3.2.4

As Ilia sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the wall, she was overcome with the urge to lay back and take a nap. It felt like the sun should be setting by now, given how busy the day had been, but the clock on her nightstand told her that it was still only early afternoon, and Ilia’s mind was racing too much for her to sleep anyway.

The situation with Auster and the walk through Kai’s memories were a lot to process, certainly, but Ilia’s thoughts kept returning to her fight against The Necromancer. Her shields—she hadn’t made them reflective on purpose, and when The Necromancer’s flames had turned white and then turned against him, it was as much a surprise to him as it was to her.

Which was strange, really, because drawing on Yaran’s curse required only two things: energy and intention. If Ilia wanted to summon a weapon, she merely had to think about it. If she wanted to heal someone, her desire was enough to make it happen. Even if she didn’t have the energy to use her powers properly, she could still send herself into energy debt and force her wishes to become reality as long as her intentions were pure and her will was strong.

In other words, her powers shouldn’t be able to do anything by accident.

It left Ilia with a lot of food for thought, and so Ilia had retreated to her bedroom, shrugging off concerned questions from Morgan about whether she was okay—questions that were merited, given the way Ilia had collapsed in the foyer after the fight in India. Though she was definitely tired after using her powers in India and then fighting The Necromancer in Tunisia, that wasn’t the real reason she’d asked Morgan to leave her alone.

There was a knock on the door—so tentative that Ilia almost missed it—and Ilia’s lips twisted into a weary smile.

No, she hadn’t come to her room for rest; she’d come because some conversations were better had in private.

“Come in,” Ilia called.

The door edged open, and Auster slipped through the narrow opening. As soon as he was through, he gently closed the door behind him with his foot—an awkward maneuver, perhaps, but Auster was an awkward person, so it wasn’t all that strange at first glance. Except.

Ilia scrutinized Auster with narrowed eyes, looking closely for injuries. His face was streaked with dirt, his wrists and ankles were bruised, and he was using his hair to conceal a laceration on his left temple, but that wasn’t what drew Ilia’s attention. He was taking extreme care to hide his back from Ilia—just like he had in Kai’s garden.

“You’re hurt,” Ilia said with a frown.

“Oh, um, I’m not—“

“Auster. I have X-ray vision,” Ilia said flatly. “And I’m not afraid to use it.” Auster paled.

“Okay, well, you’re right,” he admitted, eyes downcast, “but it’s not that bad. Really.”

Ilia sighed. It was suddenly very easy to believe that this was the idiot who jumped into hell for Joshua. Time to switch to tactic number two, then.

“Maybe you’re right,” Ilia said slowly. “But it’s bad enough for Joshua to notice when he’s not distracted with other things.”

Auster’s eyes went wide, as if the thought had never occurred to him, and Ilia couldn’t help but sigh again. She hadn’t known Auster or Joshua for that long, but even she could tell that the two were engaged in some horrific cycle of trying not to worry each other.

“Sit,” she said firmly, gesturing to the spot next to her on the bed. “And show me your back. I’ll heal it the best I can.”

Auster silently crossed the room and took a seat on the bed. As he lifted his shirt, exposing his back, Ilia barely suppressed a gasp. Red scar tissue snaked across Auster’s back, branching out so extensively that it almost looked like he had a mini tree branded on his right side—a Lichtenberg figure, created when he was hit with The Necromancer’s lightning. Auster probably couldn’t see the extent of the damage, since it was on his back, but he knew it was there.

Ilia had a feeling Joshua would kill her for this—for hiding what had happened to Auster—but she summoned a royal blue glow to her fingertips regardless. It was better to heal this now in case there were any lingering curse effects from The Necromancer’s attack.

“So,” Ilia said, running her fingers over the scar, “since you didn’t come here to get healed, what did you come for?”

“I—“ Auster bit his lip. “It’s… complicated.”

“So complicated that you needed to find me in private?” Ilia ventured.

“It’s—well—” Auster broke off, shuddering as Ilia brushed against a particularly angry patch of scar tissue.

“Sorry!” Ilia said quickly, pulling her hand back. “Sorry. This is just—I’ve never healed one of these before.”

“It’s okay,” Auster said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t hurt. It just feels kinda strange—it took me off guard. But, um, just do what you have to.”

