Chapter 1247: The Last Refuge

Thron gave me a quizzical look, but before he could ask further, a glittering golden dart shot through the door. It burst into Borealis, spreading crystalline wings of molten gold. The demon flew right into my arms, trailing stars after him. I rose and caught him with a giggle, nuzzling his head with my cheek.

"You did it!" I cried, squeezing him close.

He cawed proudly, preening himself in an effort to retain some dignity as I smothered him in my arms.

"This is a demon?" Thron asked, wonder in his voice.

"Borealis. He’s been my friend for a long time," I answered.

Borealis squawked, shifting to perch on my forearm. He looked Thron over for a moment, then dipped his head in what I hoped was approval.

"Fascinating," the old librarian murmured, studying the eagle-like creature with a furrowed brow. "He bears your mana and your aura. I can’t sense any of the infernal presence normally associated with demons."

"All the Fate Demons are like that. We think it’s because of the Primordial Mark. Fyren said they took after me and were changed by the divinity."

"I see. I would love to study them more sometime, perhaps—"

A powerful aura swept through the library, accompanied by a flood of Luke’s mana. The books rustled, seeming to tuck themselves deeper into their shelves and alcoves, hiding from the shadows that stretched through the room, heralding the arrival of the Apostle of Curses.

Luke descended through the open space above us, alighting on the floor. His gaze caught on Nithalee and Lysander, who eyed him warily, but he paid them little attention. The moment our eyes met, he left the ground again, soaring toward us.

Borealis squawked belligerently as Luke brushed him aside, snatching me up in a hug and spinning me around in the air. I laughed, holding him tight until our feet touched down again.

"You’re safe?" he murmured, kissing the top of my head.

"Y-yes," I stammered, blushing furiously. I was all too aware of Thron’s eyebrows rising toward his receding hairline.

"And who is this?" Luke asked, turning toward the librarian. His arm remained draped around me, his hand resting on my hip. I snuggled against him.

"This is Thron, my... friend," I said, giving the old man a shy smile.

Thron rose, smoothing his robes before offering a respectful bow.

"It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Lord Apostle."

Luke raised an eyebrow. "You know me?"

"I believe so. There are few in this world who possess such power, and fewer still who would make an entrance quite like that." Thron straightened, regarding him with a cautious expression. "Your reputation precedes you, of course. The Apostle of Curses and commander of the Infernal Horde. I confess, I never expected to meet you in my library."

Luke studied him for a moment. "I imagine not."

"Though seeing you here with the Oracle does put me somewhat at ease," Thron added, glancing at me.

"Xiviyah trusts you," Luke replied. "That’s enough for me."

Thron’s expression softened.

"She’s a remarkable young lady. I remember when she was little more than a frightened child wandering these halls, trying to learn her first spells. It’s rather difficult to reconcile that girl with the woman standing before me now."

My cheeks warmed, and I ducked my head. Really, did they have to discuss me as though I wasn’t standing right there?

"He’s helped me a lot," I mumbled, trying to regain some control of the conversation. "Back when I lived here, and even after I left."

"I merely did what little I could, child," Thron said, his voice returning to its familiar warmth.

"And this is Luke," I continued, glancing up at him. "He’s, um..."

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around his robes. Gods, why was this suddenly so difficult? It wasn’t as though I’d never confessed my feelings before, but saying it in front of Thron felt strangely different.

"I love him," I finished quietly.

My tail twitched, pressing against Luke’s to keep from quivering.

"Oh?" Thron said, looking between us. His eyebrows rose slightly before a gentle smile spread across his face. "I see. Well, that is wonderful news, child."

He turned back toward Luke, his expression growing more reserved.

"Forgive me, Lord Apostle. I hadn’t realized the nature of your relationship."

"There’s nothing to forgive," Luke replied.

"Then allow me to offer my congratulations. Xiviyah has always been very dear to me, and it does my heart good to see her so happy."

Luke glanced down at me, his expression softening.

"So am I."

Thron smiled, though a trace of hesitation remained in his expression.

"I hope you’ll forgive an old man’s concern, but I would ask that you treat her kindly. She’s endured more than most could bear."

Luke’s gaze returned to the librarian.

"I know."

There was something in the quiet certainty of his answer that made Thron pause. After a moment, the old man inclined his head. Luke offered him his hand, which Thron accepted with a firm, if cautious, shake.

"And please, call me Luke," he said. "There’s no need for titles between us."

"As you wish, Lord Apostle," Thron replied automatically.

Luke’s lips twitched. I couldn’t help giggling, and Thron gave me a rather helpless look.

"You don’t have to be so formal. Luke actually hates things like that," I said.

"I see. Then... Luke, is it?"

Luke chuckled, his tail giving a small swish. "That’s fine with me." He looked down at me and met my gaze. I nodded, and he cleared his throat. "It’s been a pleasure, but I’m afraid we can’t stay and speak for long. Though I’ll admit I’m curious. Xiviyah’s never spoken much about her life before Heartland, and if the opportunity arises, I’d be interested in hearing more about her time here."

"It’s a sad story, I’m afraid, and you’re quite right. One for another day." Thron smiled, stroking his beard. "But should we all survive this war, and you care to listen to an old man reminisce, I’d be happy to share what I know. Have you heard, perhaps, of the time Xiviyah faced the War Hero in the arena? She learned her first third-level spell in only a matter of days... or was it hours? Ah, either way, she was simply marvelous! When he—"

"Thro-oon!" I protested, my tail twitching bashfully. "Not now..."

