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25. Cym

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.

"Easy, soldier, easy. I'm not getting in your way. He's just tired, that's all." Marshall relinquished his hold and allowed Fourteen to take Cym from him.

Jack kneeled and took Marshall's hand in his. He cocked his head and narrowed his gaze at Cym before turning back to Marshall and asking, "Cym did all of that?"

"He could have done twice that much and been fine. And don't worry," Marshall said as Adelle crouched to touch his other hand. "I'm not going to fade. Cym tapped into his stillbringer power before I had a chance to do something stupid."

"Stupid, huh? Sounds like you." Jack punched Marshall's arm none-too-gently then turned to Cym, who was busy getting manhandled by Fourteen who seemed convinced Cym was sporting numerous secret injuries. "Good for you, I had a feeling you were special."

"I knew he was," Adelle said. Even after being in the middle of a warzone, she was the epitome of calm and far better groomed than she had any right to be. "Thank you for rescuing my brother from himself."

Cym pressed his face against the now-familiar buzz of Fourteen's jacket and said, "He wouldn't have had to be here if it wasn't for me."

The stillness had receded from him entirely now. With its departure, all of Cym's old insecurities had returned. Only a small, quiet part of him could remember now that they were merely illusions. It seemed like something he should explore further at some point, but for right now, he had a hard-earned snuggle he'd been promising himself.

"It's our job to be here, and from where I'm sitting, you're worth it," Adelle said just a touch too forcefully. "Your family has a lot to answer for. Where is Elanor? Did she survive?"

Did Cym want her to have survived? He didn't have the first clue. Before he could get too emotionally involved in the issue, he heard Jack say, "Over here."

Cym stayed put and watched as Jack and Adelle went over to inspect a shivering mess of a human.

Jack poked her with a toe. "She's alive," Jack smirked and poked her again. "Look at you, you great big lump. You got away with being a sack of garbage for a long time, didn't you?"

Hester didn't move, or answer, but from where Cym stood, he could see her staring up at Jack and Adelle in terror.

Adelle pulled Jack away when it looked like he was going to continue poking Hester. "Stop it, dork, or the new Blaike patriarch is going to think you're unprofessional."

"The new what now?" Cym blurted. They weren't talking about him, were they? No fucking way. Cym was a walking disaster disguised as a human being and should never be put in charge of anything larger than a decision involving dinner options.

He threw a panicked look at Fourteen and realized that Fourteen wasn't following the conversation at all. Instead, he was looking at Cym like he was the only person there.

All of the exhaustion and stress slammed down on Cym at once. Fuck closure; Cym just wanted to leave. "Can you get me out of here?" he whispered to Fourteen.

Instead of answering, Fourteen simply turned and walked away with Cym in his arms.

"Hold up, Stillbringer," Marshall called out in a tired voice.

Fourteen didn't pause, but Cym tapped his chest and said, "Can you hang on a second and turn us around, please?"

Cym made sure to not make any statement to Fourteen that could be interpreted as a command. He'd already fucked up big time when he'd ordered Fourteen to retreat, and he didn't want to make it worse. From now on, he was only asking Fourteen to do things until the man had his own autonomy back.

Fourteen complied wordlessly, but there was a glint of irritation in his eyes that told Cym he wasn't being rolled by Cym's handler status over him. He was complying reluctantly because he chose to.

Once they reached Marshall, Cym announced, "Marshall, if you call me Stillbringer one more time without explaining what it means, I am going to go fucking feral on you."

"Later, short stack. Let's deal with this crap bag first," Jack called, giving Hester one final poke before allowing Adelle to drag him out of poking range.

"Ugh. Fine." Apparently, Cym was getting closure whether he wanted it or not. "Can you put me down?" Cym whispered. He realized he was petting Fourteen like he was a comfort animal, and he forced himself to stop.

"No."

"I'm not going to run away again."

"Still no."

"No one is going to respect me if I'm getting carried around like a spoiled little prince," Cym hissed. He was trying to keep their little squabble private, but Fourteen wasn't making it easy.

"Suck it up."

Cym huffed and then turned back to the Hester situation and proceeded to act like he was perfectly happy to use Fourteen as a lounge chair and that he'd planned to do so all along. "You can take us over there when ready." He waved toward Hester.

Fourteen gave a soft sound that could have been a laugh to an optimistic observer and carried Cym over to stand with Jack and Adelle. After a moment, they were joined by a weary but satisfied looking Marshall.

"Sure must be nice to have a human chariot. I could go for one of those right about now," Marshall said.