“All right.” Ilia exhaled slowly and turned her attention back to the injury. Most of the thinner, smaller branches of the Lichtenberg figure had disappeared, but there was still work to be done. As Ilia continued to channel her energy into the scar tissue, willing it to heal, her focus was so intense that she didn’t notice the silence in the room until Auster broke it.

“Is it true that you can give people powers?”

The glow at Ilia’s fingertips flickered out.

Her first instinct was to deny it, to lie and tell Auster that she wasn’t strong enough for that yet—but her hand had been touching Auster’s back when he had asked the question, and the tension that flooded her body in that moment had not been subtle. Even now, her hands were shaking at the thought.

“So you can,” Auster said quietly. “That makes this easier, then.”

“No,” Ilia said firmly. “No. I’m not going to give you powers.”

The Ennead had ruined people’s lives by giving them powers—and in doing so, they had marked themselves as gods, whether intentionally or not. Ilia did not want to align herself with the Ennead like that.

But aren’t you already like them? Ilia’s soul splinter hissed.

No, Ilia said shakily. I’m not a god. I’m not.

“You think giving me powers would put me in danger?” Auster asked.

And here it was, clear as day—Ilia’s other reason to avoid giving Auster powers. A mirthless smile crossed Ilia’s face. She really couldn’t escape, could she?

Nor do you deserve to, Ilia’s soul splinter said smugly. Ilia couldn’t even deny it.

“My best friend—Lyla—said the same thing before I gave her invisibility,” Ilia said stiffly. “She’s dead now—died fifty years ago, and I don’t even know how she was killed. If I hadn’t given her powers, maybe she would have had a chance.”

“I’m… sorry,” Auster said haltingly.

“Don’t be,” Ilia said bitterly. “It was a long time ago.”

“For the world, maybe,” Auster said gently. “But not for you.”

Ilia swallowed. It was something none of them had addressed, and something Ilia hadn’t had time to process—the idea that the world had moved on, and now she no longer had a place in it.

“I-I get why you think it’s a bad idea,” Auster said slowly. “I know it’ll put me in danger, but…” His fingers traced the laceration along his scalp. It was deeper than it had appeared at first glance, and suddenly Auster’s point was crystal clear.

“Giving you powers won’t endanger you any more than you’ve already endangered yourself,” Ilia said quietly.

“Right.” Auster’s gaze turned to his palms. “I’m just a liability like this. I can’t defend myself. But if I’m going to have a target on my back, the least I can do is be useful to the team.”

“Useful, huh?” Ilia murmured.

She closed her eyes. She could still clearly see Felix’s brilliant turquoise as he shattered to pieces right in front of her, fifty years ago, and used that energy to send her to safety. He had been the second to last one to die, and it had been Ilia’s fault, and things had spiraled after that because Ilia hadn’t been strong enough to help.

You were so utterly useless, Ilia’s soul splinter crowed. A liability, just as Auster said.

Ilia’s jaw clenched. She didn’t want anyone to have to feel that way ever again.

Slowly, she withdrew her hand from Auster’s back. She hadn’t finished healing the Lichtenberg figures, but the amount of energy she’d have to send through Auster’s body to imbue his soul with power would probably do the job anyway.

“I can’t control what power you’ll get,” Ilia said carefully. “What you end up with—it’ll be a manifestation of your soul, and the desires you project out into the world. It might not be what you’re hoping for.”

“I—” Auster’s hands clenched into fists. “I don’t care. Something is better than nothing.”

“Okay,” Ilia said evenly. “Lower your shirt, then, and turn to face me.”

Auster exhaled slowly. Ilia could still see tension in every muscle in Auster’s body, but when he turned to face Ilia, his eyes shone with gratitude. Ilia gave him a weak smile in return.

“Joshua’s going to kill me for this,” Ilia said, placing a palm on Auster’s chest. “Immortality aside, I mean.”

“He… probably will,” Auster admitted. “But, um. I’ll try to stop that from happening.”

“Thanks.” Ilia smiled, and it was more genuine this time. “Try to stay still. This might hurt.”

Ilia closed her eyes, and for a second it was Lyla’s heartbeat under her fingertips instead of Auster’s. But Lyla’s soul had been a vibrant plum color, and Auster’s was a much calmer pink, the color of bubblegum and strawberry taffy and pink lemonade on a hot day. The flames of his soul flickered within his chest, and for a second, Ilia hesitated.

