The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 459: To Stand on my Own

Chapter 459: To Stand on my Own

An eerie silence descended upon the cathedral, all eyes fixated on the lifeless husk that was once Lord Coufyx. His demise had been so swift, so unexpected, that none of the cultists had time to react. The complete annihilation of his soul had taken less than a single heartbeat.

Before they could recover from their shock, I struggled to one knee, reaching out desperately for Fable. Every nerve in my body screamed in agony, and the darkness at the edge of my vision threatened to consume me. Tears blurred my sight, but it was more than just that, something far worse. Perhaps it was the searing heat that scorched my eyes, or the overwhelming exhaustion and pain, but I couldn’t see clearly. It wasn’t until I felt Fable’s fur envelop me, his presence a tangible comfort, that I knew he was there.

I’d never felt so alone before as in that moment, surrounded by the flames and agony of the sunpurge, with the impending curse of the Soul Crest descending upon me. And now, as I wrapped my arms around his neck, I began to weep. For myself, for the pain, and for the two children whose death I had caused. For all the death and destruction I had caused here in this city.

"Grab her! Even if Lord Coufyx’s dead, we can’t afford to fail! She can’t possibly do that again," one of the surviving cultists shouted.

Fable shifted, and even though I clung to him with all my might, he gently slipped out of my arms. I collapsed without his support, falling to my knees, tears streaming down my cheeks.

"Please, don’t leave me," I sobbed, reaching for him in vain.

A sudden oppressive weight descended upon the cathedral, freezing the cultists in place, their faces draining of color. Fable’s form exploded with mana, swelling rapidly until he dominated the chamber. His silver fur hardened into shimmering armor, his claws and horns elongated into vicious weapons, and his eyes burned with a rage that could consume the world.

The cathedral shuddered as he threw back his head and unleashed a bone-chilling howl. The dreadful sound reverberated through the space, drowning out my own thoughts. It was a lonely, mournful sound, echoing the darkness that had taken root in my heart. I shivered, hugging myself tightly, the tears flowing freely.

Dozens of spells hurtled toward us, filling the air with a chaotic display of fire, ice, and light. I stared at the onslaught blankly, numbed by the cold grip of despair. My soul was weakened, and perhaps Adaptive Resistance with it, but none of that seemed to matter anymore. I couldn’t feel anything but the pain and the encroaching darkness.

Suddenly, my vision was filled with silver as Fable flashed in front of me, his fur absorbing the brunt of the spells. The ensuing explosions were blinding, and the shockwaves that managed to slip past him whipped at my hair and the tattered remnants of my dress.

The two sixth-level cultists lunged forward, attempting to flank Fable and reach me, but before they’d taken two steps, the massive wolf vanished. I felt a brief tug in my soul as he tapped into the Oracle of Eternity, but was too weak to slip into that realm myself.

One moment, he was there; the next, he was behind the two cultists. Their mouths opened in shocked gasps, but instead of sound, blood gurgled between their lips. Their mana flickered and died as they crumpled to their knees, the life fading from their eyes. Their torsos had been shredded, seemingly cleaved by one of Fable’s massive claws.

Fable roared again before vanishing again, reappearing on the highest level of the open-air cathedral. Strong currents of mana followed in his wake, tearing through the ranks of the cultists and reducing their fourth and fifth-level bodies to bloody pulp. An attack from a seventh-level being wasn’t something they could hope to survive.

The upper level, as strong as it was, cracked and collapsed beneath his weight. Rubble rained down, burying the lower levels and any cultists unfortunate enough to be below. The rubble smashing into the Shard of Omniscience reverberated like a cracked bell, releasing miniature pulses of disturbed mana that jarred my injured soul.

Before the collapse could reach me, Fable reappeared above me, his massive form shielding me from the falling masonry. Dust filled the air, choking me into a weak cough. A thin line of blood trickled between my lips, but I was too exhausted even to wipe it away. What was a little more blood at this point?

Amidst the storm of falling debris, Fable lashed out several more times, clearing the remaining levels of survivors. By the time the dust settled, he and I were the only living beings in the cathedral. Dozens of powerful cultists died in an instant.