"Don't look at me, asshole," Adelle said in a snotty tone and flicked her hair. "I only carry people who don't try to get themselves killed on a regular basis."

Jack just smiled at him with mischief in his eyes and said, "Any time, pookie," and threw Marshall a wink.

Marshall gave him a helpless little laugh. "You're both useless."

Cym could tell from Marshall's tone that he didn't mean it at all, and that he probably loved both of his teammates more than his own life. Cym's gut twisted in envy before he looked up at Fourteen as covertly as possible. Would it be possible for him to have something like this with Fourteen?

Marshall's fond expression faded, and he pulled on an air of responsibility so abruptly Cym was startled. "All right Hester, enough putting this off. I've got more than enough authority and reason to cut you from the Source right here, but I'll give you your say before I sentence you."

Cym made a little wow shape with his mouth. Where the hell did the gentle, easy-going man Cym had met earlier go? If Marshall was directing that energy at him he'd be attempting to crawl inside Fourteen and never come out again.

Jack stood smirking cockily beside him and Adelle bracketed Marshall on his other side, looking like she was a loyal guard dog poised and ready to eagerly obey the order to kill the moment Marshall gave the command.

What the shit? Guardians didn't fuck around, did they?

Cym's hand began to pet Fourteen again without his permission, and he went to pull his hand away but stopped when Fourteen juggled Cym around enough to free one hand and place Cym's hand back on his chest. Fourteen stayed silent the entire time, but he'd made his feelings loud and clear.

Cym shrugged and whispered, "Fine by me. I'm more than happy to treat you as my personal stress toy." He went back to stroking Fourteen's leather-covered pecs like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Hester was muttering something under her breath that sounded like monster , but Cym didn't catch the rest.

"Excuse me, Hester, can you say that a little louder for the kids in the back of the classroom?" Jack's words were light, but his tone made Cym think she'd said something nasty.

"I said, you've still got one more monster to kill, Guardian. If you're so excited about your self-righteous quest to rid the Real of monsters, don't ignore the one at your back." Hester spat in Cym's direction. "Just because he's small and pretty doesn't mean he's not just as dangerous as Sekt is… was." Her voice wobbled and her vitriolic diatribe trailed away awkwardly.

"Oh yes. He's definitely dead." Marshall walked around Adelle and kneeled down next to another body Cym hadn't noticed. When Marshall turned it over, Cym saw the lifeless eyes of his aunt Stella staring up at the sky. Motes of shimmering glitter drifted up from her body, and it was an oddly beautiful, if gruesome sight as it sparkled in the firelight.

"Then get on with it and kill the other monster before you sentence me. I'm still the Blaike matriarch, and I have the right to request justice for my family before I go."

"Justice? What could a nineteen-year-old kid who's spent most of his life locked away possibly have done to deserve a call for family justice?" Marshall's voice was more amused than anything, and Cym had a feeling he was putting on a show for Cym to make up for killing Sekt before he could get his closure.

Marinating in Marshall's soul for the better part of an hour had apparently given Cym some insight into how the man worked.

"He's not a kid," Fourteen said in a sullen tone.

"No, I'm really not." Traumatized? Very likely, but Cym hadn't been a child for a long time.

Hester sneered. "His magic has been a bane to the Blaike family since he came into it. He corrupts the very nature of people. That's the Guard's main objective, isn't it? To defend and protect the basic nature of sentient creatures? Well, this one is the biggest offender out there. You should see what he's done to my family."

"You've eaten your way through half the Blaike family, Hester. I wouldn't be using this as part of your prosecution strategy." Marshall continued to be large and imposing, and Cym would be halfway to shitting a brick if he hadn't seen what a good man Marshall was on the inside.

He was at least eighty percent certain Marshall wasn't going to kill him based on Hester's hurtful ramblings, so no bricks were currently necessary.

"It doesn't matter what I've done," Hester continued. "I'm still the matriarch until I die, and our laws claim that I have the right to protect my family before I go. I demand immediate sentencing for Cymbeline. After that, you can kill me. I don't care anymore now that Sekt's gone."

Fourteen tightened his grasp on Cym and gave a low growl.

Jack sidled over to them and whispered, "Easy big guy. No one is going to hurt your man."

"Except you're not, are you?" Marshall asked Hester, ignoring the by-play going on behind him.

"Excuse me?" Hester seemed to gain more life and hauled herself off the ground shakily.

"I saw Cym's thoughts when we shared a consciousness earlier. He was chosen by the Source to be the Blaike family patriarch. According to your own laws, that makes Cym in charge of your family. Not you."

