Trigger warnings *end of the world, battle, violence, major character death, cliff hanger.*
The Battlefield is lost.
The world is burning. The sky is fractured, bleeding light through jagged, unnatural tears in reality itself. The ground shudders beneath the weight of collapsing buildings, shockwaves rippling outward as the Underground's forces close in, overwhelming what remains of the resistance.
Miras is down, blood dripping into his eye as he drags himself to his knees. My father is barely standing, his breath ragged, his stance faltering. Imani grips a shattered device, frantically trying to reboot it, his hands shaking. Dewey—Dewey is laughing through clenched teeth, his back to them all, empty gun raised like it might do something.
As if it couldn't get any worse—
The sky splits open.
Not again.
A thunderclap shakes the battlefield, raw energy detonating in the heavens like a dying star. A shockwave rips through the air, sending debris and enemies alike sprawling. My fingers close around the searing light like it's nothing. The sheer force of it should've incinerated my arm. Instead, it bends, twists—until I crush it in my grip, snuffing it out completely.
Silence crashes over the battlefield.
Four sets of eyes whip toward me, wide with shock.
"Miss me?" I ask, then slam my energy outward, sending a shockwave through the enemy lines.
Aunt Nayley catches up, panting as she levels her gun at the retreating figures. "Goddamn it, Cherish."
I barely hear her. Miras is already on his feet, striding toward me, his expression unreadable.
Then he's grabbing me, his hands running over my arms, my face, like he's checking that I'm real. That I'm whole. That I'm alive.
"Tell me you didn't," he breathes.
I can't.
His fingers tighten. "Cherish—"
"Later," I say, pulling back. "We have to move before they regroup."
I glance at my father. His face is pale. His eyes flicker to the glowing lines in my skin, the energy crackling around my fingers, the undeniable proof of what I've done. His throat bobs.
Imani lets out a slow breath, shaking his head. "This is a terrible idea."
Dewey, still half in shock, blurts, "Okay, but can we talk about how she just caught a goddamn lightning blast with her bare hands?"
"LATER!" Miras, Imani, and Aunt Nayley snap in unison.
Dewey huffs. "Jeez, no one appreciates the moment anymore."
I let out a breath, grounding myself. "We're not dead. That's what matters."
Miras' jaw clenches, his eyes dark and stormy. "You should be." His voice is thick with something raw, something painful. "You have no idea what you've done to yourself."
He's right.
But I don't regret it.
I look at him—at all of them. "We still have a world to save."
No one argues.
But as we turn toward the battlefield, I can feel the weight of their eyes on me. The unspoken fear. The barely contained anger.
I saved them.
But no one is happy about how.
Cracks split through the sky, jagged wounds bleeding raw light. The ground trembles beneath my feet, groaning like something alive, something dying. Buildings hover between existence and collapse, their forms flickering, twisting, warping.
"I guess now is a better time than ever."
I don't know how I'm supposed to force the sky back together, it was never brought up in AP physics. All I'm going off of his pain. This is supposed to kill me, so if it hurts—I'm probably doing it right. I take a deep breath, drawing in the energy that is now a part of me. The force that burns inside me, that fills my veins and makes my heart race, thrumming in time with the fractured world around me. The moment I attempt to focus that power—to move it, control it, to push against the tearing rift—I feel the weight of it, and I nearly falter.
It's too much.
The energy inside me fights back. It pulls against me like a wave crashing into a cliff, unwilling to be controlled, unwilling to be used. I struggle to push it down, to mold it, to direct it where I need it to go, but it's like trying to tame a wild storm with nothing but my bare hands.
I stumble, my knees buckling beneath me as the pressure builds, the power spiraling out of control. My head spins, my vision blurs as the energy within me overflows, surging through my limbs like a tidal wave. The very air around me crackles with the force, sending static through the broken city, shattering windows and making the ground tremble underfoot.
"Cherish!"
I hear Miras' voice, distant, filled with fear, but I can't focus on him. Not now. Not when everything is breaking.
