The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 557: Arantius

Chapter 557: Arantius

The Cathedral of Fate dominated the city skyline, the transformation from the dilapidated ruin I remembered was nothing short of breathtaking. Its spires soared, gleaming softly in the starlight. The stained glass windows, now pristine and vibrant, displayed colorful depictions of Fate and her heroes. I even recognized Gathrin’s imposing figure in one, his sword point driven into the ground, his hand resting on the cross guard.

The cathedral radiated a welcoming warmth that intensified as we drew closer. It was a beacon in the night, its radiance illuminating the inner city as though it were midday.

The main gates stood open, anticipating our arrival. Intricate tile mosaics shimmered beneath our feet, smooth as glass and colored in gold, silver, and white hues. The ceilings were patterned after the night sky, a myriad of shining stars illuminating the expansive hallways and rooms.

The main corridor led directly into the inner sanctum, where the massive statue of Fate and the remnant had once stood. Now, the statue was gone, replaced by the radiant shard of omniscience. It glittered brightly, refracting starlight into countless rainbows that danced across the room’s surfaces.

Standing before it was a remnant. My breath hitched as its eyes settled on me, a wave of panic flaring in my chest. Of all the remnants, this one I recognized—the terrifying visage of the guardian of Fate’s Cathedral.

I willed myself to follow Luke, who had entered the room unfazed, but my feet refused to obey. My chest ached where the slave crest had once marred my flesh, my breath shallow and heart erratic. Though the hall now gleamed with gilded splendor, the last time I had stood here, it was against Alverin. For a terrifying moment, I saw his silhouette beside the remnant, a grinning specter of his living self.

"You’ll never forget me," his voice whispered, a haunting echo in my mind. "The mark I’ve left on your heart. And because of that... you’ll always be my slave."

I whimpered involuntarily, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood. Was he right? Lately, I had been succumbing to old fears and anxieties, from mistrusting Fyren to this very moment, trembling at the memory of a man I had killed. After all this time, why couldn’t I truly escape the past? I wanted to believe in the possibility of freedom from the darkness, but what was I missing? How many pieces of the puzzle were still hidden from me?

"Xiviyah, dwell not on the past," Fate’s voice cut through the suffocating memories, banishing Alverin’s specter. "The past is a shackle as real as any chain. Live now, in this moment, and you can be free."

I hesitated, my gaze drawn back to the imposing remnant. Its sword was sheathed, but it had tried to kill me before, and if it really wanted to, there was nothing I could do to protect myself from it. Beyond that, it was also the only remnant who had ever spoken to me, condemning me for tainting this realm with darkness.

"Come in peace, Oracle," The remnant’s voice resonated, ancient yet soothing. "You have nothing to fear in these hallowed halls."

With a deep breath, I allowed Fate to guide me forward, towards the shard and the imposing figure that stood before it. I realized with a jolt that, unlike the other remnants we had encountered, this one was old. His hair was thin, and many deep wrinkles etched across his face. Though he had no color, I could easily imagine his neatly trimmed beard as gray with age.

Despite his physical frailty, he exuded an overwhelming aura of power, greater even than the Pope’s. His mere presence caused the air to shimmer around him, a subtle ripple that testified to his soul’s weight against the tapestry of fate.

The remnant bowed low, "Thank you, my lady, for visiting one as humble as I. It has been long since we last spoke."

Fate chuckled, a sound like chiming bells. "It has been a matter of hours, Arantius. No need for such dramatics."

The old hero smiled and straightened, his eyes finally settling on Luke, then on me, half-hidden behind Fate. I cringed as his gaze met mine, but his expression softened.

"Greetings, little oracle," he said, his voice warm and grandfatherly. "I am grateful for the chance to meet you face to face, and I apologize for my actions while under the influence of the taint."

He bowed again, this time to me.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice trembling as I clung to Fate’s side.

He straightened and clasped his hands, his eyes distant and filled with memories. "Simply a memory of a world long forgotten to both gods and demons."

"There’s no need for modesty," Fate interjected, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder and gently guiding me forward. "This is Arantius, my first hero. He is the strongest in this realm, the final guardian of Haven."

