I Am The Tempest: Part 2

It was too soon. Everything was too soon. He had to operate under the assumption everyone else was busy with their own battles, seeing as he and Mana were cut off from communication inside Lacia’s nightmare, though it was beginning to feel more like his own nightmare. His thoughts scattered like leaves in the autumn breeze, unable to focus on one single thing or feeling. He pressed his fingers against the sides of his head, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do: extend Mana’s fading life, or hide her somewhere safe and finish the fight with Lucifero himself? If he chose the latter option, he would waste valuable minutes he could use to potentially save her life; if he chose the former, there was a chance he also succumbed to the devil’s attacks. The fact was that a chance still existed, and it was a chance he was willing to take.

“It’s too soon. Not here. This isn’t where our story ends.”

He acted without thinking, promptly cutting the electric braid of Mana’s whip by anchoring it to the ground with his own magic. She was too weak to do anything but frown in his direction as the line went slack, Lucifero still approximately twenty yards away.

“He won’t be an issue until his head stops spinning from the punch you hit him with.” He moved quickly. “I can’t transfer my mana to you, but what I can do is slow your body’s decline. That will give your mana a chance to recover enough for a final attack.” He closed his eyes as he crouched down, pressing two fingers against Mana’s forehead; a soft, white glow enveloped her body. “Now stay here and don’t move. Like before, I’ll give you the signal.”

She leaned back on her hands, barely able to feel the snow. “You’re wasting your time, Brendan. I don’t even want to be…” She closed her eyes and turned her head away. If she said what tied her tongue, the words would become real, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to admit she was ready to die. “I dragged Lucifero close enough. Don’t waste this chance… If your conviction is as strong as you’re making me believe.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” Brendan turned his head around to catch a quick glance at Lucifero, slowly regaining his composure. He removed his fingers from Mana’s forehead and stood back up. “In the future, remember that it’s okay to wear your heart on your sleeve a little more.”

“I wonder just how much the poison is making these thoughts worse… They certainly aren’t new… And why does he have to make me feel like this? It makes everything worse.”

He counted the remaining seconds until the flame he’d snuck onto Lucifero was extinguished. Then, he attacked. He hadn’t completely figured out his abilities yet. If he came on too strong or too weak, he’d become the meat inside the devils’ stew. Being a man meant knowing his own strengths and weaknesses… and giving Mana a chance to prove herself instead of stealing her thunder. This had always been her fight, but being a man also meant supporting her when she needed it most—this was that time.

A volley of arrows flew into Lucifero’s chest as they ignited in powerful, explosive bursts of blue flames, shrouding the devil’s view in thick, black smoke. A moment later, Brendan emerged from the billowy shroud as he knocked the devil into another nearby building using the latent heat from the earlier explosions; by amplifying the heat and compressing the air, he could launch invisible attacks that avoided physical contact. He didn’t have to feel the crunch of shattering bones to know he’d broken every rib in Lucifero’s chest.

“It’ll take him a good minute to heal that one off,” he said, already halfway into his follow-up attack. “I have to keep hitting him until he can’t heal quick enough.”

But before he could take a breath, he found himself playing dodgeball with large chunks of concrete and broken furniture—he’d officially pissed Lucifero off. The volley was short-lived as the rest of the debris sank beneath the snowy earth in some kind of strange gravity well, but it had stopped his momentum, forcing him to reconsider his approach.

“That confirmed a theory I’ve been mulling over. Let’s see if I’m right about this.”

“You two are a nuisance,” Lucifero called out, but his voice lacked the fury Brendan had been expecting. As the debris-made dust cloud cleared, he seemed to be in no hurry to move, enjoying his leisure inside an expensive-looking, leather recliner. “I think I’ll make this my new throne once Ahzef leaves your current realm. By that time, there will be no opposition to my rule,” he rambled.

“Hope you like it cold, then,” Brendan added, “because any heat you generate is mine.”

