đđđđ 195 - EP.12
đđđđ 195-masterlist
@Miharuki:I took the things Winnie wrote; we both wrote together, but you may notice that the writing is a little different because of that,I'll leave all her social networks here in case you want to see
Upon arriving at the location, Wally shot off in a red blur, circled the area, and returned to the team in an instant.
"Nothing," he announced, hands on his hips. "This isn't simple holographic camouflage. So, what do you think?"
Artemis frowned, analyzing the shimmering air. "Adaptive micro-optoelectronics combined with phase shifting?"
Wally almost accepted the theory, his face brightening for a fraction of a secondâuntil he realized who it came from. His expression hardened into forced sarcasm.
"Absolutely⌠not. Clearly, mystical powers are at work here." His voice carried a disdain that didn't even sound genuine, just defensive.
"A test of faith," Aqualad murmured, his eyes fixed on the pulsating void. He walked ahead of the group. "Stay behind me."
With a decisive gesture, he inserted the metal key into the air. The space before them roared and tore open, revealing an arched doorway of black stone and, beyond it, the impossible silhouette of the Tower of Fate hovering over a starry abyss. Everyone entered. As soon as the last foot crossed the threshold, the door vanished without a sound.
"Hmph. Where did the door go?" Superboy asked, turning around and clenching his fists, only to find solid wall.
A golden light coalesced in the center of the room, forming the translucent image of an elderly man with a severe countenance.
"Greetings. You entered with a key, but the tower does not recognize you. Please, state your purpose and intention."
Wally, always the first to jump, stepped forward with a confident smile. "We're true believers, here to find Dr. Fate!"
The lie echoed like a shout in a cathedral. The stone floor beneath their feet cracked with a thunderous boom, flipping over like the jaw of a monster. Screams filled the air as everyone fell into the opening void.
*Renji!* you commanded, mentally, panic a silent scream.
The animalâyour weaselâlaughed, a sharp, amused mental sound. *"Now?! What timing!"* But he obeyed. He spat your yo-yo into your open hand.
In the midst of the fall, you threw it. It didn't go towards the ground, but against the walls of the shaft, striking and ricocheting at impossible angles. The string, now tinged with an amber energy you didn't even have a name for, wove a shimmering net between the stones, stretching out like a divine spider's web.
The team fell onto the net, which stretched elastically before firming up. You glared angrily at Wally, your fingers tightening around the yo-yo string as if it were his neck. He just raised his eyebrows, spreading his arms in an innocent gesture.
"What?" he asked, as if he weren't the one responsible for them almost plummeting into an abyss of mystical magma.
You then shouted, your voice cutting through the tense air like a blade, directed straight at the void where Nelson's apparition had dissolved:
"Red Tornado sent us to check if Mr. Nelson and the helmet were safe! WE ARE NOT ENEMIES!"
The echo of your words seemed to vibrate in the stone. For a second, nothing happened. Then, with a deep groan that came from the tower's very bowels, the cracks in the floor began to close. The incandescent lava that flickered in the abyss drained downward, as if sucked by a giant drain, and the large stone slabs fit back together perfectly, as if they had never been split.
With a final, firm tug, you reeled in the yo-yo. The abrupt movement made the energy net dissolve, and the team, who were still in a slight state of suspension, fell back onto the now-solid platform. Some fell face-first onto the cold floor, others landed sitting in a clumsy heap. You and Renji remained standing, unfazed. The animal swallowed the yo-yo back, his small body shaking with a silent, triumphant laugh that only you could feel, as if the whole mess was the best fun he'd ever had.
Wally, dusting himself off, saw his chance. He lunged towards Megan with an exaggerated smile. "Don't worry, M'gannicious, I got you!"
That scene. That pattern. The desperate, pathetic attempt to impress the girl, completely ignoring that they almost died. It was identical to timeline 22. And in 22, that distraction had cost everything.
The anger, fermenting for weeks, exploded. You didn't think.
