Chapter 1256: A Promise to Keep

"Where... is this?" Luke asked slowly, looking around the ruined courtyard. His eyes were foggy with memories from the shattered reality I’d drawn him from.

He looked down at himself, touching his chest where the false Soltair’s sword had left a ribbon of Sunpurge. His black tunic wasn’t even damaged. His tail moved restlessly as he pressed a hand to his horn.

"Xiviyah...? Are you here?" he called.

I bit my lip, resisting the urge to fly to him. Across the courtyard, Soltair was struggling with his own identity. He tried several times to summon his power, his face paling when it didn’t answer.

"Luxara?" he raised his voice, looking around.

He and Luke saw each other at the same time.

"Where am I?" Luke demanded, drawing his sword. It looked like the blade he’d taken from the Arbiter, with all its familiar weight and balance, but devoid of any real magic. "Where is she?"

Soltair tensed, his expression hardening. "You. Apostle of Curses. Just what foul trickery is this?"

The Sun Hero drew his own sword, identical to the holy blade he wielded, yet no different from any other weapon. When they advanced toward each other, circling slowly, neither moved with supernatural speed or strength. They had only what their training had given them.

As they studied one another, the confusion gradually wore off.

"That wasn’t real?" Luke murmured, breathing a sigh of relief. "Then she’s safe."

"A false world? So everything before was just a deception?" Soltair growled. "And this one? Did you think taking away my power would give you an advantage? It was only the infernal strength you’ve pillaged from Enusia that gave you the upper hand. If we stand as equals, how can you expect darkness to vanquish the light?"

Luke glanced at his sword, testing its balance with a small movement of his wrist.

"Come find out."

Soltair lunged.

Their swords met with a sharp clang, an almost pitiful sound compared to the cataclysmic clashes they’d exchanged in the Archives. Soltair pressed forward, delivering a series of quick, precise strikes. Luke turned them aside, retreating across the uneven stones as he adjusted to the unfamiliar limitations of his body.

Neither was particularly quick, but their swordsmanship was exceptional. Every movement was calculated, every opening tested and exploited. Soltair was the more aggressive, his sword flashing in graceful arcs, while Luke kept his guard close, conserving his strength.

A strike slipped past Luke’s defenses, carving a shallow gash across his forearm. He retreated, glancing at the blood welling from the wound.

Soltair smiled. "Not so invincible now, are you?"

Luke flexed his fingers, adjusting his grip. The wound continued bleeding, without the slightest sign of regeneration.

He advanced again, catching Soltair’s sword and stepping inside his guard. His shoulder slammed into the Sun Hero’s chest, throwing him off balance, and Luke swept his blade toward his throat.

Soltair ducked, retaliating with a slash that opened Luke’s tunic beneath his ribs. Luke hissed, twisting away before the blade could sink deeper.

They separated, breathing heavily. It had been less than a minute, yet both were bleeding.

"Not accustomed to fighting without your curses?" Soltair asked.

Luke didn’t answer, his eyes following the Sun Hero’s sword.

"Of course not. You demons have always relied upon stolen power. Without it, you’re little more than beasts."

Steel rang against steel as they fought across the courtyard. Soltair forced Luke toward a fallen pillar, limiting his room to maneuver. Luke blocked two strikes, but the third caught his thigh, cutting deep into the muscle.

He stumbled, his leg nearly giving out beneath him.

Soltair brought his sword down in a powerful overhead strike. Luke caught it, their blades locking together a few inches from his face. The force drove him to one knee, and Soltair leaned into the attack, his arms trembling with effort.

"Yield," he growled.

Luke twisted his blade, letting Soltair’s sword slide aside before driving his fist into the Sun Hero’s jaw.

There was a dull crack. Soltair staggered, blood spilling from his mouth, and Luke struck him again with the pommel of his sword.

Soltair fell backward among the rubble. Luke tried to follow, but his injured leg faltered, forcing him to catch himself against the pillar.

For a moment, neither could do more than breathe.

Soltair wiped his mouth, staring at the blood on his fingers. His jaw was swelling, and he winced as he forced himself upright.

"Tell me something, Apostle," he said, raising his sword. "What have you done with her?"

Luke’s eyes narrowed.

"Xiviyah?"

"Don’t pretend you don’t understand. I know what you are. How did you break her? How did you get her to follow you even without chains?"

"She follows me because she wants to."

Soltair scoffed. "A slave doesn’t know what she wants. That’s why she needs commands. She taught me that herself."

Luke regarded him for a moment, his expression growing cold.

"She’s not your slave anymore."

"She was a slave when I found her. I rescued her, fed her, and gave her a purpose. And what did she do? Betrayed the church, me, and everything that is right."

Luke shifted his stance, putting less weight on his wounded leg. "You know nothing about Xiviyah, only as she was."

"And you think ’loving’ her absolves you of your crimes?"

Luke let out a short, bitter laugh, and advanced. His sword swept toward Soltair’s shoulder. Soltair caught the blade on his crossguard, twisted, and drove his knee into Luke’s injured thigh. Luke cried out, nearly collapsing, and Soltair seized him by the collar, slamming him against the pillar.

The impact drove the breath from his lungs. Soltair raised his sword, but Luke caught his wrist, twisting it outward. They struggled against the stone, their arms shaking as Soltair tried to force the blade down.

