Dream 5

"Life is a song - sing it. Life is a game - play it. Life is a challenge - meet it. Life is a dream - realize it. Life is a sacrifice - offer it. Life is love - enjoy it."

-Sai Baba

********

Darkness.

2018 ended in darkness, in terror and in madness.

Some celebrated the New Year in their usual fashion. With friends, family, and a cheer as the clock struck midnight.

They had done it. 

Once more, they had survived another year. Something that was never guaranteed in a world where villains attacked weekly, and disasters happened monthly.

And 2018 had been worse than most.

Natural disasters. Villain attacks. Two regular Endbringer battles. Heartbreak.

It was a long year, yet they were still there.

Others did not celebrate at all.

The New Year was not a reprieve but a continuation of the world's struggle. 

Just another day on a planet where its most powerful heroes were gone, where a blood-borne plague ravished the planet, and a continent-sized dragon and its Family were globally recognized villains. Yet, the world was helpless to stop any of it.

Billions of people had been cured of the Beast plague as they followed the Grace of the Moon into darkness, only to emerge on the other side healed and plague-free. 

Yet the plague was nowhere near eradicated.

It only took one drop in a town's water to reinfect everyone once more. There seemed to be no end to those who craved power, blood, or violence. 

Villains using the blood for their schemes. The power-hungry using it for politics. Those with more curiosity than sense tried to delve into its secrets. Those who chose ignorance, simply refusing to be healed, refusing to believe there was a problem, as they didn't see any effect on their daily life.

A hundred reasons with one result, and the world suffered for it.

Give a human a weapon, and they shall kill their enemies.

Give humanity a weapon, and they shall kill themselves.

Blood and madness were no cause for celebration. 

For many, New Year's Eve was just another dark day.

Yet still, in the darkest of times, there is always joy to be found for those who look for the light.

On that dark and cold New Year's night, a spotlight shining down on a stage was just that light.

In an enormous stadium constructed outside Metropolis, over a hundred and fifty thousand people watched that light with bated breath.

They weren't cold. Magic heated the air around Frost Stadium even as its roof remained open to the winter sky.

They weren't scared. Heroes attended, even in an event hosted by 'villains.'

They weren't alone. Much of humanity watched that light in the darkness with them. Hundreds of millions of people watched that light from their homes worldwide, on television or the internet.

Bathed by that light in the darkness, Priscilla sang the first note of a Nameless Song.

In those first moments, there was no music, just her voice echoing through the night.

She needed no speaker. No microphone. There were no giant screens or bright lights.

Yet everyone heard.

Just a woman singing her heart out.

Then the music came.

Ciara, the Faerie Queen, strummed her harp in accompaniment. Her light was dimmer, a candle to a bonfire, but no less radiant. The spirit's eyes were closed, a serene smile on her face.

Death had been kind to the former villainess.

The bogeyman of the Super world lost herself in the music as her fingers danced across the strings.

Other instruments joined from the dark, their own flickering embers joining the fire to light it brighter and brighter.

The music swelled and fell, lifting the listeners with gentle hands as they lost themselves in its beauty and Priscilla's voice.

There were no lyrics, no catchy tune or captivating beats. 

It was just music. 

It was just a melody that welcomed people without care for views, tastes, language or culture.

It was a home to return to.

It was a safe haven from the beasts outside.

It was a Bonefire in the dark, and all were welcomed in that warm light.

The song did not ignore the dark. 

Melancholy filled those who listened to it. A sense of loss, of grim, bittersweet acknowledgement of the true state of the world.

Yet, it was because it knew the dark that it could embrace the light.

Despite the melancholy, the loss of which Priscilla sang without words, it was but the fall before the rise.

More sweet than bitter, more joy than sadness, more light than dark, yet ignoring neither.

Hope amidst despair.

But nobody could carry hope alone.

Priscillia's voice faded.

Before even an instant of silence could pass, the notes of a violin rose from the darkness.

The player, under no spotlight, continued the melody. 

They carried the burden Priscilla had set down for the moment, a sombre sadness at her loss, yet a determination to not lose the light she represented.

Priscilla was tired, but that was all right. She could rest for the moment. They would continue to reach out as long as she needed.

It was as if it was calling out to Priscilla, to the world, that they were not alone. That though they might not see others, they were there. 

They were together.

A quiet, pleading note. At once, salvation and a curse.

Don't you dare go hollow.

Not a warning or an order.

An expression of care for another in the same circumstances and a reminder for the one saying it to do the same.

So please, friend beyond the dark. Faceless, nameless companion who I will never see and never meet. 

Please.

Don't you dare go hollow.

