The Forsaken Hero

Verity could get her body back? If there were even a small chance I could restore her form, I would gladly take it. The gods had stolen my body from me with curses and torture. I hated the idea of letting them do the same to her.

”Then I’m going to fight!” Verity said, flying to help Arantius.

Fate caught my hand before I could call Fable. ”Wait, child, you might feel powerful, but it is an illusion. You’ve cleverly diverted the inheritance to Haven, but it is inevitable.”

”I know,” I said in a small voice.

”You stand between the realms, commanding ninth-level powers without having a fully realized ninth-level soul. Most take weeks or months to adjust and consolidate their realm. Allow me to make up the difference.”

She held my hand between hers and pressed firmly. I gasped as a cool, soothing sensation flowed into my hand and up my arm, radiating until it filled my body. The violent itch and shudders slowly faded until I took a long, free breath, my tail sagging in relief.

”What did you do?” I asked.

She smiled and let go of my hand. ”I merely reorganized your soul’s cycle. It won’t last forever, though. As you continue to soak up more power, it will naturally destabilize again.”

I nodded, starting to thank her, when a furious scream rent the air.

”You! You are dead!”

In a blitz of fury, Fate tore toward us, blasting past Arantius. I had just enough time to scramble back before he had breached the Fatesworn’s line and swung his sword, cutting Fate in half. His blade carved a line through her chest, separating her like a cloud of vapor. I screamed, covering my mouth, but she simply frowned, her body reforming in its perfect state.

”Impossible. How can this be?” Fate asked, jumping back, glaring at her. ”You have no faith. You have no kingdom. How could you possibly exist?”

”No faith, perhaps, but you did leave me one here,” Fate said, flying to me, lacing her arms around me like a parent did a child.

Fate’s eyes narrowed, filled with fiery hatred. ”You bound your existence to this mortal’s soul? This child? No, it had to be the staff. Did you not think I would come to claim it? How conceited,” he spat.

Arantius appeared between us again. He remained calm and collected, but his very form shuddered, growing jagged around the edges. His voice was cold as oblivion. ”Hold your tongue, betrayer. You’re not worthy to speak to the goddess.”

”Goddess?” Fate sneered. ”What goddess? She has no power, no kingdom, no divinity. She’s simply a memory that refuses to fade. A corpse that won’t rot. It is the way of existence: old things give way to new. Why do you refuse to accept it.”

”Old, new, these things are the same. All that was once was, and all that will be shall be. If you cannot understand that, then you cannot wield the divinity of fate. You could never, even should you take it from this child’s corpse,” Fate answered.

”Corpse? Hah, you would bait me into losing all this?” he asked, gesturing around, taking in the battle, the stars, and the remnants. ”A fledgling divine kingdom, built with a personal army and full descent capabilities. Such things would take a millennium to acquire on my own. No, I won’t kill the mortal, not until she’s given it all to me. It might take time to rip it from her soul, but there will be plenty of time. This war is over. You’ve lost, fate. You lost the instant you made an enemy of the sun god. All that’s left is to turn to the final page.”

”Hmm, the final page, is it? Do you know what follows the end of a story? There are no more Chapters, no time to enjoy the power you’ve stolen. I’m afraid things are in motion that you cannot stop. The will of fate has made itself known, and its will is immutable.”

”Ridiculous. Your own oracle claims the future is not written. Not that it changes anything.”

Fate shook her head sadly. ”To burden a child with the expectation of omniscience...how cruel. She is young and inexperienced, knowing only what fate has subjected her to. Tell me, how can you suppose fate cannot be written, and then expect to write it yourself?”

”A god does not wait on what might be. He chooses what shall be. Everything else must rearrange itself or fall before him. Demons, arbiters, mortals...their fate is written, but we gods are authors.”

”No.” Something about that single word made the stars around us stir. ”Fate touches every soul, and in kind, is touched by it. Every kindness, every sorrow, every blessing, every curse. None of this is vain. The Father did not create puppets to march on paths lined with their strings.”

”You speak as though he still lives. The Father is dead and gone, a forgotten memory for even the most ancient elder gods. His will, his desire, matters no more than the lowest mortals. The cycle–”

”Must come to an end. What was meant as armor has turned into a prison. Those who stood as guardians have become the oppressors.”

”The cycle preserves existence. Without it, all eternity should fall to the corruption of the infernal realms.”

”All? Gods and demons play their games with mortal worlds and mortal pawns. Which world was preserved when gates first appeared? Which realms suffered when the fires of war descended? Gods and demons, the heritors of the cycle, have sought to preserve nothing but themselves. They’ve forgotten the Father’s work, and the Father’s will. But fate cannot forget, for the river may flow across a thousand paths, yet still shall it end up at the sea.”

”And you think destroying the cycle honors him?”

Fate smiled faintly. ”I intend to fulfill it. The Divine Cycle shall die, and those that the Father loved will finally live as he wished them to. Free and unbound, loosed to be the authors of their own fates.”

”Mortals? You would place them as gods?” Fate sneered. ”What do you care for mortals? You, who stood by and watched as billions of your own followers were slaughtered across countless worlds? You did nothing when your temples were thrown down in holy crusades, and your heroes reduced to exiles and heretics. They prayed for your help, for your light, and yet you forsook them to the dark. The final star shone on their pain, and led them not.”

Fate shifted, holding me a little closer. ”How could I call others to war, to sacrifice everything they are and could become, if I was not willing to do the same? Who could lose more than a god? I do not watch their suffering from afar. I do not ask them to pay the price alone.”

I lowered my head, trembling from head to tail. ”If there is a star that should shine, let it shine in the dark,” I whispered.

Fate was quiet for a long time before his grip on his sword tightened. ”I cannot allow you to cast our inheritance–my inheritance–to the dust of the realms. Once the other gods have learned of your treachery and your schemes, they shall stop their pointless revolt and return to the fold of the order. Such is the decree of fate!”

He flew into the air, shedding blinding silver light. Arantius and Verity reacted instantly, streaking toward him. Fate clasped his sword with both hands and raised it over his head.

”You think mortals stand equal to gods? I care not for your realm any longer. Just that your divinity becomes mine, and your schemes come to naught!” he roared, channeling an overwhelming amount of power into his blade. ”Witness the end of your rebellion!”

He swept his sword down, unleashing a ninth-level art. It cut through space and time, leaving a black fissure in its wake. It filled my vision, moving faster than thought. My wards exploded, absorbing the brunt of the attack. And then Fate himself was there, suddenly, and I felt searing pain in my chest. I looked down, lips parted dumbly, speckled with blood bubbling up my throat. A sword slid out from between my ribs, dyed red. My vision wavered, turning dark, and I fell to the ground.

Death was cold and very, very dark. One by one, my bonds slipped away. Haven, the Primordial Mark, Fable, even Luke. My flesh grew heavy, dragging on my soul, but that soon faded, bringing me the same freedom I looked forward to in my soul space. Only this time, there were no comforting stars or visions. Only the abyss beckoning me into the cleansing power of oblivion.

And then, as I wavered on the edge, warmth surrounded me again. Before I knew it, I was standing again, the light of Enusia flooding back into my eyes. The pain was gone, but I gasped, groping at my chest, and found the skin unblemished. Arantius had engaged fate again, their swords crossing in the sky. The god’s lips were curled in a smirk, but then he caught my eye, and it faltered.

I straightened, summoned my staff, and embraced my mana. I looked at Fate, who nodded, wearing a faint, amused smile, and said, ”Arantius, please, go all out. There’s no need to hold back. No one’s dying today but the usurper.”