The Landen Village of Agio, Askavi, Kaeleer, Thursday Evening [Fandom Time]
Lucivar felt his shield quiver. It was about to go down again. Cassidy and Morton might be able to put up another one after his came down, but what was the point? They both still wore their Birthright Jewels and those were light Jewels at that. Under the constant onslaught of the Jhinka, they'd have another two, maybe two and a half hours before their Jewels were drained, too.
Even if Aaron and the others showed up now, it was doubtful they'd be able to do much to turn the tide of the battle. Six thousand Jhinka, even lacking Craft as they did, were just too damn many.
No, better to save their strength. Maybe between the combined strength of all of Karla's friends, they'd be able to escape.
He spared a thought for the young male, Ender, who'd had a plan that might hopefully get them out of all this. Idly, he wondered if it would have worked, indeed, if it could work still. If he would have a chance of pulling it off before Lucivar's Craft failed, if he could somehow pull it off at all.
Maybe. Still, it was a slim thread to rest all their hopes on. Lucivar couldn't rely on 'maybes,' not when his Queen's life was at stake.
"Morton," he called. "Ask Jaenelle and Karla to join me here."
Morton
Morton glanced over to Lucivar and gave him a single, weary nod. He knew full well why Lucivar wanted to speak to them. And he knew he'd be backing Lucivar without question.
It's easier to kill than to heal. It's easier to destroy than preserve. It's easier to tear down than to build. Those who feed on destructive emotions and ambitions and deny the responsibilities that are the price of wielding power can bring down everything you care for and would protect. Be on guard, always.
Satan's words. Saetan's warning to the young Warlords and Warlord Princes who gathered at the Hall.
But Saetan had never mentioned the last part of that warning: sometimes it was kinder to destroy.
Lucivar
Lucivar watched Morton go. A good male, a good friend to his Queen and cousin. He hoped that Morton would survive, would go on and help Karla rule a unified Glacia.
Hope was a bitter thing.
Lucivar's plan was simple. He wasn't strong enough to give Jaenelle a swift, clean death, even at his best. But the five hundred landens that still lived had no inner defenses against the Blood. Once Jaenelle, Karla, and the others were away from here, once the Jhinka started their final attack, he would make a fast descent, pull up every drop of power he had left, and unleash that force. The landens would die instantly, their minds burned away. Should Morton decide to stay and make a last stand with him--though he'd do his damnedest to persuade him not to--he might survive for a few seconds longer, but not long enough for the Jhinka to reach him.
And the Jhinka...they, too, would die. Some of them. A lot of them. But not all of them. He would be left, alone, when the survivors tore him apart. He would make sure of it. He'd fought the Jhinka in Terreille. He'd seen what they did to captives. When it came to cruelty, they were an ingenious people.
But then, so were many of the Blood. At least he'd die here, free, having finally found a Queen he could serve.
Karla
"No, just no!"
Karla was in the doorway, clinging to the jamb. It hurt her to yell, but she wasn't going to let that stop her.
"No, Lucivar. You can't! You just can't! I didn't spend the last three days bringing them back from the brink of death just to let you kill them! You can't! I won't let you! I won't abandon these people!"
Morton
Morton came up behind her, looping a supportive arm around her waist. She struggled to shake him off, but the attempt was laughable.
"They're not your people, Karla," he said quietly.
Karla
"So then it's okay to just leave them to the Jhinka?!"
Morton
"You made a promise," Morton said, ignoring everything else. "You promised those males you met at the cabin that you'd keep fighting for them. That you'd come back one day and return us to the way things were. You owe Glacia that much. So you will leave and you will live and you will keep your promise so that no other village has to go through something like this!"
Ender
There wasn't any time to lose.
Ender sped through the area as quickly as he could, looking for Jaenelle. No time. There would be no fleet to save them, no one (and wasn't that a familiar situation to be in?) at all, but if they could just get out-- if Jaenelle's power reached as far as he thought it did...
"Jaenelle!" he called, sure that he was close.
Mari
Mari glanced up from where she was bandaging up one of her neighbors. "She's upstairs," she told Ender, pointing to the stairs Karla had descended when she'd first seen them. "Main room. It's where the ladies brought the patients that were fatally wounded."
She was curious why this male was looking for Jaenelle, but he didn't look like he was willing to spend the time explaining.
Ender
Ender shot her a glance, and communicated gratitude with a nod. He wasn't planning to stay and chat some more. This was a war now, and war rules held.
The next moment, one of his feet hit the first step of the stairs, and then he was going, going, going.
Jaenelle
The stairs emptied out into a large room, almost a mirror to the one below it. Like downstairs, it was filled with the injured, though these appeared to be in sightly better shape. The yards of bloodied linens and the dark streaks on the floors and walls hinted that this had not always been the case.
The biggest difference between downstairs and up was the webbing that swathed the walls and ceiling. It was as if the upstairs had played host to millions of over-industrious spiders, intent on weaving a lifetime of webs in just a few short days. Most of the threads had blackened and cracked, empty of the Healing Craft that had sustained the lives of hundreds.
Over in the corner, however, there was a small patch of white webbing, growing smaller even as he watched.
Ender
The webbing, yes, which in Karla's world could amount to only one thing: a Black Widow's work. There were only two around, as far as Ender knew, being Karla and Jaenelle - and considering he'd just seen the former...
But the white.
Casting any thoughts he might have had about his previous encounter with Black Widow webbing aside, Ender moved in its general direction. It took him less effort than he'd liked to ignore all the blood, all the evidence of something worse-- until he was right in front of the white strands, searching.
Jaenelle
Jaenelle ghosted out of a darkened corner to appear at his elbow. She was clad in her hair and streaks of blood.. She evinced no embarrassment for her nudity, perhaps because there was little enough of it. If Karla looked like a walking advertisement for famine, Jaenelle looked like death. No curves, no softeness, nothing that suggested he was looking at a real human body, just skin over tendon and bone, with dark, fathomless eyes.
"The last of the Healing web," she croaked. "It's power is fading fast. When it blackens, there will be nothing left. It will be only me, then."
Ender
She looked horrible. Craft really was a drain on the resources in every way imaginable, and Ender briefly wondered just how their internal systems hooked into it, like some bizarre biological fusion.
His eyes were on her face when he turned, though. "Your power reserves," he started. "Would you be able to create an illusion?" No time for niceties. No time for introductions. No time for much at all.
Jaenelle
"Yes," Jaenelle said simply. "I've barely touched my reserves."
If it was simply a question of Craft, it wasn't a problem at all. Jaenelle had more than enough power to do so.
The real question was, how much more could her body afford to take?
Ender
Mazer had mocked Ender for nightmares and chewed-through knuckles; Ender had broken Petra in return.
"What we need is for those Jhinka to think we're dead long enough for us to escape through the only exit we've got," Ender said. There was no space for empathy or recognition of Jaenelle's condition in his tone.
Jaenelle
"What exit is that?" Jaenelle asked, but before Ender could speak, the male in the corner gave a small gasp.
"Khevin!" Jaenelle said, using Craft to propel herself across the floor.
Ender
"Jaenelle!" Ender started after her, but some tiny instinct told him that whatever he'd been trying to prevent, he'd failed.
Jaenelle
Ender was no longer even a blip on Jaenelle's mental radar. Khevin was the last of the fatally wounded and far and away the most badly injured.
"You can't die on me," she said, grasping for his hand. The web above him finally turned all black and rained ash onto his face. "You promised. I promised. Don't die on me, Khevin!"