“Yours? Ha! That’s all you want?”

“Sure is!” He held out a fist… and Lucifero slipped out of the recliner. A budding warmth filled his hand; the air shimmered before the stolen heat absorbed into his body. “Would you like to see if that broken highchair over there fits your ass better since your ego makes you act like a child?”

“Clever… You removed the friction between me and the leather of the recliner by removing the transfer of heat…” He sounded genuinely impressed. “Alas, plastic isn’t befit for devilish royalty such as myself. Now, it’s my turn!”

The world made a one-hundred-degree turn, knocking Brendan off his feet and Mana onto her side as they tumbled down the newly created snowy slope—faster than what should have been possible. Brendan caught himself in midair, using his own body heat to stay afloat. Mana dug her hands into the snow, trying to keep herself from sliding off into the side of a building or tree somewhere.

The snow fell sideways, like someone had tipped a snow globe around to examine it from the side. Even the rubble from the building Mana had partially destroyed began to slide down the slope, disappearing into who-knows-where as it narrowly missed her by inches: pieces of linoleum, bent metal from the basketball hoops, and concrete chunks from the ceiling. She’d only destroyed the gymnasium-ballroom, but that didn’t make the rubble-turned-inadvertent-weapons any less dangerous.

“Ok, so now we’re rotating shit. That’s going to be a pain, but it doesn't change the plan.” He pinned the loose fabric of Mana’s dress to the ground with a series of arrows, successfully holding her in place. “Don’t go bailing on me now,” he joked.

“Trying my best here,” she replied, unamused. “Kinda just had a bunch of rubble almost take me out instead…”

With Mana secured, and now out of immediate danger of the rubble’s path, he turned his attention to the matter at hand. He’d chosen something simple, like removing the friction from Lucifero’s seat, to test what was now a working theory which had prompted Lucifero to show his hand. On level terrain, he had the advantage, but when the dimensions distorted or the density of gravity changed, Lucifero had the advantage.

“In a perfect world for you, this would be an issue for me,” Brendan admitted. “But now I know how your abilities work. Let’s find out who’s smarter!”

He volleyed another set of flame-tipped arrows, using the heat from the flames to alter the arrows’ speed and trajectory. The friction between the shaft and the wind added another layer of heat, albeit subtle, he could use to alter the density of the air.

The dimensions twisted again, funneling Brendan’s arrows through an anaerobic space this time. The flames abruptly extinguished as they began to fall. Without oxygen, they couldn’t burn, and the friction between the arrows and the air was just as nonexistent. Fighting sideways meant adjusting his aim and how far back he had to pull the bowstring before releasing an arrow—more than he was used to; the ability to envelop something like an arrow in a highly-specific, oxygen-less zone, however, was worrying.

Suddenly, the battlefield itself became a field of subzero temperatures and extreme gravitational pressure—the anaerobic zone had not changed. In fact, it was larger than he’d initially realized. The flames on the arrow tips did cross into an anaerobic space, but the sudden, deepening chill told him Lucifero couldn’t mold that manipulation to fit something as specific as an arrow. It was a manipulation of density—colder air equaled less-energetic oxygen molecules. He couldn’t manipulate air or gravity without first affecting the density of the air.

“So that’s why the air is still shimmering, even though the flames went out. That whole pocket is already filled with heat. The oxygen molecules still left are so highly energetic because they’re trapped within a small space, relative to the rest of the world. They’re just bouncing around in there.”

Lucifero’s face was plastered with a smug smile, not knowing he’d given Brendan the answer to an earlier question—the approximate spatial area of his abilities. Given that the anaerobic zone was still relatively small overall, confined to the space between them, it meant his gravity manipulation abilities weren’t much different from density manipulation. In theory, they were the same thing. The first volley of arrows was only a test to determine the extent of the zone’s influence—it also acted as a learning moment: heat transference.

“He lowered the temperature to reduce the friction between molecules so I can’t use their heat as efficiently. But the anaerobic zone still isn’t that terribly large,” Brendan theorized.

