The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 514: Hidden Dangers

Chapter 514: Hidden Dangers

I woke to morning light streaming through the tent, the previous day a hazy blur of cold and darkness. I vaguely remembered waking up and finding Luke and Fyren arguing over R’lissea, but everything was shrouded in a chilling fog after that.

I shivered against Fable, unsure if the cold from Haven had truly dissipated. His tail tightened around me, pulling me close to his side, his heartbeat hard and warm against mine. Somehow, I had changed into a nightdress, and I noticed Elise sleeping soundly on a cot beside mine. Had she moved into this tent to look after me?

Fable nuzzled my cheek, and I sighed, leaning against his warm fur. Relaxing into his embrace chased away the lingering chill and darkness of Haven’s taint. With his tail wrapped securely around me and his fur soft against my skin, I was tempted to drift back to sleep. Just the thought of pulling away and facing the cool autumn air made me shudder and snuggle closer.

But as my eyes fluttered closed, I suddenly remembered R’lissea’s words. Just how long have I been asleep? If I succumbed to slumber now, when would I wake again?

What was particularly strange was the absence of dreams or visions. I’d simply closed my eyes, and then it was morning. R’lissea had mentioned I slept for weeks at a time. Perhaps that was a mercy, considering the eternity I’d spent trapped in my soul space after the battle of Brithlite. Still, it was unsettling to lose so much time without any awareness.

Eventually, the fear of falling into another extended slumber overcame my reluctance, and I carefully untangled myself from Fable. Elise had cast a third-circle enchantment in the center of the tent, radiating waves of warmth that kept the chill at bay, but delicate swirls of frost still patterned the outer canvas. My gaze lingered on the frost, a reminder of the passage of time. When I’d last been outside, autumn had just arrived. Now, winter was knocking at the door.

Under normal circumstances, a month or two of rest would be a small price to pay for the freedom I had achieved. The loss of the sun purge alone was worth it, yet I couldn’t help but worry about my friends in the Last Light Company. My visions had shown them in good health, but if R’lissea was right, that could have been months ago. Where were they now? What were they doing without me? Had Korra and Gayron...?

I rubbed my horn, blushing at the thought even as I quickly pushed it aside. I had no love for Gayron, but if he could be there for Korra and support her in my absence, I could only be grateful. She deserved happiness, even if she found it in such an irritable man.

I had worried about what might happen when Gayron encountered the demon army, if he would leave her, but his presence in the Last Light Company in my vision revealed his true allegiance. That was confusing in its own right. He had been so driven to accomplish the demons’ goals, tirelessly urging Luke to kill us and, when that failed, trying to do it himself. What had happened to change that? Had meeting Korra truly altered his objectives as much as she had influenced his fighting style?

A wave of dizziness washed over me, my thoughts a jumbled mess. I clutched my horn, rubbing it fiercely as a pounding headache flared, then slowly subsided. When I could finally open my eyes without feeling nauseous, I pulled a beautiful dress of crimson silk from my spatial ring and changed out of my night dress. As I tied the white ribbon sash around my waist, Fable rose and trotted over to me. The movement stirred Elise, but she simply rolled over, hugging her pillow and rubbing her cheek against it with a contented sigh.

I immediately dismissed any thoughts of waking her. Her nights were undoubtedly troubled, plagued by nightmares and memories. And who knew how much time she had spent looking after me? It would be cruel to rob her of a chance to rest, especially when she looked so peaceful.

The weeks of inactivity had weakened my muscles, and I found myself leaning on Fable’s broad back for support as I stepped out of the tent. I longed to simply ride him, but a stubborn pride held me back. It was embarrassing enough to be carried around like a child, especially with so many demons watching.

The demons were relatively calm this morning, clustered across the camp. It was still a strange sight—demons as far as the eye could see. But they weren’t talking or laughing like soldiers. They simply existed, bound to this location by invisible commands. They were like a flock of birds mid-migration, covering every rooftop and tree, waiting for the signal to move on.

