Chapter Text
Sasha breathed heavily, head spinning, desperately trying to get her feet. Grime lay on the ground a few yards away from her, and looking at him sent a pang of grief and anger through her heart. She couldn't see if he was breathing or not, and that terrified her. Her back burned, the long slash Darcy had given her along her spine occupying much of the rest of her mind. The rest of it was focused pointedly on Darcy, who had turned quickly to look out toward the outside, at the top of a building.
Finally managing to get her hands under her, Sasha pushed herself to her knees, fighting back a groan that would alert Darcy to her movement. She got onto one foot, then the other, and stood shakily. From this vantage point, she could finally see what Darcy was looking at - and her eyes widened at the sight.
Anne and Sprig were facing down Andrias. Her friend was on the ground, Sprig standing in front of her, holding up what looked like a sheet of red paper. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Andrias stood frozen, despite the two of them being entirely open to attack. As she watched, a faint blue glow entered Anne’s eyes.
Sasha’s heart swelled with an emotion she couldn't name in the moment. She knew at least a bit of the lore about the calamity stones and what they represented - and she knew the blue of Heart was what she was seeing. Anne, empowered by those she loved, shouldering the responsibility of saving the entire world.
Something flared to life within Sasha. Suddenly, the pain in her back faded until it was an afterthought. She felt warmth spread through her limbs, reminiscent of when she had retrieved Barrel’s Warhammer, and she knew, somehow, without even looking, that Anne’s Heart had reconnected her with the power of the stone she represented. Strength .
She knew she didn't have much time. She’d seen how Anne had collapsed shortly after using her powers for the first time.
Her heart broke seeing Marcy controlled like this. Her body was clearly being pushed past its limits, moving unnaturally, myriad voices superimposed over hers, an unnerving smile etched onto her face. What is she going through in there? Sasha wondered. Whatever it is…she isn't going to be the same, is she? I…yeah, I can't be mad anymore. This is too much. I…
Darcy growled, then spoke to Sasha for the first time since they'd been actively fighting. “Hey, Sash. As a fellow control freak, you’ll enjoy this!” They raised a hand toward Andrias, and the red-orange eyes, and matching lights in the room, all flared.
A slight noise came from the ground, metal on metal. She looked down. Grime was watching her, eyes open! He'd kicked one of her swords over to her. She bent down and picked it up, watching as the pink power of Strength imbued it.
And then Anne flew toward Andrias. The king…opened the panels of the mech suit he was wearing? Sasha blinked. Was he surrendering? The answer seemed to be a resounding yes, as Anne crashed straight through his body.
Darcy shouted something in frustration, but Sasha wasn't listening. Now was her moment. She looked around the room for the best way to attack without hurting Marcy’s body too badly - Anne would never forgive her if she did.
She honed in on the cable connecting Darcy to the main Core, and charged toward it, Darcy’s words ringing in her ears. Fellow control freak…
“I AM NOT THAT PERSON ANYMORE!”
She brought the sword down on the cable.
“You missed,” Darcy gloated, one of those horrible smiles on their face.
“Wanna bet?” Sasha grinned, gripping her sword tighter just in case, the pink strength energy flaring around her.
The eyes on the helmet flashed, and Darcy frowned. Then they screamed. “MY CONNECTION!” Whirling on Sasha, they lurched forward. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!” Then they staggered backward, clutching their head in both hands. Red-orange lightning flared around them both, the eyes on the central Core machine shattering one by one, Darcy’s body jerking as some of it flowed through her as well. Sasha winced, her heart nearly stopping ( please please please don’t let this kill her ), darting forward to catch her by the arms before she fell. Darcy struggled in her grip, but her strength prevented their escape. “NO!”
“I’ve given her a chance.” Sasha’s voice echoed louder in the room, then softened as she stared into the central eyes of the helmet. “C’mon, Marcy, I know you're in there. I'm here. I love you. I forgive you. So please…fight it. I'm right here. I've got you.” Sasha smiled at her, hoping Marcy could somehow see. “I believe in you.”