Khevin
"Don't...think...I have a choice," Khevin whispered, coughing up a bit of blood. "Thank you..."
Jaenelle
"No! Don't say that!" Jaenelle ordered. "I will save you! I will!"
Except, even as she pulled together the Craft to infuse his body with Healing energies, she gasped, doubling over in a wet cough.
"I will," she croaked.
Khevin
Khevin gave her a beatific smile. "Thank you...Lady. I watched you...save...my people. I...am happy...Mari...love..."
And then he was gone.
Jaenelle
"No." Jaenelle said sharply. Not just a denial; an honest negation of fact. "No!"
The safframate in her blood surged up, feeding her anger, her hatred, her despair. In her head, the circling Jhinka buzzed like angry hornets, their minds caught up in hatred and fury and violence. It needed to stop. It all needed to stop.
They needed to stop. To be stopped.
*KHEVIN!*
Her body glided towards the door, the pale-haired lady clothed in blood and trapped in hurt, even as her mind spiraled down into the abyss, deeper and deeper. A howling began, one full of rage and pain, no joy or celebration to balance it out.
She didn't notice Ender as she swept through the door and down the stairs. Didn't see the concern or fear on the landens she passed. All she could focus on were two things: the loss of Khevin and the desire to just...make...it...stop!
Karla
Unaware just what had occurred within, Karla and Morton were still arguing. "No," she whispered, edging away from him. "No. Don't make me--"
Morton
"You're a Queen," Morton snapped. "Act like it. You have a bunch of friends here who risked their necks to save you. Including another young Queen who looks to you for guidance. You don't have a choice!"
Jaenelle
Before Karla had a chance to do anything more than slump her shoulders into submission, there was movement behind them and a series of gasps that had them both spinning around to look through the doorway.
Jaenelle was walking through the room, slowly making her way to the door. 'Walking' was perhaps a stretch--she was actually propelling herself with Craft, since her body could no longer support her. As bad as Karla looked, she was no match for Jaenelle. She wore nothing but the Black Jewel around her neck; unsurprising as there was nothing left that would fit, including her undergarments. All the muscle, all the feminine curves she'd gained over the past year were gone. Having no other source of fuel, her body had consumed itself in its struggle to be the receptacle for the power within. People could count her ribs as she passed, could see her hipbones shift as she pretended to move her feet.
Despite that, or perhaps because of it, her face was strangely compelling. Her youth had been consumed in the healing fire, leaving her with a timeless, ageless beauty that suited her ancient, haunted, sapphire eyes. Her face looked like an exquisite mask that would never again be touched by living concerns.
She brushed by Morton and Karla, both of whom scrambled out of the way to let her pass, and looked up at the thousands of Jhinka who stared back with bulging, hate-filled eyes.
And then the mask shattered.
Karla
Jaenelle's grief and rage flooded through the building, like a tidal wave of emotion felt by everyone. It sent Karla careening against the building, where she clung with a desperation that was rapidly being replaced by overwhelming fear.
The world spun with sickening speed, spun in tighter and tighter spirals, dragging at her mind, threatening to tear her away from any sane anchor. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper.
Spirals. Jaenelle had talked about spirals once, but she couldn't remember why. She couldn’t do much of anything: couldn’t see, couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
Lucivar
"GET DOWN!" Lucivar roared, on the off-chance there were any people in the building that hadn't already been thrown to the ground by the force of Jaenelle's power.
His shield broke, its energy sucked down into the spiral. The witch storm got pulled in, too, its psychic threads snapping as it tried to remain anchored around the town.
Faster and faster, deeper and deeper, and then the dark power rose out of the abyss, roaring past him with a speed that froze his mind.
Lucivar staggered towards Jaenelle. Down. He had to get her down on the ground. Had to--
Pop.
Jhinka
Pop pop.
Pop pop pop pop pop.
In the sky, chaos reigned as the spiraling power of Jaenelle's fury caught the Jhinka unawares. Another surge of dark power flashed through what was left of the witch storm's psychic threads. They flared, blackened, disappeared.
The Jhinka were screaming now, but that could only be heard faintly, overwhelmed by the loud Pop pop popping sound that was their bodies exploding.
Pop pop pop.
Pop pop.
Pop.
Raven
Raven had gone down when Jaenelle first unleashed her power, overwhelmed by the emotion. She crumpled to her knees, clutching her head in her hands. She felt all the Jhinka as they died, their pain reaching out to her, tearing through her shields. With what little strength she had left she tried to block it out and protect her soul, but it was too much. It felt like claws ripping at her, shattering the restraints she used to keep the demon part of her subdued.
She screamed, and her Soul-Self began to rise from her body, its normal golden outline flickering red. Anyone who was remotely sensitive would feel the cold touch of a great evil as Raven struggled to rein it back inside her.
I am you, Raven. You are evil as I, she heard her father's voice in her mind. And she screamed again.
Jono
Jonothon wasn't thinking about it. Wasn't thinking about the surge of wrong that had pummelled at his senses, wasn't thinking about the sickening popping noises or the injured or any of it. It was all being filed away. Something to be horrified about later. Something else to add to the nightmares that already kept him awake at night.
The rippling sensation of evil, however? That much, he couldn't ignore. Not when it was already so familiar. Not when it was accompanied by Raven's scream.
He came running.
//Raven?// Red was not a good thing, was it? //Raven, luv. Breathe.//
Raven
Raven moaned and slumped forward, her fingers scraping at the ground below her. "No! No! I will not let you be released!" she cried. "I will not become your daughter of death! Even if I must perish to stop you, I will! Leave me! I...I must regain control...control...."
She heard Jono beside her, just as she heard her father laughing in her mind. No! I will not allow you to harm him! she thought fiercely, seizing upon the strength that conviction gave her.
Jono
And now that he was here, Jonothon had no idea what to do. What to say. Trigon? That evil was familiar enough.
All he really could do was crouch down beside her, reaching for her hands.
//Fight it, Sunshine. Yer stronger than this, and we both know it. Fight it.//
Raven
They'd already been through hell here; Raven wasn't about to let herself add to it. She clung to Jono's hands as she felt them take hers, squeezing them with more strength than anyone might imagine from her. Her Soul-Self began to sink back into her trembling body. She would fight her father, she would never give in.
Jono
The moment her Soul-Self began to ease back, Jonothon had found himself muttering, little nothing statements, //There's a good girl,// and //Yer alright, you'll be alright.//
He squeezed her hands back, just slightly. The strength in her fingers surprised him perhaps a little, but it was negligible. There was plenty today that had surprised him more than enough already.
Raven
"He is gone, Trigon is gone," Raven said, though she could still hear the echo of her father's laughter in her mind, and it made her shudder. She pushed her self up unsteadily, then flung her arms around Jono, clinging to him. "I felt it," she sobbed. "I felt them all die."
Jono
//I know, luv,// Jono murmured, wrapping his arms around her, very carefully making certain that his flames didn't get any hotter than 'warm,' that holding her close wouldn't burn. //I know.//
He'd felt it, too. Hundreds of psionic signatures simply blinking away. But, he suspected, nothing like the way she had. Nothing like the way an empath would.
Raven
"I am sorry," Raven whispered, lifting her head from his shoulder. She had twisted her body to avoid the flames, but she didn't care that it was warm. She wouldn't care much if she burned at the moment if it meant that the evil inside her would die. "I was not prepared...for that." As if she ever could be.
