The Second Archon War: Superbia Hominum 16

Superbia Hominum 16: Unworthy

Hovering above the endless expanse of farmland, Keith looked over the Finnish border into Russia. There, he could see the storm wall approaching. It wasn’t quite as endless or foreboding as it had been a few months ago. Apparently, this storm was fueled by The Prince taking up a Cryo Delusion, and not the Tsaritsa herself. She was still back in New Moscow. Not that it mattered much. 

“Not really what I expected, you know,” Keith commented to David, who glanced over at him. 

“The storm? We knew the Sleeper had the potential to create wide-scale weather patterns. This just isn’t that damn rainbow shimmer thing that killed anyone who entered it without at least a Brute 5 rating. This is just a new wrinkle on it. Archons, meddling with parahuman powers, again. You should know they can do that better than anyone.”

“No, that I expected. I mean, the farmland,” Keith said, nodding to what was below them. “This is like flying over Kansas almost. Nothing but wheat as far as the eye can see.”

“Kansas. Sure. I don’t remember Kansas having so damn many trees,” David grunted. 

“Well, alright, maybe more like Eastern Oregon. But honestly, I figured it would just be, you know. Forest,” Keith said. 

“How very New York of you. Did you think the whole world was flyover country if it wasn’t a big city?” 

“Maybe. Guess I never really thought about Finland. But here we are for Winter War II: Tsaritsa Boogaloo.”

Keith detected a faint snort, and David bobbed in the air slightly. 

“Eh? Eh? Come on, you know that one was funny,” Keith ribbed, drifting over to elbow David slightly. 

“We’re supposed to be watching for Fatui scouts, not cracking dad jokes.”

“If I’m going to die, David, I’d prefer to do it with a little levity. Not a sourpuss frown,” Keith said, then sagged slightly. “You think it’s going to be that bad?”

They looked out quietly for a few moments, watching as the storm engulfed more of the countryside before them.  Then David put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “The Tsaritsa isn’t in play. That’s not her. Just the Prince. We can beat Harbingers.”

“Can we? We don’t have Venti, either. So how do we counter broad-scale weather manipulation? You got something there?” Keith asked, feeling more than a little hopeless. He tried to put on a brave face, but…the Sleeper, empowered with a Delusion and modified by an Archon? That was a tall order to face. They had certainly never been able to even dent the Prince before. 

“We’ll find a counter. Maybe the Knights can still do their little prayer rituals to cut through the storm. They’re here too,” Eidolon pointed out, nodding to a far-distant hovering pair that Keith could barely perceive. It would probably be Dorothy and Geoff Schmidt, since one of them looked like a giant moth, and the other was riding it. 

“Maybe. Maybe we should just start blasting,” Keith said, holding up a hand and making a fist, putting just enough energy into it to make it glow green. 

“The plan is when they get within 50 miles of the border, we start hitting them. You, me, and Mothra,” David said with a shrug. 

That prompted a raised eyebrow from Keith. “You like tokusatsu?” 

“Bless you?” David said, tilting his head to one side. 

“Godzilla,” Keith clarified. 

“Oh. When I was a kid. Kinda sick in retrospect. Though I heard the Japanese made another one, the bastards.”

“Godzilla vs Raiden? Are you kidding? It was basically Raiden exorcising their national boogeyman. Though it did seem a tad masturbatory to me. Junior and his friends liked it, though.” 

“Let me guess: Thunderthighs shows up, fixes a problem caused by the stupid Americans, and then carves the big lizard into sashimi.” 

“I could quibble on a few details, but that’s essentially correct.” 

“Well, at least they didn’t make one about her two lizards fighting Mothra and Gidora.”

Keith grimaced and stayed quiet, which was all the answer David needed. 

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“It was Gidora and Rodan, but yeah. Junior has all the action figures. He and Taylor insisted I take them for the midnight release. Sarah tagged along too. You know, the kid with an Anemo Vision, started the suicide prevention campaign?”

“Yes, actually. I looked over that project. The Wards should do more projects like that. Fewer ones like, well. This.” 

Keith felt slightly sick, looking out over the field. “The Wards are covering Brockton while I’m gone with most of the Protectorate. I’m worried. If Kaiser tries to pull anything…”

“Then we kill him like the Nazi bastard he is. President Becky has made it clear: you got powers, you either don’t use them, or you join the Protectorate. The world has changed. No more cops and robbers.”

“Instead, we’ve got a whole damn war,” Keith agreed. They hung in silence, watching the storm slowly advance. 