"It was a mistake. There's never been a Blaike patriarch before. He's obviously a remnant of twisted magic that never should have been allowed to make it out of childhood." Hester gave Cym a horrible look that spoke volumes about her desire to drag him down with her.

Past Cym might have quivered under her wrath, but he wasn't the scared child he used to be. He'd proven that over and over this evening. If he'd been able to go against her earlier when he'd been alone and locked in a cage, he could certainly do it when surrounded by some of the most powerful members of Other society.

Cym dug his fingers into the leather of Fourteen's jacket. And a terrifying murder human. Cym couldn't forget him.

So instead of standing up to Hester because he was afraid she'd hurt Fourteen, he stood up to her for himself.

"Fuck you, you old bitch. I'm worth a dozen of you." Cym knew he wasn't actually much better than Hester and that he was probably something akin to what she claimed, but the guardians didn't seem to be too alarmed by him, and he was supposed to be getting closure here, so he figured it was a good place to start. "And I plan on selling all of your stupid, ugly sunglasses as soon as you're gone."

There. That was sufficiently nasty, wasn't it?

Cym peeked at Jack to see if he'd gotten it right and saw Jack suppressing a laugh. "Great job, kid."

When Jack went to ruffle Cym's hair, Fourteen sidestepped and dodged his hand and said, "He's not a kid." He sounded just as salty as he had the first time.

"You're both kids to me, sport." Jack waggled his eyebrows.

Fourteen hmphed and went back to watching Hester be a massive bitch.

"They're not ugly. Some of them are worth more than you are, you disgusting little freak."

Cym was halfway to deciding to hop down and engage in a vicious slap battle with a centuries-old woman but was stopped when Marshall said, "Enough."

The authority he held in his voice had everyone but Fourteen freezing in place. Well, Jack hadn't frozen, but he lost a bit of the sparkle in his eyes and he focused his attention on Marshall.

Cym was pretty certain Fourteen was busy calculating every minute motion Hester made by the way he was poised. Likely, he didn't give one single shit about Marshall or his authority. A healthy indifference to authority was the vibe Cym had gotten from him during their short acquaintance.

Marshall stalked toward Hester and looked down at her. "What's disgusting is the way you've treated this…" Marshall's eyes cut to Fourteen for a moment and his mouth twitched in amusement. "This young man. The monster terrorizing your family is a rare, precious treasure you've done everything in your power to destroy. Everyone in the Other is lucky you failed to notice what you had in your grasp."

The intensity of his words increased as Marshall continued, but there was still a strict sense of self-control about him. "Your family had the privilege of hosting the first Stillbringer in generations, and you neglected him, refused to allow him to learn his powers, and then tried to kill him. For that alone, I could destroy you, but you decided to double down by harboring a demon and stealing the lives of countless women."

"You're a pretty shitty bad guy, Hester," Jack said with a laugh. "You and your lover could have fucked off to the demon realm ages ago if you'd spent more time in the library and discovered you had unlimited access to the Source instead of sucking face with yourself. How did that even work between you and Sekt? Like, I'm trying to imagine it, and it's beyond me."

Hester looked away, refusing to acknowledge Jack's existence. Cym didn't. He was a huge fan of Jack's ridiculous commentary. It gave Cym a much-needed buffer from the howling insanity Hester was starting to inspire inside him.

"Shut up, pervert." Adelle rolled her eyes, but her tone held more fondness than censure like it was something she'd had to tell him a thousand times, and it had become a reflex.

Stillbringer… Marshall made it sound like Cym was someone special. As if he was someone worth protecting and cherishing. What a wild idea.

If Cym had been allowed to pick his own family, these were the people he would have chosen. Having Marshall and Jack as big brothers would have assured that Cym had never gone through what he had. Adelle was a glorious force of nature, and if Cym wasn't gay, he'd probably be bowing down before her in supplication in the hopes of capturing her attention. As it was, she'd make a kickass older sister.

And Fourteen?

Cym's face heated. Fourteen was definitely not someone he wanted as a brother. Especially after they rolled around in the grass inside Fourteen's dreamscape together.

"You're an idiot if you think that thing over there is the Stillbringer," Hester scoffed, but the look in her eyes showed uncertainty.

"Do you really think I could have done what I did to your lover and his army if he wasn't?" Marshall asked. "Guardians are impressive, but even we have our limits."

