But then slowly, slowly, the Black Death pushed back.

Bit by bit. Inch by inch. Matt’s hands started to shake, his eyes watering, his jaw clenched.

-IAMHUMANIAMHUMANIAMHUMANIAMHUMANIAMHUMANIAM-

But his focus was wavering – primal, unstoppable thoughts intruding, the real world, the blood loss, the-

painIAMHUMANpainIAMHUMANIAMHUMANIAMpainHUMANIAMHU-

His legs were broken, the pain from them leaking through, unable to be ignored any longer, red flashing cracks appearing in the green giant’s thighs. The black demon’s razor teeth clenched and its sinews bulged.

-MANpainHUMANIAMHUMANpainIAMHUMANIAMHUMANIpainAM-

“JANE!” he called out, frantic. The monstrous darkness pushed hard and Matt felt himself sliding. He roared and drove forward with everything he had, his mind locked with Heydrich’s, desperate to keep him away from her, desperate to hold him back.

-IAMHUMANIAMHUMANIAMHUMANIAMHUMANIAMpainpainpain-

“JANE!” he cried again, and this time the Black Death managed to break free, momentarily throwing him aside, before Matt once again rose up and charged, holding back the twisting dark.

“JANE!” he cried, shouting through the greyness, through their minds, “YOU HAVE TO GET UP!”

But the girl could only lay there, curled and shaking, the sound of her sobbing echoing in the dark – broken and unreachable, cold and alone.

-IAMpainHUMANpainIAMHUMANpainIAMpainHUMANIAMHUMANpainI-

“JANE!” he begged, “PLEASE!”

And to his horror, the black of Heydrich’s mind split into two – one coiling around Matt, dragging him down, holding back his shrinking, wavering thoughts, the other stalking slowly, back over to the darkened corner, to where remained the last shred of Jane’s soul.

“JANE-!” Matt tried to scream, but his words were cut off by the sinews of smothering darkness, his concentration broken, his strength failing. All he could do was watch, helpless beneath the weight of the Black Death’s abyss, as the demon standing over Jane smiled savagely. Its crimson eyes flickered to Matt.

“Strong,” it whispered, “But not strong enough.”

And for the final time, it raised its sword.

Whoosh

Something hit the Black Death, like a gust of air, a ghost, a spectral figure blasting past him, causing him to flinch, making his head snap around, his eyes wide as-

WhooshWhoosh

Two more, striking on either side, transparent figures appearing from nowhere and brushing past him, making him yelp, more distracted than pained, spinning around and slashing after the spectres, who vanished as quickly as they’d came-

WhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhooshWhoosh

And suddenly there were hundreds. Thousands of transparent figures, men and women and children, emerging from nothing, rising up in a crowd, a mountain around Jane, around the Black Death, around Matt, ghosts of every age and country, every race and religion, a swelling illusory army, striding into their minds. And as the phantoms multiplied, Matt heard them speaking and he saw, connected to them as they were to him, saw through their eyes, saw the incredible truth-

‘Matt the human,’

In schools and offices, libraries and prisons, newsrooms and slums. Groups of dozens, hundreds, gathering around psychics, projecting their collective minds across the world.

‘Lady Dawn,’

Natalia Baroque and the few, bloodied survivors of the Legion. Will, Giselle and Wally, determined and unwavering with every doctor, every patient in the hospital, joined together. Laying on hands.

‘We are with you,’

The President, the politicians in their bunker, gripping each other tight. The whole of Northridge High School, assembled in the cafeteria, teachers holding students, friends joining friends. And in the middle of a steaming factory, a group of workmen, standing silently in a circle – each one of their hands reaching out to the man in middle, Jane’s father, his eyes closed.

‘You are not alone.’

On their own, they were nothing. Noise, voices, distractions, weaker than a thought, little more than ghosts. But they were not on their own – they were united, thousands, tens of thousands, rising up, surging forth.

They were Legion.

And as they fell like rain upon Klaus Heydrich, swarming over him, the Black Death screamed and tore at them, every one he destroyed replaced by two more, and the darkness around Matt lifted and the human’s thoughts bellowed a defiant roar. The green giant rose and once more slammed into the Black Death, knocking loose his razor teeth, the sea of souls around him drawing away Matt’s pain – and as a hundred, thousand minds moved together to attack, one, alone, ran the other way. A single, dusty man, who flew towards the darkened corner, to the body of the tiny, whimpering girl. Who knelt over his daughter and looked down, tears leaking from his eyes.

