The Forsaken Hero

We strolled around the cathedral, exploring the halls and rooms, places I’d never been before. But my mind was far from the beautiful, starlit statues and mosaics that detailed the many heroes who had risen and fallen in Fate’s name.

”Demon lords mark a unique shift in a demon’s constitution,” Fate said, answering my question before I could ask it. ”Trying to compare the weight and pull of their soul is like comparing a river to a sea. More than that, however, demon lords are the next level in a demon’s evolution. They are as different from evolved demons as evolved demons are from scions. This is where they begin to embody their element, form an aura, and unleash the full potential of the abilities they have absorbed throughout their battles.”

”That’s why Rash’alon wanted to kill me,” I said quietly. ”He wanted the abilities of your Divinity.”

”Your Divinity,” Fate said with a gentle smile. ”And that, perhaps, gives some insight into these...Devoted. The fire demon still hasn’t told you his goal, I see.”

My eyes widened. ”You think Fyren wants to eat me?”

She laughed, a sound like tinkling chimes. ”I should hope not, yet all demons think only of power and evolution.”

Her laugh trailed off, a shiver running through the fabric of the realm itself. It was impossible to describe, but it made my tail twitch, and it was clearly emanating from Fate. Her gaze left me feeling vulnerable and exposed.

”Xiviyah.” Her voice was deadly quiet. ”What, exactly, has he been doing? Have you noticed any...changes in your demons? Anything beyond their mannerisms?”

”They are very quiet, but I guess that falls under mannerisms,” I said. ”Arantius said my soul is very quiet now, too. And, um...they have stars.”

”Stars?”

She stopped abruptly, causing me to turn, tail twitching. Her hand was soft as she took my chin, tilting my face up. I was drawn to her eyes, which glistened like mirrors, filled with stars. A strange sense of vulnerability swept over me, and I shivered, chest growing tight. It was difficult to think, even to breathe. I wanted to run, even to hide, but couldn’t look away from her eyes. They seemed to grow deeper, sharing a glimpse of what she saw. Memories, experiences, and scenes flickered across her irises. Not hers, but mine.

As suddenly as she captured me, Fate released me. I stumbled a step back, gasping for breath. Cold shivers coursed through my body, and I hugged myself, feeling utterly naked and exposed in front of her.

”Forgive me, but I had to see,” Fate said.

She started walking again, taking a corridor that led into a wing of the Cathedral I’d never been in before. I stood motionless, staring listlessly.

Fate paused before vanishing around a corner, looking back and beckoning to me. ”Come, child.”

I hesitated a moment longer, still catching my breath, before tucking my tail and scurrying after her. The mosaics and paintings grew dimmer as we moved past closed doors and windows. Less light came through the stained glass windows, and dust gathered in the corners. I recognized fewer of the heroes depicted until, at some point, I knew none of them.

”What are all these rooms?” I asked.

She glanced at me, lips pursed in thought. She took a moment to speak, as if struggling to recall my question.

”I remember all of my heroes, Xiviyah, even those whose names have passed from the records of the Divine. This cathedral stands as a memorial to their sacrifices, with every room possessing the things that were important to them. Here, look.”

She opened a passing door, revealing a small room no bigger than my room in Rivlitt’s inn. The ground was marble tile, the ceiling a reflection of the skies of Haven. A small fountain burbled in the middle, decorated with purple gems and gold leaf. The bowl was carved with scenes of battles and passion in a long-lost world. A statue of a man sat on the top, the water coming out of his outstretched hands. He was tall and had a strange mustache, with slightly pointed ears.

”Laikkon,” Fate said softly, gazing at him. There was a sad, faraway look in her eye.

”I’ve never seen him before. Didn’t he become a remnant?” I asked.

She shook her head. ”Not all heroes become remnants. Only those who won and ascended to the rank of Archon. It’s the same reward that was promised to the heroes of this world. The one that contributes the most to the salvation of Enusia would be raised to serve their God in the Divine Realms.”

”What happened to him?” I asked.

”He died,” she said softly. ”Killed by a demon lord’s avatar in the final battle. His soul is somewhere in the realms, reborn a hundred thousand times by now.”

She shook her head, as if dismissing the memory. With a whirl of her skirt, she turned, leaving the room.

”Come, child,” she said, hesitating in the doorway. ”There are many more pressing matters we have to discuss.”

