Behind Blue Eyes

luinnaur‌:

When Miranda took his hand and scolded both he and herself, Ciaran moved his hand to cup her cheek and managed a soft smile. “Please…we both know you could have never kept me away.” Then Aedan made his futile attempts to save him; Ciaran could feel the energy flowing into him and flushing right back out, and it was only then that he truly knew it was too late. The last push gave him something that managed to stick, but he knew it wouldn’t be much longer and finally got Aedan to stop. The defeat that slammed into his brother all at once was almost enough to break him and bring on the tears, but at least someone here had to keep it together, at least for their sake if not his own. He rose a hand to his big brother’s cheek as well shaking his head. “Not my fault you were late to the party.”

That’s when it hit him that there were others who were not in attendance, and if this truly was to be his last moments he could not go without at least saying goodbye-and to some that he was sorry-. Then Adrian, darling Adrian said what was on his mind before he could even speak it, though he added, “and Zoe and Oonagh…it’d be in poor taste to just run out on them like this…” 

Miranda gave a watery smile at his refutation. No, he was too stubborn not to help. If only he was too stubborn not to die. Three thousand years was a pretty long time. His brother might have actually been too stubborn to let him die, though. His effort had spectacular and impressive consequence, but not the result he wanted.

…didn’t Ciaran say he had two brothers?

She looked up at Adrian as he stopped beside her. Of course. Nobody should miss this, especially… but Ciaran had already thought of that too. Sniffling, Miranda nodded and let go of his hand, disappearing with a soft pop. She pounded on Zoe’s door before simply letting herself in, calling out as she searched for the woman. She didn’t offer much explanation— “Ciaran needs you, get the baby”— before bringing her back to the others.

Then she was off again, finding Sean not where she left him but conveniently with Brandon. She might have looked a fright, appearing suddenly between them covered in dirt and oddly coloured blood with clean streaks where tears had smeared her cheeks. It likely gave an immediate answer for how things had gone once Sean had been sent back. 

“I love you, I’m sorry, we have to go now,” she said, grabbing both of them by the arm and taking them back. The surroundings had improved in ambiance a little, but only aesthetically. The mood remained dour, and it was unlikely to improve.

Sean had come back to a flurry of panicked texts from Brandon and decided the only thing he could do was meet the kid somewhere. At least they could be useless together. Except Brandon wasn’t completely useless and most of their time in the park near the Ross mansion was taken up with Sean quelling panic attacks brought on in his brother by little mini-spurts of visions.

But when Miranda showed up, precognition really wasn’t needed.

A mournful “No...” was all Brandon got out before they both reappeared in the desert, looking less like a desert now. Sean had been here only an hour ago. Brandon had been seeing this place for longer. Neither of them recognized the guy kneeling at Ciaran’s side, but the family resemblance and grief on his face answered that question pretty quickly.

At first, Brandon wondered what all these hyper-powerful people were doing standing around instead of helping. Then, slowly, he realized what that meant. He started to warble an apology, but Sean tugged him close to his side hard enough the kid swallowed it and coughed it back up as tears.

tellurianwitch‌:

luinnaur‌:

toextinguishtheflame‌:

Despite the swell of triumph he felt at finally fulfilling his promise of revenge from all those years ago, his opportunity to savor the feelings was exceedingly short lived. His could feel that the creature he’d unleashed was devoured, and his head snapped up at the thunderclap just in time to see Aedan land nearby. With his task completed, he saw no reason to linger when there were so many people now so singularly focused on him, and he quickly sank back into a portal to leave the area. Once he was gone, the darkness that had permeated the desert at last dissipated.

He could feel Aedan long before he heard or saw any sign of his older brother, and the firs thing to cross his mind was ‘Maan, he’s gonna be so maaaad.’ He still managed a weak smile at the threat that had Vitomir turning tail and running, and he looked over at the eldest Macdohmnaill with that smile still on his face. “Never a boring entrance with you, huh?” The wound he’d suffered didn’t hurt so much anymore, and some part of him knew that was a bad sign, but he tried to keep his focus on the moment and sticking to it. He didn’t want to think about how he wouldn’t see his kids, both those present and not, grow up to their full potential. He tried not to think about all the things he still had yet to accomplish himself, for all his years. Instead he just tried to focus on the fact that at least everyone he loved was safe; he’d managed to do that much right, at least.

Miranda set Adrian back on his feet and shuffled to her sensei, collapsing to her knees beside him, chest aching. Fuck Vitomir for the moment. She grasped Ciaran’s hand in both of hers, tears already slipping down her cheeks. She couldn’t do anything. All the power in the world and she couldn’t save him. “You old fool,” she murmured, squeezing his hand. “I never should have let you help me.” If she had sent him away after digging up Sean’s body, he wouldn’t have overexerted himself. He would have been able to fight Vitomir off.

Her breath hiccoughed, and she held his hand to her lips.

