The Forsaken Hero

The demon bore only the faintest resemblance to its human host. Its towering, thirty-foot-tall form consisted of writhing shadows bound together by encircling runes and scattered shards of dark steel. Three-foot-long claws protruded from its many fingers, with an extra arm sprouting above its left shoulder. Most chilling of all was its face, which was entirely featureless.

Initially, it appeared unharmed by Soltair’s attack, but my eyes quickly fixed on the crystallized sunlight cresting over its right shoulder, running down its back. The Sunpurge floated on the surface of the amorphous shadow, in the same place where the third arm protruded from its other side.

"What in the name of the gods is that?" Trithe whispered, shivering as the blank surface of its featureless face turned towards us.

"Some sort of demon?" Soltair pondered, "But it’s unlike the others. Perhaps a new type?"

I expected the demon to roar or speak with the same vile voice as before, but it remained completely silent. We all tensed as it raised its three arms, and its soul surged with power. I barely caught sight of an internal sixth-circle spell before it vanished, and thirty magic circles materialized on the ground around it.

Inky blackness poured inward from the runes, condensing into points at the center of each circle. As the magic circles disappeared, the points levitated into the air, hovering several feet above the ground.

"Summoning magic!" I exclaimed, finding the runes similar to when Korra summoned her water dragon.

"Quick, stop it!" Fyren shouted, preparing to dash forward.

But we were too late. With a series of crackling pops, the points expanded, swelling to form a small legion of demons. These were much smaller than the first, more akin to the fodder we fought at the gate, but they seemed elementally aligned with shadow rather than fire. Their scales oozed an oily darkness, spreading a noxious taint wherever they stepped.