The Forsaken Hero

Chapter 1115: Victory and Loss

Luxaria soared across the battlefield, trailing shattered stars in her wake, climbing toward Soltair. The Star Guard rushed to us, covered in cuts and scrapes. Luxxa’s shield was cracked in the center, and Jenna had a long cut on her arm, but otherwise, they were okay.

More than okay. I smiled faintly as I glanced at Gith and Jenna. Their legs trembled, and their faces were streaked with blood, grime, and exhaustion, but their soul glowed. Seventh level.

"We couldn’t hold her," Luxxa panted, dropping to one knee, her head bowed. "Forgive us, my lady. She was too strong."

I took her hand, raising her. "You did wonderfully. Luke’s only alive because of you. Thank you."

She stood, sagging with relief.

"I couldn’t stop her, either," I said, looking up into the sky.

"Your spell was never meant to," Fyren said, folding his arms. "It would be rather ridiculous if you could cover an entire battlefield in a ward capable of stopping a dragon’s full power charge."

"Do you think he’s going to be alright?" I asked worriedly.

"I can help him, if you wish, but I’d rather not reveal myself to them," Fyren answered.

"No, it won’t last long. One way or the other," I whispered. My hands curled into fists. "I believe in him."

The Hero and Apostle separated as Luxario arrived in a blaze of glory. Soltair settled on her back again, and their light became one.

The next moment, he raised his sword and began to gather mana. Luke charged at him, but Luxaria met him with her claws. Her blood rained from the sky as his sword cleaved through her scales, slicing through effortlessly what the Star Guard had tried so hard to breach. Curses erupted from her wounds, afflicting her body with a dozen maladies, from weakening her scales to leaving her more vulnerable to his attacks.

But the dragon served her purpose, battered and bleeding though she now was.

"Solar Judgment!"

With a shout that rang across the skies, Soltair brought his sword down, unleashing a hammer of sun magic so bright it appeared as a second sun alongside his soul. What few shadows had survived his aura were blasted into memory, the night retreating miles in all directions. The sky itself turned blue, the stars hiding as if it were noon. I had to shield my eyes against its glare, goosebumps and tingles erupting across my delicate body.

Something broke from the expanding day, streaking across the sky like a falling star. A single mote of darkness in the light. Fable reacted instantly, racing on an intercept course. He stood in his true form, almost two hundred feet from his nose to the tip of his tail, yet moving so quickly he left afterimages behind. His oversized paws scattered the hordes in his way, trampling demons to death. In the blink of an eye, he was a mile away, sonic booms rippling off his coat.

Fable pounced on the darkness, catching it on his side. The collision sent them both smashing to the ground, obliterating a knoll. He slid into the side of a mountain, carving a deep furrow a hundred feet long into the earth. The mountain shuddered, collapsing in on itself as it absorbed the impact, burying them in a cascade of earth and stone.

"Fable!" I cried, covering my mouth. And Luke, a small voice whispered inside. Some part of me had realized what that falling star had been.

The ridge trembled as the shockwave reached us, traveling through the ground. I grabbed onto Luxxa for support. Borealis squawked on my shoulder, flapping his wings.

"Is he...?" I asked, staring at the fallen ridge. Fable was alive and well, but Luke...? My hand curled against my chest, my tail twitching back and forth.

No one had an answer.

The light in the sky slowly faded, revealing Luxaria with her wings spread, gliding on currents of mana. Soltair still shone too brightly to see more than his silhouette, but it was slumped over, exhausted. They wheeled in a great, lazy loop over the silent battlefield before turning north and vanishing.

I let out a pent-up breath, sagging against Luxxa. She placed a heavy arm around my back, resting a gauntleted hand on my shoulder. It pressed dirt and blood into my dress, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even feel the cold metal of her breastplate.

"Luke..." I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. My breathing stuttered.

"He’ll be fine, my Lady," Jenna stared, staring after Soltair. "He’s strong."

