The Forsaken Hero

Verity was much stronger than I anticipated. She had been summoned months after I’d been found, and begun my own journey, and had only managed to reach the beginning stages of the seventh level the last time I’d seen her. In the few months since then, she’d climbed an entire level and was now in the beginning stages of eighth.

Her combat had evolved to the point that if I didn’t know her soul, I would have questioned whether it was even the same person. She moved with the skill and grace of a veteran soldier, easily weaving between Fable’s claws and finding ample opportunity to counterattack. That she’d been able to stand on even ground against Gayron, who had been training nonstop with remnants and demons, was nothing short of miraculous. She might even be better than him with a sword, though she fell behind in power and speed.

Fable, annoyed with the pesky silver blade stinging his hide, finally had enough. With a growl, he stepped back, gathering mana in his legs. Verity, predicting the move, flowed fluidly into an aggressive posture. She blurred, streaking between his legs just under his maw. Fable reared back as her sword drew a line through his neck, ripping through fur and muscle with unnatural sharpness. Fable yelped, recoiling, but she struck thrice more, stabbing into the wound before it could heal. Crimson blood splashed across her gleaming wards, dying them red.

Regaining his footing, Fable released his mana in an eighth-level art. Green light washed across his claws, forming shimmering, translucent extensions with a wicked curve. Verity startled back as he leaped at her, moving with speed two or three times greater than before.

She cried out as he battered her to the side, her wards flaring. Cracks spread across the silver barrier as she slammed into the ground, breaking the valley floor with deep fissures. She gasped for breath as she bounced off the ground, sucking all her mana into her body.

Before she could recover, Fable materialized above her, striking from above. Her wards shattered with the sound of breaking glass, sending silver starlight scattering around her. They bought her just enough time for her to twist around, Fable’s claws descending where she’d been with brutal force.

The ground shuddered as Fable hit, the earth heaving with literal waves radiating outward from the impact like ripples on a pond. The crests loomed over me, and Gayron tensed, half reaching for me, but I waved my staff, splitting the incoming wall of rock asunder. It divided on either side of me, but even with the ground still, the energy underfoot vibrated into my legs, and my knees buckled, completely numb.

I dropped to one knee, coughing as thick clouds of dust choked the air, flowing between the rising and falling tides of earth. The ground slowly settled, jagged and broken with ridges, pillars, and gaping troughs. What was he thinking, using such a massive attack like that? Didn’t he know I was right here?

My soul tingled, and I looked around, drowning in the darkness and smoke. Gayron’s hand closed around my arm, dwarfing my bicep in an iron grip. I cried out as he plucked me off my feet, and suddenly, we were both airborne, shooting sideways. His arms encircled me, smothering my scream as a silver comet broke from the dust, tearing through the space we’d been. Vicious windblades tore from it as it passed, splitting rocky formations and sending us spinning.

The comet slammed into a heavy spire the size of a castle tower. It cracked, splintering like wood, and collapsed, kicking up another storm of debris.

We hit the side of a stone wall hard, falling in a tangled heap to the ground. Gayron was up in a flash, lifting to my feet with one hand, his other clutching his sword. I stared at it groggily. When did he have time to draw that?

As I gathered myself, shaking off his hand, I felt my hip and winced. It was already starting to bruise. I really had to stop getting thrown around like that.

Verity stumbled out of the billowing clouds, a trickle of blood leaking from the corner of her lips. Her silver armor was scratched and tarnished, and she held her sword in a desperate death grip with one hand, clutching her side with the other. The mail on her left side had been torn open, revealing a deep laceration longer than her hand could cover. Blood pulsed between her fingers with every heartbeat, running down her armor, pooling in the cracks.

Fable hadn’t missed, it seemed.

She shook her head, panting in white-faced pain. Her eyes focused on me, and her grip tightened.

”I won’t lose,” she gasped, ”That divinity belongs to my god!”

I straightened slowly, and she faltered, her hands trembling. I didn’t blame her, almost turning myself to see Fable looming behind me. He must have cut a grim visage, covered in his own blood, yet without a single visible wound.

”Even cursed, you feel fear,” I wondered, giving her a sad smile. ”I don’t want to hurt you.”

”S-shut up.” Her jaw clenched, and she took a step toward us. She raised her sword, the tip wobbling slightly. ”I won’t lose to demons. I won’t let this world suffer because I’m too weak. Even if it costs me everything, I won’t let you hurt any more people.”

Korra had been right. There was no point engaging with those bound by the heart crest. They had their memories, mannerisms, and experience, but without their will, they were nothing more than puppets.

”Who holds your bond?” I whispered. ”Who holds the strings to your heart?”

”I serve no master,” she spat, wiping the blood from her lips. ”I’m the hero of fate, not its slave. I will see this world fulfill its destiny in the plans of the gods. Soltair will bring the light we need. He will cleanse the darkness from this land. It’s my only hope that I get to remain by his side until he does.”

I sighed, my tail drooping. She couldn’t have made it more clear if she tried, but that couldn’t be worse for me. Breaking a curse meant using Liberate on either the inflicter or the victim. Verity’s soul was too powerful to break with a Liberate, and as for Soltair...I might as well give up on the idea.

Or, perhaps not. I pursed my lips as she attacked, barely flinching when Fable intercepted her. The resulting rush of wind tossed my hair and clawed at my skirt.

Verity was weakening. Minutes of prolonged, high-level battle had worn on her strength and speed. Her movements, while still untraceable in the moment, were growing sluggish. Her chest heaved with ragged breath.

And Fable was...fine. He moved with the same careful deliberacy he always did, never too fast, and never too slow. It might have been my imagination, but his aura almost felt thicker than before; the starlight clustered more densely around his soul. That couldn’t be, though. I was just comparing his unwavering strength against Verity.

”Damn, no wonder Korra never lets me fight him,” Gayron murmured, folding his arms. His gaze was fixed intently on the fight.

When I looked at him, he smiled sheepishly, rubbing his horn.

”He’s always hanging around the colosseum, but every time I try to pick a fight, Korra drags me away. I’ve only ever seen him spar with the remnants.”

”You mean Fable?” I asked.

He gave me a flat look, and I ducked my head.

”Rumor has it he took out a ninth-level by himself at Darkreign Keep,” he said. ”I didn’t even think that was possible. Not even ninth-levels are supposed to be able to kill other ninth-levels in a straight-up fight. They should always be able to retreat.”

I opened my mouth, but he shifted in front of me. His sword blurred, deflecting an errant burst of Verity’s mana from me. It flew wide, slamming into my ward with enough force to crack it.

”They couldn’t,” I whispered, looking down. ”But Fable is...”

”Unnatural?” he offered.

I broke a smile, shaking my head. ”Special.”

”Then how are they still fighting? Shouldn’t he have killed her by now? He can just stop time and finish it.”

I hesitated, glancing at Verity. Her last blow had left her off-balance, allowing Fable to sweep her off his feet. He spun around, slashing claws longer than she was tall. They sliced through her armor like paper, nearly severing her arm before catching on her bone. The blow sent her flying, crushing through a ridge.

I didn’t miss my chance, leveling my staff with her as she staggered back to her feet, her back to us. Blood poured down her arm, slicking her gauntlet.

”Liberate!”

The beam of golden light shot across the valley. She couldn’t have noticed; I was too careful with my aura, but at the last second, she threw herself out of the way. When she rolled to her feet, life magic slowly knitting her wounds together, her glare fell on me.

”That’s why,” I said, lowering my staff, ”If Fable slips into Fate, I’m afraid the at most risk will be me.”