The Forsaken Hero-Chapter 721: Wanderer of Fallen Storms

Fyren grinned at my shock. "I helped kill it, of course. It’s only natural I absorb something of its soul."

"But that’s...Connor took it," I said.

He shrugged. "Not fast enough. I was with Elaine when she struck it down and followed its corpse into the city below. I’m afraid things happened quickly after that, so I only got a portion, but I can’t say the gains aren’t worthwhile."

"So you can regenerate now?" R’lissea asked.

"To some degree. Demons gain new abilities through consuming creatures stronger than themselves, but it’s more like acquiring blueprints. The efficacy of the ability relies heavily on the demon’s power level and skill at using its mana."

"So you can improve it," I said.

"It’s rare for a demon to surpass the original owner of an ability, especially one of such great magnitude as a ninth-level dragon. I will, however, have an eternity to try. Right now, I can recover from almost any nonmortal wounds in a few minutes."

"That’s as fast as Faber," I said.

Fyren chuckled. "Not quite, but perhaps, one day, I can match him."

I turned to look up at the massive wolf towering over us. His tail twitched slightly, generating a stiff breeze over the hillside. If Fyren could regenerate wounds in a few minutes, how strong was Fable? I dimly recalled him healing from the dragon’s attacks, but I’d had so many visions determining which memory was actually reliable was close to impossible.

"What about the curse tornado?" Elise asked, "How did you survive the at? I know your eighth level, but you took it head-on."

Fyren favored her with a smile. "I wished to see the defensive powers of the blade Elaine gifted me. I was not disappointed."

"You mean it has an enchantment to protect you from a seventh-level spell?" R’lissea asked.

"No, that’s not it," I said. "It doesn’t have any protective enchantments, except to keep the blade from being damaged."

"A sharp eye, Xiviyah. It functions more like your staff, using my mana to project a protective field instead of creating one with its own runes."

"A weapon that scales with the power of the wielder," R’lissea said. "No wonder you received it so graciously."

Fyren frowned at her. "And what is that supposed to mean? Am I not always gracious?"

R’lissea stared at the ground. "Um...with Xiv, maybe."

"Yeah, that’s true. You just glare at most people. Or threaten to kill them," Elise muttered.

Fyren’s frown expanded to include them both. I smiled slightly, letting the last of the tension drain from my shoulders.

"What of the demon? Where did it come from?" I asked.

Fyren’s frown disappeared. "A good question. I have a few guesses, but let us reach the Devoted before speculating. They might have more answers for us."

I jumped, whirling to stare at the gate. My tail flicked anxiously.

"It hasn’t opened yet, has it?" I asked.

Fyren said, "Not yet, but I sense it’s soon."

As we climbed back onto Fable, Elise asked, "How can you tell?"

"Demon’s intuition. The infernal mana of a demon gate has a peculiar feeling as it nears breaking."

It didn’t take more than a minute for Fable to lope to the edge of the valley. A nervous shiver ran through the demons, each cowering away. Even the largest, four-armed monstrosity was dwarfed by Fable’s sheer presence.

It was drizzling in the valley, smelling heavy and earthy. The low growl of thunder rubbed against my ears, soft enough I never specifically noticed it, but ominous all the same.

As Fable started down the slope, my grip on his fur tightened. Scions retreated from our path, but a few evolved demons eyed R’lissea and me hungrily. Swallowing hard, I opened my mind to the infernal bond. My thoughts filled with internal whispers. It was a chaotic cacophony of feelings and impressions, with very few words, but they all centered around two core concepts. "Oracle," and "Inevitable One."

I didn’t understand the second title, but I’d heard enough to know it referred to Fable. Fyren had even called him that, once. I glanced at the fire demon, meaning to ask, but his eyes were narrowed, locked onto something on the other side of the horde.

I turned, following his gaze to where a humanoid woman waited for us, directly beneath the swirls of the fire gate. The four-armed evolved demon and another seventh-level tarantula-like demon with fur of crackling electricity flanked her, towering over her like mountains.

The spider’s beady yellow eyes locked onto me, causing my tail to curl. Its predatory gaze didn’t ring familiar, meaning it didn’t bear my mark. The hunger in its gaze was unmistakable.