"ENOUGH! GODDAMMIT, WALLY! YOUR GAME TO IMPRESS MEGAN ALMOST SCREWED EVERYTHING! WE COULD HAVE DIED!"
The silence was sudden and absolute. Wally stopped mid-stride, his face a mask of genuine confusion.
"Since when is the blame on me?" he asked, arms open.
That only enraged you further. You closed the distance in two steps and jabbed your index finger against his chest, each word a stake.
"YOU SAID WE WERE TRUE BELIEVERS! BUT HELL, YOU DON'T BELIEVE IN MAGIC! YOUR MIND IS LOGICAL, IT'S THE SAME CRAP AS AN ATHEIST SAYING THEY BELIEVE IN GOD!"
You released him, stepping back as if he burned. Your ragged breathing echoed in the stone room. Everyone was staring at youâshock, alarm, consternation. You turned to a wall, trying to contain the tremor in your hands. It was intrusive. Everything was so intense, so irritating.
"Wally⌠you don't believe?" Megan's voice was small, hurt.
He sighed, rubbing his face. "Alright. Alright, I lied about believing in magic. But magic is the real lie! A big fat lie thatâŚ"
"Wally," Aqualad interjected, his voice calm as deep water. "I studied for a year at the Conservatory of Sorcery in Atlantis. Mystic arts created the skin icons that energize my water-bearers."
"Dude, have you ever heard of bioelectricity?" Wally argued, ignoring Kaldur. "In primitive cultures, fire was considered magic too. Nowadays, it's all just a bunch ofâŚ"
"You're pretty close-minded for a guy⌠who can break the sound barrier in sneakers," Artemis cut in, dryly.
"DO YOU ALL WANT TO STOP?!" Your shout cut through the air again, making everyone flinch. You turned to them, eyes burning. "SAYING MAGIC EXISTS WON'T MAKE HIM BELIEVE! IT'S LITERALLY A BELIEVER TRYING TO FORCE AN ATHEIST TO SWALLOW THEIR FAITH! JUSTâŚ" you swallowed, forcing your voice down to a hoarse whisper, "âŚjust let Wally be the science nerd. As long as he stops almost getting us killed with it."
Without waiting for a response, you knelt and found a nearly invisible trapdoor on the floor. You opened it. An icy wind, carrying snowflakes, rose from within. You descended first, without looking back.
The others followed, the trapdoor closing with a final click, muffling their shaken murmurs. The new chamber was a frozen study, books covered in frost.
"What's that?" Megan pointed to a staff of intricate wood, leaning against a bookshelf.
You and Wally moved at the same time. Your hand wrapped around the shaft at the same time as his.
"Easy! I⌠can't!" Wally's voice was panicked. The staff wasn't just being held; it was stuck, as if the wood had come alive and grabbed their hands. In your own hand, you felt a pulling resistance, elastic and insistent, like gum.
Before anyone could react, the staff rose on its own, lifting you and Wally like puppets. A vortex of golden light engulfed you.
They reappeared on a flight of infinite stairs, twisting and spiraling in space like MĂśbius strips. Wally was still struggling to free his hand, muttering "Sorry, sorry, I didn't know!", oblivious to the figure appearing above them.
Kent Nelson, solid and real, flew down rapidly and with a simple gesture, he touched the staff. The mystical adhesion dissolved. You both let go, and Nelson wasted no time. He struck the base of the staff against a seemingly solid stone wall, which dissolved into a misty doorway. "In here!" he ordered.
You entered last. In the final gap, through a break in the mist, your eyes caught a scene in the main hall: Klarion, the Witch Boy, with his cat Teekl on his shoulder, and Abra Kadabra, the master of futuristic tricks. Klarion was raising his hand, fingers contorted to cast a spell, when Teekl, the cat, suddenly arched its back and hissedâdirectly at your hiding spot. Its yellow eyes met yours for a fraction of a second, sensing the danger, the anomaly you represented. Then the misty door closed, cutting off the view.
Inside the small safe room, you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. Renji jumped from one of your arms to his usual perch on your shoulder. The animal, with its immaculate white fur and ordinary appearance, trembled internally.
