:Don’t resist.:

Chapter 25Cym

The soft but strong voice, which was decidedly not Marshall’s, came from the same place Cym felt his magic reside.

Out of ideas, out of time, and very soon to be out of resources, Cym complied. The void opened wide and swallowed him whole.

:Very good. Now follow me, and I will show you what you need to know.:

A tug at Cym’s center gave him something to latch on to.

Time meant nothing to Cym as he followed the voice through the terrible void. As he went, he felt his sense of self being stripped away. All the mental illusions he’d built in order to protect himself were falling to the side as he continued on.

Cym watched them as they fell away, and he could see how tightly he’d clung to being a victim and the toxic energy that had attached to the concept. Once it was released from him, it became a glimmering cluster of light that drifted off and vanished into the nothingness of the void.

As each illusion left Cym—his need for independence, his insistence that he was useless, his newly found fear that the only thing that made him special was how Fourteen looked at him—he felt more and more himself, like he was waking up and becoming the person he always was but had forgotten.

Finally, he was left with his truest self in this timeless place, and he realized the tug on his magic had stopped. He found himself in the middle of an endless sea of his own magic, and it was the coolest thing he’d ever experienced. Coming from someone who had firsthand knowledge of the firmness of Fourteen’s pecs, that was saying something.

:Remember this place, Stillbringer. You will have to find it on your own next time.:

Cym wanted to tell the mysterious, bossy voice to eat a butt, but he felt so chill that he couldn’t be bothered.

He could have sat and reveled in the stillness of simply existing for eternity, but he knew he had a job to finish, so with intention, rather than panic, he willed himself back to Marshall and the shrinking puddle. Up he rose through layer upon layer of nothing until it gave way to form and thought. Behind him, trailing like a cloak, was the infinite stillness of his magic.

As Cym rose, he came up underneath the small puddle of purple, now only large enough to take one monster at a time into itself. He reached out a hand to the bottom of the pond and felt the stillness flow through him and into the pond, doubling, then tripling it in size. Stillness continued to pass through him into the pond until they both seemed to be infinite.

:Cym? What did you do?:

Smiling, Cym accessed Marshall’s eyes, wanting to see the results of their handiwork.

Marshall had slowed time back to a crawl, probably to give their friends time to escape, but Cym willed it to resume its usual steady march. They had all the resources they were going to get. Win or lose, it was time to see if it would be enough.

The purple barrier was flickering and had contracted down to a tiny dome that barely covered them. Cym’s and Marshall’s bodies were only inches away from the hordes assembled against them and it was only a matter of seconds before they were overrun.

A shudder went through the air and the world did a sort of hiccup, and Cym watched as their barrier brightened and hummed.

Demons were packed around them in a tight wall, but anywhere there was a gap, Cym could make out the colors of Jack’s and Adelle’s magic as they desperately tried to carve their way into the crowd. Cym couldn’t see him, but he knew Fourteen was with them. He could feel his presence—a velvety wall of protection pressing against his mind. Warmth rippled through Cym’s stillness.

Fourteen would never leave him behind.

Front and center of the entire clusterfuck was Sekt, his eyes glowing with the zeal of his self-assured victory.

:Fuck that guy.: Cym sent to Marshall.

:No. Fucking is too good for him.:

:You’re right. Let’s find something else to do with him.: Like shove a shitload of magic up his ass.

Cym had meant to keep that last part to himself, but Marshall chuckled and said, :I vote for this idea.:

Cym relaxed his will and allowed Marshall full control over their gestalt. Cym didn’t have a clue what he was doing and had been flying by the seat of his pants the whole evening, so he was more than happy to hand everything over to Marshall.

Cym wanted Sekt to fucking feel it when he went down, and he just knew Marshall had an amazing banana kablam-style finishing move. Maybe he’d even give a rousing speech…

Marshall flexed his will and sent out their shield as far as it would go.

Power ripped through the monsters like tissue paper in a tsunami. It happened so fast that it was over almost as soon as it had begun. What had been an army of horrors one minute was now a field of glittering smoke, mixed with snow.

:You flexed too hard, Marshall! If you weren’t going to give a speech, you should have at least let me give one.:

There was a sheepish pause and then Marshall said, :Sorry. You had more magic than I realized.:

:How am I supposed to get closure? All the therapy books say closure is important for trauma survivors. Now I’m going to end up weird!:

:I think the boat already sailed on that one, my friend.:

Cym gave a pfft and shrugged, but it was weird because it was all internal since his consciousness was still mashed together with Marshall’s.

Movement at Cym’s periphery yanked his attention from Marshall. It was their friends clear across the field, stumbling over themselves, still caught up in the momentum of the massive battle that ended too abruptly. Then Fourteen locked eyes with Cym, and as a single unit, Jack, Adelle, and Fourteen began to run across the field toward them.

:We should sort ourselves out now, or this could get confusing,: Marshall said gently.

:How do we do that?: Cym could still feel the power swirling out from him endlessly, but it seemed less a part of him now and more like an entity of its own.

:Just like before. You pull back as much as you can, and I’ll push you out the rest of the way.:

Oh. Right. Cym’s mind was hazy now that the rush of battle was over and his do-or-die mode fucked off. Now all he wanted was sleep, but he figured he could do Marshall the decency of extricating himself from his soul before he dropped off.

:That would be nice, yes.: Marshall sounded amused.

Cym summoned just enough energy to pull his magic back from Marshall and was glad when he managed to send Cym back to his own body. Blinking up at Marshall, Cym smiled drowsily.

Marshall returned his smile with an equally exhausted one, squeezed Cym tightly against his chest for a moment, and then sighed heavily into his hair.

“Gods, Marshall, what the hell happened?” Adelle demanded as she, Jack, and Fourteen pounded to a stop a few feet away.

Fourteen took in Cym’s position in Marshall’s lap with narrowed eyes.

“Cym happened,” Marshall said, laughing shakily.

Dropping to his knees, Fourteen raked his eyes over Cym’s form, looking for injuries. When that wasn’t enough, he growled, “Give him to me,” and pushed Marshall’s arm firmly away with a shiny weapon.

“You got a new murder toy!” Cym said happily and jump-started his relocation by trying to throw himself into Fourteen’s arms. His mind and body were still wonky, so he failed spectacularly and flopped face-first into Fourteen’s chest. It was covered in glitter and Cym realized he was rubbing his face all over dead demon remains.

Well, at least it wasn’t blood.