The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 477: Promise

Chapter 477: Promise

"Did they all have to die?"

I’d had a thousand things I wanted to ask. That wasn’t one of them, but the question slipped out before I could stop it. The Lord of Ash’s eyes widened slightly, and I quickly looked away, my tail twitching nervously. Now was not the time to question this demon, not when so much rested on securing his help. How could I have allowed myself to speak so carelessly?

Instead of getting angry, the Lord of Ash chuckled, a deep, resonant growl like the crackling of a bonfire. "You’ve changed, little one," he rumbled, "but not so much that I can’t recognize you." His voice hardened. "And yes, they touched one they shouldn’t have. It’s only natural their entire kingdom shall burn."

I let out a small breath of relief, my shoulders slumping slightly. If he was willing to discuss it, I had one more question to venture. "But why all of them? Couldn’t you have spared the innocent in the city?"

"Spared?" his tail twitched in confusion, brushing over the pile of ashes that had once been the king. "Spare them for what? I have brought them peace and allowed their souls to travel to a world far from this conflict. Death is not a great injustice, but the only justice. I have freed them before they were even enslaved."

My tail twitched in surprise. Did he know about the gods’ plans for this world? But even so, how could he just—

"Besides," he interrupted my thoughts, his claws curling into fists, flames erupting between his fingers. "They dared hurt that which was precious to me, one who I vowed to protect. Any who so blatantly mock my cause shall suffer the fires of hell."

There was something familiar about the way he spoke. It wasn’t his voice, as all demons shared that same deep, resonant quality, but something subtle, something I couldn’t quite grasp. His cadence, tone, and a certain tendency to lecture all teased at the edges of my memory, stirring half-buried thoughts I’d long since forgotten.

I’d never met this demon before, so why did he sound so...fond of me? Why waste time sharing his philosophies of death with an insignificant demonkin he could crush with a single hand? Why did he care that his actions hurt me, and thus try to justify them?

The questions grew louder, even as my body grew fainter, the disturbance in haven threatening to tear me away. But the more I thought about it, the faster my tail twitched with unease. I found myself staring up at the towering demon, scrutinizing him as closely as he did me.

The Lord of Ash hadn’t changed much in the time since I’d last seen him in the vision, or even in the years since he’d first appeared in my dreams. He was immense, perhaps twenty or twenty-five feet tall, with broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms. Like other fire demons, he had a faintly draconic appearance, with ridged plates of armor and wickedly curved claws. His scales were a dark ashen color, seemingly lit from within by a fiery red glow, cracked like cooling lava. Horns jutted from his scaled head, and his mouth was filled with rows of sharp, pointed teeth.

He lacked the deadly grace that Kahlen possessed; instead, he exuded raw, overwhelming power. It wasn’t just his aura, though that alone was in the middle stages of the eighth level, pressing on my soul with the weight of a mountain. It was the way he stood and carried himself—his very being radiated an unshakeable confidence and strength. I felt small and insignificant before him, like an ant facing a giant.

But the way he looked at me was anything but that of a predator. It was tender, almost reverent, as though he was basking in my presence.

Another jolt shook my soul, and the vision flickered again. A dark presence seemed to seep into my mind, coming from outside the vision. I was detached enough to hear Fable’s low growl echoing below, and the vision shuddered once more.

I groaned and rubbed my horn, trying to suppress the bewilderment that threatened to overwhelm me. I opened my mouth, hesitant, then closed it again, unsure how to begin. It wasn’t as if I could simply ask him for help out of the blue. Surely, he would demand something in return, as the Curse Demon had sought my soul. That was simply the way demons operated.

Unexpectedly, it was the Lord of Ash who spoke first. "Your eyes betray much, Xiviyah. What is this need so dire that you seek out one such as myself?"

His eyes narrowed, their fiery glow intensifying. I took half a step back before realizing it was probably his way of expressing concern. He couldn’t demonstrate empathy like a human, but the gesture was still... unsettling.

