The Forsaken Hero-Chapter 1033: Return to Shadows

The Spatial Rift wavered as Elise stepped through. One moment, she was in the Duskwood Forest, the next, her boots clicked on sunken cobblestone. Soldiers poured in after her, led by Commander Joel and the few veterans who had homes and families to return to.

As they vanished by their tens, hundreds, and then thousands, I stared numbly at the rift. It didn’t feel real. It was like looking at a painting. I just couldn’t bring myself to believe I was really looking at Brithlite. That it could possibly be just a few steps away.

But the cost was very real. My mana emptied at extraordinary speed, matching the strain of sustaining the Oracle of Eternity at its peak. In only twenty minutes, I was streaked with sweat, leaning on Korra as I struggled to catch my breath. And still the soldiers marched, and supplies wagons rolled, vanishing into the breach.

"You’re not looking great," Korra said, looking at me worriedly as we neared a half hour. "Can you hold up? The Company’s nearly gone."

I nodded weakly, all but surrendering myself to her strength. Not only was my soul quenched, but the Aetherial Prism had dimmed, its light a mere flickering candle. All the mana I’d poured into it, all the mana I’d stolen from the battle against Connor and his Risen, vanished, poured into the Spatial Rift like water escaping a broken pitcher.

At last, the final soldiers pressed through the rift. The window cleared, revealing a small guard kept behind to secure the rift until passage was complete. I barely saw their salute, cutting the flow of mana with a strangled gasp, clutching my chest. The Lantern was dark at my side, drained entirely, and a searing burning sensation pulsed in my soul, hottest around the edges. I could feel every thread of the Soul Binder aflame within me.

"Damn it," Korra cursed, sweeping me up in her arms. "You burned your soul! Idiot!"

"Sorry," I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut. "I...I had to. It was...just a little."

"Too much. You could have waited a week and sent the rest!"

Still cursing, she leaped onto Fable’s back. The wolf took off, and I tasted blood; the sudden acceleration was too much for my weakened constitution. Worse than my churning insides was my head. It throbbed with every jolt of his paws, jolt of his paws against the ground. Tears seeped from the corner of my eyelashes, vanishing into the rushing air the moment they left my warded cheeks. But, I didn’t weep for the pain.

"She’s gone," I whispered.

I didn’t have to live with the fire in my soul or the anguish in my heart for long, as I quickly lost consciousness.

There was no peace for me there. As soon as the pain faded, the darkness vanished in a flash of light, and I was flying over Brithlite. The sun was low over the horizon, draping the ruined city in shadows. Roving teams of soldiers scoured through the streets, their polished armor and weapons glinting in the dying light. Ragged groups of men wielding rusted blades and donning patchwork armor scattered and charged against them, and were hewn down with cold, ruthless efficiency. Those who tried to flee were hunted to the last, arrows and spells reaping their screams.

It was terrible. It was war.

Unable to stomach the sight, I fled the vision, only to appear in another city at midday, one I didn’t recognize. But the same scene played out. Soldiers of the Last Light Company slaughtering bandits and ruffians. But this time, there was more. In the wake of the bloodshed, they sheathed their blades, lifting emaciated beggars out of gutters and carrying battered children out of alleys. Wagons rolled throughout the street, carrying more grain than had been seen in one place since the kingdom fell to the demons.

City after city, week after week, the same scenes played out. One by one, they fell to Elise. Conquered by sword and kindness. Welcomed into the fold under the Banner of the Last Light Company.

Then, the visions shifted, solidifying from fragments of the future into a clear, crisp scene. There was a war camp, sprawling around as far as the eye could see. It had nothing of the discipline of the Last Light Company, with its orderly rows of tents and cookfires, but was a sprawling mess of patchwork canvas and lounging soldiers. Soldiers who, to me, seemed more like ruffians or refugees than soldiers.

And, as if in answer to my unspoken need, I saw Luke. My heart leaped at the sight of him, but as I made to run to him, I faltered. There was no warmth on his face. His violet eyes, always so gentle and kind, were cold with ire, his aura visible as agitated spikes of black mana.

Jessia strolled beside him, humming a tune to herself. She was calm and carefree, maybe even a little amused, if the smile tugging at her lips meant anything.

My tail dragged as I followed them from a distance, a pit forming in my stomach. They wore the same clothing as in my last vision.

"Here?" Luke growled, not bothering to look at Jessia.

"Something like that. He’s got a big ol’ sword. Bigger than yours," Jessai said with a provocative smirk.

