The Forsaken Hero

We breached the wall just as the sun dipped toward the horizon, casting crimson rays of dying light through the mist. Snow dusted the frozen ground, and flurries drifted from the sky like shards of shattered glass. A few campfires flickered in the distance where the Fatesworn had established forward positions. Familiar auras beckoned to me as we arrived at the watchpost overlooking the horde.

It was nestled in a hollow between snow-flecked pine trees that had somehow survived the blast waves of battle. Just beyond the firelight, the slope steepened, plunging into the valley where the demons settled. So thick was the sea of infernal haze hanging over it that I couldn’t tell how deep it was, or how many souls stirred within.

The position was controlled by the Nightwatch, but it was Grand Captain Avrass himself who stood in command, flanked by two stern-faced elves and a towering human warrior. Beyond them stood a strange-looking curse demon, a jarring presence among the ranks. Unlike the shifting shadows of its kin, this curse demon possessed actual, tangible flesh as dark as midnight, which seemed to absorb the dim light around it. It wore the distinct, weather-worn cloak of the rangers, pulled low over its horns, and carried a pair of long, curved daggers strapped securely to a heavy leather belt at its waist.

"Greetings, my Lady," Avrass said, saluting sharply.

"You don’t look surprised to see me," I said.

He shrugged, nodding toward the dark swarm massing down in the valley. "With all the growling over there, figured it was a matter of time before you showed. It’s good to see the Apostle on his feet."

"Luke," Luke said quietly, alighting on the ground. His feet left imprints in the gathering snow, which made me realize the rangers did not, just like Jasrin.

"Er, right. Luke..." Avrass glanced at me, but I only shrugged. He’d never minded the title before.

More figures approached along the valley’s rim, their auras signaling their arrival. Korra was the first to land, her boots barely touching the dirt before she lunged forward. Seeing me, she swept me clean off Fable’s back and pulled me into a fierce embrace. I squirmed against her, a hundred sharp aches flaring to life across my body.

"You’re alive!" she cried, spinning me in a dizzying circle before finally, daintily setting me back on my feet.

"Gentle," I breathed, the word barely a whisper. My fingers tangled into the fabric of her tunic, gripping it tightly as my knees threatened to buckle.

She caught on instantly, slipping a supportive arm around my waist and pulling me flush against her side to keep me upright.

"Why wouldn’t I be alive?" I asked when I’d caught my breath,

"Well..." She scratched her cheek, a sheepish smile breaking through her worry. "When Fyren showed up a few hours ago, he was in an awful mood. I tried to ask what happened, but he actually growled at me. Just like a real demon!"

Fyren crossed his arms, his brow furrowing into a deep scowl. "I am a real demon."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Not looking like that, you aren’t."

"A wolf in sheep’s clothing," said Gayron, landing beside her. He was followed quickly by Grace, R’lissea, and, to my surprise, Evla.

As I embraced R’lissea, who took advantage of my hug to steal me from Korra, Evla ran to Luke, throwing her arms around him. Her tail wagged like Fable’s, and she buried her face in his cloak. Luke’s tail went rigid as he looked down at her, his hands slowly settling around her shoulders. She must have said something, because his face softened, and he gently patted her back.

Evla pulled away just as quickly, frantically wiping a tear from her eye. Her face flushed a brilliant crimson, and she glared at the rest of us as if trying to hide her embarrassment behind an angry pout. "T-The snow melted!"

I pressed my face into the soft fabric of R’lissea’s cloak, burying a smile against her side as I leaned into her steady warmth.

"Where are the others?" Luke asked, looking around.

"Jessia’s skulking who knows where, while Edrin, Constance, and Kislee are down there just... hopelessly bickering with the demon lords. But those stubborn bastards won’t accept anyone else to take your place. If you didn’t come now, everything would have..." Evla looked away, rubbing her arm.

"What of Morvan?" Luke asked.

She recoiled, a sharp shiver racking her tail. "M-Morvan? Luke, no... he’s dead. He died almost a year ago." Her hands clenched. "They killed him, Luke. The Sun Hero did."

"Oh." Luke frowned, pressing a hand to his horn as if a dull ache had settled behind it. "I see. Thank you for reminding me."