Áedán could almost hear the squeak of a mouse as Vitomir vanished. If Ciarán were even a tiny bit more stable, he might’ve just given chase then, reached his arm into that portal and dragged the kid out by his hair. But Ciarán’s energy was so weak, sometimes he thought it wasn’t there at all, and he darted across the space between them in a blink, on his knees and already pulling obsidian up from the cracked ground to slice open one palm and press it over the grievous wound.

Blood of my blood.

He closed his eyes, the chant—as always—sounding like their father’s voice in his head. The first healing spell he’d ever learned and the only one he’d ever needed. It was the basis of all others, even soul magic. Blood. Primitive and reliable. He pushed his own energy into Ciarán’s through the unbreakable bond of their shared DNA. And when it didn’t take, he didn’t pause, simply cut open his other palm and pressed it to the earth beside them, pulling geological power into him and passing it through. 

You’re the eldest, Áedán. I have no inheritance to give you beyond what you already have. Except this: protect your brothers.

He opened his eyes as they lightened from dark chocolate to tawny to molten gold. And still, nothing. For all the sparks he kept striking, there was no more kindling inside Ciarán to catch it. There was nothing. And little brother just smiled weakly up at him, his hand resting over Áedán’s over his mortal wound.

“Mo dheartháir…”

Ciarán’s voice was so quiet, but it fell like a dropped anvil and Áedán stopped pulling. Stopped everything, his head dropping low, breaths shuddering not with effort but with grief. For a half mile in every direction, the blank half-frozen desert had become a lush meadow, pure lifeforce drawn up from deep below the dormant surface. And Áedán’s hands still pressed to his little brother’s chest and the spongy grass.

“Blood of my blood,” he choked, then laughed to keep from sobbing. “I’m supposed to be there when you do stupid things.”

At first, Adrian tensed for another fight—sword or no sword—at the presence of this stranger, especially when he started pumping out levels of power even an utterly human ex-Watcher could feel. But he recognized the dialect of Gaelic enough to understand.

If Ciaran’s descriptions and stories were anything to go by, this was probably the older one. And Adrian thought of Brandon. And Sean. He’d always consider himself the older, even though they called themselves twins now. And he’d stood over enough battlefield deathbeds to know what was coming. 

His hand rested on Miranda’s shoulder. “How fast can you get Bran and Sean back here?”

luinnaur‌:

toextinguishtheflame‌:

Vitomir’s frustration only grew as the little cadre of interlopers proved themselves more and more formidable, and he was baffled by how the longer bookworm he knew had managed to dupe a group that would fight so fiercely for his sake. It just didn’t make sense to him that so many people would be willing to risk their lives for his, and that inability to comprehend it only served to further fuel his rage. With each strike of his blade that was parried away with a shield or sword, the more furiously Vitomir struck back to attempt to overpower it. He picked up his speed and power and found Ciaran infuriatingly ready to match. Before long they  both had become little more than streams of energy, clashing and breaking apart at insane speeds, with Vitomir noting he was beginning to lose ground.

At first things had seemed so serious and dire, but as his incantation from earlier continued to do its work and he gained ground on Vitomir-with no small amount to help from Trevor making his father so damn proud-he found himself grinning from just being able to take part in such a good fight. He took his time and landed several blows past Vitomir’s defense, leaving his mark but not yet eager to go in for the kill and end it all. For just a moment he was able to step outside of himself; away from the horribly twisted thing that had become of he and Vitomir’s relationship, away from the terrible creature that had been manifested in that hatred, away from his kids struggling and scraping by. For just a moment he was power and it felt good to ride that high again for the first time in centuries. He’d known it was a risky move to completely do away with the barrier between soul and body; to multiply his power by several more times than he truly had the capacity to hold anymore, but it didn’t matter. In that moment, he was free, he was alive, but only for a moment.

Then, like a balloon popping when filled with too much air, all at once the fires of his power burned themselves out, and he went from moving at breakneck speeds with perfect control to barely being conscious and his power evaporating as though never there at all. This sudden ceasing to be rippled through what he’d shared with Adrian and Trevor, and it did not go unnoticed as Ciaran felt icy cold and searing pain pierce his abdomen and work its way up his torso. His gaze dropped down and he found himself impaled on Vitomir’s blade, the initial area of impact frozen over with the ice quickly spreading. Then he was being thrust at the ground and slammed into it, leaving a small crater in his wake as he looked up to see Vitomir standing above him with cuts all over him but an all too satisfied grin on his face. 

It was hard to focus, harder just to stay awake, but his thoughts immediately went to worrying about what would happen to his kids if he couldn’t stand to defend them. 

Miranda managed to punt the thing into the side of the crater, giving her enough time to inhale and for floating shields to pop up around her as it came back with a barrage. Thanks, Trev. His work was high quality and her enemy’s aim was… dwindling in its accuracy, even as it launched towards her. 