"By the way," Kent Nelson's gentle voice broke the silence. He was sitting on a stone bench, with a tired but genuine smile. "My name is Kent Nelson."
Wally, rubbing his red wrist, rolled his eyes. "We know! Hey, whatâŚ"
Your punch to the back of Wally's head was fast and solid, cutting him off with an "Ouch!"
You approached Nelson, your fury dissipated, replaced by resigned exhaustion. You shook the old wizard's extended hand.
"Nice to meet you. I'm (Hero)," you said, your voice finally calm. "The other one is Wally."
"The pleasure is all mine," Nelson replied, his grip firm and surprisingly warm. His smile faded, replaced by a deep gravity. "Although, I must say, our circumstances are less than ideal. We now face an opponent⌠with tremendous mystical power."
"Abra Kadabra? Hmph." Wally snorted, crossing his arms. "The Flash proved he uses futuristic tech to simulate magic. The guy's all show and no substance."
"You are right." The answer came from Nelson, not as a compliment, but as a fact. Wally looked at you with a confident smile, seeking validation. You just rolled your eyes and turned away.
"Abra Kadabra is a charlatan. A high-level illusionist, but a charlatan nonetheless," the old wizard continued, his eyes losing focus, as if seeing through the tower's walls. "But Klarion⌠the witch boy with the cat⌠he is a true Lord of Chaos. The ultimate enemy of a Lord of Order, like Dr. Fate."
"Right. And you're a Lord of Order," Wally deduced, raising a finger. But his face twisted in confusion as Nelson shook his head with a sad smile.
"Oh, no, I'm not. Not by a long shot." He pulled a medallion from his coat, stroking the silver surface with his thumb. "I was just⌠an old coat that Fate used. Until my wife, Inza, convinced me that life could be more than that. Ah, she was a real pest, that Inza⌠the best kind of pest." His voice wavered for a moment before he swallowed hard and put the medallion away. The tenderness evaporated, replaced by urgent practicality. "Anyway. Klarion is after the helmet. If he gets his hands on it⌠he won't want to rule the world. He'll want to break it. Turn the planet into his own personal pandemonium playground."
A metallic, rhythmic sound echoed in the room, coming from a large duct in the corner. The sound of somethingâor someoneâbeing repeatedly banged against the walls of a metal tube.
*KNOCK.* Moan. *KNOCK.* Muffled cry.
"Friends of yours?" Nelson asked, raising a gray eyebrow in the direction of the noise.
"No," you replied without hesitation, your voice a flat murmur. "Just coworkers." You didn't see the look the old man gave youâa mixture of curiosity and a spark of recognition.
The moment was interrupted by a blood-red glow that appeared through the wall, shaping itself into the form of a chaotic energy scythe. Klarion. You didn't thinkâyou acted. A hand on Nelson's nape, you pushed him down, forcing him to crouch. The energy scythe hissed over your heads, exploding against the bookshelf behind in a shower of splinters and burnt paper.
"Let's go!" you ordered, pulling the old man back to his feet. Nelson, surprisingly agile, was already moving. He struck a small bronze bell on a table; a clear *ding* echoed, and a section of the wooden paneling on the wall slid aside to reveal a secret passage. You ushered him inside, with Wally covering the rear, his eyes wide from the near-death experience.
The passage led them straight to the sanctum sanctorum. In the center of the tower's top, under the dome, rested the Helm of Fate. Nelson ran towards it, his trembling hand reaching out.
A bolt of pure red chaos shot from the shadows, aiming directly at the old man's back. You moved in the last possible instant, your arm wrapping around Nelson's frail waist and pulling him hard to the side. The bolt passed, scorching the air where your chest had been and incinerating a marble column.
The two of you rolled on the floor. You recovered first, kneeling over him, one arm still protectively across his torso.
"Are you okay?" you murmured, your eyes not on him, but scanning the shadows above, looking for a yellow glow and a feline silhouette.