After coughing up a little more blood, I took a long, shuddering breath. My chest screamed in protest, sending spikes of agony through my body, but it helped to clear the fog that clung to my mind. With the added clarity, I managed to summon my staff and, leaning heavily upon it, rose unsteadily to my feet.

"Regenerate," I whispered, forcing myself to cast the fifth-circle spell. Forming the runes was excruciating, nearly impossible with my dwindling concentration, but eventually, I completed the spell.

I closed my eyes as the soft, green glow of Life Magic enveloped me, washing away the waves of pain. The worst of my injuries were the burns, and every breath became easier as the blackened, cracked skin melted away, replaced by healthy flesh. After a few agonizingly long seconds, I opened my eyes, relieved to find my vision restored.

Fable had returned to his condensed form, but his eyes still burned with pent-up rage, his tail lashing back and forth restlessly. He was at my side in an instant, pressing against and supporting me as I hobbled toward the shard. It was covered in dust and debris, but even with half the building collapsed on top of it, the Shard remained unharmed. It took more than a few rocks to damage a gift from the gods.

It took me a while to make my way across the ruined chamber, but finally, I reached the crystal focal point of the city-wide Heart Crest and rested my hand against its cool surface. The mana twisting beneath its glimmering facets was thick and vile, curdling my stomach. Still, before destroying it, I took a moment to study the magic within, memorizing the differences and advances they’d made since the last one.

"Dispel Magic," I whispered, channeling the last of my strength into the spell that had saved me before.

With a sharp crack, the crystal shattered, its fragments scattering across the floor. The chains fell away from the Shard, clattering to the ground with a deafening finality. Instantly, the countless tendrils of darkness that had ensnared the city evaporated, freeing the souls of civilians and soldiers alike.

I sagged to my knees, my strength spent, letting out a heavy, ragged breath. The injuries I’d suffered were more profound than anything I’d felt before, perhaps even worse than when the High Inquisitor had buried his axe in my side. My heart still hammered in my chest, fear clutching at me with every creak and groan of the destabilized structure around us.

As the dust and ashes began to settle, I started to shake uncontrollably, the reality of my near-death experience and the threat of enslavement sinking in. I’d been so close to losing everything and dragged back into the darkness I’d fought so desperately to escape. The searing flames of the trap flickered in my mind, overlapping with the faces of those who had tormented me. Alverin, Lord Byron, Soltair, and even Alex’s face flashed through my memories.

The latter felt strange and unexpected, but given what he’d tried to do to me, and his connection with fire, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. I could only accept the pain those memories brought, hugging my knees to my chest, my tail wrapping curling around my feet protectively.

Fable brushed against me, careful not to disturb the sunpurge, which still throbbed fiercely. The scars had spread further than I dared to acknowledge, and I couldn’t bring myself even to assess the damage. But from the hot, stinging sensations radiating across my thigh, back, and stomach, I knew it was bad. Very bad.

The wolf whined softly, nudging me gently with his nose, trying to burrow under my guard and coax me into his embrace. He was right there, offering the promise of warmth, protection, and peace. But I hesitated, fighting the urge to hide in his fur, to let the tears flow again and sob until Korra found and held me close.

I had been so close to being lost again, and just the thought of surrendering to another’s touch made me shiver. My hands clenched, fingernails digging into my palms, as I squeezed my eyes shut. If I gave in to the pain and sorrow, where would that leave me? The gods had proven they had no intention of granting me peace or abandoning their insane plan to enslave the world.

The realization struck me with the clarity of a clarion call, cutting through the shadows in my heart. I didn’t have to cry and wait for someone else to comfort me. Korra would, and she’d do it gladly, but hadn’t she helped me enough already? She’d taught me how to find strength; perhaps it was time I learned to stand on my own.

Slowly, I reached out to Fable with a trembling hand, grasping his fur not for comfort, but for support. As I struggled to stand, his golden eyes swam with worry, and I inhaled sharply as a spike of pain shot through my side. But even as tears welled up in my eyes, I bit my lip and swallowed a whimper, forcing my muscles to move.

I can do this. I have to do this. I will stand and walk out of this church on my own.

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