Jono
As if anyone ever could be.
//It's over now,// he replied, keeping his voice gentle, rubbing little circles along her shoulders with one hand. Sending a wave of something gentle, something friendly, without real definition or form, toward her.
You're not alone.
//We'll be away from this soon.//
Raven
She drew back to wipe her hand across her eyes. Her shields were almost non-existent now, and she could keenly sense the pain of those who were still injured. "There are those who require my aid," she said, struggling to rise to her feet. "I should be helping them."
It would give her something else to focus on, and right now she was terrified that if she lingered by Jono, she would drain him of the emotions he was sending her.
Jono
He didn't make any motion to stop her, to hold her back. In the wake of all of that, he could respect just how important it was to make oneself useful. Or, alternatively, to lose oneself in the motions.
//I should... find something productive to do, myself,// he replied. //If you need anything, Sunshine, I shouldn't be too difficult to find.//
Raven
Raven nodded shakily, managing some semblance of a smile. "I will find you, thank you," she said. Once she was certain she was totally in control and not a danger to her friends. It might be awhile.
Ben
Ben had hit the ground when Jaenelle's power had been unleashed, then had felt each one of those deaths as they disappeared in the Force. Already worn out by the constant use of the Force for the last few hours, he was a hair too slow to shield himself from Raven's rage.
He cried out in sympathetic pain, curled himself into a ball, and willed himself not to lose what little was left in his stomach.
That was going to be a losing battle.
Lucivar
Lucivar had been through countless battles through the centuries, killing and slaughtering with abandon. Even so, he'd never seen anything quite like what had just happened, and he'd danced with the Sadist on any number of occasions.
"Ben," Lucivar hunkered down next to the young male. "Just let it go, boyo. You'll feel better."
Ben
Ben rolled over and heaved out what felt like everything he'd ever eaten in his life.
Sorry about that, Lucivar.
Lucivar
Lucivar'd stepped in worse. And compared what the courtyard looked like now, what was a little vomit here or there?
Or even liberally spattered on his boots?
"You felt that, didn't you?" he asked quietly. "Differently than Karla or I did."
Ben
He nodded, wiping his hand across his mouth and looking for Tahiri. "I feel the connection that all living things have to each other," he said when he could put words together. "One or two deaths at a time--even five or ten--can be ignored in battle, but that many at once--"
He turned red, embarrassed about getting sick.
Lucivar
"I fought off my first Jhinka raiding party when I was perhaps your age," Lucivar said idly, as if they were having this conversation in a room at the Hall, rather than in a blood-soaked courtyard. "Same battle when I made my first kill. Afterwards, when the killing edge receded and I stood, surrounded by bodies, I spent awhile introducing the contents of my stomach to a few nearby bushes."
He reached out a hand. "I know this isn't your first dance, boyo. But it doesn't make it an easy thing to deal with anyway." There was a ghost of what might have been a smile. "It might be a good thing I haven't had anything to eat since yesterday."
Ben
Ben took the hand and used it to leverage himself up. "I'd disagree with you about the food thing, but I think I'm only allowed to fuss over one member of the Blood at a time," he said with a tiny smile of his own.
Lucivar
"I wouldn't say that," Lucivar drawled. "I generally make it a point to fuss at the whole coven when I get a chance. But then, I've got more experience than you at it. Stick to Karla for now, boyo. You'll be a pro in no time."
Because if there was one witch after Jaenelle guaranteed to cause a fuss? It was Karla.
Ben
"But I couldn't get away with trying to sling you over my shoulder to dunk into a lake for not taking care of yourself," Ben replied, eyes sparkling.
Skywalker repression worked fast.
Lucivar
"Well, you could always try, but your time might be better spent teaching rocks to sing," Lucivar replied with a faint chuckle. "I hear back on that island of yours, you have a an entire ocean for dunking. Still not a good plan for me, but if you happen to know of any witches that might need one or two of those..."
Ben
Ben waved his hand around at the Fandomites, most of whom were still sitting on the floor. "I pick my battles," he said.
Lucivar
"Wise male," Lucivar said, also glancing around. He wished Ben just hadn't picked this one. None of them needed to see this.
Bobby
Bobby didn't feel the deaths. Not the way that Raven or Ben or Sookie or anyone else with any sort of telepathic or empathic power did.
Which was good, because he could hear it, and see it, and that was quite enough for him. It was like seeing first-hand what he'd been told about Jean's last few days.
There was also a part of him that watched the red mist settle with something that could only be described as relief. He'd used a lot of the land's groundwater in his own efforts against the Jhinka. Now, at least, most of that would be returned.
Sookie
In an instant, Sookie was on her knees with the force of power and death that swept through her. It was Rapture, ten times over, hitting her and gone in seconds. She didn't feel the deaths, not the way an empath would -- but their thoughts were tangled too closely to emotion, and she felt a roaring ache sweep through her.
It was a wall of noise, hitting her from every direction, crushing her mind into a thousand pieces. Chasing it was the force of Raven's rage -- with her shields in splinters, Sookie took the full impact, her body convulsing with the sheer amount of it all.
When it was over, Sookie stayed as she was, curled in a ball and shaking violently. She couldn't move. She could barely feel, after that.
Bobby
And the fact that this whole situation reminded him painfully of Jean is why Bobby was at Sookie's side in an instant, wrapping his arms around her and murmuring in her ear.
"It hurts, I know," he said. "But you're strong, I know you are. Come back to me? Please?"
Sookie
She heard him; it was a bit like hearing Bobby's voice from underwater, or through a wall. Sookie tried desperately to turn her attention away from the echo of what had just coursed through her, but her focus had seemingly evaporated. Her body shook in his arms, disobeying all commands to just stand up, relax, and move on.
What she managed to do was clumsily press her face into his neck, feeling the coolness of his skin, allowing that detail to ground her. From there, she did what felt natural, without shields: she spoke without words, using her mind against his.
A picture of Rapture, a flash of them in bed after, a fuzzy memory of their joined hands. She couldn't verbalize what she needed for him to put her back together, nor could she shield him from anything else she brought through the link, but it was a start.
All she needed was help focusing. She'd lock it away like Karla had, before, and she'd come back.
Bobby
And Bobby knew her well enough to know what she was asking, even without words.
And so he pulled up a number of happier memories- their first kiss, skating on the lake at Kellerman's, Sookie's birthday party- and projected those images at her, along with his love and concern. Please. I'm not losing you too. I can't.
Sookie
It took a moment -- not as long as before, but she'd been on the brink for days now. Sookie concentrated on the warmth of the memories, the solidity of Bobby, the realness of here and now.
With her mind away from what she had seen -- what she had felt -- Sookie put the barest of shields back in place. It was enough. With that between her and the pain, she was able to focus.
"I'm here," she whispered after a few seconds, and the shaking finally subsided as she leaned against him, though she didn't uncurl her limbs yet. "I'm here."
Jack
Pop, pop, pop -- such a cheerful sound, if you could ignore the source.
Jack couldn't ignore the source. Or the smell.
He closed his eyes, feeling hopelessly inadequate as he willed all of this to be over. He could do nothing, and he knew it, and --
He waited, and listened, and forced himself to open his eyes again.
Emma
The moment Jaenelle's power ripped free of whatever bonds the young witch used to hold it in check, Emma dropped like a puppet with all her strings cut.
