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

Many thanks to MugaSofer for fact checking.

Blaze 7.7

Dean stared after Missy and Amy as the door shut behind them. His face was lined with helplessness and shame. He looked like he was about to cry.

No one else spoke. No one seemed willing to look at him, besides me, and my gaze he avoided.

I stood up. Dean looked down, and everyone else's eyes snapped to me.

I waited for a moment, but he didn't look up.

"Look at me," I ordered.

His head came up. He met my eyes. His jaw was set, and his eyes were bright with mingled shame, fear, and despair.

"Do you understand why trigger events are important?" I asked.

He swallowed. "They give us—give you—common ground. Your powers are all poisoned to you. You can't use them without remembering that—and you can't not use them without feeling like you're playing into it all over again."

I nodded. "Two parahumans can understand each other better than two people who don't have a shared experience like that," I said. "It's our greatest strength, even as it's our greatest weakness. As long as we have that foundation, we can foster understanding—and work together, when the situation calls for it."

"And I don't have that."

I raised an eyebrow. "Don't you?"

He blinked.

"Your powers drove your family apart. Your powers prevented you from being blind to their issues—and, I'm sure, to others'."

I saw his eyes flicker to the door through which Missy and Amy had gone.

"And I'm certain," I continued, "that your powers didn't make losing Vicky any easier."

He flinched.

"That," I said quietly, "is what it feels like. So rather than piling more pain on pain, take this as some cold comfort. You have as much grounding in this as the rest of us do. You may have started out differently, Dean—Gallant—but you're one of us now." I stepped forward, and held out my left hand. Vilya glimmered bright and blue. "And that's more than enough for me."

He looked down at my hand. His lips were twisted in an odd mixture of hurt and gratitude. I had reframed the issue in a way that cast him in a better light, but I had also reminded him of Vicky, of Amy, of Missy, and of his family. The duality was as intended as it was harsh.

But, at last, he reached out and took my hand. Araya flared at the contact.

I gripped his hand tightly. "I gave you that Ring for a reason," I said. "You haven't let it down yet, but these past couple weeks have tested you. I know it's been hard. I know it's tempting to falter—but you won't falter. You will carry on, you must carry on—because you can, Dean."

His eyes were bright. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know you," I said. "We all do."

"Yeah, none of us are about to tell you you've had it easy," said Dennis firmly. "We know better. You had it easier at the start, but we've all come a long way since then."

"And that's not even the point," said Carlos. "None of us are jealous that you didn't have to go through a trigger, Dean. We're not..." He shook his head. "I don't think any of us are that petty."

I smiled at him. "Maybe you're not," I said dryly. Then I shook my head. "But that's not the point. Look, you've all seen me work by now, right? At least once. Talk someone down in a crisis."

"Like you did to me," Sophia said.

"Exactly," I said with a nod in her direction. "Part of what I do is find common ground. It's easier to win someone over that way. And if I can't count on them having triggered…" My hands spread in a shrug. "My job just got a lot harder."

"But it does mean we have some capes who are more stable, right?" Chris said. "We have to overcome our triggers. A cape who didn't trigger is, well…"

"Sane?" Sam asked. There was an edge to his voice.

"A cape who didn't trigger has less baggage," Dean said quietly. "It makes it easier to be a hero. I'm not going to pretend otherwise."

I nudged his shoulder. "Stop," I commanded. "Baggage is not something to be proud of, and you have plenty. Worry about that, not piling more on." Then I sighed. "But this is the point, do you see? We're all arguing now. There are seven people in this room, but at least ten opinions."

"So let's find common ground," said Carlos, and Laureya shone upon his finger. "We're a team. We're more than people who work together, more even than people who fight together. We're Ring-Bearers."

Brian lowered his head slightly in the corner of my vision.

"Maybe we didn't all get our powers the same way," Carlos continued. "Maybe we don't all feel the same way about them. But I know that any of us would die for any of the others. I know it'll take more than this to tear us apart-unless we let it."

