The Forsaken Hero-Chapter 699: The Truth

"Xiviyah, surely you’re hungry by now. You have to eat something."

R’lissea’s exasperated voice stung my ears, but I curled up, hugging Fable tighter. I had no memory of leaving the manor after the banquet, or anything, really. Every time I closed my eyes, I was alone with the darkness. But opening them was worse. The sunlight, crystal lights, and even the stars felt mocking, a reminder that the things I had experienced were only an illusion. There was no warmth and light to find.

R’lissea shook my shoulder gently. "It’s been a week. Can’t you at least tell me what happened? Fyren said you were all alone and the shard was empty. You didn’t try to absorb it, did you?"

"Elaine already said Luke was scheduled to take it during the banquet," Elise said. "Besides, you remember how quickly Fyren left the banquet? I was afraid he would tear right through the walls to get to her. He felt something through the mark."

I flinched. I hadn’t realized she was here. Wherever here even was. All I knew for sure was that it wasn’t Haven, which was good because I didn’t know how I would face Fate now.

"I know you are recovering, but eating is part of that," R’lissea said. "Your body won’t feel any better unless you put something in it. And if your body is weak, you won’t be able to use your soul, either. No more practicing magic. You don’t want that, right?"

She rocked me back, using her superior strength to pull me away from Fable. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying not to gag as she fed me a spoonful of broth. It matched the taste of stew in my memories, probably something I would have enjoyed, but it was like ash in my mouth. Everything was, from the bread of a few days ago to the pastry she’d tried to get me to eat yesterday.

After a few spoonfulls, I turned my head. Even if I had an appetite, I didn’t feel like eating. R’lissea tried again before letting out a resigned sigh and leaving my side. Her and Elise’s presence retreated, and I heard the creak of a door.

"Are you sure she didn’t just push herself too hard? It might be backlash from the battle," Elise whispered at the edge of my hearing.

R’lissea replied just as quietly. "I’m not saying it’s not a factor, but Xiviyah has a history of falling unconscious when her soul’s too stressed. If I were looking at it objectively, I’d say her soul is in worse condition than after I first healed her from the sunpurge, but there’s something more. She’s always brightened any time we’ve entered the room before. Now, she flinches. Has she even looked at you once?"

Their voices retreated down the hallway. Guilt gnawed at my stomach, but I squeezed my eyes shut. Fable shifted, giving a disapproving frown.

"I can’t," I whispered.

He could feel everything I did through our bond. Why couldn’t he understand?

At some point, I fell asleep and emerged in my soulspace. It had been close to ritual these past few days. Wake for a few hours, then appear in my soul space and drift through dreams and visions for the rest. It was almost more bothersome than being awake, but at least there was something for me to think about other than Luke.

I floated at the entrance of a tent amongst a demon horde many times larger than one Luke led. It was hard to see clearly, but there had to be over fifty thousand scions and another five thousand evolved demons. It was night, and there was a small campfire in front of the tent. Two figures were hunched over it, a demonkin with white horns and a broad-shouldered man with skin that glistened like steel in the firelight.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Evla muttered, casting a dark look at the tent. "You’d think someone killed his sister all over again."

Constance shrugged. "Who knows. He was like that when I got here. Maybe he’s depressed about the Descent. He’s been basically unchallenged since now, but a few demon lords showing up will make things interesting. It’s what, a week away?"

Evla’s brow creased. "It’s not like they’re going to be able to actually threaten him, are they?"

The Apostle of Blades shrugged. "That depends on whether or not they can find any weaknesses to leverage. He’s undoubtedly stronger mana-wise, yet there are other, more personal aspects to his rule they might threaten. Someone close to him, someone vulnerable."

Evla shivered. "Pity. I liked her."

They fell silent as a third figure strode into the firelight, cloak concealing their face. I stiffened, finding the soul strangely familiar. The figure pulled back her hood, revealing R’lissea’s delicate features. I’d been listening half-heartedly until now, not really interested in these two unfamiliar apostles or what they had to say, yet I leaned forward, focusing on the conversation.

Constance’s eyebrows rose. "Bold of you to walk so brazenly in a demon horde. Even if you have Luke’s protection, do you really trust demons so much?"

R’lissea narrowed her eyes. "Move, apostle. I must speak with Luke."

Evla rose and moved to stand in front of her. She wasn’t tall but was still a few inches over R’lissea.

"He’s not at your beck and call, hero," she said.

R’lissea maintained her gaze, but her hands twisted into her skirt. "Please, it’s important. There’s something I have to ask him."

Evla bristled, her tail lashing. "I said he’s not taking visitors."

Both girls’ auras started to leak, clashing against each other in small eddies that swept away from their bodies. The tent flap drew open, and Luke stared out. His eyes were hollow and red around the edges. His horns, normally so strong and lustrous, were dull, and his tail dragged across the ground. He looked...haggard.

"That’s enough, Evla. What do you want?"

R’lissea’s expression hardened. "Are you happy?"

Luke snorted. "Happy? Since when has that ever been a consideration?"

"I should have known," R’lissea muttered. "Otherwise, why would you care so little about her happiness? What did you do to her? If you forced yourself on her, I swear I’ll–"

Luke growled, "R’lissea! How dare you suggest I would do something like that to her! This has nothing to do with you."

"Nothing? She’s barely eaten in two weeks, Luke. She hasn’t even looked at me. Every night, she wakes up sobbing, asking what she did wrong. Begging over and over for you to forgive her. So tell me, Luke. What did she do wrong? What justified you in hurting her like this?"

Luke gritted his teeth. "She yearns for the light, yet I have nothing but darkness to give her. I made a choice. I had to."

R’lissea glared at him, arms crossed. "You chose wrong."

He spat, "I don’t expect you to understand. There’s so much more at stake than she could imagine."

"You act like you’re the only one who’s ever had to make a hard choice," R’lissea retorted. "Xiviyah positively glowed when she was with you, and every day you weren’t there, she wondered where you were, what you were doing, and if you were thinking about her. Now look at what you’ve done. You’ve broken everything she’s tried to become and returned her to the same girl who crawled out of Lord Byron’s dungeon. You might as well have raped and killed her, too. It’s not like that would hurt her any more deeply."

Tears ran down my face as she tore every scar in my heart open. Something clogged my mind, dark and suffocating. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t even end the vision.

Luke stared at the ground, his hands trembling slightly. He closed them into fists.

"Xiviyah..." he whispered. "That’s not what I...I didn’t want you to..."

He shook his head, rubbing his horn furiously.

"It doesn’t matter anymore," he said. "After the descent, we’ll have enough power to take the rest of this continent and secure our foundations. It will be simple to march on the southern continent and take the World Shard. After that, I’ll ascend and leave this world behind. It’s my purpose, my calling. My revenge."

R’lissea bit her lip, sounding on the edge of tears herself. "She doesn’t hate you, you know."

"She should." He turned his back on the fire, walking back into the tent before pausing, glancing over his shoulder. "Tell her to stay away, that I don’t care for her, nor should she for me. It was only an illusion. Promise me."

R’lissea shook her head. "I won’t lie to her."

"Please." He sounded desperate now, giving Evla and Constance an uneasy glance. "The descent is upon us. She can’t be close to me."

The vision faded as he let the tent flap fall back into place. I drifted through a few more visions, but none of them mattered. How could I care if I saw Elise receiving a crown or R’lissea kneeling in a sea of darkness, surrounded by shambling corpses?

The truth was that Luke had cast me aside, like so many before. In the end, he was just like Soltair.