Priscilla rejoined, not with her voice but with a cello. Her five-meter frame, almost fifteen feet tall, nearly turned the large instrument into a violin of her own.

Not a word was spoken between Priscilla and the hidden player, yet an entire dialogue passed between them. Their instruments and their music told each other all that needed to be said.

They played together, lost in their own world, as their strings hummed with a perfect harmony.

Eventually, the hidden violinist receded back into the dark. Nameless and unknown.

Priscilla took up the vocals once more, her voice lighter and more beautiful than ever, rising high, only to fall silent again. Once more, she was alone.

Ciara's harp continued to strum in that void, in that silence.

And, from the darkness, the Nameless violin returned.

The music trailed softly as, for the final time, Priscilla's cello joined the harp and violin for a last few seconds of bittersweet music.

Then silence.

A heartbeat.

Priscilla, a lone light in the dark, sang once more without music.

The song ended not with a low note or a conclusion but with her voice hanging high. 

Unresolved.

Because there was no end to the dark.

Because there would always be light.

They just had to find it.

********

I rejoined the private booth as the stadium erupted into applause.

A bit delayed, about five seconds after the song was over, but that was to be expected considering how it ended.

I clapped with everyone, smiling widely as Priscilla stood on the now-lit stage with Ciara, Grundy, and the musicians Frost had provided for the concert.

I made a big show of leaning out of the booth, making sure other audience members caught sight of me as the stadium brightened with Medea's magical lights. 

I inwardly smirked as many looked on in surprise at my presence.

Sure, most had rightly assumed I was the unknown musician, but the entire point of the song was that it could be anyone. Even if people strongly suspected who I was, I reinforced the message by leaving that space open for possibilities.

Even if it wasn't the Elden Lord, someone was always out there, in the dark, going through what you were.

Priscilla started her next song, the theatre/stadium lighting up brightly thanks to Medea's magic and a large phantasmal projection of Priscilla hovering in the sky so that even those furthest away could see clearly.

I retook my seat beside Ranni, pulling her closer to watch the show as Priscilla sang in the hours leading to the New Year. 

Melina also cuddled up against me, hair only glowing a soft red despite the touch. She was getting better with her control. Hopefully, we'd have the Beast Plague thoroughly purged in a few months.

"T'was beautiful, Lord Husband," the Goddess of the Chill Moon told me softly. 

Ranni wasn't being particularly emotive, though this was her real body, because of the other occupants of the booth, but one of her hands found mine and squeezed it.

"Thanks, Doll," I smiled down at her and pecked her on the forehead. Her cheeks flushed a darker shade of blue, but she didn't fight it.

"It really was," Frost said with a smile as she stood next to our little loveseat, a tablet in her hands. "What song was that?"

"A Nameless Song," I answered simply, shooting her a questioning look. "You don't know the song list? You funded this whole show."

"I have been remarkably busy," Frost said with a casual shrug of her shoulders. "Not only in getting this stadium built in time for tonight, but also organizing the various channels that will broadcast it, the charities for the proceeds, and the public relations regarding promoting it. In the last week, I have been on four talk shows, held two press conferences, and been interviewed six times. I have not seen any rehearsals, nor am I familiar with music."

"Then I'll let you watch the show and enjoy the surprise," I smiled back, pretending I wasn't noticing how she looked at me. 

Still, Frost was working hard for Priscilla's and my sake, and she had been increadibly helpful so far, despite the hiccup last time, so I wasn't above giving her some rewards. 

"Thank you for everything, Emma," I said softly, calling her by her first name for the first time. "And Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year," Frost responded, her smile wider and more genuine. Rather than push for more, as I had half expected, the mutant rejoined her 'bodyguard,' the White Queen, in their own seats.

I got some amused and exasperated looks from the other guests in the booth with us.

"The Boss is too smooth," Victoria 'whispered' to her sister. "You should take notes, Ames."

"I am perfectly happy where I am, thanks," Amelia deadpanned. "I don't need to seduce everything with a pair of breasts on two legs."

"Well said," Artemisia rewarded her date with a kiss that had Amelia grinning foolishly.

"I need a date," Victoria crossed her arms as she pouted.

More than a few of the Amazons perked up, looking at the blonde with appreciative eyes. They weren't the only ones. 

Both Chris and Garfield looked like they were in heaven and hell. They were surrounded by beautiful women. Beautiful, fit women.

Beautiful, fit women who were famous for not liking men.

I didn't bother repressing a grin as I once more caught them staring at one of the Amazons in the booth with us, realize they were doing it, and look away... Only to catch sight of another woman wearing clothes that were appropriate for a very warm climate, millennia without men, and a complete ambivalence to the unfairer sex.

