There was no scream in my head. For the moment, for this final batch of attacks, she wasn’t fighting, she was barely trying to defend herself, and she was taking a lot of punishment. To see it, I could imagine the Simurgh had vacated the shell of her body, and this was a Simurgh-shaped statue we were so focused on taking down.

Solarstare’s flames began to glow brighter, shedding motes of light not too different from Byron’s. The motes began to glow brighter, brighter—

Until Grue covered them up, shrouding the Simurgh in darkness.

She chose that moment to move, throwing herself back and away, closer to Sveta, Dinah and I. Closer to the hole.

Dragon, still poised partially in the part of the hole that extended to upper floors, lunged down, driving the full weight of a quadruped mech the size of a house into the Simurgh. The motes of light spilled out, almost rolling as they danced along the floor into the darkness.

I shielded my eyes, twisting my head away, and hooked my good arm around Dinah’s head to shield her as well, just in case.

Grue’s darkness did away with the worst of it, but it was still bright, and the brightness lasted. Even though Dinah and I weren’t touching ground, I could feel the rumble through the air as a whole section of the facility gave way.

I chanced a look, using just one eye, and I saw that the hole in the floor had widened, the fight between Dragon and the Simurgh continuing below.

“Sveta,” I said. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” she told me. “Except maybe don’t use the aura like that again. I almost hurt someone.”

“Okay,” I said, quiet.

“Go fight. I’ll manage,” she said, as she struggled to pull herself together, in what looked like one step forward, one step back, her body pulling itself apart into spaghetti tangles within a second or two of her getting a body part into roughly the right shape. “I’ve managed for a long time.”

I placed Dinah on the ground, then flew.

“No!” Chevalier called out.

The call wasn’t just for me. There were others who were rushing forward, ready to descend for the next stage of the fight. Damsel was one.

I paused, looking back.

“Hold!” he called out, his voice deep, commanding. “Five seconds!”

I remained where I was. My heartbeat pounded, and I felt like it was enough that people would be able to see my pulse at my neck, my vision threatening to go dark like I’d stood up too fast.

Damsel, in her own way, was struggling too. In this, at least, we were somewhat alike. She didn’t want to stop.