Blinding white light filled the world.
Captain Cold squinted against the glare, forcing his voice through the heat.
"So—what's the good news?"
"The good news," Gideon replied evenly, "is that the light is so intense that Vandal Savage's troops can't lock on to our position. We've escaped their encirclement—for now. But if we don't locate the source of the light soon, they'll catch up."
Even though the AI tried to sound calm, its words still dropped like weights into everyone's chest.
Thea Queen, the undisputed culprit, had just stumbled out of her bloodline space when she heard their exchange.
She'd been about to play dumb and pretend it had nothing to do with her—but apparently things had gotten a bit… out of hand.
She wasn't the type to dodge responsibility. Even if she hadn't known this would happen, she still admitted it.
"Sorry, everyone… looks like this one's on me. I'll fix it right away."
"Thea Queen?" Several voices answered at once—some confused, some alarmed, some just plain stunned.
"Thea Queen, how did you even do that? Your current energy output is far beyond a five-ton uranium chain reactor! It's completely outside the laws of physics!"
Professor Stein, eyes shut against the light, was still muttering formulas about nuclear-to-thermal conversion.
"Professor, maybe focus on stopping her glowing before our ship burns up?" Rip Hunter snapped, exasperated.
He respected Stein's pursuit of truth—but not when the Waverider was seconds from turning into ash.
Thea ignored their arguing. She'd already summoned Arthas. The two of them were synchronizing their minds, preparing for their first fusion.
This wasn't like Professor Stein and Jax merging into Firestorm—two separate beings trying to sync.
For Thea, both Arthas and the shadow inside her were parts of herself.
Light didn't mean justice; darkness wasn't evil. They were just two manifestations of her existence.
Fusion, for her, wasn't combination—it was amplification. Taking one aspect of herself and pushing it to infinity.
Arcane syllables began to spill from her lips.
Even on the edge of death, she still recited them clearly, her voice weaving through the air like mist.
The others found themselves listening, hypnotized. The language was unintelligible—half whisper, half echo—but each word rang distinctly in their ears, as if someone were murmuring right beside them.
"Captain," Gideon reported, "Miss Queen appears to be emitting a unique frequency of sound waves. They're generating an inert resonance—"
"Save the science talk," Rip cut it off. He didn't care what it was—he just wanted it to stop before the whole world saw them glowing like a celestial lantern.
Thea heard that, even mid-incantation, and nearly laughed out loud.
If Gideon had a worldview, it would have shattered right then and there. Trying to explain magic with science—she almost pitied it.
Magic—the language of demons.
For centuries, humans had risked their lives to bring it into the material world. Countless mages had died communicating with the infernal realm. Some were madmen courting death; others had truly sacrificed themselves for humanity's strength.
Through their efforts, the demonic tongue was finally brought to Earth, giving rise to wizards, mystics, and sorcerers.
Merlin himself hadn't created the art, but his contributions were monumental—records of his early trials still lay buried in the secret archives.
The spell Thea chanted now was a refined version of those ancient rites.
Unlike the old magic, its enchantment was muted; otherwise, anyone listening this close would've already gone insane.
"Come, my friend."
Thea extended her right hand toward Arthas. Their eyes met.
Arthas took two steps back and revealed her true form—a majestic unicorn nearly three meters tall, shoulder width two full meters.
Silver mane rippled down her neck, a thirty-centimeter horn blazing with ethereal light, wings unfolding from her sides in radiant arcs. Every movement of that powerful body carried a divine grace.
Thea opened her arms wide. The unicorn didn't hesitate. She galloped forward—time and space dissolving into brilliance.
Courage. Hope. Faith.
They all flashed through Arthas's eyes as she charged. Thea nodded, steady and calm, embracing those noble traits head-on.
A thunderous cry split the air. The unicorn's horn pierced straight into Thea's chest, merging them as one.
The impact sent her stumbling back two steps—but what followed was beyond comprehension.
Magic. Endless, boundless magic.
It surged from her soul, her mind, her flesh. Her blood turned golden, every vessel pulsing with power.
She felt unstoppable—no, invincible.
If the old measure of strength had been ten, now it was a thousand.
She thought of Superman—wondering if he'd ever gone all out.
At this moment, she was certain she could surpass even him. Maybe not crush him outright—but she'd win the fight.
Confidence flooded her chest. She wanted to punch Superman, kick Cyborg, elbow Martian Manhunter into orbit.
Unfortunately, that triumphant mood lasted all of ten seconds.
"Beautiful, isn't it? Feels good, right? Go ahead—use it while you can."
Arthas's voice echoed inside her consciousness, now back in human form, lazy and teasing.
"What do you mean?" Thea frowned. We're practically unstoppable now—why kill the vibe?
"The mysteries of time go far beyond your imagination," Arthas said slowly, her tone turning serious. "No one cheats time for free.
You gained this power early—an accident of this timeline. But if you return to your original time, it'll all revert. Of course… you could always choose not to go back."
She said it carefully, each word deliberate.
Go back and lose it all, or stay here and rule the world.
Thea hesitated for only a second before deciding.
She had to go back.
Her family, her friends—they were there. Everyone from this era was already dust. What was the point of being invincible with no one left to share it?
She sighed. "Fine. At least I got a taste."
Maybe she'd reach this level again someday.
"Don't worry," Arthas said with a smirk. "You and I share the same life now. We'll live at least four thousand years."
Thea blinked, then laughed. "Four thousand, huh? By then, even the tree on Superman's grave will have died of old age. Perfect."