From the outside, the battle between Coraline and Nyarlathotep was a storm that filled the world.
Swathes of fire cracked and clashed against each other in the chaotic maelstrom surrounding the Pink Palace, the falling snow twisting and uncoiling as even the air currents were battered by waves of pure force. Sheets of eldritch light reached into the dark skies and locked horns with one another as they shifted and pushed for dominance. Lightning flashed and tore through trees and mountains and bodies alike as god fought god in a fight which shook the earth.
Lovecraft ducked to avoid an earthing tendril of lightning as he heaved a limp ranger into the attic. He scanned the battlefield desperately for any sign of Coraline, but there was nothing, nothing but paralysed cultists and creatures and scorched earth and strewn corpses and shattered trees, all thrown into a shifting and eerie light by the storm overhead. There was no sign of Nyarlathotep either, nor the Lovat boy. Lovecraft had a sinking feeling that Nyarlathotep had claimed him as his last host.
"What the hell is going on?" yelled Sergeant Foley over the thunder outside, standing to Lovecraft's right and shepherding the remaining ranger teams into the attic. "Has the girl finished reading?"
"She has," yelled back Lovecraft, "And she's fighting one of the Outer Gods. There's nothing we can do now but keep our heads down and our hopes up. If she wins here, then we win all across the world. If not..."
The sentence trailed off there, the meaning clear. Lovecraft and Foley saw the remaining soldiers in, the last of which was Major Song with a blood-soaked bandage over one eye and an unconscious trooper over her shoulder. She nodded at Lovecraft and Foley as she passed, and they silently walked into the attic and closed the door behind them.
The dimly-lit space was thick with pain, unease, and the fug of sweat and desperation. The able milled and fretted and attended to the wounded, who were spread out on sheets on tables or supported in chairs. Miss Spink and Forcible, now recovered, were attempting some sort of brew-up with a battery powered kettle. Miss Lovat was still knocked out. Mr Bobinsky, in the absence of direction from Lovecraft or the two commanders, was barking orders in the cramped conditions, directing help to where it was most needed and stationing guards at the windows and doors.
Lovecraft essayed a glance at his watch. It was two o'clock in the morning.
They waited silently amidst the moans and muffled orders and muttering from within the attic as the world without was torn apart.
"Is this usual?" asked Foley after a time. "I mean, this firework display here. Is this usual when Outer Gods fight?"
"No. Other times, they're more restrained than this," said Lovecraft.
"Why the difference?"
"Because this isn't a matter of humiliating the other, or driving them away, or anything like a normal battle between Outer Gods. This time, they're both fighting to kill. And because Coraline is new to her power, she'll swing it like a club, like a flail around her head that she's just picked up. She won't restrain herself like Nyarlathotep will. He'll keep his in reserve and wait until she betrays a weakness. Then he'll strike."
"Who's your money on?"
"I can't tell you," said Lovecraft, shaking his head. "I honestly couldn't."
The two men glanced out of a window, and the sky flashed electric-blue as thunder pealed and the roof shuddered. All they could do now was watch.
From the inside, the battle narrowed to two points of utter clarity amidst the storm; Nyarlathotep striking forth with all the focused and terrible power the Outer Realms could bring to bear, and Coraline lashing out with power she had just came into, with a skill she had just learned about, against an enemy whose cruelty and cunning knew no bounds, in defence of a single point of light amongst the stars.
They had both struck first, Nyarlathotep lunging straight at Coraline's heart, intending to burn out her soul. Coraline had instinctively struck at him at the same time, unsure of how much power she could bring to bear as she reached for the essence of it in the world around her. A vast wave bursting from her will and sending Nyarlathotep into a desperate dive to avoid it had assured her that it would be sufficient.
But even as Nyarlathotep had turned, Coraline had become aware of multiple great spikes of dark power erupting all around her and driving straight to her. She had drawn upon her new-found sorceric will to knock some aside and dodged the others, but even as she did that, new ones formed around her. Her own power moved to intercept them, fast as chain lightning, and in no time at all her mind was co-ordinating a magical battle that swelled and swelled. Titanic volumes of energy and magic had collided with one another in the air, and off-target and deflected sorcery burst and resolved itself into random matter and energy in the air.
All this happened in the space of a few seconds on the mental scape, even as Wybie's body raised the gun and sighted down its barrel at Coraline. Nyarlathotep pulled the trigger, and time seemed to slow for Coraline as the bullet sped forwards in the air. Then a sudden idea clicked in her mind halfway, through the bullet's flight. If matter and space could be warped by her will, then...
Time itself warped to her will, as she focused upon it and diverted the merest aspect of her mind to slowing it. The bullet slowed, and then crept down to a snail's pace in the air. The sword across Coraline's back flew into her hands and slashed forward, a silver ghost in the air, to knock aside the bullet. In the same motion, she sprang forward at Nyarlathotep.