Kudos to the pair; they weren't bothering any of the women, keeping a respectful distance as they sat with the rest of the Titans on the booth's far side.

Whether that was because they didn't think Amazons were the best targets for flirtation, because they were afraid of the women who might be able to bench press their entire headquarters, or because Glynda was with them, I didn't know.

But it was damn funny, no matter the reason.

The other Titans didn't really have the same issues. 

Mini-Raven sat with My-Raven in the far corner, talking in low whispers. Occasionally, Starfire would join them as she flitted between the two goths and her boyfriend. Dick, looking to be back in shape, was talking with Glynda while Hippolyta conversed with Donna, Laura, and Cessily.

The other Amazons were either clumping together, looking around the stadium in wonder, talking with Wonder Woman, who they hadn't seen in a few weeks, or remaining in their seats and enjoying the show. A few were being 'interviewed' by Lois Lane, who could not control the journalist in her when surrounded by such an opportunity.

I had invited the woman personally since there was still no luck finding her husband. Lois had been a bit suspicious, but when Wonder Woman confirmed she would also be there, she had agreed to attend. 

The Boy in Blue had been a pal, on top of being Diana's friend, so I had wanted to check up on his wife and their son. As far as I could tell, her pregnancy was proceeding without issues, and I had ensured they were plague-free.

The 'booth' was pretty big, holding all of us easily, and a late dinner was laid out in the back for those who found themselves hungry. 

Only a few of my wives had joined us tonight, Tsunade and Yoruichi watching from home together, while Pride, Scathach, Artoria, and Diana kept up with the hero and plague duties.

Medea was partially in charge of special effects, while Robin was on security, with aid from the witch's bounded field. We couldn't do anything too extensive, not with this number of guests, but more than a few party crashers needed to be dealt with. 

Either the Lawful-Stupid type, who still tried to pull something because we were 'villains' or the Evil-Stupid type, who were just evil. And stupid.

Ah, well. That would come later. For now, I'd just enjoy the night, the music, and the little surprise I had planned.

I was mainly people-watching, having seen and participated in dozens of Priscilla's rehearsals and having helped her pick out which songs to sing.

In usual circumstances, I don't think my fluffy dragon's first concert would be anywhere near this filled. Not only had Priscilla yet to release a hit song, but she also didn't really focus on music that was popular in the modern world. 

She didn't hate genres like pop, rap, country, or the like, but music was an increadibly subjective experience. What touches one person deeply, others could not connect to at all. 

Priscilla's experience was increadibly different from what everyone else on Earth went through, so her singing about a breakup, money, or fame wouldn't work. 

She simply couldn't connect to music like that, and even if she sang 'popular' songs, she would not be able to put as much emotion into them as she could with those that resonated with her. More than that, she didn't want to sing songs that didn't make her feel anything.

Thankfully, my library had no end of music of all sorts. Every song ever put to paper, leather, papyrus, velum, Microsoft Word, or any other medium could be found there, from ancient Tibetan chants to songs from lost languages to the most obscure YouTube originals. 

When choosing the song list, we largely stuck to those in English, just for the widest understandability. From there, we found those that spoke Priscilla and she wanted to sing. Finally, we made sure the songs were not already in this reality.

Even with all those qualifiers, Priscilla still had a song list that was in the hundreds.

While much of this world lined up similarly to my home in terms of culture, there were obvious gaps. Movies or shows that were never made. Singers or songwriters that died because of a villain or Endbringer attack. Or simply choose another career path for some reason.

For example, this world had Star Wars but no Star Trek. I found it baffling since the latter was a part of the inspiration for the former. Even things like cell phones, partly inspired by the communicator from Star Trek, were still here. 

Instead, they were invented by Reed Richards as a way to communicate with Earth while in space. That tech was dumbed down, reverse-engineered, and sold to the public as the first smartphones.

The differences were both a blessing and a curse since I sometimes made jokes that flew over people's heads. Still, it also gave Priscilla a massive log of songs to choose from that were original since neither of us had any songwriting ability.

Well... there was one exception.

That novelty, as well as Prisicilla's beautiful appearance, internet fame, the rarity of a Super being an entertainer, my own efforts to aid her, and Frost's marketing campaign, ensured that Prisiclla's debut was as grand as possible, despite the lack of pandering to popular genres.

After tonight, all the success or failure would depend on her own efforts.

As we had watched, time ticking by towards the New Year, interspersed with the occasional conversation, I eventually spoke as a particular song neared its end.

"Quiet."

All talking in the booth instantly ceased, all eyes on me as I demanded silence. Most had already been listening to the show, only talking in the breaks and lulls, but I didn't want any interruptions for this next part.

