The Forsaken Hero

"It will be over soon," Fyren murmured, gazing down as the Solori mountains rolled beneath us.

We flew on Borealis’s back, headed to the inner peaks where High Valley was nestled. There were still millions of demons, but the battle had taken its toll. Korra, Gayron, and Grace had slaughtered dozens of high-level evolved demons, and now that the demon lord of death had joined the hunt for the remainder, it wouldn’t be long before it was just Rash’alon holding the marks of the entire infernal horde.

"Don’t worry. Have faith in your apostle," Verity said, resting a hand on my shoulder.

I looked up at her, giving a tentative smile. My hand curled against the warmth pulsing within my breast, the ring pressing into my palm. It was uncanny how quickly Verity began to guess what I was thinking.

"I don’t have much left in me, either," I said quietly, my eyes turning back to the rolling sea of black flesh beneath. "And there are so many demons. Even if Luke wins...will they follow?"

"Most will," Fyren answered. "Demons follow whoever holds their mark. They cannot exist without one for long. Even demon lords feel the pull. It’s order and direction in the everyday chaos of infernal mana. Many will scatter, but mortals will hunt them down, or else they will return. Conquer or death. Those are the only options in Enusia, and no demon can conquer without a horde."

"It almost makes me feel sorry for them," Verity murmured.

"Don’t. Demons are monsters," I said, shivering.

"Even yours?"

I hesitated, chewing on my lip.

"Yes," Fyren said with absolute certainty. "Even the Fatesworn. Demons survive on slaughter and destruction. They feed on the infernal mana generated by mortal suffering."

"The Fatesworn are changing," I said softly. "They grow stronger even in the peace of Haven."

He inclined his head. "Dusk breaks over the Cycle. Perhaps we shall see things yet that have hitherto been impossible."

Verity sighed. "Why do you both speak in riddles like that? Would it kill you to be straightforward?"

"Some things are not to be said lightly. Some knowledge is too dangerous to understand. Thus, it is veiled behind uncertainty," Fyren said.

"Not for me. I just don’t really get it that much, myself. Hard to be certain when it’s all just guessing," I said. Then, with a smile, added. "Fate’s too unpredictable, anyway. If I’m vague, there’s lots of wiggle room for when I’m wrong."

"Your aura has gotten stronger," Fyren said after a minute. "I don’t recall it reaching this far. Perhaps it was a mistake to retrieve the apostle from Oblivion. You are not ready."

"You said that before. What did you mean? I don’t regret saving Luke, but...something’s different."

"Mortals gain power from exercising their bodies and souls, using mana as fuel. The more you burn, the more you push, the stronger you go. But what if you replaced that fuel with something else? Something far stronger?"

"You mean...?"

"You don’t use mana when you manipulate fate."

My hand closed around the Soul Binder. I thought of the power that had leaked through its chains when Alex held me captive. They had bled into my dreams and escaped my soul to lead Jessia right to me.

"You are a vessel, Xiviyah. You hold the divinity of a god in your hands. When you use it, its power grows within you. It is a fuel like the sun compared to the stars of divine mana. Your body cannot grow; it cannot split the burden. So your soul must shoulder it all on its own. When you went after the apostle, there was a very real chance you would break through unconsciously, trapped in the darkness of oblivion. And now..." His gaze drifted to Verity, who watched our conversation wide-eyed. "The power of fate cannot be wielded lightly. No divinity should be, most especially not by a mortal."

"Is that why Fate never told me?" I whispered, clutching the ring tighter. It bit into my palm, but the pain barely registered.

He nodded. I lowered my head, swallowing the bitter lump in my throat. "I...I’ll be careful. I promise."

"Oh, it’s too late for that. The divinity has been awakened, and it will continue to grow whether you catalyze it or not. Perhaps this, too, is fate."

"Don’t worry, I’ll be with you all the way," Verity said, squeezing my shoulder.

I gave her a grateful look. For some reason, having her here meant a lot more than Korra or R’lissea. She understood the burden I carried unlike any of my friends.

The boom of mana cannons rumbled on the horizon like distant thunder. Flashes of light overpowered the sun, flickering in the valleys, always accompanied by rising plumes of smoke. The air thickened with flying demons, but none of them dared close in on Borealis.

