Chapter 1218: Scarred City

The power of a god. I mused on the remnant’s words as I sat on Fable’s back, my hands folded in my lap. I had seen many gods, and all of them existed as forces of nature. As well destroy an entire realm in an attempt to kill a god and plunder their power.

The wind picked up, carrying the bite of winter through my wards. I shivered, drawing my cloak a little closer. Everything had moved so quickly once the decision was made, and the hordes marched to war. Already, we were waiting on a small hillock overlooking the outskirts of Roann, not far from the place we had attacked just weeks before. The Infernal horde spread across the horizon like a plague, darkening the crisp white layer of frozen prairie with their numbers.

Somewhere among them was Luke. I touched my lips, still feeling his warmth pressed upon them. A small, anxious thrill went through me, and my tail curled in my lap.

"Oh, stop worrying," said Korra, drifting in the air beside us. "He’s going to be fine. Soltair might be strong, but so is Luke."

"You shared your magic with him, didn’t you?" asked R’lissea.

"Yes, but...what if it’s not enough? I can’t protect him from Soltair’s strongest magic," I said.

"Then you’d better break through quickly. We’re all counting on it," Korra said.

The plan was simple. Almost too simple, for how much rested on it. The demons engage the army, and we take the city. The same plan laid out in the meeting, but now that we were here, waiting for the right moment to strike, my stomach was tied in knots.

"Are you sure you’re going to be alright?" I asked Korra.

She nodded, smiling at Gayron. "We’ll take out that shard before you know it."

"Easy," he agreed. "And once we do, their armies will collapse. Just how many do you think they’ve conscripted through the heart crest? Ten thousand/ Twenty?"

"Probably closer to fifty," Grace said.

Verity spoke suddenly. "More. At least a hundred thousand. And the arbiters. The church has been preparing for this moment for years. They’ll call as many as they can in defense of this world."

"Good. The more the merrier," Korra said.

"Do not grow arrogant, hero," Fyren warned. Of all the Fatesworn, only he and Borealis remained outside of Haven. The rest were locked away, waiting until we breached the line to be unleashed.

"Yeah, yeah, but you can’t say you’re not excited. We’ve been waiting for this for so long. I can’t wait to smash some divine faces in," Korra said, cracking her knuckles.

Grace nodded emphatically. "That bastard pope had better look out. I won’t rest till I’ve pierced his heart with a thousand lightning bolts."

"Whoa, looks like your warning was a little misplaced," Korra said, laughing.

"All of you. Be careful. This will be a battle unlike any you have fought before," Fyren said, giving them both a sharp look.

We waited a few more tense minutes, watching anxiously as the demons marched into position. I summoned my staff and dismissed it again, feeling the urge to pace but unable to on Fable’s back.

It started to snow. Thick, wet flakes spun from the sky, streaked with ash and dust gathered on the way down. Luke had waited until the sun was close to setting before ordering the horde to close on the capital, and now, it hovered just above the mountains seated behind the Divine Throne.

The Enusian armies were gathered under a single united banner around the walls of Roann, numbering almost a million strong. I’d never seen so many mortal souls in one place before. They were like the demons, only a shining silver carpet instead of a black. Mana thickened the air above, causing it to shimmer tantalizingly. The front lines bristled with spears and were shielded by temporary fortifications. A few mana cannons had been erected in wooden towers, swiveled to face the oncoming horde.

"It’s time," Fyren said suddenly, drawing his obsidian blade.

As if he’d given the command himself, the horde surged forward. Tall, lanky blade demons broke out before the scrambling scions, crossing the final miles between the two armies at breakneck pace. Mana cannons erupted at maximum range, and explosions blossomed in the gathering gloom. Several seconds later, the distant booms reached us, stirring my hair and clothes.

A minute later, the first demons reached the human line. Spells erupted across both sides, opening gaping holes in the ranks. Demons and humans stumbled into the crater and over debris, throwing themselves at each other with reckless abandon. Screams wafted between explosions and infernal shrieks, filled with pain and horror.

"Now? Should we go?" Grace asked.

I shook my head. "We wait for Soltair. We have to keep him away from the Fate God."