I clench my fists, gritting my teeth as I try again. This time, I push harder. I pull the energy tighter to myself, focusing it with every ounce of willpower I have left.
Control it.
It's not enough.
The rift is still there, tearing the world apart, and no matter how hard I push, it's like the fabric of reality itself is too far gone. It won't bend.
Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes as I strain, my chest tightening with the effort, the pressure of the energy pushing against me threatening to break me.
The world is still, for the briefest of moments. The chaos that once consumed the sky, the earth, and everything in between, is now slowly healing. The rift in the fabric of reality that I had fought so hard to mend is finally closing. I feel it in my chest, a slow exhale that echoes through the air like the world itself is breathing again. The sky, once shattered and torn, begins to solidify, the jagged cracks healing, shimmering with light as though the universe itself is repairing the damage. The world is mending, piece by piece, and for a brief moment, I dare to believe it might be over. The cracks in the sky are healing, the ground is stabilizing, and I can feel it—the pulse—the energy flowing back into its natural rhythm.
But I hear it.
A distant hum, followed by the unmistakable hiss of an energy blast.
, something sharp rips through my side, and I feel the heat of the attack sear through my ribs. The pain is instant, overwhelming, and I scream, the sound coming out ragged and hoarse as the world around me warps. The force of the hit sends me sprawling, my body slamming into the ground with a sickening thud. My breath catches in my throat as I try to push myself up, but the pain in my side is too much.
I look down, and the sight makes my stomach turn—blood is pouring from the wound, staining my shirt, mixing with the dirt beneath me.
No.
This can't be happening now. Not when I've finally pushed everything to the edge of healing.
I try to pull myself up, but my body refuses to listen. Every muscle aches, every movement sends waves of agony through me.
My breath comes in shallow gasps as the pain intensifies, spreading through my chest like fire. My hands press against the wound, but it doesn't help. The blood keeps flowing, my vision starts to flicker at the edges, the world spinning in and out of focus.
"Cherish!"
Miras' voice. It's a lifeline, cutting through the haze of pain and fear. I want to reach for him, to tell him I'm okay, but I can't. Another shot rings out, and I feel it—the impact. This time, it's a searing heat in my leg, making me cry out again as I drop back to the ground, my body convulsing in pain. The sky above me twists into a blur of darkness and light as my consciousness slips further away.
No.
I'm so close. I can feel the energy inside me, still there, still thrumming, but I can't reach it. I can't hold it together.
The blood seeping from my wounds is warm, sticky, and the world around me is dimming, pulling me deeper into the void. My breaths come in shallow gasps, each one a struggle.
But then, through the haze, I hear them. The enemy. I can feel their presence before I see them.
Shadows move around me, swift and silent.
"Finish her off," one of them says, the voice cold, like a knife against the back of my neck. It's a command, and the certainty in it makes something cold settle deep in my chest.
They know. They know I'm weak. They know I can't fight back.
The click of a weapon charging fills the air. The sound is so familiar. Too familiar. They're preparing to kill me. To finish what they started, before the world is even fully healed.
I can't even lift my head to see them, but I don't need to. I feel the weapon pointed at me, the heat of it buzzing, and the cold of their hands drawing closer.
he blood continues to pour from the gaping hole in my side, the pain blurring my vision, and the world tilts in an agonizing spiral.
And then—
The shot.
It comes so fast.
The sound of the blast fills my ears, and my heart lurches. But it's not aimed at me. Not directly. It misses. Just barely. But the explosion from the impact sends shockwaves through my body, and I hear a high-pitched screech, the roar of energy flaring as the blast ricochets off the ground, throwing dirt and debris into the air.
I see him.
Miras.
He's there, moving faster than I can follow, launching himself between me and the oncoming fire. He's faster than anything I've ever seen, his body a blur as he intercepts the blast, taking the hit square in his chest.
"NO!" I manage to choke out, my voice a hoarse scream of panic.
Miras is thrown back by the blast, his body crumpling to the ground with an almost sickening thud. The world goes silent for a split second, and in that moment, I feel like I've been ripped in half.
