The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 537: Arms of the Fire Demon

Chapter 537: Arms of the Fire Demon

The question caught me off guard, and it took me a few seconds to process his words. "Am I...?" I stammered.

He gestured to the sky with a helpless expression. "You know, with the rift?"

This time, it was my turn to blush, my tail twitching in embarrassment. "Oh, um, yes."

This wasn’t at all how it was supposed to go. Luke hated the gods with a passion, and he needed the Shard to gain power. Now, he had both a Shard and a goddess within reach, and I was powerless to stop him from taking either. Sure, Fate might be hidden for now, but I knew she wasn’t gone, and she definitely didn’t have the power to defend herself from an eighth-level being... probably. So why wasn’t he seizing this opportunity?

Despite my fears, I wasted no time and quickly nodded. "Yes, we should go. I’m sure they’re worried about us in Enusia."

I summoned my staff and waved it, opening a shimmering gate to the outside world. Unlike before, there was no resistance, and Haven heeded my call without complaint.

As I moved to step through the portal, Luke caught my hand. His touch sent a thrill through me, and startling me, and I quickly pulled away, turning to him with wide eyes. My tail twitched anxiously as he met my gaze with a solemn expression.

"Xiviyah," he began, choosing his words carefully, "demons rule by strength, and those who are weak only survive by serving those who are strong. I know it’s hard for you, but... does it really hurt that much to pretend to be my servant or even a slave? Even if it’s only in name, it will guarantee the protection of you and your friends. Otherwise..."

I stiffened, my tail increasing from a twitch to an agitated lash. What was he even saying? He had seen me in my darkest moments and witnessed what I had to endure to be free.

Wasn’t this the very same thing Soltair had asked of me? To endure the slave crest as a gesture of peace, to accept what came because of it? I had trusted him then, blindly believing he cared for me and would always protect me.

Slowly, day by day, the slave crest had become my reality. While our relationship had started as far more than master and slave, that was where it had ended. Luke had proven he was different from Soltair, but could I trust him with something like that? Could I allow myself to become a slave again, even if only in name?

"Luke," I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. "You... you know the darkness... how could you ask that of me?"

He gazed at me for the longest time, expression giving nothing away. Even his tail was still.

My heart beat in my chest, a nervous flutter that caused my breath to come in short, shallow gasps. He had already proven he would do anything to accomplish his goals. While I wanted to believe we, too, had a relationship that was more than captive and captor, that there was something to the warmth he gave me, I couldn’t trust it—not after Soltair.

"Let’s go," he finally said, turning from me.

I watched his retreating back as he strode into the gate, sagging as I felt his presence depart from Haven. From the look in his eye, something had changed. He was resolved now, for good or ill.

I took one last look at Haven, admiring the sweeping skies and floating islands. Little had changed since I’d healed the rift; the shadows were still deep, the sky gloomy, but the golden glow over the realm had begun to fade. The Shard glittered as brightly as ever, and through the Oracle of Eternity, I could see the lingering cracks in the sky beginning to close.

Behind the fading darkness, tiny, glittering points of light emerged. They were far and faint, but growing brighter with every passing moment. The stars of Haven were returning.

"Thank you, Fate," I whispered, pressing a hand to my chest. A subtle warmth pierced the bitter cold to touch my heart.

Without another look, I turned and stepped through the portal. The teleportation was softer this time, a slight wrench that quickly faded while leaving me breathless.

The shadows parted, and I found myself amidst the ruins of what I could only assume was Whitecliff, though it bore little resemblance to the city I had left. Destruction stretched as far as the eye could see. Buildings were toppled and shattered, deep scars marred the cobblestone streets, and even the once-imposing city walls were breached. Fires raged, casting an eerie glow upon the falling snow, and massive craters wider than city blocks pockmarked the landscape. The air was thick with smoke and ash, the fine particles clinging to my hair and clothes, refusing to melt.

Fable bounded through the portal after me, and the shimmering circle vanished. I looked around for Luke but froze as an unsettling aura swept over the street. I instinctively summoned my staff and channeled my mana as several demons emerged from the smoke and debris.