That was key to our strategy. The God of Fate had to be alone without support from any of his allies. It would be all I could manage to handle him by himself, never mind with another eighth- or ninth-level being at his back.

Another minute, and the battle had spread for a mile in either direction of that first clash. Colorful lights flashed with every element of magic, devouring hundreds on both sides. Luke personally flew just over the center, letting his curses roam as they wilted. I didn’t really understand his aura anymore, and he kept it far away from me, but the tendrils of darkness seemed to have a mind of their own, seeking out and draining powerful souls, weakening them for when he finally came for their lives.

Barely five minutes after the fight started, Soltair made his move. Light flared across the horizon, blotting out the white towers of the Divine Throne. For a moment, it seemed as if the sun had turned into its course and risen from the west.

But the light moved across the sky much faster than any star. I shielded my eyes as the radiance passed within a mile of us, shivering as the air charged with sun mana. The demons on the battlefield shrank back and hissed, sizzling, blistering, and burning.

A dragon’s roar echoed across the heavens, drawing a line between the encroaching night and Soltair’s dawn. The light finally parted, and Luxaria descended with beating wings and shining scales. She opened her maw and unleashed a torrent of radiance. It devoured scores of demons in the blink of an eye, clearing a landing site amid the horde. A small flicker of glittering steel arced off her back, landing on the ground. Soltair, though too far away for me to make out, dominated the battlefield in an instant. His aura paralyzed nearby demons and inspired the mortal army, leading them into a spirited charge.

"He has a flair for the dramatic, doesn’t he," muttered Verity, materializing beside me. "I can’t believe I bought it once."

"We all did," Korra said. She glared at the distant sun hero. "You can’t blame yourself for believing something you need to be true."

"Gods, I want to fight that dragon," Grace said, licking her lips. "She was such a bratty child when Soltair wasn’t looking. Thought she could boss us all around."

"Luxaria is a child by her kind’s standards," Verity said.

I sighed, shaking my head. It always amazed me how quickly the conversation wandered with my friends. They knew this battle meant everything, didn’t they? Couldn’t they at least pretend to take it seriously?

"Xiviyah, we must move," Fyren said.

"But there’s no skyships yet," I protested. "And I haven’t seen a single arbiter."

"Be that as it may, if we linger here longer, the battle will roll over us, and we’ll be discovered."

I hesitated, my tail flicking anxiously, before I nodded. My instincts told me to wait, because the longer the battle went on, the more resources the church would pour into it, and the less they would have to face us. But Fyren knew that, so if he thought now was the time, I wasn’t going to argue.

"Luke just engaged," Korra said suddenly, pointing. I followed her gaze, letting out an unconscious breath as I found his soul burning like a little star. Black tendrils of curse mana flowed out of him like fog, combating Soltair’s light. They were a lot more even than last time they fought, and seeing the first shockwave rippling across the battlefield settled my nerves.

"Alright," I said, nodding at Fyren.

"You three, lead the way. Don’t engage anyone until Xiviyah confirms if they’re ninth-level or not," Fyren said to Korra, Grace, and Gayron.

"As if we can’t tell," Grace said under her breath. Not softly enough, as Fyren’s eyes narrowed a moment before he sheathed himself in white fire, flying into the air. Fable bounded off the ground, alighting on shimmering green wings that R’lissea had cast for him.

In no time at all, we had reached the outer wall of the city. Reserve units of Enusian soldiers scattered under our shadow, crying out in panic, but there was nothing they could do to impede our way. A few mana cannons lit up on the walls themselves, but by the time they aimed, we had flown past.

I took a long, deep breath as we passed over the walls. Neither the infernal horde nor Fatesworn had ever breached the walls, and yet, it was already destroyed. Rubble strewn everywhere. Entire blocks leveled. And, stretching across the entire city, was a line of inky blackness that even the stars of fate seemed to fear. Thousands of buildings and people just gone, erased as though from a scroll of parchment. The very fabric of existence was frayed here, forming one long dimensional tear.

My lips tightened, and my tail gave an agitated swish. All this caused by a single swing of a god’s sword. And somehow, I was supposed to fight that god.