The Forsaken Hero

I remained seated on the cold stone floor for a few moments, twisting my staff thoughtfully, processing the information I’d gleaned from the vision. The method of casting, using a crystal formation like that, was completely unfamiliar to me, yet it hadn’t been able to hide its secrets from the Oracle of Eternity. I had clearly seen its purpose and the intricate workings of the spell. It wouldn’t be easy to stop, but at least I was no longer fighting an invisible enemy.

My hands tightened around my staff, knuckles white, as I recalled the rest of the vision, the image of Elise twisted and tormented. Every time I sought a glimpse of the future, she seemed to be there, just out of reach, a haunting reminder of my failure. Her presence left a dull ache in my heart, and seeing her treated as nothing more than a plaything for Alverin’s twisted desires filled me with a rage that threatened to consume me.

But worse than the anger was the helplessness. I could do nothing to save her. And until I could, the curse would continue to corrupt her, dragging her deeper and deeper into the darkness. My greatest fear was that I wouldn’t be able to coax her back, to reach her as she had once reached me.

Slowly, with deliberate breaths, I managed to calm my racing heart. My tail swished anxiously across the tile floor, but I managed to quell the anger within me. I’d gained what I needed: a path forward.

But it still didn’t feel like enough. Alverin was cunning and intelligent. He’d outmaneuvered us time and again, from his escape at Bluegate Keep to the ambush in Liceria. He had to know I could see the future, just as Verity could, and that I might be able to anticipate and counter his trap. He wouldn’t have such confidence if he had only one card to play.

Sensing my unease, Fable stopped his pacing and sat beside me, his tail gently curling around my legs, drawing me close. I let my eyes close as his fur enveloped me, breathing in his scent. I leaned my cheek against his chest, and he dipped his head, nuzzling my hair. His breath was warm against my scalp, a simple gesture that brought a faint smile to my lips.

”Thanks,” I murmured, my voice muffled against his fur.

His chest rumbled in a deep purr, sending vibrations through my entire body. I reached up and stroked his jowl, my fingers lazily tracing through his thick fur. Sometimes, just having someone I could lean on was enough.

But Fable proved to be more than just a comforting presence. He squeezed an impression through our soul bond, a sense of urgency accompanying it. I frowned, letting the feeling swirl around me before shaking my head in confusion.

”What is it?” I asked, pulling away slightly to look into his eyes. ”What about Kahlen?”

He sent several more impressions, each similar to the last. They were the unique scents and marks of each demon, according to Fable’s senses, a mix of fire and ash.

But what could the demons do? They were powerful, but certainly not strong enough to overcome entire armies, heroes, and an apostle on their own.

Fable sent another impression, this one of Gayron. His scent differed from the actual demons, though he still carried the faint tang of fire. Then another presence came through, thick and vile, sending a shiver down my spine. Yet, I couldn’t help but feel a touch of nostalgia, a slight yearning to feel more of it. It was Luke’s mark.

”Yeah, they’re different,” I said, not quite grasping his point.

He dipped his head, his gaze intense as he stared deeply into my eyes. I frowned, a shiver of unease running down my spine. Just what was he getting at?

Then it hit me, the realization shocking me like a bucket of ice water. I paled, my tail going rigid, and shook my head vehemently. ”N-no, that’s insane!”

Fable continued to watch me, his eyes calm and patient. Again, he nudged me with the scent of the demons in our camp, the scent of the Lord of Ash.

”Fable, no,” I protested, my voice rising in alarm. ”There’s no way I could trust him. You heard Gayron, he’s dangerous! And even if I wanted to, he’s just as far away as Luke is. It’s not like I can contact him.”

Even before I finished protesting, Fable pushed a memory through our bond. My fingers grasped at nothing as I recoiled from him, my tail shifting from agitation to fear. The memory was fragmented, a mere whisper of an echo, but it was impossible for me not to recognize it. There was a burning village, death, and a fire demon.

