1.11 – The Mote

Whatever had halted her descent must have stopped, as Mistral felt herself slip into the void again.

Regardless, she was beyond caring at this point. The only option she felt she had was to lose herself in herself—a meditation so deep that even Black Angel couldn’t reach her. The villain could do as she wished with her body, but her mind would be safe. If Great Manitou would not answer her prayers, she would take her life into her own hands.

But here, in this meditative state, Mistral had also distanced herself from her ego. The thick, swirling tar pit around her became a sort of mirror, a place for her to reflect on her thoughts more clearly.

You can’t do what needs to be done unless you rise beyond yourself. Pray to me no further. Your deliverance depends solely on yourself alone… But I will offer you this truth: there’s yet a glimmer of hope.

Mistral replayed Great Manitou’s last messages, one by one, softly playing them in her mind.

… break your…!

Blinking, so to speak, Mistral was taken aback. Great Manitou hadn’t said that—

She has violated your corporeal body, Daughter. She has trod upon your pride. Leave these things behind.

No, her god and mother had said that in the end.

Leave these things behind.

“But who are we without pride?” Mistral asked herself philosophically. “Who am I without my sense of self? Why is it a problem to have some damned self-confidence? WHY?! What did you mean?!”

I swear to —-, I’ll find —— to break these ——

———

“‘Stupid’... That’s more something Garou would say than Mother when really pissed off,” Mistral murmured with a faint, hollow laugh. The sound was brittle, a desperate echo of her old self. “Now I torture myself with the voice of my oldest friend and mentor. He can’t find me wherever she’s squirreled me away. It’s impossible to hope for after it’s been so long.”

You’re not alone, dammit. Leave these things behind. You hear me? There’s yet a glimmer of hope. You’re never alone.

Mistral froze as the words resounded within her mind. Garou’s voice—clear, fierce, and unyielding—clashed with the haze of despair surrounding her. Her breath hitched as tears welled up, unbidden, spilling over as the weight of everything threatened to consume her again.

She took a trembling breath, the sob breaking free as her voice cracked in anguish. “Where… where is this hope supposed to be found?” Great Manitou’s words—so wise, so divine—now seemed muddled, tangled with the raw, familiar tones of another. What was this other voice? Was it real? Or had her mind finally unraveled entirely?

Her thoughts spiraled as she clawed desperately within herself, reaching for something—anything—to cling to. She fumbled in the void for a spark, for even a flicker of that supposed hope. Her chest heaved as she whispered through clenched teeth, “Where’s my deliverance?”

But the answer she knew. Deep down, she always had. No one who had violated her so utterly, so irreparably, could possibly harbor even a single mote of goodness. Not someone like her.

And yet, there she was, floating in the whirlpool of despair, trapped in the storm of her own inky darkness. The eye of the storm swallowed her whole, yet she kept gazing into the abyss she had cast herself into.

“Where is this? Is this darkness swirling around me… is it mine, or hers?” Her voice trembled, a whisper caught in the void. “I thought it was my despair—some darkness that roosted inside me, consuming me. And yet… somehow…” She stopped, a realization cutting through her. “Wait! She wouldn’t show me this.”

Her words barely left her lips before she saw it.

It lay there, faint yet undeniable.

As if in defiance of her doubt, she beheld a twinkling light—a distant star, fragile and barely perceptible, like a memory teetering on the edge of forgetting. It flickered, uncertain, almost invisible, but as she stared, it grew. The light pulsed, each glimmer sharper, its call growing louder, insistent.

Was this the ray of hope Great Manitou had spoken of?

Mistral’s chest tightened. She felt it—the pull. Once again, she descended deeper, against her will but with fierce determination. She knew, somehow, she couldn’t sink further without breaking apart entirely, but she had to try. If she didn’t, there would be nothing left to fight for.

The light beckoned, and she pushed herself toward it. It took everything she had left, every fractured piece of herself. The moment she saw that glimmering beacon, she knew she had reached as far as she could without conscious effort. Before now, she had only been sinking—adrift. But now, she swam with purpose, every movement agony, every heartbeat a plea.

Swimming through the fetid morass of corruption that clung to her, Mistral forced herself onward. She fought, struggling harder than she ever had before. If she couldn’t reach it—this faint, impossible hope—nothing else would matter. Nothing else ever could.