Nelson, panting, nodded. There was a different spark in his eyes nowânot fear, but assessment. He grabbed his staff, which had fallen beside him, and with a grunt of effort, struck its tip on the floor.
*"Per istam virtutem, protegam nos!"*
The Latin words came out firm. You understood them and watched as a dome of translucent golden energy erupted from the staff, enveloping the three of you. An instant later, another chaotic bolt slammed against it and dissipated into harmless sparks.
Behind the barrier, Nelson turned to Wally, who was crouched, mouth agape.
"Not bad for an ex-Dr. Fake, huh, kid?"
"Stay down and hold him," you ordered Wally, your voice making it clear it wasn't a request. "Don't let him do anything heroic and stupid."
Wally, still dazed, just nodded, wrapping a protectiveâif still clumsyâarm around the old wizard's shoulders. You, with cold eyes, watched as Nelson's golden shield trembled under the next impact.
"Believe what you can no longer deny," the old man whispered, his eyes fixed on Wally with a final intensity. Then, the light in them went out. Nelson's body went heavy and limp in the speedster's arms.
"No⌠no, no, no!" Wally screamed, panic taking over. He laid the old man carefully on the floor and began chest compressions, his hands shaking but moving with trained precision. "Twenty-eight⌠29⌠30!"
As he leaned in to give rescue breaths, you felt it. Didn't hear it, but felt itâa crack in the air, a groan of energy. The golden shield Nelson had conjured trembled, becoming translucent, its runes flickering in distress. Without the mage to sustain it, it wouldn't last more than a few seconds.
"(Hero?)" Wally's voice was a mix of pleading and desperation. He didn't stop the compressions, his eyes begging for help, for a solution, for a miracle. "Where are you going?!"
You didn't answer. Your mind had already calculated all the variables, lived through this moment (or something horribly similar) too many times. Wally couldn't put on the helmet. In the lines where he did, the result was catastrophicâeither he was consumed by Fate's archetypal personality and lost forever, or the process took too long and everyone died. The breaking point was now.
Your steps were steady towards the podium. The Helm of Fate rested there, not as an object, but as a silent vortex of absolute power. You could feel the ordered madness whispering from the cold metal.
A telepathic cry of pain and despair made Wally shudder internally:
*WALLY! WE'RE IN TROUBLE! TELL KENT WE NEED DR. FATE! NOW!*
Wally, still kneeling over Nelson, froze for a fraction of a second. His gaze turned to you, his lips parted to relay the message, to pass the responsibility.
He saw your hand close around the helmet.
"NO!" His bellow was a burst of pure terror.
Renjichiro jumped from your shoulder, landing on the floor with a soft *pat*. The animal sat on its haunches, its head tilted with obscene curiosity, its bright eyes watching you lift the Helm. Inside your mind, you could hear him laughingâa laugh of pure hysterical fascination, like a child watching an epic, terrible ending to a fairy tale.
You didn't hesitate. You placed the helmet on your head.
There was no pain. No explosive light. It was a sudden, absolute silence, followed by an infinite pressure, as if all the weight of every possibility and law of the universe was being squeezed inside your skull. You floated (or sank) in a void where time had no meaning.
And then, a voice. Not coming from outside, but emerging from the very depths of the consciousness the helmet now touched. It was an ancient voice, calm, immensely tired, and infinitely powerful.
"I was hoping you wouldn't do that."
In what was now your world, you turned (if "turning" existed there).
There was Kent Nelson. Not the physical body that lay on the tower floor, but although he looked much like him, you felt it wasn't quite him.
"I thought it would be the red-haired boy," Nelson's apparition continued, his wise, sad eyes fixed on you. "He has the right heart⌠and the necessary stubbornness. But you⌠you seem to carry the weight of an entire world on your shoulders, maybe worse. Why did you do it?"
"Don't be so startled by it, child. I can see it in your eyes, not the obvious disguise."
