The Forsaken Hero

Adaptive Resistance had a limit. Throughout my entire life, that limit had been spell level. But as I’d gained more control over it, pushing it to be more than a simple passive response, my understanding of it had changed. I learned to target specific spells, take the edge off of superior magic, and absorb mana to create self-sustaining wards. Those initial limitations of the circle and level faded away as I overrode the natural order of the ability, turning it into a flexible tool useful in almost every situation, not just the ones that I’d worked up specific resistances against.

And that was why I now panicked. Even though Adaptive Resistance had evolved to give me Resistance against every kind of magic beneath the seventh-level, those very same spells now pushed it to the brink. It was the first time I’d ever found myself in this situation, where countless weak spells threatened me more than a few strong ones. Slowly, the ability overloaded, the channels of mana diffusion clogging from the sheer volume of mana.

”How many more tricks do you have up your sleeve?” Lusha asked.

I gritted my teeth, fighting the small, nagging voice that whispered she was right. Luke was gone, and Fable lay on the ground bleeding out. I’d already called on the Oracle of Eternity, and even if I found the space to activate it again, without Fable, I wouldn’t be able to touch her. Even Pyreforge would be useless now that she knew it was coming. I myself would be able to account for the sudden influx of fire mana, so surely she would be able to as well. So many of my strengths relied on the element of surprise, or at least having a superior knowledge of my opponent. But I hardly knew Lusha. I cursed myself for not bothering NIthalee more about it. Surely she had something she’d forgotten to tell us!

Lusha didn’t leave me alone with my regrets. She waved her hand, and the curtain of magic parted for a split second. I gasped at the reprieve, only to stiffen as a tide of sunlight descended from above, an eighth-circle Solar Flare. Fiery titillations stabbed needles across my skin as it enveloped me, crashing against my wards. I cried out hoarsely, almost dropping my staff.

”Another rumor proven true. Even if it can’t break your wards, Sun Magic is particularly effective,” she said, nodding to herself.

When her assault continued, the attributes of her spells had shifted almost entirely to sun magic. She couldn’t cast eighth-circle spells with any frequency while maintaining the pressure, but even a torrent of lower-level sun spells was unbearable. My skin reddened in places, my soul burning from the inside out as Adaptive Resistance struggled to diffuse so much of an attribute I was weak against. My breath came short and erratic, and my concentration began to slip.

I had to end this. I had to figure something out. Now. Never mind my wards, if Adaptive Resistance overloaded, that much sun mana would crystallize me from the inside out, turning my entire soul into a sea of sunpurge.

I had to end this. I had to figure something out. Now. Never mind my wards, if Adaptive Resistance overloaded, that much sun mana would crystallize me from the inside out, turning my entire soul into a sea of sunpurge. There was only one option left, but taking it meant jeopardizing everything.

”I’m sorry,” I whispered, ”I-I can’t do it alone. Forgive me.”

Lusha’s expression tightened as I lifted my staff. The crystal haft felt impossibly heavy in my trembling hands, but the star embedded within flashed as I redirected my mana into it. My wards cracked at the sudden loss of support, spiderwebbing fractures spreading across their golden surface before some shattered completely, dissolving into motes of light. I tried to picture Emlica’s face, to recall the soothing comfort of her presence, but the image scattered like dust in a hurricane. A desperate plea left my lips, barely audible above the roar of Lusha’s onslaught.

”Please. I need you.”

My aura exploded, the stars forming a vortex around a point in space directly beside me. Always, calling a remnant had been quick, but now, every heartbeat took forever.

”I won’t let you!” Lusha cried.

The world barrier’s oppression suddenly wavered, the magic circle shimmering for a split second. The ground suddenly shook, spraying droplets of molten fire from the lava falls. Lusha frowned, glancing up for a split second before refocusing on me. She raised her wand, and the ruby at its tip shone, filling with her entire, undivided strength.

A hum filled the air, and a single ray of sunlight burst from the tip of her wand. I screamed before it even struck me, starburst flashing across my eyes, blurring everything into white. There was the sound of breaking glass, and then pain exploded across my side. My breath left me in a rush as I was tossed through the air, my staff vanishing from my grip. I spun through the air, eventually slamming into the ground with a sickening crunch, rolling several times before coming to a stop on my back.

Everything hurt. My tail ached with a fury, bent at an awkward angle, a shard of bone protruding between two ridges. But that pain was eclipsed by the burning hole in my side, just above my left hip. Arcs of sunlight twisted across my skin in violent eddies, dancing around a gaping hole that pierced me through, a chunk of flesh the size of my fist gone. There was no blood; the edges of the wound were cauterized by fire and sunpurge. My mana flickered as I lay there, dazed, unable to breathe. The only muscles that seemed to work were the ones that let me curl into a ball, clutching my side and choking on silent screams.

”Oh? You’re still alive?” Lusha’s voice cut through the pain. Through the blinding white, I could vaguely make out her figure bent over me. ”I regret it had to end this way, but I couldn’t allow you to use that strange power.” She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. ”No, not after what happened with the arbiter in Sylvarus.”

I whimpered as an old, wrinkled hand brushed my cheek, lifting a tear.

”You should be proud of yourself, even if your fight were in vain,” she continued. ”I’ll admit you almost managed to break through, very nearly killing Zenith on the way. But, just as I promised, you didn’t. And now, I’m not even sure if I can save you. A pity, but I suppose the church will be delighted to finally have that precious artifact back. The God of Fate has been getting awfully ansty recently, and I’ve tired of hearing his hero’s nagging in council.”

She turned away, sighing. ”All that’s left is to deal with your allies. But they’re scattered around the city, and won’t be much trouble once we get Zenith on his feet. Funny, to think this world has prepared for so long for a war that has ended in a few short minutes. It’s almost too bad, really. I wonder what...”

Her voice grew faint and distant, the brightness of the light dulling as I sank deeper into the pain. A thrill ran through my soul, a warning that I was fading. That I had come to the end of my path.

A...warning?

I blinked, a final spark of clarity shining through the haze. There was only one reason the Oracle of Eternity had activated, one way I could possibly feel the flow of fate again.

”Should I even try?” Lusha was saying, rubbing her chin as she studied my broken body. ”If we’re quick, we might be able to get you to the Throne before you perish, but the nagain, the sunpurge is spreading fast. If you’re not going to be able to share your secrets anyway, I might as well be merciful and end your misery now. All we really need is your staff. Would you like that? To end the pain now? Just nod, and it’ll be over. Otherwise, I think I’m going to try,” she nodded decisively. ”Yeah, definitely. You’re too curious a creature to let go without first learning your secrets.”

I ignored her, closing my eyes as I let the Oracle of Eternity fill me one more time. The pain wavered, disappearing as I sank into the darkness of my soulspace. Distantly, I was aware of Lusha still over me, but time held little meaning here. As had happened in Blacksand, I was free to wander fate. But this time, the weight of inevitability hung over me. No matter how long I spent here, it wouldn’t matter once I returned, or my soul gave out.

But I couldn’t give up. Someway, somehow, there must be a path through this. If fate had left me this one chance, these last few precious seconds, then that meant there was hope. And if not, then... well, I’d come too far for my path to end quietly. I wouldn’t let my star fade until the morning rays forced it from the sky.