The Forsaken Hero

My determination steeled against the cold as Fate faded. There was so much to learn, and so much to do, and so little time to accomplish it all. I wished she might have given me some direction, like how I would actually be helping Luke, so that I could practice that. But I was used to that. One step at a time, and the next would become clear.

Manipulating fate was a lot like using mana. Or maybe it was the other way around. I didn’t know. And I didn’t really care, as I was soon lost in experimentation. Enusia’s magic was bound by runes. There were thousands of runes, and with them, you could do almost anything you wanted. But at the end of the day, if there wasn’t a rune for something, then it couldn’t be done.

That wasn’t the case here. I called fate to me, and ordered it like mana, forming it into runes. The spell completed exactly like it should have, forming a small sphere of water hovering over my hand. Water Ball. The first spell I’d ever cast.

But that was using too many steps. I let fate return to its primal form, and then began again. Only this time, I skipped the runes and directly applied the forces the runes normally enacted on mana by my own will. After a few minutes and dozens of failures, the same spell appeared.

I tried again, and again, ’casting’ every spell I knew. None of them took mana. They used only my will, my control over fate, to cast. It was easier to use runes to form them, since they were so familiar, but after seeing how fate reacted to the runes, I was able to abandon them altogether. They gave me a guideline, an understanding of what was possible, and a way to accomplish it. The rune for ’heat,’ for instance, pushed fate to behave in the same way every time, just like it did mana in Enusia.

Or maybe that was just because of my expectations. A rule I’d imposed on myself.

But that was okay, for now. Maybe Fate, with her infinite experience and perspective, could manipulate reality in any way she chose, but I just needed to do it once. Even if patterning fate after runes was heavily limiting, it still worked, and that was good enough for me.

After several thousand attempts, I felt comfortable enough to move on from spells I knew, and apply the mechanics to other things. I knew how to conjure elements, form them into shapes and elementals. What was fascinating was that the size of my creations didn’t really matter. Fate expanded, shrank, twisted, and became what I wanted it to. The only limiting factor was how many elements and details I added. A giant water elemental required far less willpower to maintain than the tiny wolf because it was less complex.

My first attempt at true creation came in the form of a flower. I took inspiration from beautiful Nivalea, attempting to replicate its delicate blossoms and pure white color. The result was a misshapen, limp vine with what one might assume a scrap of pale satin wrapped around the top. I giggled at how ridiculous it looked, and promptly dismissed it.

Focusing, I started again. This time, the flower was more refined, with distinct petals and leaves. A long stem and the right color, though it lacked any scent or life. Still, it wasn’t just a wad of fabric.

From that point, my progress slowed. Creating more complex forms and patterns was not so easy, but it felt rewarding when I got it right. Even more than learning a new spell. This wasn’t something another had pioneered, and I merely learned. This was me.

An eternity later, or maybe it was only a few minutes, the chill began to settle more heavily on my soul. The visions of countless worlds, realms, and realities danced at the corners of my vision. I wasn’t tired. I had no desire to sleep, only an urge to curl up somewhere warm and shiver until I thawed.

But not yet. I still couldn’t do what I pleased. It took hours of effort, dozens of tries, to fashion the simplest thing correctly. I’d managed to do flowers, jewelry, even a small house, but nothing with a complex structure. Not even another wolf. I could make some fur, some blood, a statue of one, but not one that moved, and breathed, and worked.

I dedicated all my attention to replicating the little Fable we’d made before, but had no success. Fate had supplied most of the knowledge and experience, directly taking over my work several times. It seemed it wasn’t as simple as casting spells. You had to know everything about brains, nerves, and muscles. Things I didn’t. It wasn’t just about manipulating fate, like casting magic was about runes. This was only the tip of an iceberg that encapsulated a skill set defined by all of reality.

When my soul grew numb, and my thoughts were too sluggish to be called coherent, I finally gave up. I was just too weak, too tired, too cold. The misshapen remains of what might have been a wolf drained through my fingers. I lessened my hold on the Oracle of Eternity, rising through fate until the stars vanished, plunging me into the darkness of oblivion.

At last, I turned toward Haven, following its beckoning call until its warmth surrounded me. Opening my eyes, I stared up at Arantius, who held my body, keeping it from collapsing. His touch was hot against my skin, but I sighed, soaking in his warmth. My soul felt as if it were carved from solid ice. Every breath of Haven’s fresh air cleared my mind.

"Welcome back," Arantius said, setting me on my feet. I staggered immediately, catching myself on his arm again. Nothing felt right. My entire body felt thick and heavy, chained to me with iron shackles. My mana was even worse, revolting at the weight of Haven’s ambient mana. I focused on Luke, gritting my teeth as the bonds of mortality returned.

Once I could breath again, I stared at the entrance to the chapel, but it didn’t get any closer.

"I believe you’ll have to walk. Inconvenient, isn’t it?" Arantius asked.

I flushed red and took a tentative step, albeit with his help. Finally, the world was moving as it should.

"Just how long were you in there?" he asked, following me as I stumbled across the room.

"I-I don’t know," I croaked, pressing a hand to my horn. A dull ache throbbed behind my eyes. Had I really pushed myself that far? Gods, having a body sucked.

Slowly, the feelings of awkwardness faded, and things began to feel right. I ached all over, but at least it felt like my pain, not someone else’s. My feet gained confidence, and I released the remnant. I rubbed my horn again. It hadn’t been this bad after the Blacksand visions, when the visions had flowed for months. Just how long had I been gone?

"Haven?" My voice was a little stronger this time.

The cathedral blurred as the spirit whisked me away. Tired as I was, the process was even more clear to me this time. Fate folded neatly, recalculating my position. Instead of the cathedral, I was actually standing before the gate. And always had been, as far as the realm was concerned.

I felt the primal urge to do it again, to study and replicate it. But Luke stayed in the forefront of my mind. I stepped forward, vanishing through the gate.

Whatever strength I had was torn from me as I lost Haven’s support. My feet hit the ground in Enusia, and I dropped to my knees, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come. Whatever weight Haven had leveraged against my soul was increased a hundredfold. Golden light hissed and boiled off me as the two forces collided, burning hot across my skin and soul. Black dots washed across my vision, threatening my consciousness.

"Xiviyah!" Fyren’s voice was short and urgent. Huge clawed hands lifted me into the air, and I came face to face with his infernal visage. "This presence, this aura...no, she didn’t. She couldn’t have."

"Luke," I groaned, gripping his wrists with both hands. My fingers barely made it halfway around. "Please..."

"No, you’re in no condition to see him. You’ve absorbed too much power. If you break through now, you won’t survive!"

My head lolled as he turned, letting me catch a glimpse of Luke. He lay on his back on a wooden pew, breathing shallowly. His flesh had turned a pale gray, almost entirely translucent, and his soul looked as cold as mine felt.

"Fyren, please. I need to help him. I need him!" I whimpered.

He grimaced, meeting my gaze for a second. "Oblivion take you, Fate," he growled, letting me squirm from his grip. It landed hard, no thanks to Fyren’s height, but he steadied and guided me to the bench. I collapsed next to Luke, lifting his head and cradling it in my lap. He was light as a shadow. There wasn’t much time.