She didn’t want to be a god—not a malevolent usurper like The Necromancer, not a reluctant arbiter like the Ennead, not a creator like Karai or a destroyer like Yaran—and only gods had the right to play with souls like this. It felt wrong to do this, just like it felt wrong to read the future and make value judgments and decide who was worth saving. All of that was so far beyond the first-year college student Ilia desperately wanted to be—but The Necromancer had burned that bridge for her long ago.

It is time to accept your place in this world, Ilia’s soul splinter hummed. You are already one of them.

The comment left a bitter taste in Ilia’s mouth. She exhaled slowly as she gazed at Auster’s beautiful pink flame—and then she made her decision.

There clearly weren’t enough benevolent gods around. Maybe she could be one of those.

Thin strands of royal blue light shot out from Ilia’s fingertips, like strings for a marionette, launched straight into the fire at Auster’s core. For a second, nothing happened. Then, slowly, tongues of pink flame began to creep along the strings, winding around the scaffolding with a tentative curiosity that almost made Ilia laugh. Lyla’s soul had been so different—so eager to follow Ilia’s lead—but with Auster, the process was going to be much slower, it seemed.

Carefully, gently, Ilia coaxed Auster’s soul towards her fingertips. Every now and then, she sent pulses of royal blue light down the strings to provoke the flames into traveling faster—but she was selective about it. She rejected Auster’s self doubt, bolstered his sense of self worth, and played into his feelings for Joshua and Lian, and as she filtered through Auster’s soul, she was able to draw out the potential within.

When Ilia was satisfied, she disintegrated the strings connecting her hand to Auster’s soul. The flame at his core was weaker, now, but that was no surprise—after all, the strongest parts of Auster had now crystallized in Ilia’s hand. Ilia turned her attention to Auster’s core, and with a smile, she flicked the crystal back to its source.

“Go,” Ilia whispered. “Be what you were always capable of.”

As soon as the crystal made contact with the weakened flame, Auster’s soul blazed to life. Tongues of fire wrapped around the crystal, cradling it with reinvigorated warmth and brilliance, and Ilia felt something click into place.

Ilia withdrew her hand with a sigh of relief. It felt like the process had taken hours, but a glance at her alarm clock told her it had only been a matter of minutes. As she shook the stiffness out of her hand, she looked at Auster with curiosity. The laceration on his scalp was gone, as were the bruises around his wrists, and he seemed unhurt by the process, but it never hurt to ask.

“How do you feel?” Ilia asked. Apparently Auster had been deep in thought, because that simple question was almost enough to startle him into falling off the bed.

“I’m, um. I feel fine,” Auster said with a frown. “Just… different.”

“That’s normal, from what little experience I have, but hopefully your powers will settle in soon, and everything will feel more natural,” Ilia replied. She directed a faint healing glow to her other hand. “In the meantime, can I see your back again? I’m not sure if—”

“Wait,” Auster interrupted. The light at Ilia’s fingertips faded.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“No,” Auster said with a frown. “No, it’s just—can you do that again?”

“What, this?”

Ilia called forth a glow to her fingertips, exactly as she had before, but this time the light was far more vibrant than she’d intended—bright enough to blind someone, even. Ilia looked to Auster, the question already on her lips—and then she realized that Auster’s hands, too, were enveloped in a faint pink glow. As Ilia dispelled her own power, the glow around Auster’s hands faded away.

“Oh,” Auster said numbly, looking at his hands in awe. “That brightness just now—that was me.”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t me,” Ilia shot back. She crossed her arms. “I guess you can make other people’s powers stronger—or maybe the two of us together are just a highly effective night light. You should ask Karyme to be sure.”

“Right.” Auster suddenly snapped to attention. “Oh, you wanted to see my back.”

He lifted his shirt and twisted so Ilia could see his back again. It was like someone had taken a magic eraser to Auster’s skin—the scars were completely gone. Ilia smiled.

“The marks are gone,” Ilia remarked. “So you’re good on that front. I don’t sense any curses or other nasty stuff from the wound, either, so I think you’re fine. Maybe ask Kai to take a look when he wakes up, just to be safe.”