"So don't," I said softly. "Maybe there was a time when Dean lacked that common ground, but he was still your friend, even then. And that time is long gone. He's one of us."

There was a round of nods and a couple exclamations of "yeah!"

I turned to Dean. He was looking down again. "We don't forgive you," I said softly. "There's nothing to forgive. Thank you for telling us."

For a moment he was silent. Then he jerked his chin in the direction of the bathroom. "Missy's still mad."

"She needs time," I said. "But you already knew that. Something like this has been coming for a while."

He looked up at me. His eyes were red. "I thought our Rings would help," he said.

I shook my head. "Some things," I said softly, "are beyond even Rings of Power."

"On the topic of Rings of Power," Carlos cut in. "Dean said that he might be in danger for telling us all that. Annatar, his future?"

I closed my eyes and reached out with Vilya, peering into the shape of Dean's future. "Nothing," I said. "No more than there is in store for the whole city." I grimaced. "There's bad things coming, though. I can feel it. But nothing directed at Dean specifically."

"Bad things?" Dennis asked. "I don't like the sound of that."

"Nor do I," I admitted. "But whatever's coming, we'll drive it back. That's our job." I looked around, meeting the eyes of each of my Wards-even Amy and Vista, who had just returned. "We're heroes."

It was my second PRT press conference. The first had been my own announcement, and I'd been nervous. I'd been afraid to stand in front of all those people and give an account of myself and my powers.

How strange that thought was now. Admittedly, I wasn't going to be standing up there today, but even so, the thought of stage fright of all things was somehow laughable now.

Piggot was onstage with Miss Militia. We could see them on the screen which was broadcasting the stage to the green room.

There were five of us in the room. I sat on the couch. Aegis was sitting in an armchair, half of a sandwich in one hand. In one corner, Battery was watching the screen. She was here as something of a chaperone.

Amy was leaning against the wall, her hands in the pockets of her long robe. In the end, she'd decided to stick with the identity of Panacea. "It's mine," she'd told me. "Not Carol's, not New Wave's, not even Vicky's. Mine. I decide what it means."

It was the first time since Leviathan's attack that I'd seen her in the old red-and-white hood and robe. She seemed to be as aware of that as I was, if the contemplative, mournful expression on her face was anything to go by.

Brian, on the other hand, was fidgeting with his new costume. It was charcoal grey, a spandex suit with dark red armor plates on the torso, shoulders, knees, and elbows.

"Is this really necessary?" he complained. "It's not as though everyone won't know I'm Grue."

"You'd be surprised," said Battery dryly from where she sat perched on a counter, a cup of coffee in her hands. "Just change your tactics, even if you're allowed to use your whole power suite. It'll fool more than you think."

"Even so," he said. "Couldn't I just… start doing the job? Why go through this whole thing? I'm turning eighteen in three and a half weeks anyway."

"And you won't be going into the Protectorate for a few months after that," Battery replied. "You understand how important a reputation is—you must, or you'd never have bothered paying for that helmet. You get the whole image thing. This is our version of that."

He grunted noncommittally under his new mask, a dark red helmet which revealed the lower part of his face. It was molded so as to resemble flickering flames, which gave way to deep gray smoke at the top. It almost seemed to move as it crowned him in fire and fume.

"A lot has changed in the past few weeks," Piggot was saying. "Leviathan's attack has left every part of this city struggling. No one got out unscathed. But the PRT remains committed to the protection of this city. To that end, we would like to announce some changes to the Wards ENE roster."

"You'd better get backstage," Aegis told Brian and Amy.

Amy was already opening the green room door. "Wish us luck," she said, without much enthusiasm, and stepped through. Brian followed.

"He's not half bad," said Aegis as the door shut.

I nodded. "Has he talked to you? About his reasons, his motives?"