The air is thick with the smell of burning energy, and I feel the sting of fresh tears in my eyes as I watch him fall.
"Miras!"
I can barely push myself to my feet, the pain too intense, but I can't breathe. I can't think. I can only reach for him.
He's not moving.
He's not breathing.
I can't lose him. Not like this.
My fingers press into his skin, desperate. I shake him, calling his name again.
"Miras! Miras!"
But he doesn't respond. His eyes are shut, his face pale, and it's almost like I can see the faint shadow of death hanging over him. I can feel it—a cold, creeping sensation deep in my chest. My breath hitches.
He can't die. He can't.
He fought for me. He protected me. He risked everything for me. And now I can't let it be in vain.
I scream for someone, I don't know who, but aunt Nayley, Dewey and my father are gathered around us. My father pushes me away with a firm "step back!" He pulls something out of his suit, something that he will probably try to bring Miras back.
But none of us know what he was just shot with.
A switch flips in my brain. It's subtle at first—just a faint shift, a momentary pulse of clarity, like I've snapped into focus after being lost in the fog. But then, like a floodgate opening, everything inside me sharpens. The energy that's been humming under the surface, faint and scattered, suddenly surges back to life—wild, furious, and raw. It's like I've been holding my breath for too long, and now I can finally breathe.
The pain in my side, the exhaustion that's been clawing at me, it all fades. It's still there, a lingering echo, but it's distant, something I can control.
I look at Miras—his chest stays unnatural still, his body not even twitching—and a fire builds in my chest.
I can feel everything. The energy surges through my limbs, through my veins, burning hot and bright. It doesn't belong to me, it is me. I am it. I can shape it, twist it, turn it into whatever I want.
The enemies closing in on us don't matter. Their weapons, their plans, they mean nothing. Nothing but me. Nothing but him.
"Stay with me," I whisper to him, my voice steady, but beneath it, the energy is unstoppable. It's like a storm brewing inside of me.
I turn my focus to the enemy. They're closing in, their weapons raised, but they don't understand. They don't know what they've awakened.
With a glare of my eyes, the air shifts. The ground trembles, like the world itself is bending to my will. I reach out, pulling the energy I need from the very air around me. It crackles, it thunders through me, and the earth beneath my feet quakes in response.
I raise my hands.
It's like I'm controlling the fabric of reality itself, stitching the world together with my will. The energy bursts from me, not like a wave, but a fury, a storm of light and power. The world around me feels like it's crackling with static, the air thick with energy. Every nerve in my body is alive, sparking with a power I can barely contain, but I won't try to. I can feel the enemy forces moving closer, their weapons ready, their faces masked in grim determination. They don't know what's coming. They think they can overpower me.
They have no idea who I've become.
I draw a slow, deliberate breath, steadying myself, feeling the power roll through me, building, coiling like a snake inside my chest. It's time.
With a single motion, my hand shoots forward. The air snaps with electricity as a wave of energy rips from my fingertips. It slams into the first line of soldiers, knocking them off their feet like ragdolls, their armor crumpling under the sheer force. They don't even have time to react.
I don't stop.
The ground beneath me shifts, cracking and buckling as I force the earth to rise beneath my feet, propelling me forward with an explosive burst of speed. My body moves faster than I've ever known it to, every muscle working in perfect sync, the energy pushing me beyond the limits of human capability.
I slam into the next group, my fist connecting with the first soldier's chest with such force that he crumples instantly, his body thrown back like a doll. Another comes at me from the left, but I don't even flinch. I raise my hand, and the air bends to my will. It's like the very molecules move for me, parting in a rush of power that sends the soldier flying backward, his weapon clattering to the ground.
They can't touch me.
I push forward, my feet barely touching the ground as I move in and out of the enemy lines with ease, each motion controlled, precise, my hands leaving trails of crackling energy in their wake. They're shooting at me now, bullets flying toward me, but I don't even need to dodge. The air around me bends, the bullets stopping mid-flight before they can even touch me. I flick my wrist, and the bullets disintegrate into nothing, the energy around me too strong, too wild for them to get close.