”H-how can you know about that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. ”I-I don’t know that demon! I’ve never even been there.”

Long ago, when I was still enslaved in the Divine Throne, my visions had arrived unbidden, often revealing dark and twisted scenes, especially concerning the demonic invasion. I’d been forced to witness countless thousands die in fire and shadow, many as a direct consequence of my actions. That was part of the reason I was so sensitive about the innocent blood shed in the pursuit of our cause. It wasn’t just because I’d seen their suffering in the past; there’s only one past, after all. But the future holds horrors the past can’t even imagine, as one can die a thousand different ways in just as many futures.

But that only made this particular memory even more terrifying. It was a vision I’d had, one of the few I recalled with any clarity. The others had all blurred together, but this one burned in my mind as bright as a star on the darkest night. It was the first and last time a being other than a god had ever spoken to me in a vision. It was sometime after waking from that vision that I discovered my status had changed to include the Mark of the Inferno.

Nothing I’d ever heard or read about demons mentioned such a status, only that demons could mark their followers. But that was completely different, wasn’t it? For starters, I wasn’t a demon, and the mark was supposed to be accepted voluntarily. I wasn’t bound to obey any demon, not like Gayron said the mark required, nor was my soul tied to anyone in any way. I was free. I had to be, right?

I found myself turning to look at Fable again. He hadn’t moved, waiting patiently for me to calm down, just watching.

Deep down, I already knew the answer. A fire demon had marked me in the past, and now, this Lord of Ash claimed some connection to me. I’d been avoiding the obvious conclusion ever since Kahlen first appeared, but Fable had forced the truth to the surface.

I closed my eyes, fighting back tears, as he sent one final impression. Elise’s radiant face and smile, her hand outstretched toward me, promising we’d meet again. It was the last time I’d seen her in the flesh, when we left Western University behind. She’d wanted to practice casting the spell Fate had given her; the one meant to dispel curses. Liberation, she’d called it. The very thing she needed most right now.

There was no more denying it. This mystery had haunted me for long enough, and I wouldn’t let it hold me back any longer. The demon had reached out to me through my visions. Perhaps I could do the same.

Fable sat up straighter as my eyes hardened with resolve, seeming to preen with pride at my newfound determination.

I sighed and shook my head, rubbing my horn wryly. ”I still want to know how you got hold of that memory. That happened long before I ever met you, you know.”

He gave me a wolfish grin, and I rolled my eyes. As I settled back down, he suddenly stiffened, his ears pricking in alarm. He quickly stood, a low growl rumbling in his throat, and stalked out of my view. But by the time I realized something was wrong, it was already too late. I’d slipped back into my soulspace.

It didn’t take much to conjure an image of the Fire Demon I’d seen in my first visions. He was similar to Gayron, only a little larger, and his eyes lacked the bit of humanity the apostle still had. Despite the church’s propaganda, humanity was being forced to learn there really was a difference between demonkin and demon. A difference that manifested itself in a war that scourged entire kingdoms.

I felt the oppressive heat even before I opened my eyes, materializing in the sky above a city wreathed in a horrific inferno. It was twilight outside, save for the lingering halo of light where the sun had just dipped below the horizon—about the same time it was in the world outside Haven. But the landscape below was anything but dark, bathed in a literal sea of flames. As I looked closer, a chill traced down my spine. It wasn’t a sea, but a city twice the size of Liceria. And it was all burning.

There were no vast armies or demon hordes, just fire, smoke, and ash. Embers danced in the sky, as numerous as the twinkling stars above. Thick plumes of smoke obscured entire sections of the city, billowing and rolling with every fresh eruption of flame.

A thought pressed upon my mind, confirming what I’d suspected since realizing the matching timelines of the vision. This scene wasn’t from the past or future. It was happening in real-time. Tonight, the same night I’d ventured into Haven, tens of thousands were burning, and I was here to seek the one who had brought this fiery destruction upon them.