**************

Wyatt Graves

My soul pulls back from the death of Marshall as everything shakes. This tremble is different from the rapid, soul-stirring heartbeats of earlier. Even as Johnny places me on the ground by Tomas to help Blake fight, her dozens of controlled Undead merrily railing against a bunch of beasts and demons, the battle pauses. And everyone, literally everyone, including the beasts and the Undead under Blake's Absolution, stops to gaze up.

A thunderous shake rocks the world, reality seeming to split as a pillar of compressed air soars into the sky, entering the storm clouds above with a spear of thunder. Then, as if ordained by some God, the skies part, shining a radiant sun onto the earth below.

My jaw hangs open as I feel the aftereffects of Marshall's final swing with a whistling breeze and heated air. Everyone feels the aftereffects before the world pauses for a moment. As it does, I feel it deep down. The Metaphor given to me by my Sigil is simple, for more than any other as a single man's act has given me the answer. The prison of suffering can only be broken through by sacrifice. My jaw slides down as I gaze at the sky.

As the chaos of conflict in the streets of Bent swirls around me, a bizarre calm settles over the battlefield. Time seems to stand still, and the world holds its breath, withstanding the aftermath of the General's final, devastating attack.

The reverberations of his strike ripple through the air as rain pours and slams to the earth beyond the walls of Bent, allowing us to see the downpour yet not feel it. The Unyielding Wall compresses the clouds with his strike so much that the border of water is more waterfall than a rainstorm. The sheer power and intensity of the blast reave through the entirety of Bent. Buildings cave, buckle, and roll from the aftershocks. Beasts are thrown into the air as a hurricane forms, using us as the eye of the storm. Realizing the danger coming, I dive for cover and wrap my hands over my head, attempting to survive.

The hurricane's winds howl with a ferocity unmatched, threatening to tear apart anything in their path. Structures crumble and collapse, their once formidable systems reduced to rubble. Beasts, driven wild by the tumultuous storm, become airborne projectiles, their menacing forms hurtling through the air. Even demons, bolstered by their Ether, struggle to remain on the ground from the winds that shake the world.

Yet, above, the sky is clear, the sun shining down upon us.

I navigate this maelstrom of destruction with every ounce of skill and instinct I've honed over the many months of constant battle. Squinting my eyes through the wind, I find Earl, the frail man, lifted into the air by the tempest as Primrose tries to pull him back down. Each step is treacherous, each movement a dance with the screaming winds as I haul myself forward. I grit my teeth and compel Chainlink Boots onto my feet as the Bloody Palm stretches and tightens my grip. Debris hurtles at me as I get close, my voice screaming toward them over the winds.

"Primrose! Earl! HOLD ON!"

The final act of Marshall is not something an Angel should be capable of. This is Godlike. Winds howl with the anger of a deity, stones catapult through the air with the wrath of a God, and the sun shines from above with the callousness of an immortal being.

Nonetheless, I push on while Primrose can only nod to me, unable to waste any other focus or effort. Foot by foot, I progress with the Bloody Palm keeping me close to the ground as we continue. I dodge falling debris, leap over crumbling obstacles, and weave through the air guided by my artifact of a hand.

Meanwhile, I find others struggling around me but who are too far to help. Virgil and Abraham are caught by Skyswain, the woman fighting the winds with her wings, as Abraham aids them with Nightmares to hold them down. Millie, Johnny, and Tomas are hunkered down, the newest Angel tethering them to the earth with two stable fists into the ground. I witness Blake, Clumsy, and Frozen as the latter endeavors to hold them to the ground with ice constructs as Blake wraps them all with ghostly whips.

I even catch a glimpse of a burning pyre of a man soaring through the sky, entangled with a shadow. Is that? No... it can't be...

"FUCK YOU BITCH"

It is...

The sound of Bonfire's unforgettable voice flies away into the distance as the wind carries his flaming body, unphased by the water in the air.