Darkness enveloped Marcy.
After she’d figured out the fantasy mindscape Aldrich had created for her wasn't real, he had locked her in a void of absolute nothingness . If it wasn't for the small light emanating from the photograph she still clutched in her hands, she wouldn't be able to see anything at all. Not that there was anything to see, really.
Until whatever is left of your personality fades.
His words echoed in her head, and she knew she didn't have much time. How long had it already been? Minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? How long had she been within the Core overall, first locked in the puzzle room, then solving the far-worse puzzle of the mindscape?
How long until she forgot Anne and Sasha’s faces? How long until she forgot her own?
She began to pace, thinking. All she could see in her mind's eye were their betrayed expressions. She wanted nothing more than to apologize. She…had she? What…what had happened after they found out she’d known the box might work?
Did Anne…did Anne what?
Oh frog , Anne probably thought she was dead.
Why would Anne think she was dead?...
And was Sasha okay? Andrias had…
What?...
Her head spun. She’d known part of her memory was missing. She suspected that it had something to do with being assimilated into the Core. (But she hadn't properly joined the Core, had she?) But these pieces of missing memory felt big. Felt important.
She had to get out. She had to find out what she was missing. Slowly but surely, she was getting the feeling that something was very wrong. Something outside the Core.
Did she still have a real body?...
Suddenly she felt her chest burning, right down the center. Her limbs ached like she’d pushed herself too far in P.E. Her head pulsed with a migraine, and she doubled over, crying out in pain. Her hands instinctively flew up to clutch at her scalp, and she dropped the photo.
“No! NO! ”
Despite the pain, she scrambled for it, but the light faded into the distance. Finally, she was in utter darkness.
“No…”
Something buzzed through her veins, an electric fizzling. She could feel herself shaking. Her shoulders began to heave with choked sobs.
“Sasha…Anne…I still believe in you. I’m so, so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm fighting. I'll get back to you. I'll get back to you, so I can make it up to you, if you’ll still let me.”
Something flared to life in her chest, a calm warmth, displacing the cauterizing burn. A soft green light emanated from her, and she felt something materialize in her palm. She looked down to see what it was.
It was a d20, glowing the same soft green. Roll for initiative, something within her whispered.
She followed her heart.
15.
Suddenly, in front of her, a field of orange eyes opened, and another d20 - the same orange - appeared, rolling to a stop beside hers. 17.
“Darn it.”
The eyes hissed at her, and the orange d20 rolled again. 14. Pain exploded through her head again, and she heard one word hiss through her head.
Submit.
“No.”
She picked up her own die, rolling it again, willing every ounce of whatever this power within her was to make it roll high. She had to make this…this Wit save.
16.
Faint voices echoed in her ears. Someone shouting, someone familiar…then…her voice? A thousand voices?...
The Core rolled high again, and another wave of agony shot through her.
She focused on the voices and rolled her save.
18.
She felt…was that her body? Or something that felt like a phantom version of it…it was moving, pushed well past its limits. She used every ounce of her Wit to puzzle this out.
If she could just get into that body…control it…
Another wave of sheer agony, this time accompanied by a screech of terror from the Core. Blood-lightning crackled through the void as she picked up the die again. Her turn.
NAT 20.
She grit her teeth, pouring all her focus into this one single action, and connected with her phantom form. She wavered as her shaking form merged with it. All the pain and exhaustion she had been feeling crashed over her a thousand fold.
There were firm but gentle hands on her arms. A helmet on her head, some sort of pins digging painfully into her scalp, her back, her limbs. Agony shot through her, down her spine, through all her nerves. The Core was still screaming, but someone else’s voice was drowning it out.
Sasha’s voice, echoing with a Strength she’d never heard in it before.
“C’mon, Marcy, I know you're in there. I'm here. I love you. I forgive you. So please…fight it. I'm right here. I've got you.”
Through an orange-green haze, she finally saw Sasha…smiling at her?