The lights were going out. Jhinka after Jhinka winked out on the astral plane, a spreading Darkness burning through them, devouring the light of other stars. Emma had experienced feeling people die before, in the vampire-world, but never on this scale.
She was dimly aware on some level that her body was screaming, hands clawing at her head in a futile attempt to make it stop, but all her attention was trapped, rooted in place, and she couldn't tear her mind away from the scene in front of her, couldn't seek refuge in the cold safety of her diamond shield. The lights were going out, too fast, far too fast, and to Emma, thirty seconds felt like thirty million years.
Jack
And there Jack was as he heard her scream, reaching an arm around her as tight as he could. He could be her 'friend apart' some other time; right then, all he felt was his love and her pain.
What he was murmuring wasn't exactly English, but the tone was clear: Darling, it'll be all right, we're safe.
Emma
Emma made a keening sound in the back of her throat, desperately trying to curl into a smaller ball and disappear entirely.
<< Hurts, >> she managed, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter. << Is...? >>
Is everyone safe? Is it over? Were more lights going to go out?
Jack
"Don't listen, darling," Jack said, stroking her hair. "I think the worst is over, but -- for the love of god, don't listen."
Emma
Emma tried to nod her agreement, but that just made her head hurt more.
<< M'fine, >> she fibbed promised, keeping her eyes closed and trying to focus on what Jack was doing to block out the noise from all the other minds in the area. << You're safe? >>
Jack
"Of course," Jack lied smoothly. "No one here is hurt at all."
Not physically. Not badly. That was all he could promise.
Hesitantly, he added, "Should you -- shift, so you can't hear for a bit?"
He hated the diamond. He truly did. But it might keep her pain from growing worse.
Emma
"Hit too fast for me to change," she mumbled, but Emma was slowly pulling herself together, separating enough bits of herself out of the maelstrom in her mind to focus.
A moment later she rippled under his hand, the change taking hold almost instantaneously.
"Owwwwwww."
Jack
"Ow now?" Jack asked stiffly, worried. "Or ow from a few moments ago?"
Emma
"Ow from a few moments ago; I just couldn't remember the word I wanted with my head so muddled." Emma sat up, carefully, pushing her hair back from her face.
"This is much better."
Jack
"I thought it might be," Jack said, satisfied. "Stay like that until Ben and Sookie seem all right, hmmm?"
He'd lost any Emma who could comfort him -- he knew what the diamond was like. But that was temporary; she'd be back. Much more important was that she kept her mind intact, and the diamond was the best safeguard against this type of pain.
Emma
"I'll wait until we're far away from here," she promised. "I've got no desire to have my brain leak out my ears."
She knew he disliked having her cut-off from everything, but this was the best option they had until they were safely back at the Hall.
Jack
"Good," Jack said, and kissed a crystalline temple. "I like your brain inside that skull of yours."
Ender
Ender stared up at the sky. Pop pop pop. Was that the sound Formic bodies made when every one of their atoms incinerated themselves? he wondered, distantly. Had they popped, had their queens and their children, had the silence of the simulation room hidden such a stupid, insignificant noise?
He wasn't psychic, and so he didn't feel it. His body felt cold, distant and outside of himself, miles away.
He watched them all come apart and saw Formic ships bursting with horrible light, one after the other, the violence travelling from one to the other with insignificant little pops.
Had that been it?
Ender's body shivered. He saw planets bursting apart like popcorn, vacantly.
He wasn't here.
TahiriThe moment Tahiri had realized what was happening, she'd known it was too late to reinforce her mental shields effectively enough; the loss of life en masse cut through whatever meager shielding she'd managed to throw up before now, and while she'd felt something like it before it had never been anything on this scale.
She'd heard Luke describe Obi-Wan's reaction to the destruction of Alderaan; she'd seen the look in Anakin Solo's eyes when he'd told her a little about what had happened at Centerpoint Station. She understood now, and wished she didn't, what it must have been like for them.
The backlash had her sprawled helplessly on the ground, snarling half-formed Yuuzhan Vong curses against the pain, and instinctively Tahiri retreated behind that part of her nature. She couldn't completely cut herself off from the Force any more -- the melding of her personalities had removed that divide -- but she could try to channel the agony somehow. It was hard, but she was stubborn, and she wasn't going to make things worse for Ben, Raven, Sookie, Karla, Emma, or anyone else who would be suffering under the psychic onslaught as it was.
She just had to . . . hold on, use the pain to strengthen her ability to lock it all down, just a little bit longer. And if a quietly triumphant whisper of "Do-ro'ik vong pratte!" slipped out at any point during it all, she'd deal with it later.
Tara
Tara didn't feel it. Not exactly. Not the way Ben or Sookie or Emma or Jono did.
But she'd been watching auras, and the colors she saw as people processed what they felt were horrible and nauseating. The dancing lights surrounding Jaenelle were worse yet.
She wiped the moisture from her eyes, trying not to be afraid.
Kennedy
Kennedy couldn't sense or see a damn thing, and looking around at her friends, for once, she was glad. This was-- she'd always thought more power was a good thing, but this was horrifying. She didn't have words to explain it, and she wasn't sure she wanted to find them.
Without a word, she moved over to wrap her arms around Tara, needing the comfort as much as she wanted to offer it.
Gabrielle
Gabrielle hit the ground without hesitation when she heard Lucivar's shout, only to look up when she heard the popping noises.
And she badly wished she hadn't.
"No," she whispered half to herself, half a desperate plea that was drowned out by the screaming and the popping and the horrible reality of it all. "No, don't do this, please, no . . ."
Xena, eyes wild with battle madness, sword raised, screaming, "Kill 'em all!"
Gabrielle had been horrified then, but this? This was something else entirely.
Cassidy
Cassidy had never felt or seen anything like the Jhinkas, but whatever power suddenly knocked her to the ground was so much stronger than anything she had ever felt before -- even in Fandom.
When she saw the first deaths outside the shields, she screamed unconsciously, closing her eyes and holding onto whatever was nearest. She clawed at the land, at anything she could to maintain a stable hold as she felt death around her. If she could just stay holding onto the land...
She would probably never be able to unsee the images she had seen before she closed her eyes.
Dinah
Dinah had her shields up in an instant, and it still flattened her. She felt like she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only try to catch her breath as all that death and pain swept through-- and then was nauseatingly, desolately gone in an instant.
She closed her eyes as Jaenelle left. She'd just saved them all. In a sleepwalking starved daze, in a moment of pure rage.
How was there anyone at least not a little afraid of her? Not the power. The will to use it like that....
Jaenelle
It had taken Jaenelle less than thirty seconds to destroy six thousand Jhinka. All that was left of them was a fine red mist that covered everything. The only patches of clean ground were small circles around the people in the courtyard; she had shielded them all from her fury.
"Khevin's dead," she whispered to Karla as she swept back inside.
Karla
Karla tried to tell her to wait, but her voice wouldn't work. She tried to get to her feet, but her legs felt like jelly.
She finally remembered what Jaenelle had said about spirals.
The maelstrom.
Inside. She had to get inside. She had to check on her friends, on the landens, see to Jaenelle. She couldn't just curl up in a ball and cry for a week, no matter how much she wanted to.
Karla didn't fear her best friend, but suddenly the gap between them felt ever so much wider.
[And we are done--though just for the night! NFI, NFB, OOC is golden. Warning in place for death of an NPC and ultraviolence. Text taken, spindled, mutilated, and folded into origami cranes from Anne Bishop's Heir to the Blood, Chapter Thirteen. Preplayed with rockstars, yo. Plot post masterlist found here.
