The Forsaken Hero

Until recently, my nights were frequented by nightmares and pain, rarely giving me a chance to fully rest. Yet now, it had been nearly a month since I’d been chased by shadows through the fiery halls of the Divine Throne. The last nightmare I could remember came shortly before I awoke in Elise’s arms following my ordeal at Western University, nearly a month ago. She’d lit a small, flickering fire in my heart that kept even the darkest of dreams at bay.

It wasn’t only nightmares, either. Even the Eyes of Fate had remained quiet, no longer burdening me with unwelcome visions. It was ironic, really, that the one thing I’d yearned for - knowledge of the future - was now my greatest shackle. Thron had been right all along, for how could I hope or trust when all my future held was darkness?

The brief reprieve had brought me a few weeks of peace, yet it ended with a single breath, and I found myself standing in an unfamiliar garden. Unlike other visions, my soul retained the form of my body, behaving as it had following my death and consequent summoning to the Divine Colosseum, save this time I was on an island floating through the depths of the night sky.

Several other islands floated freely around, but beyond them, there was nothing save a sea of stars. The island was fairly small, barely thirty feet across, with a white marble fountain in the middle. The fountain featured a winged woman clothed in nothing but her long, flowing hair, standing on a flower. Golden streams spurted upward from her outstretched hands, raining down upon her head and the flower petals and leaves before collecting in a shallow basin from which the sculpture sprouted. The entire work was made of transparent crystal, observable only by the contours of the golden water and the sight warp of the stars seen through it.

Behind the statue, I could make out the graceful form of a woman. She wore a long dress that had no beginning or end and seemed to be woven from the night sky itself. Although her back was toward me, her face concealed by long, flowing hair, I couldn’t mistake her for anyone else.

”Fate.”

The goddess remained motionless, her hair rising in the mysterious astral wind. I took a hesitant step toward her, but stopped, staring down at my hands, trying to confirm whether I was truly here or not. Was this actually a vision?

Moments before I relinquished the hope of speaking with her, Fate sighed, her shoulders slumping. The stars sheathing her body swirled as she turned, whirling dizzying until she came to a rest, her glimmering eyes meeting mine. They were soft, and melancholy, an emotion I couldn’t reconcile with the usually serenely expressionless goddess.

”So you’ve come here after all,” she murmured.

”Where are we?” I asked slowly, ”And wasn’t it you who called me?”

She shook her head gently, sending long, graceful ripples through her dark hair. ”I cannot see you, anymore. Fate was once a beautiful, still pond, Xiviyah, but now...?” She waved her hand, and the air distorted, rolling out from the disturbance in visible waves. ”Now there are too many ripples.”

”But I thought you said the future was never written, that prophecies could change at any time,” I said.

”That is true, in a sense. But some things must happen. This world wasn’t meant to struggle against the Demon Wave. Fire, Curse, and Blade Demons were deployed in what was supposed to be a probing strike, testing the abilities of the gods’ heroes. Another world is the chosen battleground, one not yet unveiled to either side.”

I blinked, trying my best to absorb the new information. The forces of Enusia were powerful, and with a little more experience, knowledge, and caution, there was no doubt they’d be able to hold against the demons we’ve faced so far. But if Enusia was simply a skirmish, then why had a Demon Lord sent an Avatar?

”Are you sure you are the one to be asking that?” Fate asked, smiling sadly. ”It’s your fault, after all.”

Her sudden answer to my thoughts sent a shiver of unease down my spine. It’d been too easy to forget the gods could read minds. ”I haven’t done anything but survive.”

”And there lies the problem. You were meant to die at the hands of the inquisitor before awakening at the Shard.”

I froze, my eyes widening. ”You...you knew? Then why? Why did you tell me to be happy? Why would you send me just to die?”

”Fate is not ours to choose, but to accept. Your survival was no accident. There are a thousand reasons, from your inexplicable talent to the chance awakening in the warehouse, but one thing is certain. You are now a variable, and that scares us. Not only us, but the demons as well. Because of you, the dragon was corrupted, which ultimately led to the destruction of the city and the shattering fall of a Demon Lord, not to mention the twin gates opening.”

”But that’s not me,” I whispered. ”I can’t do anything.”

”Even the smallest pebble causes ripples,” Fate murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper. ”But even now, things are as they are meant to be. The others don’t understand fate as I do. They seek to control it, to use their power to alter it, not knowing that their every move is only one more thread in the tapestry of time. Sometimes, no matter how unfair it might seem, that tapestry draws upon shadow as well as light.”

”What are you saying?” I asked, my tail swishing anxiously.

Fate tilted her head, reaching out and cupping my cheek with a warm, comforting hand. Streams of starlight trickled down her face, dispersing into sparkles the moment they dripped free of her cheeks.

”F-Fate...?” I stammered, an uncomfortable tightness squeezing my chest.

Her hand dropped from my cheek, and she reached out, taking my hand and drawing me close to her, pressing my head against her bosom. ”I’m sorry, Xiviyah,” she murmured, gently stroking my hair.

She radiated comfort and safety, and as my surprise faded, I collapsed against her, tears gathering in my eyes. She was so soft and pure that it felt as though the mere presence of my mortal soul would sully her beyond repair, but even if it did, her loving arms were firm and undaunted, holding me close.

”Why is it so hard?” I asked through my tears.

She shook her head, running a hand down my horn. The gentle touch sent a delightful tingle down my spine and tail, enveloping me in warmth. A blush tinted my cheeks as I instinctively leaned into her touch, silently yearning for more. Fate smiled, granting my unspoken plea and tenderly stroking my horns.

”There are sacrifices in war,” she murmured.

My chest tightened at her words, eerily similar to what the Arbiter had told me before the battle in the gates. ”Sacrifices?”

Her gaze seemed to carry the weight of a thousand sorrows. ”Xiviyah, the nights ahead are dark, perhaps without a single star to light the way. The things you have suffered, the anguish, abandonment, and pain, are merely a prelude to the things to come.”

I pulled out of her arms, pressing a hand to my rapidly beating heart. ”W-what are you saying? Are you going to...to...” My voice was choked with sobs, but I refused any attempt for Fate to embrace me once more. ”Soltair, Fyren... no I can’t. Not you, too.”

”Have faith, Xiviyah. Keep your candle burning.”

”I don’t know if I can,” I whispered.

”You must.”

The island was fading, her voice growing distant. Desperate, I threw my arms around her but slipped right through the goddess. Fate smiled sadly and snapped her fingers, and everything went black.

A moment later, I awoke, screaming. A scorching fire burned through every vein in my body, and scarlet arcs of curse magic flayed my flesh, spreading out of the slave crest. It continued for several seconds, consuming my mind with fiery agony, blinding all other senses.

When the Slave Crest relented, I lay crumpled on the dirty straw mattress, weeping. A tall, white-robed inquisitor loomed over me, frowning in disapproval. It wasn’t Terran, but he held the Soul Binder ring between his thumb and index fingers, holding literal mastery over my being.

Even as my senses returned, tears continued to trickle down my cheeks. Not from the pain of the slave crest, which had mostly faded, but the emptiness in my heart. Why hadn’t Fate promised to be there? She’d always done so before, in the few times we’d spoken, yet now, on the eve of her proclaimed starless night, I was alone. Elise, Korra, Thron, and even Bethiv, were far, far away. And now Fate herself, the very being for whom I suffered, had withdrawn.

”Awake, slave,” the inquisitor growled, giving me a sharp kick in the ribs, ”Your judgment is at hand.”