As everyone watched, I pulled Ranni to her feet and forward so we had a better look at the stage.

"My Lord?" Ranni asked curiously, not knowing what was going on.

Even my other wives looked on in curiosity, wondering what I was going to pull now, to say nothing of my other guests.

"Doll. Ranni," I told her, ignoring all the watching gazes. "Words cannot express how much you've helped me. Both... before and now." I shot a look at Melina but turned back to the blue eyes of My Goddess. "Whenever I've needed you, when I've been at my lowest, you've been there for me. I've thanked you, but it's not enough, not for any of you. I know how much using your Order means to you, no matter what you say. So, Priscilla and I set up a little something. As a thanks for your Grace."

Ranni looked like she would argue, likely something about her 'duty to her Lord Husband,' but the music started, so she just gave me a look as she turned to watch Priscilla and her band play.

Whether it was Grundy on the drums, Ciara's more modern guitar, or the rest of the musicians' absolute focus on their instruments, I could tell everyone was giving it their all. This was the one song, baring the opening, that they had practiced the most, knowing that they couldn't afford to mess this up.

Like the Nameless song, the tune was melancholic, but there was definitely a lighter tone to it, despite being even more bittersweet.

Ranni listened, curious but not understanding.

Then Priscilla started to sing once more.

"Even if it's not forever,

We've together tread this path so far.

Wary of the will that made me,

Still you leave your trust within my scars,

Winter born and forged strong,

Searching for centuries long,

Built for a dream like ours."

At first, Ranni's brows furrowed, and I could tell she was trying to piece together why this song would be a gift to her. Still, she must have been forming some ideas. 

The chorus put any thought to the wayside.

"Keep holding on for me, I'll lift you as I break,

Torn to the smallest piece, half-dreaming, half-awake.

Take my conflicted hands, my heart will light your way,

Know me for what I am, half wolf and half afraid."

Blue eyes widened. 

A pair of blue hands covered her mouth while another two held on to the railing for dear life. 

All pretense of decorum and stoicism fled as tears beaded her eyes.

Priscilla sang her heart out, her voice enchanting in its effervescent yearning.

To those who didn't know the truth and didn't know what the song meant, it probably sounded like a love song. 

It was a bittersweet tale from a half-beast who did their best to control their inner monster to help the one they loved. They failed, they gave in to fear, and they ran. They lost themselves. 

The beast won.

But they never forgot, never truly gave in. Even at their lowest, they refused to turn against the one they loved.

So they begged to be remembered, not as the beast they became, but as the person they were before.

A bittersweet tale of love and loss. 

The uninitiated might think Priscilla was the 'half-wolf' due to her nature as a Crossbreed. Or they could think I was if they remembered my interview with Daily Planet and thought of our 'fairy tale' love story. 

Either way, anybody with ears could hear the emotion in the singer's voice. The raw, unadulterated yearning and steadfast loyalty.

It was a good song. Not super catchy or an earworm that got stuck in your head. It probably wouldn't top any charts, relegated to a niche favourite for Priscilla's more dedicated fans, but that's it. 

To those just listening and enjoying the music, it was good but lacked the qualities needed to be one of the greats.

"Keep holding on for me, I'll lift you as I break,

Torn to the smallest piece, half-dreaming, half-awake.

Carry on for the cause, spread light across these shores,

Remember who I was, half-wolf, forever yours."

To those who knew the truth, knew of Ranni's shadow and companion of millennia, the song had a whole different meaning.

To the four of us, Priscilla, Melina, Ranni, and me, the song was one of the greatest we had ever heard. 

Not because of the song but because of the man it represented. 

I hope somewhere, in the vastness of the multiverse, someone else wrote a song similar to this.

Blaidd deserved it.

"Half-wolf, forever yours,

You know I'm not afraid,

Half-wolf, forever yours."

A eulogy for the most loyal of hounds, who, even now, worlds away, stood guard over his master's last and most precious family.

Never before, or since, had I seen such a perfect example of loyalty than Blaidd.

He, a creation of the Greater Will, had defied the Eldritch being who created him out of love for his companion.

"Hold on, it gets better,

It's here at the end, we turn it all around,

Keep faith, I'm still with you,

We all need a friend to watch the world die out."

People like Blaidd reminded me why I had fallen in love with Dark Souls. 

The beauty that could be found in sorrow. 

The companionship amidst suffering.

Even when the world ends, we should never forget those with us.

Priscilla wanted this show, this music, to mean to others what my singing had meant to her in a small painted world so long ago.

And, as the music trailed off, an illusionary moon rose above the illusion of Priscilla in the sky. 

Upon that moon was a shadow.