The rain pours down relentlessly, carried by the wind so that it drenches me to the bone. The sky above is placid, but that does not matter in the slightest. The wind whips at my face, threatening to throw me off balance. But I press on, undeterred by the elements. I know that the storm is a manifestation of the power and chaos unleashed by the Marshall's final attack, proof of the old man's life of struggle. This is not the act of some God, even if it appears to be the case. It is spurred on by a man, nothing else. Which means I can force through it. But... if this is Marshall's final strike, would Vincent Harvey's every act reach this level? Surely not, right?

With every passing moment, I become more acutely aware of the fragility of my surroundings. The fortress, once a symbol of strength and resilience, now stands battered and vulnerable. The very ground beneath my feet quakes with each violent gust of wind. But I remain steadfast as I near Earl. But, as I reach within only a dozen feet away or so, Primrose's hand slips off Earl's.

My heart drops as I slam my right arm into the ground, mimicking Tomas' feat of staying on the floor as I rip out my left arm, a hastily formed Leash stretching out toward Earl. Letting my mind fall into the skill, it lengthens as I feel the actual test of my months of training. The Ether expands, reaching dozens of feet long as Earl enters the sky, but I fall short. It won't stretch far enough, and I can't force it. That's not how Willful Strand works.

Wetness enters my eyes as I realize Earl will not survive being flung into the atmosphere like Bonfire could with his flame as propulsion. But right as the young man flies away, screaming at the top of his lungs, the Bloody Palm intervenes on its own. No asking, no begging, no nothing. It stretches out my arm, the skin splitting into bone and tendrils of flesh as my arm extends several more feet, allowing the Leash to grab Earl.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank---!"

A hundred thanks leave my mouth meant for the artifact as I haul Earl back to the earth. And the impact of him hitting me knocks the air out of my lungs. However, I don't wait long and speak with a hasty breath.

"Are you okay!?"

I have to scream even to have a chance of being heard over the roar of the hurricane, and he nods as he shows me his hands. They cut up really bad. He can hardly hold his Coil.

"I'll live, but my hands are screwed!"

Fuck. A glance at his eyes tells me not to even think about it for now as Earl's eyebrows furrow in thought, the typical thing he does when thinking of a solution, likely focusing on this whole situation. I don't intrude with any other words, and instead, I wrap an arm around him, gradually forcing our way to Primrose.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Yet, the moment we reach her, the winds calm, and things, including beasts, drop to the floor aimlessly. Distantly, I hear a foul burst of 'fucks and whores' before a dull slam. Is he?

"Die!"

Yup, he's still alive, just really far away.

A hand shakes me out of listening to him as Earl points into the sky. There, I find a figure cloaked in magenta with wings, flying away with a familiar frame. Azra. The only difference is that Azra doesn't have her violent fetters anymore. The Virtued Pygmy's body is ruined, burnt, and broken, hanging limply. He did it.

And so, I stand in awe, knowing this was the General's final act, his last blaze of glory. He poured every ounce of his being into this perdition of destruction, extinguishing his own flame in the process. Every battle stays still even after the wind ends while everyone recovers, and I see Johnny climb his way up onto the top of the rubble and glance around.

In this moment of stillness, I can almost hear the echoes of his battle cries and see the determination in his eyes again. He was a force of nature, a tempest of fury and resilience, his final strike befitting that of a God. And now, his fire has been quelled, leaving behind a void that is both haunting and poignant.

The world is so tranquil. So quiet. The demons and Pymgies remain tranquil as well. No one talks; we simply stand and look around as the entire fortress is ruined. Not even the innards made of concrete and steel remain. It is all toppled and obliterated. The highest piece of stone, including the old wall, stands at a mere five feet.

I cannot help but feel a mixture of admiration and sorrow for the fallen General. Marshall Travis gave everything he had, sacrificing himself for the cause he believed in. His life was a blazing inferno, consuming all in its path, and now it has been extinguished, leaving behind only the ashes of his memory.

Yet... as I look out, clambering next to the silent Johnny, I discover that the Pygmies and demons are retreating. Those that aren't are already crushed and killed by the winds, rubble, and initial strike. And along that line of running enemies, I only find two lights of magenta. Marshall killed all but two?

