The Forsaken Hero

A wave of green light erupted from R’lissea’s staff, washing over the faltering guardian. The corrupted stone and withered vine that marred its form ignited with verdant power. Decaying stone and rotted roots sloughed off. The loss of so much material left the elemental misshapen and unbalanced, barely half its original size. But what remained was pure and saturated with life energy, pulsing with the heartbeat of the city.

The light in its core grew brighter. I shifted as I felt a subtle tug on my wards, my tail twitching with confusion. The force grew stronger, centered on the elemental. It couldn’t withstand the pressure, and with a shuddering groan, it caved. Cracks spiderwebbed across the countless buildings, the limbs deforming. Stone and earth, roots and towers, the entire guardian collapsed in on itself.

I gasped as the light intensified, drawing the mass into the air. Rubble streamed in flowing rivers of stone and biomass, amalgamating into a seething mountain. It continued to condense, forming a rugged spherical shape three hundred feet across.

R’lissea hovered above it, a single mote against the mountainous mana gathering around her. With a final, defiant cry, she thrust her staff downward.

It struck like a hammer from the heavens. The meteor of condensed life mana descended with terrifying speed, a roaring, verdant star falling upon a city of death. Connor, a defiant speck of black against the onrushing emerald, raised his scythe, gathering the entirety of the Black Mist into a shield of swirling shadow. He vanished beneath the immensity of R’lissea’s attack.

”Grand Aegis!” I cried, soul, casting the seventh-level spell in the nick of time.

Scarcely had the shining golden barrier appeared around the city, trapping it in a bubble, than the meteor landed. A literal wall of concussive force erupted from the impact point, scouring the earth and blasting the skies. It slammed into my wards with the force of a seventh-level spell and cracked the Grand Aegis like a pane of glass. And then the meteor exploded.

Chunks of earth, stone, and root rained from the sky. Towers, walls, and even entire cobblestone courtyards were turned into shrapnel, obliterating swathes of the city as they crashed down. Fyren blurred, releasing an art that consumed a length of root the size of a house before it could strike us.

I cried out, my nails digging into Luke’s arm, as the emerald shockwave engulfed us. The air crackled with life energy that seeped through my wards, invigorating my trembling muscles. My tail flicked, uncertain whether to lash or curl, as I watched in awe. Where the verdant wave passed, the Risen crumbled like ancient parchment touched by flame, their forms dissolving into nothingness. The black mist itself recoiled, burning away like morning fog before the rising sun.

The light faded slowly, but visibility didn’t improve. The air was choked with ash and smoke, the sun a faint suggestion of light overhead. A sea of dust, dancing with eddies of life magic, washed around my knees, obscuring the ground like morning mist. I took a step and paused, staring dumbly down. The ground wasn’t hard like stone should be, but soft, with a little give. I released a small pulse of my aura, blasting the dust and debris from the hollowed cathedral, and let out a sharp gasp.

The tile and stone had cracked and sunken, and were overgrown by short, brittle grass and spring flowers. A tree had sprouted where the shard had once floated, almost thirty feet tall. Its roots were a tangled mass, sprawling over fallen chunks of masonry and creeping up the walls like vines. Little pink flowers blossomed along their length, glowing slightly.

”The hell?” Gayron muttered, squatting beside a small bush. ”Where did this all come from?”

I straightened, turning sharply to the gaping hole in the chapel. I circled the tree and reentered the sea of dust and light, wading through it. My companions hurried to follow me, pushing the clouds back with their auras.

Slowly, as the dust began to settle, the city revealed itself. The hollow shells of buildings, swallowed by vines, trees, and lichen, rose from beds of grass and overgrown gardens. It was like looking at the ruins of a long-lost city now reclaimed by the land it once ruled. There was no sign of the Risen, Connor, or R’lissea.

That it was a battle that had destroyed the place was evidenced only by the craters dotting the streets and alleys, the collapsed buildings, and the bits of what had once been the castle strewn everywhere. More than once, Luke offered me his hand, helping me over a battlement blocking the street, or Korra blasted apart a tower that had collapsed in our way.

It was quiet and peaceful. Reverent, even.

”Where are we even going? Why don’t we just fly?” Luke asked.

”We’d be blind up there,” I said, gesturing at the sky.

”Still beats walking.”

”You can wait in Haven, if you’d like.”

He chuckled, reaching out and taking my hand. ”It’s not so bad. Not if we get to enjoy it together.”