A half-wolf looking down at the stadium. It crouched in the classic 'Berserk' pose so reminiscent of Artorias, its massive greatsword held in one hand over its shoulder. 

Like I had seen him that first time in Limgrave's forest, he stood watch.

As if, even now, worlds away, the shadow still stood guard over its master.

Ranni openly wept, and my own eyes were moist as we shared a moment of reminiscence about one of the best men I had ever known.

********

That.

That was what she wanted.

That was what she needed.

The most powerful being on the planet, possibly the universe, held the blue Goddess in His arms as she cried.

Those eyes, full of love and unshed tears.

She needed those on her. To look at her like that.

She needed to be one of those Chosen few for whom He would do this. 

She needed to be a woman He would stare down heroes for.

She needed to be a woman He would hunt a demon lord for.

She needed to be a woman for whom He would turn the world into a stage.

All so He could remind her that she was loved. And His.

She needed that Love.

More than power, money, food, water, or air, she needed that Mad Love.

Emma Frost would have that.

"Damn," Glory Girl said lowly in the silence that fell between songs. "I take it back, Ames. No way can you be that smooth."

"...Yeah," Panacea answered just as quietly. Even she was affected by the mood. "Still gay, but damn if he doesn't make even me want to try hardwood over carpet. Just for the benefits." 

Then the healer looked at her date as if afraid her words would make the Amazon jealous.

She needn't have bothered as Artemisia shot her a smirk.

Almost to a woman, every single one of the Amazons looked at the Elden Lord with mixed emotions.

Some of it was admiration, impressed that the closest thing they still had to a god would do something like that for his wives. 

Some of it was surprise. Through their minds, Frost saw that many viewed Mikael with more fear than respect. He had killed their old god, after all. Seeing this side of him was alien, and they were trying to fit the new information with the monster they knew him to be.

Others were already thinking of imitating him. 

Most of the Amazons had lived for centuries and had picked up an instrument or two over that time. Using music to woo a prospective lover was nothing new, but many now realized there were entire genres they hadn't heard before that they could use. 

Artemisia, for example, was planning on asking Mikael and Priscilla for tips on a modern song that would evoke a similar reaction from the healer, as she intended to keep their relationship going in the long term.

A few, however, had more unique reactions.

The priestess, Penelope, just accepted everything readily, mentally praising her new god. Of course, his ability to woo his women would be superior to others. 

For a reason Frost couldn't understand, Penelope also started trying to use musical words to make puns in her mind.

The Amazonian queen... The mutant couldn't really see into her mind well. More than likely, she had developed mental shields of her own during her time as Wonder Woman. All Emma could feel was a deep yearning coming from the woman. Yearning for what, she didn't know.

Nor could she read the younger Raven's mind, but the looks of envy she shot her older self, who looked entirely too smug, were not hard to understand.

Starfire just appreciated the music, Nightwing was trying to parse what the song and image meant, Mercury lost herself in the romance of it, and Beast Boy and Winman were legitimately taking notes.

X-23 was utterly lost, but Frost didn't expect anything different from a wild animal like her.

"Right?" The blonde tart was all smiles and cheer as a new song started, one that brought the mood back up. "I tell you what, I was kind of iffy about the whole 'harem' thing, but it wasn't any of my business, ya know? But I get it now. The Boss is just a sap. Hopeless romantic. Total pushover. I don't think he could reject them if he wanted to."

The brat didn't get it at all.

She was so close to everything Frost wanted and didn't understand anything. Victoria was the luckiest girl on the planet, and she was wasting her opportunity.

Frost had to work her ass off for months just to get a few words of acknowledgement while she talked to Him so easily.

The brat could come and go from Paradise whenever she wanted, but Frost had to infect herself with a plague and fly to some backwater to teleport to the middle of the ocean just so she could touch one of His scales and feel His power.

All because the bitch had a slightly useful sister.

Emma Frost was vindicated when she noticed her 'bodyguard' was just as incensed. Her counterpart's fists were clenched as she glared at the biggest waste of a girl in the world.

There were times when Frost didn't believe her counterpart was really a version of herself. When she did or said something that went against everything Frost valued. It was only in these occasional moments of synchronicity that Frost knew that she and her fellow White Queen were truly one and the same.

Only one was Chosen, and the other wasn't.

Yet.

Emma Frost let out a little exhale, her inner turmoil not showing the least on her face.

Yet. She wasn't Chosen yet.

But she would be.

So long as she was patient and useful, her sincerity would win Him over.

Her counterpart had confided it took years for them to win His attention, and Emma Frost could wait a few years if it meant gaining eternity.

For now, she'd content herself with the occasional trips to His body to be purified by His power.

She'd have that Mad Love if it was the last thing she did.