It was at that moment you looked at your clothes, different from the disguise; they were clothes you liked to wear. Pulling a lock of hair, it was your hair. The glasses weren't there. None of the fake civilian disguise was. For a moment, your hand hesitated to touch your neck, the fear of it being there making you swallow hard. You prayed it wasn't. Unfortunately, when your fingers touched the soft fabric, you realized that even there, that thing didn't come off. But feeling around, you noticed something was missing: the trigger pin. Normally, the choker had a pull pin like on a grenade, to kill you and reset the timeline. But it wasn't there.
"Don't worry, you're not dead. But unfortunately, your soul no longer controls the body. Not does that thing."
"But don't feel bad for me," he said, as if to cut off the question. "As soon as this little mess is over⌠my spirit will ascend, and I will finally be reunited with my beloved Inza." His tone was one of sweet anticipation, not lament. He was a man ready for rest, not a trapped ghost.
He then looked directly at you, at the silent panic that must have been written in your essence, and smiledâa genuine, reassuring smile.
"You see, we're inside the helmet. You put it on, and what remained of my soul⌠was sucked inside. Probably because I spent many years serving as its host, its channel. One last crumb of connection."
"Nabu," you murmured, the name coming out like a grim recognition. The true power, the intelligence behind the legend.
"Exactly," Nelson confirmed with a nod. "One of those Lords of Order I mentioned. He's the one controlling your body now."
"Want to watch?" Nelson asked, and before you could agree, the wall of the void before you dissolved, becoming a translucent window to the outside world.
The view was strangely intimate and deeply alienating. It was your point of viewâthe height, the angleâbut filtered through the cold, immovable lenses of the Helm. You saw through them, a spectator inside your own body.
Your body (or what had been your body) was standing, erect and imposing, now wearing the heavy golden robes of Dr. Fate, which had materialized from nowhere, replacing your uniform. Cosmic energy of Order pulsed in silent waves around it, making the air tremble. Ahead, floating with a mocking smile stretching his pale boyish face, was Klarion. Teekl, his familiar cat, was perched on his shoulder, yellow eyes fixed on the hooded figure, a silent hiss escaping its throat.
"Give it up, Nabu!" Klarion's voice was a sharp, irritating singsong, full of perverse glee. "Order went out of fashion in the 20th century! Chaos is much more⌠fun."
The response came, and it was your voice that emitted it, but transformed. It was deeper, resonant, carrying an authority that echoed not just in the room, but in the very foundations of reality. There was no emotion in it. Only declaration.
"This battle is futile." Your arm (Nabu's arm) rose, and a shield of golden energy, studded with complex runes, sprouted from the air to block a red chaotic bolt Klarion had suddenly launched. The impact was silent, the chaos energy dissipating against the ordered barrier like smoke against glass. "You tried to take the helmet before it found a host. But you are too late."
The statement seemed to irritate Klarion deeply. His childish face contorted into a grimace of pure rage.
"Shut up, you senile old fool!" he screamed, gesticulating wildly. More bolts of distorted energy shot from his fingers, weaving an unpredictable and deadly pattern towards the body you inhabited.
The response was a single word, spoken with such immense disdain it was almost physical. A word that summed up centuries of cosmic disagreement, uttered with the final coldness of a judge passing sentence.
And then, your body moved. Not with your usual agility, but with a terrible, economical efficiency. Every gesture was calculated, every deflection a geometric proof against random chaos. You watched, a prisoner in your own flesh, as a battle that transcended mortal understanding unfolded, piloted by an ancient will using your limbs as tools.
Nelson, beside you in the void, sighed, a sound of tired resignation.
"And so it goes," he murmured. "The eternal dance. I'm sorry you got pulled into the center of it, my child."
Until a bolt of pure chaos, denser and more violent than the previous ones, pierced a momentary breach in the shield and struck the golden chest plate of Dr. Fate.
The pain was not filtered. It was not lessened by Nabu's presence.
It erupted directly into you, into the fragment of soul trapped within the Helm. A scream tore from your spiritual throatâan agonized, raw sound that echoed in the void. Outside, your physical body (controlled by Nabu) fell to its knees on the floor with a dull thud, sinister smoke rising from the point of impact.