“Okay,” Auster said with a nod. He lowered his shirt and rose to his feet. “Um, thanks for this, by the way. I won’t waste what you’ve given me—I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ilia said wearily, scrubbing her face with both hands. “Just—maybe don’t tell Joshua right away. He’s had a rough day, and I don’t know how to regenerate yet if he decides to wipe me from the face of the Earth.”

“Um, yeah, you’re probably right.” Auster gave Ilia a lopsided smile. “Should we, um, go to lunch? It might look weird if we’re not there.”

“Yeah,” Ilia sighed. “Yeah, it would.” She hopped off the bed with a grimace. If she had been dizzy before, the problem was easily twice as bad now, and food was definitely not going to help—but Auster was right. If the group was going to make a plan for the afternoon, it was probably going to happen over lunch.

With one last sigh, Ilia followed Auster into the hallway, hoping beyond hope that Joshua wouldn’t notice what she had done.

~.~

There was a lot to be said about someone based on how they used their chopsticks.

It was all stuff that Karyme’s power could tell her if she used it, but it was more interesting to learn from observation. Lian was careful and precise with their movements, whereas Dani was a lot sloppier, focused more on functionality over form. Morgan ate with the practiced speed of someone who lived off of takeout, while Rae’s movements, though correct, were slower, more hesitant. Joshua knew what he was doing, but sometimes he ended up spearing his food out of impatience, and Juli had just given up in favor of a fork. And then there was Peter, who was using his telekinesis to levitate food directly into his mouth.

“Can you please use a dining utensil?” Dani groaned.

“Don’t know how to use chopsticks,” Peter said with a shrug.

Karyme smiled around a bite of kung pao chicken. The lie was clear to her—and it was clear to Dani as well, if his irritated glare was anything to go by.

“You’re lying,” Dani said thinly. She turned to Karyme, eyes narrowed. “He’s lying, isn’t he?”

“Even if he wasn’t lying, there are forks available, which would not excuse him from using a dining utensil,” Karyme replied.

“And even if there weren’t forks around, Peter could summon one,” Lian pointed out. “Which means he’s just doing this to bug you, and it’s clearly working.”

Dani opened his mouth to retort, then realized, with a scowl, that arguing would just prove Lian’s point—and so, with one final glare in Peter’s direction, Dani went back to eating his meal.

“I still can’t believe you brought us Chinese takeout from Detroit,” Rae grumbled, using xyr chopsticks to grasp another piece of broccoli. “Wasn’t that a little rash?”

“Well, once you told us where Hoodie Man was, it seemed kinda stupid to walk into a Maceo Syndicate stronghold,” Juli said with a shrug. “And we were already in Detroit, and lunch is important, and The Necromancer was distracted, so we decided to get food.”

“I wanted pancakes, for what it’s worth,” Peter chimed in. “But I was vetoed.”

“Because pancakes for lunch is stupid,” Dani shot back. “And pancakes are something Lian can easily make with what we have here.”

“Kai can make Chinese food just as easily,” Juli countered, pointing their fork in Dani’s direction. “After he’s awake, I mean.”

“That could take a while,” Joshua said sharply. His grip on his chopsticks was tight enough to snap them. “When he regenerated, he came back with the same injuries he had before he died.”

“Yeah,” Lian said quietly, eyes downcast. “He wasn’t in good shape.”

There was a brief silence, broken only by the clink of utensils against plates and occasional requests to pass food one way or another around the table. The quiet made it easy to hear footsteps approaching the kitchen, and Karyme didn’t even need to turn towards the entrance to know that Ilia and Auster had arrived.

“Hoodie man!” Juli’s eyes lit up. “How’re ya feelin’?”

“Oh, um, fine,” Auster mumbled, squirming under the sudden attention.

“Ilia healed your bruises,” Joshua noted, brow furrowed.

“Yes, I did,” Ilia replied. “That’s what was taking us so long.”

She slipped into the seat next to Morgan—one of only two empty seats at the table—and Auster took his seat between Joshua and Joel. As the two sat down, a pop up box appeared in the corner of Karyme’s vision, centered on Auster, and she frowned. Healing Auster’s bruises was not the only thing Ilia had done, it seemed.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Joel said quietly, nudging Auster’s arm. His eyes shone with clear concern, and there was a slight tremor to his voice. A pained smile flickered across Auster’s face.