Aegis shook his head. "Not yet. But I like him. He's professional. Not at all the psycho supervillain I was expecting."

"He's just a man. He had his reasons, and they weren't terrible."

Aegis cocked an eyebrow at me. "He was a villain. Maybe he didn't kill anyone, but he was still a criminal. Don't tell me you think he was justified?"

"I think he felt like he didn't have a choice," I replied. "Like the world was set against him from day one, and that the only option was to hit it harder than it hit him. That 'right' and 'wrong' are a lot more arbitrary than they ought to be. He just decided not to waste his time worrying about them when he could be worrying about the people in his life."

Aegis considered me. "Cynical of him," he said eventually.

"Yes. But he's not wholly wrong." I shrugged. "I'd just rather do something about the problems in the system than strike out on my own."

"Most of you already know our first new Ward. She needs no introduction: we're happy to welcome Panacea to the Wards." Miss Militia's smile was audible in her voice.

I glanced up at the screen. Sure enough, Panacea was walking onstage now. The crowd was audibly cheering, but her face was perfectly blank, as much a mask as any of us wore.

"She's not really selling the idea that she wants to be here, is she?" Aegis asked.

The question brought me up short. "Does she?"

"Hmm?" He blinked at me. "It's not like we forced her in."

"She didn't have many alternatives," I said. "I just… I realized I don't know what's keeping her going, now. I hope she's found something."

Aegis' eyes were inscrutable under his mask. "You should ask her later," he suggested. "Unless you want me to?"

"No, I will. I owe her that much."

Panacea had been talking while we spoke. "...I intend to contribute to the Wards more directly than I did to New Wave. I look forward to working with them."

"Please hold your questions until after we've finished our announcements," said Miss Milita, with a dry humor as she looked over the sea of hands. "We have another new Ward joining us."

"He's a new cape," Piggot took over. "His powers create what amounts to wood smoke, which he can use to obstruct sight, sound, and other senses. We're all looking forward to including him in the Wards' patrols. Please welcome Fume."

Brian—Fume—walked onstage. Oily black smoke trailed behind him—and, somehow, even though I was privy to the deception, the illusion still held. Grue had wielded darkness. Fume used smoke.

It wouldn't fool the most determined investigators, but such people were rare—and carefully kept from prominence. No one listened to conspiracy theorists on PHO, after all. I hadn't really cared whether the image department came through for Brian—the people could either believe the lie or accept the truth, and it didn't much matter to me which—but I did find myself impressed by the strength of the illusion.

Fume came and stood by the others. "Hello," he said. His voice seemed to surprise him. I imagine he had seldom if ever spoken to this many people without the comforting echo of his old helmet. "I haven't been around as long as most of my teammates, but I'm learning a lot from them already, and I hope to learn more. I'm excited to have the chance to help protect this city."

I hadn't been party to Brian's conversations with the Image department, but I imagine they had coached him pretty heavily on that persona. The eager and helpful presentation slotted into place so neatly that I would have had trouble detecting the cracks in his facade, had I not known him personally.

"He's a good actor," said Aegis appreciatively.

I nodded.

"Now, we can take some basic questions," said Miss Militia. "The Wards will also be running an AMA on PHO this afternoon. First, the woman in—"

Then, suddenly, the screen cut to static. In the same moment, the building was rocked by a thunderous explosion.

All three of us leapt to our feet. "That came from the auditorium!" Aegis exclaimed.

"Annatar, you take point," ordered Battery, her voice hard. "I'll be behind, but I'll need to build up a charge."

Narsil was already out of its sheath. "Understood," I said, and burst through the door.

Stage crew were running scared, but they made way for me. Soon I was onstage.

Miss Militia had a pistol in her hands, but it was held loose at her side. Fume and Piggot were also perfectly still. All three of them were staring out into the same point in what had been the audience.

A hole had been blown in the far wall. Bodies lay around it, and I knew they were dead, lying among broken recording equipment. The ground and walls were blackened with the force and heat of the explosion. In the middle of the crater stood a man.