And then, something else happened.
Around your spiritual neck, the Chokerâwhich was the physical anchor of your temporal curse, your true formâbegan to vibrate. Within the non-physical space of the helmet, it seemed to gain weight, density. And then, it discharged. Sharp, merciless shocks of reverse temporal energy coursed through your essence, not healing, but undoingâas if trying to rewind a film that was being burned. The sensation was of being dismantled and reassembled at the same time, an agony unique that surpassed the physical pain of the bolt.
You fell to your knees on the floor of the void, gasping, glimpsing for an instant the stone floor of the tower through the observation window. The pain of the shock was so real, so yours.
"What⌠what was that?" you panted, your spiritual voice trembling.
Kent Nelson was beside you in an instant. Not to helpâhe couldn'tâbut with a look of deep pity.
"Well," he said, softly. "It's your body. The connection is still there, even with Nabu in charge. You feel what he feels, on a fundamental level. But you can see now⌠you can see why I haven't put on the helmet for 65 years. The price isn't just control. It's sharing all the agony."
You looked at him, still kneeling, your spiritual face probably pale from shock and residual pain.
"What ifâŚ" your voice failed, choking in the spiritual void. You swallowed, forcing the syllables through a throat that didn't exist. "What if Fate loses this fight? I can't⌠I can'tâŚ"
The sentence died in a whisper. *I can't die like this? Trapped? I can't be locked in here forever?*
Nelson understood. His gaze became even gentler, a profound compassion tinged with sorrow. He saw the dread of eternal imprisonment, something worse than death for an already exhausted spirit.
"You'll see Inza before I do, then," he murmured, as if offering a macabre comfort. For him, the passage to the beyond was a serene certainty, a long-awaited reunion. For you, it was just another precipice of uncertainty.
Then you shook your head, looking at the floor. It didn't make sense. You looked at the man before murmuring:
"But the thing is, I can't die."
"I⌠well, in simple terms, I'm the impossibility of dying."
"You're an immortal child?"
"Something like that," you said, already standing up and rubbing your neck. "I, in somewhat simple terms, can be sliced up, have my head ripped off, be burned, well, you get it. There might be nothing left of me, but I'll still be fully conscious of everything. Even when they give me sleeping pills, when they introduce things to make me sleep or rest, it's likeâŚ"
"Nothing works, no matter what they doâŚ" he said, looking at you as you nodded in agreement. "And how do you sleep, then? Or do you heal and regenerate?"
"No, I'm physically like a human. I feel pain, I feel dizziness, but I can't heal. I'm not like Wally with his accelerated healing, or Megan who can reshape her body by modifying it. My body is completely mortal, but my consciousness remains. So, my heart could be cut out, ripped out, it could have stopped, but I would still be conscious. I'd just need to stick everything back in place, and I'd come back, even if like Frankenstein, or a vampire, or a zombieâŚ"
He looked at you, almost frightened, before squeezing your shoulder.
"Child, how do you deal with that? That must be horrible. At least your mentor must know, right?" Noting the silence, he looked again before saying, "I'm so sorryâŚ"
"You don't have to be. I've been at this for⌠more years than I can count," you said before turning back to watch the battle.
"You're out of practice, Nabu!" Klarion's voice cut through the charged air, sharper than the clatter of rubble. A grotesque lance, twisted from visible nightmares and silent screams, descended in a purple and black whirlwind. It crashed against the runic shield that Nabuâusing your reflexes, your postureâhad conjured. The impact wasn't a sound; it was a sensation: the Tower of Fate itself groaned in its mystical foundations, ancient stones grinding like clenched teeth. "And this pathetic host body⌠zero affinity for the mystic arts! It's like piloting a rusty wheelbarrow!"
Klarion laughed, a sound like shattering crystal. Then, with an abrupt, childish gesture, he tore.
