The Forsaken Hero-Chapter 660: Demon Lord’s Warning

The Arbiter’s Amulet dangled from Fyren’s hand, slowly rotating in the moonlight. It was the figure of an angel stretching her wings within the bounds of a thin golden ring. Its power matched that of the artifacts the gods had given Enusia, bearing enough weight to slightly warp the weave of fate.

The amulet released a mana pulse, and a shimmering, mirror-like circle of flames swirled in front of Fyren. The edges were ragged with wisps of red, a window to a realm of fire and fury. A demon that resembled Fyren’s demon form appeared, save its scales were ashen white instead of dark red and black.

"Incinderus?" Fyren asked, raising an eyebrow. "What is the meaning of this?"

The demon bowed its draconic head. "Forgive my intrusion, Lord of Ash. I mean no disrespect."

Fyren waved his hand. "Think nothing of it. I simply wasn’t expecting a demon lord to come calling. Aren’t you busy preparing for the descent?"

The demon lord grimaced. "I’m afraid the fires have burned awry. Rash’alon has gained access to a gate. He will likely join the descent in the first wave."

"I thought he fell out of favor?" Fyren rubbed his forehead. "Ah, damn it all. In all the eternities, why is it now that the Curse Emperor decided to show mercy?"

"Perhaps it is an old favor, or the emperor doesn’t want to risk a more important pawn in the first stages of the descent."

Fyren sighed and rubbed his head. "I suppose he’ll be ninth?"

"Likely eighth. This realm’s dimensional wall is strong. There’s no way he could exert even a tenth of his power."

"Then it’s fine. I doubt I’d lose to that bastard, even weak as I am. Besides, if he makes a move on her, the Inevitable one will surely make a move."

"Has it grown that powerful?" Incinderus asked.

Fyren inclined his head. "The beast possesses all of the Oracle’s strengths and none of her weaknesses. It contended with an eighth level inquisitor while only seventh. Now that it’s broken through...? I doubt I could win against it."

"That’s good news. But what of the Oracle herself? Are your preparations complete?"

"She’s proven more fragile than we anticipated," Fyren admitted. "After the last battle, she’s spent her days locked in the safety of her realm. While no harm can come to her there, it’s been difficult to maneuver her where we need her, especially without her noticing."

"Are you certain her realm is secure? I can divert another gate or two to your location. A few thousand demons could prove useful, even if they are Devoted."

"No, any more would only intimidate her. She only extended her mark recently and still has yet to truly accept it. She’s like a frightened kitten, hiding under a tree as it storms around her. It will take time for me to sway her in this matter."

The demon lord released a puff of flames, the demon equivalent of a sigh. "Is it true that damned apostle started negotiating a surrender?"

"I’m afraid so. He’s grown...unpredictable since his association with the oracle."

Incinderus’s eyes narrowed. "You allow them to speak? You know how the Curse Emperor is about his mortal servants."

"This one is different, somehow. Call it intuition."

Incinderus barked a laugh. It grated on my ears like glass scraping together.

"You’ve been spending too much time with the Oracle, haven’t you. The apostle’s nature is like a raging fire. It burns everything it touches and taints it with blood and darkness. Otherwise, he never would have been chosen."

"Perhaps you are right, but perhaps not. This realm is a time of firsts."

"This is a risk we can’t afford. Kill him if you must, but there is too much riding on the Oracle’s shoulders to allow a poison like him near her."

"Do not doubt my purpose, nor my conviction. I will do what I must."

Fyren’s response was cold and vicious, causing my chest to tighten. They were talking about Luke.

But Luke wasn’t like that at all! He was kind and gentle, never putting me in harm’s way. Well, not recently.

Yet, deep inside, a small voice nagged. I knew Luke in a way unlike anyone else. Our souls had entangled, giving a window into the darkest portions of his mind. I’d seen what he was capable of, what he was willing to do to get revenge on the church. Compared to that fire burning in his heart, whatever strange draw he felt for me was nothing more than embers in the wind. For all I thought of him, I wasn’t even sure if I could call him a friend, not like Fable, Korra, or Elise. He was...different. I couldn’t really describe it.

But I knew I didn’t want to be away from him. Even the thought caused my heart to ache, just like it did being apart from Korra. There was no explanation, no reason for me to feel that way, but I did. Did Fyren really want me to never speak with him again? To never feel his hand in my hair or his gentle voice in my ear?

Incinderus spoke again. "I must be going now, but I leave a last warning. The Divine has something planned, something big. The Oracle is at her most vulnerable now. You cannot leave her side again, especially if the Divine’s servants are around."

"I am aware. I won’t make that mistake again," Fyren said.

The demon snorted a lick of fire. "The great Lord of Ash admitting fault. Perhaps times really are changing."

The window started to flicker, breaking up.

"Farewell, Incinderus, and good luck. May your fires burn bright," Fyren said.

The demon lord nodded. "And yours, though I suspect you’ll need more luck than I. After all, the fate of all demons rests on your shoulders. Do not disappoint us."

Fyren chuckled and slashed his hand through the window, disrupting it. His amulet disappeared back under his shirt, and he turned to leave. As he left the alley, he stiffened, turning to face the spire looming over his section of the city. His eyes narrowed.

The ground shuddered, a faint pressure seizing the city. The crystal lights illuminating the streets flickered, and the stars retreated. Another quake shook the spire, more violent this time. Voices rose in the distance, filled with panic. Fyren drew his sword, the blade erupting in fire.

His lip curled grimly, and he braced himself, gathering power. "Let’s see what kind of surprise you holy bastards prepared for us."

He stomped on the ground, launching himself into the air. He blazed a trail of fire across the sky like a comet, his departure leaving a large crater in the obsidian streets below. At the same time, a devastating aura enveloped the city, filled with fire, ash, and despair. Plumes of fire, dust, and mana erupted from the spire, plunging the city into darkness and smoke.

Fissures spread through the upper reaches of the spire, and colossal chunks of igneous rock broke off, crashing down the mountain in landslides that buried hundreds, maybe thousands, of homes. Screams of pain and anguish rent the air. A boulder the size blasted off the spire’s peak, plummeting directly toward me. I screamed, reflexively covering my head. It filled the sky like an upside-down mountain.

The vision scattered as the rockfall struck, my spirit from breaking apart entirely. When it reformed and my consciousness returned, I was back in my soulspace. I curled up in a ball, trembling, my chest heaving. Even without real, physical lungs, breathing was difficult, my heart pounding so quickly it hurt.

It had happened too quickly. One moment, I was worried about Luke; the next, a literal mountain fell on top of me. And there was that aura coming from the spire itself. It brought to mind another time I’d been buried under a mountain, a fuzzy image of wings, teeth, and claws. Of a city bathed in flames and a dark dungeon afterward.

The world started shaking, jarring me from my soulspace. I woke with a start and tried to scream, but a hand covered my mouth. I froze, struggling to see anything through the blurry haze of waking so suddenly. I clutched the wrist that held me, finding it like iron. My eyes started to tear up. Was it an inquisitor? Would the next thing I felt be a collar?

"Shhh, it’s okay. It’s just me."

Luke’s familiar voice pierced the darkness. I immediately drew a deep breath, loosening my grip on his wrist. My senses gradually sharpened, and I made out his violet eyes over me, filled with concern. As I stopped struggling, his hand relaxed, moving to brush the hair out of my eyes.

"I-I’m alright," I stammered, though I still trembled slightly. Not just from the terror of my vision but of Luke. He was here, in my room. Just the two of us. And he was still touching my cheek.