The Forsaken Hero

”Wait, what are you planning? Isn’t it good Fable’s strong?” I asked.

But Villie was already casting. I gasped as mana left me in a flood, literally staggering at the loss. Eight magic circles appeared around Fable, glowing gold and green. Life magic and fate magic combined in a single spell, forming an array reminiscent of Requiem.

”Two attributes?” R’lissea asked.

The spell resolved with dizzying speed. Villie snapped her fingers, a proud look on her face.

”Fate’s Shackles!” she cried.

Fable squirmed as the spell took effect. Golden green chains appeared from the magic circles, sinking into his flesh and soul. His movements became frantic, a whine escaping his lips. The warm starlight of Adaptive Resistance retreated into his soul, dragging my wards with it. They were still there, just...dormant. The curse of the gate settled in, starting to sap his strength further.

”What are you doing to him?” I cried, managing to regain my balance. My knees shook, my knuckles white on my staff. I’d nearly blacked out after losing so much mana at once.

Villie shrugged. ”I told you. It’s no fun to fight when you’re so much stronger.”

I watched in open-mouthed horror as Fable’s aura receded. The chains sapped his mana from his muscles and soul, holding it like an unsprung well. His fur lost some of its stars, his eyes their luster. When the flow finally stopped, he’d lost almost all of his mana density in body and soul. His aura placed him around the upper stages of the sixth level.

”There.” Villie nodded in satisfaction. ”Much better.”

I gaped at her. ”You forcibly dropped his level?”

”No need to look so upset. It’s only for a little bit. Now, where were we? Oh, yeah. Killing demons.” She turned to R’lissea. ”Listen up. There are two kinds of augmentation spells. The first is overlaying magical effects, like what Angry Teeth does. The second is enhancing the creature itself.”

”I-I knew that much,” R’lissea stammered. She edged away from the child-like remnant, eyes wide.

”Let me show you my favorite one.” Villie cast another spell, conjuring five magic circles. ”Wings of the Archons!”

Fable jumped and tried to run as the magic circles surrounded him, but she was too quick. The spell resolved, and he was covered in green life magic. Two glowing wings of translucent light sprang from his shoulders. They were long and feathered like a bird’s.

Once Fable realized they weren’t harmful, he flexed them, spreading a wingspan of over twenty feet. I groaned, rubbing my horn. The last thing I needed was Fable learning how to fly.

”Give it a shot,” Villie said.

Fable arched his back, and the wings tentatively flapped. Confidence rose in our bond, turning to a sense of wonder as he began flapping in earnest and rose off the ground.

”How does he know how to do that?” R’lissea asked, staring in awe.

Villie shrugged. ”I guess he just does.”

She turned in surprise. ”You don’t know?”

”It’s the magic. Monsters and animals just seem to know what to do with whatever you give them.”

”Amazing,” R’lissea breathed.

I shook my head, a pit forming in my stomach. Amazing was far from the right word. The last thing Fable needed was the ability to fly. Borealis was a bird, for Fate’s sake, and I’d already fallen off him one too many times. Jumping was more than enough for my wolf.

My anxiety peaked as Fable rose another twenty feet in the air, gaining confidence with every flap. He wheeled around, picking up speed until he blurred. After a few circles overhead, he darted at the nearest clump of scions, lashing out with his augmented claws. Though weaker than before, his attack split the curse demons into shadowy ribbons.

After clearing out the nearby demons, he landed beside us, bounding to a stop. His eyes shone, unbridled excitement in our bond. His wagging tail created mini tornadoes.

”No. I’m not riding that,” I said, quickly backing away.

R’lissea laughed. ”No one’s asking you to.”

”Yet,” I muttered.

”Alright, now for some enhancement magic,” Villie said. ”Taste of Roses!”

This one was a fourth-circle spell. It settled on Fable, creating a faint aura entwined with green and pink light.

”What does that do?” I asked.

”We’re trying to save that weird demonkin over there, right?” Villie asked, pointing at Evla some hundred yards away.

I nodded. ”Please.”

”Okay then. Get them, Fable!”