Incredible.

Godlike.

He shattered the clouds and called for a hurricane from the storm above.

The echoes of the General's final attack fade away as the battlefield stirs back to life. The storm clouds close in once more as the rain converges on our region of the fortress. And as the clouds come in, the winds pick up once more. They don't rise to the level of the hurricane, but they aren't far off.

"Gather up! We need to get the fuck out of here! That was only the start! Marshall's fucked up the atmosphere for miles with his Ether! I'd be surprised if this didn't end in a temporary Crossroads. I can't see an end to this storm! LET'S GO!"

Johnny shouts to everyone nearby as they start to come together as the rain begins to fall and downpour. I can't help but gasp at Johnny's discovery. He can't see the end? Even with his blindness from Glitch, he still has the sharpest eyes in all the frontier. How massive is this storm? While I question reality, Frozen ekes out a question to the gunslinger when we get together.

"What about Bonfire? Are we gonna just leave him?"

Johnny's eyes squint, almost as if he's having trouble seeing, before he glances at Tomas. Then, he speaks with a sigh.

"Tomas, can you get these fools to the train before the storm makes it unable to leave? You don't have to wait for us. I'll get the idiot and catch up eventually."

The Wolf agrees, stepping down from the rock and heading north. His shoulders are sagged, and cuts reign deeply into his flesh, but Tomas stands up for the job.

"Fine by me. Just don't die. And if you see any soldiers who are still alive, save 'em, okay?"

Johnny flips a thumb up before departing, kicking off the stone as he bolts toward where we last heard Bonfire. From there, we make our way northward, along the chilling silence inundated with only the hastening winds and falling rain.

I pull my overcoat, Adumbral, closer to my body to stave off the cold. And as we move away, I stumble with exhaustion as, for a moment, a split second, I think I see a shining, luminant crystal where Marshall died.

*********************

Emmet "Bonfire" Knox

I spit out a tooth as I lie on the ground, my flames extinguished by the falling rain. Only a few from me lies Darkstep, her body burned and ruined. Yet, her Ether still remains, and those strings above her haul the bitch to her feet.

She can't speak or gloat. I burned her skull off before the winds even hit. But the silvery light kept biting away at my fire, fighting to keep her alive. At least if I burn myself bad enough, even the Darklight recedes. And now, the rain falls like a monsoon, preventing my flames from building up beyond that of red, a middling pity from the violent previous.

But... I'm not a quitter. Ma ain't raise... haha. That was Speedy's phrase. Funny how things jumble like that over time. I never saw my mother. Meanwhile, Speedy was the opposite. He ran away because she was crazed and far too overprotective. Tyron Grimes ran from his family with as much speed as he could, only to die in a barfight.

The thought of him sparks a light at my fingers as Darkstep stumbles toward me, her face indistinct and charred to a crisp. Almost there, dammit!

Ah... fine.

I'll use something other than fire. I've burned her enough. Fumbling into my pocket with my similarly charred fingers, I manage to find a bullet, the gunpowder within simply waiting for a spark. The bullet is something special, though. Made by Earl for me. He always says I need to have backup plans in case fire don't work.

Grinning, even as Darkstep nears, her hands covered in Ether, I spot a flap of wings nearby. Looking over, I notice that the same Darklight that flows from Darkstep leaks from a break in the bird's wing. And the moment I discover it, the Manipulator that killed Woody charges at me recklessly.

"Find something important to you?"

Knowing she can't answer, I ask the rhetorical question as I grapple onto a slim metal bar above me and haul myself to my feet. I barely manage to evade her charge, as it is pitiful and nearly out of Ether, yet so am I. Stumbling from the dodge, I trip and land only a few feet from the trapped bird.

Smiling from ear to ear as water splashes into my mouth, I place the bullet between my thumbs and have Blaze ignite it, momentarily overpowering the rain.

"Too bad. Let's see how you like it."

The bullet lacks the power of most without a barrel to build force, but Earl knew that would happen. He put some extra oomph into it. So instead of only detonating weakly and slamming into the bird before stopping as the animal dies, the bullet nearly tears off my finger as it obliterates the bird into nothingness. A bang to my right as the bird turns to spiraling feathers draws my attention, and I laugh aloud when I see it, my voice breaking through the downpour.