Not the air. But the very fabric of reality between them. A thunderclap of pure, cloudless, physically uncaused sound exploded in the room, a wave of force that pushed dust aside in a perfect ring. Nabu, within you, reacted with a frightening economy of motion. Your hand (your hand) rose, palm forward. Not to block the brute force, but to redirect it.
Where the invisible shockwave met the rising golden barrier, it didn't dissipate. It transformed. The air around the impact point became a frenetic kaleidoscope, sparks of every color of the spectrumâshock pink, acid green, electric blueâgushed and danced, creating a rainbow of pure energetic chaos that hissed and crackled against the ordered defense.
Klarion floated at the epicenter of the storm he'd created, his eyes wide with pure delight.
"Ooh. Rainbow power!" he hummed, swinging his feet in the air like a child on a swing, his voice a falsetto of pure malevolent glee.
The cat's meow, coming from Klarion's shoulder, was more than a soundâit was a vibration in the very fabric of reality, a tug on the chain linking the witch boy to this plane. Sharp, insistent. It wasn't encouragement. It was a warning. An urgent correction.
Klarion's smile, until then a mask of amused cruelty, cracked. He frowned, a flash of genuine childish irritation crossing his pale features.
"I am paying attention, you stupid cat!" he muttered, throwing the words at the feline like stones. The look he then turned back to Nabu, however, had lost a thread of its confidence. It was a bit wilder, a bit more forced. "In case you haven't noticed⌠I'm winning."
The window to the outside world showed the climax in slow motion: Nabu's bolt of pure Order, guided by impersonal cosmic calculation, didn't aim for Klarion, but at the sibilant black shape on his shoulder. Teekl mewled in agony, a sound that cut the air and, apparently, something much deeper within Klarion himself. The witch boy screamedânot in rage, but in genuine, primal terror. The bond was severed. Klarion's form dissolved like smoke in a gale, sucked back into the Chaos plane, his screams of fury echoing until they faded.
The tower stopped shaking. The residual chaotic energy dissipated like a bad smell. Dr. Fateâyour body, dressed in those heavy golden robesâhovered in the center of the chamber, motionless. Victorious. Unshakeable.
Inside the helmet, you watched, your tactical discovery now a grey, empty taste in your mouth. They had survived. The team was safe, the world was safe. Klarion had been banished.
And then, the question, small and fragile, formed on your spiritual lips and escaped into the void shared with Nelson.
"Uh⌠it's over, right?" your voice sounded a bit confused as you looked at the old man beside you. "So⌠why doesn't Nabu take off the helmet?"
You saw, through the window, your own hand (Nabu's hand) rise. Not to remove the Helm, but to examine the back of the gauntlet, as if inspecting a tool after use. The action was calculated, possessive.
The answer didn't come from Nelson. It came directly to your mind, resonating within the very metal of the helmet. It was Nabu's voice, no longer projected to the outside world, but inwards, to the fragment of soul that now shared your prison. The voice was calm, logical, and absolutely relentless.
"Because the Earth needs Dr. Fate."
The statement was simple. An axiom. An unquestionable fact of reality, like the law of gravity. There was no emotion in it, only absolute certainty.
"I will not release this body."
*He can't do that*âyou whispered, your spiritual voice a thread of pure panic. You turned to Nelson, pointing frantically at the vision of the helmetâyour helmetâfloating in the air, a golden shell that now housed your living tomb. *Can he? Can he do that?!*
Nelson closed his eyes for a moment, a deep pain crossing his ethereal features.
"He can," he admitted, the word heavy as a tombstone. "The Helm is his prison, but it is also his domain. The host's will⌠is secondary. Butâ" he opened his eyes, and there was a stubborn fire in them, the fire that defied fate itself for love. "âit shouldn't be. Nabu, listen to me! This isn't the right candidate! Her soul⌠is bound elsewhere! Bound by something else! Sooner or later, the connection will break, she'll be expelled from here! This isn't a permanent receptacle, it's a cracked cup. Even if she can't die, that doesn't mean she'll live!"
Nabu's voice responded, not with anger, but with an infinite, exasperating patience, as if explaining something obvious to a child.
