The Forsaken Hero

Luke’s command caught the assembly of demons off guard, the sudden authority in his voice cutting through the ambient tension of the chamber. After a momentary, stunned silence, the shifting form of the water demon flowed forward, its translucent surface rippling with agitation as it leveled an accusatory glare at him.

"Your leadership has brought about the ruin of our invasion. You delayed the invasion for a plan that has cost almost half of the horde. Seven million returned to the Infernal Realms. And for what? Mortal hubris. Were that all, it would be acceptable, but your failure to follow your own plan gave the Divine time to call down one of their own. A divine descent on this scale has not been seen in thousands of years. It would be more effective to detonate our marks and return to the Infernal Realms of our own accord than play out the losing battles of this charade."

"Aqueas speaks the truth," Lord Bloodsteel said.

I glanced at Fyren, who shook his head. No curse demon mark.

"I had high hopes after the initial success of your plan, but what has ensued is nothing short of folly," the blade demon continued. "Enusia is worth more than any other realm in this age of conflict, and yet you have proven your willingness to choose the luxury of your oracle over the necessity of this invasion."

Lord Bloodsteel had always sided with Luke, and even now, there was no anger in his words. He spoke only the truth.

And that truth was my fault. Luke had chosen me again and again, promising me, and himself, there would still be time. It would cost more, take longer, and be much harder, but it could be done. Now, with Fate standing before us, prophecy or no, I couldn’t see a way.

"Is that all?" Luke folded his arms, his gaze unwavering.

"There is a solution to this predicament, but it cannot come from the Apostles’ leadership," a slimy, slithering voice said. The curse demon glided forward, between the blade and water demon lords.

"We’ve heard your arguments, but I remain unconvinced of their merit," Lord Bloodsteel said, frowning in displeasure. "You may represent the curse demon faction, but you are not granted the right to speak in this council."

"You speak for Rash’alon?" Luke asked. Finally, there was a hint of iron in his voice. "I killed him already. What need has he to contribute to this council?"

The demon cackled, rubbing its clawed hands together. "Killed, but not gone. That is the difference between mortals and true demons. So long as there is power and will, there is a way. And that way has led him here."

The demon spread his hands, and the darkness coalesced. A pressure built against Enusia, the tides of infernal mana reacting with violent resonance. A ninth-level form emerged, taking shape from the curses themselves. As its aura broke in full, weight leveraged against my chest, and blood trickled down the corner of my lips. I wiped it away with my hand, and it came away black. From an aura?

"R’lissea...?" I whimpered, finding it hard to breathe, much less speak.

I could feel her panting against me, her heartbeat swift and erratic as mine. Her hands were pale and bloodless, her aura wavering. I wasn’t alone. All of my companions looked strained. Even the demons shivered and shrank, all except for Fyren, whose eyes were locked onto the curse demon lord himself.

"Greetings," Rash ’alon hissed, looking around the council. "It has been long since we gathered in the flesh like this. I apologize for communicating through the shadows until now. Certain matters have made doing otherwise difficult."

"So, you managed to breach ninth-level," Lord Bloodsteel said, an edge to his voice. "I have heard nothing of this matter. How could such a thing be possible?"

"I made certain...arrangements with diverse parties. Heroes, priests, Fathers...none of it matters now. They were merely a means to an end. What does matter is that I have discovered a way to correct the invasion, despite the apostles’ lethal blunders."

"What is this method?" Aquaes asked. "Your servant spoke highly of it, but would not divulge the secret."

"Simple. If we wish to conquer this world, then we must bypass the avatar of Fate. He has stated his condition for this bluntly. Isn’t that right, Apostle?" Rash’alon asked, grinning at Luke.

I shrank back, coughing again. More black blood. My tail curled in fear, but for Luke, not me. He was still weak. He couldn’t let the demon goad him.

"Surrender the Oracle," Luke said simply.

Silence reigned as the demon and mortal alike turned to stare at him. My lips parted in a silent gasp, for my lungs had no breath to give.

"He would crush the world for us, if he but receives his prize," Luke continued. "Is that the condition you were speaking of?"

"You admit it freely? You knew, and yet hesitated? Why is the girl still here, then?" Rash’alon hissed, stretching a clawed hand toward me. "Why is Enusia not yours?"

Luke didn’t answer.

"Hmph. It matters not. The reality is, the god does need the oracle, but her staff. It should be the simple, unanimous decision of this council to agree to his terms. As per his bargain, Fate himself shall lay waste to the armies of the divine on our behalf, and we need only march up and claim our prize. Not even you could reject such a clean offer, Apostle. Does this not give you everything you want? You could be free of your failures, and redeem the soul of your sister. I will stand aside from the World Shard, as will the others, I’m certain, and you can claim its power for yourself. We need not be enemies, for in the time of eternity, we could prove valuable allies on worlds that haven’t even been formed yet."

Luke nodded slowly, a frown creasing his face. "And you would do the honors of conveying the staff to the church?"

"Of course. I’ve already established a channel. I could guarantee it would be done on my word," he hissed.

Luke considered his offer, and my hands balled in my lap. What was he doing? Was he really going to accept? He...he knew that I couldn’t just give up my--

"You are aware that there is no way to separate the staff from the Oracle save by her death, are you not?" Luke asked.

"One life. One small, insignificant life, and this war shall be at its end. One life, and you can finally gain your vengeance."

Luke’s tail flicked slightly, and my heart sank. That wasn’t fear, or indecision. It only moved like that once he’d made up his mind.

"What of the rest of you?"

Every single demon lord nodded in grim, heavy unison—with the sole exception of Firemane, who shifted his weight, his hooves striking the stone with an uneasy clatter. The fire demon lord’s gaze locked onto Fyren, who remained entirely unmoved, watching the unfolding scene with a cold, impenetrable impassivity.

"None can argue that this would resolve the invasion. Conquering Enusia would be a tremendous leap forward in the plans of the emperor," Lord Bloodsteel said. "The Oracle has done well to bring us this far, but perhaps she can take us further still. I understand your qualms, and your attachment, but you must remember mortal lives are fleeting. Once you ascend, she will be as an insect."

"What will it be, apostle?" Rash’alon asked, silky smooth. "Give me the apostle, and we will ensure this world falls beneath your boot."

Luke studied the demon lords, that same twitch to his tail. Calculating, weighing. At last, he spoke.

"If that is the decision of this council, then I see no reason for its continued existence. Your strength, strategies, and opinions are no longer necessary."

Cold silence followed, dark and stifling. The demon lords stared in disbelief, slowly twisting into anger.

Aqueas reared up. "You dare defy--"

Luke vanished from his place, reappearing shortly past the water demon lord, his sword already returning to its sheath. Aqueas began to turn, to say something else, but his body spasmed. A black rift ran straight through his formless body. Curses wormed from the rend, seeping through until his waters were gray.

I gasped, covering my mouth from the suddenness of it. My companions tensed, readying for some sort of backlash, but the demons were stunned to react. Even the apostles stood there, staring with their mouths hanging open.

An eighth-level demon lord, a conqueror of entire worlds, died slowly in the silence, unable to struggle as black mana consumed him. With a guttural scream, he collapsed into a bubbling puddle on the stone. His soul dissolved into the curses, flowing through Luke’s aura, strengthening his soul. I hadn’t even seen him unleash it, but it now filled the basin, challenging Rash’alon’s dominance.

"What have you done?" Lord Bloodsteel asked, backing slowly away, his summoned swords jittery. "You would turn on the Council?"