Demons parted, allowing us a direct path to the woman. As Fable trotted through, they closed up behind but maintained a cautious distance. There were even more fear impressions for Fable than Fyren. Some of the scions collapsed the moment his golden eyes swept over them.

The woman folded her arms as we approached. She had the form and features of a female elf, with long, pointed ears and angled eyes. She was pristine and beautiful, lacking clothing or visible genitalia. Her skin was a light grayish-blue, like the sky after a storm. Faint wisps and patterns swirled across it like clouds. It was mildly breezy, but her long blue hair billowed behind her. Two ethereal appendages extended from her upper back, a pair of wings made from cloud and shimmering winds. They whispered as she moved, the sound caressing my ears like a summer breeze. Flickers of lightning lit her pale eyes from within, sharp and defined compared to the pastel colors of her body and wings.

Fable came to a stop twenty feet in front of her. Fyren leaped from his head, landing in a small crater.

"Lord of Ash. You’ve kept me waiting. I expected you to be there to greet me," she said in a voice like the quiet hush before the storm.

"Wanderer of Fallen Storms. An unexpected honor," Fyren said.

To my surprise, he actually bowed to the demon. He hadn’t even shown that kind of respect to the demon Lord of fire!

The woman’s mana reminded me of wind and water, yet held a strange, electrical sensation. It was similar to Grace’s aura, meaning...

"A storm demon," I said softly.

As if she could hear me, the demon’s eyes flitted over, fixing on my soul. I stiffened, feeling suddenly exposed, and her lip curled in a smile.

"Greetings, Oracle. I’ve heard much about you," she said.

I took a deep breath and urged Fable down. He sank to the ground, and R’lissea took my hand, helping me off the titanic wolf. I was a little unsteady on my feet, having been riding all day, but quickly found my bearings.

"My name is Zephyriss, avatar of the Wanderer of Fallen Storms."

An avatar? Like, a demon lord’s avatar?

"M-my lady," I said in a trembling voice, dropping a swift curtsy.

The demon lord frowned, glancing at Fyren. "I was expecting something...more."

Fyren placed a hand on my shoulder, pulling me to my feet. His hand was massive on my slender frame, covering my entire shoulder, but he kept it there, gripping me firmly.

"Xiviyah’s more timid than the heroes you’re used to, but don’t underestimate her. There’s a reason we’ve placed our hope in her."

Zephyriss eyed me again, her frown deepening. "Is that right? She does have a most tantalizing soul, and...an aura?"

She fell back a step, the air stirring to reflect her surprise.

"Yes, it manifested only recently."

"But how? Her soul is only in the early stages of the eighth level."

Fyren shrugged. "She claims to have no knowledge of it. It would be best if you didn’t press the issue."

Zephyriss nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving me.

"I’ll admit there’s more to her than meets the eye, but I’m doubtful of her abilities. Do you truly vouch for her?"

"I do." fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

Fyren’s low rumble was accompanied by a squeeze on my shoulder.

"Very well. It’s not as if there’s any other choice," she muttered. Then, striding forward and lowering her head, declared, "I, Zephyriss, Wanderer of Fallen Storm, pledge my loyalty to the Oracle of Eternity. May you guide us to skies unvisited by the winds, and seas untroubled by waves."

She waited, head bowed, right in front of me. I looked helplessly at Fyren, who sighed. His hand slid down my arm, taking me by the wrist. He guided my hand to her head. I shivered at the cool, wispy feel of her hair. Her scalp felt...insubstantial, like a push from a brisk gust of wind.

"Do as you did before," he whispered.

I took a deep breath, my hand trapped by his grip on her head. Nothing about this felt right, from a demon Lord bowing to me to what her cryptic words meant. I couldn’t even manage the few thousand demons marked already. How could I possibly take on numbers almost twice what I had before the battle of Tormod’s Breach?

I gritted my teeth and mustered my mana, triggering the infernal bond. My mana departed in a veritable storm, flowing directly into her infernal soul. She was only at the peak of the seventh level, not even as strong as Fyren, but there was something deep and fathomless about her soul. It reminded me of when I hung above the chasm in Vithrass’s lair, staring into the inky blackness below.

My body grew weak as my mana continued to empty into her. The torment divided into thousands of tiny ribbons, shooting through her own infernal mark and binding me to the demons already under her command.

Ten thousand. I had just accepted another ten thousand demons into my horde.