Many thanks to Assembler, frustratedFreeboota, skyrunner, BeaconHill, and ShadowStepper1300 for betareading.

Many thanks to MugaSofer for fact checking.

From the Journal of Annatar (2)

Sunday, May 15th, 2011

Nenya is gone.

Is it not strange that, of all the myriad transformations my world has undergone since last the sun rose, it should be this upon which I fixate? I have met an Endbringer in battle, I have watched a hero die, I have seen the unyielding break, I have—

Once again, my thoughts return to that moment. Amy—Panacea—standing over her dead sister, listening to her mother go mad with grief, powerless to do aught about either. I heard the soundless sound of shattering glass. I pray I shall never hear it again. And, if Nenya is as well matched to its bearer as it now appears, I never shall.

It is difficult, I find, to force my mind away from that void in the Jewelry Box where Nenya once sat. It is difficult to set aside the fact that I shall never again feel the Ring of Adamant bracing me. Yet I must, for there are other things of which I must make sense. I must understand today, before the morrow comes.

We, the Wards, stood alone against an Endbringer today. We met with no victory, but we survived. At the time, as my heart burned with righteous fury and Narya shone bright upon my finger, our survival came as no surprise. There was fear, but only so that courage could be raised above it. In that moment, I built for myself a citadel of bravery, unassailable and impenetrable, and upon its ramparts my Wards took up the defense. And though the wave did eventually scatter us, we stood against Leviathan as a levee to the sea. We held long enough for our allies to fortify the hospital, and thus saved I know not how many lives.

The others are entirely correct when they tell me this is not ordinary. Indeed, it is so far beyond the ordinary that even I am startled by it. I have earned the attention of Legend, won the respect of Rune, and likely drawn the gaze of many more of whom I have yet to learn.

It seems undeniable that I was instrumental in today's battle with Leviathan. I know not what to make of this. From a utilitarian perspective, it is at once a good and a bad thing. I am now someone to be watched—which affords me respect, but also makes me a target. I know not whether I am ready to face this change. The world now looks rather different than it did yesterday. Yesterday, Lung was my most dangerous foe. Now? Now, I know not who my enemies are.

I have, however, gained allies as well. Legend seems to respect me. Perhaps he merely seeks to manipulate me—but I shall manipulate him in return. He cannot allow me to die, and that gives me some semblance of security. Through this connection I retain some safety in the form of the Protectorate, despite my increasingly precarious position.

And yet even my colleagues and friends are not beyond mistrust. As I saw today, temptation may subvert even the most stalwart will. Armsmaster is not a selfish man. He is merely a man who wished to protect his home. A man who convinced himself that, in keeping with that noble goal, it was fitting that he receive a Ring of Power. These Rings which I have created are powerful, dangerous, and above all desirable. Men will seek them, covet them, and may attempt to steal them. I must have care, lest I find Vilya or Narya taken from me.

But enough of this digression. I set my Wards against Leviathan. Why did I do this? Was I blind to the risks? Or did I think my teammates' lives were a fitting trade for victory against the Endbringer?

The very thought makes my skin crawl. My teammates are precious to me—more than I would have deemed possible but two months ago. Remembering Glory Girl's ruined form upon the cot, it is terribly easy to imagine Dean, or Carlos, or Sophia in her place. The very image makes me sick. I am certain that, had such a thing happened, I would have been devastated. It is quite impossible to imagine myself coldly deciding that the cost was fair afterwards. To do so would be tantamount to a betrayal of all I have learned, all that I am, all that I represent.

And yet I do not believe I was blind. I had just watched Amy, bowed over Victoria's corpse; the unbreakable broken. I had just seen the suffering that comes with loss. I was not so foolish as to be blind to the possibility that one of us might die.

And yet I acted. I drew the Ring-Bearers together, and together we struck at the monster. Why?

I cannot place the word. Courage? Trust? Faith?

I trusted my teammates. I had courage, and knew they would, too. I had faith that we would succeed. We are Ring-Bearers. We are blessed with power beyond the norm, power nearly beyond belief. We were forged for the impossible.

Earth Bet has suffered under the heel of these Endbringers for too long. Mankind has its own demons to fight—avarice, hatred, and their ilk. These monstrosities, these Endbringers, are beyond what mere men can or should face. I know not why, but I feel somehow fated to fight these things—and to win.

Have I lost my mind? Why should I be the one to succeed where generations of capes have failed? What have I that they had not?

I know not what, but I cannot convince myself that there is nothing. Is this pure arrogance, then? Simple-minded vanity? Am I so shallow that I must believe myself above even such personages as Legend, Eidolon, Alexandria, and Hero, merely to slake my own thirst for respect?

And yet…

And yet the Rings of Power are unlike any tinkertech I have seen or heard tell of. And yet Narsil shines with the light of sun and moon. And yet Iphannis is bright and sharp, and my armor is hard. And as I bear them all, encased in my shell of arms and armor, I no longer feel human. I become something else—something more. I am not invincible—I am not immune to fear, as Leviathan showed me. But I feel powerful. Not merely strong in the sword-arm, but strong in heart and mind and voice.

Would meek, beaten, sad little Taylor Hebert of yesteryear have been able to draw Sophia back from the pit? Would she have been able to strike Bakuda down, without hesitation or mercy? Would she have been able to stand against the sea itself, and say 'stop'? I think not. I am more than I was. Not merely in the sense of power—as I warned Sophia, power merely allows one to endure. I do not merely endure—I thrive.

I find myself wondering if the answers to these questions lie in that same enigma that surrounds my powers. How am I a parahuman, without a functioning gemma? How have I powers with no apparent source? These questions linger, circling like vultures in my mind. And yet I have no way to know. Not yet.

I have faith that answers will reveal themselves in time.

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