In an instant, the fire was snuffed out, ignored by the wolf-god as if it were nothing but a slight alteration to the office aircon. The flame was far too weak and the fire far too tame. How could she burn when she spent half her time holding it back from friends? She wasn’t that strong; nowhere near.

The feel of Fenrir in her mind, clawing in with a laugh: mocking and fearsome and all the other scary words that described him, was disconcerting to her: but surprisingly ineffective. Perhaps it was her near-comical ignorance of the gravity of the situation or, perhaps more likely, the fact she spent her every moment sharing her mind with a demon. Either way, the effect of Fenrir’s mental assault were dispelled when the guest in Jay-Jay’s head spoke out.

[i]’It’s kind of poetic, really.’[/i] Jay-Jay paused, left confused by the quizzical nature Katago̱gí’s words. It was a good thing that the End-bringer was focused on Henry, because the Fire-demon would have made a soft target.

“What are you even talking about Kata?” Jay-Jay spoke out loud, genuinely annoyed by the words of her demon: so out of place and so out of mind. 

[i]’We face our opposite…Or I do, at least. We are Fire, he is Ice; I am the Origin, he is the end.’[/i]

“How is that useful in anyway right now?” Jay-Jay again ignored the sanctity of inner-thought for spoken tongue. She was practically seething in anger at the demon. How could she ignore the brevity of the situation? This wasn’t the time for philosophy or something: their friends could get hurt or worse if they dawdle. “You aren’t even from the same time period. He’s Norse, you are Greek.”

[i]’His purpose is the end of all things: Greek, Norse, American or otherwise. I have no doubt he would take great pleasure in snuffing us out, were he aware of just what I was: So much so that he might disregard your friends, for a while.’[/i]

Jay-Jay paused, then felt her smile widen. Katago̱gí had always been subtle when it came to stuff like this: teasing out information as a way of making the Host work a bit harder and try a little more. Always attempting to spark the thoughts and ignite the potential.

She needed to work some more magic. Weirder magic, though: not just fire and fury and stuff, but actually difficult, intricate magic: The sort of magic that could cause you to explode if you got it wrong. Jay-Jay got up, taking a few steps back from the Wolf-god, who had his back turned to her and seemed to be focused on somewhere else…or someone el…

The roar of the Wolf-god was drum-bursting-ly loud. The sound was so…hateful and so painful to hear, that she couldn’t help but crumple onto her knees, clutching at her ringing ears. She looked up and saw the full recipient of Fenrir’s rage.

Henry.

The Mage took about half a second to figure out what she was doing was a bad idea; but she didn’t care. Good plans weren’t exactly her forte. 

She flung herself into Henry’s mind, creating a telepathic link between the two. Instantly, it felt like a sea washed over her like an ocean of sludge-like thoughts, crushing her under overwhelming weight. She cut the link instantly and almost gave in completely, in more ways than one. To feel such raw, unaltered emotion was painful: even for only a moment.

Her resolve was shaken, but then she saw Henry seemingly shrink under the weight of the Fenrir. To suffer that alone was…

Jay-Jay gritted her teeth, before re-opening the link with Henry. The floodgates opened again: washing her with every negative image of: death, fear, pain, suffering, chaos, betrayal and every other piece of pain that the wolf-god delightfully inflicted on the Nack. At first it was overwhelming, but the feel of something else was there: something altogether more familiar.

Perhaps this was a twisted version of Henry’s own magic, but it was Henry’s magic none-the-less. The Wolf and the nack were immune to it, for sure: but to a human, the touch of a Siren was still intoxicating in its own way; a strange, sickening, unhealthy intoxication, but an intoxication none-the-less. 

Hard to believe that it was the Siren’s irresistibility that made the torment of Fenris bearable, but suddenly Jay-Jay felt a conviction forming: A dim, lonely spark in the murk, if you will. She felt herself pushing at the murk, trying to spark something that Henry might see, a hint of something other than terror and pain and doom.

Jay-Jay felt something strange, the absence of Katago̱gí was obvious and in truth, a little daunting. To think she was alone in helping her friend through this was frightful and the tiny fragment of something dimmed. 

Self-doubt crept in: Was she in over her head? Had the demon abandoned Jay-Jay on the hopeless task? Would she be able to save Henry?

Then she exhaled, thinking about what her watchers in the wings would say. Oro-Mai would chastise her self-doubt as unfounded or illogical or some other long word. Katago̱gí would just hint at the truth of it all. She wasn’t here because she didn’t need to be, or something like that.

The flicker burnt again, brighter now as that sliver of self-doubt was evaporated by the thoughts of those precious to her. She couldn’t burn much brighter in the over-bearing murk. Just a mere candle light in the dark, dark night: but she burned none-the-less, it was just a faint little glimmer of potential; a tiny spark of something other than Fenrir’s despair. 

She hoped Henry could see it; or feel it; or whatever: Jay-Jay’s little gift. She hoped the wick of it could light Henry’s way, because losing him would make everyone sad. They would keep their friends: their little, dysfunctional family. 

That was all Jay-Jay could Hope for, anyway. She hoped Henry would see it, and she hoped he’d beat back Fenrir, with or without her help.

She hoped so, with all of her everything.