The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 427: Fulfilling a Vow

Chapter 427: Fulfilling a Vow

Gayron snorted at my question, though he managed, with visible effort, to keep the disdain from his voice. "What kind of question is that? You have all this power and come out with an ’excuse me?’ I’d heard heroes were pathetic, but you...?"

"I-I’m sorry," I said, quickly ducking my head and gripping my skirt tightly.

The horror of what I had almost done to the Apostle of Fire still weighed heavily upon me, leaving me feeling raw and vulnerable. I knew I should have more confidence, but the truth was, I just wanted to hide behind someone. I glanced at Fable, hopeful, but he was conveniently staring in another direction. Looks like I had to face this provocative demonkin alone.

Well, maybe not alone. Korra leveled a glare at Gayron. "You’re right about that, actually, but not in the way you think. Anyone too blind to see Xiviyah for who she is and judge for who they think she should be is pathetic. That makes you just like them. By your own words: pathetic."

Gayron’s eyes smoldered, and his entire body tensed, but to my surprise, he didn’t immediately retaliate. Korra grinned smugly, folding her arms and shaking her head. "You demons are so transparent sometimes," she muttered. "Also, call her Xiviyah, not Oracle."

They were? I glanced at her in disbelief but held my tongue. I’d already embarrassed myself enough, and the last thing I wanted was to provoke another outburst.

Gayron groaned, rubbing his horn in frustration. "Fine, Xiviyah," he said, emphasizing my name with a hint of annoyance. "Because you asked so politely. You haven’t healed my soul yet. I’m not leaving before you make good on your promise. Or do you intend to renege on your word?"

My eyes widened slightly. He’d seemed so stubborn and angry, so resistant to reason. Could he have actually been listening to me in the gate?

"Is that all?" I asked. "Then you’ll leave?"

"So eager to get rid of me?" he retorted, his tone sharp. "Trust me, I hate this more than you do."

Korra rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up. You haven’t exactly been sulking around this past week, you know. You’d better be careful, or one might start to think you enjoy spending time in a normal, mortal army."

Gayron narrowed his eyes, but before he could protest, Jena giggled and sidled up to him.

"I’ve seen how you look at the mess hall," she purred, her lips curling into a provocative smile. "And at me."

To my astonishment, he blushed slightly. The apostle of fire was actually blushing. I stared at him in shock as he turned his head away, his tail twitching, and muttered in defeat, "I wasn’t."

She laughed again and took his arm in both her hands, pulling close until her breasts pressed against his bicep. She whispered something in his ear, and his face flushed darker. Then she was gone, returning to her post beside the other Star Guards. Luxxa shook her head with a disapproving frown but chose to hold her tongue.

I coughed, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. "Um, Gayron, if you’d like, I could heal your soul now."

His blush vanished as his eyes lit up. "You can? Really? Er, I mean, fine. Whatever."

"Should we leave you in peace so you can concentrate?" Korra asked.

I shook my head. "No, it’s fine. There’s something about this place...I feel stronger, more in control."

"That’s only natural," the spirit said, "This is your realm, after all."

"So, do we need to hold hands or what?" Gayron asked.

I shivered. "No, it’s okay. Just stay over there, please."

"Fine, but stop acting like I’m going to hurt you. You promised to heal my soul, after all."

"I wish I could believe you," I said wistfully, a shudder running down my spine and tail. Hadn’t Levin said the same thing? If a hero could betray me, why would a demonkin do any differently? He’d already tried to kill me several times before, and even though we were enemies at the time, he killed Orion. I wasn’t so naive to believe he changed after a single week. I didn’t have that luxury anymore.

Korra frowned, her lips drawing into a tight line. "Xiviyah..."

Taking a deep breath, I extended my hand and summoned my staff again. I closed my eyes as the raw power of the gate surged into me, the surrounding stars resonating in harmony with my soul. I inhaled deeply, allowing the energy to wash through me, familiarizing myself with its flow before abruptly taking control. When I opened my eyes again, they shone with the radiant power of the Oracle of Eternity.

