The Forsaken Hero

Verity collapsed beside the fallen blade demon lord, dissipating slowly into stars. We ran to her side, and I dropped to my knees. My hand passed through hers as I tried to take it, but she smiled up weakly.

"I...I did it. I killed a demon lord." She was quiet for a moment, then looked up at me, her eyelashes fluttering. "Have you...?"

The question caught me off guard, and I glanced at Fable before shaking my head. "Not really. It’s kind of hard for me to kill anyone."

She let out a small, broken chuckle. "I just got lucky. He couldn’t hurt me, and he was too desperate. If he’d just slowed down, I would have burned through all my mana. Look, I’m already like this..." She gestured at herself. I could see straight through her."

"I think you’re being a little dramatic," I said, reaching for her hand again. This time, I infused my aura and felt her fingers. She brightened, but light oozed into her like water trickling down a tree, starting with her arm.

"Gods, I feel much better. Is this your mana?" She asked, looking down at her soul. "It feels so...warm."

I smiled a little. "I don’t have much to give, it’s all going to the Fatesworn."

She twirled in the air, ending up on her feet, and helped me stand. "It doesn’t seem to take much to manifest. But I have a feeling if I ever deplete my soul, I’ll end up hibernating for a while."

Beginning the moment Fable returned to me, the sounds of battle had dwindled. Fyren reached us a few minutes later, panting lightly. His soul glowed dimly, but his eyes still glittered.

"It’s done?" he asked, nudging Lord Bloodsteel’s corpse with his clawed foot.

"Verity killed him."

"Then you’re a proper hero," he said, turning to her.

She preened slightly. I suppressed a smile, absently stroking Fable’s fur as I looked toward the distant wall of stars. Shadows draped across the sky, dimming the noonday sun. They radiated from the cliffs beyond High Valley. Had they expanded since I last checked? I fingered the ring around my neck, biting my lip.

"We should get going before more demons find us," Fyren said.

"Did you see where Borealis got to?" Verity asked, scanning the sky.

I waved to my staff, and a golden rift opened. A second later, Borealis flew through. He was glowing brightly, having condensed to fit through the gate, but immediately began to expand. He did a low circle, and Fyren plucked me up and jumped onto his back before he had fully reverted. Fable joined us a half-second later, and in seconds, the mist wall loomed over us.

Tens of thousands of demons thronged through the rugged valleys and canyons surrounding High Valley, blurring together into rivers of infernal mana as we passed overhead. A few winged demons made half-hearted attempts to follow, but they had a better chance of defeating Fyren than they did keeping up with an eighth-level demon the size of Borealis.

I breathed a sigh of relief as we shot over the heads of the Fatesworn, passing between two anchored skyships. The flashes and booms of cannon fire paused to let a wave of cheers chase after us. Fatesworn raised their swords and spears, their souls lighting up as the stars thickened in response to my presence. Not only had they held the line, but they had actually retaken a layer of fortifications lost in the initial infernal offensive. Not a single demon had been allowed to approach the Valley.

"They really love you," Verity murmured.

"I’m just glad I’m able to protect them all."

Borealis slowed as we fell behind the protective line and glided into High Valley. The mists enveloped just long enough to feel like a hug before they parted. Fatesworn rushed to and fro, carrying supplies and ammunition outward and wounded inward. They gaped up as Borealis’s shadow flashed over them, breaking into cheers like their brethren outside.

We descended in wide, looping circles, gradually shaking the rest of our speed until Borealis landed in the outer courtyards of the Fatesworn keep.

"You’re not heading out?" Fyren asked, a hint of surprise creeping into his gravely voice.

I hesitated and shook my head. I forced myself to release the grip I kept on the ring, resting my hand on the Aethereal Prism instead.

"Luke asked me to stay away."

"And you’re going to believe him?"

My fingers curled around the crystal lantern. "I...I believe in him. That’s enough, isn’t it?"

He looked at me for a long time, and my heart rose into my throat. But his lips cracked in a toothy smile, and he nodded.

