Many thanks to BeaconHill and GlassGirlCeci for betareading.

Resplendent 12.7

My boots clicked against the pavement as I jumped out of the PRT van. "Spread out," I ordered. "Find Shadow Stalker. Keep in radio contact, and call if you need backup. Empire may still be in the area."

There was a murmured assent from the others. Genesis, in the form of a great apelike thing with four arms, bounded away in one direction, Sundancer running to keep up. Panacea and Shaper skittered off in another direction, their crystalline limbs clinging to the walls of the buildings flanking the street.

Aegis took a position just over my shoulder, hovering two feet off the ground. "Lead the way," he said.

I jogged down an alley, my ears pricked. I reached out with my powers, trying to catch any hint of Cenya and its Bearer. Frantically, I narrowed the search to a neighborhood, a few blocks, one block.

I peered into an alley. Nothing. "Where is she?" Aegis asked, frustrated.

I turned to look up at him, my mouth opening. Then I looked past him, at the roof. Oh. "Up," I said, and jumped. My boots dug into the brickwork, dislodging fragments as I clambered up the wall, scraping at the stone with my gauntleted hands.

In a moment, I was over the low wall of the façade, and there she was. Sophia lay, her breathing labored, in a corner of the roof. Her sleeveless top was torn, and blood oozed from purpling wounds in her side. Her left hand clutched at them, Cenya glowing faintly upon her finger.

I was at her side before I was even conscious of moving. "Sophia," I whispered, my hands—were they really shaking that badly, or was it my imagination?—gently brushing the hair out of her face. As I spoke, I began to hum, and slowly—too slowly—her wounds began to close. "Oh, Sophia, what happened?"

"Emma," muttered Sophia, her voice a damp croak. "And Rune. In costume. I was stupid, thought I could take them. Emma had a taser. She's a combat thinker—predicted my moves. Only just got away."

Aegis landed beside me, his hand already on his radio. "We've found her," he said, his voice hard. "She's injured—Shaper, Panacea, we need help. We're on the roof of the apartments on Jonas and Twelfth."

I ignored him. The anger was rising, hot as a wildfire and twice as ravenous. I tried to keep it out of my voice as I spoke to Sophia. "You did get away. You're safe now. We'll get you healed. It'll be okay, just hold on."

She stared up at me, the reflected stars glittering in her green eyes. "She made me so angry," she said hoarsely. "She got to me, Taylor. I let her get to me."

"She's a Nazi. You have a right to be angry."

"It felt like…" she swallowed. "It felt like I used to be. Like none of this ever happened."

A fist closed around my heart, twisting it. "You're not that person anymore," I told her. "You're not."

"Not now," she agreed helplessly. "But what about next time she's in front of me?"

There was a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Shaper withdrawing a crystalline limb. "Excuse me," they said.

I stepped away, and Shaper approached Sophia, putting a human hand upon her arm. Sophia sighed as her flesh began to knit together, faster than my powers had managed.

I turned away, looking out towards the West. The moon was a faint crescent, a sliver glimmering in the sky. There came no wind; the air was perfectly still. The world was holding its breath, waiting to see what I would do.

"So?" Panacea's voice broke into my thoughts. I turned. Shaper was helping Sophia up, her wounds closed. Her breathing was heavy, but gentler now. Everyone was looking at me.

"Let's get back to base," I said. "We need to prepare."

Sophia fell asleep during the ride back to HQ. Her head nodded, then lolled, coming to rest on my shoulder, drooling faintly on my pauldron.

"How badly was she injured?" I asked Shaper quietly, careful not to jostle my friend.

"A few broken ribs, one of which had nearly punctured a lung, and severe electrical burns spread throughout the body," Shaper reported, businesslike, as if giving the inventory of a warehouse.

"That could have killed her," I said quietly.

Shaper blinked. "Had the lung been punctured, and had we taken longer to arrive, yes. Possibly."

I took a deep shuddering breath. There was an image in my mind, refusing to be banished. Sophia, laying there on that rooftop, her eyes closed, Cenya dull and lifeless on her finger…

With a muffled sound, Sophia shifted on my shoulder in her sleep, leaning against me. I swallowed, clenched my fists, and tried to banish the thought.

