Hero Of Broken History

Avian's POV

They lay on solid ground, dust from the laboratory's collapse still settling around them like ash from a funeral pyre. The Covenant Seal rested between them, its crystalline surface pulsing with gentle light — bound to both their essences from that desperate grab in mid-air.

"We need to move," Avian forced out, tasting copper with each word. The fusion-thing was gone, Craine buried beneath tons of stone and ancient failsafes, but Malethar itself remained. And they were still within its corrupted borders.

His ribs were definitely broken — at least three, maybe more. Each breath felt like swallowing glass. His left shoulder had separated when Craine threw him into the wall, the arm hanging useless. Blood from a dozen gashes painted abstract patterns across his torn clothing, and something inside was bleeding too. The desperate burn through Lux's essence had left her dormant in ring form, needing time to recover from giving everything.

But Thane looked worse. Using Whisper's Spirit Release had drained him past safe limits. His skin had gone grey, eyes unfocused, barely able to keep his feet under him.

Fucking idiot. Should have saved something. Should have planned for the escape.

They struggled to their feet — or rather, Avian struggled while Thane swayed like a tree in a storm. The laboratory's destruction had drawn attention. Corrupted things crept from the shadows of Malethar's twisted architecture, sensing weakness.

"Can't..." Thane stumbled, nearly taking them both down. "Whisper's... it's barely there."

Avian glanced at Thane's shadow. Where normally it writhed with subtle life, now it lay almost flat. The spirit was there but weakened to the point of near-dormancy.

"I know. Move anyway."

The corrupted city stretched before them in the morning light. Streets that bent at impossible angles. Buildings that pulsed with veins of darkness. And everywhere, the twisted remnants of what had been human, drawn by the laboratory's collapse like flies to a corpse.

Should have kept some strength in reserve. Should have remembered we still had to escape the city.

Another creature came at them — human torso on too many legs, skittering across cobblestones. Avian took its head off with Fargrim, the motion grinding broken bones together. The effort sent lightning through his skull, vision doubling.

Keep moving. Don't think about the pain. Don't think about anything but the next step.

"The city," Thane gasped. "Still have to—"

"I know."

They pressed forward, each step an agony. But they'd made it only a few blocks when Avian heard it — the wet sounds of pursuit. The blood trail they were leaving was better than any map.

"They're following," Thane managed.

"Of course they are." Avian shifted his grip on Fargrim. One good arm against however many corrupted nightmares. "Can you run?"

"Can you?"

Neither answered. They both knew the truth.

What followed wasn't a battle. It was survival through pure stubbornness.

Avian carved a path through corruption with mechanical precision. Each swing calculated for maximum effect, minimum effort. He couldn't afford waste. Couldn't afford the fancy techniques that made fighting look easy.

Just... keep... moving.

A thing that might have been a dog once came at them sideways, too many legs skittering across cobblestones. Avian took its head off, the motion grinding broken bones together. Behind it, something worse — a mass of fused children, their faces melted together but eyes still blinking independently. He reversed gravity beneath it, but the effort sent white-hot needles through his brain.

"Behind," Thane warned weakly.

Avian spun, bringing Fargrim up one-handed to block talons that would have opened his spine. The impact jarred his broken shoulder, arm going completely numb. He killed the attacker with a pommel strike to what might have been its skull.

Just... keep... moving.

They pressed on, leaving a trail of bodies and blood. Mostly Avian's blood at this point. The wounds weren't closing. His regeneration had nothing left to work with.

Three blocks. Five. Ten. Each step agony, but they pressed on. The city edge was visible now — maybe three hundred yards through twisted streets. Behind them, wet sounds of pursuit grew closer. Different now — not random corrupted, but organized. Hunting.

"Leave me," Thane managed. "You can't—"

"Shut. Up."

A pack of corrupted children blocked their path, moving with the terrible synchronization of shared madness. Too many to fight. Too fast to avoid. And behind them, heavier footsteps. Bigger things coming.

Avian burned through his last reserves, gravity fluctuating wildly around them. Not an attack — just chaos. The pack scattered, confused by directions that kept changing. He grabbed Thane and stumbled through the gap, vision tunneling to a narrow point.

Almost there. Almost—

His knee gave out. No warning, just sudden failure as overtaxed muscles finally said no. They went down hard, Avian taking the impact to protect Thane. More ribs cracked. Something in his chest shifted wrong.

The city's edge — so close. Maybe fifty yards. But his body had nothing left.

"Get up," he told himself. Vision going dark. "Get. Up."

No snark left. No clever thoughts. Just the animal need to move, to survive, to get Thane to safety. His body had other ideas.