“Sorry to worry you,” he mumbled, ducking his head.

“It’s okay!” Joel said with a smile. “Just don’t do it again.”

“R-right.” As Auster stared at his empty plate, a flurry of pop-up boxes appeared around him, signaling emotional distress, and Karyme decided to step in before Auster broke down.

“Who should we go after next?” she asked, looking around the table. “I know Haku has one soul fragment left, but it makes no sense for Lian, Joshua, Morgan, and Ilia to just sit here in the meantime.”

“Joel and I have almost everyone else’s soul fragments mapped out,” Rae added. “So we have options. Given the way teams are set right now, it would make most sense to—”

“I want to go after Minerva.”

Morgan’s voice was firm, her gaze filled with a fierce determination unlike any Karyme had seen in Morgan before. Morgan usually oscillated between stubborn, irritated, and angry, but this was more intense, more concentrated, more real.

It was, unfortunately, also a very inconvenient thing for Morgan to latch onto.

“Dude,” Dani said flatly. “Juli has Minerva’s bracelet. Juli is also on the team going after Haku right now. Do the math.”

“Juli can switch teams,” Morgan said stubbornly. “It’s not like they’ve got a lot left to do anyway.”

“That makes no sense,” Joshua said thinly. “If Haku’s soul shit is anything like Kai’s, the people who saw Haku’s memories are going to have the best shot at putting them back together, and Juli is one of those people.”

“So?” Morgan shot back. “Peter and Dani can—”

“Wait, what?” Dani interrupted. “What did you have to do?”

“We had to walk through Kai’s mind, and then we had to give him therapy,” Joshua said flatly. “It was horrifying, and I’m frankly thrilled that I don’t have to go through the same thing with Haku, because I don’t want to even think about what that bastard’s mind is like.”

“This just gets better and better,” Dani muttered. “I don’t want to know, either.”

“In any case,” Karyme interjected. “It would make more sense to pursue Ven, Jinal, or Mateen, since those are the bracelets available to your team.”

“But I don’t want to go after any of those assholes,” Morgan argued. “Joshua got to choose last time, and it’s my turn to choose, and I want to save Minerva.”

“Ohhhh my god, fine, we can go after Minerva!” Juli let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m too tired to argue over this, and with my luck, Glasses Man’s last memory probably also has to deal with being burned alive, and I don’t wanna see that. Someone’s just gotta take my place on Team Haku.”

“I’ll do it,” Lian said firmly. “Haku made me a promise, and then they broke that promise, so they owe me. And… I was with them in Dimension X, so I have a better shot than most of you.”

“Aight. I’ll fill you in on what we saw before you leave,” Juli said with a nod. “No offense to Dani and Peter, but I think you’ll be doin’ most of the emotional work since I won’t be there.”

“Hey!” Dani said indignantly. “I can understand emotions!”

“But not enough to feel sympathy for Haku,” Peter said with a grin. Dani glowered at Peter, who seemed unbothered as he used his telekinesis to pop another piece of chicken into his mouth.

“If we’ve got that figured out, that brings me to my next point of order,” Karyme remarked. She turned to Ilia. “I think you should go with Team Haku.”

“What?” Ilia frowned. “Why? I’m not exactly a Haku apologist.”

“It has to do with The Necromancer,” Karyme explained. “He could target both teams this afternoon, if he wanted, but that wouldn’t be particularly efficient, especially after what happened this morning. It’s much easier for him to focus his strength in one direction. Now, we have most of Haku’s soul put together, but we’ve got nothing for Minerva, so where do you think he’ll try to strike?”

“Team Haku, I guess,” Ilia replied. “But I don’t get what this has to do with me.”

“This morning—you totally kicked The Necromancer’s ass!” Joel exclaimed, eyes shining. “I dunno about anyone else here and what they can do, but you stood up to him almost completely on your own!”

“I don’t even know how I did that!” Ilia shot back. “And if you asked me to do it again, I wouldn’t know how!”

“About that,” Karyme said slowly. “Do you think it has to do with your tertiary power?”

“Tertiary power?” Juli asked, cocking their head to the side. “What’s that?”