He allowed the arrows to hit the ground, their blackened tips buried in the snow at a one-hundred-degree angle, the current orientation of the nightmare’s world. Judging by where they landed, he estimated the anaerobic zone extended approximately seven yards, or twenty-one feet, between him and Lucifero. Moreover, the rate at which they fell was quick, another indicator as to the zone’s size. With that estimation, there was only one way his arrows could reach the devil. He needed space, more heat… and a chance to see how Lucifero would react to what would look like his retreat.

He superheated the air around him, expanding the atmosphere by lowering the density of the air itself. Lucifero would have had no idea what he was doing if it weren’t for the melting snow beneath his feet and shimmer of the air… and that set him into motion. Perfect. Regardless of whether he was a devil or not, gravity affected everything as did atmospheric density. It became clear this was the opening his flames had created and that Mana had also influenced. Luckily, it had given her time to charge enough mana for one more attack. She’d remained hidden behind Brendan up until he began to heat the air, using its shimmer to mask her movements as she boxed him in from behind. They’d pinned him inside the anaerobic zone.

Mana moved first, guiding the chaos butterflies from earlier into formation around him. Any disruption in the gravitational field would mean a change in density. Each flap of their wings further disturbed the expanding low-density field Brendan had created with his heat; at the same time, only the immediate gravity around Lucifero had been manipulated, increasing the weight of the atmosphere around him specifically. It was like a film of air; he’d never feel it, allowing for a subtle, yet powerful, ability.

“Heat manipulation means more than just removing the friction between two objects or setting something on fire,” Brendan explained as the increasing gravity suddenly forced Lucifero to the ground. He dropped like a literal rock. “If I subtract the heat, like you did, the air becomes denser and with the increase in gravity, those oxygen molecules are pulled closer to the ground, to you.”

“I manipulate gravity! You’ll have to do better than that!” the devil sneered, struggling against the added weight of the air.

“I already did,” Mana said. Her voice was tired, but it had grown stronger. She would have to thank Brendan for staving off the poison, for the moment, later… if she made it to whenever later was. “Because you’re trapped in an anaerobic zone, and the only oxygen within that zone at all is from the thermal expansion Brendan created, and the heat his arrows added, my chaos butterflies were able to increase the weight of the air itself. But only around you.”

She watched curiously as Lucifero rotated his hand one-hundred-and-eighty degrees before drawing it back towards his body… but nothing happened. She’d watched him perform a similar motion earlier, when the world turned on its side. Now she understood that was how he anchored himself to the ground and manipulated vectors.

“Also, I hate to tell you this, but I only manipulated the weight of the air around you like a film. I’m technically not altering gravity. Therefore, you can’t undo what we’ve already done,” Brendan said bluntly.

“I figured it out after the expansion,” Mana followed-up, taking a moment to catch her breath. “Your shadows only move in specific vectors. They never slithered like Kuria’s nor did they change shape. Why? Because you manipulate the gravity on the outside of the shadow which forces them into rigid shapes, but you also gave it away when you used gravity to refract the light around your shadows which made them look like they slithered… to Lacia.” She pressed her hand to her head, trying to temper a fresh headache. “After you pinned me down, and I knocked you away, that final collision in energy created the chaos butterflies you now see. Small changes lead to bigger changes later. It’s thanks to you they were born. Small changes equaled the warped dimensions. Big changes equaled the flapping of the butterflies’ wings.”

“And to add on to that,” Brendan joined, “from Lacia’s account of her initial encounter with you here… At first, we all thought you had flung her down that hallway in a fluid motion, like throwing a ball.” He motioned with his wrist, flexing it back and forth. “But that’s not how you threw her. Aria never thought to mention it because she was so hyper-focused on destroying you.” He chuckled. “So, after Lacia told us the story of how the shadow tentacles basically sprung her into the wall, I got to thinking about why that might be.”

