The Forsaken Hero

The world was consumed in blinding white light. Even the ground dropped out beneath my feet, leaving me weightless, all sound vanishing in a faint ringing.

My eyes fluttered at the wind whispering through my hair, and I gasped, but no air filled my lungs. I tried to scream, but my throat felt full of cotton, not a single sound escaping my lips. Beyond the searing pain in my chest, relief washed through me as another sensation returned—a gentle pull on my body, tugging me somewhere. It was better than that horrible, disorienting weightlessness, that feeling of being adrift in nothingness. At least now I knew I was—

I screamed in terror as the realization hit. I was falling. I couldn’t hear the sound over the ringing in my ears, couldn’t see anything through the blinding white, but the rush of wind past my face, the relentless pull of gravity, and the sickening lurch in my stomach were undeniable. What had happened to the ship? I hadn’t even been near the edge!

I spun several times, my staff flying through my fingers, before something slapped into my calf, tearing my flesh apart. My scream vanished in the wind, and I curled up, blood streaming from the wound. More shrapnel, like fiery needles, slashed across my body, leaving fiery lines. My wards. What had happened to my wards? Even the nexus was gone, and I couldn’t gather myself enough to find my mark in my soul. I was alone.

”Heal,” I choked, but the magic wouldn’t come. Emlica had taken everything I had, and my connection with the prism had shattered the moment the cannon fired.

Impact slammed into my back, driving the air from my lungs in a ragged gasp. Wet, gritty fur scraped against my skin as something broke my fall, traveling downward just a fraction slower than I was, cushioning the force enough to spare me from being pulverized on impact.

”Fable?” The name escaped my lips as a cracked whisper, my fingers clawing at the warmth beneath me. His familiar presence brushed across my mind, a lifeline in the chaos. A choked sob escaped my throat as I clung to him, the wind still tearing at me, trying to rip me from his back.

I felt a surge of power from within my wolf, so immense it caused his fur to stand on end, pricking sharply against my skin. We struck the ground a heartbeat later, but he absorbed the impact with a grunt, jostling me violently.

I lay against him, motionless, before tentatively touching my face. My fingers came away wet with blood, but that feeling in itself was a relief. I was alive. Aching, crying, and scored by a hundred cuts, but alive.

”Fyren? Luke? Korra?” I croaked, rubbing my eyes, trying to get them to work. My vision had recovered slightly, but nothing beyond slightly darker hues amid the dazzling white. And I still couldn’t hear the sound of my voice.

”Alive,” Fyren’s voice came from my bond. I latched onto it, following the thread to his soul across what must be miles between us. He sounded exhausted, more than I’d ever felt him before.”

I lay on Fable for a few seconds, waiting anxiously for more, but nothing followed. I shivered, fighting the urge to cry. They were alright. They had to be!

Some small sliver of mana returned to my soul, and I grasped it, soul casting a first-circle life spell.

”Life Dew,” I gasped, sighing as a drop of water splashed across my face.

The relief was small but immediate, my vision sharpening slightly, giving me the outline of shapes. From what I could tell, Fable had collapsed beneath me, his head resting on his paws, his eyes closed. His breathing was shallow, and he was covered in blood and grime, but his wounds were knitting together before my eyes.

”Lucky,” I whispered, patting him gently.

A few minutes passed, and I slowly stood, recovering enough mana to mend the worst of my wounds, recovering both sight and sound. As the green glow faded, I blinked in the evening light, finding it both too bright and too dim at the same time, and looked around.

The world around us was unrecognizable. Fable had caught me over a caldera of unimaginable scale, spanning what had to be almost five miles in diameter. We’d fallen near the edge, his massive form half-buried in a desert of ash and flickering embers. Shards of wood, some longer than my thigh, littered the ground around us, burning like candles as they sank into the ash until, one by one, they disappeared. From the Skyship? But what had happened?

The walls were glassy smooth, with a sea of magma bubbling at the bottom. The air shimmered above it, the molten red of the walls slowly dulling in color as it cooled. There was no sign of the Arbiter anywhere I could see, but that brought me little comfort, especially as my gaze rose, taking in the devastation around us.