Suddenly, a tingle ran down my tail, and shivers coursed through my soul. It was like the warnings the Oracle of Eternity gave me when my life was in danger, just a lot more present. Verity moved before anyone else, teleporting just beyond Borealis’s wingtip, her sword drawn.

"Get down!" Fyren cried, jumping over me.

Several swords the size of small houses burst from the horde below, flying up at us at supersonic speeds. Verity happened to be in perfect position and intercepted the first. The massive blade skittered across her blade, grinding off in a storm of sparks that shot out like rain. She gritted her teeth, bracing both hands against her sword, and barely deflected away from us.

She bought just enough time for Borealis to wheel aside. The rest of the blades shot past, vanishing into the atmosphere. One clipped his wing, slicing through crystalline feathers like they were wool before shooting off, trailing his blood behind it. Borealis shrieked in pain, wheeling sharply.

"So, he finally made his move," Fyren growled.

Borealis flew wildly, struggling to regain his balance. The landscape streaked beneath us, the mountainous valleys growing closer as we spiraled down. My insides flipped with every lurch, and I cast a helpless look at the still distant walls of High Valley.

By the time Borealis steadied himself, we were dangerously low to the ground. The trampled forest whizzed by, close enough that I could see the scions hiding in the ravaged groves, staring up hungrily. Fyren cursed and grabbed me in a giant claw, holding me carefully so he didn’t tear my dress, or the fragile skin beneath.

And then we were airborne. I choked on a scream, scrabbling for purchase against the rough texture of his scaled hand.

We hit the ground hard and were immediately swarmed by demons. Dozens of fifth- and sixth-level blade demons rushed at us, many towering over thirty feet tall.

"Keep her safe," Fyren said, leaning over and setting me on the ground. Verity was at my side in an instant, catching me before my wobbling knees collapsed.

Fyren lunged forward, white fire arcing from each of his claws. It rolled out in a razor-sharp wave, passing cleanly through the swarming packs and igniting everything it touched. Demons screeched and roared as they rolled across the ground, writhing in agony. The white fire consumed scale, tissue, and armor in seconds, eating away at their body until nothing remained--not even piles of finely powdered ash.

"Terrifying," Verity mumbled, gripping me a little too tightly.

Fable was just as deadly on our flank, growing to assume his true form. He pounced on a thirty-foot-tall fire demon. It exploded, giving him a mouthful of fire, but Fable just tossed the disintegrating body aside and slapped an entire pack of scions into a bloody pulp.

Verity vanished, and I fell to my knees, barely keeping my grip on my staff. She appeared beside a fifth-level curse demon, her sword in its chest, before blinking back and helping me to my feet.

"Is this how your battles normally go?"

I nodded, a touch of shame reddening my cheeks. "Something like this. Always, they’re after me. Human, demon, elf, god...it doesn’t matter. Everyone wants the divinity."

"I can see why you were always so reluctant to fight. It must have been so scary, being hunted by so many, and yet unable to defend yourself." She gave me a lopsided smile. "But that’s in the past. I’m your sword now. Even when everyone leaves you for their own battles, I’ll be there."

I started to nod, but then we both stiffened. The same shiver that had warned of the ambush triggered again.

"Foresight," Verity muttered, looking around, pulling me behind her. "It doesn’t just track the future, but every ripple in nearby fate. That demon lord must be close."

On her word, a gleaming humanoid figure descended from the ridgeline, his silver cloak flaring around him.

"Lord Bloodsteel," I said, quivering under the weight of his aura.

The demon lord landed, gazing at us calmly. "How fortunate to find you without your protectors. Your capture should bring an end to this futile conflict, and then we can finally purge the unwilling from our ranks. This world will fall, one way or another."

Verity stepped forward, taking her sword in both hands. "I didn’t think I would get a chance to make good on my promise this quickly. Fate must be smiling on me."

"And what are you?" Lord Bloodsteel asked, summoning several floating swords. "A remnant? A ghost?"

Verity took a breath, facing him with a proud look. "Verity. The sword of fate."

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