"Ah, yes. Forgive me, child. I do get carried away." He chuckled, then coughed and straightened his robes. "And you’re right, this is hardly the time for idle chatter."

His smile faded as he glanced toward the shelves, where a few of the younger librarians had gathered to watch us. He hesitated a moment before turning back to Luke.

"There is one matter I would ask of you, however, Lord Apostle."

Luke inclined his head, waiting for him to continue.

"I would ask that you spare those who have taken refuge here. Many within the Divine Throne are innocent of the atrocities committed by the gods and their servants. Slaves, servants, scholars... people who want nothing more than to survive this war. I’ve offered them sanctuary within these halls, and I would be grateful if you would honor that."

He paused, glancing around the library.

"And there is the library itself. These shelves contain thousands of years of Enusia’s history, records, and magical knowledge. Much of it exists nowhere else. Whatever becomes of the Divine Throne, that knowledge cannot be lost alongside it."

His hands settled together before him, the fingers tightening slightly.

"I understand that I have little right to make demands of you, especially under the circumstances. If you wish, I would be willing to maintain the library under your authority. Only, I ask that you spare it the destruction that has befallen the rest of the Throne."

He bowed his head respectfully.

"Please, Lord Apostle. There has been enough lost already."

"Xiviyah?"

"I... please?"

Luke considered me for a moment, then nodded.

"I have no love for the gods, nor the knowledge they have granted this world. Much of what they touch is poison." His gaze passed over the shelves before returning to Thron. "But if this place matters to Xiviyah, then you have my word. No demon under my command shall harm those you’ve sheltered here, nor damage the library."

"Thank you," I whispered, leaning my head against him. "Truly, thank you."

Thron bowed low. "You have my gratitude, Lord—Luke." He hesitated before continuing. "And please, care for Xiviyah. The foes awaiting you within the archives are among those who have caused her the greatest suffering. I would never ask that you deny her the chance to face them, but..."

His voice trailed off, and he glanced at me with an expression I knew all too well. It was the same look he’d given me when I’d first struggled to learn magic, worried that I’d pushed myself too far.

Luke’s grip on me tightened, his voice gaining a cold edge.

"I understand. But there’s no need for worry. No one here will hurt Xiviyah again."

Thron regarded him for a moment, then inclined his head.

"I shall trust you to keep that promise."

I slipped out of Luke’s arms and embraced the librarian one more time. Tears welled up as I breathed in his familiar scent, and his old, ink-stained hands gently patted my back.

"Now, now, child," he murmured. "None of that. You’ve grown into such a fine young woman, and here you are, crying all over an old man’s robes."

"S-sorry," I mumbled, making no effort to pull away.

He chuckled, smoothing my hair between my horns.

"There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m glad you came to see me, Xiviyah. More than you know."

I squeezed him a little tighter before reluctantly letting go. He gave my hands one last reassuring pat, then stepped back, straightening his robes as though nothing particularly remarkable had happened.

"Now, off you go. I believe you’ve kept your companions waiting long enough."

I nodded, wiping my cheeks with my sleeve. "I’ll come back. When it’s all over, I mean."

"I should hope so. We have a great deal to catch up on, and I’d like to hear about all those marvelous spells you’ve developed." His eyes twinkled. "Perhaps you might even teach this old librarian a thing or two."

I managed a small smile. "I’d like that."

Luke waited until I’d finished saying goodbye before taking my hand. Together, we made our way back toward the main hall, where Nithalee, Lysander, and the others were waiting. Borealis fluttered overhead, falling to perch on my shoulder.

Behind us, Thron returned to his desk, and I glanced back once more. He was already sorting through a stack of books, occasionally pausing to give directions to one of the younger librarians. It was such a familiar sight that I almost expected him to call me back and remind me to return some long-overdue spellbook.

I smiled faintly, then turned away.

The library had survived, and so had Thron. For the first time since returning to Radia, I felt as though something was right.

But we weren’t finished yet.

At the far end of the library, the entrance to the archives waited beyond the rows of shelves. The familiar warmth of the reading halls gradually gave way to a heavy concentration of mana, the air shimmering faintly beneath the enchantments woven through the passage. Even from here, I could feel the wards guarding the chambers beyond.

My smile faded as I looked toward the entrance. Somewhere past those doors lay the Soltair, the Pope, and the World Shard. Beyond there was all that was left of the Divine Throne’s authority. The people responsible for so much of my suffering were waiting there, and unlike the librarians, they had no intention of surrendering.

Luke squeezed my hand, drawing my attention back to him. Korra, Gayron, Grace, and R’lissea had arrived at some point during my reunion with the old librarian, meaning we were all here.

"Ready?" Luke asked.

I looked at the others gathering around us, then back into the library. Maybe it was just my aura, and the visions drifting through the stars, but I thought I saw a girl, maybe a head shorter than me, sitting in the alcove we’d just left. She clutched a book to her chest, hiding a dark, blood-red crest, and stared out the window. Tears misted her eyes, and they seemed comfortable there.

She seemed to be praying, but I knew better. She’d already run out of prayers.

I turned away, giving her a small, silent promise, and looked to Luke. "Let’s go."