The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 541: The Apostles

Chapter 541: The Apostles

Fyren’s hands tightened into fists at her insults. "You have no say in this matter, Ixtra, and we will remain regardless of your wishes. Furthermore, her name is Xivyah, and she is no more tainted than your precious apostles."

The curse demon’s lips curled in a sneer. "I obey them at the command of my Emperor and for no other reason. They, along with this... Xiviyah belongs with the slaves in the Tainted’s camp."

The other tainted she was referring to were the demonkin and beastkin accompanying the army. They were crude and bloodthirsty. Did she believe I was no different from them?

Looking into her eyes confirmed that fear and so much more. I flinched as she met my eyes, and her sneer widened into a mocking grin.

"Perhaps I was too hasty to block your path, Lord of Ash."

"Then move," he said, stone-faced.

"Of course," she gestured, and she and the demons stepped aside. "After all, you named your slut ’conquered.’ It’s a suitable name for the apostle’s slave. Indeed," she said, nodding to herself. "I’d forgotten her role as his plaything. It would be unjust for me to deprive him of the chance to use his whore."

I lowered my eyes, tail curling limply at my feet. It was always the same, reduced to a tool, a symbol. Even with all my strength and Fyren beside me, I was just as helpless as before and could only endure the vitriol.

This demon, Ixtra, was too powerful to offend, a commander in the infernal horde. Disobeying her would turn the entire army against us, and even if Fyren and I would escape unscathed, could the same be true for Elise and R’lissea? After everything Luke had said, I had no doubt where his loyalties lay. It was his army, his chance at revenge, against some lonely girl he’d decided to help on a whim.

"Fyren..." I whispered, reaching up to take his hand. "Let’s just go."

His eyes were locked onto the Curse Demon’s, his hand trembling with anger, but he relaxed as my small fingers found his. His eyes turned down to me, a deep frown etched across his face, but I ignored him and walked forward, keeping my gaze lowered as I pulled him past the demons.

"That’s right, Broken One," Ixtra taunted as we passed. "I see the humans trained you well. See that you serve our Lords and Lady with equal skill."

One look at her told me she knew the same things I did, that there was nothing I could do about this. Fyren remained silent, simply watching me, content to let me lead. That was how he had always been, focusing solely on fulfilling my desires. He was ready to fight Luke when he thought the demonkin had hurt me and now stood down, swallowing his pride as I chose to endure the insults.

What had I, someone so insignificant, done to earn such unwavering loyalty? I...I couldn’t even escape this fate, falling into the same shadows Soltair dragged me through.

I barely registered the ruined interior of the keep or the scions Fyren ordered to guide us to the Apostles. Each step felt heavy and labored; the ease and lighthearted joy I’d felt earlier had vanished, replaced by a heavy weight of despair.

"Xiviyah," Fyren finally spoke, his voice surprisingly gentle despite the anger simmering within him.

"It’s fine," I mumbled, on the edge of tears. "I’m used to this."

I sensed he wanted to say more, offer comfort, or perhaps even challenge my resignation, but I hurried on, afraid that if he did, I would start crying. I’d come so far, grown so much, only to find myself back where I started, powerless and trapped. But I had to endure it, if not for myself, then for my friends. I had to protect them, no matter the cost.

The feeling of several powerful auras nearby caused me to sniffle, quickly wiping the moisture from my eyes with my sleeve. Fyren and I stopped before a large, ornate door, and the scions who had guided us scurried away. I took a few seconds to compose myself, steeling my resolve with a deep, shaky breath.

"Ready?" Fyren asked, his gaze steady on me. Since the encounter with Ixtra, his eyes hadn’t left me, filled with a sadness that seemed out of place in their usually fiery depths.

"What choice do we have?" I murmured, trying to sound braver than I felt. "But yes, let’s go. Even Luke can’t take anything from me I haven’t already lost."

Fyren raised a massive hand and pushed the door open. The heavy door, likely weighing over a hundred pounds, practically leaped off its hinges at his touch, revealing the ruined throne room beyond.