Fable growled, stepping protectively before me but relaxed as he recognized the hulking silhouette approaching through the smoke.

It took me a moment longer to identify the familiar soul, and as I did, my tail drooped in relief. "Fyren?" I called out tentatively.

"Xiviyah!" he shouted, rushing towards us.

As he ran, covering dozens of yards with each stride, his body exploded into a cloud of sparks. He emerged from the dancing embers in his human form, and Fable stepped aside, allowing the demon through.

Fyren grabbed my shoulders, his eyes frantically searching for any sign of injury. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. "They didn’t hurt you, did they?"

His jostling left me slightly faint, but I shook my head. He let out a heavy sigh and, at seeing the shivers that wracked my body, pulled me into a hug. I squirmed, gasping for breath in the tight embrace, but quickly fell still as his soul began radiating his characteristic warmth. The sudden rush was smothering, leaving me breathless and sending a torrent of tingling energy through my soul.

The bitter cold that had clung to me since entering Haven began to melt away, replaced by the heat of his embrace. I instinctively snuggled closer, my tail instinctively curling around his leg, basking in his presence. For the first time since Haven had fractured, I stopped shivering.

"By the gods, how are you even standing?" Fyren muttered, scowling. "Just what the hell was that bastard thinking, taking you into the city like this? And to think I allowed him to use the Devoted."

His voice was a low, dangerous rumble that raised the hair on the back of my neck. Bits of his aura escaped his soul, and I felt a surge of killing intent.

Fyren glanced down as he felt me shiver and let out an exasperated sigh before restraining his aura and muttering, "Ah, damn it. I forget how fragile you are sometimes."

One of his hands rose and stroked my hair, smoothing it down my back in long, reassuring gestures. It felt awkward initially, the demon obviously unaccustomed to being quite intimate. Still, when I responded well and snuggled against him, my heart began to calm, and his confidence improved. Slowly, the fear, tension, and exhaustion of the last few hours leaked out of me, swallowed up in his embrace.

"It’s alright, Fyren," I murmured, leaning against his chest. "Please, don’t be mad."

"Hmm?" His voice shifted to curiosity so quickly that it caused me to wonder whether his fury had been genuine at all. "What do you mean by that?"

My eyes fluttered shut, and I inhaled deeply, grateful as Fyren took more and more of my weight in his arms. The night had grown late; it must have been early morning now. The constant ache of my limbs and the heaviness of my eyes reminded me that a few hours of sleep had done little to dull the previous day’s exhaustion, never mind just how much strength I’d expended channeling the Shard’s mana and healing Fate.

"Xiviyah," Fyren said slowly. "What exactly happened? I presumed, after hearing R’lissea’s story, that Luke all but kidnapped you and took you to the city to use you as a weapon."

"She knew all that?" I asked, forcing my eyes open and looking up at him.

He shrugged, meeting my gaze, his eyes smoldering with fiery light. "Perhaps not exactly," he admitted, "but considering what I knew of the apostles’ position and the city’s strength, it was easy enough to deduce. So tell me, is that not what happened?"

"No, it is," I whispered, looking down again. My heart trembled as scenes and memories of the last few hours flashed through my mind. That was certainly what had happened, and yet... why was I feeling this way? What even was I feeling?

"Then...?" he prompted, letting the question hang in the air.

"You didn’t care about the city," I stated softly, more to myself than to him.

I felt him flinch beneath me, his hand halting its caress midway down my back.

"No," he admitted, his voice carefully neutral. "I don’t. But I do care about you, and Luke made you do this—" He gestured with his free hand at the devastation surrounding us, at the corpses littering the street. "Don’t try to pretend that doesn’t affect you, that you don’t feel alone and betrayed. That you’re not hurt."

"I don’t know," I confessed, squeezing my eyes shut, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. "I should feel like that, and I... I think I do. It’s just, well..."

I trailed off, sniffling as a tear crawled down my cheek, wetting his leather jerkin.

"Well?" he prompted, his voice gentle.

"He came back," I whispered, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "Luke actually came back."