The star’s glow intensified as she approached. What was once a mere twinkle of white light began to shift, its brilliance deepening into a molten red. It grew larger, towering, and then expanded further until it loomed before her like a red giant star.

As she drew nearer, the light revealed itself not as a sphere, but as a wall—vast and impenetrable, stretching in all directions without curve or end. The dim glow it cast gave no comfort, no warmth, only clarity: she had reached an impasse.

Mistral braced herself, every thread of her essence drawn taut. She thrust herself forward, summoning what remained of her will. Fashioning her strength into a spear, she struck at the wall, prying and clawing for even the faintest hint of an opening. Her mind roared with the effort, and her very soul felt as though it might tear itself apart.

Time stretched unbearably, her every attempt a torment, but she persisted. At last, through sheer determination, she found the smallest cranny, a narrow fissure in the unyielding expanse. She funneled all she had into that tiny crack, forcing herself through.

When she emerged on the other side, she was free-floating, her very being utterly wrung out. Her essence felt stretched thin, like thread unraveling, her soul torn and reshaped by the effort. It was as though she had been spaghettified, her self reduced to the barest fragments.

She floated, suspended in the void, spent and broken but near her goal at last. Whatever awaited her now, she could go no further.

And then, as exhaustion claimed her, Mistral’s consciousness slipped away into the darkness.

———

But then, hands seized Mistral’s battered spirit, flooding her with a fierce surge of energy and hot vitality. The sudden jolt shocked her out of her torpor, the lifeless drift broken as she was dragged into a deeper abyss within the darkness.

Mistral screamed. This was a trap! There was no escape, no relief, no sanctuary here. She thrashed wildly, her essence writhing in a panic as she nearly sank further.

“Nooooooooooooooo!” Her voice rang out in raw despair. She’d been revived against her will, returned to existence as a mere pawn, a plaything for forces beyond her control.

“I’m so sorry… I’ve hurt you so much, Mistral—in unspeakable ways,” came a voice, soft yet heavy with grief. “I can’t take any of it back—no matter what I do—there’s simply no way.”

The words came from nowhere, everywhere, and suddenly Mistral wasn’t alone in the void. A presence lingered, shrouded yet close, a sob woven through the voice like a fragile thread.

“At least,” it continued, trembling, “I could keep myself from finishing it.”

Mistral’s breath caught as she gaped, her senses straining. She couldn’t see anything, couldn’t feel anything apart from the arms that held her. Yet she remained numb, hollow, as if the void had stripped her of more than sensation.

The voice broke through the emptiness again, pained yet pleading. “I’m sorry—for everything I’ve done to everyone in your world… But I must ask you a favor. Take some of my strength with you. Seize the Beasts again, take them back—and then I beg you, strike me down. I can’t hold out any longer.”

Mistral gasped as a realization pierced through the haze. Her lips trembled as she spoke, the words soft yet certain. “You’re the glimmer of hope.”

A pause. Then the voice replied, weary yet tinged with a faint, bitter acceptance. “If you wish to call me such. But there truly is none. I’ve been adrift in this endless void for too long. There’s so much I would say, but the time we have to act is short, Mistral.”

A shadow of urgency crept into the voice, a quiet fire beneath the grief. “I will tell you this: my dark side—she—needs to despoil. To steal the innocence of others, as ours was stolen. It’s a cycle of destruction, of corruption, that cannot be ended. The despair, the hopelessness you feel—those are not wholly your own. They are mine, too. They are hers.”

The voice faltered, breaking under the weight of its own plea. “And so I ask you, Mistral: break your solemn vow. Please… kill me. We’re no common villain like the others you’ve fought. You know this. When I am gone, there will be nothing left to keep this disease from spreading out into your world.”

Garou blinked in surprise when Mistral stirred from her deep slumber. Since the flashlight’s energy was long spent, her reaction was more audible than visible. Even his semi-canine eyes couldn’t gather enough light in this light-forsaken underground bunker.

He gaped, his howling shifting from desperate wails to notes of exultant joy. Without thinking, he awkwardly embraced her.

When it seemed like Mistral had fully come around, Garou cleared his sore throat, speaking softly but with a raw urgency. “I see you’re still with me, partner. I’ve been on her trail since the moment she took you. But with the Beasts’ power in her hands, she became too powerful for me to challenge alone. Only now, with her gone, did I find a window to rescue you.”