The gun barrel swung out to meet the sword blade, and Nyarlathotep pushed forwards until he was face to face with Coraline. Behind the green lights of the skull mask, Coraline could see something else stirring, and smiling at her resistance.
"If I must follow this through to the bitter end, Storm-Bringer, then I shall," Nyarlathotep spat in a voice that was Wybie's, yet exactly like the Man in White's in its self-assuredness and mocking edge. "And you shall die. Just like your parents." And with that, he pulled back in a blur even to Coraline's eyes, and dashed the gun stock with lighting speed into her belly. The wind rushed out of her as she fell backwards, and she crumpled to the ground as Nyarlathotep stepped forward so quickly he was only a grey blur in the air.
Speed up, speed up, Coraline desperately willed herself. Speed up to his level and beyond, and kill him. She refocused her will, and leapt to her feet just as the gun stock whirled round at her head. She parried it with the rapier, and stabbed at Nyarlathotep again. He parried the blow, and their weapons began to leap back and forth between them at a speed beyond that of sound. Their battle reflected on the battle without, which sent arcs of fire leaping up into the sky.
"Yes! That's the spirit!" whooped Nyarlathotep. "Pretend you can beat me. Fight with whatever pathetic skill you can muster and show me something you'd call a fight. Your parents died weeping like cowards, but you're much more fun."
"DON'T CALL THEM COWARDS!" she screamed, driving at the grinning god all the faster and all the more furiously, her rapier lashing at him again and again as his gun whirled and deflected every blow.
"Why not? They were cowards." Nyarlathotep's eyes gleamed behind the mask. "Your father pissed himself and sobbed as I stepped towards him with my razor. He bawled like a child and begged me to take your mother instead when I drew it across his throat. And your mother wailed as I killed him, and when I turned my blade upon her she screamed for me to "Take Coraline! Please, don't kill me, take my daughter, I'll give her to you, just please don't hurt me!" I tortured her before she died, and she begged for me to take you instead of her every second. You were nothing to them! You ranked below their worthless hides!"
Nyarlathotep always enjoyed a good taunt. It hurt the victim without the need for a weapon, it distracted them, and it made it easier for himself to disarm and destroy them. Stabbing them in their resolve and twisting the blade could win you a battle outright. But that wasn't the case this time.
Coraline knew he was lying. The words hurt her, but she knew they were false. They didn't drive her to despair or give her pause or even distract her. They upset her, but that was all. An upset she turned into anger. An anger she turned into fury. A fury she fed to the limitless furnace burning in her soul and which drove her onwards and gave strength to her strokes and a impact behind her blows. Her lightning flashed all the brighter, her sword swung all the swifter, and the battle escalated as she tapped upon more and more energy flowing through the fibres of the universe.
But beyond the storm of force that was herself and the dark vortex that was Nyarlathotep, she could feel something else. Something that was distant, but unmistakably vast. It was immense in scope, and slowly, particle by particle, grew larger as the battle went on... She put it from her mind. She had to focus on what was before her.
Nyarlathotep, for his part, was becoming, if not scared, then at least distinctly unnerved.
This battle was a farce. It ought to have been over by now. It ought to have been over a thousand times over. But this insufferable ape-descendant, who should have reduced to nothing but a little disembodied scream floating across the gulfs of the universe forever, was still fighting.
And she was doing more than that; she was holding her ground against him. She hadn't yielded one inch or been affected by his own power yet. Whatever he sent against her was met by an iron-cold and diamond-hard resolve which swung out and dashed aside his every foray and turned it into drifting particles on psychic winds. And her own blows staggered him when they came. He hadn't revealed any weakness or allowed them to affect him, but there was definite force behind them. And on top of everything else, this body was utterly ill-designed for fighting. It wasn't nimble enough, the strength was sub-par, the back was slightly bent in a way which reduced his ability to fight to his full potential, it was too short to effectively wield the gun as a staff, and the original mind kept struggling and biting as his own at a time when he could scarce afford any distractions or needless energy expended.
And then as the tiniest of coils of sorcery from her slipped past his defences and scratched against his will at the same time as her blade cut into his body's forearm, Nyarlathotep began to have a brooding, growing and intensely bad feeling about this.
Right. Time to escalate this.
One of his body's hands jabbed the gun out at her face, a swift weak blow intended to make her duck more than anything else, while the other grabbed at the skull mask and tore it off. Eyes the colour of hell were revealed. His opponent was still a human at heart and would, must, be unable to look upon his eyes and all they held. All that waited beyond the universe could be a little hard to grasp when received by only one of the meagre senses of a limited mind.
Coraline anticipated the action and, averting her gaze as his eyes stabbed forth, swung the rapier up blindly to slam into and penetrate an inch into the flesh of Wybie's chest. The action's sudden failure and the physical pain shot simultaneously through Nyarlathotep's mind like a soldering iron. The coupled pain and disorientation scraped at his composure, and in the brief second that fury ruled him, he unleashed a blast of raw sorcery that hammered into Coraline's physical form and sent her staggering backwards.