Also, that long ping about Jaenelle being even prettier now? Straight from the text. Oh, Anne Bishop. Why you so crazy?]
Even if Aaron and the others showed up now, it was doubtful they'd be able to do much to turn the tide of the battle. Six thousand Jhinka, even lacking Craft as they did, were just too damn many.
No, better to save their strength. Maybe between the combined strength of all of Karla's friends, they'd be able to escape.
He spared a thought for the young male, Ender, who'd had a plan that might hopefully get them out of all this. Idly, he wondered if it would have worked, indeed, if it could work still. If he would have a chance of pulling it off before Lucivar's Craft failed, if he could somehow pull it off at all.
Maybe. Still, it was a slim thread to rest all their hopes on. Lucivar couldn't rely on 'maybes,' not when his Queen's life was at stake.
"Morton," he called. "Ask Jaenelle and Karla to join me here."
Morton
Morton glanced over to Lucivar and gave him a single, weary nod. He knew full well why Lucivar wanted to speak to them. And he knew he'd be backing Lucivar without question.
It's easier to kill than to heal. It's easier to destroy than preserve. It's easier to tear down than to build. Those who feed on destructive emotions and ambitions and deny the responsibilities that are the price of wielding power can bring down everything you care for and would protect. Be on guard, always.
Satan's words. Saetan's warning to the young Warlords and Warlord Princes who gathered at the Hall.
But Saetan had never mentioned the last part of that warning: sometimes it was kinder to destroy.
Lucivar
Lucivar watched Morton go. A good male, a good friend to his Queen and cousin. He hoped that Morton would survive, would go on and help Karla rule a unified Glacia.
Hope was a bitter thing.
Lucivar's plan was simple. He wasn't strong enough to give Jaenelle a swift, clean death, even at his best. But the five hundred landens that still lived had no inner defenses against the Blood. Once Jaenelle, Karla, and the others were away from here, once the Jhinka started their final attack, he would make a fast descent, pull up every drop of power he had left, and unleash that force. The landens would die instantly, their minds burned away. Should Morton decide to stay and make a last stand with him--though he'd do his damnedest to persuade him not to--he might survive for a few seconds longer, but not long enough for the Jhinka to reach him.
And the Jhinka...they, too, would die. Some of them. A lot of them. But not all of them. He would be left, alone, when the survivors tore him apart. He would make sure of it. He'd fought the Jhinka in Terreille. He'd seen what they did to captives. When it came to cruelty, they were an ingenious people.
But then, so were many of the Blood. At least he'd die here, free, having finally found a Queen he could serve.
Karla
"No, just no!"
Karla was in the doorway, clinging to the jamb. It hurt her to yell, but she wasn't going to let that stop her.
"No, Lucivar. You can't! You just can't! I didn't spend the last three days bringing them back from the brink of death just to let you kill them! You can't! I won't let you! I won't abandon these people!"
Morton
Morton came up behind her, looping a supportive arm around her waist. She struggled to shake him off, but the attempt was laughable.
"They're not your people, Karla," he said quietly.
Karla
"So then it's okay to just leave them to the Jhinka?!"
Morton
"You made a promise," Morton said, ignoring everything else. "You promised those males you met at the cabin that you'd keep fighting for them. That you'd come back one day and return us to the way things were. You owe Glacia that much. So you will leave and you will live and you will keep your promise so that no other village has to go through something like this!"
Ender
There wasn't any time to lose.
Ender sped through the area as quickly as he could, looking for Jaenelle. No time. There would be no fleet to save them, no one (and wasn't that a familiar situation to be in?) at all, but if they could just get out-- if Jaenelle's power reached as far as he thought it did...
"Jaenelle!" he called, sure that he was close.
Mari
Mari glanced up from where she was bandaging up one of her neighbors. "She's upstairs," she told Ender, pointing to the stairs Karla had descended when she'd first seen them. "Main room. It's where the ladies brought the patients that were fatally wounded."
She was curious why this male was looking for Jaenelle, but he didn't look like he was willing to spend the time explaining.
Ender
Ender shot her a glance, and communicated gratitude with a nod. He wasn't planning to stay and chat some more. This was a war now, and war rules held.
The next moment, one of his feet hit the first step of the stairs, and then he was going, going, going.
Jaenelle
The stairs emptied out into a large room, almost a mirror to the one below it. Like downstairs, it was filled with the injured, though these appeared to be in sightly better shape. The yards of bloodied linens and the dark streaks on the floors and walls hinted that this had not always been the case.
The biggest difference between downstairs and up was the webbing that swathed the walls and ceiling. It was as if the upstairs had played host to millions of over-industrious spiders, intent on weaving a lifetime of webs in just a few short days. Most of the threads had blackened and cracked, empty of the Healing Craft that had sustained the lives of hundreds.
Over in the corner, however, there was a small patch of white webbing, growing smaller even as he watched.
Ender
The webbing, yes, which in Karla's world could amount to only one thing: a Black Widow's work. There were only two around, as far as Ender knew, being Karla and Jaenelle - and considering he'd just seen the former...
But the white.
Casting any thoughts he might have had about his previous encounter with Black Widow webbing aside, Ender moved in its general direction. It took him less effort than he'd liked to ignore all the blood, all the evidence of something worse-- until he was right in front of the white strands, searching.
Jaenelle
Jaenelle ghosted out of a darkened corner to appear at his elbow. She was clad in her hair and streaks of blood.. She evinced no embarrassment for her nudity, perhaps because there was little enough of it. If Karla looked like a walking advertisement for famine, Jaenelle looked like death. No curves, no softeness, nothing that suggested he was looking at a real human body, just skin over tendon and bone, with dark, fathomless eyes.
"The last of the Healing web," she croaked. "It's power is fading fast. When it blackens, there will be nothing left. It will be only me, then."
Ender
She looked horrible. Craft really was a drain on the resources in every way imaginable, and Ender briefly wondered just how their internal systems hooked into it, like some bizarre biological fusion.
His eyes were on her face when he turned, though. "Your power reserves," he started. "Would you be able to create an illusion?" No time for niceties. No time for introductions. No time for much at all.
Jaenelle
"Yes," Jaenelle said simply. "I've barely touched my reserves."
If it was simply a question of Craft, it wasn't a problem at all. Jaenelle had more than enough power to do so.
The real question was, how much more could her body afford to take?
Ender
Mazer had mocked Ender for nightmares and chewed-through knuckles; Ender had broken Petra in return.
"What we need is for those Jhinka to think we're dead long enough for us to escape through the only exit we've got," Ender said. There was no space for empathy or recognition of Jaenelle's condition in his tone.
Jaenelle
"What exit is that?" Jaenelle asked, but before Ender could speak, the male in the corner gave a small gasp.
"Khevin!" Jaenelle said, using Craft to propel herself across the floor.
Ender
"Jaenelle!" Ender started after her, but some tiny instinct told him that whatever he'd been trying to prevent, he'd failed.
Jaenelle
Ender was no longer even a blip on Jaenelle's mental radar. Khevin was the last of the fatally wounded and far and away the most badly injured.
"You can't die on me," she said, grasping for his hand. The web above him finally turned all black and rained ash onto his face. "You promised. I promised. Don't die on me, Khevin!"
Khevin
"Don't...think...I have a choice," Khevin whispered, coughing up a bit of blood. "Thank you..."