“Little annoyance,” she hissed, voice cutting through the air like a razor through porcelain. She gathered herself, drinking in power until she could feel her atoms, and opened a hole in her array of shields to let it in, the shadows around her growing and meet it head on. She caught it like a web, surrounded it completely, feeling it batter against her insides… and crushed it, ripping with claws and teeth until there was nothing left but fullness in what should have been her stomach.

And… lacking. But that wasn’t here; it was on the surface world. Something was very wrong. Where there should have been the bright blue light of her teacher stood a dwindling glow, flickering as it shrank.  

She ripped herself out of her shadow, heavy black mist trailing after her. No… Her feet launched her forward, trailing black and gold and orange ichor from her mouth and hands, midnight blue and black veins and shadows creeping over her skin, but then she shot upwards instinctively. Something was falling, and it needed to not hit the ground. Arms outstretched, swooping down to lessen the force, the weight sending her back the ground, landing in a cloud of dark fog that shot up and billowed outward.

Trevor’s teeth were grit so hard he couldn’t feel the pain in his jaw anymore. He hadn’t blinked in what felt like full minutes, but in the end he just couldn’t keep up with the two duelists. Even with the extra magic in him, even with everything he pulled in from the air around him, his eyes were only human and they were moving like gods.

But his eyes were wide open to see the killblow and he screamed. A word vaguely like “no” but with a few extra vowels, extended into something shrieking, disbelieving. Leela gave a protesting yowl of her own as she was ripped disjointedly backward into the warlock’s arm as Trevor scrambled up, fell to his knees, crawled a few feet, and staggered back to his feet, running straight for his impaled father and the man standing over him. Not knowing what he was going to do when he got there, but feeling like every line of ink on him had caught on fire and he just didn’t care.

Adrian felt the power leave him like a solid gutpunch in a barfight, and almost immediately began to plummet back to earth. It was strangely peaceful, freefalling. In the rush of survival instincts and panic fear, his higher-brained functions had no time to register. He couldn’t lock anything into his memory, couldn’t draw conclusions from the sudden withdrawing that felt like the end of his da’s hugs for some reason. He was just falling. Chaotic and tumbling. Screaming. 

luinnaur‌:

toextinguishtheflame‌:

They were all fighting so annoyingly hard and it all hurt. He hand’t expected them to be able to mount such an effective offense and some part of him scolded himself for underestimating them so. It was an oversight he would be sure not to repeat, but before he could act on that he felt the impact in his chest and a terrible pulling at his very being. He tried to resist, but he felt the boy’s blade pierce his eye-a blade all too similar to Ciaran’s, the crafty bastard-and felt his form begin to destabilize. Moments later he felt so much smaller and he was falling, careening towards the ground as he saw the massive and glorious form he’d had tumbling backwards into the sand. He screamed in anguish and rage before the sound was muffled by his own crater making impact with the ground. 

Despite the damage-and loss of its main conduit-the best maintained its form albeit reduced by half. Without Vitomir to guide it towards Ciaran, what passed for sentience settled for focus on the thing that had dared to make it feel such pain and put all its attention on Miranda, lashing out with no rhyme, reason, or pattern as it simply wanted to destroy.

As he watched his kids all be super fucking badass, Ciaran swelled with pride. They were facing something that should have been insurmountable, yet there they were, beating Vitomir back as a team. As a family. Despite knowing how dangerous it was to get too excited too early, he couldn’t help the triumphant feeling he felt when he saw Miranda manage to tear Vitomir away from the power he’d massed, taking him down a pretty significant peg. There was some concern when the power maintained a form, but he saw that Miranda had it handled and would trust her to keep it that way while the rest of them stayed focused on the primary threat. Vitomir had fallen somewhere beneath the sand and Ciaran tried his best to feel out where. “Stay sharp!” he called out, not sure exactly what state the bastard would be in, but it was a pretty safe bet he wouldn’t be happy. 

AS though seeking to prove the point, the ground beneath and around them for miles suddenly froze solid, and the sky around them went from early day with the sun beaming down on them to pitch black night, the only light coming from the three magically endowed furnaces waiting for something to hit. Then Vitomir burst out from the ground, a cry of rage echoing around them. He didn’t wast time on words; forming a sword of his own from the darkness and letting loose massive tidal waves of rolling ice and torrents of blades from the shadows at everyone. Ciaran bolted towards Adrian, knowing Trevor’s shields would hold but worried about his eldest being too far outside the bubble to benefit from such defense. He was just in time to put himself between Adrian and the attacks coming at the young man, wrapping around Adrian and letting loose an opposing explosion of flame to stop their advances. 