"I...I know." I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I was surprised to find I actually believed her. My tears were of relief. Soltair had retreated, lifting a weight from my shoulders I hadn’t known I was carrying. In its place was a flood of exhaustion and emotion.

The distant mountain shifted, and Fable rose from the rubble, shaking boulders off his silver coat. A few curious demons had ventured near, but he scared them off with a low growl and bounded toward us.

Fyren leaped onto his back as he drew to a stop, and appeared moments later, dropping the fifty or so feet to my side. He landed in a crouch, Luke slung over his shoulder. My hand flew to my mouth as he carefully eased him down, setting him on his back. Borealis fluttered off me as I dropped to my knees, pulling Luke into my arms.

Luke was bloody and blackened, with thick veins of sunpurge laced across flesh exposed in the rips and tears in his armor. For a moment, he didn’t move, and my heart dropped. But then he stole a shaky breath, and his eyes fluttered, but didn’t open. I let out a choked sob and hugged him tight, not caring that his blood stained my dress and cheek.

"Requiem," I breathed, letting my mana flow over him.

The sunpurge cracked and retreated, exposing the jagged wounds underneath. Long lacerations from Soltair’s sword marred his flesh, digging deep to the bone in multiple places. The scar on his left face was hidden by a cut. I took extra care to leave the scar as I mended his wounds, caressing it with a gentle finger, wiping blood from the shallow groove. I might have taken his corruption from him, but I couldn’t possibly steal this from him as well.

And, well, I didn’t hate it. At first, it had been a little off-putting, a reminder of a battle he’d lost. But now...

I shook my head, taking back my hand. Now wasn’t the time for those kinds of thoughts.

"The Sun Hero’s gone, and the horde has taken the city. The path into Radia is ours," Fyren murmured, gazing across the blood-stained valley. "The Fatesworn have retreated south of here, holding up in a valley on the other side of the mountains. We should join them. You have some decisions to make."

"Right." I brushed the hair out of Luke’s eyes, unable to resist touching his cheek again. A light pink dusted my cheeks as I remembered the last time I’d held him like this, when he’d fallen asleep watching over me. Or rather, the time he hadn’t been asleep.

Rising, I let Kahlen and Luxxa lift Luke by the arms and summoned a gate to Haven. As they carried him through, there was a pang in my heart, a yearning to stay by him as he stayed by me. But Fyren was right, there was much to be done, and no one but me to do it.

"Wait for me," I whispered, clasping a hand to my chest. "Wait for me, Luke."

I straightened, brushing a tear from my eye, and let the gate close.

"Fyren, please find out who’s in charge of Luke’s horde. He wouldn’t like it if they scattered into Radia."

"Agreed. Losing control of them now would be disastrous for the invasion."

He departed first, leaving me, Fable, and Borealis to follow the Primordial Mark to where the Fatesworn had made camp. They were a few miles from the city, in a sheltered valley between two towering peaks. A small river ran through the middle of their camp, tinted with crimson streaks of blood running from rags and soaking bandages. The mages had expended most of their mana, forcing them to resort to mundane means.

"My Lady!" a sentry cried, greeting us as Fable landed at the entrance. He’d returned to his small form, but I still took an offered hand and thanked the soldier who helped me to the ground.

"Where’s Korra?" I asked, looking around.

The Fatesworn had somehow found time to pitch white canvas tents. They were neat, orderly rows, but the uneven ground and elevation made it difficult to look for anything.

"The Commander is with the Heroes, and the Apostle in the Command Tent came the answer. "How fared the battle?"

"Fine. We won, but..." I took a breath. "We won. The demons are securing the region around us."

The nearby soldiers shivered. They knew as well as I what that meant.

Giving them a slight curtsy, I turned and entered the camp of the Fatesworn, passing through the rows of tents and nodding politely as squads greeted me. A few demons were overly friendly, approaching to rub their heads against me, and I couldn’t resist scratching some of the more... normal-looking ones behind the ear.

As I approached the command tent in the center, Bethiv’s voice rose into the air, holding a hint of anger I’d rarely heard from the measured soldier.

"You let the hero get away?"