Mistral’s eyes twitched before snapping open wide. Not that it meant much in the pitch-black surroundings. She moaned weakly and gritted her teeth, feeling the warmth of his fuzzy embrace but unable to see anything—not even the glow of Garou’s eyes, lacking any light.

Though her strength was returning slowly, her voice was barely a whisper. “I’m sorry. I was such a fool, Garou. Not wrong, but still a fool.”

Garou’s mouth fell open in astonishment. She couldn’t see it, but his disbelief was palpable. He quickly recovered, shaking his head. “Still can’t admit you’re wrong, I see,” he chuckled. “Well, save this fluff for later, when you’re safe. I can’t free you right now, but I swear—I'll take her life if I can if she comes. I’ll ambush her from the shadows of this hellhole’s darkness and make it my hunting ground—”

“No, not yet, my friend,” Mistral interrupted, her voice gaining strength. “We must first wrest the Beasts from her grip. Leave it to me to finish this.”

“No!” Garou snarled, his voice sharp with frustration. “If you make me leave your side again, I’ll turn away and never return. Your damned pride always blinds you in the end!” He clenched a fist, on the verge of striking her, but he hesitated.

Mistral’s tone was steady, but her words carried an emotion deeper than her voice could convey. “No, this isn’t pride… I have none left,” she said, her voice colder, harder. “But I have a plan. You’re right as usual, Garou. Just… be careful.”

The freezing of Vancouver hadn’t been ongoing for long. Black Angel had arrived and most of that time was spent gloating over her newfound powers and preparing to unleash the hellish storm she’d been brewing, thinking about the perfect way to torment this city’s denizens and level its infrastructure. But before she could fully release her chaos, a sudden, sharp tearing sensation gouged at her very soul. Although the sensation didn’t last long, the tension quickly eased, but something was VERY WRONG.

With a venomous hiss, Black Angel’s eyes widened as she realized she couldn’t fully grasp what was happening.

Mistress! The Beasts hissed in unison. We have heard an unfamiliar voice! It says, ‘Please kill me!’ Hahaha! Their voices merged in a chorus of manic laughter.

Black Angel froze, her teeth grinding. “What kind of drivel are you spouting now?!”

‘PLEASE KILL ME!’ ‘PLEASE KILL ME!’ Hahaha! The Beasts replied again, their mocking laughter echoing.

“That can be arranged, idiots. Even with your powers at my disposal, you’re nothing but an annoyance,” she muttered, eyes narrowing as she glanced back toward her stronghold, far to the southeast. “But still—”

An unfamiliar voice, they said. Or perhaps one long absent, one that hadn’t been heard in a while…

She scowled. “You three will remain silent. Lest I bind you into mind-broken puppets. Yes, let them deal with your nonsense. But first, I need to cut things short here. Something tells me Mistral hasn’t fallen as easily as I’d hoped...”

The temperature that had plummeted to an ominous freezing, returned to the scorching heat of summer, sparing these two cities from their slow, glacial inevitable death.

Wrapping herself in her dark aura, Black Angel shot south along the coastline, her speed increasing with the help of the ocean’s thermals. In no time, she passed over a pair of large cities, each insignificant in its own way. As she sped over the dirtier of the two, a peculiar sensation washed over her for a split second—a disembodied presence, something faint, something there for just a moment beckoned.

With a frown, she pressed on. Probably another fool playing with mystical toys, she thought, dismissing it. Yet, there was something about that presence… enticing.

She cleared the other side of the bay when the sensation returned, lingering for the briefest instant before fading again.

A powerful aura—perhaps this one could host us, Mistress… Rosshossho suggested, its voice crawling through her mind like a whisper from the abyss.

“Zip it, spiritling,” Black Angel hissed. Though she wasn’t fully serious before, the presence intrigued her. A delectable flavor that calls to me… Something to keep in mind for later, perhaps. But there was no time to waste.

“It’s time to take a shortcut.”

With that, Black Angel opened a singularity in front of her, plunging into it with an explosion of darkness, which immediately dissipated, leaving no trace behind.

As she’d designed it, the singularity deposited Black Angel just minutes away from her secret base near the Mexican border. This proximity offered her a moment of reflection as she flew toward her lair.

If only the point-to-point spell had a shorter cooldown or wasn’t so horrendously inefficient over vast distances, she would have gladly made it her primary mode of travel. But those constraints remained—made even more restrictive under the searing, smug light of that accursed ball of flaming gas glaring down from the heavens.

