CHAPTER 930: EARNED TRUST

"You should be proud of yourself," Fyren said, distancing himself from Luke. "Few have come as far as you have in these last few weeks. Almost, I think, I wouldn’t mind it being known that I trained you."

Luke tightened his grip on his sword, his focus never wavering. He moved slowly, feet flowing over each other in a graceful dance, never giving the demon an opening.

"But I think it’s time we end this," Fyren said, raising his sword vertically into the air.

I gasped, fingers curling into fists as the demon’s soul erupted with mana, whipping the air of the arena into a frenzy. Streams of molten fire twined around him, gathering on the edge of his sword. In the blink of an eye, his blade glowed with molten light, filled with so much mana the barriers flared, groaning beneath its weight. It happened too quickly, gathering from nothing to full power in the space of a single heartbeat.

But Luke’s instincts kicked in. With a flash of irritation, his own aura rose, black curses twisting into a shield. He’d expected this, it seemed. After the tail, none of Fyren’s surprise attacks had slipped through, and this would be no exception.

Fyren’s sword blurred, drawing a diagonal line through the air, but Luke was faster, bracing himself with a wide, steady stance. A fiery crescent leaped from the blade, halfway toward me before I realized his attack had come. For some reason, Korra tensed, stretching her hand toward me, her scream ringing in my ears.

Wait. Toward me?

The art flew wide of Luke, striking the barrier with the crash of deafening thunder.

But Fyren’s art wasn’t aimed at the apostle. In a flash, it landed on the runic barrier. The circles flickered, but they were primed to absorb even ninth-circle spells, and easily dispersed the–

The wards shattered, releasing shockwaves that rebounded across the towering mountain walls. I stared at them dumbly, struggling to comprehend the eighth-level technique that now filled the arena, bearing down on me with nothing to stop it. Korra reached for my hand, but she seemed to move in slow motion, too slow to save us.

A wave of heat crashed over us, distorting the air and scorching the ground to molten slag. I staggered against Korra, Adaptive Resistance flaring to the limit. I stared in horror at the descended inferno, barely feeling the blisters breaking out across my skin. I could scarcely handle the shockwave! There was no chance we would survive something like this!

"Luke," I whispered, voice lost in the roar. "Please..."

As if to answer my prayer, a dark silhouette parted the wall of fire, landing before us with enough force to crack the ground. Korra’s hand finally reached me, yanking me against her as the ground rocked, the fires colliding with a jagged violet shield that suddenly appeared around us.

Luke’s form vanished as his power began to waver, eroded by a strange, consuming force laced within Fyren’s mana. Chills crawled down my spine as cracks spiderwebbed across his magic. What was that power? It was eerily familiar, like a curse, yet never had I seen curses such as this!

Luke’s ragged scream rose above the fire, and he brought his sword down, releasing the last of his mana in a pulse of violet light. Fyren’s art broke around us, parted like a river around a stone.

The heat dissipated, Fyren’s mana vanishing like smoke in the wind. The ground cracked and popped as it retreated, glowing glassy red yet quickly cooling. Luke stood on trembling legs amid the fading flames, his sword driven point-first into the ground. He was blackened and bloody, wisps of smoke curling from his scorched cloak, and his soul dry and withered.

An eerie silence descended in the absence of the roaring fires. It felt heavy, a thick, suffocating blanket that was somehow worse than the roar. Around us, the remnants stood, solemn and unmoved. Fyren stood with his sword still outstretched, expressionless, even as I knew he could feel my terror bleeding into the mark. It gripped me, petrified in Korra’s grip.

Luke’s hands slipped from the hilt of his sword, leaving it quivering in the ground. He turned slowly, listing and staggering a step. His eyes were wide and glassy, wandering over me, passing right through my face before jerking back. They finally settled, focusing on me. A small relieved smile touched his lips, but it didn’t last long. With a groan, he crumpled, the light fading from his eyes.

Whatever fear held me vanished, and I broke from Korra’s embrace, running to his side. I caught him as he collapsed, his body searing to the touch. I sank to my knees, born down by his limp weight. My legs erupted in blisters as I knelt on the steaming ground, but I hardly felt them.