“ I believe in you. ”
Slowly, Marcy’s trembling hands reached up, clutching the helmet. The Core howled louder as green light flared through the void, shattering the orange eyes. She screamed, or thought she did.
Finally, she wrenched the helmet free in a brilliant flash of green, and she knew no more.
Sasha stared into the main eyes of Darcy’s helmet, willing herself to pretend they were Marcy’s brown ones.
C’mon. I know you're in there, Mar-Mar. Fight it. Please. We can't… I can't lose you.
A pinprick of bright green light appeared in Darcy’s left eye…then the central eye…then their right…
…then spread to the other seven eyes, growing brighter and fuller each moment…
…tears began to fall from under the helmet, making faint tracks down their face…
…a green aura surrounded them…
Sasha watched in awe, eyes wide, as Darcy - no, Marcy! - lifted her hands to the helmet and pulled hard.
Her heart nearly stopped as Marcy screamed in agony. And then, there was an explosion of green light as that awful helmet was wrenched off. Marcy stood before her, eyes wide and filled with tears and glowing a brilliant green. Her matted hair momentarily took on a life of its own, sparkling with the same green light, blowing in a nonexistent breeze. And then her scream abruptly died in her throat as the green light faded. Her eyes - brown again, not green, not orange, brown - rolled back in her head and fluttered shut, and she slumped forward, the helmet clattering to the ground beside her. Sasha threw her arms around the smaller girl, cradling her head against her shoulder. The pink light around her faded, and she crumpled to her knees, head spinning but determinedly not letting go. She couldn't tell if Marcy was breathing. Whatever the armor she was wearing was made of, it prevented her from seeing any sort of rise and fall of her chest.
An idea sprang into her mind, unbidden, almost like Marcy had put it there. She may as well have, given it came from War of the Warlocks, of all things. There was a scene where Edgin needed to know if his sister was alive, and he…
Sasha reached out blindly for her heron sword, gripping the hilt in a shaking hand and holding the blade in front of Marcy’s mouth. The reflective surface clouded faintly.
Oh, thank frog. She let out a relieved sob, dropping the sword and gathering Marcy in her arms, holding her close. Another wave of dizziness washed over her, but she ignored it in favor of gently wiping some of the mud-green blood away from Marcy’s face, taking care to avoid the angry cuts where the helmet had dug in. (She was trying really hard not to think too hard about the whole “green blood” thing. What had Andrias and the Core done to her?)
“Marcy, wake up,” she pleaded, voice cracking with anguish.
“SASHA!” A voice echoed through the now-silent chamber. Anne’s voice.
“OVER HERE!” Sasha tried to yell back, but it came out choked and quiet. Nevertheless, Anne spotted her, and practically skidded over, dropping to her knees beside her two friends, covered in her own fair share of dirt and debris and cuts and scratches.
There was unmistakable dread in her eyes. “Is she…”
“Alive,” Sasha replied in a whisper. She shifted Marcy carefully so Anne could wrap an arm underneath her too. “She’s - oh frog , Anne, it was so messed up…” Tears were pouring down her face now. “She fought it. She got the helmet off. But she…her scream…” She sobbed again, pressing a hand over her mouth.
“Oh, Sash…” Anne reached out with her free hand and gently wiped some of her tears away. “It's going to be okay. She’s going to be okay.” She looked down at Marcy, carefully brushing some of her tangled hair away from her face. Her trademark green clip was gone, and Sasha’s heart clenched at just how un-Marcy-like the Core had made her.
“Marcy,” she whispered, joining Anne in carding her hand through the smaller girl's hair. She winced at the feeling of more blood matting it down. “Please, wake up.” She glanced up at Anne briefly - the other girl was crying too. “We love you,” she said softly.
“And we forgive you,” added Anne, her voice shaky. “Please…”
Marcy twitched, her brow wrinkling. The other girls gasped, holding her more tightly. She whimpered, shifting her head, her eyelids fluttering.
