"Let him go.”
Jane strode through the destruction – through piles of ash and cars half vanished, roads erupted with crystals and spiralling metal lightning bolts. None of it mattered. None of it would be spared.
“Jane!” Behind her, some fifty feet away in a parking lot, she heard Wally’s voice. She didn’t look back at him, spared not so much as a glance. She had only eyes for the priest upon his mountain, and the figure chained at his side.
Slowly, atop the steps of his crystal citadel, Fredericks rose from his throne.
“You want him?” the old man asked. A small, deranged smile played over his mouth, and his voice called out with a ringing peal. “This one?”
“Hurt him, and I’ll tear you limb from limb,” Jane swore.
The priest laughed, taking another step until he neared the edge of the precipice. “You cannot beat me. Look around you. No power on Earth can stop me.”
“Yeah?” snarled Jane, “Wanna bet?”
“Jane!” Matt cried. On top of the mountain beside Fredericks’ crystal throne she could see him struggling, pulling against diamond chains. “Don’t, it’s a-”
“Silence,” Fredericks hushed, and instantly bands of iron swept over Matt’s mouth, leaving him to fruitlessly struggle, unable to do anything but moan.
Jane bared her teeth. “I’ll kill you,” she hissed.
“I’d like to see you try,” the man answered, and said no further.
BANG! An explosion, a cataclysm of light rended the very air as Jane shot towards Fredericks, a blinding golden comet that slammed into his mountain, pulverising it, shattering into a million glass pieces, but as the diamond fell Fredericks leapt forward, over the top of her, the air turning to obsidian platforms where he stepped, carrying him down and away. He spun in mid‑air, facing back towards the crumbling castle and Jane, and in an instant his right hand flicked and the mountain of broken shards turned to boiling silver, a tsunami of molten metal that collapsed upon Jane even as Matt was hurled free, landing in a chunk of lawn which slid to liquid stone, binding him in place. The Pastor chuckled but inside the smothering silver shone rays of blazing gold, and in an instant the metal exploded, blasted out in a searing rain. Fredericks shielded his face, paling as Jane shot towards him, raising one‑two‑three‑four‑five, wall after wall of solid barriers between him and her, diamond and marble and ice and titanium, stumbling backwards as his hands desperately flailed, but Jane roared and just kept coming, shattering one after the other with hammering golden fists. The last barrier shattered and Jane’s fingers lunged, an inch from Fredericks neck, but at the last second the priest dropped, sliding into liquefied stone down beneath the Earth. Jane launched back into the sky, cupping her hands down, preparing to raze everything with a titanic golden blast – but before she could unleash the energy the ground disgorged Fredericks beside Matt and the rock encasing him flew between the Pastor and Jane, shielding the priest from view.
Jane roared, the light in her hands vanishing, and she dropped from the sky, strafing low and rapid as all around her erupted giant bladed spears of steel and crystal, cutting at her cape, aiming for her heart-
BAM! She snapped into place an inch from Matt and the Pastor, feet carving tracks in the ground, fierce arms smashing through and grabbing Matt’s shoulders, spinning him into her with her momentum, carrying them both off, carrying them through-
But beneath her the Pastor’s eyes blazed, and before Jane got ten feet he pointed and shouted some strangled yell- and to Jane’s blood curdling horror Matt gasped, his body slumped, and he turned to ash in her arms.
Jane dropped, her chest shaking, dust streaming between her gloves. She stumbled to a halt, sinking in the mud, unable to see anything but the emptiness in front of her, unable to breathe. Behind her, she heard the Pastor chuckling, then laughing, then cackling, because he knew, she knew, they all knew. Dust could not be healed. There was nothing of Matt to bring back.
No. NO!
Jane screamed and hurtled back through time. The strain from the New York City time travel attempts, the danger, the pain of it, everything lay forgotten as she threw herself into the cosmic chaos, the howling lifelines snapping all around her, threw herself unyielding back through the technicolour darkness, refusing to let it claim her, only seconds-
BAM! She snapped into place an inch from Matt and the Pastor, feet carving tracks out of the Earth, having shot forward low to the ground and dodged the erupting razor columns, but this time instead of reaching for Matt she kept going, fist blazing towards Fredericks, lunging for the kill-
BOOM! A sudden wind, a sudden explosion knocked Jane back, but in moments she skidded to a halt, fingers clawing gouges in the rock, and she saw Fredericks too stumbling, sprinting away, swallowed up by walls of glass closing around him a box, folding out in replicated fractals, a sudden square maze spreading up from nothing through which the Pastor’s reflection spread like a drop of blood. Jane turned to grab Matt but he shot free from the earth, bound in silver spirals, dragged inside the crystal maze where his reflection joined Fredericks’. Jane snarled and shot forward, slamming fists into the panels, shattering one after another, the shards dissolving into thin air and hissing, odourless gas, but the substance could do nought but burn against Jane’s barrier and she had no need to breathe.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Crash! Crash! Crash! The maze was sundered, and there in the middle, on a white stone dais, eyes wide and reeling, stood Fredericks, one hand grasping Matt.
“Back!” he demanded, “Back!” He threw up his free hand and a wave of diamond blades descended from nothing, aiming for her eyes, but Jane plunged forward her hands and let loose a torrential blast of gold, vaporising the projectiles and racing towards Pastor Fredericks who at the last second uttered a wordless scream-
And again Matt disintegrated.
The Pastor’s body twitched and stumbled, the left side missing, little more than a blackened corpse. But his hand still clung to where Matt had been an instant earlier, the human still gone, turned to ashes.
Again Jane screamed.