I smiled up at him, my ears turning red as Korra snorted behind us.

It didn’t take long for us to reach our destination--the heart of the city. Where the castle had once stood was now just a crater. Almost a quarter mile wide, and half as deep, like a giant had taken a bite out of the city. Pieces of buildings, walls, and towers were scattered within, all originating from the castle, but there was no sign of the life that flourished without.

Black Mist filled the crater, as cold and dark as the rest of the city was warm. The light of the Effulgent Dawn didn’t penetrate its depths. I hesitated on the rim, my tail twitching around my legs.

”They’re in there?” Korra asked, peering down with a furrowed brow. ”R’lissea too?”

I nodded, and she shrugged, hopping off the ledge and landing some ten feet below. I shivered, gripping Luke’s arm. He took the hint and picked me up, following after her.

The walls of the crater were rugged and uneven, broken by the occasional cliff and rubble. The light above vanished as we descended, and more than once, I lifted the Aetherial Prism, using it to light the darkness even my eyes couldn’t penetrate. Not that it did much against the black mist. It writhed with hostility, thick and heavy against my skin. At times, it seemed almost sentient, recoiling from us in fear as it recognized my aura, only to roll back in and try to swallow it.

At last, the ground leveled out, and the darkness gave way to gentle green light. It was like stepping into a bubble. One moment, I couldn’t see Korra three steps ahead, the next we were in a cavern with walls of billowing darkness. It spanned a hundred feet across, enveloping the remnants of what had once been the throne room. Pillars of graying marble broken off in jagged ends framed a cracked dais. In the center, decrepit and sagging, was the throne.

Two figures were before it, opposed to each other. R’lisesa standing, and Connor kneeling. The undead hero’s clothes were tattered, wet with blood from dozens of cuts. He stared dully at the ground.

R’lissea fared no better. Tattered remnants of her dress hung in strips, barely covering her bruised form. Her staff drooped in her grip, held limply in both hands. Blood snaked a sluggish path down her arm, glistening as it reached her trembling fingers.

”Is this what you dream of, Connor?” R’lissea asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. ”Is this the kingdom you imagined when you raised the first Risen? Is that the throne you wanted?” She tilted her head, gazing at the dais. Her lips drew into a line. ”A throne of death, of pain, of suffering?”

”Death...You still don’t see it, do you? Death is as vain as life. The cycle...how can you bear it? How can you stand the futility of it all?” Connor asked, a small spark of defiance returning to his eyes.

”R’lissea!” Korra cried, running over to her. She grabbed her by the shoulders, looking her over. ”Are you hurt?”

R’lissea sagged, relief filling her exhausted face as she slumped forward, resting her head on Korra’s shoulder. ”I’m alright. I think. Is everyone else? IS Xiviyah okay?”

”I’m here,” I said, walking toward them, my eyes on Connor.

The undead hero looked up at the sound of my voice, his eyes flicking over my shoulder, at where Fyren trailed after me. He took a breath, and his jaw firmed. He rose to his feet, using the long haft of his scythe for support.

”You think you defeated me? You may have destroyed my forces, but I raised the horde once. I’ll have no problem doing it again. What was that land you loved? Heartland? Perhaps I’ll visit them next. Show them the power that comes from being my slaves.” He straightened, and even in this state, I could feel the oppressive nature of his aura.

R’lissea’s eyes narrowed, and she pushed away from Korra. ”What are you doing? You lost!”

”I’m the master of undeath! Second only to my god and his arbiters. Even if you kill me, which I know you don’t have the resolve to do, do you think that would stop me? I’ve already laid the foundation to ascend as a lich. Slay me, take my body, the last thing that connects me to the living, and I’ll unleash a plague that will rot the very soul of this world!”

R’lissea stared at him, her expression faltering. She looked like she was about to cry, and I didn’t feel far from tears myself. This was nothing like the Connor I’d spoken to before. I didn’t know if he could do that, but after everything he’d done, I didn’t doubt he had the power. But...

Again, Connor’s eyes flicked to Fyren. His hands clenched into fists, a tremor running through him.

”I’ll do it! I’ll kill them all!” he cried, a desperate note reaching his voice.

He took a threatening step, but his leg buckled, and he fell to one knee, face white with pain. ”Please...” he whispered, looking at me, pleading. ”Don’t just kill me. Don’t make me come back.”