“C’mon, Marbles,” Anne encouraged her. She leaned down and gently kissed Marcy’s forehead, disregarding the blood and sweat (Sasha couldn't deny that her heart grew a couple sizes on seeing that devotion, that heart ). “You can do it.”
“We’ve got you, Mars,” Sasha added softly, picking up her hand, interlacing their fingers, and squeezing gently.
“Anne?” Marcy mumbled weakly. “Sasha?”
“Right here.” Sasha choked on another sob, this time with relief, as Marcy finally opened her eyes.
Her gaze was unfocused as she looked from one girl to the other, but her eyes were still their normal (beautiful) brown.
“’M sorry,” she managed. “So sorry.”
“It's okay, Marcy.” Sasha squeezed her hand again. “We forgive you. We forgive you.”
Marcy’s eyes filled with tears, and she let out her own wheezing sob. Sasha winced at the sound, remembering just how far Darcy seemed to have pushed her body when they were in control. Or maybe it was the older injury from Andrias’ sword, a sight that had appeared over and over in her nightmares.
Anne and Sasha helped her sit up, rubbing her back and talking to her softly, leading her through some exercises to help her catch her breath. She slumped against Anne’s shoulder for support, still clutching Sasha’s hand in a shaking grip.
Finally, when Marcy seemed to have calmed down somewhat, Sasha looked up to see that others had joined them. Lady Olivia was watching them with tear-filled eyes, a hand clamped over her mouth. General Yunan had both arms around her, cradling her head to her shoulder. Of all people, Sprig was seeing to Grime’s missing arm, holding some salvaged fabric against it to staunch the bleeding. Polly was still sitting in her turret-seat atop Frobo, and Hop Pop was unrolling some bandages, his eyes fixed on the girls with a heartbreakingly sympathetic look.
Behind them was the shattered cyborg form of Andrias Leviathan, clearly in no condition to fight and offering no resistance, watching with a look of horror and resignation on his face.
“Guys,” Anne said softly, finally noticing them too. “We…we did it.”
Marcy sniffled. “It's over?” she asked, her voice small.
“It's over,” affirmed Sasha. “Now let’s patch you up, hm?”
The girl finally looked down at herself, seeing the black armor with the extinguished orange eye on her chest. The pain seemed to register with her at last, and she winced as she shifted. “Yeah…please.”
Anne and Sasha carefully slung her arms over their shoulders and stood, whispering reassurance when she whimpered in pain. Sasha winced as pain lanced through her back - Marcy didn't notice as her eyes were squeezed shut, but Anne shot her a very concerned look.
At last, Lady Olivia found her voice. “Follow me - let's get you to the castle infirmary.”
“We’ll keep an eye on things here, Lieutenant,” Grime added, giving Sasha a weak smile.
She smiled back, tearing up again. “I'm so glad you're alive, Grimesy,” she said, her voice shaky. “So glad.”
“Go, take care of yourself and your friends.” He waved his remaining arm at them. “I'm in good hands with Sprig, here.”
Anne grinned. “Yeah, you are,” she replied, as they left the room.
About halfway to the infirmary, Sasha’s knees finally started to buckle, and she stumbled. Yunan rushed to catch her on her free side. “You’re bleeding,” she observed, glancing down at Sasha’s back, where the slash from Darcy’s scythe was clearly visible.
“I'm fine,” Sasha replied, looking down at Marcy, whose brow had wrinkled at Yunan’s matter-of-fact statement.
“Did I do that?” the girl asked, her voice so quiet it was almost inaudible.
“No,” Sasha replied firmly. “No, you didn't. That was definitely not you.”
“If I’d been faster…”
“Marcy.” Sasha leaned her head down to rest briefly on top of the smaller girl's, trying to reassure her. “Breathe now, process all that in a bit, okay?”
She nodded with a tiny, grateful smile. Anne clasped her hand in her free one, squeezing it gently in support.
They limped the rest of the way to the infirmary, finally, truly together again.
(For now.)