Despite the flames doing their job, he still took some damage from the initial impacts before he could summon them, and the two rolled along the frozen sand for a bit before Ciaran managed to push back up to his feet and cut his momentum after a short slide. He set Adrian down, ignoring the gashes on his back and giving Adrian a brief nod before running back towards Vitoimir to keep him occupied. If they were too busy trading sword strikes, there wouldn’t be time to unleash any more flashy moves.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

Miranda wasn’t sure if she had a head at the moment, but that chorused through it as she did her best to fight. It was difficult to describe what she did like this, except that it hurt, it made her dizzy, and it felt glorious. And vile and disgusting, because she could feel the edges of herself, what she had managed to rip away from Vitomir, and something that felt all too familiar in the worst way. It had all the worst parts of her past experiences without any wit or deviousness or distractibility. It had only violence, relentless and singular, and she had to kill it.

Or at least keep it from killing her friends. When the Vitomir part tried to surge back towards its body—or host, at this point—Miranda dropped into a dive and swooped after like a meteor, plowing it through the ground and back up before it could poison the land too much. When had it gotten so cold? Why was the sky so light, inverted from its actual state? She had to destroy this thing (if it could qualify as a thing) and get back to the right state of things.

Too many things.

Trevor sucked in a breath and held it, bearing down and ready to push the bounds of his shield outward to encompass Adrian, too. As soon as he saw Ciaran streak out of the bubble, though, he relaxed and let the barrier snap back down to only millimeters above his skin.

The waves of ice still knocked him around because of force and inertia, but when he got to his feet again it was unbruised and only a little dizzy. Out of breath, he watched Miranda playing what looked like death tag with oily darkness. And Ciaran had locked himself in a Duel of the Fates style swordsmanship match. Adrian had only just started getting up, also looking for a new target, eyes raw with power and the loathing that came from having to be saved at the expense of someone else’s blood.

Again.

Of them all, he’d known Adrian the longest and, as such, he had the privilege of terrifying insight that after surviving so much, the Watcher might just take this power he’d never had and burn himself out because of guilt he’d never dealt with.

I don’t know what to do.

So he rolled up his sleeve, fold-by-fold exposing the inked tigress coiled around most of his bicep. 

“I’m gonna need your help, Leela.”

He could’ve done it with a thought, but it made him feel better to talk to the inky familiar like she was a housecat. She leapt from his skin effortlessly, not the slow crawling of so long ago when he’d first attempted, but a single bound into reality that increased her size a hundredfold in a blink. Very clearly still made of ink and not fur, she still looked as though a master had painted her directly onto the air. 

Not for the first time, Trevor wished he could ruffle her ears or pet her or anything really, but he knew she’d be intangible unless her purpose was violence. So he only gave her expectant gaze a fond smile.

“Watch my back for me? I need to concentrate.”

And with a chuff, the tigress began pacing a tight perimeter around her ward, yellow-green eyes glowing, basketball-sized paws kicking up dust as she stalked and shredded anything that crossed an invisible line toward the warlock, who had sat down in the dirt, lotus style. Trevor looked for all the world like a man about to start yoga or meditation, except he kept his eyes open and his one sleeve rolled up and he watched the individual battles and the larger war. And the barrier slipped away from his skin, pooling outward, all of his energy pushed toward bolstering the defenses of his friends. 

Miniature disk-like shields sprang up with almost precognitive reaction time, peppering the air around Miranda, glancing shadow-blows away from her feverish dance, to give her less to deal with and hopefully more to focus on, to keep her grounded. Swordstrikes that would’ve crushed past Ciaran’s defenses strangely left not a scratch on his body, as if Vitomir fought with foam instead of steely darkness. 

And when Adrian sprinted at the remnants of Abaddon’s power given form, there were once again platforms for him to use, to push off at creative new angles or simply to leap higher. It took too much concentration to make them appear and disappear wherever he needed, but Trevor knew the demonologist would clock their exact locations and never forget. 

luinnaur‌:

toextinguishtheflame‌:

The moment the blade went through him, it felt like little more than a pinprick, but it was immediately clocked a threat. He knew all too well the damage Ciaran could do with that sword. His confidence was unshaken, however, even as he saw the group’s feeble attempts to mount an offense. The girl who still thought she could command the shadows as he, the child who sought to build shields instead of swords, the boy who was so pathetically weak as to make Vitomir wonder what the point of him was, and then there was Ciaran. 

The hated one stood amidst the rest; a shining beacon of fire and light that was just begging to be snuffed out, and Vitomir was happy to oblige. The tendrils surrounding his form launched down towards the group as he himself descended, aiming to wipe them all away in one fell swoop.

The flame surrounding Ciaran’s body wrapped around Boudicca, and as the shadow tendrils came rushing at them he swung the blade, releasing powerful waves of energy that sliced right through them, though Vitomir only formed more to take their place. Even so, Ciaran kept swinging; it being all he could do to defend everyone. When he saw Vitomir’s descent, however, he knew that wouldn’t be enough, so he quickly turned and slashed at Adrian. This wave of power was not meant to cut through, however, and instead wrapped around and sank into the young ex-watcher, giving him a major power boost. It had the benefits of both giving Adrian the strength fight on something closer to equal footing, as well as making him able to take much harder hits and shrug them off. Ciaran did similar to Trevor, figuring the boy would have less need of it, but they were in something of a pinch. 