********

'Are you sure you want to do this?' Sir Bard asked, for the dozenth time, in her mind. 'We can stop them now. Nobody needs to know, and you can finish the show without issue.'

'I wish to be of aid,' Priscilla responded once more once Ciara took up a beat and she had a moment to communicate back.

While she appreciated his concern, Sir Bard was already so burdened, and she wished to take up a part of the burden.

No more would she be the Crossbreed locked away in Ariamis' Painted World.

No more would she remain confined to the Island, a damsel waiting for her family to return.

Even Sir Bard had praised her for this plan as he cautioned against it.

'It just doesn't have to be this way,' he tried to persuade her. 'No need to risk it here.'

'T'was thee who decided not to stream Bloodborne. This is but another way for me to raise awareness.'

Her husband remained silent, and Priscilla knew he wouldn't argue anymore.

She had been meticulous to ensure none of her words were an order, as she wished never to use her power over him if possible. Despite that, his promise to support their dreams still held him firm. 

Even if there were more efficient ways to accomplish a goal, it was the best way for Priscilla to be of use, and this way, they could leverage all the eyes watching her show.

She had no craving for fame, but if fame would help her Family, she'd use it.

The Crossbreed was overwhelmed with gratitude to her Family and her husband for all they had done to support her dream. 

Thanks to them, she could convey a small part of her music to this world, to give them a small taste of the beauty it had brought her when she was at her lowest.

But Priscilla knew that all light needed to be defended.

And for that, they needed more than beauty.

They needed strength.

If she could turn this curse, this blighted existence, into a blade to cut away the dark, Priscilla would.

Her scythe would slay all who dared to harm her new home.

'They're going to attack after the next song,' Lady Robin called through their link.

Priscilla could not answer, focusing on her music and the crowd.

'Not surprised,' Sir Bard sighed. 'It's almost midnight. He's well known for his dramatics. Probably has a speech planned and everything to ring in the new year. Keep Amelia and Victoria here when it starts.'

'With her new modifications, I might have to get rough,' the former pirate cautioned.

'If you have to, do it. But hopefully, she'll calm down once she realizes we've handled it.'

'The heroes?'

'Same deal. Tell them we're handling it, and if they try and struggle, work with Glynda. It shouldn't take too long.'

'... They're here. Ten seconds.'

'For someone who acts so chaotic, he sure is punctual.'

"Will he see my lantern burn on this pitch-black cove tonight?

Will he know my heart beats strong, a beacon of sweet light?

Can he see my frightened eyes?

Can he hear my trembling cries?

And it's only when he's near, will I be right.

And it's only when he's near, will I be right."

Priscilla finished the last lyrics of the song and closed her eyes as Ciara played her out.

Deep breath.

One.

Two.

Fuck it.

Four words she had repeated to herself over a dozen times tonight. Before the first spotlight, every time a song ended, and before a new one began.

"HELLLOOOOO METROPOLIS!!"

A pale blue flower burst from the ground, carrying two figures aloft until they stood even higher than the stage.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" The Joker yelled into a horn, arm waving in greeting and a massive smile on his white face.

Poison Ivy simply shot the clown a disgusted look before turning her glare to the stage.

To Ciara and Priscilla.

Priscilla couldn't lose herself in the music now. Her stage fright needed to be put aside.

Now, she needed to fulfill her purpose.

All around the enormous stadium, colossal flowers burst from the ground. Pale blue and white instead of green, they loomed over a crowd of over a hundred thousand who were just starting to realize they were under attack.

'Huh,' Sir Bard called in their mind. Priscilla didn't know how he could sound so casual. If they did this wrong, people could get hurt. Her people. Her fans. 'Those look like lumen flowers.'

"I hope nobody minds that we invited ourselves," Joker laughed, spinning in a circle and doing a little dance. "You know I can't resist a good shindig."

'She's been to the Island,' Robin asked in surprise.

"Anyone tries anything, and my babies will cover the entire stadium in poison," Poison Ivy, not interested in the theatrics of the purple-suited clown, was direct with her threat. "If I release them, you die. If I don't keep them restrained, you die. If I die, you die. So nobody do anything... stupid."

'Nah,' Sir Bard responded casually. 'They just look like them. Probably because she has so much of the Old Blood in her. The fact that they're white and blue instead of black and red means Ivy leans more towards Insight than Beasthood. Interesting.'

"But the show must go on!" The Joker called, laughing. "I couldn't let something like this go by without a visit. I've always wanted to get into show business. If only Mama Batsy was here. He'd be so proud." The Clown Prince of Crime faked wiping away a tear.

