The Forsaken Hero

It was only the second time I’d been here; the first had been at the side of Fate, but I held no hesitation. There was only one way to go, one hallway that seemed to progress forever. Doors lined the walls, each holding the shrine of a hero behind it. I passed them by without looking, and soon, they all began to blur together.

As I descended staircases, the darkness seemed to grow deeper, the walls tighter, and the air harder to breathe. By the time I reached the final room, I was trembling, panting erratically.

But there she was with her back to me, standing in the center, in the room of the Beginning. I practically ran forward, desperate to free myself of the suffocating passage.

Fate turned as I stumbled into the room, her dress sweeping over the floor. She caught me as I ran into her.

”Careful, child,” she murmured, balancing me on my feet. ”You’ve come here with a heavy heart. No need to burden yourself with a sprained ankle.”

”He left,” I choked, blinking tears back furiously. ”Luke left me!”

”All that hiding, the lies, only to let it out now?” She sighed, caressing my cheek. ”Xiviyah, do you want me to hold you? I will, if you desire it.”

My hands twitched, my every instinct urging me to fall into her arms and let her stroke my hair and murmur soothingly into my ear. But instead, I bit my lip, shaking my head.

”I’m alright. I was just frightened before. I can handle it.”

She smiled warmly, proudly, and for the first time since Luke had knocked on my door, warmth blossomed in my breast.

”Is he really gone?” I finally asked.

”Perhaps. But then again, perhaps not.” This time, her smile was frustratingly vague.

”Why couldn’t he just stay? Or take me with him? We were getting so close. He loved me. He said he did,” I admitted.

”Love, hmm?” Her eyes twinkled. ”The question of love is one trillions of mortals have asked before you. It puzzled everyone from the youngest maiden to the wisest sage. Do you really think you’ll find the answer, or understand the mortal heart, when all of them failed?”

”You mean I can’t know?” My expression sank. ”But I already trusted and believed. I’ve already taken the risks you talked about. And I was so happy. I even kissed him.”

”Did you think there was a time you no longer needed to walk by faith?” she asked.

It was gentle, but the rebuke stung. I lowered my head, mumbling, ”I hoped there was.”

”I’m afraid that’s one thing I can confirm for you, then. From the beginning of the end, from one life to the next, the future isn’t written. It’s sure, but it hasn’t happened. There is nothing that can’t change. Not anything or anyone, nor mortal or immortal. There is nothing that operates outside of Fate and Oblivion.”

”I know, it’s just...” I let out a sigh. ”I hoped it wouldn’t. Do you think he’ll come back?”

”Did he give you a reason to doubt him?”

I shook my head.

”Then believe him.” Her voice was as soft as starlight, her thumb still stroking my cheek. ”You know better than most how precious a single light can be when all else has gone dark. And how much you yearn for it once it’s gone. Do not underestimate yourself, little one.”

”What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

She only smiled. ”You’ll see.”

Her gentle words soothed my wounded soul, reducing the hollowness from a devouring gnaw to a dull ache. Still there, still empty, but bearable. I took a deep breath, let it out, and straightened my tail.

”What are you doing here?” I asked, letting my gaze stray around the room.

Like the chapel, this room was tall and spacious, with arched ceilings and no exits. The murals covering the walls were bright and perfectly detailed, so vivid and real they seemed poised to move at any moment. The picture of the Father, with countless immortal souls streaming from his back like wings. The second of the beginning of the Cycle, when God and Emperor separated, claiming the souls of mortals and demons. And the third, the first war.

”Why do you come to Haven?” she asked, her hand dropping from my face. She walked slowly, viscerally toward the first painting, stopping before the image of the Father. She half raised her hand, but stopped just shy of touching his face, before letting it fall to her side.

”It’s safe here,” I murmured, trailing after her, a question on my lips.

Before I could ask, she turned back to me, wearing a small, sad smile. ”This place is the same for me, I suppose. The Hall of the Beginning. The closer we come to Oblivion, the more I’m drawn back here.”

I got the feeling she meant more than this room.