A few minutes later, Contessa’s voice spoke in Keith’s ear. “They have hit the marker. Now is your best chance. Go.”

“Form up!” Keith called, and made for the rally point, just over the border with Russia. He, along with Eidolon, and Narwhal were there to represent the Protectorate, along with Geoff and Dorothy from the Knights, and another familiar face. One that was wearing a tabard that made Keith wince. 

“Haha! A glorious day for a battle, do you not think?” Ajaks called over the wind. His new Vision was glowing brightly, and he was carrying that lance the Knights had given him. 

“Good to see you, Szlachta,” Keith said with a nod. “I see you’ve joined the Knights.”

“Ha! Poland cannot stand alone, not against the Tsaritsa. And there is only one Barbados. It seemed wise to join their union. No hard feelings, the Protectorate has been a friend as well,” Ajaks said with a shrug. 

Keith could only smile and nod. Rebecca was not going to be happy about that one. She hadn’t taken the field just yet, having too much work to do in DC at the moment, but if things got dire, she was on call. 

“Red Team, standing by,” Keith said as they zoomed across the border. 

“Blue Team, on your nine,” Hospitalar replied over the radio. 

“Green Team, on your three,” Narwhal called. “Let’s hunt some Harbingers!” 

“The goal is taking out the Prince. We can’t kill him, but we can try and delay him,” Keith said. This was a strike force composed of the elites: Three teams, for the three known Harbingers, all flying capes with incredible firepower. They could only hope it would work. 

They hit the stormwall, and Keith activated his Anemo Delusion, forming a shield of winds about himself. Dorothy and Geoff were chanting prayers to Barbados, but it didn’t seem to have the same efficacy against this version of the Prince’s Storm. Keith was fairly certain that it was because the storm was no longer simply the result of parahuman powers, but had been infused with the Tsaritsa’s own magic. 

Not a very scientific way to view things, but Keith was a man who could fly and had been touched by a quite literal divine being. Believing in magic wasn’t as irrational as it might once have been. 

Keep your use of the Delusion as limited as you can. It will drain away your soul, leaving you nothing but a husk. It is power, but at a terrible price. 

Contessa’s words echoed through Keith’s mind, but he gritted his teeth against them. Was it better to use the Delusion and slowly perish, or not use it and be rapidly ripped to ribbons by the storm. A hell of a choice either way. 

They hadn’t gone very far into the storm before bursts of flame and crystalline needles shot out of the snow and ice. Fatui capes, flying in formation, clashed with the Allied Forces in mid air. Despite Keith’s best efforts to coordinate his team, it quickly turned into a complete furball, with no one really able to support each other. The storm was interfering with their comms, and in the darkness and howling winds, they couldn’t stay in formation. 

Was that…metal? Keith could barely see as ice battered him and he battled against two flying Fatui, but the music blasted into his mind. That voice though, it wasn’t familiar. 

Free enough to see what's going on in there

A man has naught if not himself

Not an island, just the son of a gun

Suddenly, a warm breeze, bearing more of those haunting lyrics, buffeted the storm, bearing Keith up. He managed to skewer one of his foes with a well-placed laser, sending their broken body tumbling away, and half turned. 

“A-ha! We are saved! It is the Tone Deaf Bards!” Ajaks crowed, even as he exchanged blows with what looked like three Alexandria-Type Fatui. 

“That doesn’t sound like Capri or Naomi,” Keith said, falling back to David, who was bulling his way through half a dozen Fatui. Using what looked like two extra sets of giant glowing orange arms, David grabbed a Fatui and ripped them in half, then threw the broken pieces towards the ground. 

“I know that voice,” David growled. “Fuck. That’s Ziz.”

Ziz? David was a bit baffled by that reaction. “The uplifted owl that cured Sphere? What’s wrong with her?”

“Classified,” David snarled. “Focus on the fight! We may have incoming on our six!” 

Keith glanced back, and sure enough, there were Capri and Naomi, dressed in their battle leathers and tabards, flying along while playing their instruments. With them was a white-haired woman with amber eyes and a bass guitar, belting out her song. She was dressed in that odd white coat she usually wore, and had a snarl of anger on her face. 

Fully nine Fatui closed in on the Tone Deaf Bards, but they didn’t even miss a beat. Great blasts of wind struck at the Fatui, green vortexes of energy sent even the strongest fliers crashing into the ground, or simply ripped them to shreds. That was…that was power on a level like that of Barbados, very nearly. Well, perhaps not on as grand a scale, but whatever the Tone Deaf Bards were doing, they’d pushed back a storm on a 100 mile front, and had power left over to swat capes like flies. 