"Hahahaaha! How do you like it!? Is that how you saw me?! Are you blind now!? I wondered how you could see without eyes!"

Coughing and straining to move, I raise until I stand before Darkstep, her once formidable presence reduced to a shattered husk. The pouring rain masks the sound of her feeble struggles, her blind and powerless form thrashing against the remnants of the annihilated fortress. Fury consumes her, evident in how her fists and legs collide with debris, rocks, and stone, each striking an expression of impotent rage.

I wanted this fight to last longer. For her to scream some more. But she's already died once. I just wished I could have savored that one, too.

And I smile despite how much I loathe rain, not for how it affects my abilities but for how Orange died in a hurricane falling to his death. I smile so wide and laugh so hard that my head rears to the sky. Droplets fall upon me, slowly bringing my eyes down to meet her vacant body.

Our battle across Bent has taken its toll on her, leaving her voiceless and stripped of sight. Her attempts to scream are futile, for my burns have stripped it away just as she took away my friends. It is a small victory, a taste of my power over her. I relish the sight of her futile attempts to communicate her anger and despair. It feels lovely, almost... euphoric, to see her struggle. Such a powerful foe, a legendary woman, one that strikes fear into thousands, tens of thousands through the Territories, was brought down by me. By me. Blackreach's Rat.

Raindrops cascade down her discolored and charred face, mingling with the tears she can no longer shed. Her once-piercing gaze is now empty and hollow, devoid of the fierceness that once defined her. I watch, an insidious pleasure coursing through me, as I approach her with purpose.

With each step, I concentrate my Ether at the tip of my finger, preparing for a Firebolt. It is challenging to do during the rain and with my pounding headache, but the satisfaction of victory fuels my determination to end her suffering. This is the moment I have longed for, the opportunity to fulfill my promise.

As I draw closer, the rain intensifies, drenching us both in its relentless downpour. The world around us fades into a blur of shadows and distorted shapes. It is a fitting backdrop for our final confrontation, an arena of destruction and despair. Her futile struggles only serve to heighten my resolve.

I raise my hand, forming a finger gun with my blackened fingers, my grip steady and unwavering, to end her finally. My now-gone nail points at her heart, expecting this to be the core of her Ether.

But even as I revel in the sight of her helplessness, a sliver of remorse tugs at my conscience. I see her dreams, hopes, and aspirations that all possess, yet after a moment of consideration, I do not care. She took from me.

So, I'll take from her.

I push the Ether out, the gaseous Ether spiraling as it explodes a gust of condensed Blaze forward. It flies without sound, the noise obscured by the rain, and digs into her chest as she squirms, burrowing into her heart. And then, with a moment of focus, I have it explode, the fire detonating outward like a seed into a flower.

It's terrific but only lasts a moment, for when the fire reaches the air, the drenching rain puts out my flame.

Sighing, I let my knees give out and flop onto the stone below, ignoring the pain of the fall. The rain continues to fall, and I simply look at her, the dead woman. The rain simply falls, falls, falls, and falls, leaving me cold.

It's odd now that she's gone.

The fire... the anger... it's still there. None of it has disappeared or vanished. It's not at all like when Speedy or Orange died. Though... I think I just pushed down that fury.

This is the first time I've embraced it. Am I a bad person? Probably.

But... that's alright. I don't need to be good. I just need to have fun with my buddies before we all die. The rain melds with my face as I have issues fathoming whether the liquid is tears or rain.

Time passes without my eyes moving from her body, and the Darklight consistently gets smacked back down by the pouring rain as it only continues to build. What a storm... Every droplet of rain carries hints of Marshall's Ether.

My mind trails off, not thinking of anything in particular, but a hand on my shoulder brings me to focus. I twist around and glance behind me, only to find Johnny staring at me. His eyes flicker to Darkstep before he speaks.

"You got her?"

I nod.

"Of course. To a crisp."