“It was a long shot,” Mana said, “but that’s why I told her to go finish her business and why she let Brendan into her nightmare. Thermodynamics aren’t our forte, but they are Rei’s, and with all of that knowledge, it made us the perfect duo for this fight.”

“With his physics knowledge and my own thermal abilities, we crafted a couple theories that could only be tested here, with you.” Brendan said, folding his hands behind his head. “And now that you’re trapped within a super-confined space, the only thing left to do is return you to the nothing from whence you came.” He landed on his feet as the world returned to its proper orientation.

Lucifero’s powers no longer had any influence on the nightmare as he planted his hands into the muddy snowmelt. It took everything he had to keep from faceplanting into the cold mud; it would have been a humiliating moment for something so full of itself, a devil. It was something Brendan wished he could see, but the longer the fight dragged on, the sooner the poison in Mana’s veins would begin flowing again. It was time to bring the fight to an end.

“We trapped you inside your own “anaerobic” zone,” Mana air-quoted, “because we knew how your gravity manipulation worked. Where there was less air, there was less gravity. When Brendan expanded the thermal radius of the air around him, he purposefully extended it towards you,” she revealed, granting Lucifero the blessing of knowledge to his own self-inflicted demise. “Once you noticed or felt the increased thermal gradient in the air, you would move to attack Brendan and that is when the chaos butterflies I created from my earlier attack came into play.”

Lucifero growled angrily. “So a lapse in judgement, huh?”

“The butterflies took advantage of your own gravity manipulations and used them against you. You knew fire needed oxygen to burn, so you assumed Brendan’s only attacks were fire and heat-based, and you would be right. Just one problem, though.”

“I applied the air particles directly to your body using Mana’s chaos butterflies, trapping them. Applying them? Basically, I only manipulated the air that made contact with your body itself.” Brendan struck a dramatic thinking pose, taunting Lucifero. “You’re not as smart as you thought you were. And now, with the increased weight of the air, those oxygen molecules have become immensely heavy. You know what else needs oxygen to ignite?” He mouthed out the letters. “Lightning.”

“Your zone was never really anaerobic, though,” Mana said. Her speech began to slow. “If there was no oxygen… you would have found yourself unable to move as easily as you did in said zone.” She took a moment to catch her breath again. “My chaos butterflies created an environment where the rules of the universe don’t apply. We did whatever we wanted. Perhaps… we played God.”

“Not so smart, Mr. Devil,” Brendan tsked.

Static electricity filled the air. Brendan’s thermal expansion had done more than just weigh Lucifero down—it had also generated positive and negative charges in the atmosphere due to the rapid change in temperature, from near absolute zero back to just below the freezing point. Warmer air rose higher into the atmosphere as the remaining cold air sank, closer to the ground. The separation of charges had generated a powerful thunderstorm—and a highly electrically-charged atmosphere.

“We were able to make whatever rules we want and use whatever current rules the universe should follow. Just depends on the situation,” he shrugged. “I’ll admit, you really did yourself in on this one, and this nightmare gave us the medium we needed to, technically, ignore the current set of rules.”

Thunder rumbled overhead as snow turned to rain in the still-warming air. “Before I turn you to ashes, is there anything you’d like to say? I’m a merciful person. I’ll make your end faster than the bolt I’m about to strike you with.” Mana placed one hand on her hip; her face lacked any semblance of sympathy. “I hate that Lacia— Elyra won’t be here to see us get vengeance for her, but she’ll love the story of your final end.”

“Last words… Something you humans seem obsessed with.” The devil’s words dripped with malice and loathing. “Ride that win, girl, because it will be what gets you killed!”

“Then it seems hell is empty and all the devils are here…” Purple electricity sparked at Mana’s fingertips. “This thing of darkness lingers in my heart, and I acknowledge that it’s mine but, tonight, I abolish that darkness and with it… you.”