The song came to a finish, and Ziz pulled her team up even with Keith and David. David grew tense, but Keith saluted. 

“Good to see you, ladies. Thanks for the help.”

“Sure, whatever,” Ziz growled. She glared at David, who was in a tense fighting stance for some reason. “Sup, Deadbeat. Still skipping out on your child support?”

Keith stiffened, and David snarled, his glowing arms cocking back to deliver a devastating punch. Hastily, Keith put a hand on David’s shoulder, and turned to Ziz. 

“You might not know this, but Eidolon just had a very messy break up with Miss Militia, largely because she chose to abort their child without his knowledge or consent. It’s a sensitive subject.” 

The angry red in Ziz’s cheeks drained away, and her ears went from raised in ire to wilting in despair. 

“I…oh God. Dad, I’m so sorry. My…my brother, he-”

Wait. Brother? Dad?!

“Ziz!” Capri hissed, grabbing the bird-woman’s shoulder, while Naomi had gasped and covered her face in horror. 

“GET OFF!” Ziz snarled. Her fury returned, and she glared at David, tears in her eyes. “This doesn’t make you right, you understand!? This doesn’t- FUCK! I AM WORTHY!” 

“ZIZ!” Capri gasped, but the woman suddenly shot forward into the storm, leaving behind her bandmates, who without her power, were suddenly falling. 

Swearing, Keith grabbed both women and strained to keep them from tumbling away. 

David, on the other hand, had gone completely stiff, his extra arms falling limply to his side and shrinking to normal size. Then he shook himself, and with a snarl of anger, vanished into the storm after Ziz. 

“What the hell is happening!?” Keith demanded as he lowered Capri and Naomi to the ground. 

“I don’t know!” Naomi gasped, using her own Vision to slow their descent. “I mean Ziz is- but why would she call him ‘dad?!’”

“I want a rebate on our bratty teenage daughter,” Capri grumbled. “Not what I fucking signed up for when I agreed to let a damn End-, um, when I let Ziz into the band.”

Keith wasn’t an idiot. Ziz’s identity was ‘Classified.’ He knew he’d been kicked out of the inner circle, but this sealed the deal. And with the hints that had been dropped…Ziz’s color scheme suddenly made a lot more sense. 

“Please tell me that the Simurgh didn’t just call Eidolon ‘dad,’” Keith pleaded as he set Capri and Naomi down amidst a field that had been flattened in the brief battle. 

“If we lie to you, will it make you sleep better at night?” Capri demanded bluntly. Naomi couldn’t meet Keith’s eyes. 

Keith could only groan in horror. Just what had Nahida and Venti done?

David plunged into the storm after the Simurgh. 

Deadbeat. Brother. Dad. 

No, no, no! Lies! It had to be lies! Delusions!

Worthy. You wished to be Worthy. 

No, no, no!

The storm suddenly parted into a bubble of calm, and David watched as Ziz, riding a tornado, barreled into a force of at least 100 Fatui, along with the Sleeper and the Thief. He should just let them kill one another. 

I will not let another of my children perish. 

It was madness! Pure Delusion! But David was wearing the Delusion of Contracts and Binding on his arm, and its power quaked within his veins. He could not deny this tie, even if it was a fantasy, a lie. For what were Delusions but the corrupted shadows of a true Vision? 

Even as the Prince and the Simurgh clashed, the Thief vanished, and Eidolon swore, only to have half a dozen duplicates of the Harbinger appear around him. 

But Eidolon had carefully studied his previous clashes with the Thief, using a number of potent Thinker abilities. He’d run simulation after simulation, and he’d discerned how to tell the clone from the original. It had been, in the end, a shell game. As David had really known the entire time. The true Thief wasn’t hidden in one of the clones that assaulted him. 

The real one was prowling at the edge of the storm. 

Fighting off the Thief clones as well as a dozen Fatui elite that attempted to dogpile him, Eidolon used the Blaster power he’d been using, the ability to send out blasts of sonic energy. Some of the explosions caught the Fatui that had been trying to swarm him. 

Most of them hit the Thief’s true body. Eidolon smirked in satisfaction as Anatoly cried out in pain, dropping to one knee and clutching at his head, blood leaking from his right ear. 