Luke slowed, looking around. He was in a small clearing in the tents, with anxious beastkin and demonkin peering out at him, too afraid to flee. One demonkin, in particular, caught my eye. His soul was...strange. Deep currents of unfamiliar mana coursed within. Not an ability, exactly, but...a spell? And enchantment of some kind? I didn’t recognize it, save that the mana was infernal, and it was a curse.

Luke sensed it immediately, stalking over to him. The demonkin was short and skinny, with knobby horns and a ratty tail. His cloak was black, but faded gray, and covered in patches. He had a massive, if very tarnished, sword on his back, but his hand went to his waist, fumbling at the hilt of an unsheathed knife shoved through his belt.

Luke didn’t give him the chance. He blurred, his hand shooting forward and grabbing the demonkin’s throat. The man’s scream cut off abruptly, his eyes rolling in terror as Luke lifted him from the ground, his aura thickening, blackening, seeming to swallow the sunlight before it could reach them.

"M-my Lord!" he gasped, pawing at the hand around his neck.

"Don’t patronize me. I know you think of me as no Lord," Luke spat. "You know him. Rash’alon."

The demonkin’s eyes widened slightly, his face draining of color. "I-I never heard that name! Never!"

"Is that right?" a sweet, feminine voice asked from behind Luke’s shoulder.

I turned with them, gasping as a beautiful catkin girl in a revealing dress approached, her hips swaying seductively. Even terrified as the cowering army was, their eyes were drawn to her, coloring with lust.

It took me a second to realize she’d come from where Jessia was standing, and that Jessia was now gone. Even so, I struggled to believe it was her. The illusion was perfect, somehow disguising the very weave of magic from my eyes. Even her soul, reduced to a second level, was completely stable and believable.

I shivered, horrified, as did the demonkin, though likely for an entirely different reason.

"You," He breathed, "But you’re...you betrayed us? You swore the oaths!"

"Mmm, yes, I suppose I did." Jessia licked her lips, her tail twitching in a manner I might have found endearing if it were anyone else. But her smile was predatory, showing her pointed canines. "They were rather boring, honestly. Too generic. Was all that stuff about vengeance and hellfire really necessary? Oh, and I told him everything. No point hiding that you’re working with the curse demon lord. He already knows."

His face crumpled, the spark of defiance draining from his eyes. But his fear remained, sharpening as Luke’s grip tightened, his fingers biting into his throat.

Jessia sidled closer, circling them slowly. "You know, I think I forgot to mention something."

"And that is?" Luke growled.

"This is the one who was spying on you and the little Oracle. He’s the one who told the demon lord when you were distracted. That’s how he stole your precious shard!"

She spun back with a giggle, narrowly avoiding the sudden surge of Luke’s power. As everyone else focused on him, gripped by his aura, she vanished in a puff of shadows, leaving Luke alone amidst the army. Or perhaps, leaving the army alone with Luke.

"So it was you?" Luke asked, his eyes narrowing.

The man choked, scrabbling at the apostle’s fingers, but he might as well have been trying to scratch away steel. Luke’s grip tightened, and the man went limp, his eyes bulging in fear.

"Luke..." I whispered, clutching my hands to my chest, my tail twitching anxiously. The look on his face... I recognized it. It was frightening. The kind of look Luke had in my memories when he slaughtered the house of his master. The day he awakened his powers and swore vengeance against the gods. I knew it only from when our minds entangled, but I couldn’t forget it. It was so real, visceral, and...scary.

The demonkin coughed as Luke’s grip slackened, allowing him to gulp a breath of air. "H-He promised! If we did it, he would bring death to the church! Death to the–"

A sickening snap. The demonkin went limp, his head lolling to the side, eyes forever frozen open. Luke dropped him, but his aura didn’t calm. As he looked around, the pressure increased, his mana rising. The shadows grew more bold, no longer hiding from the torch and firelight. They curled around the camp, sending a chill down my spine. Any more, and it would be too much. I reached out to him, desperate.

But even as my hand passed through him, his soul snapped, releasing a tide of mana. It scoured the camp like a desert wind, swelling to a deafening crescendo.

"You’re all traitors. You’re all unnecessary," Luke whispered. "You’re all in the way."

He closed his fist, and his power detonated. A tremendous force struck my soul form, and I was driven from the vision. As I landed in my soul space, I collapsed to my knees, tears trickling down my cheeks.

"Luke..." I whispered again, pleadingly.

Why did he have to change every time I saw him? What happened to the cool, easy-going man I’d spent many a long evening with? Why was he so cold, and angry, and...sad?

Couldn’t he come back to me?

I yearned so badly to embrace him, to take away whatever pain it was that drove him so. To remind him there was warmth, there was light, there was...me.