"Luke, speak to me...say something!"

A weak, choked cough broke through his cracked, blistered lips. The tears that had been gathering flowed in relief, and I quickly soul cast a life spell. His eyelids quivered as my magic flooded him, bathing him in green light, and his breathing immediately eased. I let out a choked sob, pouring mana into him until the last of his burns had faded away. When it was done, I cradled his head protectively in my lap.

"Why?" I cried, looking up at Fyren. "Why would you do that? You almost...almost..." I couldn’t finish, the tears blurring my vision.

Korra knelt beside me, laying a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Xiviyah..."

I shrugged her off, glaring at the fire demon. How could he do this? Why had he attacked me? What if Luke hadn’t gotten in the way? What if he had...died?

But Fyren didn’t answer, merely looking at me. There was nothing in our mark, not even a dribble of soul speak, only the anger and fear I threw at him. My tail lashed, and I raised my head, scowling at the remnants. None of them returned my gaze, shifting anxiously, drifting further from us. Fable whined, lowering his head as he crawled toward me. I could feel the guilt in his soul, thick and suffocating.

Guilt...? But he...he hadn’t

tried to protect me. But why? My anger turned to confusion, and I looked back at Fyren, only to forget all else as Luke stirred. He took a sharp, rattling breath, and his eyes fluttered open, settling on the blurred shape of my face. They were wide and unfocused, tracing the line of my jaw for a moment before he reached up a tentative hand, brushing my cheek.

"Xiviyah...?"

His fingers, now whole and unburned, were warm, but they were Luke’s warm. A fresh wave of tears spilled down my cheeks, and I covered his hand, holding it to my face.

"I thought you were dead," I whispered.

"Not yet," With a groan, he pushed himself up and turned to look at Fyren. He coughed, licking his cracked lips, before rasping, "Why?"

Fyren stared at him long and hard, before giving a single, slow nod. "Well done. I wasn’t certain you would do it."

"A test?" Luke asked, eyes narrowing. "For what? You could have killed her! How could you not warn me?"

"Did you not hear me before? Every time our enemy has struck, it has been in the heat of battle or with cunning diversion. If you wish to protect her, there can be no hesitation or thought, no myopic focus on your own affairs."

"That’s what this is about?" Korra asked crossly.

Fyren never looked away from Luke. "You asked me a question, but I failed to answer it. I hope this sufficed."

Luke held his gaze for a moment before letting out a long sigh, falling back to the ground. I smoothed his hair back, caressing his forehead.

"I’m sorry, Xiviyah, for acting without warning. But even if he’d failed, I never would have allowed you to get hurt." His gaze wandered to the remnants, a wry smile flickering across his face. "I doubt I would have escaped this realm alive otherwise."

Enryst grumbled something under his breath, folding his arms and scowling at the ground. My gaze moved from him to Fyren, then to the runic circle that surrounded the arena. It had already reformed, pulsing strong and steady. But how...? And after it had broken so easily, too.

"You planned this," I whispered. "The barrier, the remnants..." My gaze strayed to Fable. "Even him."

"Him especially," Fyren agreed. "I doubt my attack would have even reached the barrier before he killed me, if I hadn’t."

"You? Scared of Fable?" Korra’s eyes widened, then narrowed, and she folded her arms. "Wait a second, you didn’t tell me. I’m starting to feel a little left out."

Fyren chuckled, sheathing his sword. He approached us and offered a large, gauntleted hand. Luke stared at it for a long time before reaching up and clasping it, letting the demon pull him to his feet. I bit my lip, a frustrated whine catching in my throat as he left. Luke was still tired; surely he needed to rest in my lap a little longer.

"Are you saying you trust me?" Luke asked.

Fyren snorted, releasing the apostle’s hand and stepping back. "Don’t mistake the beginning for the end. Our training continues tomorrow." He started off, but slowed, turning and looking over his shoulder. "But yes, until you prove otherwise. Well done."