The Forsaken Hero

"You’re sorry?" I echoed duly. The word reverberated through my mind, swirling faster and faster until it plunged into my soul, igniting a spark of white-hot fury. Words bubbled up in my chest, breaking past my natural timid restraint and erupting through my lips. "Sorry? What are you sorry for? For letting Korra die? For allowing the inquisitors to defile her with their filthy hands? Korra, who called you a beloved friend to the very end...you’re just going to abandon her?"

At the end of my outburst, I found myself standing, my chair cast out behind me. My tail lashed violently at my feet and my hands gripped the edge of the table hard. Levin stared at me, open-mouthed, his face pale.

"I-it’s not like that!" he protested, growing a little heated himself. "I told you already. There’s nothing I can do! So don’t act all self-righteous and lay your own sins and weakness at my feet. If it weren’t for you, she never would have run away. She never would have been hurt. It’s your fault she’s dying, that the inquisitors have her. Don’t lay your sins at my feet, filthblood."

He spat the slur like a curse, glaring at me across the table. Wisps of power, solid as the earth, emanated from his soul, griped the room with unbearable pressure.

Every breath came hard and labored, and I stumbled back a step, my weakness returning. His words bit into me like poisoned barbs, and with a shuddering breath, I collapsed back into the chair. Despair and self-loathing pooled in my chest, and the flickering flames of my indignation sputtered and died, plunging me into bitter darkness.

"Was it all a lie?" I asked. My eyes glistened wetly with tears, shed and unshed. "You said you owed her, that you wanted to help. Why are you abandoning her now?"

He shifted in his seat, something close to guilt flashing through his eyes. "I...didn’t mean to. I do owe her, but this is just...different. I didn’t believe you could heal me, but now that I’m restored, it’s risking too much for nothing. Simply being seen with you could be damning, much less attacking church sanctioned inquisitors. Right now, it’s a lot more important that I find R’lissea and get my body healed. My soul’s around the peak of sixth level right now, but I have a feeling that if I can get this corruption–" he rubbed the scars on his hands "–I’ll be able to reach my full strength again. Until then, even if my soul’s capable, I doubt I could handle more than a fifth-level magical technique."

I stared at him, the tip of my tail beginning to lash once more. "You’re just like them. The pope, Soltair, Alex...Korra said you were better, but she was wrong. You lied to me and are now choosing to abandon her, all so you can get what you want. Is that what it means to be a hero? Perhaps that’s the real reason Korra chose to leave. She couldn’t stand being compared to people like you. People who lie and manipulate just to accomplish their own selfish gains. The kind of people who hurt me."

Levin frowned as I broke off in a sob, his hands tightening into fists. "Why are we still having this conversation? As sad as it is, there’s nothing I can do for Korra. She’s going to die. I’ll mourn her, but right now, the most important thing is driving the demons back from Brithlite. Victor is out on the front lines fighting, but he can’t do it alone. There are too many strong demons, and their allies are no slouches either. There are always casualties in war, but we can’t linger on them. We have to continue fighting and ensure their sacrifices aren’t in vain."