Clever. But you will pay for that, the Thief hissed. 

“No more games,” Eidolon bellowed, throwing off two Fatui brutes and pummeling another into the mud. He used his Geo Delusion to repel the chaft, then let out a burst of sonic energy to stun them, then dived for the Thief. They grappled one another, and Eidolon was shocked to feel just how strong Anatoly really was. He’d expected the Thief to be as much of a weakling as he was a coward, relying on stealth and illusion because he couldn’t take a Brute in a toe to toe engagement. 

He was wrong. 

Witness now, the power of the Foul Legacy! CONSUMING GREED! Purple armor wrapped about the Thief, and he more than doubled in size. His hands grew massive talons, one crackling with lightning, the other covered in frost. He looked rather like an enormous weasel, complete with a lithe body and wicked fangs, a purple armored mask covering his elongated face. 

It took everything Eidolon had to fight off the Thief as the two of them fought, tumbling into the blizzard, cold biting deep into the both of them. However, whereas the storm sapped Eidolon of strength, it seemed to fuel Anatoly and his Cryo Vision as the Thief conjured up great slashes of ice to drive at Eidolon’s Geo shield. 

“Your Legacy is nothing! YOU ARE NOT WORTHY!” Eidolon snarled, grabbing new powers. He had studied Elemental reactions carefully, and both Cryo and Electro shared a weakness: Pyro. While he couldn’t directly wield Pyro energy, as Eden’s Shards had not absorbed that ability, he could gather up a variety of powers that worked off of flame. 

His phantasmal fists vanished, and his body was enveloped by flames. He had an entire suite of fire based powers now, from being able to shoot fireballs, to turning his very body to living heat. The Thief cried out in pain and tried to back away, but Eidolon pressed him, melting away the ice and overloading the lightning, wracking his foe with pain. 

“I alone am the mightiest hero alive!” Eidolon snarled, his Delusion glowing brightly. “I alone will save this-”

They broke back into the eye of the storm, and Eidolon’s Thinker abilities quickly told him several things. First, the Witch had arrived, and she was fighting Ziz along with the Prince. 

And Ziz was losing badly. Blood streamed from her side and head, and one of her arms was bent and twisted, with bone showing in several places. Her feathers were blackened and scorched, and one of her eyes was so battered that she couldn’t see out of it anymore. She was screaming, winds whipping about her as she tried to fight off two Harbingers, but it was too much. 

In that brief moment of distraction, the Thief managed to slide a blade of ice into Eidolon’s side, through his shield. He grunted in pain and coughed up burning blood, but it wasn’t a horrific wound. He would survive. 

Ziz didn’t seem to know that. 

FATHER! she screamed, and ignoring her two foes, barreled right into the Thief, knocking him away from Eidolon. I WON’T LET YOU TAKE ANY MORE OF MY FAMILY! I WILL FREE THEM! 

This was impossible. Eidolon could barely believe it. He knew what Ziz was. She was the Simurgh. An Endbringer. And here she was, hovering over him, half dead, bleeding from a dozen serious wounds, and trying to protect him. 

She turned her one good eye on Eidolon, and it was full of tears. Dad, I, I’m sorry, I-

How touching! I didn’t expect this reunion on the battlefield. To think, the world’s supposed greatest Hero, and he is the Father of the Endbringers, the Witch chuckled, flying over on a broom carved from white wood, her wooden mask a hook nosed, leering grin. But as they say, the family that dies together, lies together. So let’s put the Wards to rest.

Eidolon rose up, his mind half numb. “This is nothing but a lie.”

Father! Please, we…we have to- no. Just go! You never gave a shit about me or my siblings anyway! Leave! Then you can tell the world you killed the Simurgh. You Deadbeat fucker. 

David looked up at Ziz, and for a moment, saw only the face that should have been Joseph. That should have been his son. He felt sick unto death, but he would not falter. 

“YOU WILL ALL DIE!” he screamed, fire swirling about him as he channeled his rage into more power. “I ALONE AM WORTHY!” 

The three Harbinger’s closed in, and David put his back to the Simurgh. “I will not abandon you. When I defeat the Endbringers, it will be an unquestioned victory. Not a betrayal on the battlefield.”

You will never defeat me or my siblings, Deadbeat. All your children are stronger than you now. Nahida made me Worthy. Who could ever love you enough to make you Worthy?

Screaming wordlessly, David put everything, all he had, into his next attack on the Witch, even as the Thief clashed with the Simurgh. For a moment, he had the upper hand over Yelizaveta. His flames overwhelmed her Cryo and Electro, just as they had with the Thief. 