He took one more big swipe, this one intended to hurt, at Vitomir’s main body. It wasn’t about to end the fight, but it at least made him dodge and bought them a few more precious seconds to brace for impact.

It took her a moment to reorient herself—being like this was like looking at the world upside down in a mirror— so she didn’t catch the first wave like she should have. Ciaran couldn’t handle that all himself, not when Vitomir had plenty of juice to work with. So she’d have to tangle with it herself.

The shadow that was Miranda surged forward under her comrades, up in front of the next wave of blasts, and through Vitomir’s form, dragging a lot of energy and mass with it, tangled together and roiling as it ripped and devoured its enemy. If it meant giving the others a chance to destroy Vitomir properly, she would reduce herself to a step above ash.

Adrian did not appreciate having unsolicited magic flung at him in any scenario, but when the beam of light hit him, it felt like putting on an old sweater he’d worn once that still fit perfectly. In a flash, eidetic memory called up images of the last time he felt this power, the damage he’d done with it, all of it good and needed unlike the destruction Abaddon had wrought through him too many times. 

It wrapped all around him as soon as it struck and his eyes shone a little brighter, the edges of him humming like a crackling guitar amp at a concert rather than the fire of Ciaran or the shadows of Miranda or the iridescent bubble skin that had begun to form above Trevor’s head.

“There you are” was all he said, muttered to himself, fixated on the clumsy titan, regripping his sword and waiting. It was all in the strategy. Every Watcher learned that an endeavor lived or died on the planning. They hadn’t much of one, but that didn’t mean he had to waste this new energy. So he watched the way it moved and he waited.

He got his opening as Miranda tore through Vitomir like a missile and Trevor finally coalesced his shield above himself and Ciaran to protect them from the remainder of the failed attack, holding up both hands to better channel his own Ciaran-flavored boost and add improbable resilience to the barrier. Later, Adrian would find the time to be proud of the badassery this scrawny awkward kid from Canada was putting out, but for now he was too occupied with putting this energy somewhere.

luinnaur‌:

toextinguishtheflame‌:

When the cage swallowed him up, Vitomir swore and flailed and wailed to try and get out, but even with the door open it all came crumbling down on top of him and left him shrouded in darkness. For all his anger at being delayed again, he found a comfort in the succeeding silence and shadow. It was then that he began to feel something reach out to him in the dark, and he welcomed it. It felt like the taste of power he’d gotten from the cave at large, but it was so much more than that and he drank it in heartily.

He’d only meant to take a bit of it, but once he’d let the power in it was not satisfied with giving a paltry sum. He could feel it filling him quickly, and just as his feeble human form was ready to pop it changed him into a more suitable container. By the time it was finally satisfied enough to let him go, his body was still shifting  skulked his way out of the cage and saw that the cave had been fully reformed, and he could see the fresh tear in space/time where his prey had run to. It seemed so tiny to him now-everything did-so he had to stretch and crack and break the window open further to make his new and glorious form fit.

What emerged from the jagged hole in reality was closer to an eldritch being of old than the man it once had been; massive black tendrils with brilliant golden energy licking off their surface like the explosions on the surface of the sun, all connected to a vaguely bipedal form that towered high enough above those gathered that they may as well have been termites in comparison. It spoke, and the sound came out as a cacophony of voice haphazardly attempting to form the same words.

“I̶͇͚̿ ̷͈̈́̓ḋ̴̬̑o̷̜̪͌͑n̶̜͙̋͂'̸̡̪̅̏ẗ̶͕̰́͆ ̵̓́͜k̶͔͈̆n̸̼͂ő̷̤̉ẁ̵͚͑ ̶̝̬̍̊e̶̮͂͘x̵̯̭̆͘ȁ̸̹̟c̸̦̝̽̈́t̴̺͗̾l̷̖̈́ý̶͔͎͌ ̸̜̻̅͆w̵̛̫͑ḫ̶͆ấ̷̲̺t̸̼̄͆ ̸͔̾́y̸̼͗͛ö̸̺̮͆ù̸̘ ̶̲̗͠t̷͔̩͆h̶̲̲̀̕ō̶͉u̸̜̕g̸̨̝̃͗h̴̤̾ṱ̴͆ ̷̛̱̯y̷̧͍̿o̸̦͌̋ͅů̵̳̊ ̴̭̹͆̃w̵̗̻̔o̸͈̿͘ȕ̶̙͔l̴̰̈́̆d̶͚̈́ ̶̭̃̆a̶̟̍̓ċ̶͉̈́c̶͇͋͠o̷̪͗m̷͚̌p̸͓͔̆l̶͚̋i̷̬͙͂ş̶̫͌̌h̵̺̏ ̶̛̺̳b̴̤̱͊ỷ̸͚͕̇ ̴̘̜́͐l̵̝̼͛̃e̸̼͚̋͌a̵̩̦͠v̵̠̘́̍i̸̜̿̚n̸̡̑̓g̸͓̈́͋͜ ̷̄̊ͅm̸̦͗ê̵͖ ̸̺́