“Jane?” he whispered. He reached out his shaking hand to touch her, feeling the hurt, the suffering, the pain, her frail and fragile heart, with all that was broken inside.

“Oh Jane.” And without another word, he took her in his arms.

There was light – blinding, golden light. The Black Death screamed, helpless, overrun-

As Peter Walker’s memories flowed into his daughter’s soul.

A playground. Swings. Laughter. His hands on the small of her back, pushing her, the wind in her hair, flying higher and higher. Gumboots and autumn leaves. Her mother’s face, bending over, lifting her up, holding her close, cradling her head.

A birthday cake. Candles in the dark. A funeral. A deep, shaking sadness – but in the middle a tiny hand, seeking comfort in a bigger one. Instinctual, twin sorrows nesting together for warmth. Together, underneath a blanket, eating microwaved dinners while it rained, watching TV.

I love you

Her face, growing, hardening, changing as she strode, out and through that door a thousand times, into fights, into failure, into hate – but never letting go. Never giving up. The weight, the aftermath of their arguments, anger hanging around his neck – but never at her. At himself. She was everything he couldn’t be. She was perfect. Strong and fierce and… her. Every day, more like her. The light, flickering late in her room, her head resting on the desk, exhausted from all she had to endure. His beautiful girl, his young woman. He stands there for a moment watching and then he turns off the light – his hands underneath her legs, lifting, carrying her the few feet to her bed. She mumbles, nods her head against his chest. She never remembers. She barely stirs and he never tells her. Never says what he needed to say, what he should have been telling her, every single day.

I am so proud of you

Her face on the news, fierce and lean. Sitting there on Thanksgiving, hard and defiant, a proud warrior, her eyes only for him, not seeing the eyes only on her. The pride at seeing her stand there in the front rows of the Legion. The terror at watching her fight. And the awe as she returned, as she fought to save her friend, glowing with golden strength – but still afraid. So heart-breakingly afraid that something would happen to her. That she’d be hurt. Not seeing the costume, the goddess – just seeing his little girl. Alone and fighting. Perfect and flawed.

Now get up

Jane’s eyes flew open.

In her mind, and in the world, she rose – eyes burning with sunlight, tears streaming down her cheeks. The woman in white and gold, cape falling out behind her, her cheek ablaze with day. Whole, unbroken. Rising slowly, a being of light. Reborn, to bear the weight of the world.

Lady Dawn.

The Black Death screamed in terror and his mind pulled free from hers. His hands clenched inwards, his flesh writhing with hissing energy, unnatural violet which spread throughout him with a sickening glow. Even in his weakened state, even as the blood of the human coursed through his veins, pulling him down, still he would do it. He would destroy the world, if he himself was to be destroyed.

But he would destroy nothing.

And as the clouds parted, as the sun streamed through her veins, Jane Walker pulled her hands together; and with a single step forward, before the man named Klaus Heydrich could harm another soul, and with a hoarse, strangled cry, she unleashed the power of Dawn.

There was a blinding, billowing, all-encompassing light-

And the Black Death was no more.

*

The room erupted. A dozen men, shouting and clapping, sinking wearily into their chairs. The President of the United States let out a deep, shaking breath, cupped his mouth in his hands and closed his eyes.

The hospital shrieked. Manically, ecstatically, powers erupting everywhere, people crying, kissing, Giselle punching the air so hard she tore her skin grafts.

The news station cheered. The cameraman practically toppled over as tears streamed from one anchor’s eyes, while the other ran his hands through his hair and swore, loudly and profusely, live on national television.

All around the world, people laughed and cried, shook their heads and thanked their gods, hugged one another and swore from this day forth to live every day of their lives.

And alone in the desert, blood streaming from his legs into pools of crimson dirt, Matt Callaghan’s eyes rolled up into his head. And he collapsed without a sound.

*****

The world was blinding – light and cold and warm. Somewhere in the distance, Matt felt strong arms wrap gently around him, cradling his broken bones.

And then he was flying.

I’m dying, he realised. The angels are carrying me away. His eyelids flickered in the wind and warmth. Rising up into the sunlight.

Finally, finally flying.

It was ok. He could go now. This was the end.

The angel, sunlight streaming through her hair, carried him up.

Matt closed his eyes and drifted away.