Kor’Thank: Chapter 68

“Hark!”  Wodec pointed with his staff.  Amazingly enough, monsters and barbarians both listened; they stopped fighting so they could gawk at the sky.  “Hope lives on!”

Kora pulled back on the reigns of her raptor, rearing up with it, sword out to the side.  She drank in the fairy-light aurora, the firecracker sparkles igniting and popping.

Peter.  Her smile matched her friend’s as he faced off with Dee.

You magnificent motherfucker.

 

 

Eun worked her thrusters with frantic urgency, interspersing evasive maneuvers with bursts from her cannons or monistic torpedos.  Her hull was dented, chipped, burned…it wouldn’t be long before an engine failed.

And then she saw it:  twists of color, cutting through the nasty-ass fog infesting the aether.  Demonic entities stopped attacking; they turned their attention onto the blooming rays.  Eun’s mouth parted in amazement.  Her face lit with unnamed hues, and her ears filled with indescribable melody.

She’d been battered and assaulted by the highest order of interdimensional craziness, but still—she managed to wish Peter the absolute best.

 

 

Peter brandished his Blazing Sword.  Light purled along its length, peaking in a soul-lifting gleam that sparkled off its tip.  Here, in the deepest heart of conscious existence, his gesture was symbolic.  He wasn’t wielding a real sword, he wasn’t moving a real body, but the meaning behind his actions were true and clear.

[NOOOOOO!!!!]

Dissona experienced a horrific epiphany.  Throughout the eons, throughout eternity, that one word—no—had been the rallying cry around which she’d acted.  But it was really just a temporary blip.  A pause between beats, a bump in the road.  Its only purpose was to make the journey more exciting.

She knew this down to her very core.  But she’d purposefully forgotten, time and again.

Peter felt it through their psycho-empathic link.  He knew he was part of the play—one of countless pieces in a benevolent omnipotence.  At the same time, he was fully in charge, at the leading edge of self-expression.  Atriya had told him the plain, unvarnished truth.

Your belief is a weapon.

He flexed his will.  Once again, the OG Voltron theme boomed and rang.

And he thought:  You’re damn straight it is.