“Hell was never full!” Lucifero shouted. “You don’t know half of what you’ve unlea—”

A shower of purple and green lightning struck Lucifero, its radius rapidly expanding as it lashed the devil with hellish fury; it was as if the lightning itself had emulated Mana’s own unrelenting emotions. She’d never show it, but her apathy for the devils had grown into a blistering revulsion so severe that not even the ensuing crack of thunder could drown out her frustrated screams. Bolt after bolt struck the ground; the mud boiled, evaporated, then vaporized instantly. The clouds became emerald and amethyst hues that resembled the lightning that roiled inside their cores, illuminating the darkness as the world became blanketed in the same verdant and purplish hues.

Her fury burned hotter than the lightning itself, drowning her mind in spirals of fear, loathing, and regret. She was always the level-headed one, never batting an eye when strange things happened—massive earthquakes and tsunamis, encountering new people, strange devil-made dimensions, reunions… Someone had to be strong for everyone else, even if she’d found herself at death’s door more than once. Every new event, new change in the group’s plans, only added to the pent-up emotions she’d been facing in secret, a minefield in her mind.

She loathed emotional outbursts, such as her fit in the hotel the night she, Brendan, and Rei arrived in Seria. That wasn’t her—she didn’t throw tantrums, have fits, or let emotions control her tongue. It would ruin the graceful repose she’d always commanded, the one with logical thought instead of reckless abandon, like Lacia and Aria that night at the Gila Border Gate. But that only made it worse—she told everyone else to confide their problems in her, Lacia especially. Not once did she let someone else offer her a shoulder to lean on, and she finally realized—in the flashes of lightning strikes and searing heat—that all she ever had to do was just… ask.

She regretted bottling everything up, never asking for help when she needed it most. When she assumed the title of Grandeur, from her own mother no less, a new burden had been placed upon her shoulders. She was responsible not only for Lacia and Millee, but for the surveillance of both Earth and Chiipha as well as the Erill Gate—the latter still had to be addressed.

With Lucifero finally gone, she felt like she could breathe again. That was one less threat, one less problem to deal with, and one less weight off her shoulders. Her screams became cathartic reflections of the emotions she had been drowning in; she would reach for the surface only to be dragged deeper by the hands of regret that held her back, kept her from the emotional purge her mind needed before it eventually broke. He’d never know it, but Brendan turned her windows into doors, something she could finally open, and she didn’t want to lose that. She never claimed the corners of her mind were tame; in fact, they were ugly, full of self-loathing, doubt, and unsteady steps that led to even darker corners. But she refused to admit that death should have been written in her stars. Every time she bit her tongue, because she allowed herself to venture into those corners, the taste of blood reminded her of who she was—a friend… an anchor.

Her connection to Millee told her the fight with Kuria was nearing its conclusion as well; her connection with Lacia told her she was nearing the final moment of clarity she needed to fully understand herself; her connection to the memories of every other Grandeur told her what still needed to be done to prevent Nertiia’s reawakening.

She slammed one final, mountain-sized bolt into the ground where Lucifero had been, now just scorched earth, as purple lightning scattered like thousands of tiny, electric caterpillars. Green bolts roiled in the upper clouds, adding an ominous, green hue to the air. Green… Like the jealousy she wished the emerald bolts would burn away from her… like the growth she hoped this fight would spur in her and the life she wanted to keep living. Purple… Like the sacrifice she was willing to make if it meant saving her friends… like the newly inherited power of the Grandeur she hoped she could keep them safe with.

It was the duality of relief she’d been waiting more than two years for. Green and purple lightning—the colors were more than just the result of atmospheric phenomena. Green and purple were the new colors on her painter’s canvas. The colors that gave the grass verdant life and stability… the colors that turned the sunsets into royal displays of enamored emotion. Victory meant exposing these vulnerabilities and more, but… it felt better than anything she could have ever imagined. Strangely, the catharsis felt better than she could have imagined.

“That’s right. I am the tempest.”

She blacked out.