“I just got my sight back,” he said. “Mostly. I don’t know why I just lied. I’m half blind.”

“Will you trust me?”

“Will it fuck her up?” he asked.

“I hope so.”

He nodded.

Same thing I’d tried with Torso. My forcefield opened up. I picked up Rain. I pulled him inside the shell of the Fragile One.

When she took off, I flew with. Rain held within, the weight of him pressing against the inside of her.

I was vulnerable, my front pressed against her back, but in fairness, so was he, leaning on me, on us, to this degree.

The Simurgh rose up, toward the hole in the ceiling. I flew us to meet her. The golden beam lanced out beside me, carving out a line in the Simurgh’s leg.

“Blade!” I called out to Rain. I positioned an open mouth at his wrist, letting his hand out, teeth grazing his skin.

He created the blade.

The Simurgh twisted in the air, staring at us with eyes that had nothing to them. One silver eye, and one perfect silver orb in a badly tarnished silver skull framed by wisps of hair.

The ceiling, the wall, and pieces of everything around us pulled away, reoriented so the most ragged, pointed parts were poised toward us.

“Sorry, Rain,” I whispered.

“No,” he said, but his tone was serious, not protesting.

“Can’t back down, can’t retreat.”

“Wouldn’t want to. Fuck her,” Rain said. Beside me, his gaze was focused on her, unflinching.

She’s not a her. She’s not a person, she doesn’t have feelings, and she isn’t fuckable. Not in the way where I can say ‘fuck you’ and find a bit of strength in it.

The Simurgh lunged, but not for the hole in the ceiling. For the floor.

I dove, with enough force that I thought my collarbone would tear free, or that lightheadedness I was feeling might cause me to black out.

The telekinetically poised debris collapsed in on us, barred the way.

I didn’t flinch, didn’t waver.

Someone shot one chunk. Others warped, veering out of the way.

A pillar of black-blue Capricorn stone speared out below us, more a barrier than the chunks it shoved out of the way, then dissipated into motes of light a second later.

We closed the distance, and the blade met the Simurgh’s silver flesh, carving out a shimmering silver line, so close in color that it looked like there was no line at all. From shoulder to back, to hip.

There was a dull rumble as more of our surroundings tore away, ready to smash us, and I decided to make the call. To break away, to say this is enough.