“It’s like.” Ilia’s frown deepened. “Those of us with Yaran’s curse—we’ve mostly got identical powers, right? But we’ve also each got something unique—like how Kai can control wind, and Minerva can control fire, and Haku can make memories real. That’s called a tertiary power.”

“And you don’t know yours,” Karyme pointed out.

“No,” Ilia agreed. “But how is that relevant?”

“Well, my power only tells me what people know, consciously or subconsciously, about themselves,” Karyme explained. “So your tertiary power box was always blank. But it’s not blank anymore.”

“It’s… not?”

“Nope.” Karyme shook her head. “For some reason, there’s something in that box now. It’s just a question mark, which isn’t super helpful, but it’s there all the same.”

“And you have an idea about what it might mean,” Rae guessed.

“It means that something about Ilia’s fight with The Necromancer made her tertiary power more salient in her mind.” Karyme turned to Ilia, her expression serious. “Think back to the fight. There were two main things that happened that you couldn’t explain.”

“Right,” Ilia said slowly. “My shields reflected his attacks, even when I didn’t mean for that to happen, and then when he tried to hit me, his black flames turned white, and then those flames burned him instead.”

“White fire—we’ve never seen that before,” Karyme continued. “We’ve seen two kinds of flames up until now: black and colored. The colored flames are easy to explain; the color matches the soul of the person wielding those flames. Silver for The Necromancer, royal blue for Ilia, green for Kai, and so on.”

“And the black flames come from Yaran,” Ilia added. She examined her hands, brow furrowed in thought. “Our soul fire only turns black when we draw too deeply on the curse.”

“So what does white mean?” Morgan asked, leaning back in her seat.

“There’s only one thing it could mean, really,” Rae answered, setting xyr chopsticks down. “There’s only one other entity in play.”

“Karai,” Ilia said quietly.

“Oooookay, now I’m even more confused,” Juli groaned, covering their face with their hands. “I thought Karai was dead. How is a dead goddess helping Ilia?”

“That’s not quite what I was getting at,” Karyme said lightly. “I think that somehow, Ilia managed to turn Yaran’s flames into Karai’s. Since The Necromancer carries Yaran’s essence within him, it makes sense that energy from Karai would hurt him. But, well, I’m not sure how any of this is possible just yet.”

“I—” Ilia frowned. “I don’t get it, either, but I think you’re right. Now that you’ve said it, it just feels like—like that’s what happened. And knowing that makes it more likely that I’ll be able to do it again. So… I guess I’ll go with Team Haku, just in case.”

“Good to hear,” Dani said with a smile. “Hopefully bitchboy doesn’t show up, but if he does, we’ll be ready.”

“You know,” Joel said excitedly, turning to Ilia. “You’re like The Necromancer’s kryptonite!”

“What?” Ilia gave Joel a blank stare. “What’s kryptonite?”

“You don’t know what kryptonite is?” Joel gaped at Ilia. “How is that possible?”

“Oh my god,” Karyme realized. “Ilia’s older than the Superman reboot. Superman probably wasn’t big when she was growing up because its popularity had tanked earlier that century.”

A beat.

“Wait, wait, oh my god,” Lian said quickly. They turned to Ilia, their expression grave. “This is the most important question I will ever ask you. Have you heard of High School Musical?”

“N-no,” Ilia stuttered. “I haven’t.”

“No,” Lian gasped. Their expression morphed into one of horrified awe. “I see…”

“I don’t understand. What’s High School Musical?” Morgan asked. The awe drained from Lian’s face, leaving behind pure abject horror.

“Movie night,” Lian said firmly, banging their fist on the table like a judge’s gavel. “Tonight. We are watching High School Musical tonight. This is not optional, and I will drag all of you from your rooms to the couch if necessary. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Joel chirped. “I’ll help out if you need it.”

Karyme laughed. The day had already been long, and the week would probably get worse before it got better, but it was nice to be able to find levity in moments like these. They hadn’t really been able to relax recently, but now Kai was back, and things were—not good, perhaps, but better. So maybe a movie night was a good idea, even if Karyme knew that Joel was using it to get out of doing his physics homework—and judging from the knowing smile on Joshua’s face, he knew it, too.

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To the left is a track that corresponds with the first scene in this chapter.