I jumped, anxiously gripping my staff. ”But he’s only sixth-level now! Two seventh-level demons are attacking her!”

She tilted her head. ”So?”

I turned to Fable. ”It’s too dangerous, please, don’t...you want to, don’t you.” I sighed, rubbing my horn in defeat. ”You’re all insane.”

Fable wagged his tail, giving me a lick. I wiped the saliva from my face, glaring at him.

”Fine, do what you want,” I said.

He half-turned, giving me a lingering guilty look. I shooed him away, trying to quell the butterflies in my stomach. There wasn’t a single ounce of worry in our bond. Only excitement.

”Battle Maniac,” I muttered.

Fable’s guilt vanished in an instant, and he rose into the air on his glowing wings. Circle us once, he streaked away toward Elva, covering the distance in a heartbeat. Evla’s wards had grown frail and were flickering. The pulses of mana that repulsed attacks lacked the punch they had before.

Many of the scions had grown bored with striking the shield and had backed off, letting the evolved demons have their way with her. There were two seventh-level demons at the front: a humanoid one with a long, curved sword and a mage-type demon cloaked in shadows. They both sensed Fable’s approach, and the sword-wielding demon turned about, sizing up the new threat.

It was close to fifteen feet tall and very thin, with pale, sallow flesh instead of the formless shadow typical of its kind. Its arms were unnaturally long, tipped in four-inch nails that ended in points. Its sword was skinny, shaped like a leaf of grass, and curved at the top. Reverse serrations jutted from the bottom half of the blade.

The demon growled and raised its hand, conjuring five magic circles. Black twine erupted from the spell, lashing toward Fable with blinding speed.

Fable dove down, avoiding the entangling mass, but the threads turned about sharply, chasing after him. A few winged evolved demons took flight, closing in on the wolf at the same time. As he rolled to dodge the threads, one clipped him with a curse. His silver fur tarnished, and a pained whine burst from his jaws.

”He’ll be fine,” R’lissea said. ”Trust him.”

I released an anxious breath, deliberately loosening my grip on my staff. My fingers ached from gripping it too tightly. There was nothing I could do to relax my tail, however, which tensed and twitched with the flow of the battle.

A few threads finally managed to latch onto him, binding his left hind leg. Fable kicked at it with his free leg, severing them with his claws, but they slowed him long enough for one of the evolved demons to catch up. It was long and pudgy, with wings that seemed too small for its blokish body. It had three arms ending in one dagger-like blade each.

Fable growled as the three claws dug into his flank, drawing gouts of blood. He tried to shake it free, but the demon climbed higher on his body, cutting and tearing into his fur. The weight threw his balance off, and he failed to dodge more of the threads.

The seventh-level demon’s lips pulled into a grin that stretched the skin tight across its pale, bloodless face. Its hand clenched, and the threads pulled taught, dragging Fable to the ground. He hit hard, the impact sending the demon clawing at him flying off. His left foreleg turned sharply, bone punching through his flesh. A spike of pain stabbed through our bond, nearly blinding me.

I cried out, but R’lissea caught my arm before I could run to him, pulling me to her side. I watched helplessly as he struggled to his feet. Curses tugged at his flesh, preventing his regeneration from knitting the wounds together.

The three-armed demon recovered from the fall and lunged forward. Fable lashed out with a front leg, and the demon jumped back, suffering only a slight cut on its torso. It took the air, circling like a vulture, joined by the other flying demons. Scions crawled toward Fable, snarling and snapping at him. He took a few out with the extended reach of his claws, but the circle grew tighter with every passing second.

Suddenly, the three-armed demon stiffened, its wings going limp. It plummeted from the air, crashing into two scions. Thin green tendrils crawled over its body, covered in sharp thorns that punctured inches deep into its skin and siphoned its mana. The demon bawled and screeched, struggling against the advancing thorns, but its movements grew weak and futile. Pink roses bloomed on the thorns, filled with the stolen infernal mana.

One of the scions escaped from under its weight and started to run. Before it could make more than a few steps, it collapsed, its soul emptying of mana. One of the thorns from the other demon had broken off in its leg and was now sprouting its own vines. In just a few seconds, it too was dead.