"You’re...strong," Luke gasped, drawing my attention. He was rigid, his tail sticking out straight behind him. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his hands unconsciously gripped the hilt of his sword. His eyes held...fear, an emotion I rarely saw in him.

"And what kind of hero are you? I’ve never seen one so tainted by the demonic." Arantius studied him closely. From the swirling eddies of power radiating from his soul toward Luke, he was clearly allowing the apostle to experience his aura fully.

"He’s no hero, Arantius," Fate said smoothly, gliding forward to lay a hand on the old hero’s arm. "This is Xiviyah’s... friend."

"Is that so?" the remnant’s gaze raked over me, not missing the distance I kept from Luke or the flinch that betrayed my apprehension at the word ’friend.’

"I am Luke, Apostle of the Descent," Luke declared defiantly, "commander of the Demon Emperor of Curses’ army while in this realm." His body still trembled under the weight of the remnant’s aura, but his gaze remained unwavering.

A tense silence hung in the air before the oppressive aura abruptly vanished. Luke stumbled forward, caught off guard by the sudden release. He quickly regained his composure, stepping instinctively between me and the remnant. Though the move appeared coincidental, he cast me a subtle glance as he shifted position, ensuring he effectively shielded me from the imposing figure.

"I accept your presence here, Apostle," the remnant said, nodding slowly. "It is most curious that your masters have elected to experiment with this approach. Calling heroes is only effective because they bolster the faith of the world, thus giving the god a net return in power. Demons must expend their own strength to grant you abilities rivaling a hero’s."

"It is rather mysterious," Fate agreed with a knowing smile. "But do not rush to judgment, old friend. This world holds more significance than you know."

The remnant nodded slowly, following her gaze towards me. "Ah, yes, I see. So you’ve placed all your hopes on this mortal, then."

Fate’s serene expression didn’t falter as she draped an arm around my shoulders. "Xiviyah is quite special. I do hope you’ll give her the chance to complete the rites."

"The rites?" I asked, snuggling closer to Fate’s side. Their conversation was far above my head, but if it meant staying near her, I wouldn’t object.

"I’m afraid that’s impossible," the remnant declared without a second thought. "She hasn’t even reached the eighth level, let alone the ninth."

"And that fact alone proves her worth more than anything, does it not?" Fate countered. "Who else has unlocked the secrets of the Final Star so early?"

He hesitated, and Fate grinned, giving me a squeeze. The hug lingered longer than necessary before she gently prodded my back, urging me towards the remnant.

Arantius folded his arms, his translucent eyes scrutinizing me from head to toe. Once again, I felt his gaze pierce my defenses, leaving my soul naked and exposed. He rubbed his chin, deep in thought, before shrugging.

"I fail to understand your confidence," he admitted. "The Divine Curse cripples her soul, and she’s barely more developed than a child."

I blushed, hugging my chest. It was obvious he meant more than just my physical stature, but compared to Korra and Elise, I was indeed... petite.

His words stung, striking at insecurities I couldn’t deny. My emotions were in turmoil, and my weaknesses were glaring. I was the most vulnerable of any hero or apostle, utterly helpless on my own. The realization was sobering, its weight amplified by memories of countless times I had been forced to rely on others, and how far I fell short of true heroes like Korra and R’lissea.

"But, if you recommend her, I shall acquiesce," the remnant conceded. "Come, child, to the shard. Let us complete the rite and grant you access to this realm’s light."

I glanced at Fate, seeking reassurance. She nodded, her expression serene. Hesitating only a moment longer, I exhaled slowly and followed him toward the massive shard floating in the center of the sanctum. Luke frowned, seemingly about to speak, but a sharp look from Fate silenced him. He bowed his head and stepped aside.

"Lay your hand upon the shard," the remnant instructed.

I obeyed, closing my eyes as a wave of warmth surged through me, my soul connecting with the mana of the shard. My tail instinctively curled around my leg, and I gasped, my eyes flying open.

This mana... it was unlike anything I had ever encountered. What was going on here?

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