The Forsaken Hero

I gazed at the girl, blinking slowly in the dim light of the crystal. Her vibrant green eyes and dark hair struck a chord deep within me, feeling strangely familiar. Moisture welled up in my eyes, and soon, tears trickled down my cheeks. Then it hit me. Korra. "X-Xiviyah?" she stammered, gasping as I threw my arms around her.

After a moment of hesitation, she returned my embrace, her arms gently encircling my frail shoulders, her fingers soothingly stroking my long, crimson hair. Sobs wracked my body, wave after wave, as I wept into her shoulder. All the pain, darkness, and anguish I’d kept bottled up poured out of me, a torrent so intense that I barely noticed the awkwardness with which she held me.

Finally, she laid her hands on my shoulders and drew me away, staring at me deeply. Her familiar face was tinged with unease, and I felt a heavy lump forming in my chest.

"Xiviyah...Did you...did you really..." she said, pausing as though not knowing how to continue. After a few seconds, she took a deep breath and looked at me directly, any hint of hesitation gone. "I heard everything, and I have to know. Is it true what they said in the trial? About the Western University?"

I froze, a shiver running down my spine and out to the tip of my tail. Her gaze was sincere, but for the first time, I noticed a hint of wariness hidden within her expression. It was subtle, just a slight tightening around her eyes, but it shook me to my core. She sighed heavily as I hesitated, seeming to withdraw even further. The slave crest buzzed, lighting up with a faint glow, forcing the words from my lips. "Y-yes," I stammered, bowing my head. She was silent for a moment, but her hands tightened on my shoulders, betraying her inner turmoil. My tail curled anxiously, but I felt rooted to the spot, unable to even breathe. "Korra?" I asked tentatively. She flinched at her name, or perhaps it was the sound of my voice, and stepped back, rising to her feet. "But how could you...?" she trailed off, rubbing her temples. "No, it doesn’t matter. I-I just need to think." My heart sank, and I lowered my head, closing my eyes. Her footsteps echoed in the small, dimly lit room, followed by the sharp click of the door shutting. She was gone, taking the warmth and light she’d brought with her. I slumped back onto the floor, hands clasped loosely in my lap. My injuries were gone, and I was dressed in a simple slave gown. But who could have...? I raised my head, glancing at the door, and a new wave of sorrow washed over me. There was no justifying it, no escaping the truth. I had chosen to save Elise, and in doing so, I had condemned thousands of innocent lives. Even without my intervention, Soltair would have defeated the demon, minimizing the casualties. Fate had known, had even told Elise I would save her. Why had she done that? Was this the path she wanted for me? She’d set me up, then abandoned me to this agonizing guilt! I knew I was being unfair, but for the first time in months, I clenched my small fists in frustration. However, as I recalled the final, sorrowful glimmer in Korra’s gaze, the anger faded, replaced by a dull bleakness. What did it even matter anymore? What was done was done, and now Korra hated me. That last part stung more than I wanted to admit. Had she known someone who had died in the battle? Or was she simply disappointed by my perceived betrayal?

Time crawled by, but eventually, I managed to pull myself up, using the edge of the stiff, straw mattress for support. The strange, new type of slave crest, designed to restrict my soul, had been loosened slightly, allowing me to access a fraction of my power, about third level. It wasn’t much, especially compared to my previous strength, but it was the only comfort I had in this bleak situation.

After casting a few Life Magic spells, healing the constant ache pervading my muscles, I collapsed on the bed and closed my eyes. Judging by the situation, I’d slept for an entire day at the very least before, but my body felt as though I hadn’t even closed my eyes. My stomach rumbled, twisting painfully, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in perhaps a week. Nothing was stopping me from leaving and finding the slave kitchen, they served all hours of the day, but I couldn’t find the strength.

Another day crawled by, leaving me trapped in my unchanging cell. I spent most of it in restless slumber, only to awake and stare at the cold stone walls. The soft, steady glow of the crystal was my sole marker of time, dimming at night and flickering with each passing hour. This was perhaps my just reward: hunger, isolation, and darkness.

Hours into the second day following the Inquisition, the door opened. My pointed ears twitched at the sound, but I made no move to turn and look. It didn’t matter who it was; they were only here to hurt me.