In contrast, the utter darkness within her base was blissful. It was here, free from even the faintest interference of sunlight, that her thoughts crystallized. The deposits of rare ores embedded in the surrounding cavern walls shielded her from solar interference, granting her unparalleled clarity.

This world might be plagued by light half the time, she mused, but its darkness runs deep—and within those depths, the tools to destroy anyone who opposes me will reveal themselves.

Some Sentinels might prove pesky, but none vexed her as much as Vanguard. Even the thought of him sent her into a simmering rage. His existence alone was offensive—fast, strong, and unreasonably righteous, a pure affront to her. No magic coursed through him to challenge her craft, no darkness to entice her. He was everything she despised in one intolerable package. For now, she had been studiously avoiding him, preferring to bide her time.

Mistral, though? The so-called Weather Witch was different. She had been the most worthy foe among the “metas” this planet could muster. Had been. Now, she was a broken plaything. Although Vanguard might be a thorned club, Mistral had once been a blade—and Black Angel herself had dulled it.

She chuckled darkly as her lair came into view, the jagged entrance to her cavernous stronghold yawning wide. Black Angel glided through effortlessly, her wings brushing the rock walls as she descended. Her steps quickened as she made her way to the chamber that housed Mistral.

Everything appeared in order. Too in order. And that, in itself, was a warning. Black Angel had never been wrong about her instincts.

The room that held her prize was sealed with layers of enchantments, save for a few lamps she had left burning for dramatic effect. No light accompanied her into the chamber as she breached its seals.

Mistral was exactly where she should be, suspended in the air, shackled by Black Angel’s magic. The sight brought a wicked grin to her lips.

Somehow, the wretch had found peace in her captivity. Mistral’s calm, almost serene expression sparked an irrational rage in her captor. How can she sleep after all we’ve been through? She mocks me, even now.

The urge to toy with her rose unbidden. Mistral would answer for the invasion Black Angel had felt earlier—and she would answer in agony.

Approaching gracefully, Black Angel tilted Mistral’s chin up, a slow, deliberate motion to wake her with a kiss that would drain her very soul. As their faces drew close, her lips curled into a cruel smile. This would mark the beginning of another grueling session of punishment—Black Angel’s tension would soon be relieved, her questions answered, and her dominion over Mistral reasserted.

Her lips met Mistral’s, but the instant she did, the tormentor recoiled. Light erupted from Mistral’s eyes, a blinding, searing brilliance that tore at Black Angel’s essence.

The villain screamed, staggering backward. “IMPOSSIBLE!” she shrieked, clutching her face as the light burned her. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? HOW?!”

“You borrowed my power,” Mistral growled, her voice dripping with fury as she broke free of the magical stocks holding her. “Now have a taste of your own lost power, bitch!”

Black Angel’s screams filled the cavern as Mistral stood tall, radiant and vengeful, the light pouring from her eyes searing away the darkness that had once imprisoned her.

Mistral felt Black Angel’s presence the moment she returned. It was like a faint, tenuous thread that had connected them was suddenly pulled taut, thrumming with energy as the distance between them diminished. Power surged within her, crackling through her veins now that the villain was near.

The borrowed strength—the essence Mistral had somehow siphoned from Black Angel—shattered the bonds holding her. Light blazed from her eyes, flooding the chamber and pinning her tormentor in place. Mistral could barely make out the villain’s expression through the radiant torrent, but as she staggered toward Black Angel’s silhouette, she could imagine the dawning terror etched across her face.

Black Angel’s instincts took over. She turned sharply, shrieking, and made a desperate bid to escape. Even weakened, battered, and still trembling from her ordeal, Mistral advanced with purpose. Her movements were shaky, her steps uneven, but the sight of her approach was enough to send the dark mistress fleeing.

But Black Angel’s flight was short-lived.

Out of the shadows, a pair of powerful arms encircled her, locking her in a crushing embrace. She screamed as sharp teeth sank into her neck, pain flaring like white-hot iron.

“YOUR FUCKING DOG!?” Black Angel roared, thrashing as Garou’s jaws clamped tighter. “YOU DARE SNAP AT YOUR BETTERS? I WILL KILL YOU!”

Her fists hammered against Garou’s head, but her strength faltered as a wave of fatigue washed over her. She staggered, legs buckling, and collapsed to the ground, Garou’s hold unrelenting.

Mistral approached slowly, kneeling beside them as Black Angel writhed and snarled in futility. The light streaming from her eyes flickered faintly, but her gaze remained cold and resolute.