"This can't go unanswered," said Genesis. Her sharp eyes watched me from her wheelchair. "You can't let them get away with this."

"We're not villains anymore," Sundancer reminded her friend gently.

"No, Genesis is right," Aegis said coldly, his eyes on Sophia. "She was out of costume. We've tolerated the Empire for too long, anyway." He met my eyes. "I know things are different now," he said. "And I don't want to go back to what we were doing. I don't want to have trouble sleeping at night. But if we don't do anything, that's going to keep me up. Enough is enough."

"Yes," I agreed, resting my head on Sophia's. She made a soft gentle murmur in her sleep. "Enough is enough."

The door to the van opened. Gallant and Vista were just outside. "Is she all right?" Gallant asked.

"She will be once she's had some sleep," I said, gently picking Sophia up and handing her to Aegis. "Get her to bed, and get some sleep. We'll act in the morning."

Aegis' eyes narrowed. "Why wait?" he asked. "I trust you, Taylor—but what are you planning?"

"I need to forge something," I said shortly. "You'll see in the morning. Then… yes. Enough is enough." I glanced at Genesis, then down at Sophia in Aegis' arms. "We won't let them get away with this."

The Wards, Protectorate, and what remained of the Travelers were already assembled in the room when I arrived. The sun had just risen, and the warm light pierced the mists and lit the room in iridescent pink and orange from the windows facing the sea. Around the table sat Carlos, Dennis, Armsmaster, Dragon, Amy, Piggot, and Genesis. They all looked up when I entered.

"Taylor," said Dragon, standing up, her luminous blue eyes warm and concerned. "I'm sorry I didn't come see you. I didn't know you were in the forge all night."

"No need to apologize. I only barely had time to get it finished as it was." I rolled my shoulders. "How is Sophia?"

"She's still asleep," Amy said. "Better to let her recover. She should be up in the next few hours."

"Good. We have work to do."

"What sort of work?" Piggot asked. "Are we planning some sort of retributive strike? That's risky, Annatar."

"Taylor." The word was sharp and hot, frustrated and angry. This is not the fury of Annatar.

"We can't just let this slide," Carlos protested. "They attacked a Ward—as a Ward—out of costume!"

"Dragon," I said, cutting through the conversation. "How quickly can you have the civilian identity of Kaiser?"

Dead silence fell. After a moment, Dragon responded. "By the end of today, at worst. Someone that powerful, it's bound to bleed into their civilian life. I wouldn't be surprised if I had it by the end of the meeting."

"Good."

"We can't just disregard the unwritten rules," protested Armsmaster. "Even if it makes us safer here, it sends a message that the PRT and Protectorate don't care about them. It'll create chaos!"

"They attacked Sophia first!" countered Dennis.

"They—a Neo-Nazi organization—attacked a black girl in their territory," I said quietly. "The message will be clear, if we escalate. Which is why we won't break the unwritten rules. Not explicitly."

Piggot frowned, leaning forward. "What do you mean?"

"We find Kaiser's identity," I said. "We use it to track Empire's movements—the paper trail should be easily found, with Dragon and Amy's help. We don't need to attack any civilian assets or expose a single civilian identity. Moreover—we must do this without breaking the rules, at least visibly. I've had enough of chaos."

"And once we have a lock on one of Empire's interests, we take it out," Amy said thoughtfully. "They don't know where we got the information, and no one needs to know."

"Precisely." I smiled coldly. "We will play by the rules—rules which have always favored the villains and rogues over the heroes—and we will win anyway."

"Be careful, Taylor."

I whirled. Sophia was leaning against the doorframe behind me, watching me with those bright green eyes, her hands in the pockets of a hoodie. "You're awake," I said stupidly.

"Just got up," she said. "Taylor—you're furious. Are you sure you're thinking straight?"

I clenched my fists. "They could have killed you," I hissed. "They're monsters, and now they've made it personal. Yes, I'm furious—and I refuse to believe it's wrong for me to be! I'm angry because I care."

She searched my face for a moment, then sighed and nodded. "Okay," she said. "I hope you know what you're doing, Taylor—this is uncharted territory for me."

"Me too," I admitted. "I'll need your help. I don't think this is too far—but I'll need your help, before we're done, to make sure I don't cross that line."