"Luke, what happened?" She took a half-step toward him, then whirled on me, her hands balled into tight fists. "You were supposed to heal him! What did you do to him?"

"Peace, Evla. It isn’t her fault—it’s mine," Luke said, gently placing a hand on her trembling shoulder.

She turned to him, staring up into his eyes, her tail lashing out in agitation. "How can you say that?"

"If I have lost anything, it wasn’t taken from me by force. It was a price I had to pay," Luke replied softly. "And it is because of Xiviyah that I even have a chance to ensure that loss wasn’t in vain."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but a sudden pressure wave struck the mountain, kicking the snow up into a fog. I winced, drawing my cloak about me as the wind followed, ripping through the camp.

"That was Constance," Luke said, looking down into the sea of infernal mana. "We’ve lingered too long already. I hope I can count on all your support."

"You mean to fight them?" Korra asked.

"I will do what I must."

Korra exchanged looks with Grace. A smile lit her face. "Then count us in. These bastards have had their way in Enusia for too long. Their arrogance is gross."

"You’re one to speak," I mumbled, shaking my head. At least the demons had a reason to fight, even if that reason was me.

"Xiviyah, what do you want to do?" Luke asked, turning to face me.

The question caught me off guard. He waited, watching me, as if the answer truly belonged to me.

"I want to go," I whispered, lowering my head.

"Then please, remain with your guard."

The Star Guard nodded firmly. "Yes, please," Luxxa muttered.

The hordes stirred at our approach, tempted by the strength of more than a half-dozen eighth-level souls. They were those who bore Luke’s mark, and yet they felt strangely hostile. Loosened in the discipline he had always kept them with. They snapped and snarled, recoiling only when directly forced back by one of my companions’ auras.

Both Luke and Evla had lost their hordes, and yet, many millions of demons surrounded us for miles, their glowing eyes a sea of malice in the gloom. The infernal mana was as thick here as the demon gate Incinderus came from, and even more sickening, choking the air with the stench of sulfur and ash.

It was almost too much. I was still so cold, and so tired.

We felt the confluence before we saw it. A shallow basin, surrounded by countless evolved demons, many so tall their colossal forms were lost in the mists. The air literally crackled with tension. Black and red lightning arced across the ground wherever infernal mana gathered too thickly.

R’lissea landed behind me, reaching around to ease me back against her. I took a deep breath, letting her soothing aura flow over me. Warm and sweet, just enough divine mana to stave off the infernal. But it was still foreign mana, still not fate.

"You don’t look well," she said softly. "You weren’t this sensitive to it before. Or this powerful. I felt your presence from nearly a mile away when you arrived. I don’t think it’s safe for you to stay here much longer."

"I want to be here for Luke."

"I know. Just be careful, okay?"

Fyren communicated a burst of soulspeak, and we slowed, letting Luke and Evla proceed ahead. The demons parted, revealing a loose circle in their hordes. The other apostles paced back and forth, arguing amongst themselves, and on the other side were the demon lords. Five of them. Despite everything I’d seen in my visions, Hag was not here.

But there he was: the curse demon I’d seen back when my visions only offered glimpses of Rash’alon’s forces. The tattered, spectral threads of his cloak flickered like dying embers in the wind, but it was his eyes—piercing, crimson slits—that locked onto us the moment we arrived. When they focused entirely on me, narrowing with cold recognition, a sudden, suffocating chill spiked down my spine. Panic flared, and I tightened my grip on R’lissea’s arms, pulling her flush against me as much to ensure she wouldn’t accidentally let go as to anchor myself against the dread rooting me to the spot.

"Luke!" Constance sounded relieved as he clapped Luke on the shoulder. "You actually made it!"

Luke nodded wordlessly and continued past him until he stood in the center of the Council. The demon lords gathered, finding their places.

"So, you still live," a shifting, water demon hissed. "Not many fight a god and live to tell the tale."

"That one has fallen," Fyren said, crossing his arms. "She bears the curse demon’s mark."

"A demon lord? Accepting an actual mark?" Gayron asked.

"Hardly a risk compared to the Fatesworn demon lords," Korra remarked dryly.

Luke met each of their gazes in turn before simply saying, "Speak your grievances."