I shook my head, gathering my scattered thoughts, and lowered my eyes respectfully, as I’d been trained to do as a slave. Asking for help had never been natural, even from those I trusted. Instead, I could only wait for them to offer and gratefully accept. To do more than that was too much for a timid soul like me to handle.

"I’m sorry," I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. "I didn’t know what else to do. I just... I need help."

He folded his arms, claws scraping against his scales, as I poured out the story of my prophesied fate at the hands of the Circle. I’d never shared this much with anyone; not even Korra or the Star Guard knew the full extent of it. But once I started talking, it all tumbled out in a jumbled, tearful confession.

A sudden crack made me look up, and I was nearly blinded by the fire surging around the demon. The stone beneath his feet glowed red, thick cracks spiderwebbing across the entire tile floor. His fury generated intense heat, whipping the flames into a frenzy and threatening to consume the entire room.

"They dare?"

The abject rage in his voice was terrifying, and I shrank back, clutching at my skirts. "I-I’m sorry—"

The fires died just as suddenly, leaving the demon in a sea of dancing ash and storm-tossed smoke. He turned to face me, the anger still smoldering in his eyes, seething just beneath the surface.

"You seek my aid."

It was more a statement than a question, and I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "P-please."

"Very well. I shall be there."

It was a simple, straightforward promise—the word of a demon. I shouldn’t – couldn’t – trust a demon. Especially this one, which everyone had warned me about.

But for some reason, his words rang true, filling my heart with warmth. It was unlike anything I’d felt before, save in the arms of those I treasured. It was a promise I could trust.

And so, after hesitating a moment, I lowered my head and whispered, "Thank you."

His gaze lingered on me a moment longer, and then, without another word, he turned and strode away. The ashes shifted like sand beneath his feet, rising in small eddies at the power trailing from his every movement. I watched him go, my tail twitching anxiously until the vision shattered.

Black ribbons tore through the world of fire and embers, ripping the vision apart and plunging me back into darkness. Fable’s growls grew louder as I returned to my soulspace, then to the real world. A powerful aura hit me as I blinked my eyes open, driving all thoughts but fear from my mind.

Panicked, I raised my staff protectively before me, soul-casting a Blade Ward and Mirror Sphere. By the time the shimmering spheres materialized, I’d regained my bearings and struggled to my feet.

The Cathedral of Fate was dark and dim; even my demonkin eyes struggled to pierce the gloom. Gradually, shapes and colors appeared in the darkness. First was Fable, standing protectively over me, his coat alight with silver stars.

Two burning red eyes glared at us from the shadows above the statue’s head. A wave of hostility crashed over me as our gazes met, sending a shiver down my spine. I clutched my staff tightly and pressed closer to Fable, seeking comfort in his warmth. I strained my eyes, searching for the body hidden in the shadows, but there was nothing. Just darkness. Just—no, it was the darkness. The creature hovered in the air, its feet inches above Fate’s head, seemingly formed from shadow itself. No soul illuminated its existence, leaving me blind to everything but its palpable anger. As my eyes adjusted, more details emerged. The shadow, a Remnant perhaps, was human-sized, but radiated an aura as powerful as a dragon’s. It had no depth or color variation, a silhouette of pure darkness. Yet, something resembling a cloak fluttered behind it, and its outline hinted at the shape of armor. My eyes were drawn to its hand, where a long, blade-like appendage extended menacingly towards us. "Fable," I whispered, my hand tightening in his fur, "what is it?" He growled low in his throat, and I sensed his confusion and unease through our bond. He had no more idea of its nature than I did. The Remnant shifted, floating down a few feet, crossing in front of Fate’s face as it advanced towards us. A terrible noise, like a sword scraping against glass, pierced the silence, making me wince. Was it trying to speak? The Remnant’s eyes narrowed, and the grating sound came again. This time, I could barely make out a distorted voice. "What have you done?"

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