The transition happens with the particular violence of forces released after unnatural containment—reality snapping back into motion with energy that creates shockwaves I can feel in my chest. The volcanic landscape resumes its chaos, lava flowing, heat radiating, the environment remembering what it was doing before Koishii's intervention.
Everyone seems to lock in with reality.
I can sense them behind me—Cassius on his shadow platform, the others on Mortimer's back, Koishii floating somewhere in my peripheral vision, Zeke maintaining his transformed state with golden scythe gleaming. All of them watching. All of them waiting to see what happens next.
Damien does a final sound of screeching rage.
All three heads release their fury simultaneously—a chorus of hellish sound that carries physical force, that makes the ice beneath my feet crack with sympathetic vibration, that speaks to the particular anger of a creature that has been contained against its will.
I know all eyes are on me.
Can feel the weight of their attention—concern, fear, hope, all the emotions that people experience when watching someone they care about face danger alone. The questions I'm sure they're asking echo in my awareness even though I can't hear the actual words.
What is she doing?
Why isn't she moving?
Why is she just standing there?
I smirk.
The expression carries confidence that I hope they can see from their various positions—defiance in the face of destruction, certainty that contradicts everything rational analysis might suggest about my current situation.
And I do something none of them are expecting.
I stand completely still.
No defensive posture. No preparation for evasion. No gathering of power for counter-attack. Juststillness—absolute, deliberate, carrying the particular weight of someone who has made a decision and refuses to second-guess it.
I can hear the guys questioning what I'm doing.
Their voices reach me through the chaos—fragments of concern, demands for explanation, the particular panic of people watching someone they love apparently surrender to destruction. Cassius's voice carries command that I ignore. Nikolai's carries desperation that I acknowledge but don't obey. The others add their own contributions to the chorus of objection.
But I don't move.
The clock has struck.
Midnight hour approaches—or whatever metaphorical equivalent applies to this moment, this instant where everything balances on the edge of outcomes that will determine whether we survive or perish.
Damien is ready.
All three heads orient toward me—the chains preventing full mobility but not eliminating his ability to direct the attack he's been building. The fireball that has been growing throughout this entire confrontation reaches its peak, flames condensing into something that transcends simple fire, hellfire achieving its final form.
He's going to shoot it straight at me.
At me.
Because the chains connect us now.
Because I'm holding the binding that links his will to something outside himself.
Because I represent the master he apparently needs but has never had.
I close my eyes.
The darkness behind my eyelids feels peaceful compared to the chaos that surrounds me—a moment of stillness within mayhem, a breath taken before the plunge. I can still feel the heat building, still sense the power that's about to be released, still know with absolute certainty that what happens next will determine everything.
But with my eyes closed, I can focus on something else.