She smiled at me. "I'm with you."

I smiled back with a sigh, then turned back to the room. "Then that's settled," I said. "Unless anyone else has any objections?"

There were none. "Question, though," said Amy. "What were you forging all night?"

"A weapon," I said. "Iphannis is powerful and useful, but I needed a sword. I reforged Búrzashdurb."

Sophia made a sound somewhere in the back of her throat. "Taylor—"

"I know," I said, grimacing. "I'm not sure, either. But… if I can be remade, can become something better than I was, then… so can it. It's a part of me. I don't want to forget it, I want to carry it with me."

She sighed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just worried about you, Taylor."

"I know. Thank you." A thought occurred to me. "Do you want to see it? The new blade?"

She blinked, then smiled. "Sure."

I turned to Dragon. "You'll let me know the moment you have something on Kaiser?"

She nodded. "It shouldn't take more than an hour or so, now," she said. "I've already found a promising lead."

"Great." I clasped my hands together. "Everyone, get ready. I expect we'll attack sometime tonight. Sophia?"

She followed me out of the room. "I really am sorry I'm second-guessing you so much," she said as soon as the door closed behind us.

"Don't be," I said, smiling at her. "It's… it's nice. It makes me feel safer with myself." I put a hand on her arm and met her eyes. "How are you feeling?" I asked. "Did Shaper catch everything?"

"You know they did," Sophia said, amused—but her smile was warm. "I'm fine, Taylor. Thanks for picking me up."

"Always, Sophia."

We entered the elevator, and the doors slid shut behind us. As it hummed around us, descending into the building, Sophia asked, "How's your dad doing?"

"Much better," I said. "He's… he doesn't understand, but he is understanding. If that makes sense?"

"It does," she said. "That's great, Taylor. That's a huge relief."

"It really is," I agreed. My lips twitched down slightly, my smile shrinking. "And you? How's your family?"

She chuckled, but a faint shadow crossed her face. "Steven's been leaving me alone," she said. "He doesn't have any power over me anymore. But… I don't know. He's still got my mom, my brother, my little sister. I don't know what to do about that."

"You don't have to do anything," I said. "But, if you decide there's something you want to do, I'm with you. You know that."

"Yeah. Thanks, Taylor."

The elevator doors opened, and Sophia followed me out, down the hall, and into my workshop.

The sword hung on the wall, wrapped in dark leather. I pulled it down, running my fingers against the scabbard. "I'm a bit stuck on what to name it," I admitted. "Nothing comes to mind."

"I don't know a lot of Quenya, so I doubt I'll be much help," Sophia pointed out. "But come on—let's see it!"

I smiled uncertainly and slowly unwrapped the hilt. It was dark, a shadowy metal reminiscent of the mace from which it had been forged, but a flicker of silver was reflected in it. Then, with one smooth motion, I pulled the blade out of its sheath. The dark metal of Búrzashdurb had been layered under a thin coat of mithril, unevenly melding with the truesilver. The effect was something like Damascus steel, swirling in black and silver. The metal reflected the the fluorescent light of the room, and the faint glow of the furnace, in a strange swirl of colors. Orange, pink, and white seemed to change and shift constantly as I turned the blade in the air before me. A sense of mourning, of loss and regret, clung to the blade like dewdrops on a leaf in autumn.

Sophia breathed in sharply, and so did I. I hadn't noticed the blade's beauty, even as I forged it. "It's gorgeous," she breathed.

"Yes," I agreed quietly.

"You can't come up with a name?"

"No," I said, glancing at her. "Any ideas?"

She considered the blade for a moment, and then her eyes wandered, to the shimmering patterns it cast on the walls. "One," she said. "What's the Quenya word for 'Sunrise'?"

I blinked at her, then smiled slowly. "Anarórë," I said. "But-no." I glanced back at the blade. "I'm Taylor," I said. "Not Annatar. Quenya was the language of the old world, but I am a child of the new." I swallowed. "You will be the light that breaks from the darkness," I murmured to the sword. "You will be the ending of the shadow, the beginning of the day. You will be the breaking of the clouds on the last day of winter. I name you—Sunrise."

End Arc 12: Resplendent