Tattered banners and trophies hung askew on the soot-stained walls, and dried bloodstains marred the floor. The throne was shattered, split in two, its remains resting on a raised dais against the far wall. The flag of the Ingrid Alliance lay crumpled at its feet. Cracks and fissures ran through the floor and walls, the scars of high-level combat.

A large table, apparently dragged in from the dining halls, found its place within the carnage. Luke, Jessia, and a few others sat around, speaking in hushed voices. A light breakfast was spread over the stained wood, but none had touched their plates yet. A space to Luke’s right was conspicuously open, waiting for its occupant.

The whole party looked up as we entered, eyes fastening on me. I stumbled, missing a step, as several auras locked onto my soul, putting me under a combined pressure equal to that of a ninth-level being.

I quickly regained my balance, though I proceeded afterward much less sure, my tail twitching anxiously for all to see. Evla sat beside Jessia, her strange white horns glowing in the soft firelight, but I didn’t recognize two other apostles. That they were powerful was no question; aside from their auras, their souls blazed with seventh-level power.

"Xiviyah!" Luke’s face brightened as he recognized me and quickly rose to his feet. His tail swished back and forth excitedly. "You’re awake!"

The other apostles glanced at him suspiciously, and I felt a measure of their curiosity. Luke was forever cold and calculating, hardly the kind of person to greet someone so enthusiastically. Only Jessia seemed relaxed, lounging in her chair with one leg draped over the ornately carved armrest.

"H-hello," I murmured timidly, lowering my eyes respectfully. The encounter with Ixtra had been a stark reminder of our precarious position, and I couldn’t risk offending them further by acting above my station. Fortunately, this kind of thing came naturally to me.

Luke frowned at my deference, and I bit my lip, unsure what I had done wrong. It seemed my attempts at subservience hadn’t been enough, so I added a small curtsy for good measure.

Jessia scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Stop groveling and get over here. I’m starving!"

"Jessia, be polite," Luke chided, shooting her a glare. "She’s just woken up and probably more than a little disoriented."

"She’s been sleeping for a whole week," one of the unfamiliar apostles said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Yet today, coincidentally, you had us wait to start eating in the hope she’d wake up?"

Luke’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he just shrugged. "I have ears all over the camp."

"Why don’t you join them?" Fyren murmured to me, his voice low enough for only my ears. "I’ll be waiting outside."

"W-wait," I stammered, gripping his hand tighter. "Please..."

He gently extracted himself from my grasp, and my tail began to twitch nervously.

"Don’t worry, you’ll be fine," he reassured me. "Just... be yourself. I don’t think you have much to worry about."

He shot Luke with a pointed look, but the meaning was lost on me, and I just shook my head. He could only say that because he didn’t understand what was at stake. Even if he didn’t know about Fate, didn’t he remember the Shard? I may have decided to give Luke another chance, but that was before he’d learned my secrets. Could I really trust him now?

Fyren ignored my pleading gaze and closed the door softly behind him. I could still feel his presence just beyond the door, yet as I turned back to the apostles, I found myself wishing I had brought Fable along. He never would have abandoned me like that.

Well, considering his track record, perhaps he would have. He always seemed to find a way to leave me in uncomfortable situations, especially when it came to large groups of people. Sometimes, I thought he enjoyed watching me squirm, like when he abandoned me in the middle of the Last Light Company, forcing me to face their compliments and questions alone.

Actually, compared to that, having breakfast with a couple of bloodthirsty apostles didn’t seem so bad.

With that thought in mind, I followed Luke’s gesture to the empty seat beside his. Evla was on the other side, and as I tentatively sat, it felt far too cramped. I couldn’t keep an eye on both her and Luke at the same time, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"Xiviyah, these are the other apostles," Luke said, taking his seat beside me. "You already know Jessia and Evla, right?"

I nodded, shrinking under their intense scrutiny. My tail curled around the leg of my chair, and I gripped my skirts tightly beneath the table, seeking something to hold onto.

"It’s been a while," Evla said. While she didn’t seem unfriendly, her eyes were cold and calculating, shifting between me and Luke. "I never had a chance to thank you for your vision. Apparently, it saved my life."