He was tanned, and wore a white dress adorned with feathers. His arms were exposed, and were corded with wiry muscle. His eyeless mask was shaped like a woman's face, and it too was lined with feathers.

That mask had been pulled up, and his eyes were fixed upon the three standing onstage. I saw them flicker momentarily to me.

"Kill—" he began, but was interrupted by another explosion. This one came from under him. Strange, crystalline flesh, like a spider's leg made of diamond lattice, burst from the floor, and he was forced to dive backwards to avoid it.

From the base of that tentacle a furrow ran along the ground. I followed that furrow to its source. Panacea knelt there, one hand upon the ground. Nenya shone bright and terrible, practically forming a nimbus around her.

"They're mastered!" she called to me.

I raised my left hand. Narya burned like fire, and the light fell upon the others. As if emerging from slumber, Miss Militia, Fume, and Piggot shook themselves into alertness.

"Not anymore, they aren't," I said.

"Bravo." The man's voice was clear and snide, if a bit muffled behind the crystalline limb. "I'd heard you could counter masters, but I wanted to see it for myself." He was setting his mask back down onto his face as he walked around the pillar of crystal flesh, but it failed to hide the sly smirk on his lips.

"Who are you?" Panacea called, still kneeling with one hand to the floor.

He bowed. "Valefor of the Fallen, at your service," he said. "And, for the crime of standing against Leviathan, I'm afraid you, Annatar, will have to be punished."

I smiled thinly. "You're welcome to try." I was already sheathing Narsil and reaching for Belthronding.

"Oh, I shall," said Valefor. "But not now."

He stepped back, but Miss Militia was already raising her gun. "Surrender," she ordered, and there was a cold fury in her voice—and under it, a shuddering horror at what she had nearly been made to do.

"I think not," he chuckled. "Eligos?"

Another figure stepped out from behind the crystal spiderleg. His hand was already scything through the air as he emerged, and I heard rather than saw the blade approaching. A whistle of air on air, speeding towards us like a thrown knife.

"Get down!" I shouted, and dove.

Not a moment too soon. Almost immediately after I hit the ground, the curtain behind me was sliced cleanly in two, the cut fragment falling to the ground with a muffled thud.

There was a thudding sound. I looked up. The crystalline leg had stabbed into the ground, nearly skewering Eligos as he followed Valefor out, but it had only barely missed. By the time I had picked myself back up, both villains were gone.

There was a strange, gurgling sound to my left. I looked. Piggot was lying against the podium, clutching at her throat. Blood was blossoming from the deep cut there, seeping out from under her fingers. Her face was starkly pale against the red.

"PANACEA!" I barely recognized my own voice as I screamed and dove towards the Director.

Amy was just behind me. "Please try to relax," she said, and I wasn't sure whether she was talking to me or Piggot as she put her hand on the Director's neck. The blood stained her hand red, but the wound quickly began to close.

"The Fallen," said Miss Militia, practically spitting the name. "As if we didn't have enough to deal with."

"Do we have anything on Valefor?" Aegis asked. "A master with that kind of power is going to be a real problem, even with Annatar."

"I've heard the name," said Miss Militia. "We'll look it up when we get back to base."

I stood up, turned, and looked out at what remained of the audience. Most of the crowd seemed to have evacuated, save for those few who had been injured or killed by the initial explosion. I could already hear the sirens of police and paramedics approaching.

I remembered Vilya's premonitions, over and over again, in the past two weeks since Leviathan's attack. Again and again, the ominous cloud that hung over the future had shown itself, and I had been unable or unwilling to probe it in detail.

Now it was too late. Valefor, I was sure, was only one part of it, no matter how terrible he was alone.

I looked over the corpses left by the explosion, and knew with the cold certainty of a seer that they were only the beginning.

End Arc 7: Blaze

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