t̶̢̮̄́h̴̗̃̚ë̵͉̭́͝ṟ̷̊͠ẻ̷͎͔,̷̣̫͋͑ ̸̗͗b̷̛̞͝u̵̹͗̊t̷̪̙̓̏ ̶̳͕̀́i̵̫͆͆t̴̤͒ ̸̹̖̌w̷̭͊̇í̸͉͇l̵̮͌͆l̶̹̭̈ ̴̠͔͗ń̵̝̫͝o̵̟͠͝t̵̼͎̂͌ ̵̘̌̀s̸͈̿̚ã̶̯͒v̸͗͜ë̸̳̲ ̶̢̝̾͝ÿ̷̖̟́o̵̗̾̆u̸̱͚͆/̵̞̓̏”

When he could finally rise to his feet, Ciaran broke contact with Trevor-both physically and with his energy transfer-and the chanting only got louder as did his glow. What he did would likely only make things worse in the long run, but if it got them through the night he could deal with that later. His power suddenly began to multiply exponentially, and it just kept going. By the time it finally seemed to stop he was practically made of light and fire, smiling at the others. The smile short lived as he could hear the cracking of the fabric of reality behind him, and he quickly waved his hands to push everyone back just in time to dodge the first tendril that came through. His eyes and mouth were wide open in horror at what Vitomir had become, but the sight only made him more glad they had not simply left to hide and let this thing run rampant.

 As he stared it down, he noticed a twinkle in the sky above and his smile returned as Boudicca came careening down, tearing through the beast and landing on the ground in front of him. What damage it had done was minimal-the thing that had been Vitomir was massive after all-but it did show that it could be hurt. He reached out and grabbed the still smoking hilt of his trusted soul sword and ran a hand down along the flat side of the blade. “Bout time you joined the party, girl.”

This was… a big mistake. All of this, start to finish. Dark eyes fixed on what used to be Vitomir, Miranda blindly patted around until she took the sword out of Sean’s hand and just as blindly pulled him down a little so she could kiss him. “Changed my mind.” Then he was gone with a little pop!

He shouldn’t see this, what she was about to do, what was going to happen. Bad enough that Trevor had already spotted it, bad enough that Adrian had to remember this. She dismissed her sword, drinking in as much power as she could hold. Still plenty of light radiating off several members of the group, ambient in the area, which meant she could cast a very long cast—three of them, in fact, two twisting into snarling shapes on the ground that would make HP Lovecraft piss himself in terror.

Miranda took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and fell back into the darkness… to let the shadows rise into their dimension.

“Miranda, no, ple—” 

He knew it was coming. He also knew there was nothing he could say to make her stop, but he tried. And then he stood back where he’d started, in Adrian’s shop next to a very concerned Beast. Like going back in time, or to a horrible alternate dimension. After a beat of silence, he swore, loud and unrestrained in the empty space, and kicked a stack of books over.

Meanwhile, back at the deathpit, no one really blinked at Sean’s disappearance. It seemed like the logical progression when faced with the deformed figure that towered over them. 

“I’m not sure this is the exact physical form you were thinking of,” Adrian called across to Miranda. 

But she’d sunk down into shadows like a cartoon character, so he took a deep breath and huffed it out, muttering to himself about things out of his league and the role of a Watcher, feeling all at once disturbingly old. Older than he’d ever planned to be. It was easier to focus on that than the familiar gold-edged solar flares licking off of the giant thing. And how upscaling his nightmares was just about the only iteration left to his imagination. So that was nice.

“So, uh, same plan?!” Trevor called to no one in particular, air humming around him, beginning to harden into the beginnings of a barrier. He had no idea how large it would need to be or which direction, but setting the groundwork for one seemed like the best option. He wasn’t a warrior, not really. He had power but no experience. 

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Ciaran was startled for a moment by how quickly Trevor was able to pump power into him, and he swelled with pride he wished he had the time to indulge and express. “But that would leave you to fight this battle for me, and I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to any of you. Especially not if if was for the sake of protecting me. No, whatever happens it will happen in the open and with me present. I’d rather none of you be here at all, but I know not one of you will hide either, so I guess we’re going to have to figure out kicking his ass here, now, and together.” 