The ashen deserts continued in all directions, the forest itself torn up and incinerated in the explosion. It wasn’t until halfway to the horizon that individual charred trunks of the ancient trees lingered, growing thicker and thicker until, on the edge of the horizon, a few green blotches mixed amongst the gray. The skyship was nowhere to be seen, but my vision was still blurry, muddying the details of anything more than a few hundred feet away.

I turned, dread knotting in my stomach, toward the city, and gasped. There it was. Duskwood. Not ash, fire, and death, but a verdant green with trees that broke the sky like castle towers. The Shining Aegis. My ward was no longer there, but it must have held long enough, enduring the fires of the cannon until the end. There was no transition between thick forest and ash, no gradient, but a perfect, unnerving line. A circle of green in a wasteland of gray and dying fires.

But despite my relief, tears welled up in my eyes. Everything I had managed to seal within my Aegis had been preserved, yet so much had fallen short of my barrier. All of the settlements, villages, and towns without the walls were just...gone. Erased. How many dead? How many had fallen because of my choice?

”Luke....Korra...” I whimpered, fingers curling into my skirt. As much as I wanted to cry, I couldn’t afford to fall apart now. Fyren alone I knew lived; I had to find the others.

”Zephyriss,” I whispered hoarsely, gripping my staff a little tighter.

Using what little of my mana had returned, I summoned a gate, drawing Zephyriss through. Behind her, as the portal closed, I beheld the city from within. Shouts and screams rolled through, intruding upon the solemnity of the ash. The fires of war burned, and figures sprinted across the streets, bearing the crimson thread. It was an entirely different world.

And then it closed, and the storm demon was at my side, gently lifting me from Fable’s back.

”Oracle, you’re...alive,” Zephyriss said, lifting a few feet off the ground, bearing me in her arms.

”barely.” I forced a weak smile, but it quickly faded. ”Please, help me. I have to find them.”

She didn’t bother asking and waved her hand. Six magic circles appeared, opening small portals of their own. The overwhelming stench of fire gave way to a breath of fresh air, tainted by rain, as a half dozen storm demons crawled out, taking to the skies.

”Rest, my Lady. I’ll dig them from the lava, if I have to.”

”No, not this time.” I squirmed, struggling to sit up in her arms.

She gave me a strange look and set me down again. I stumbled as my feet sank in the ash to the top of my boots. I whimpered, biting my tongue as heat radiated from the cinders, and hoped from foot to foot, somehow managing to crawl onto Fable’s back again. The immediate coolness of his aura washed over me.

”Oh? Not so keen to walk, after all?” Zephyriss asked.

I scowled. It wasn’t fair. Their bodies were so strong that they passively projected their mana around them, a shield against the elements. How was I supposed to know everything was still hot?

Fable rose, shaking the cinders from his coat. I squeaked and straddled him, grabbing the thick fur around his neck to keep from being tossed off. His wounds had entirely recovered, though his soul remained weakened, nearly depleted of mana.

”I’ve found one,” Zephyriss said, turning sharply to the north, away from the crater and city beyond.

I nodded and hunched low over Fable’s shoulder. He took off after the storm demon, bounding across the wasteland. The breeze generated by our passing rekindled the embers, kicking up clouds of glowing orange cinders and leaving deep furrows in the ash behind us.

After a quarter mile, Zephyriss zipped to the ground, releasing a fifth-level art. Wind exploded from her wings, scouring the ash away. As the vortex widened, it revealed the melted bedrock and remnant tangles of ancient root systems. Fable released his aura, keeping the ensuing ash storm from consuming us. At the center, having been entirely submerged, was a cocoon of magically enhanced roots and branches.

”R’lissea!” I cried, sliding off Fable’s back as the ash settled back to the ground. I’d recovered enough mana to renew my low-level wards, protecting me from the worst of the heat and filth.

With a wave of my staff, I dispelled the spell. The plants receded, opening like a blooming rose to reveal the life hero. She was pale as a ghost, but her chest rose faintly. Her hands clutched her side, soaked in blood.

I dropped to my knees, gathering her in my arms. ”R’lissea! You’re alive!”