I can feel the fear in their movements now. I can see the hesitation in their eyes as they realize they're not fighting a person anymore. They're fighting something else.
They fire again, but this time, I don't wait. I pull all the energy inside me, holding it in my chest until it feels like I'm about to explode. And then I let it out.
A wave of force erupts from me, a burst of power so violent, it's like the earth itself is being torn apart. The soldiers are knocked backward, their bodies flung into the air like leaves in a storm. The ground quakes beneath me, and I can hear the sound of buildings collapsing in the distance as the shockwave tears through everything.
I stand in the center of the chaos, my body pulsing with power, my chest rising and falling with the effort of it all.
But it's not enough yet.
I step forward, moving toward the remaining enemy forces, my every step sending ripples through the air. I feel the weight of every heartbeat, the weight of every choice I've made to get to this point.
I don't feel my body the way I used to. It's like a strange numbness has taken over, a coldness that chills the edges of my awareness. My limbs move without me thinking, without the usual weight of decision and consequence. It's as though I've become the power—nothing but the power.
The world around me is distorted. The battlefield blurs. The shapes of the enemies become less and less distinct, the air around me shimmering with energy. I don't hear the shouts of soldiers anymore, or the sounds of weapons firing. The only sound is the hum of energy in my veins, thrumming louder, faster. It's deafening, overwhelming, like I'm being swallowed whole by it.
Something inside me screams—my human side, the part of me that's still Cherish—but it's a faint, distant voice, drowning in the roar of the energy. I try to focus, to pull myself back, but it's hard. So hard.
I can feel the pull of it now, the hunger of the power, pulling me further away from the person I was. My mind is racing, and the more I try to hold on, the more it slips from my grasp. I feel my heart beating, but it's not my heartbeat anymore. It's the pulse of the energy, the thrum of the chaos I've created, and I can't tell where I end and the power begins.
The world around me is collapsing, and as much as I want to fight, to hold onto who I am, the truth keeps creeping up on me. There's no turning back. No simple solution to undo what I've done. The power inside me isn't something I can just push away anymore. It's not a part of me—it is me.
I feel the last remnants of my human self trying to scream, trying to pull me back, but I'm losing that grip. The fear that I won't come back from this, that I'll disappear into the energy, that I'll leave them all behind... it's there, but it's fading. Drowning in the roar of the power, swallowed by the storm I've become.
It's for the world. I keep telling myself that.
I don't even know if the words make sense anymore. But I do know that if I don't do this—if I don't give in to the power, let it take over fully—there will be nothing left to save.
The pain of holding back, of resisting it, is worse than anything I've ever felt. It's like trying to hold back an avalanche with bare hands. The energy pulls at my very core, digging into me, trying to tear me apart, and I know if I keep fighting, I'll lose. I'll break.
I take a deep breath, letting the last vestiges of my resistance slip away.
And then, I let go.
The moment I do, the world shifts around me. The air hums with electricity, vibrating with raw, uncontrollable power. I feel it as it floods every cell of my body, coursing through me like fire, like a storm unleashed. There's no hesitation. No second-guessing. It's like a dam has broken inside me, and the energy floods out, pouring from my hands, my chest, my very soul.
It's overwhelming. My thoughts blur, my emotions scatter, but I don't need them. Not anymore. All I need is this power, this force, and the will to put the world back together.
I close my eyes for just a second, not because I need to rest, but because I need to focus. I need to feel the world as it breaks around me—hear it, understand it, and fix it. I can't just use brute force; it's not enough.
I reach out with my mind, reaching for the cracks, the ruptures in reality that I've caused. There's no map, no guide, just a web of broken threads scattered across the universe. I feel them all—the pain, the rips, the chaos. It's too much, too vast, and I know I can't do this alone.
But I can do it with them.
Miras, my dad, Aunt Nayley, Imani, Dewey—they're all here with me. Their voices are still in my mind, still a part of my heart. And as I draw on the power, I pull them in too. The love, the hope, the reason I'm doing this in the first place.