He could breathe easy again; easier than he had since the incident, and for a time it felt almost depressingly good to have such a large amount of power at his fingertips again. He knew that it wasn’t enough, and that he couldn’t hold it for long, but he would have to make sure it lasted. As the power continued to flow into him, he began chanting a spell that he now had the time and energy to pull off something he hoped would tip the scales more in their favor. As his chanting went on, his aura flickered to life around him, and though the customary flames were there, the expected brilliant azure hue was replaced by more mundane orange. Even so, the longer he chanted, the brighter it got and he just kept going.

It would keep the lot of them out of battle until they could deal with Vitomir properly with a cluster of plans to ensure victory. It didn’t seem like that was going to happen today. She hadn’t expected Ciaran to concede anyway, but it was worth a shot. The idea that Vitomir would be willing to talk didn’t hold much hope either.

So with a sigh Miranda stood up. “He’s going to use the power that he took from the cave, which means it’s going to be ugly. I’ll deal with whatever spooky nonsense he comes at us with. You two,” she said, pointing at Ciaran and Trevor, “Can handle the non-shadow-related magic, I trust. He’s still going to have a physical form, which should slice up nicely with that.” 

She gestured towards Adrian as she turned towards Sean, expression troubled. What could he do? Beside go home and not compound his PTSD. “The second he even looks at you, I’m sending you home,” she promised. “…But until then…” She pulled her sword out of thin air and held it out to him, pommel-first. “You can use this.”

Trevor, in turn, was startled by how quickly the power went out of him, how much empty space was inside his mentor to fill. That kind of lack in vital power didn’t come from heavy damage, it came from being emptied out, like a sieve holding water. If they were anywhere else, in any other situation, he’d have demanded an explanation, have made a big dramatic scene until the sometimes taciturn immortal told him everything.

He settled for a long frowning look instead.

Adrian’s head jerked quick enough he gave himself a twinge and if anyone asked, that’s why he was grimacing. The cave. What other bloody cave could it be? He felt his stomach twist, but he hadn’t thrown up at the memories in ages now. He actually found himself looking to Sean, more concerned for the most recent victim.

Sean stood rigid, but his hands shoved deep into his pockets had begun to shake. It took him a few long seconds to get up the nerve to reach out and take the sword. He wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t hiding again. At least this time it wasn’t his hands that would be causing the pain. This time he could stand with them while they fought the bad. And because Trevor’s usual sunshine smile had gone clouded, Sean tried for one, looking around at them all. His PTSD aside, there was hardly a better group of people to have by your side in facing down danger.

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When the boys suddenly popped in, Ciaran felt a mix of horror and relief that almost gave him whiplash as his brain flipped between the two. While most of him was screaming for them to be as far away from there as possible, it was incredibly difficult to look at Adrian with that sword in his hand and asking that question without cracking some sort of smile. “If we’re lucky….still digging himself out of a dimensional tear…and plenty of rubble.”

Drawing in power had been going slowly; too slowly. “Trevor…help me pull in energy. Just like I taught you, just redirect it through you and into me. Maybe hold onto a bit of it as you go, we’re both gonna need to stock up as much as we can.”

He got back to focusing, hoping he could pull in enough before it had to start getting put to use.

Someone was coming. Too soon. Miranda drew in more power, that delicious painful hum filling her to bursting. Had Vitomir brought friends? No… too shiny, too bright. Oh, there you are. 

She let some of the energy ebb so it didn’t pull at her seams, turning in time to catch Sean and wind her arms around him. Glorious beam of sunshine. She laid her head on his chest. “You shouldn’t be here,” she murmured, and looked up at him, eyes glowing but black in the sclera. Her attention turned to their little band, Adrian with part of his soul bared and ready to tear into something, Trevor with too much good healing energy, and Ciaran…

Her chest ached. This was not going to go well. He was too weak, and Vitomir wanted him dead. None of them should be here.

Miranda pulled back from Sean, squeezing his hand, and went to crouch beside Trevor and Ciaran. “We could go,” she said softly. “There are places he could never find you.”

With his head as clear as the mountain air he’d come from thanks to months of meditation, the power draw and transfer came to Trevor as easy as breathing. The ink along his collarbones warmed faintly as its pattern served as the main conduit. Most of it chugged through his hands into his father, but some of his ink had started shifting without his conscious effort, waking up as excess power began to hum on his skin.

Sean trailed Miranda as she ended the embrace, only just now realizing he’d brought no weapons and had no powers. But he was supposed to be here, he knew that much. Even if he couldn’t argue it aloud.

“I like this plan,” he said.

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The portal was thrown open and when they slipped inside this time he made sure they weren’t going to to drop down or have a harsh landing, the two of them managing to spill out without too much fanfare before Ciaran slammed the door shut behind them. He dropped to his knees and started panting heavily, the strain of just that little tit for tat immense. It was worth it, at least, to buy them some time.