The hallways stretched on, as unending as the slave corridors beneath the Divine Throne. We passed countless more doors, each with a unique feeling around it. A distinctive presence that felt reminiscent of the remnants, only...quiet. Dead, maybe.

”Did all of these die?” I asked. ”I recognized a lot more of the paintings and statues earlier, but now I don’t see any remnants I know.”

Fate answered while continuing to walk. ”No, child. All mortals, even raised to the immortal, are still subject to the flow of Fate. With every passing eon, they grow further from who they once were, and their power fades. At some point, when they are mere shadows of themselves, it is a mercy to release their souls back into the cycle.”

”Except Arantius,” I said

She nodded. ”He is the eldest, the first, but even his power has waned considerably. He is a stubborn fool, though, and refuses to allow me to release him from his oaths.”

”Is that why the demons, and even the God of Magic, were scared of him? Fyren seemed scared, too.”

Her step faltered, and she looked at me. ”Magic was afraid of him because even his true body isn’t immune to Arantius’s ability to strike souls from fate, and the demons, because of the power they could sense within him. But the Fire Demon...?” Her eyes widened slightly. It was subtle, but it struck me like a lightning bolt. Fate was never surprised. I’d seen her delighted by fate, disappointed by it, but never surprised. She admitted she didn’t know exactly what was going to happen, that no one could, but that was it.

”Fate?” I asked, my tail stirring with an anxious twitch.

She didn’t answer, instead turning and striding off again. This time, there was a sense of urgency in her step. I had to hurry to keep up, my footsteps echoing sharply through the dusty, abandoned corridors.

After a minute of tense silence, we reached the end of the hallway. The last door was different from the others, emblazoned with the rune of Fate, the same as the mark burned into my demons’ souls. The feeling it gave off was eerily similar to Arantius.

Past the door, the hallway opened into a room. It was tall and spacious, like the central room that housed the Shard and Fate’s statue. The ceiling was like the others, providing light through a starlight sky.

Unlike the other hall, this was completely empty. None of the dust of the remnants’ shrine rooms could be seen here. It was pure and flawless, with white marble floors that shone like mirrors.

The walls were covered in bright, vivid murals, painted from light itself. They were detailed and lifelike, like looking through a window rather than at a picture. There were only three of them, each spanning an entire wall.

The first depicted a single personage, whom I intuitively knew was a deity of some sort. He hovered in a sea of darkness, devoid of stars and worlds. A halo of light radiated from him, fading into blackness by the time it reached the edge of the frame. Souls streamed from his back like wings, their individual bodies more distinct closer to their heads. Each one was like the remnants: a flat, translucent color, each a feather of rainbow wings.

A feminine soul, one of the biggest and most distinct, caught my eye. It was a soft gold color, with long, flowing hair and shining eyes. She wore a joyous smile, her hands outstretched into the darkness. Stars sprang from her fingers, lighting a small portion of the darkness.

”Is that...you?” I asked, turned to gape at Fate. ”I didn’t know you could smile like that.”

She raised an eyebrow, and I squeaked, covering my mouth.

”S-sorry...”

She smiled faintly. ”A time lost to memory, preserved only in the realms of the Elder Gods.”

”Who was he?” I asked, pointing to the man.

He was impossible to describe, not because he was featureless, but because they seemed to change, reflecting every feature I could imagine. He was white, black, yellow, sometimes even appearing green. His ears were pointed, round, or absent entirely. The only thing that remained consistent was his eyes, which seemed to pierce me to the depths, not moving, yet he felt...aware of me.

”Father,” Fate whispered reverently.

There was something solemn about the word, carrying more depth and meaning than I could ever ascribe to anything.

The air felt heavy, suppressive, yet...calm. Something stopped me from asking more, so I took a deep breath and looked at the next painting.

The darkness was gone, replaced by a realm of light. The souls from the...Father’s wings had taken on full form and were standing in a massive circle. Millions of stars drifted amidst them.

I squinted, peering closer, an audible gasp escaping my lips. They weren’t stars, but souls. Even though each was smaller than the point of a pin on the wall, the very weave of their essence was visible. They looked as detailed and alive as they did through the Oracle of Eternity.

There was a subtle change in the mural from one side to the other, though drawing a line between the halves was impossible. One side was light, the other dark. The souls showed this too, growing more chaotic and...infernal the deeper into the darkness.

”The beginning of the cycle,” Fate murmured. ”Yet again, a time lost to memory.”