The Forsaken Hero

The Fatesworn cleared the center of the Radian market for me, dragging corpses away and shoving aside blocks of rubble and ruined carts. I stepped over a broken wheel, holding my tail clear of a cracked stain of dried blood. Once I had space, the soldiers pulled back, eyes lowered reverently, a few whispering prayers. My stomach knotted beneath the weight of their faith. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Ninth level. A realm of myth and legend, reached by only a handful in any age. The peak of mortality. The threshold of immortality. To transcend it meant becoming a person whose every step shook the foundations of the world.

Selena, the most talented elf to live in over a thousand years, had trained for literal decades just for the chance to reach those heights. Then there was Soltair, blessed by the gods, with the resources of an entire world at his disposal. And Luke, who had broken and pillaged kingdoms and empires, stealing their power and Shards for himself.

They, and others just as powerful and extraordinary, had reached that peak. They were the strongest of the strong, unbreakable in their convictions no matter the price, indomitable on the field of battle. Kings, emperors, Fathers, inquisitors...all were naught before their might.

And then there was me.

Cursed by the gods, studying magic for only a handful of years. Everything I had, I had learned through pain and tears. My only advantage was the divinity of fate I carried within me. It had accelerated my growth beyond reason, but every star it infused into my soul came with a price.

And that burden might very well kill me. Even if I survived, my soul and body would begin to atrophy beneath its weight. The moment I took this step, my fate would be sealed.

But my fate had been sealed before, and back then, my death had meant nothing. Now, I had the chance to make it mean something.

No star burned forever. They were never meant to. Stars were there to guide people through the dark, and no further. When the dawn broke, every hope they carried, every spark they kindled, vanished with it, fulfilled as the shadows faded into memory.

If I were to fade, then let it be for that end. I would burn bright enough, fierce enough, to pierce the darkest of nights and usher in the dawn. I didn’t mind being cast aside, or forgotten. Just so long as there was someone who could forget.

”Xiviyah?”

Verity’s hand on my shoulder broke my reverie. She gazed into my eyes. I could sense her worry, see the slight part in her lips as she sought the right words.

”I’m alright. Just...thinking.”

”The time for thought has passed. If you had doubts, you should have expressed them earlier, when you proposed this plan.”

Her words were sharp, but I didn’t feel their sting. I gave her a small, reassuring smile. ”I have no doubts, only convictions. If fate truly has chosen our path, then it shall guide my hands.”

”And if not?”

”Then what use is there in worrying? We’ve chosen our path. Let us see where it leads together.”

”I...be careful, alright?” She embraced me, cool and breezy, without warmth. I hugged her back, and she whispered in my ear, ”I don’t think fate is as written as you make it out to be.”

I nodded, a lump in my throat. Maybe she was right, but I also couldn’t account for the fact that I had survived countless times when I shouldn’t have. Something had brought me here, not that it bothered me. It was where I needed to be.

Verity dissolved into starlight, hiding somewhere in my aura. Left alone, I cast a seventh-level Ring of Sorcery Emilca had taught me, stabilizing the mana around me. It was like tightening the laces of my boot, giving form and support. It had been a while since I’d learned it, but because it was immobile, inscribed across the ground itself, I rarely found opportunity to cast it. Too many battles had forced me to flee or move without rest.

Next, I took the Aetherial Lantern from my waist, placing my palm against it. My soul didn’t have enough capacity to support a ninth-level spell on its own, and while Adaptive Resistance provided me with a strong, steady flow, I didn’t dare accept the mana into my soul directly. An eighth-level spell would be enough to overwhelm my cycle and disrupt my concentration, which could prove catastrophic. Better to bind my soul to the lantern, using it as a secondary mana source and buffer for incoming mana.

It was more dangerous this way than how I normally used it, as if I lost possession of the lantern, my soul would remain joined, and with it, access to my soul. But if that happened, that meant the battle was already lost.

With the Ring secured, and preparations for sufficient mana in place, there was only one thing remaining. I tapped my spatial ring and withdrew a spellbook.

”What Once Was Shall Come Again,” I whispered, tracing the title.

It had felt like a lifetime ago that Elaine had pressed this ancient, weathered tome into my hands. I’d spent countless hours pouring over its pages, whispering lengths of chant, and forming small snippets of its circles. Emlica had personally taught me every rune and word within its pages, walking me through one by one until I understood their role and purpose in the spell.

The time had come. I could delay no longer. I breathed deeply and released the full weight of my aura. Currents of gold swirled around me, taking the book and lantern from my hands and lifting my feet from the ground. Only a few inches, but enough to send butterflies in my stomach. I gestured with my hand, and the book opened to the first page.

I began to cast. Slow and steady, unrushed like I had in the Solari mountains. Back then, time was everything. Even if I failed and perished from the backlash, I was going to die anyway. Right now, I couldn’t afford not to succeed.

The start was hard. My hands shook slightly, and my will wavered, each rune flickering as it appeared. My eyes strayed upward. There was no hiding my aura, nor the immense pressure that began to gather. Mana thickened in a storm, swirling around me in a veritable cyclone of light and drifting stars. It rose into the sky like a beacon, piercing the gathering clouds and opening a rift to the starlit sky beyond.

It looked like Haven’s skies. I closed my eyes, bathing in the starlight for a few soothing moments. My breathing slowed, and my heart calmed. When my eyes opened, they glowed softly, and my hands no longer shook. The runes began to form with confidence, blinking in the tens and hundreds. Rapidly, the first circle took shape, small at first, rotating around me at chest height. But as the runes piled up, it grew upward and outward. It stabilized just within the perimeter of the Shining Aegis, casting mottled light and shadows across the broken market.

Fatesworn retreated from me, pressured by the weight of the spell. I hardly noticed, enraptured with the feelings of warmth and bliss rushing through me. Never before had I commanded so much mana. I could feel the divinity inside resonating, adding its melody to my song. It was exhilarating, drawing me on to the next rune, the next circle.

As the third circle completed, a sudden impact struck the Shining Aegis, sending a ripple of power across its surface. The Aetherial Prism blazed with light as it absorbed a tremendous amount of mana, and I was suddenly grateful I’d made the preparations I had. That much definitely would have overloaded my soul’s cycle.

”It’s King Vorinth,” Verity said softly, to not startle me. ”He’s rallied the kingdom’s army, and is leading them against the Fatesworn. There must be two hundred thousand of them.”

It was a bad idea, but my worry got the better of me. I let some small part of my mind wander, soaking in everything that was happening in the three-mile radius my aura enveloped. As Verity said, the Fatesworn were hard-pressed from all directions. Soldiers wearing the colors of Radia and the church swarmed through every street and alley. Archers stole across rooftops, and mages unleashed hellish volleys from perches on flying ships. Everywhere I looked, there was fighting, blood, and death. Almost none of it was Fatesworn.

I watched as a small team of elves and blade demons broke into a city guard barracks, only for an enemy mage to detonate a Fireball in their midst. It was a fourth-level spell, consuming the entire first floor and rupturing through windows and doors out onto the street. But when the smoke cleared, the third-level Fatesworn were completely unharmed. I recognized flickers of Adaptive Resistance surrounding them, startling me in a way Verity never could have.

I hadn’t cast a Nexus on them. My only magic was on my friends and the market that served as our base. Bethiv had once mentioned to me that their souls were absorbing Haven’s power, but to this extent? The Fate Demons I could understand, but the humans and elves? That was a fourth-level spell, and they were only third! Were they even mortal anymore?