"Speak for yourself, boss. I'm easily that impressive. I just didn't want to embarrass you by outshining your moment." Jack put on a humble air and leaned an arm on Marshall's shoulder. "I'm wonderful like that."

Marshall huffed and gave Jack an indulgent smile. Somehow he managed to continue to come off as a leader rather than the cat-herder Cym was beginning to suspect he was.

"He can't be the Stilbringer," Hester whispered, and she stumbled backward with an expression of dawning horror. "If he was… no… he can't…"

Hester seemed to collapse into herself.

"I can assure you he is. Which means your lover died because you're an idiot. You could have siphoned off enough magic from Cym to fuel your sweetie enough to dethrone the demon king if you'd known what he was." Jack all but crowed with satisfaction. "I love a happy ending. Thanks for existing, Cym. This evening turned out to be fucking amazing."

"I'm sorry Hester, but Cym won't be joining you on your trip back to the Source. I'm sure you can understand," Marshall said, cracking a small triumphant smile. He turned to Cym and asked, "As the patriarch of your family, you have the right to decide her fate. Do you want me to execute her now, or would you like her to face your family first before she goes?"

Adelle came over to Cym and Fourteen and put a gentle hand on his arm, ignoring the warning in Fourteen's eyes. "She's going either way, Cym, so you don't have to worry about having her death on your shoulders. The Guard has a zero-tolerance policy for people who deal with demons. You do have the right to bring her before your family, though."

Cym having the right to ask for anything was blowing his mind, so he couldn't even begin to come up with an answer.

"It's not a bad idea," Marshall said. "It could go a long way toward getting your family to accept you as their patriarch."

"What if I don't want to be the patriarch?"

"Then we'll help you discover what you do want to be, but don't dismiss the idea right away. You've had a lot of terrible things to deal with, and you need time to process it all before making any big decisions."

"That's advice, Cym. Not an order," Adelle said, shooting Marshall an irritated look. "He might be our captain, but he's not in charge of you."

"Yet." Jack cut in. "If he becomes your teacher, he'll be in charge of you until you stop being his student. And you should really let him teach you. Unless you enjoy people randomly flipping out around you all the time."

"You want to be my teacher?" Cym blinked up at Marshall, who gave him an encouraging nod. "And you can teach me to control my power?" Cym didn't even know it could be controlled.

"Marshall's the best there is at controlling a shitload of power. No one else can even come close," Jack bragged like he'd created Marshall himself.

Marshall rolled his eyes at Jack and said to Cym, "I'd be happy to have you as a student, Cym, and yes, I can teach you to control your powers. I did a study last century on the previous Stillbringer, so I know how to help you."

Cym's eyes began to tear up. He was getting so many good things all at once. After endless years of nothing, having anything good offered free of charge seemed like a fantasy. At any moment he half expected it to all be torn away when he woke up in his gussied-up prison to discover he'd just fugued out again and dreamed it all.

Cym clutched Fourteen's jacket with both hands and gazed at him anxiously. If he had to, he would give it all up—the new friends, the glorified and mysterious title, and the promise of being able to control his powers. He could accept any of that to be nothing but an illusion, but he couldn't give up Fourteen.

Cym knew he wouldn't survive the loss.

"You better fucking be real," he said, all but begging Fourteen.

"I'm very real. I promise." Fourteen had a soft smile in his eyes, and it was just for Cym. Fourteen was going to forgive him for his idiocy. He wouldn't be acting this way if he wasn't, and Cym vowed then and there to become worthy of it.

"Folks, I hate to break up the joy fest here, but Hester is opting for self-deletion over there," Jack had turned away from them to watch Hester, presumably to give them privacy, but from what Cym had gleaned from their short acquaintance, he had doubts about whether or not Jack cared about petty things like privacy.

Wait. Self-deletion? Oh shit. The red of Hester's magic had begun to build up inside her, but instead of expanding outward like it would if she was casting a spell, it stayed in her chest, increasing in intensity.

"What?! No, I haven't decided yet!" Cym wasn't sure he'd ever be able to decide on something like when a family member should die, but he certainly couldn't do it right now.

Hester was responsible for ending the lives of so many innocent people, though, and his family deserved the right to confront her. But if Cym made the decision, wouldn't that mean he was agreeing to be the head of his family?

"Fuck you, you little shit," Hester rasped. "I'm not staying here a second longer than I have to. If the guardians are too cowardly to do their job. I'll do it myself." Her essence grew brighter, and her core began to swirl.

"I can kill her for you," Fourteen said calmly. He could have been offering to kill a spider so Cym didn't have to.

