The Forsaken Hero

The burden of fate was a heavy one, laying an eternity of weight upon my soul. It had been a long time since I’d attempted to interrupt the normal flow, and both mine and Fable’s souls were considerably stronger. The strain of freeing us both was immediate and overwhelming, and as I fell out from beneath the shadow of Zenit’s blade, I dropped to one knee, a trickle of blood dripping from my nose. I could feel the pressure mounting, not just against my soul, but my body, pushing the Soulbinder, making the threads burn throughout the fabric of my soul.

Fable snarled as he jerked his head back, his teeth tearing through his pauldron and breastplate. Zenith collapsed under his weight, tumoring in slow motion as the wolf bit down again. Sparks flew as his massive maw closed around half of the warrior’s body, one of his canines sinking deep into the ravaged hole in his armor. It was the size of a dagger, ripping through muscle and bone with ease. Droplets of blood filled the air, flung from the wounds. They slowed dramatically as they left Fable’s maw until they hung motionless in the air like painted raindrops.

They struck the ground hard, and a visible tremor ran through Zenith’s body. I gasped as my control wavered, struck by a sudden, powerful will. My lungs burned, struggling to return the breath.

The two bounced from the impact, twisting back into the air. There was another sharp blow, and my control wavered, slipping through my fingers. Zenith’s soul ignited, his movements accelerating. Fable jerked his head from side to side. His bones cracked, his blood spilled freely, but still he gripped his sword. His eyes flared, and suddenly, he was moving. His sword flashed, jabbing up into Fable’s chest, piercing his body and ripping out of his shoulder on the other side. The beginnings of a shockwave gathered around them as his mana detonated, creating a shimmering veil of slowly expanding light that hid them like a curtain.

”Fable!” I screamed, my grip on fate shattering.

The world snapped into place with a sickening lurch. A dozen shockwaves shook the cavern as the energy of every attack was released at once. My wards burned gold as they flared nonstop, the wind whipping my hair into a frenzy. I raised my arms against the glaring light, stumbling back as wave after wave buffeted my wards.

A tremendous aura swept across the cavern, blasting away the light and dust particles, clearing the air. It came from Lusha, her eyes wide, horrified as she looked around in a daze.

I ignored her, frantically searching for Fable. I found him collapsed against the wall on the other side of the shard. He wasn’t moving.

The cavern was enchanted with eighth-level spells, but dark, deep fissures radiated from where he had struck the wall. Blood, too much blood, soaked the obsidian around him, hissing and boiling in the volcanic heat. My heart stopped in my chest as the seconds drew out, and still he didn’t move. The blood spurting from the terrible wound piercing him slowed, his fur growing dull and gray.

But then he took a ragged breath, and I let out a choked sob, sinking to the ground. I felt his soul stir within my mark, small and quiet, but alive. For now. But his wound was too severe, and he’d lost too much blood. I didn’t know the full strength of his regeneration, but no one could survive something like that, right? He was missing half of his chest!

A shaky groan drew my gaze back to Zenith. The warrior knelt on one knee, his sword dropped and forgotten at his side. His arm and half of his upper torso were gone. He clutched at what remained of his shoulder with his remaining hand, but it did little to slow the viscous pulses of blood spraying between his fingers.

”Zenith!”

Panic streaked Lusha’s scream as she ran to his side, all else forgotten. Magic circles lit up the air around her as she pointed her wand at him. I began to make my way toward Fable, determined to crawl to his side if my legs couldn’t manage.

But I stopped, turning slowly to face the ninth-level pair. Green magic flowed over Zenith. The bloodflow had already begun to slow, the inner levels of his bone and muscle beginning to regenerate. I gritted my teeth, my heart aching as I raised my staff, turning from my beloved companion.

I”m sorry,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes.

Lusha stiffened as she felt the sudden swell of mana within my soul, but it was too late. Between the World Barrier and her healing spell, she didn’t have the resources to react fast enough.

”Pyreforge!”

My cry was cracked and hoarse, falling short before it could echo off the walls. As my staff flashed, a fiery red magic circle erupted beneath my feet, releasing a torrent of fire mana into the room. It fell like ash in a wildfire, coating the floors and walls, and climbing the walls in hungry tendrils. It was a simple spell, converting all mana to fire mana, but I hadn’t quite calculated for the mana-rich environment, and cried out as my vision filled with fire.