'While I can appreciate your academic interest,' Glynda called out, a note of strain in her voice. 'Holding back Amelia is becoming quite the chore. Please hurry up. Before she does something... drastic.'

Poison Ivy rode a vine down to the stage, even as the Clown stayed on the larger platform above. As she approached, Priscilla got a better look at the knarled and twisted roots, each glowing a pale blue, as they ran below the villainess's skin. 

Like the woman was being puppeted by a tree's roots.

'I'm done,' Robin said. 'The bombs are dealt with, and all their helpers are caught. They're alone now.'

'Priscilla, you ready?'

Deep breath.

She'd succeed.

'Do it.' She turned invisible and pulled her scythe from her bottomless box.

She'd killed one Avatar of the Green before. She could kill another.

'Here we go.'

********

The crowd had panicked when the attack began.

This was the Joker. 

A madman with a body count in the thousands who had managed to evade justice despite his crimes.

He might not have any powers of his own, but everybody considered him a threat.

Schools and hospitals blown up. Rapes and tortures. Heroes, fellow villains, and civilians. All victims of the madman.

Attrocity after attrocity. Disaster after disaster. Murder after murder.

The slaying of New Wave in their home, driving Panacea mad in the process, was but one of countless acts of brutality. 

Its only difference from so many others was the state the villain had been left in, taking years to recover from the myriad of poisons and diseases the biokinetic had grown in his own stomach, relishing in his slow, painful death.

The Red Queen had been stopped before she could kill him, but not before he had reminded everyone of an old card, one that had hung over everyone's heads the entire time he had been alive.

Mutually assured destruction.

From his first appearance, there had been no low the Joker would not stoop to. No crime he would not commit. No act to vile or depraved.

So, when his infamy was at its peak, and heroes and vigilantes alike had hunted for him, he had kidnapped a news broadcast.

Cackling with laughter from atop a pair of corpses, the Joker had welcomed everyone attempting to take him on.

Not because he thought he'd win against a world of super-powered people out for his blood.

But because even if he lost, he'd win in the end.

A deadman's switch. Killing him would unleash a disaster, ending the lives of tens of thousands of people.

The Red Queen hadn't cared about collateral, just her revenge.

But there was a problem.

Nobody knew if it was real.

Certainly, numerous Joker plots have been stopped over the years. Bombs dismantled. Poisons cured. Biological weapons stopped. But nobody was sure if THE plot was stopped. Whether the deadman's switch was still active or not. 

If they, in being the officer to shoot the clown or the vigilante to finally put him down, they would be the victim of an inevitable revenge from beyond the grave.

So, the Joker could only be arrested.

He'd eventually break out again, no matter where he was kept, and then he'd take revenge on whoever put him behind bars.

A vicious cycle with only one winner.

Like his nemesis, the Joker had weaponized fear. A powerless man, with only his mind, unpredictability, and reputation, had become one of the most feared villains in a world of Supers.

It was only because he was obsessed with Batman and his continual residency in Gotham that the rest of the world did not usually have to suffer from the Joker's madness.

But, he did venture out of the cursed city occasionally, and when he did, tragedy would follow his every step.

Like now.

When Poison Ivy approached the Clown Prince of Crime about possibly killing over a hundred thousand people, he leapt at the chance.

He didn't care that the chlorokinetic needed to get rid of a stupid ghost. Nor about the song in the back of his mind egging him on. All he cared about was giving the Elden Lord a black eye.

The Joker would ruin the dragon's little show. 

Killing that singer would be an incredible joke on the bastard who had ruined the Joker's magnum opus.

Even if his victims were brought back to life, nobody would be able to escape the fear in their hearts.

The Joker always had the last laugh.

All the song in the back of his head did was remind him to absorb enough infected blood to drown a whale, but that hardly took more than a day.

It was all so perfect.

The fear in the crowd.

The helplessness of the heroes.

The millions and millions of people watching him from their homes, knowing nowhere was safe.

The only way this could be better was if Batman was here front and center. Ah, well, he'd have to settle for taunting the Bat later.

A joke.

That's what this called for.

A nice joke, one that nobody would ever forget.

"Hey!" The Joker suddenly yelled, making thousands of people jump in fright. "Whoever doing the lights, get working already! You missed my cue! Who do I have to shoot to get some respect around here!"

To prove a point, and because it was funny, the Joker pulled out an enormous pistol and fired it randomly into the crowd. The villain didn't care if it hit anyone; they'd all die soon anyway, but the shouts of surprise and fear were the true music of the night.

Suddenly, the image in the sky shifted from that tall mutant singer to a dazzling portrayal of the Joker's face.

"It's... beautiful," the Joker pantomimed another tear, the face in the sky mirroring his every move.