Nyarlathotep snarled as he raised the rifle once more, aiming for her head, taking no chances.
But the brief moment of unsuppressed rage had loosened his hold on Wybie's will ever so slightly, just enough for him to burst loose with a heroic effort and reassert just enough control over his arms to send the gun flying upwards and to fire its last round into the sky.
Coraline struck then with the force of a hurricane, flying out faster than the naked eye could perceive and burying her blade up to the hilt in Nyarlathotep's chest as tendrils of sorcery struck out and tore at his will. Spitting and struggling and blind with pain and rage, Nyarlathotep struck out blindly at the gravity around them, and they began to rise into the air together, linked at the sword.
He lashed out once more. She knocked it aside. He drove a lance of pure dark power at her heart and she willed it into nothing. He struck at her again and again, mentally and physically, and each blow was turned away effortlessly and ignored as her own mental attacks escalated and her sword sawed at his flesh.
And finally, a hundred feet in the air, suspended in a rippling lightning-blue column of flickering energy as thick as a redwood and as powerful as a storm, she made an end of things. She hammered home a series of physic assaults, each of which broke apart Nyarlathotep's defences further and finally shattered them apart. The rapier twisted in his chest and she shot a bolt of pure coruscating energy at his mental form, which tore into it. Nyarlathotep subsided, and then and there she summoned mental barriers that hooked into him and rasped across his will. They were impervious to his attacks. They shrank and tightened and ripped into him the more he fought. Eventually, he stopped fighting. Then she had won.
They hung in the air for a long time before Nyarlathotep spoke.
"Enjoy your worthless victory," he spat from blood-flecked lips. "Enjoy it while you can, for you will have little time to do so."
"You think your servants will finish destroying the world? Forget about it, I'll destroy them as well. I'll kill them all and repair the damage you've done."
"Fool of a human," gurgled Nyarlathotep. "Even you can't fight what comes for your world. The first time you'll know of him is when he'll crest the horizon. The next time will be when he'll unmake your world utterly. You will cease to be in all times, all space. You will be gone forever when he arrives."
"What? What the hell are you talking about?" When Nyarlathotep only laughed, she shook him viciously. "Tell me what you're talking about, or I'll damn well tear it from you!"
"So we become those we fight," sniggered Nyarlathotep, and then he howled as a spike of power drove into his ravaged form and twisted as Coraline screamed "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"
"Yog-Sothoth," managed Nyarlathotep finally. "The Lurker that Lies Between. The All-in-One. The greatest of the Outer Gods, the greatest of all our kin, and the most powerful being in reality and unreality and beyond!" He raised one hand skywards, and Coraline looked upwards and saw that the relentless clouds had finally cleared, revealing a perfect night sky for the first time in weeks. Except...
Except it wasn't perfect. There was something a bit off.
"What am I looking at?" she said warily.
"Look at what isn't there," replied Nyarlathotep.
Coraline looked. And realised with horror what wasn't there.
The sky was blank in places it shouldn't have been. Patches of stars were gone entirely. Orion had lost his belt and half his chest. Andromeda was looking threadbare. Sirius was gone. The stars were going out. And in the darkness left in their wake, something moved, slightly. The feeling of something vast that she had felt during the fight grew again, and a feeling of immeasurable cosmic horror stole down her spine and earthed in the back of her mind.
"He comes," Nyarlathotep said in a harsh whisper. "He bears the death of your world with him. The stars themselves die in his wake. Look upon your doom, Coraline Jones, and know that you have gained nothing, nothing, by your victory here."
Coraline looked down at him. She met him eye to eye, and the determination behind her gaze matched the terror that Nyarlathotep could bring forth.
"Nothing," she said, "But immense personal satisfaction. This one's for you, Mom and Dad." She focused once, and followed disparate dark threads across the mental landscape to the clotted centre that was Nyarlathotep's being. He didn't resist as she reached up, didn't resist as she summoned one last great bolt of energy.
He didn't resist as she shot it into his heart, and the twisted fibres that made him up flew apart and burned and became nothing. He merely spat some last piece of spite at her as he died. She ignored him. He deserved nothing more.
It was over. Except it wasn't.
Her mind now turned to the wounded Wybie. As his will slowly spread back out into the vacated areas of his mind and self, she focused upon his wounds, and magical energy shifted into physical matter and stitched apart blood vessels and healed ruptured organs and closed up the wound in his chest where the rapier had entered, and patched up the coat for good measure.
Eventually he coughed, and opened brown clear eyes. He looked up at Coraline, who held him by the shoulders. He looked down at the ground a hundred feet below. He shook his head briskly to shake off any fog left by Nyarlathotep. Eventually he spoke.
"Did we win?"
"Er, I'm not sure to begin here..."