The air itself began to burn as every trace of mana ignited, creating a puff of fire that washed over everything. I flinched as fire flickered across my skin, but the heat was absorbed by Adaptive Resistance. Even the shard turned red, glowing from within as shimmering flames licked within.

Lusha screamed, recoiling as her circles were tainted, tarnishing until they burned crimson. The soft, comforting light of her healing magic turned harsh and orange. They seared across Zenith’s wounds, charring and melting, filling the air with the stench of burning flesh and cinders.

”What did you do?” she cried, turning to me with her wand raised. The tip shook slightly. ”What did you do to my spell?”

I didn’t answer, keeping my staff level with her. She was faster than me, and cast with more skill, but she was shaken, and I had Adaptive resistance. Fable might be out of the picture, but after the Pyreforge, Zenith wouldn’t be up any time soon. Or so I hoped.

Lusha’s eyes darted around the room. Flames flickered everywhere, rising from the obsidian itself. Her gaze narrowed at me, and she waved her wand. Several magic circles sprang out, and all of the fire mana in the room began to be drawn to ward her, concentrating on the tip of her wand.

”I don’t understand what you’ve done, but if you’re hoping to surpass me with fire, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed,” she said. There was no sign of the warmth or softenss of before, just frozen anger. ”Heaven’s Fire!”

More magic circles formed, and I gasped, my tail stiffening as the rivers of lava turned from their beds, streaming toward her. It condensed in a weave of molten threads around her, absorbing the gathering fire mana until it shone brighter than the sun. It transcended a normal eighth-level spell in strength, but didn’t quite cross the threshold of ninth.

Lusha jabbed her wand in my direction, and one of the coiling threads surged forward, forming a spear aimed at my chest. It moved too quickly to dodge, so I hurriedly threw up a defensive spell, raising a wall of obsidian rock from the ground. The lance poured into it like a river, exploding over the top and smothering me in red. Its silhouette began to disappear within the magic, the stone disintegrating from the absurd temperature.

But it did its job, taking the brunt of the damage and weakening it just enough for Adaptive Resistance to absorb the rest. I used the raging inferno as a cloak, recycling the absorbed mana into another spell. More lances shot toward me, but I waved my staff, something another wall to block them as I completed an eighth-circle spell.

”Orendaclysm!”

Unlike with the gates, I shaped the spell in a blast of raw mana, drawing on the principle of mana storm to unleash a blast of raw, dissonant mana at Lusha. Her wards flared, strong enough that the diffused attack washed off them, but her Heaven’s Fire collapsed, the remaining lances dispersing into very concentrated, if harmless, fire mana.

I let out a pent-up breath as the cavern fell calm again, every threat neutralized. Lusha’s face twisted in frustration, staring at me with a cold fury.

”You are a very dangerous little girl,” she said in a low voice. Her wand twirled in her hand, gathering sun mana. ”It makes me even more eager to hand you over to the inquisitors, but you’ve taken that luxury off the table. Allow me to show you the difference between our abilities.”

I tensed as dozens of magic circles appeared around her, my expression hardening in resolve. If she couldn’t kill me with a single powerful spell, it was only natural she’d try this approach.

”Your Resistance is strong, but from what I’ve observed so far, far from omnipotent. Just that single Heaven’s Fire pushed its limits, I think. Let’s see how long it takes to overwhelm it.”

The first wave of spells completed without warning, unleashing a barrage of sixth and seventh-level spells. They blotted out the cavern, glowing with sunlight, crackling with lighting, freezing with ice, and scorching with fire. My wards flared as the storm enveloped me with enough firepower to level a large city. Adaptive Resistance grew red-hot in a single heartbeat, and I hurriedly redirected the ability away from my soul, canceling the absorption effect. My soul cooled almost immediately as the strain lessened, but still, bit by bit, the onslaught reached my wards. The first crack appeared despite my best efforst or reinforce them, followed by more and more. Panic crept in, and I stumbled away, but there was no escape.

”Die, filthblood,” Lusha’s curse floated over the roar of countless explosions. ”Fall before the might of a ninth-level mage!”