He’d brought them to a giant, empty crater at the edge of the world in a place with no one around for miles and miles. He’d been there once before, and while he was not even slightly thrilled to have returned, it was the most remote place on this plane he could think of to stage their last stand. Not wanting to waste the time he’d bought them-and figuring Miranda would very much not be in the mood for one of his quips once she realized where they were-he focus on drawing in energy from around them. Considering what had happened the last time anyone had been there, the air was still quite thick with how much residual power had been thrown around, and he knew he’d need it all and then some to even be of use.

The shadowfolk would escape the rockslide, not hampered by silly things like consistently physical forms, so Miranda didn’t worry much about that. She set her jaw when she realized where he had brought them. More bad memories. More memories that she wasn’t quite sure how to parse.

“This is hardly better,” she grumbled, arms crossed and then coughed violently, hand on her chest. The energy she had drawn in felt wrong, and it wanted to infect the rest of her system. It had to go. She had to cleanse her palette down to the soul to get rid of it, but instead of expelling it, she set to burning it out, drinking in fresh as much as she could. It would tell Vitomir where to find them if he was worth his salt, but it would also draw others’ attention.

It was only by happenstance that Sean wasn’t upstairs of Miranda’s shop when all of this went down. He’d only just started venturing out of the building and even then not for very long. But he liked having things to do, that big brain getting restless even if it was afraid as well. So Adrian had him over quite a lot. Either to the flat to play with Evie—he adored her—or to the shop to help organize or just relax among the books and attempt to talk to people in a safe place where his twin could grumpily shoo away anyone who pressed too far.

Today it was the shop, sans Evie. They weren’t open, Beast had curled up in the pool of sunlight splaying through the windows, and dust sparkled in the light. Sean had just considered suggesting he dust a bit, about to wonder aloud when the last it had been done, when Adrian’s phone chimed, buzzing a little on the counter.

The gods of chance and luck continued to play, and Adrian actually picked it up rather than ignore it. It was a lazy sort of day anyway. Maybe it’d be something interesting.

Sean watched his double read the words and stop moving. It was only an instant, but an instant emblazoned on Sean’s memory for the rest of his life. The warm sunny shop, Beast’s soft snoring, and watching Adrian’s face turn from boredom to the hard mask he hadn’t worn in years now.

He looked like a Watcher again, Sean thought.

Then Adrian was moving, grabbing his jacket, grabbing his soulsword from under the counter, not saying a word. Beast woke up with a start, but only stared, confused. Sean had a little more to say.

“Hey. Adrian, what? What is it?”

His twin paused, looked at him for a moment like he was making judgment calls, then shook his head. “I’ll be back soon.” Then he told his phone to call Trevor and went right past greetings and pleasantries. “Get to the shop. We need to go to Miranda’s.”

Now Sean stood. “Is Miranda okay? You’re freaking me out, mate.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”

Panic faded under a long-dormant temper. “You fuckin liar, just tell me what’s going on!”

Adrian sighed and held out his phone, screen outward, so Sean could read it too.

Shit is about to go down. Ciaran’s ex-best friend/ mortal enemy/serious sorcerer is here. Don’t rush in.

Trevor appeared in the middle of the shop with a little pop of pressure change, wearing his most concerned face, but obliging as always. His hair had only just grown back in long enough to begin to curl again after he’d shaved it in the monastery. Before he could say a word, Sean moved closer.

“We’re rushing in, right? I’m coming, too.”

Adrian made a vain attempt to argue, but once Trevor understood more of the details, he made an executive decision to ignore the squabbling brothers and grab an arm in each hand, zapping them all to Miranda’s loft. They could tell even before creeping down the stairs that the place was empty. Crackling with lingering dregs of a magical battle, but empty.

Adrian swore. Sean searched the whole place to make extra sure Miranda hadn’t hidden away somewhere. He found Argos cowering and whining inside the linen-closet-that-was-sometimes-not-a-linen-closet, clearly knowing it was the entrance to the safest place, but unable to unlock the door.

With two Kingsley brains on the job, it didn’t take long to work out a short list of places Miranda might’ve lured a psychopathic goth kid. Sean didn’t want to leave Argos, gaining a lot of comfort from the golden fur running between his fingers, possibly even more than the shaken animal himself. But at Adrian’s threat to really properly leave him behind this time, he let go.

It was at their second guess that Brandon’s mass text hit all their phones. He’d gotten succinct with explaining his visions, not even bothering to preface it with a greeting or an explanation.

Ciaran and Miranda. Australia, I think? Desert, definitely. Nothing for miles. Huge crater. Something bad and dark. Angry. Is that thing back?

The three men locked eyes and without a question or request, Trevor grabbed them and disappeared again. No one thought to text Brandon back. And once they appeared in a familiar spot, no one had the time.

Sean rushed to Miranda immediately, aiming for a hug the likes of which could be likened to drowning victims with their rescuers. Trevor bolted straight for the crumpled form of Ciaran.

And Adrian stared at the half-splintered, vaguely human-shaped iron cage, crimson sword hanging loose in his hand.

“Goddess, are you okay?!” Trevor exclaimed.