luke straightened, his tail twitching slightly. ”That demon was unmarked. Pity. I’d have liked to know who sent it after us.”

”Probably a test, to see how you’d react,” Fyren said. ”Though I’m rather disappointed. He, at least, should know better than that. They all should.”

”Who?” I asked.

Fyren pointed, the corner of his lip raised in a smirk. ”Them.”