The darkness faded, retreating as the sun regained its former glory, light spilling across the ruins of battle.
Obsidion's fury—once uncontrollable, once monstrous—was gone.
Now, he floated—peaceful, unconscious, weightless in the air.
Absynthe hovered nearby, barely maintaining her own balance, watching as Obsidion's red hair returned—its natural color untouched once more.
Yet, the scars remained.
His skin still bore the blackened corruption, tar-like remnants scarring his abdomen, twisting across his hands like an eternal brand.
His hair drifted in the fading energy currents, a quiet reminder of what he had endured.
Time felt slow, as though the world itself held its breath.
Absynthe's vision blurred—the gravity around her slipping, fatigue threatening to pull her downward.
Not fully.
Just enough to remind her of the battle's cost.
Below, Synthena struggled, attempting to summon a stable surface—but her energy was spent.
Her hands flickered, remnants of her abilities pulsing weakly, fading like embers in dying fire.
No light shone from her palms anymore.
The glow that once commanded reality itself was reduced to nothing but a whisper of exhaustion.
Her crystals protruding from her skin pulsed—a dying light, dimming with each second.
The patterns etched along her skin followed suit, their once vibrant radiance fading in jagged intervals, flickering as if resisting their inevitable extinction.
The summoned structure cracked and faded instantly, dissolving before it could take form.
She could barely stand.
Her eyes filled with grief—knowing the fall could kill Obsidion if nothing caught him in time.
She had no magic left.
No power to slow him.
So—she did the only thing she could.
With a reckless, impulsive sprint, she leapt, launching herself underneath him just as his unconscious body began to descend.
THUD!
Obsidion crashed onto her back, the sheer force flattening Synthena beneath him.
Her eyes spun in dazed circles, breath forcibly knocked from her lungs, her limbs limp beneath his weight.
"Eeeerr… you're so fat… Sid…"
Synthena's final words were little more than a dazed murmur before her strength gave out.
Her body slumped, completely spent, her limbs refusing to move.
Absynthe bolted forward, grabbing Obsidion and dragging him off her, struggling against his dead weight as Synthena flopped onto her back, eyes spinning in half-conscious delirium.
She stared up at the sky, her mind floating somewhere between exhaustion and mischief, murmuring silly insults at Obsidion's unconscious form, her voice a barely coherent whisper.
It wasn't graceful.
It wasn't heroic.
But it was, somehow, exactly what this moment needed.
Absynthe glanced over at Synthena, amusement flickering in her tired eyes.
A chuckle escaped her lips.
"You're the fattie's heroic landing cushion once again."
Synthena didn't even try to sit up.
She raised one trembling hand, fingers barely holding together the effort—a slow, dramatic thumbs-up.
Her breath came out as a weak puff, her body completely flattened beneath Obsidion's unconscious weight.
A moment passed.
Silence.
Then—a groggy, almost pathetic mumble.
"I hate everything."
*****************************************************************************
The crystallized table pulsed, casting fractured light across the chamber. The five figures sat in deliberate silence, eyes locked on the battlefield footage flickering before them.
The destruction.
The interference.
The anomaly.
Victor Halethorne—The Strategist—spoke first, his voice cold, precise.
"We had them contained. We were ready. And then—this interruption."
Dr. Aria Lorentis—The Engineer—barely glanced at him.
"Correction. This discovery."
Dorian Vance—The Enforcer—rested back in his chair, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"They're unusual. That much is clear."
Elira Orlannis—The Visionary—smiled faintly, fingers trailing along the table's crystalline surface.
"More than unusual. More than disruption. They are a force written into fate."
Sylas Vern—The Rebel—gave an amused sigh, shifting in his seat.
"Spare us the prophecy, Elira. We need action, not philosophy."
Elira's smile didn't falter.
"Fate does not warn—it unfolds. They are part of the cycle, whether they realize it or not."
Victor exhaled slowly.
"Eliminate them now, and we risk exposure. We need control—containment, not chaos."
Aria leaned forward, fascinated.
"The gravity manipulation… it's unique. I want her studied."
Dorian scoffed.
"You 'want' too many things, Doctor. We need action."