Jaenelle
"No! Don't say that!" Jaenelle ordered. "I will save you! I will!"
Except, even as she pulled together the Craft to infuse his body with Healing energies, she gasped, doubling over in a wet cough.
"I will," she croaked.
Khevin
Khevin gave her a beatific smile. "Thank you...Lady. I watched you...save...my people. I...am happy...Mari...love..."
And then he was gone.
Jaenelle
"No." Jaenelle said sharply. Not just a denial; an honest negation of fact. "No!"
The safframate in her blood surged up, feeding her anger, her hatred, her despair. In her head, the circling Jhinka buzzed like angry hornets, their minds caught up in hatred and fury and violence. It needed to stop. It all needed to stop.
They needed to stop. To be stopped.
*KHEVIN!*
Her body glided towards the door, the pale-haired lady clothed in blood and trapped in hurt, even as her mind spiraled down into the abyss, deeper and deeper. A howling began, one full of rage and pain, no joy or celebration to balance it out.
She didn't notice Ender as she swept through the door and down the stairs. Didn't see the concern or fear on the landens she passed. All she could focus on were two things: the loss of Khevin and the desire to just...make...it...stop!
Karla
Unaware just what had occurred within, Karla and Morton were still arguing. "No," she whispered, edging away from him. "No. Don't make me--"
Morton
"You're a Queen," Morton snapped. "Act like it. You have a bunch of friends here who risked their necks to save you. Including another young Queen who looks to you for guidance. You don't have a choice!"
Jaenelle
Before Karla had a chance to do anything more than slump her shoulders into submission, there was movement behind them and a series of gasps that had them both spinning around to look through the doorway.
Jaenelle was walking through the room, slowly making her way to the door. 'Walking' was perhaps a stretch--she was actually propelling herself with Craft, since her body could no longer support her. As bad as Karla looked, she was no match for Jaenelle. She wore nothing but the Black Jewel around her neck; unsurprising as there was nothing left that would fit, including her undergarments. All the muscle, all the feminine curves she'd gained over the past year were gone. Having no other source of fuel, her body had consumed itself in its struggle to be the receptacle for the power within. People could count her ribs as she passed, could see her hipbones shift as she pretended to move her feet.
Despite that, or perhaps because of it, her face was strangely compelling. Her youth had been consumed in the healing fire, leaving her with a timeless, ageless beauty that suited her ancient, haunted, sapphire eyes. Her face looked like an exquisite mask that would never again be touched by living concerns.
She brushed by Morton and Karla, both of whom scrambled out of the way to let her pass, and looked up at the thousands of Jhinka who stared back with bulging, hate-filled eyes.
And then the mask shattered.
Karla
Jaenelle's grief and rage flooded through the building, like a tidal wave of emotion felt by everyone. It sent Karla careening against the building, where she clung with a desperation that was rapidly being replaced by overwhelming fear.
The world spun with sickening speed, spun in tighter and tighter spirals, dragging at her mind, threatening to tear her away from any sane anchor. Faster and faster. Deeper and deeper.
Spirals. Jaenelle had talked about spirals once, but she couldn't remember why. She couldn’t do much of anything: couldn’t see, couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
Lucivar
"GET DOWN!" Lucivar roared, on the off-chance there were any people in the building that hadn't already been thrown to the ground by the force of Jaenelle's power.
His shield broke, its energy sucked down into the spiral. The witch storm got pulled in, too, its psychic threads snapping as it tried to remain anchored around the town.
Faster and faster, deeper and deeper, and then the dark power rose out of the abyss, roaring past him with a speed that froze his mind.
Lucivar staggered towards Jaenelle. Down. He had to get her down on the ground. Had to--
Pop.
Jhinka
Pop pop.
Pop pop pop pop pop.
In the sky, chaos reigned as the spiraling power of Jaenelle's fury caught the Jhinka unawares. Another surge of dark power flashed through what was left of the witch storm's psychic threads. They flared, blackened, disappeared.
The Jhinka were screaming now, but that could only be heard faintly, overwhelmed by the loud Pop pop popping sound that was their bodies exploding.
Pop pop pop.
Pop pop.
Pop.
Raven
Raven had gone down when Jaenelle first unleashed her power, overwhelmed by the emotion. She crumpled to her knees, clutching her head in her hands. She felt all the Jhinka as they died, their pain reaching out to her, tearing through her shields. With what little strength she had left she tried to block it out and protect her soul, but it was too much. It felt like claws ripping at her, shattering the restraints she used to keep the demon part of her subdued.
She screamed, and her Soul-Self began to rise from her body, its normal golden outline flickering red. Anyone who was remotely sensitive would feel the cold touch of a great evil as Raven struggled to rein it back inside her.
I am you, Raven. You are evil as I, she heard her father's voice in her mind. And she screamed again.
Jono
Jonothon wasn't thinking about it. Wasn't thinking about the surge of wrong that had pummelled at his senses, wasn't thinking about the sickening popping noises or the injured or any of it. It was all being filed away. Something to be horrified about later. Something else to add to the nightmares that already kept him awake at night.
The rippling sensation of evil, however? That much, he couldn't ignore. Not when it was already so familiar. Not when it was accompanied by Raven's scream.
He came running.
//Raven?// Red was not a good thing, was it? //Raven, luv. Breathe.//
Raven
Raven moaned and slumped forward, her fingers scraping at the ground below her. "No! No! I will not let you be released!" she cried. "I will not become your daughter of death! Even if I must perish to stop you, I will! Leave me! I...I must regain control...control...."
She heard Jono beside her, just as she heard her father laughing in her mind. No! I will not allow you to harm him! she thought fiercely, seizing upon the strength that conviction gave her.
Jono
And now that he was here, Jonothon had no idea what to do. What to say. Trigon? That evil was familiar enough.
All he really could do was crouch down beside her, reaching for her hands.
//Fight it, Sunshine. Yer stronger than this, and we both know it. Fight it.//
Raven
They'd already been through hell here; Raven wasn't about to let herself add to it. She clung to Jono's hands as she felt them take hers, squeezing them with more strength than anyone might imagine from her. Her Soul-Self began to sink back into her trembling body. She would fight her father, she would never give in.
Jono
The moment her Soul-Self began to ease back, Jonothon had found himself muttering, little nothing statements, //There's a good girl,// and //Yer alright, you'll be alright.//
He squeezed her hands back, just slightly. The strength in her fingers surprised him perhaps a little, but it was negligible. There was plenty today that had surprised him more than enough already.
Raven
"He is gone, Trigon is gone," Raven said, though she could still hear the echo of her father's laughter in her mind, and it made her shudder. She pushed her self up unsteadily, then flung her arms around Jono, clinging to him. "I felt it," she sobbed. "I felt them all die."
Jono
//I know, luv,// Jono murmured, wrapping his arms around her, very carefully making certain that his flames didn't get any hotter than 'warm,' that holding her close wouldn't burn. //I know.//
He'd felt it, too. Hundreds of psionic signatures simply blinking away. But, he suspected, nothing like the way she had. Nothing like the way an empath would.
Raven
"I am sorry," Raven whispered, lifting her head from his shoulder. She had twisted her body to avoid the flames, but she didn't care that it was warm. She wouldn't care much if she burned at the moment if it meant that the evil inside her would die. "I was not prepared...for that." As if she ever could be.
Jono
As if anyone ever could be.
//It's over now,// he replied, keeping his voice gentle, rubbing little circles along her shoulders with one hand. Sending a wave of something gentle, something friendly, without real definition or form, toward her.
