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Could youma eat other youma? Did it make them stronger? From the sounds coming out of the side room, Lisse’s thought brought a grim series of possibilities. None of which Halle could dwell on, as the man of the hour had arrived. And he was pissed. When somebody had a need for control, it really, really sucked to be caught by surprise and not wholly prepared. Halle could sympathize, but instead chose to feel a brief and bright piece of petty satisfaction at the man’s anger.

Sometimes the need for control was a burden you had to let go of in order to get things done, and done right. Sometimes you had to fully put your trust in others. It was easier, when it was low stakes, like a game of basketball or soccer. Harder when it was a sword swinging for tender necks. Still, Halle kept his shield where it was, moved to be nearer to it and the potential danger within the side room instead of rushing in, instead of trying to block Cahir himself.

And that trust was well placed. This was what it meant, to not be alone.

Lisse moved closer to his brother when Cahir appeared, grip on his lasso tightening and as the stag charged for the General, he began to swing his weapon, sending his own magic at him, unicorns and stags could…hopefully do some damage. If they all just…attacked at once? He was flustered, and that was great...terrifying too, because…you never wanted to fluster a beast but…that was fine. They were prepared. Their plans had worked and now they just had to kick some a**.

“We got this. Attack at once, if you can! Just…hold on if you can’t!” He didn’t know who he was really talking to, everything had erupted into chaos but…that was to be expected. Was expected.

It was fine. He was right there. Masked up. Fighting as hard as he could.

Reims saw it before it struck.

Not the acid — the thing attached to him.

For a fraction of a second, his focus locked on the youma clinging to Cahir’s back, his expression one of horror and disgust. His stomach churned hard enough it nearly broke his focus.

The head reared back, and Reims braced without thinking, gauntlet coming up as he tried to brace himself against the slick floor. He felt the pressure change in the air, felt heat rush toward him—

—and then it vanished against an unseen barrier.

The sharp pluck of strings cut through the chaos, and Reims let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Dering had his back, of course. But there was no time to dwell on it.

Reims launched himself forward again, keeping himself purposefully in Cahir’s path. There wasn’t much space between himself and everything else around him. It was too cluttered. Monitors, the desk, his friends, magic and weapons being thrown in Cahir’s direction.

His gauntleted hand tore a fistful of vines from the wall, the wet growth coming free although not without resistance. He hurled it low, aiming for Cahir’s legs, anything to trip up his footing, to disrupt the way the General and creature on his back moved together.

He then slammed his shoulder into one of the monitors, cracking glass, but managing to rip it from the wall. He drove it forward at Cahir with a strangled yell, doing whatever he could to keep Cahir’s focus.

Reims raised his gauntlet, his body already yelling at him in protest, chest heaving, as he kept himself directly in front of the General. If Cahir struck again, it would be at him.

That was fine. It would give everyone else another few seconds.

​​“Ow!”

The youma—it was a youma, right? Cynthus hadn’t ever seen one arrive like that. It clung to Cahir strangely, like it was a part of him. Cynthus hadn’t ever seen a youma do that either. But it was monstrous looking and gave off the nasty, wicked energy of one, so until they had proof to the contrary she would assume it, too, was a youma. Different from the canine ones Cahir had been using, but still dustable.

Maybe. Hopefully. ********, it was ugly. Whatever. The youma lashed out with its tail, which caught Cynthus on her right flank. She cried out and stumbled to the side, colliding with the floor hard enough to knock the air out of her.

“I’m okay,” she wheezed.

Her side ached. Maybe something broke. Cynthus couldn’t worry about that right now. (At least it wasn’t her face this time.) She had her crook. She had her friends. She was alive. She might be a healer, but she could fight if she had to. And they all had to. They were all prepared for it. They wouldn’t have come if they weren’t.

Halle was still blocking the other room, but the youma were scrabbling at his shield. Reims was still putting himself in front of the General, but he was going to end up dead if he wasn’t careful. Cynthus heard Dering playing his lute; he’d kept Reims from getting hurt, which Cynthus counted as a success, but Cahir would probably go right for him as soon as he got the chance. He’d hit the shielders first in the basement, and Dering was probably right on top of his s**t list after tricking him with the starseeds.

So they definitely needed to keep Cahir occupied. Okay. Cool. ********>,” Cynthus swore. (She happened to think even that moniker was too generous. No way did this a*****e’s mom want anything to do with him.)

With the end of her crook planted against the ground to bear some of her weight, Cynthus rose back onto her feet. As she did so, something seemed to burst within her. Light, or magic, or power. Or all three. She felt it well up, higher and brighter, until it could no longer be contained.

Cynthus knew, instinctively, what must be happening. She wanted to cheer, or thank the Code, or shout something defiant at Cahir, because here he was all alone with ugly monsters for company when she had friends to fight for and family she wanted to protect.

She satisfied herself with a wordless shriek of rage and swung out with her crook again, coming at Cahir (and the youma attached to him) from behind.