“No, not today,” Mistral said softly, her voice steady despite her exhaustion. “There’s something you have that I need, and I can’t hold on to this light much longer. But don’t worry—what I’m taking will leave you paid in full for everything you’ve done to me. Now, prepare yourself.”

Black Angel’s protests were cut short as Mistral reached out—not physically, but spiritually. She plunged deep into the villain’s essence, the same way Black Angel had violated hers. Black Angel screamed, her voice ragged and raw, as Mistral began to wrench the Beasts from their sanctuary within her.

The Three howled and hissed, kicking and clawing against the inexorable pull. Their resistance mirrored Black Angel’s own writhing on the floor, but Mistral’s focus did not waver. Her gaze grew colder, her resolve unyielding, as she tore the Beasts free and dragged them back to where they belonged.

Once the Three were securely bound, Mistral did not stop. She reached further into the depths of Black Angel’s being and found the light that had been stolen from her. With a firm, merciless grip, she returned it, shoving it into the hollow Black Angel had tried to fill with darkness.

The villain shrieked, the light burning her from the inside out. It seared her very soul, a raging inferno she could not extinguish.

The process did not take long, but it drained Mistral more than she could have imagined. As the last spark of stolen power returned to its rightful place, she slumped to the floor, utterly spent. Her vision dimmed, her body limp, and the world around her seemed to shrink.

She drifted into unconsciousness, knowing she would need time to recover. But when she awoke, she would act.

Mistral had gained not only strength but clarity. When she was ready, she would rise again—and she would keep her solemn promise.

While Mistral slept, her body limp with exhaustion, Garou stood vigil above the unconscious form of Black Angel. His posture was wary, his ears twitching at every faint sound in the darkness. The wolf-man's eyes, adapted to the gloom, saw nothing amiss. What he failed to notice was the slight tremor that ran through Black Angel’s prone body—the subtle evidence that she was regaining consciousness.

The villainess’s muscles spasmed faintly as they struggled to resist the effects of Garou’s venom, a paralytic agent uniquely present in his saliva. It was this toxin, rather than sheer feral instinct, that prompted Garou to sink his teeth into his prey. Black Angel, however, suppressed the telltale shudders, forcing her body to remain as still as possible. She knew that even blind, Garou would sense any movement.

Her vision, however, was useless. The radiant blast of light unleashed by Mistral had seared more than her soul; it had damaged her innate shadow-sense, leaving her unable to perceive the pitch-black of her lair. Frustration gnawed at her, but she kept it buried, silently assessing her surroundings.

Her eyes flickered toward the faint silhouette of Mistral’s slumped form. Foolishly vulnerable. Then to Garou’s shaggy outline, poised but ignorant.

Their naivety will save me once more, Black Angel mused bitterly.

Fools.

For a moment, a sliver of dark amusement tugged at her thoughts. Could it be that Mistral felt sentimentality for her? Some misplaced attachment to the home they’d shared as enemies? The thought was absurd, yet the Weather Witch’s decision to rest here—despite the threat Black Angel posed—hinted at something deeper.

A wicked smile tugged at Black Angel’s lips, though she kept it hidden.

Despite the damage inflicted upon her by Mistral’s light, despite her body’s seared and weakened state, she had one card left to play. Garou’s overuse of his venom worked in her favor. Unbeknownst to the wolf-man, her body had begun to develop resistance to the paralytic, her spasms a mere inconvenience now.

They’ll regret underestimating me.

Pooling her remaining strength, she reached out—not physically, but spiritually—to the surrounding shadows. Darkness answered her call, thickening around her body, curling like smoke. Garou, alert as he was, did not notice as the shadows began to orbit their master.

Then, with a faint croon that only the dark could hear, she summoned a singularity.

The void ripped open, swallowing Black Angel in an instant, leaving no trace of her but a whispering after-effect.

The aftermath was brutal. The implosion of the void’s closing unleashed a violent shockwave, slamming Garou into the floor with bone-jarring force. He let out a muffled growl as he hit the ground, stunned. Mistral, unconscious, was dragged several feet across the cold floor, her body limp and unresponsive.

When the dust settled, the chamber was silent, save for the faint hum of dissipating energy.

The battle between light and darkness had reached its conclusion—for now. Black Angel had slipped through their grasp, leaving the two heroes crumpled and defenseless in a heap.