You're not alone.
//We'll be away from this soon.//
Raven
She drew back to wipe her hand across her eyes. Her shields were almost non-existent now, and she could keenly sense the pain of those who were still injured. "There are those who require my aid," she said, struggling to rise to her feet. "I should be helping them."
It would give her something else to focus on, and right now she was terrified that if she lingered by Jono, she would drain him of the emotions he was sending her.
Jono
He didn't make any motion to stop her, to hold her back. In the wake of all of that, he could respect just how important it was to make oneself useful. Or, alternatively, to lose oneself in the motions.
//I should... find something productive to do, myself,// he replied. //If you need anything, Sunshine, I shouldn't be too difficult to find.//
Raven
Raven nodded shakily, managing some semblance of a smile. "I will find you, thank you," she said. Once she was certain she was totally in control and not a danger to her friends. It might be awhile.
Ben
Ben had hit the ground when Jaenelle's power had been unleashed, then had felt each one of those deaths as they disappeared in the Force. Already worn out by the constant use of the Force for the last few hours, he was a hair too slow to shield himself from Raven's rage.
He cried out in sympathetic pain, curled himself into a ball, and willed himself not to lose what little was left in his stomach.
That was going to be a losing battle.
Lucivar
Lucivar had been through countless battles through the centuries, killing and slaughtering with abandon. Even so, he'd never seen anything quite like what had just happened, and he'd danced with the Sadist on any number of occasions.
"Ben," Lucivar hunkered down next to the young male. "Just let it go, boyo. You'll feel better."
Ben
Ben rolled over and heaved out what felt like everything he'd ever eaten in his life.
Sorry about that, Lucivar.
Lucivar
Lucivar'd stepped in worse. And compared what the courtyard looked like now, what was a little vomit here or there?
Or even liberally spattered on his boots?
"You felt that, didn't you?" he asked quietly. "Differently than Karla or I did."
Ben
He nodded, wiping his hand across his mouth and looking for Tahiri. "I feel the connection that all living things have to each other," he said when he could put words together. "One or two deaths at a time--even five or ten--can be ignored in battle, but that many at once--"
He turned red, embarrassed about getting sick.
Lucivar
"I fought off my first Jhinka raiding party when I was perhaps your age," Lucivar said idly, as if they were having this conversation in a room at the Hall, rather than in a blood-soaked courtyard. "Same battle when I made my first kill. Afterwards, when the killing edge receded and I stood, surrounded by bodies, I spent awhile introducing the contents of my stomach to a few nearby bushes."
He reached out a hand. "I know this isn't your first dance, boyo. But it doesn't make it an easy thing to deal with anyway." There was a ghost of what might have been a smile. "It might be a good thing I haven't had anything to eat since yesterday."
Ben
Ben took the hand and used it to leverage himself up. "I'd disagree with you about the food thing, but I think I'm only allowed to fuss over one member of the Blood at a time," he said with a tiny smile of his own.
Lucivar
"I wouldn't say that," Lucivar drawled. "I generally make it a point to fuss at the whole coven when I get a chance. But then, I've got more experience than you at it. Stick to Karla for now, boyo. You'll be a pro in no time."
Because if there was one witch after Jaenelle guaranteed to cause a fuss? It was Karla.
Ben
"But I couldn't get away with trying to sling you over my shoulder to dunk into a lake for not taking care of yourself," Ben replied, eyes sparkling.
Skywalker repression worked fast.
Lucivar
"Well, you could always try, but your time might be better spent teaching rocks to sing," Lucivar replied with a faint chuckle. "I hear back on that island of yours, you have a an entire ocean for dunking. Still not a good plan for me, but if you happen to know of any witches that might need one or two of those..."
Ben
Ben waved his hand around at the Fandomites, most of whom were still sitting on the floor. "I pick my battles," he said.
Lucivar
"Wise male," Lucivar said, also glancing around. He wished Ben just hadn't picked this one. None of them needed to see this.
Bobby
Bobby didn't feel the deaths. Not the way that Raven or Ben or Sookie or anyone else with any sort of telepathic or empathic power did.
Which was good, because he could hear it, and see it, and that was quite enough for him. It was like seeing first-hand what he'd been told about Jean's last few days.
There was also a part of him that watched the red mist settle with something that could only be described as relief. He'd used a lot of the land's groundwater in his own efforts against the Jhinka. Now, at least, most of that would be returned.
Sookie
In an instant, Sookie was on her knees with the force of power and death that swept through her. It was Rapture, ten times over, hitting her and gone in seconds. She didn't feel the deaths, not the way an empath would -- but their thoughts were tangled too closely to emotion, and she felt a roaring ache sweep through her.
It was a wall of noise, hitting her from every direction, crushing her mind into a thousand pieces. Chasing it was the force of Raven's rage -- with her shields in splinters, Sookie took the full impact, her body convulsing with the sheer amount of it all.
When it was over, Sookie stayed as she was, curled in a ball and shaking violently. She couldn't move. She could barely feel, after that.
Bobby
And the fact that this whole situation reminded him painfully of Jean is why Bobby was at Sookie's side in an instant, wrapping his arms around her and murmuring in her ear.
"It hurts, I know," he said. "But you're strong, I know you are. Come back to me? Please?"
Sookie
She heard him; it was a bit like hearing Bobby's voice from underwater, or through a wall. Sookie tried desperately to turn her attention away from the echo of what had just coursed through her, but her focus had seemingly evaporated. Her body shook in his arms, disobeying all commands to just stand up, relax, and move on.
What she managed to do was clumsily press her face into his neck, feeling the coolness of his skin, allowing that detail to ground her. From there, she did what felt natural, without shields: she spoke without words, using her mind against his.
A picture of Rapture, a flash of them in bed after, a fuzzy memory of their joined hands. She couldn't verbalize what she needed for him to put her back together, nor could she shield him from anything else she brought through the link, but it was a start.
All she needed was help focusing. She'd lock it away like Karla had, before, and she'd come back.
Bobby
And Bobby knew her well enough to know what she was asking, even without words.
And so he pulled up a number of happier memories- their first kiss, skating on the lake at Kellerman's, Sookie's birthday party- and projected those images at her, along with his love and concern. Please. I'm not losing you too. I can't.
Sookie
It took a moment -- not as long as before, but she'd been on the brink for days now. Sookie concentrated on the warmth of the memories, the solidity of Bobby, the realness of here and now.
With her mind away from what she had seen -- what she had felt -- Sookie put the barest of shields back in place. It was enough. With that between her and the pain, she was able to focus.
"I'm here," she whispered after a few seconds, and the shaking finally subsided as she leaned against him, though she didn't uncurl her limbs yet. "I'm here."
Jack
Pop, pop, pop -- such a cheerful sound, if you could ignore the source.
Jack couldn't ignore the source. Or the smell.
He closed his eyes, feeling hopelessly inadequate as he willed all of this to be over. He could do nothing, and he knew it, and --
He waited, and listened, and forced himself to open his eyes again.
Emma
The moment Jaenelle's power ripped free of whatever bonds the young witch used to hold it in check, Emma dropped like a puppet with all her strings cut.
The lights were going out. Jhinka after Jhinka winked out on the astral plane, a spreading Darkness burning through them, devouring the light of other stars. Emma had experienced feeling people die before, in the vampire-world, but never on this scale.