The air trembles again, the ground beneath me shaking as the energy twists and ripples. I channel it, guide it, shaping it like clay in my hands.
I see the world as it cracks, and I see the path to fixing it.
I push.
With a force I've never known, I direct the energy outward, into the very fabric of the world. The light bursts from me in a single, blinding pulse, and as it spreads, I feel the world shudder. The cracks start to stitch themselves, slowly at first, like a wound healing from the inside out. The sky that had been torn apart begins to mend, the earth's fractures starting to close. The ground beneath me stops shaking, and the world feels... more solid. More stable.
But I'm losing myself.
The power is all I am now. There's no room for the Cherish I used to be—there's only this energy. It's too much. I feel like I'm going to disappear, like I'm going to burn out from the inside. But I don't stop. I can't.
I can hear them now—Miras's voice calling to me, distant but full of concern. My father, yelling my name. I feel the pull of them, the weight of their love, and for a moment, it brings me back.
But just for a moment.
The world continues to heal, to mend. I can feel it as the cracks seal, as the very fabric of reality starts to take shape again. But my body is fading. The power is everything.
And I'm nothing without it.
I have to finish this. There's no other choice.
Imani's voice cracks through the haze of power, sharp and urgent, pulling at me like a rope tossed into a storm. "Cherish! Cherish, stop!"
I can hear the panic in his voice, the desperation, but it's so far away, buried beneath the roaring tide of energy coursing through me. I feel his presence, feel his hands reaching for me through the storm, but he's too far. Too small.
I want to scream, but the words get lost, swallowed by the power inside me. I feel myself slipping further, becoming less of who I was and more of this force, this unstoppable current of energy. But his voice—his frantic calls—they fight their way to me. They tug at the last threads of who I am, like a distant memory, a final tether to the life I used to have.
I can't do this. I can't hold on much longer.
"Cherish!" Imani yells again, this time his hands gripping my shoulders, trying to shake me, to snap me back to reality. His hands feel so small on me. His touch feels like nothing in comparison to the force I've become.
I can feel him, feel the warmth of his hands, but it doesn't stop the overwhelming weight of the power inside me, pressing down, suffocating everything else. He's trying—he's really trying—but it's like he's trying to stop a tidal wave with his bare hands.
"Cherish, please!" he shouts, his voice strained, panicked. "You're going too far. You're slipping away—don't you dare do this!"
His words—my name—slice through the storm in my mind, but they're faint, weak. I can't bring myself to focus. I'm too far gone.
The pull of the energy is so strong now, so overwhelming, that I can barely breathe. I can't feel my body. All I feel is the pulsing, the need to complete it, to finish this... to fix the world... but I'm losing myself in the process.
Every part of me that's human slips away, leaving nothing but this raw force.
Imani's grip tightens. "Cherish!"
His voice doesn't falter this time. It's more determined, but it's laced with fear, and I hear him, deep inside me, a reminder of everything I've been fighting for. The thought of him, of all of them... it's enough to pull at the last threads of my fading self. But it's not enough to stop the power. It's not enough to stop me from slipping further.
I try to focus, try to feel my own heartbeat, the beat of myself, but it's like trying to find something in a void. I can't find my way back.
Imani is shouting again, his words coming faster, urgent. "If you don't stop, you won't come back, Cherish. You'll be gone... forever."
That—those words—hit me harder than anything else could. I will be gone. The realization cuts through the fog, sharp and cold. And for a split second, just a fleeting moment, I can feel the me I'm about to lose.
But it's slipping too, vanishing before I can grasp it.
I open my eyes, really open them, and I see Imani's face—torn, desperate, trying to reach me. His hands are still gripping my shoulders, but now they feel like lifelines. He's still here. He's still fighting for me.
But the power, the energy, it's too much. The flood of it inside me... it's like drowning, and I can't get a breath of air.
I try to tell him I'm sorry, that I want to come back, but my body doesn't respond. My mind is already too far gone.
It's gone.