Maybe Ephesus’s shield was small; Rose was grateful for it all the same. If they weren’t fighting for their lives, she would have shown Ephesus a grateful smile.

“You’re doing great,” she told him anyway.

Rose knew how skittish he could be. Ephesus couldn’t keep the fear off his face. Panic drove him more than experience did, and he had plenty of the latter to draw from. Rose huddled close to make keeping them both safe easier for him.

Reims slammed into the monitors near them and immediately ripped one from the wall. Rose grabbed Ephesus by the shirt to pull him out of range.

“We’ll be okay,” she reassured him. Then, “Mary’s okay, too. I see him.”

They couldn’t take their eyes off Cahir. It was easy to lose track of everyone in the commotion, but Rose heard Amarynthos’ parry, saw him out of the corner of her eye. She ducked on instinct even if Cahir’s sword didn’t come right at them. The sound of Dering’s lute was a comfort she knew she could trust.

“Come on, let’s get closer to Halle and Lisse,” Rose muttered, voice a little rushed, a little breathless. She wasn’t immune to fear either, but she did what she could to control it. She had a lot to make up for after last time. “Those youma are gonna be a problem eventually.”

Swords clashing, unicorns dashing, elk smashing, and honey splashing…the room was utter chaos, and for once that was in their favor. Teleportation in a fight didn’t mean nearly as much when it was tight quarters and teenagers were determined to throw computer monitors at you. Before Halle could smile, though, he saw his shield finally begin to shudder under the onslaught of the youma next door.

There was a new bloom of power in the air, followed by a curse and a shriek. Cynthus really was at her most powerful when she was angry and letting someone know it. And as was often the case, their pieces of code and the wonders they were tied to, answered strongly to need. It happened last year facing the Hollow, too: the stronger the enemy, the stronger they had to become. He wondered if things like thunder dragons and Negaverse agents ever took it into account, that the greater their threat the more they strengthened senshi and knights. It created a grim sort of balance, didn’t it?

Banking on Cahir’s focus staying on all the many threats that were surrounding him, Halle called out, voice low, to Lisse, Rose, and Effie, “Raising the gate for a moment.”

After several beats to allow them to brace, the shield was suddenly gone and a youma the size of a great dane was leaping through the door. And flying back into the room as a boar the size of a pony charged straight in. Hurriedly, Halle resummoned the shield, trapping the youma in with the summon; but a couple still slipped through and into their midst.

With a grimace, he brought out his metallic bracelet and slipped it on.

Stirling was pleased for Cynthus, she deserved to be stronger. She was always strong with her words and her attitude, and now her power matched.

The whole…youma…bodysuit…thing freaked her out a bit, and she jerked her head, and Damh reared up, aiming a kick at the youma, trying to…unfuse the two of them, if that was really what had happened. If so…ew. Like, super ew. If not…well…still. Gross.

At this point, she felt as though she were coming to the end of her bag of tricks, and wasn’t sure what else she could really contribute. But, that was fine. She was fine. They would be fine. They were a team…or something.

Cahir and the thing on his back writhed when Yvoire’s gold struck. Reims flinched at the sound it made, but it didn’t slow him down. Cynthus came at the General from behind with a force that showed her true strength, and Reims felt a grim moment of relief that she was still standing and fighting.

When Cahir was knocked into the wall, Reims didn’t give him space to recover. He leapt forward, shoes skidding on slick concrete, gauntlet raised — and then the sword was there.

Reims barely got his arm up in time.

Metal rang against his gauntlet with a force that jolted straight through his shoulder, throwing off his footing, and sent him crashing sideways. He went down hard, shoulder slamming into the floor, the momentum carrying him straight into his friends already too close to get fully out of the way. Yvoire, maybe Stirling, a startled shout and curse told him Lyon was near too.

With hands helping hoist him to his feet, he quickly twisted himself to throw his weight between them and the next attack. Heat surged and Reims braced again, teeth gritted, gauntlet up as acid sprayed toward him. Some of it splashed past — he felt the sting burn along his forearm, his sleeve — but he remained rooted in place, twisting just enough to keep it from reaching the others behind him. There was too much happening to focus on more than one thing at a time.

Then the lights exploded.

Pain ripped through him as the electric surge tore through the room, muscles locking for a breathless moment before he hit the floor again, vision flashing white. Vines peeled free all around him, lashing and coiling. Reims sucked in a breath through clenched teeth and forced himself up on one knee.

“Enough,” he rasped out a growl. It wasn’t a command, just stubborn refusal to let Cahir best them.

Light flared as his summon tore free of the brooch at his chest, wings unfurling, chiming with kaleidoscope flashes of color. The lion launched itself at Cahir and the thing on his back, claws and momentum meant to keep them off balance, and buy them time to get their footing.

Reims dragged himself upright after that, shaking, burned, hurting, but still determined.