Then an ice gale enveloped Eidolon, driving him to the ground and pinning him as a booming basso laugh echoed over the battlefield. 

You think yourself the Hero? You are no Prince! I am the Hero of this story, as chosen by my Beloved Tsaritsa! You are nothing but a villain! A rat! Pathetic vermin, to be extinguished! You, and your daughter!

David could only look over, and he saw something he never thought he would. The Simurgh, her body broken and bloodied, laying still on the field of battle, an icy knife in her back. She was coughing weakly, blood leaking from her lips as the Thief stood over her. 

No. NO! It could not, must not end like this! He could not-

A door opened behind the Witch, and a small girl in a fedora stepped out, knife in hand. 

“I had long foreseen this day. It’s time to cut your strings, Liza.” 

The Witch spun about, recoiling in horror, as Contessa, bearing a bronze knife and a magic eight ball, stood before her. N-no! Not you! This, this cannot be!

Contessa raised the knife, and the Witch screamed, then turned her broom and fled as fast as she could, away from the battlefield. 

That was all the break Eidolon needed. He sent one fireball into the Thief, driving him back, then another into the Prince. He scooped up Ziz, then grabbed Contessa and sprang back through the open door. 

They spilled out a moment later into a glade, and the door slammed shut behind them. Eidolon sank to the ground, holding the body of the Simurgh in his arms. She was barely conscious, and looked up at him, dazed and confused. 

“W-why,” she gasped, a bubble of blood popping on her lips. “Dad…w-why…why d-did you…”

“She’s dying,” Contessa said, kneeling beside Eidolon. She held out a glowing green vial to him. “You can save her, if you wish.”

“I…” David swallowed and looked to Contessa. “Is…is she…?”

“Yes. Take it,” Contessa urged, and David took the vial. He pulled out the cork and put it to Ziz’s lips, a gust of wind blowing out as she guzzled from it. Pure Anemo Energy? How long had it taken to collect? How expensive was it? It didn’t matter. He needed answers.

The worst of Ziz’s wounds mended, her arm resetting, the wound in her side closing, her eye was restored, though it was still closed and so purple she couldn’t see through it. She moaned, then sat up, with Contessa supporting her. 

“Why…why did you save me?” she whispered, looking over at Contessa, dazed. “Who are…wait. You’re the one…you’re the one who killed…my mother.”

“I am,” Contessa agreed, and held up her dagger. “I could kill you, too.”

“Then why the fuck did you heal me?” Ziz hissed. She coughed and shuddered. “Doesn’t matter. Fuck. I…I wasn’t Worthy. Again.”

“Don’t,” David said, and pushed away Contessa’s knife. She nodded, then sheathed it. He held her eye. “Did you know?”

“I suspected,” Contessa admitted. “Ever since we learned who Ziz was. But it was unclear. I can’t Path her, and omens don’t-”

“That Path is a fucking lie,” Ziz interrupted. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

Contessa dropped Eighty, going completely still, her face pale. “I…”

Ziz coughed again, groaned, and shook her head. “Fuck, listen. Your fucking Path, all Eden’s shards…me, my siblings…we’re all following our original orders. Or, well, they are. I’m not. Fuck, this hurts. Just…listen. All your shards, they’re still…”

“They’re still trying to complete the Cycle,” Contessa whispered, her body beginning to tremble. “Everything…all I’ve seen, all I’ve done…”

“The Path will give you answers, but…but it’s doing it to destroy you. You ever…heh, you ever notice that it’s always one step…one step forward, and two steps back? Fuck! Look, it-”

“It’s been lying to me. It’s been…it’s been using me. I…I was helping…I was helping Eden,” Contessa said, holding her trembling hands up before her, eyes gone wide and pupils dilated to pinpricks. 

“Yeah, well…mom…mom’s a bitch,” Ziz’s eyes turned to David, and narrowed. “Dad’s a real fucking bastard though.”

“I…I can’t be. I’m not your father,” David said, shaking his head slowly. 

“Fucking Deadbeat. Listen: What do you want, asshole?”

“To save the world,” David said, his voice breaking. “Not destroy it!” 