Move. MOVE.

But nothing worked anymore.

Corrupted things circled closer, sensing weakness. Avian struggled to rise, made it to one knee before the world tilted sideways. He could see the city's edge — so close. Might as well have been miles.

"Go," he told Thane. "Take the Seal. Run."

Thane looked at him with eyes that couldn't quite focus. "You... you stupid bastard. After everything..."

"Trial said both survive. One is better than none. Fucking go."

But Thane didn't go. Instead, he grabbed Avian's good arm, trying to pull him up. Weak as a kitten, shadow-burned and mana-drained, and still the idiot tried.

Why? We're rivals. Enemies. I'm the Demon King, you ambitious prick. Let me die.

"Can't," Thane gasped. "Won't leave... brother."

The word hung between them — not the first time he'd said it, but the first time with full understanding. Not just a slip in desperation, but a choice.

When did you decide that? When did I stop being the enemy?

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The corrupted closed in. Avian forced himself up, swaying like a drunk. One more push. One more—

His vision went black at the edges. Then all the way black.

The last thing he felt was Thane trying to hold him up as they both fell.

Thane's POV

Darkness. Pain. The taste of ash and failure.

Then... warmth?

Thane opened eyes that felt like they'd been glued shut. Sunlight filtered through leaves overhead. Not the sickly light of Malethar, but clean afternoon sun. Birds sang. Actual birds, not the twisted things that screamed in the corrupted city.

He was lying on soft grass, a root digging into his back in a way that was wonderfully normal. Every part of him hurt, but it was the clean hurt of overexertion, not the soul-deep agony of mana depletion.

Memory crashed back. The laboratory. The Seal. Avian collapsing—

He sat up too fast, the world spinning. But there, arm's length away, lay his brother. Still breathing. Still alive. Still holding the Covenant Seal that pulsed gently between them.

Strange — even though neither of them gripped it tightly, the Seal remained bound to both. As if letting go required more than just releasing one's grip. As if it needed the conscious intention to relinquish claim, not mere physical separation.

The artifact felt warm between them, almost alive. For a moment, Thane could have sworn he felt something through it — an echo of Avian's desperation as he'd crawled toward safety. The raw, wordless determination to protect. To save. To not fail someone again.

It's reading us, he realized. Recording who we are when everything else is stripped away.

They were in the forest, but barely — just past the tree line, maybe a hundred yards from Malethar's border. The evidence was clear in the disturbed ground, the blood trail leading back toward the city, and—

Claw marks. Dozens of them, ending abruptly at the forest's edge where Malethar's corruption couldn't follow.

They chased us. We barely made it.

But how? The last thing he remembered was both of them collapsing in the street.

The drag marks told the story. Two sets — one deeper, more desperate. Avian had dragged himself to Thane, then somehow pulled them both toward safety. Not carried — the marks were too low, too scraped. He'd crawled, dragged, clawed their way to the tree line with corrupted things snapping at their heels.

And then I...

More drag marks, shakier but determined, leading from the forest's edge to here. His own hands were scraped raw, fingernails torn. He'd woken first and continued what Avian started, pulling them deeper into safety.

The memory came in fragments. Waking to snarls and reaching claws. Avian unconscious, corrupted things held back only by the forest's boundary. His body screaming that it had nothing left, that rest was all he wanted.

And then — unbidden — another memory. Years ago, when they were children.

Avian, eight years old, after breaking his arm in training. Father had been furious at the weakness. But while everyone focused on Father's rage, Thane had seen Avian reset his own bone with barely a whimper. Saw him wrap it himself, hide the injury, continue training left-handed for weeks rather than show vulnerability again.

Even then, you never let anyone see you break.

His mother's voice, clear as temple bells: Heroes aren't always the strongest. Sometimes they're the ones who stand up especially when they're weak.

Those words had given him strength he didn't have, made him grab Avian's collar and pull. Inch by inch. Yard by yard. Until exhaustion claimed him again.

Thane stared at his little brother — no, not little, not really — and tried to reconcile what he saw. The Demon King, terror of the Empire, scourge of humanity... who'd burned through everything to save them both. Who'd crawled through streets of nightmare rather than abandon him.

Heroes aren't always the strongest, his mother's voice whispered again. Sometimes they're the ones who stand up especially when they're weak.

"You stupid, stubborn bastard," Thane whispered. "Why?"

The Seal pulsed, and for a moment he felt it — an echo of emotion through their shared connection. Pride too deep for words. Exhaustion beyond measure. And underneath it all, something that might have been... loneliness?

Five hundred years of being the monster. Five hundred years of necessary lies. And you still dragged me out.

