Chapter 1261: No Rest for the Weary

The library was far busier than when we left. Fatesworn hurried between the shelves, carrying messages and bundles of supplies, while a dozen soldiers gathered around a large table covered in maps. Several reading alcoves had been converted into makeshift infirmaries, and the smell of blood and healing magic mingled with the familiar scent of parchment.

"Lady Xiviyah!"

Thron emerged from behind a stack of books, his robes slightly disheveled. His eyes widened as he spotted the others, lingering on Luke.

"It’s done?" he asked, sounding smaller than I’d ever heard him sound before.

I nodded somberly, and he let out a breath.

"I see. Then the Divine Throne has fallen. Congratulations on your victory, apostle."

Luke glanced at him, his lips twitching. "I did what needed to be done."

"So it seems, but honestly, I’m a little disappointed. I thought the world might have ended by now if that were the case." His gaze wandered over Korra’s bloodstained armor and Fable’s battered fur. "Gods, you all look dreadful. Sit down, sit down. But do try not to stain the seats. It’s hard to get out even with magic."

"Finally," Korra muttered, plopping down on a plush armchair. "I’m beginning to see why Xiv’s always catching a nap after fighting those kinds of opponents."

"Hey now, leave room for me," Gayron said. She looked at him with a daring look, but he just grinned, picked her up in a princess carry, ignored her protests, and set her down in her seat. She squirmed in his lap like a cat getting comfortable before finally stopping her muttering and settling.

"I could go with a few days of sleep myself," R’lissea said with a yawn, finding a couch on the edge of the alcove. Grace sat beside her, sinking back, her eyes closing almost immediately.

My hands twitched, but I clenched my skirt, fighting the urge to join them.

"No rest for the weary," Luke murmured, resting a firm hand on my shoulder.

My shoulders slumped, but I let him guide me over toward the map table without pouting too much. I cast a longing look back at Korra and Gayron, and my tail twitched. Would it really be so wrong to rest for a little?

Bethiv and several officers I didn’t recognize, including both demons and elves, surrounded the war map. They had a small projection of the Divine Throne’s city-like infrastructure, with all its slender towers and curtain-like walls. Miniature battles and spells raged across the compartmentalized courtyards. Smoke billowed away at the fringes of the illusion, giving it a ragged, chaotic look.

"My Lady, Lord Apostle," Bethiv greeted us with a brief dip of his head. His forehead was lined with weariness, but his eyes remained sharp.

"How goes the battle?" Luke asked.

The commander raised an eyebrow. "Has your horde not kept you informed.

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. "You know as well as I do that our communication lines are blurred at best. My army is divided among the other apostles, and while they can soulspeak with their hordes, I’m afraid no central demon organizes information. Honestly, I doubt there’s ever been an army with as quick, clean communication as the Fatesworn."

"True," Bethiv murmured, looking back down at the map. "I would have killed for something like this in the days of the Last Light Company. To sum it up, however, we’re winning. It’s not pretty, but the battle’s crested its zenith, and I’m confident we’ll come out on top."

"I’m glad you’re safe," I whispered, letting go of Luke just long enough to hug the commander.

Bethiv laughed softly and returned the hug. "I ought to be saying that to you. I can hardly believe you actually took the World Shard so quickly. It wasn’t even a day’s worth of fighting."

"I doubt we would have lasted that long," I murmured.

He cleared his throat. "Well, we’ve secured the main complex. The cathedral, central spires, administrative quarters, and most of the inner defenses are ours. The remaining defenders have fallen back toward the outer courtyards and barracks, where they’re still putting up considerable resistance."

"And Roann?"

"Contested. Several districts have surrendered, but others are fighting from fortified positions. The demon lords are leading the advance alongside the Fatesworn, though coordinating them has been difficult."

Jasrin, watching from the corner, gave a humorless chuckle. "That’s one way of putting it."

I looked down at the map and reached through the Primordial Mark.

The familiar warmth of my stars answered immediately. Millions of connections stretched outward, linking my soul to the Fatesworn scattered throughout Radia and the surrounding plains. With a thought, I followed one of them, slipping into the senses of a demon fighting near the eastern barracks.

The scene that greeted me was terrible.

The courtyard had become a field of corpses. Hundreds of soldiers lay scattered across the broken paving stones, their armor twisted by magic and their bodies burned beyond recognition. A company of Fatesworn pressed forward behind a wall of shields, battling the last defenders near the gate.

Beyond them, an enormous infernal beast tore through a formation of church soldiers. Its claws scattered men and horses alike, while demons swarmed through the gap in its wake.

I shifted my attention to another star.

A street in Radia. Buildings burned on either side, and a group of civilians huddled against a wall while Fatesworn struggled to hold back several demons from the Infernal Horde. One of the infernals had a surrendered soldier pinned beneath his foot. Another was dragging a prisoner toward the flames, laughing as the man begged for mercy.

My stomach tightened.

I withdrew, only to find another scene awaiting me. A column of church soldiers had abandoned their banners and fled into the plains, pursued by winged demons. The chase ended in a slaughter, their pleas for surrender ignored as the infernals cut them down.