Sylas tapped the table, thoughtful.
"We watch them. Track them. Push where we must."
Victor considered for a long moment.
Then—he made his decision.
"Proceed carefully. Find their weaknesses. Prepare our next move."
The crystallized table pulsed again—quiet anticipation settling over the room.
The Board of Five had spoken.
*************************************************************************************
Back in the cabin, above the basement, where the bean bags remained scattered and the hole in the wall still stood—a relic of Obsidion's first encounter.
Synthena was in the background, dancing around, searching for anything to cover the protruding hole. She twisted and turned, arms full of discarded objects, her focus fleeting.
Meanwhile, Celestia examined Obsidion's corrupted form, her heightened intelligence shifting into action.
Her second pair of eyes flickered open beneath her main ones—glowing, radiant white against her cheeks.
Absynthe, casually watching over her shoulder, turned—then jumped back instantly.
Her arms flew up defensively, her face twisting into disbelief.
"Oh my gosh, what's wrong with your face!?"
Celestia barely reacted.
Her hand hovered over Obsidion's frame, her main eyes closed, the glowing pair remaining open as she concentrated.
She scoffed at Absynthe's reaction, pushing herself up with an annoyed posture, walking towards the water bottle resting on the table.
Absynthe watched her pass, her expression still visibly shocked.
In the background, Synthena lost focus—just long enough for the wood she was holding to slip, crashing onto her toes.
She hissed sharply, grabbing her foot, hopping in place with a pained yelp.
Absynthe snapped back to reality, eyes darting toward Celestia.
"Is your face okay? Does that… hurt when it happens?"
Her voice was genuinely curious, hands lifting toward Celestia's face, hesitantly reaching to touch.
Celestia, now gripping her water bottle, didn't hesitate.
She whacked Absynthe's hand away before her fingers could make contact—an effortless deflection.
Her main eyes opened, and the glowing pair sealed shut once more.
Absynthe blinked, utterly bewildered.
Celestia took a long, slow sip of water, letting the cool liquid settle as if it were the most satisfying thing in the world.
Absynthe wasn't done.
Her chibi-like face, round and expressive, filled with radiant curiosity, eyes wide enough to consume her entire expression.
One hand hung loosely at her side.
The other? Pointing directly at Celestia's lips.
"So… um. Does it?"
Her voice spiked with curiosity, no longer fleeting—now persistent, eager, demanding. Determined to know.
Celestia leaned against the table, wiping her lips with quiet satisfaction.
She tilted her head back slightly, gazing toward the roof, eyes shimmering with thought.
Then—without hurry, without urgency—she set the water bottle down.
Her fingers curled around it for a brief moment before she exhaled softly, eyes lowering.
The glow dimmed.
She closed her eyes, then opened them once more.
Her gaze locked onto Absynthe's inquisitive frame, unrelenting curiosity practically radiating from her.
A pause.
A moment charged with anticipation.
Then—Celestia finally spoke.
Celestia exhaled softly, her fingers resting lightly against the table's edge.
"First off… no, it doesn't hurt."
She shifted her weight, her emerald eyes flickering as she observed Absynthe's unwavering curiosity.
"Just like you, it's my silver veins."
She raised a hand slightly, fingers flexing as if to emphasize the point.
"When I focus—just enough, with my eyes closed—they open."
Her tone was measured, effortless.
"They heighten my intelligence for exactly thirty seconds. No more."
She took a slow, deliberate sip of her water, then continued.
"After that, I get dehydrated. If I push past the limit, I lose focus entirely."
Her gaze settled on Absynthe, cool and certain.
"It's not a power. It's a calculation."
************************************************************************
Celestia's emerald eyes locked onto Absynthe with unwavering intensity.
"You get it, right?"
Her voice was measured, cool—expectant.
Absynthe's expression shifted, the shock melting away as her face returned to normalcy.
Their gazes remained locked—silent, unbroken.
In the background, Synthena worked obliviously, hammering wooden planks into the damaged wall, attempting to patch the destruction left behind.
The rhythmic sound of nails meeting wood echoed through the cabin, but neither Absynthe nor Celestia acknowledged it.
They stood apart—distant, yet tethered in understanding.