It was kind of sweet, actually. But…

"It's nice of you to offer, but I'd still have to decide her fate. It's really just a choice between having you do it or Marshall."

"I'm a better choice," Fourteen stated immediately. A tiny line appeared between his eyebrows, and his mouth was turned down just enough for Cym to notice. "That guy can't dodge a bullet for shit. I'll get the job done. He'll probably just die."

"I won't die." Instead of getting upset, Marshall seemed amused.

Fourteen snorted. "Sure you won't, princess."

"I'll just keep Hester alive by myself, I guess. Don't worry about me." Jack gave all three of them the stink-eye and began to do something with his magic that made it ripple and flow around Hester.

Cym was about to get back to freaking out about having the responsibility of being the Blaike family patriarch when Fourteen's words sank in. "Wait. You shot Marshall?"

"Multiple times."

"Why would you do that?" Cym couldn't imagine a scenario where it would be necessary. Marshall was so kind and helpful. A bit arrogant, but basically decent through and through. It had been obvious after spending time inside him.

"He deserved it."

"No, really," Jack said through gritted teeth. "It's no problem at all containing this amount of magic inside a person without blowing them up. Please, take your time." Sweat beaded his forehead as he focused on whatever the hell he was doing to Hester.

Marshall didn't respond to either Fourteen or Jack. Instead, he watched Cym calmly as he waited for him to make a decision.

"I'd be happy to take the burden of this decision off your shoulders, Cym." Jack's rainbow essence had begun to pulse, and his face had turned a pale shade of tan from the strain. "Just say the word." Jack muttered something that sounded a lot like for fuck's sake, and it was just loud enough that Cym was pretty sure he hadn't been trying to keep Cym from hearing it.

Cym needed to stop procrastinating and make a decision before Jack had an aneurysm.

"Fine! Save her. I can't be the only one in the family who needs closure." Cym was painfully aware of the incredulous stares pointed at his head.

Apparently, everyone thought he was fully planning to sentence her to death on the spot and had just been waffling over it for funsies. Everyone except Fourteen. He seemed unsurprised and content to go along with whatever Cym wanted as long as he stayed glued to Fourteen.

"What the fuc-" Hester's enraged protest was cut off by a small pop as Jack made a squishing motion and she condensed down to a small bubble of rainbow light.

Cym could see little ripples of dark red flare up for a moment before they smoothed over and the sphere became a shiny ball of happy rainbow energy. Jack tossed it into the air like a baseball, and when he caught it, it vanished on contact.

"Phew. You didn't make that easy on me did you?" Jack wiped his forehead and heaved a sigh of relief.

"You could have just done that in the first place. You didn't have to be so dramatic about it," Adelle said and then punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow! Whoever said hitting like a girl was a bad thing was clearly immune to pain," Jack grumbled as he rubbed the offended area. "And I wasn't being dramatic. Wasting magic to stuff Hester into stasis would be pointless if Cym decided he wanted me to haul her back out again for Marshall to execute her. I'm not made of magic, you know."

Mischief filled Jack's eyes and he turned the full force of it on Cym. "But you are. I'm pretty low on magic right now, but I'd be happy to pop Hester in and out of there all day if you're willing to top me off." He took a step toward Cym and held out a hand in offering and wiggled his fingers.

"No," said a voice that definitely didn't belong to Fourteen.

Jack looked down at the hand on his wrist in surprise. Marshall also seemed pretty surprised, considering it was his hand doing the restraining.

"Cym is exhausted. He may have an endless connection to the Source, but channeling so much of it for the first time has wiped him out." Marshall was avoiding eye contact as he spoke, and Jack stood docile in his grasp. "If you need magic, I still have plenty from what Cym gave me earlier."

Jack nodded mutely, and Cym gaped at him. Marshall really must be as powerful as he claimed to be able to get such a chatterbox to shut up.

"Adelle, are you good to check on survivors while I top Jack off?"

"Sure thing, boss." Adelle gave her teammates an inscrutable look before tapping her magic and turning her attention inward.

"Good. Cym, you and Fourteen can check each other over for injuries while I take care of Jack."

Instead of making a joke like Cym expected, Jack had all of his attention on Marshall. It was like nothing else existed around him. No half-burned compound, no gusts of smoke mixed with demon remnants swirling around, and no random piles of hopefully only unconscious bodies slowly getting covered with snow.

Jack allowed Marshall to pull him toward the forest without a backward glance. Cym caught a look of calculation on his face before his features were swallowed by darkness.

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