"It is true, but I do not enjoy remaining permanently hidden, useless, and isolated for decades on end. We cannot allow chaos to reign."
"That won't happen again." Nelson's voice was firm, carrying an authority that came not from power, but from experience. "(Name) will take the helmet. And she will ensure that you are⌠well-utilized. Right?" He turned to you, his wise eyes seeking yours, offering a lifeline amidst the shipwreck.
"Ah, yes," you nodded in agreement.
Nelson smiled, a small, sad, but genuine smile. He turned back to Nabu.
"And in the meantimeâŚ" he said, shrugging with a lightness that seemed impossible under those circumstances, "I'll stay here. Keep you company. One old ghost for one old lord of order. We must have much to talk about regarding the good old days⌠and the not-so-good ones."
The declaration made your brain (or what was left of it) freeze.
"W-wait," you stammered, looking at Nelson. "What about your ascension? What about⌠Inza?"
Nelson's expression softened, a profound peace washing over his features.
"Relax," he whispered, as if sharing a sweet secret. "I'll spend a few millennia here, then I'll go see Inza." His smile became almost mischievous. "That's the great advantage of eternity, my child. It is⌠eternal. A delay of a few millennia is like a sigh between old friends. I can wait. She will understand."
The offer was monumental. A sacrifice of long-awaited peace, made out of compassion. So that you wouldn't be alone.
Faced with that silent generosity, Nabu seemed to consider. The void around them seemed to weigh the proposal.
"The arrangementâŚ" the Lord of Order's voice echoed, "âŚis acceptable."
"Listen, child, you have a bright future. You should be having fun with your friends, but from what I noticed, you barely speak to them properly."
"You're angry, I understand. I've felt that too. But you know, sometimes things are better if you just let yourself go."
"Let myself go?" You looked confused at the man. How did he know so much? Maybe he really was much more magical than everyone thought. As if reading your mind, or your face, he approached, placing his hand on your shoulder.
"I have some advice. Feeling anger can be easy and all, but so is ignoring it. So why not take life a little more lightly? Nothing is going to end just like that, or at least not while you're enjoying it properly. The best things are the simplest. Like a date."
"No, thanks. All the relationships I've had have already shown me enough to know I'm fine as I am."
"Is that so? Well, I may not know what happened to you, but I know enough to know that sometimes loneliness can be a bit bad. Try to have fun, even if by yourself. Spending eternity can be fun if you have someone. And I'm not talking about that magical animal of yours, who, honestly, is much worse than Klarion."
The silence was quite heavy, until the old man placed his hand on your shoulder, smiling as he said, looking into your eyes.
"Try to live," he said, and the words were simple, but carried a weight you had never heard before. "Not because of the burden of what has passed. Not as a soldier marching to the next battle, counting the dead from previous wars."
He paused, and his gaze seemed to see through the shell of the hero, the time traveler, the prisoner, to the worn-out, forgotten core of what she once was.
"Try to live⌠for the details you've been avoiding. For the taste of food you swallow without feeling. For the warmth of the sun on the skin you treat as armor. For the stupid joke that makes no sense but makes someone laugh." He tilted his head towards the window, where the cosmic battle raged. "Even for the anger of a stubborn boy, or the clumsy concern of a colleague. Those things aren't obstacles to your mission, my child. They *are* the mission. The only one that truly matters, at the end of all lines."
He took a step back, his glow beginning to soften, as if being pulled towards a greater, warmer light.
"Open your eyes. Not just to the threats and the patterns of fate⌠but to the life that insists on happening between one moment and the next. It is fragile. It is irritating. It is gloriously imperfect. And it is the only real thing any of us have. Don't lose the only thing left for you. Don't lose your last part."
His smile was his last gift to youâserene, complete, full of a peace you could scarcely conceive.
@reeyy0-2Â @minimari415@reeyy0-2@katty167@lunafrisk303999@supermira247@lilmiss-me@welpthisisborin@forgotten-blues@shycreatorreview