”You loved him?” I asked, looking up at the Father. His appearance was impossible to characterize, always changing, yet always the same. Only his eyes remained constant, and as before, I got the distinct feeling he was aware of me. Like he’d seen through time, space, and Fate itself to this moment. For some reason, my eyes misted over, warmth filling my chest.

”Love?” Fate let out a low chuckle. ”Not as you might Luke. More like...hmm...it seems you’ve never experienced anything like it in your short life. The closest thing might be your relationship with Thron. But even that fails to compare.”

”Oh.” I looked down for a moment before returning my gaze to the mural. ”Do you miss him?”

”Yes, though not in a way a mortal could understand. His presence filled eternity. There was nowhere he wasn’t. All encompassing, all understanding. All loving.” She whispered that last part reverently. ”But now, all that I have of him resides within you. Your Divinity is all that remains.”

She reached up, and this brushed the wall, running her hand along the crest of the Father’s left wing, tracing a bright, golden soul. Her soul.

The Fate in the image was bright and joyous, beaming a radiant smile. She was one closest to the Father, a feather in his wing, closest to his shoulder.

Fate’s hand strayed, tracing across the image. Directly across from her, on the right wing, so close they touched, was another soul. This one was as dark and cold as she was light and warm. Not the violet of a curse, or the black of a shadow, but a void emptier than the hollow in my chest. As her fingers moved over him, I realized they were holding hands. A subtle detail hidden within the glory of the painting, where light and dark, a beginning and an end, came together. Fate’s hand trembled, a touch of sorrow hidden in her eyes.

But then it was gone. She turned back to me, letting her hand drop from the mural. I looked up at her, feeling the urge to cry, but not really understanding why.

”Your soul is troubled, even more than your heart is.”

I nodded, sniffling, and wiped the excess moisture gathering in my eyes away with my sleeve. ”I don’t understand why. I can’t control my aura. It spills everywhere, touching everything. I thought the Soul Binder would help me control it, but everything’s just gotten worse.”

”It’s not your fault, but the burden you carry within. No mortal was meant to hold a Divinity, and certainly not for as long as you have. It’s touched your mana, your magic, changing you. The stronger you get, the more it resonates, the more its influence seeps into your soul. Right now, you stand between the realm of mortal and immortal, while not quite being either.”

”So...I’m like some sort of elemental?” I asked.

She smiled, shrugging her shoulders. ”Perhaps, but more like a demon, if I had to compare it. You and the Devoted are going on this journey together, becoming something no one else has ever become. Torn between two marks...becoming more than either.”

”Marks?” My eyes widened. ”But...I haven’t accepted any marks! And Fyren said demons can only have one mark at a time.”

”Perhaps, and yet here you stand. Infernal and Divine. Even your blood, child, testifies as such. That it would happen this way, just when I needed you...” She hummed softly. ”Fate truly has a sense of humor.”

I touched my horn self-consciously, my tail twitching. That I couldn’t deny.

”So what do I do? I can’t go around like this,” I said, gesturing at myself. ”Every thought, every feeling...Even Enusia seems to feel it, though not as much as Haven.”

”Yes, that is a problem,” she mused, rubbing her chin, studying me like I was some interesting specimen. ”There’s no easy way to say this, but you need to learn to control your aura, rather than suppressing it. To shape it, to guide it. You can’t just hide from it, from yourself. And to do that, you need to be even stronger.”

”But that would just make it worse!” I protested. ”The only time it gets better is when I expend all my mana, like with Aerion’s crown, not get even more!”

She shook her head, stern but gentle. ”No, child. Typically, the ninth level is the threshold for developing an attributed aura, like you have. It’s two-fold. That is when a soul attains enough power to actually form an aura. The Divinity within you has manifested that on its own, regardless of your strength. But the second is that the soul of a ninth-level being has the framework for supporting one. Those normally occur at the same time, so there is no issue. But right now, your soul is a bowl that’s overflowed. There’s simply too much mana to contain it within you, so it spills over.”

”So I need a bigger bowl?”

She smiled bemusedly. ”Something like that. And to do that, you’re going to need to break through. You need to become ninth-level.”