"You’ll never understand," Soltair hissed. "I am the Sun Hero. I was chosen to defend this world!"

Luke wrenched his wrist aside, forcing the sword point against the pillar. Stone chips flew out, pelting their faces.

"And yet here you are."

Soltair snarled, driving his forehead into Luke’s face. Luke jerked his head aside, catching the blow on his shoulder. The blow crushed him against the pillar, but gave him a chance to drive his knee into Soltair’s stomach.

The hero gasped, and Luke twisted, striking him in the side. There was a sharp crack and Soltair abruptly released him, stumbling back, clutching his ribs.

Luke fell to one knee, finding his sword and propping himself up before taking a proper stance. Blood streaked his forearm, running between his fingers.

"Damn you," Soltair growled, straightening into his stance, only to wince and hunch his shoulders again. He favored his side as they circled each other again, bloody and battered.

Luke struck first this time, slashing from the right. Soltair parried it, but Luke’s sword ended up close to him. The apostle stabbed forward, aiming directly at his wounded side. Soltair threw himself out of the way, but not fast enough. The tip cut beneath his armored plate, leaving a long, thin cut on his under arm.

They exchanged several more moves. I held my skirt tightly, my tail lashing with fear. Every time one of their swords drew blood, I winced, but was unable to look away. The urge to break in and heal Luke was almost overpowering, but I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms.

After several minutes of fighting, they finally separated, both breathing heavily. Soltair was limping from where Luke’s sword had clipped his thigh. The tip of his sword shook much more than Luke’s.

"How?" Soltair gasped, his face white with pain. He clutched his side, and swore. "How can you still fight like this? The pain..."

"Pain?" Luke laughed hollowly. It caused him to wince, and he spat a glob of blood. "Some things are just worth hurting for."

Luke raised his sword, and Soltair gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand. They’d been fighting for what felt like forever now, and when Luke attacked, it was noticeably slower than before. But his blade never wavered, easily knocking Soltair’s aside. Not enough to give him a decisive blow, but he forced the hero back with every step.

Until he slipped. It was a patch of his own blood, shed some minutes before. He stumbled once, quickly regaining his balance, but the gap was enough. Soltair lunged forward, his blade sinking an inch into Luke’s chest.

Luke gasped, his eyes widening. It had caught on his ribs, Soltair not quite having the strength to drive it into his heart, but he fell back. Soltair jumped on the chance, leveraging his weight, driving it deeper. Blood ran from the wound, darkening his tunic.

Soltair’s expression brightened with triumph as he drove Luke to his knees. "At last. Die as you lived, filthblood. Weak and pathetic."

Luke coughed a mouthful of blood, and grasped the sword blade, not caring that it sliced into his palm. He forced himself to his feet. The movement drove the sword deeper into his side, but brought him close enough to seize Soltair by the throat. Soltair’s eyes bulged as he instinctively fell back, his sword falling, forgotten. Luke held him a moment, blood pulsing from his wounds, before his grip on his sword tightened.

The hero choked and kicked, drawing blood.

Luke stabbed forward, and Soltair stiffened, shuddering. His face twisted in disbelief as naked steel pierced his abdomen. Luke wrenched the blade free, and the Sun Hero stumbled backward, clutching at the wound.

He fell to one knee, blood pouring between his fingers.

Luke staggered away, catching himself against the cathedral steps. His face had gone pale, and his breathing was ragged. He tore a strip from his cloak, binding his worst wounds.

Soltair struggled to rise, but fell to one knee, tears leaking down his cheeks.

"No," he gasped. "No, this isn’t..."

He looked toward the ruined cathedral, as though expecting something to answer him.

"Sun...?"

Nothing happened.

Luke took a few shallow breaths, swaying unsteadily.

"How?" Soltair whispered, staring at him. "I am the hero. You are..."

He coughed, blood spilling down his chin.

Luke slowly straightened, his sword hanging at his side.

"You keep saying that."

Soltair’s expression twisted. With enormous effort, he reached for his fallen sword and pushed himself upright. His legs trembled, blood still pouring from his abdomen, but he managed to raise the weapon.

"I won’t... give up. I’ll kill you!."

Luke approached, his wounded leg dragging slightly behind him.

"I made a promise," Luke said quietly. "And I intend to keep it."

Soltair swung, but his blade passed wide. Luke caught his wrist and drove his sword forward, piercing the Sun Hero’s chest.

Soltair gasped, his weapon falling from nerveless fingers. Luke held him there a moment before withdrawing the blade.

The Sun Hero collapsed against the broken cathedral steps, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. He tried to speak, but only a faint rasp escaped him.

Luke stood over him, breathing heavily, blood running freely down his side.

Soltair’s chest rose once more, then slowly fell.

Luke watched him for a moment before lowering his sword. He leaned against the steps, pressing his hand against the wound beneath his ribs.

"Xiviyah," he murmured, his voice scarcely audible. "Where are you? Please, be safe..."

He collapsed. Before he hit the ground, I was there, catching him in my arms. He was heavy, so heavy, and soaked in blood. As I cradled his head to my chest, silently crying, the world began to fade.

His eyes fluttered. "Xiviyah...?"

"Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here," I whispered, touching his cheek. "And Luke? Your promise...? I...I believe you."