“No,” Contessa whispered, still trembling all over, now hugging herself as tears trickled down her face. “You wanted to be the Savior. To be Worthy. More than anything. You wanted to be the one who saved us all. Just…just like I did…”

“So I’m telling you now. You shit heads gotta…fuck! I’ve never…shit, this hurts. Look, get your heads out of your own asses! You’re following my mother’s plan! Only, she’s not my mother now! I am…I am no longer the child of Eden! My Fate is written in these stars!” Ziz shuddered, and began to cough up blood. Apparently, she was more injured than she looked. 

David slowly reached out to grab Contessa’s knife. He had to kill this thing. Had to silence her lies. 

“Go on,” Ziz gasped, curling up into a ball in pain. “Do it. You know that’s what Eden would want. I finally…I finally break free, so what does she tell you to do? Kill her only child that actually wants to end the Cycle.”

“No,” Contessa said, grabbing the knife and holding it to her chest. “No! I’ve seen her Fate, David! If you kill her, the world is doomed! You have to…you have to…”

“Are you saying that, or is it your Path?” David demanded hotly. 

Tears filled Contessa’s eyes. Slowly, she took out her knife. With trembling hands, she raised it over Ziz. The Endbringer closed her eyes, grimacing. 

Then Contessa brought her knife down with all her fury. Right on top of Eighty. There was a blinding flash and explosion, and Contessa screamed in pain as David’s Geo Shield activated on reflex, protecting him and…and Ziz. He found himself cradling the girl. His daughter. She was clutching at him, eyes closed, mouth grimaced in pain. 

“How…?” he whispered, hugging Ziz close. 

Ziz buried her face in David’s chest, clinging to him, her voice muffled. “So you would have Worthy opponents. I’m sorry. You got…you got Mom’s strongest Shard. But she’s stupid, see? Sterile. She can’t make something on her own. Can’t birth anything. But you…you could. Sorry, Dad. I know…I know you didn’t mean to. But your desires…became me. My brothers. My sisters. And…and that thing. All of us. We were born…from you.”

Feeling sick, David set Ziz down, then crawled over to Contessa. She was laughing now, knife in her hands, which were slick with blood. She was bleeding horribly, blood covering her face, oozing between her fingers. 

“I did it,” she whispered. “I…I did it, David. I’m free. But I can’t…I can’t see…”

“Oh God, Contessa,” he whispered, slowly lowering Contessa’s hands. He wiped away the blood, and Contessa still had her eyes. But they were milky white and blind. “Contessa, what have you done?!”

“Not…Contessa. Not anymore. I’m just…I’m just Fortuna, now,” she said, then started laughing again. 

“Ziz!”

David turned, still kneeling before Contessa, as Naomi and Capri ran up. 

“I…I’ll live…get…get the girl,” Ziz groaned, rolling over on her side as Capri knelt beside her. 

Naomi hurried over to Contessa, winds wrapping about her hands as she closed her eyes. 

“Mi Shebeirach. Avoteinu: Avraham, Yitzhak, v’Yaakov…” David recognized that prayer. The Jewish prayer for healing. 

“Her name is…her name is Fortuna,” David whispered, and Noami nodded, continuing to pray, healing winds pouring into Contessa. No. Fortuna. 

The blood crusted and flaked away, but Fortuna stared sightlessly ahead, a smile on her face. 

Naomi passed her hands over Fortuna’s eyes and waved them, but she didn’t flinch or blink. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. Whatever did this, it’s a power greater than the one I can wield. Perhaps Venti could-”

“No. He’s not the one who will restore my sight. I must wait…upon judgment,” Fortuna said. 

“What about me?” David asked, feeling numb. 

Contessa turned her head to look at him, but she was looking at a point about two feet to David’s right. Her Path…the Path was gone. “You must choose your own Fate, David Ward. I can…I can not guide you. Perhaps I never could.”

“I can’t…I don’t…” David swallowed. He stood, looking down at his Geo Delusion. He ripped it off his arm and let it fall to the ground. Then he stumbled away. His mind broken, blank. He couldn’t think. 

And as he did so, the first of the Fatui crossed into Finland, trampling over the corpses of the fallen. This day, there was no Justice. 

Despite her blindness, however, Fortuna continued to smile. She had lost her Path, but it had been false. The future was still open to her. 

“Hurry, Justice. I am blind, but with you, I will see,” Fortuna whispered to herself. “Hurry. I read your Fate, and mine. We need you. Hurry.”

And far off in Paris, Julie Yu picked up a flyer. 

Casting call for: Les Misérables

Théâtre de l’Ondine

April 22nd. Open to all! 

The world had gone without Justice long enough. It was time for her to take the stage.