She was dimly aware on some level that her body was screaming, hands clawing at her head in a futile attempt to make it stop, but all her attention was trapped, rooted in place, and she couldn't tear her mind away from the scene in front of her, couldn't seek refuge in the cold safety of her diamond shield. The lights were going out, too fast, far too fast, and to Emma, thirty seconds felt like thirty million years.
Jack
And there Jack was as he heard her scream, reaching an arm around her as tight as he could. He could be her 'friend apart' some other time; right then, all he felt was his love and her pain.
What he was murmuring wasn't exactly English, but the tone was clear: Darling, it'll be all right, we're safe.
Emma
Emma made a keening sound in the back of her throat, desperately trying to curl into a smaller ball and disappear entirely.
<< Hurts, >> she managed, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter. << Is...? >>
Is everyone safe? Is it over? Were more lights going to go out?
Jack
"Don't listen, darling," Jack said, stroking her hair. "I think the worst is over, but -- for the love of god, don't listen."
Emma
Emma tried to nod her agreement, but that just made her head hurt more.
<< M'fine, >> she fibbed promised, keeping her eyes closed and trying to focus on what Jack was doing to block out the noise from all the other minds in the area. << You're safe? >>
Jack
"Of course," Jack lied smoothly. "No one here is hurt at all."
Not physically. Not badly. That was all he could promise.
Hesitantly, he added, "Should you -- shift, so you can't hear for a bit?"
He hated the diamond. He truly did. But it might keep her pain from growing worse.
Emma
"Hit too fast for me to change," she mumbled, but Emma was slowly pulling herself together, separating enough bits of herself out of the maelstrom in her mind to focus.
A moment later she rippled under his hand, the change taking hold almost instantaneously.
"Owwwwwww."
Jack
"Ow now?" Jack asked stiffly, worried. "Or ow from a few moments ago?"
Emma
"Ow from a few moments ago; I just couldn't remember the word I wanted with my head so muddled." Emma sat up, carefully, pushing her hair back from her face.
"This is much better."
Jack
"I thought it might be," Jack said, satisfied. "Stay like that until Ben and Sookie seem all right, hmmm?"
He'd lost any Emma who could comfort him -- he knew what the diamond was like. But that was temporary; she'd be back. Much more important was that she kept her mind intact, and the diamond was the best safeguard against this type of pain.
Emma
"I'll wait until we're far away from here," she promised. "I've got no desire to have my brain leak out my ears."
She knew he disliked having her cut-off from everything, but this was the best option they had until they were safely back at the Hall.
Jack
"Good," Jack said, and kissed a crystalline temple. "I like your brain inside that skull of yours."
Ender
Ender stared up at the sky. Pop pop pop. Was that the sound Formic bodies made when every one of their atoms incinerated themselves? he wondered, distantly. Had they popped, had their queens and their children, had the silence of the simulation room hidden such a stupid, insignificant noise?
He wasn't psychic, and so he didn't feel it. His body felt cold, distant and outside of himself, miles away.
He watched them all come apart and saw Formic ships bursting with horrible light, one after the other, the violence travelling from one to the other with insignificant little pops.
Had that been it?
Ender's body shivered. He saw planets bursting apart like popcorn, vacantly.
He wasn't here.
TahiriThe moment Tahiri had realized what was happening, she'd known it was too late to reinforce her mental shields effectively enough; the loss of life en masse cut through whatever meager shielding she'd managed to throw up before now, and while she'd felt something like it before it had never been anything on this scale.
She'd heard Luke describe Obi-Wan's reaction to the destruction of Alderaan; she'd seen the look in Anakin Solo's eyes when he'd told her a little about what had happened at Centerpoint Station. She understood now, and wished she didn't, what it must have been like for them.
The backlash had her sprawled helplessly on the ground, snarling half-formed Yuuzhan Vong curses against the pain, and instinctively Tahiri retreated behind that part of her nature. She couldn't completely cut herself off from the Force any more -- the melding of her personalities had removed that divide -- but she could try to channel the agony somehow. It was hard, but she was stubborn, and she wasn't going to make things worse for Ben, Raven, Sookie, Karla, Emma, or anyone else who would be suffering under the psychic onslaught as it was.
She just had to . . . hold on, use the pain to strengthen her ability to lock it all down, just a little bit longer. And if a quietly triumphant whisper of "Do-ro'ik vong pratte!" slipped out at any point during it all, she'd deal with it later.
Tara
Tara didn't feel it. Not exactly. Not the way Ben or Sookie or Emma or Jono did.
But she'd been watching auras, and the colors she saw as people processed what they felt were horrible and nauseating. The dancing lights surrounding Jaenelle were worse yet.
She wiped the moisture from her eyes, trying not to be afraid.
Kennedy
Kennedy couldn't sense or see a damn thing, and looking around at her friends, for once, she was glad. This was-- she'd always thought more power was a good thing, but this was horrifying. She didn't have words to explain it, and she wasn't sure she wanted to find them.
Without a word, she moved over to wrap her arms around Tara, needing the comfort as much as she wanted to offer it.
Gabrielle
Gabrielle hit the ground without hesitation when she heard Lucivar's shout, only to look up when she heard the popping noises.
And she badly wished she hadn't.
"No," she whispered half to herself, half a desperate plea that was drowned out by the screaming and the popping and the horrible reality of it all. "No, don't do this, please, no . . ."
Xena, eyes wild with battle madness, sword raised, screaming, "Kill 'em all!"
Gabrielle had been horrified then, but this? This was something else entirely.
Cassidy
Cassidy had never felt or seen anything like the Jhinkas, but whatever power suddenly knocked her to the ground was so much stronger than anything she had ever felt before -- even in Fandom.
When she saw the first deaths outside the shields, she screamed unconsciously, closing her eyes and holding onto whatever was nearest. She clawed at the land, at anything she could to maintain a stable hold as she felt death around her. If she could just stay holding onto the land...
She would probably never be able to unsee the images she had seen before she closed her eyes.
Dinah
Dinah had her shields up in an instant, and it still flattened her. She felt like she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only try to catch her breath as all that death and pain swept through-- and then was nauseatingly, desolately gone in an instant.
She closed her eyes as Jaenelle left. She'd just saved them all. In a sleepwalking starved daze, in a moment of pure rage.
How was there anyone at least not a little afraid of her? Not the power. The will to use it like that....
Jaenelle
It had taken Jaenelle less than thirty seconds to destroy six thousand Jhinka. All that was left of them was a fine red mist that covered everything. The only patches of clean ground were small circles around the people in the courtyard; she had shielded them all from her fury.
"Khevin's dead," she whispered to Karla as she swept back inside.
Karla
Karla tried to tell her to wait, but her voice wouldn't work. She tried to get to her feet, but her legs felt like jelly.
She finally remembered what Jaenelle had said about spirals.
The maelstrom.
Inside. She had to get inside. She had to check on her friends, on the landens, see to Jaenelle. She couldn't just curl up in a ball and cry for a week, no matter how much she wanted to.
Karla didn't fear her best friend, but suddenly the gap between them felt ever so much wider.
[And we are done--though just for the night! NFI, NFB, OOC is golden. Warning in place for death of an NPC and ultraviolence. Text taken, spindled, mutilated, and folded into origami cranes from Anne Bishop's Heir to the Blood, Chapter Thirteen. Preplayed with rockstars, yo. Plot post masterlist found here.
Also, that long ping about Jaenelle being even prettier now? Straight from the text. Oh, Anne Bishop. Why you so crazy?]