HawkAngel, Oneredneckgoddess: Thank you. I encountered writers block right through the middle of this story, so it took forever.
WWLAOS: It's supposed to be a bit confusing, but Puk is on our side. He was just playing messenger.
The air is chill in the cellar below the tower. This is one place in the tower, that I alone walk. It was my mother's favorite place in the tower, cool and dark, and yet at the same time, so open, that she could spread her wings if she felt the need. This is why I am here. I've mentioned that I don't like to fly because it reminds me of her. Down here, it's almost as if I am flying with her. There is a swirl of dust as I sweep open my wings, and lunge into the air. In the silence, only the rush of air can be heard around me, carrying me away from this place, even as a piece of my mind keeps me from crashing into anything. I can see her flying beside me, a tear in her eye. After father and Deidra were killed on the tower, she almost always had that tear there. I listen carefully, over the sound of the air, and under sound of my heart, trying to decide what she would tell me. As if I already know what she would say, I can hear it.
"Do what you feel you must, because no one else can choose for you. Could I do it in your stead, I would, but I cannot. Only you can choose, to go or stay. I came when I was needed, will you?"
Songbird stalked along the hall, bow in hand, fingers in a crushing grip, knuckles white, threatening to snap the bow. Though outwardly she was simply angry, inside, she wondered why she reacted this way to the memory of her parents, and those other fools in the league. Perhaps, she admitted, it was because she considered them responsible for the death of her parents. If after all, they had not forced her father into the league, she would not be alive, but he would be. Or perhaps he simply would have been killed as he was, defending another, instead of herself. She could still remember the day the Knights had come. Akati's steel sentinels of death. Each group was lead by one more powerful than the rest, wielding a long silver plated scythe, and wrapped in a black robe, as if it was death itself. Her father had fought hard, destroying the six accompanying sentinels, until only the Death Knight remained. A single stroke of the Scythe blade, severed his bowstring, and his throat. Tears formed in her eyes, as she lifted the bow, and aimed for the target. The shot snapped out, impacted, punching through the steel target, and then exploded, sending shrapnel flying back at her. She hissed, and a sound wave burst them into a fine powder. She sighed, as she wrapped a cut across the back of her hand with a blue scarf from her pocket.
J'nol stood at the top of the tower, on the Balcony, still covered by it's protective magic, it was the one place, that he could look out, and see the rest of the world, no matter how ravaged the Overlord made it, he could still see the beauty of the world he had known before it's decimation. He had already decided to go, no matter what the other's did, and if he failed, at least he'd die knowing he'd tried. It was what his father would have done, and it was something he had to do. The air was cool, that of a summer night, and he reveled in it's feel across his skin. Soon, he would leave the tower, alone, or with the others, he did not know. He knew only that he would miss this, almost as much as Inza.
Ace found himself in the Library, as he often did, and he rose into the air, smoothly gaining height as he reached for one of the magical books on the shelf. It was one he visited often, a tome on contacting the dead. He had not told anyone about it, because he did not want to. It was his secret, and his alone. He didn't have the power to produce any of the spells in the book, and though he knew that Rebecca could help him, he didn't want to share it. He settled to the shelf beside the book, and opened it, revealing inside, a photograph he'd found in the tower. In it, stood the entire Justice League. The picture was holographic, so each line could be revealed, by tilting the photograph. He stopped on the third row, floating up above the rest. There, stood his parents, each with an arm around the others shoulders, beside Clark and Diana, as well as J'nol's father, J'onn. He knew that the others would like to see it, but like the book, he couldn't bring himself to show it to them. His father's words rang in his mind, as he sat there, looking at the photo. 'I beg your forgiveness for dying.' Why should he have to beg? Why not Akati? All at once, he decided. He returned the book to it's place, and tucked the photo into his jacket. He would make Akati beg. He pushed off, and dropped soundlessly to the floor.
Rebecca settled to her bed, watching the weather out the window, she swallowed hard, and reached under her pillow, for the weapon that she kept under there. Long and sharp, the knife was forged of magic, and one of the few things capable of penetrating her invulnerable skin. Exactly why she did what she did, she wasn't sure. Maybe it was the feeling of the blade, slicing at the skin, or the smell of the blood flowing from her arm. She wasn't really sure she wanted to know. Though the blood flows, the wounds heal over, almost instantly, without leaving a scar. She is unsure whether that is from her father, or mother, or both, but she is glad for it. There is no trace of the cut, except the few drops of blood, which she wipes from her arm, with a towel, the same color as the blood. Magic she's found, can remove even blood, though she has to wait until Ace is asleep. Leaning back, after replacing the knife, she thought about her mother, the little of her she could remember and started to cry, as the realization that she was loosing that little bit of memory, swept over her. She was still crying, an hour later, when sleep over took her.