"You’ve grown. Retreating from the battle is, undoubtedly, the most viable strategy you have right now. If you interfere in whatever the apostle and demon lord are doing, you’re certain to endanger yourself and him. Right now, his only option is to defeat the Apostle, which won’t be easy. He’s come a long way since we first crossed blades, and he’s had a night to rest on top of it. But if you appear, Rash’alon gets the option to kill you. He might not prefer it, now that he lusts after your realm as well, but it’s the easy path should he ever be put on the back foot. Better to win a divinity than nothing at all."

"Is it wrong?" I whispered, pursing my lips, fighting the tears welling in the corner of my eyes.

"I just said it’s the right thing to do."

"I know, but...I don’t want to leave him alone."

"Some burdens must be borne alone. All you can do is remember the sacrifice. It’s for you, after all."

"And comfort him when he’s back," Verity offered. We both looked at her, and she shifted, shyly tugging on her hair. "What? I did learn some things from being with Soltair."

"Thank you. I won’t forget," I said. Then, turning back to Fyren, started to ask, "Would you please find who’s in charge, and... oh, sorry. You must be exhausted."

"No, it’s enough to be out of the fight for a brief spell. There’s so much death and destruction going on that it won’t take me long to absorb enough to be back to normal strength. I’ll see to it that the battle continues in our favor, though your chosen officers seem to be more than capable of doing that on their own."

"Thank Bethiv, not me. I barely know their names," I mumbled.

"Be that as it may. Go, I’ll ensure High Valley remains safe, and Haven guarded."

I gave him a grateful nod and mounted Fable. Borealis shrunk and flew into my arms, and the four of us left the keep behind, bounding across the bridge to the island in the center of the lake. Several unfamiliar members of the Star Guard were posted outside, each a fifth-level warrior at the very least. They saluted sharply as we approached. One offered me a hand and helped me off Fable’s back as he crouched down. The rest saluted sharply, stepping aside to let me enter the small church.

"Xiviyah! I heard you...Are you well?" said Rylam, standing quickly from a cot in the infirmary. He ran over, his tail wagging. He was covered in blood, though most of it was discolored demon viscera. A linen bandage wrapped around his arm. Blood slowly pooled into it.

"You’re hurt!" I cried, taking his arm, gently examining him.

"Oh, that? It’s just...ugh." He suppressed a wince as I ran my hand over the bloodstain. "It’s not serious. It gave me a good excuse to retreat. I’m completely dry right now."

I whispered a healing spell and unwound the bandage. He flexed his arm, grinning at me.

"I didn’t think you wanted to fight. You said earlier--"

"I know," he interrupted, rubbing the back of his head. "And I’m really not built for war, but I remembered what you said about being a light in the dark, not the day, and, well..." He shrugged. "I couldn’t do anything. I hope the few demons I managed to kill before they took me out meant something."

"It did to me. Thank you," I whispered, hugging him tightly. He stiffened in surprise, and then smiled, absently patting my back.

After a second, he cleared his throat. "I suppose you’ll be on to Haven, then? There’s been a nonstop flow of Fatesworn since the battle started, both in and out. But I guess even the remnants have a limit to how much they can heal. That’s why those of us with non-threatening injuries ended up camping out here," he said, gesturing at the infirmary.

I looked over them all, and my heart ached. Several dozen Fatesworn stared up at me, covered in bandages and blood. Rodrick was kneeling beside a young elf woman, carefully infusing life magic into bandages as he wrapped them around her stomach. He caught my eye and nodded, giving me a tight smile.

"Thank you for your sacrifices," I said, clasping my hands together. It wasn’t too early to apply Fyren’s advice, right? Or Verity’s, for that matter. I was exhausted, and plenty drained, but I was still close enough to the front lines that Adaptive Resistance restored enough mana for a simple sixth-circle spell.

"Mass Restoration," I breathed, releasing a pulse of light that bathed the entire room in life magic. Soldiers shifted uncomfortably as their wounds knit together, and bandages fell off to reveal new, tender skin. I gave them one last curtsey, squeezed Rylam’s hand, and entered the gateway to Haven. I needed to see R’lissea and speak with Fate. I just prayed the first would be conscious, and the second willing to speak. There were so many questions I desperately needed answers to.

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