Back, back again now. She did not care about the possibilities that sang to her, the roiling cosmos night or the yearning infinite void. She did not want to understand, she did not want to see, did not care about the colours, she simply hurtled through, her fury unwavering, back along the twisting threads, until-
Crash! Crash! Crash! The maze was sundered, and there in the middle, on a white stone dais, eyes wide and reeling, stood Fredericks, one hand grasping Matt.
“Back!” he demanded, “Back!” He threw up his free hand and a wave of diamond blades descended from nothing, aiming for her eyes, but Jane held up a defiant hand in a shining barrier and one after another they crashed and broke against the unstoppable disk of gold. She stood there, silent, shoulders heaving, teeth bared, golden light spilling from her eyes.
Fredericks stumbled back two steps, the white stone evaporating so he was standing only in mud. His eyes bored into her, at once searing and terrified. He shoved Matt roughly away, where he fell, still bound and gagged in metal.
The combatants stood there, facing one another, dwarfed on all sides by towering crystal ruins, flanked by coloured earth and misting steel, ten paces apart, feet planted. Neither moved.
“Nothing you can do can stop me,” snarled Jane, fixing the priest with a gaze of pure fury.
For some reason, the Pastor laughed. “Yes. I see it now,” he said, wide mouth split in a madman’s smile, “I cannot win. You will kill me.” Yet his teeth still bared in a demented grin, and his hand raised towards Matt. “But you cannot save him.”
“I’m faster than-”
“No!” Fredericks cried, the word ringing out between a mindless wail and an insane shriek, “You’re not faster than thought. Not you; not anyone! All I have to do is think – think! – and he is gone. Scattered to the wind. Nothing.”
“If he dies, I’ll kill you,” Jane swore, gloves balling into fists. Away from her, still gagged and bound, Matt stared at her, his eyes watery, pleading.
“Yes,” the priest replied, his smile manic, “But he’ll still be gone.”
The world lapsed into silence. For the longest time, Jane and Fredericks just stood, an inhuman stalemate, eyes never leaving, while all around them unnatural winds swirled and sirens wailed in the distance, though neither paid any of it any heed. Five feet away from Fredericks Matt squirmed against his restraints, straining to break free, but he could not shift the iron encircling him. Jane’s glare met the priest’s wordless smile. Her fingers clenched, unclenched, clenched again. The Pastor’s hand remained pointed at Matt.
Slowly, his lips split into a grin.
“The great Lady Dawn,” he spoke, and the words rang high with mockery, “The supposed saviour of humanity, brought into submission, beaten by a mere man. What good does all your power do you? All your fury, your impotent rage? I have your measure,” he crowed, “I know your weakness. And you will be mine, this world will be mine, and it will know me, and it will worship.”
Jane said nothing. The priest’s smile widened.
“Fool!” he shouted, “Fool! Thief of powers not meant for you, gifts given the chosen of God! You spit in his face, you think yourself above his decrees, but now you see his power! Now you face his champion, a true champion, chosen by God the Almighty, bearing gifts you can barely imagine, powers you can barely dream! What can you do despoiler? What say you treacherous Eve? God has blessed me, I hold his strength within me, and as long as I live the boy will remain mine, and with a thought I will unmake him, remake and reshape the world-!”
Jane’s mouth twitched. Her eyes flashed and narrowed. And suddenly, she knew what to do.
She leapt forward, racing towards the Pastor, who abruptly paled and let his words drop mid‑sentence, speaking inaudible, pointing towards-
But Jane wasn’t aiming for Matt. She flew straight at Philip Fredericks, light burning away her gloves-
And in an instant, she held him, bare fingers wrapped around his windpipe. And a second later, Matt turned to dust.
Jane’s fingers squeezed, but the priest’s eyes shone with triumph.
“You lose,” he whispered, “You-”
Then Jane dropped her final coin and absorbed his power.
A second too late Fredericks eyes flashed in understanding. He wriggled and squirmed, face flushed with panic, trying to escape – but Jane did not waver. He would not move.
In the depths of her great consciousness, a desert of red satin spread and wrapped around Jane’s ring finger, rolling beneath it endless sands, the minute movement of a trillion shifting grains, shapes infinite and ever changing, hers to remake, hers to command.
And with a scoff, she dropped Fredericks into the dirt. She hurled him to the ground and the priest went sprawling, tumbling into the mud. Jane paid him no heed – only turned her gaze towards Matt’s ashes, and raised a trembling hand. Her eyes blazed red.
And slowly, slowly, like leaves swirling in an eddy, the particles before her spun and spiralled, drawing in together, reassembling once more into a man. Legs, then arms, then torso. A perfect body, formed from ashes, laying on the ground, undamaged.
It was over in the space of moments. Matt Callaghan lay before her, pale and lifeless, yet whole. Lacking only one thing.
Jane’s eyes flashed white. And with a gasp, Matt woke up.
“No,” he murmured, arms twitching with sudden movement, hands moving weakly over his face, his eyes unfocused, writhing weakly on the ground, “No. No.”
Jane left him to his confusion. He probably needed a few moments to collect himself, she reasoned, his understanding of where he was, what had happened to him. She’d give him that. Jane back to Pastor Philip Fredericks, the old man laying splayed in the mud, marching towards him with her eyes cold and her hand open.
Beneath her gaze, the priest’s shoulders were slumped – but his face bore no fear or resignation. On the contrary, his eyes shone up at Jane in soft, heartfelt wonder, and trails of joyful tears streamed silently down his cheeks. His mouth moved, summoning whispers from the air – and when his words finally trickled out to reach her they held only tranquil madness and quiet, sobbing relief.
“It’s done,” he whispered, tears cascading down his face, glittering streams of diamond, “I’ve done it. Jane, oh Jane, you have to understand, I-”
Jane disintegrated him. Her eyes flashed red, the whites and the irises of them, and Pastor Philip Fredericks became dust, never to speak or move again.
“Fall,” Jane spat. And the dust was silent.