Thousands of such battles played out across the city and surrounding lands.

"Xiviyah?" Bethiv asked gently.

I blinked, returning my attention to the library.

"How many?" I whispered.

Her expression grew somber.

"We don’t have an accurate count. Tens of thousands at the very least, perhaps hundreds of thousands. The Divine Throne gathered an enormous army to defend itself, and many of its soldiers have refused to surrender."

"And our losses?"

"Substantial, though far less than theirs. Your protection has made an extraordinary difference. We’ve managed to save many who would otherwise have died, but we’ve still lost hundreds."

I lowered my gaze.

I’d felt their deaths through the Primordial Mark, little flickers of light vanishing amid the countless stars. There had been so many that I’d barely noticed them during the battle.

"I’m sorry," I murmured.

Bethiv shook her head. "They knew what they were fighting for, my Lady. And what they were willing to die for."

Perhaps. But that didn’t make the empty places among my stars any easier to bear.

Jasrin leaned forward and placed a hand on the map.

"The greater problem is what happens next. The Divine Throne has fallen, but its army hasn’t. Entire companies are scattering into the countryside. Some will regroup under surviving commanders, while others will turn to brigandry. There are enough trained soldiers fleeing into the plains to trouble this region for years."

"But this is their home!" I protested.

The officers all exchanged uneasy looks. No one spoke to address that.

"And the Infernal Horde?" Luke asked after a moment’s pause.

Bethiv hesitated.

"The apostles and demon lords have maintained relative order, but as the fighting fragments, so too will their control. Demons follow their masters, after all."

I’d seen what the Infernal Horde could do, and many of the demons serving Luke had spent eternity conquering and destroying worlds. They delighted in slaughter, and too often, the killing didn’t stop when the fighting ended.

"Luke..." I whispered.

"I know." He handed the parchment back to Bethiv. He touched his chest, and I felt a pulse of mana leave his soul. "I’ve informed the others of our victory. With any luck, we’ll keep collateral damage to a minimum, though I’m afraid it’s not my highest priority."

I studied the map again, tracing the roads leading out of Radia. Refugees were already fleeing the city, and the surrounding villages would soon be overwhelmed by soldiers and civilians alike. Many wore nothing but ragged clothing. Slaves, now freed of their slave crest and heart crests, and yet no safer for it.

"What about them?" I asked, gesturing.

"We’ve begun the process of emancipation, but there are thousands within the Divine Throne alone, and considerably more throughout Radia. There’s no standing formation or enchantment supporting the heart crests, and our mages are working on the slave crests as they can."

Jasrin nodded. "The remnants have been assisting with their removal. It’s delicate work, particularly where the crests have been embedded for years."

I shivered, touching my chest. "Are they all right?"

"Some are," Bethiv answered. "Others refuse to believe they’re free, or have nowhere to go. We’ve established shelters in the lower quarters, but we’ve little resources to spare on them. That’ll come after the war, and not from our pockets, I think."

"Please make that a priority. And the surrendering soldiers, too. I don’t want anyone killed just because they fought for their homes."

"If there are any of those," Jasrin observed.

"I know," I admitted. "But... they’ve lost. Surely they can see that."

Luke regarded me for a moment before turning back toward the map.

Bethiv began marking locations upon the map, assigning messengers to carry out the new orders. I listened as she and Jazeren discussed supply routes, patrols, and the difficulties of holding a city that was still an active battlefield.

There was so much to do. I’d imagined that defeating the Pope and taking the World Shard would bring an end to the fighting. And in a sense, it had. The church could no longer threaten Enusia as it once had.

But the war hadn’t ended merely because its leaders were dead.

I could still feel the fighting through the Primordial Mark, the desperate struggles of soldiers who hadn’t heard of the Pope’s death, the frightened civilians hiding in their homes, and the demons who saw the fall of the Divine Throne as an invitation to indulge their worst impulses.

"Lady Xiviyah?"

I looked up. Bethiv was watching me with concern.

"Are you all right?"

"Y-yes. Just... tired, I think."

"Then perhaps you should get some rest. We’ll have a more complete report once the outer defenses fall."

"But there’s still so much—"

"And it will still be here when you’ve rested," Luke interrupted. "You’ve done more than enough for one day."

I hesitated, glancing toward the maps. There were decisions to make, orders to give, and countless people depending on us. But they were right. The weight on my soul was exhausting, and Enusian’s inheritance wasn’t getting any lighter.

"All right," I murmured. "But please let me know if anything important happens."

"Of course."

I thanked her, then turned toward the others. Korra seemed to be already asleep. Fable lay curled in an alcove, filling it entirely. Borealis perched on one of his horns, preening.

"Xiviyah," Luke said hesitantly, gripping my hand. "Before you go, there’s something we should discuss."

I looked up at him, noticing how his gaze lingered on the distant Archives, toward the World Shard.

My tail curled uneasily. "About... what happens next?"

"About the World Shard."