The ripples of starlight around my feet grew wider, sweeping out in a wave of watery light. Instead of our own reflections, they filled with images of memories and visions, past and future. I saw a younger Korra sitting around a table with eight other heroes, a shadow over her face. She’d been like that before we met and shared her burden with me.

It wasn’t just her life that unfolded before me, either, but the lives of the entire Star Guard, even Gayron’s. The glimmering scenes were mesmerizing, conveying not only visual details but emotions as well. I shook my head, realizing I was getting lost in the mesmerizing display, losing sight of why I had activated my ability in the first place.

"What is this?" Gayron stumbled back from the ripples, his gaze transfixed on an image that appeared to be him as a child, shackled in chains, blood streaking down the side of his face. He stepped over a puddle that reflected a scene from my life, freezing as he caught sight of me as a young girl lying in a dark alley, barely clothed and covered in bruises. A man had his back to me, his movements obscured by shadow, but what had transpired was clear.

The memory was more of an echo than anything else. I had almost no distinct memories of my life before becoming a demonkin. It was one endless blur of darkness, pain, and profound loneliness. But it touched me deeply, bringing tears to my eyes.

"Enough," I said softly, "Gayron, this might hurt a little."

He jerked his gaze away, his eyes widening in alarm. "Hurt? But you’re supposed to heal me, not–"

I reached out with several tendrils of mana, gently but firmly burrowing into his soul. He groaned and dropped to his knees, his tail lashing in either pain or discomfort—it was difficult to tell.

The Apostle of Fire’s soul was just as I remembered. It was plain and straightforward compared to my own, though still leagues above any non-heroic mortal. His abilities were curled up at its core, marred by long, tangled snarls of corruption. It was apparent what was wrong and how much it must have hurt. Just a week ago, my entire soul looked like this. He should count himself lucky I hadn’t known what I was doing then, and he was only hurt this much.

Here, in the nature of the damage, I found the first divergence from my previous experiences. Unlike Levin, the damage wasn’t infernal, more akin to scar tissue, though that analogy didn’t quite capture the intangible nature of the soul. My soul had shattered because of the immense strain of bearing the weight of an eight-circle spell while only capable of handling a seventh.

Gayron, on the other hand, had his soul deliberately torn apart. It wasn’t just his soul that was damaged, but the very fabric of his abilities and essence. In my desperation, I had attacked the very stars of fate that wove him together, like destroying runes in a magic circle. There were entire chunks missing, making simply stitching him up impossible.

But I had experience fabricating souls now, having essentially done so with my own. I was fortunate to have Fable as a template, but with Gayron, I was navigating uncharted territory. The advantage was that most of his soul was intact, so I was more filling in the gaps rather than weaving it from scratch.

Even so, it was slow, meticulous work, where a single misstep meant starting over. I empathized with that pain, having endured it countless times during my own healing process. But I hadn’t realized just how grating the sound of screaming could be. Did the inquisitors truly never tire of this?

It wasn’t until Korra placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder that I realized I had finished. Gayron was curled up on the ground, his tail trembling in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. It was a strange sight, seeing a man capable of such cruelty reduced to such vulnerability, but I couldn’t bring myself to judge him. How often had I been in a similar position, after all? Just about every single fight, if memory served.

Korra had no such qualms. "Damn," she said, her voice laced with disbelief, "either that hurts like hell, or you’re weaker than you look. Get up, it’s done already."

Gayron scrubbed his eyes, his voice thick with emotion. "It is?" he asked, sounding surprised. "It burns, still. But I think it’s getting better."

I shook my head, absently rubbing a horn. "It must be nice."

He glared at me. "It’s not."

"No, I meant being able to bear it," I clarified. "The curse leaves me weak and vulnerable. But your body is so strong. I barely managed to stand after I healed my own soul, and that was with Fable’s help. You seem like you’re already well enough to fight."

Gayron hesitated, his gaze dropping to his hands. His fingers opened and closed, eventually clenching into fists. His tail stirred back and forth, this time not from any sort of lingering pain. "Xiviyah," he said my name slowly, speaking it for the first time. "I’m...I’m sorry."

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