The peace shattered the moment I emerged from the tent. A thousand beady eyes locked onto my soul, their gazes filled with hunger. An evolved demon, a forty-foot-tall horror of fire and shadow, lumbered towards me, but froze as an eighth-level aura washed over the camp. Fyren strode through the throng of demons, his withering glare forcing the nearest clusters to recoil.

Fyren’s sudden appearance, coupled with his formidable aura, was an intimidating sight. He was in his demon form, eyes blazing like furious embers. He attempted a smile for me, but it came out as a menacing snarl, revealing rows of vicious teeth. Despite my efforts to remain composed, I couldn’t help but shrink back against Fable.

Fyren’s demonic form had haunted my dreams for years, a symbol of death and destruction. Perhaps, one day, I would grow accustomed to this terrifying visage, but for now, I much preferred his human form. That was the man I had come to trust, even after his deception about his true nature.

"Good morning, Xiviyah," Fyren greeted me in his low, rumbling voice. You look well—a little timid, but well."

"H-how long was I asleep?" I stammered, blushing slightly. After everything he’d done for me, he didn’t deserve to be treated with fear, but it was difficult to treat him normally. Not only did he have a terrifying appearance, but he was fifteen feet tall, forcing me to crane my head to speak to him.

He shrugged. "Four, maybe five days. Just enough time for us to finish tracking down and killing all those damned remnants."

"Remnants?" His eyes widened. "You know about them?"

"The Life Hero told me everything." He eyed me curiously, stroking his scaled chin in a human-like gesture. "To think you’ve had a miniature realm hiding inside you all this time."

I shivered, biting my lip, the memory of the darkness still raw. "It’s not a secret I want shared."

"Relax, I won’t let anyone try to hurt you for it," he assured me, but his voice had an unsettling urgency, as though it were a real possibility. "I wanted to ask you not to reveal that to anyone else. Anyone. Especially that tidbit about the shard." He emphasized "anyone" strongly, making me tilt my head in confusion.

"I know the gods are looking for it," I said slowly, "but Elise and R’lissea, though... isn’t that alright?"

"You’re aware of why the demons are here, aren’t you?" he asked, his tone serious.

I opened my mouth to answer that they were here for mana, but the words caught in my throat as a chilling realization hit me. "O-oh," I stammered, "I, um... I see."

How could I have been so foolish? I berated myself inwardly. The demons’ express purpose was consuming the Shards of Omniscience. It was reckless to even mention I was connected to them, let alone that I carried one within me. While I didn’t know what they could do with Haven in its current state, I only needed an apostle trying to extract it from me.

"I understand. I’ll be careful. But what exactly happened? R’lissea wouldn’t tell me, but I remember hearing fighting..."

Fyren’s expression softened, a surprising feat for a being of fire and scales. "The remnants emerged from the darkness," he explained, his voice low and grim, "like living shadows. There couldn’t have been more than ten of them, yet they slaughtered everything in their path."

"Did Luke fight them?" I asked, my eyes widening as I recalled Alveron’s sword passing harmlessly through the remnants.

Fyren shrugged. "Naturally. Though those bastards certainly aren’t easy to kill. If you can even call it killing. When they break apart, they simply rejoin the shadows. It’s like fighting mist."

I frowned, my tail twitching thoughtfully. "And, um, how did Luke do?"

"Not as well as I’d expected, given his reputation among the apostles," Fyren admitted. "His magic didn’t seem to have much effect on them. It mostly passed right through them."

"And your fire?" I asked.

"Again, not as effective as I’d hoped," he said, "though it fared better than Luke’s curses."

My shoulders slumped as the implications dawned on me. Immunity to curses and fire–two of the three elements Adaptive Resistance had reached the seventh level with. Alverin’s sword had been infused with curse magic and failed to impact them. That meant there were three points of evidence leading to the same conclusion.

It was a disturbing notion, but one I had to face. If the remnants possessed even a portion of my abilities, they were far more dangerous than I thought.

"They killed over a thousand demons," Fyren muttered. "Just ten of them, and that was while fighting Luke and myself. Just what kind of monsters do you have hidden in there?"

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