Thane checked Avian's injuries with shaking hands. The regeneration was trying to work, but it was sluggish, barely visible. Bones attempting to realign, wounds trying to close, but without energy to fuel it.

"Av..." Avian's eyes fluttered open, unfocused. Storm blue dulled with exhaustion, struggling to track. His mouth moved but no sound came. Just mouthing words like a fish out of water.

"Don't try to talk. You burned everything." Thane looked around desperately. They needed food, water, anything to help the regeneration. But their supplies...

He checked their packs. The water skins had burst during the fighting, contents long soaked into corrupted ground. The rations were paste, contaminated with blood and worse things. Nothing salvageable.

"Need... to..." Avian managed a whisper, barely audible. His eyes kept sliding shut.

"I know. The trial." Thane did the math and his heart sank. "We're already a day behind schedule. But the nearest town is..."

Miles away. Through forest. With both of them barely functional.

Avian's hand moved slightly. Not reaching for anything, just a minute gesture toward his ring finger where Lux rested. His lips formed words Thane had to lean close to hear.

"Feeding... her... mana..."

Even now, even dying, he was trickling what little energy he had to his spirit companion. Keeping her alive at his own expense.

"Stop that. You need—"

But Avian's eyes had closed again, consciousness fading. His breathing was shallow but steady. The regeneration might work, eventually, if he could rest. If they had time.

Time they didn't have.

Thane should leave. Take the Seal, complete the trial alone. It would be logical. Strategic. Everything Father had taught him to value.

Instead, he grabbed Avian under the arms and started dragging.

Mother, give me strength. Just a little more.

The first hundred yards took forever. His body had nothing left, running on will alone. But his mother's words echoed with each step. Not the twisted versions he'd created, but her true lessons. About strength that wasn't strength. About heroes who weren't mighty.

About choosing to stand when standing was impossible.

By the time the sun started setting, they'd made it maybe half a mile. Thane collapsed beside a stream, muscles seizing. But it was water — clean, uncorrupted water.

He cupped it to Avian's lips, coaxing him to drink. After a moment, those storm blue eyes opened again, more focused than before.

"Where..." The word came out cracked but audible.

"Safe. Ish. Forest." Thane drank deeply himself, the water tasting better than wine. "We're fucked, by the way. Day late already. No supplies. Nearest town is ten miles."

"Hm." Avian tried to sit up, made it halfway. Progress. "The Seal?"

"Still bound to both of us. Can't seem to break it without meaning to." Thane held up the artifact. "Probably for the best. Neither of us could protect it alone right now."

They sat in silence by the stream, two broken brothers bound by shared truth. The regeneration was working better now — Avian's wounds closing visibly, color returning slowly.

"We should move," Avian said eventually. His voice was stronger, though still rough. "Father gave us seven days. Three to get there, three back..."

"And we've already blown that." Thane grimaced. "Four days gone. Even if we push hard, we're looking at another two days minimum to get home. That's six days total."

"Still within the deadline. Barely."

"If nothing else goes wrong." Thane looked at their condition — both barely functional, no supplies, ten miles to the nearest town. "And when has anything on this trial gone right?"

"Can you walk?"

"Can you?"

They helped each other stand, using trees and spite to stay upright. The Seal pulsed between them, patient as always. Through it, Thane felt something new — not just magical connection, but understanding. They'd both chosen the other over victory. Both refused to let go.

"Ten miles to the nearest town," Thane said. "We need horses. Supplies. Then ride hard for home."

"Money?"

"Some. Not much." Thane checked his purse — bloodstained but intact. "Enough for basic needs if we're careful."

"Or we steal what we need." Avian's smile was sharp despite his exhaustion. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Not just allies, Thane thought as they took their first steps. Not rivals. Not heirs competing for father's approval. Something else. Something stronger.

Brothers. Real brothers this time.

They set off into the deepening forest, supporting each other with each step. Every yard was agony, but they pressed on. The deadline loomed — one day left to cover what had taken three.

"We're going to make it," Thane said, though he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Avian or himself.

"Together," Avian agreed. "No other way works anymore."

Behind them, Malethar's corruption settled into ancient patterns. Ahead, the path home promised exhaustion and desperate speed.

But they'd face it as they'd escaped the city — together.

Because sometimes the greatest strength was admitting you couldn't stand alone.

And sometimes the most bitter enemies could choose to become the truest brothers.

The Covenant Seal pulsed between them with each painful step, no longer just an artifact or trial objective, but a reminder of what they'd both learned in Malethar's depths:

Truth cuts both ways, but the wounds it leaves are the ones that teach us who we really are.

And who we choose to be.