Ahhh, this was going to be a great year.

His face shifted, a smile stretching to his cheeks.

The Clown Prince of Crime looked down at his helpless victims from above, radiating violence and malevolence.

The crowd shuffled, but nobody screamed.

That wouldn't do. 

Sure, he was supposed to be the 'distraction' for the weedkiller to kill the singer, but everyone knew who the real star of the show was. 

Couldn't have anyone outperforming him, after all.

"What am I missing? What am I missing?" The Joker paced back and forth on the flower platform. All eyes followed him. "My face in lights. A crowd of adoring fans. It's all here, but I am missing something. Something that everybody needs." The Joker froze mid-step, whirled, and, with a cackling laugh, yelled in triumph. "I know! Fireworks!"

In a moment, he pressed the detonator, sending a tenth of the stands into a firey explosion to ring in the new year.

The sound, the blast, and the fire were cataclysmic. Thousands died. Everyone panicked.

The Joker laughed.

He wasn't the only one.

"Pfffftttttt," the snort of amusement, like someone desperately trying to contain a laugh and failing, pulled the Clown Prince of Crime from his enjoyment of the festivities.

Sitting on a flower petal right beside him was a man in an outfit just as garish as his own but without the class.

The Elden Lord was doubled over, hands over his mouth, as he desperately tried to contain his laughter. When he realized the Joker was looking at him, he stopped trying to hide it and opened his mouth to laugh even harder.

The Joker shot him.

The bullet hit his skull and flattened, not even ruffling Mikael's hair.

"You shot me!" Mikael laughed harder, tears of mirth beading his eyes as he rolled around the flower platform. "You actually tried to shoot me! Oh god, I'm dying. I'm dying. Pfffhhahahahahahaha!"

"Ah well," he shrugged, still smiling. "If once is funny, twice is funnier." 

The Joker pressed another detonator.

Another stand erupted in fire.

More screams.

The Elden Lord continued to laugh.

"Oh god, man, you might actually kill me from laughter," the Elden Lord said, still chuckling, as he finally stood.

Then he was right beside the Joker, arm around his shoulder in an almost brotherly way.

"Listen, Joke. Can I call you Joke? Anyway, Joke, listen. I was a bit miffed you crashed my girl's party, but you more than made up for it with your comedy routine. Pure gold, that's what this is. Pure gold. What do you think, folks?"

The illusion dissolved.

No more fire. No more rubble. No more screams.

A hundred and fifty thousand pairs of eyes watched the two men on the flower stem.

And there was no fear in them.

Just confusion and... mirth?

"Imagine," Mikael said with a laugh. "That a feared villain shows up on TV makes a bunch of threats, then starts talking to himself. Pretty scary, right? Now imagine that same scene, but the villain doesn't notice that all his bombs and weapons are gone, that there is no threat, and that Yakety Sax is playing in the background while he pretends to kill people. It starts to be less scary and a bit more weird, doesn't it?"

The Joker tried to say something, to get a word in, but even when he spoke, no sound escaped.

"Then imagine that the only real threat, the poisonous plants, suddenly all die. People are confused, of course, but they start to feel a bit safer. Then the guy that ate an Endbringer shows up."

The villain couldn't move. He tried, but he couldn't move. His very shadow pinned him in place.

"See, Joke? It's juxtaposition comedy. A tiny dog yipping at an elephant. Or, in this case, a clown threatening a dragon. It's hard to be scared of a clown when you remember the dragon is on your side. And the opposite of fear isn't hope but laughter. So, it starts to become funny."

Anything. The Joker tried to do anything at all.

Nothing.

"Look over there, Joke," Mikael turned the man, his own shadow shifting his legs until he faced a particular booth. "If you squint reaaallllyyyy hard, you might see something nice. Or not. I understand. You're an old man. Past your prime. Those old eyes don't work like they used to." 

An image of the booth projected in front of the two men on the flower. Two young women, hands leaning against a railing as they watch them.

Victoria and Amelia Dallon.

Both were smiling.

It was not a kind smile, but they were alive and smiling.

It was proof that the Joker's greatest triumph had ended in failure.

In a voice only the Joker could hear, the Elden Lord whispered in his ear.

"We've had an eye on you for a week now. Took up Gotham duty as a favour from the Bat. Knew you were planning this and had disabled all your little plans, but I didn't bother stopping you from attacking tonight. Do you know why Joke?" 

He was being mocked and laughed at.

But he couldn't laugh.

"Because I thought it would be funny. And I was right."

In a louder voice, Mikael spoke so the entire world could hear him.

"Congratulations Joke. You finally made someone laugh. I'm not laughing with you, of course. You're not funny in the least. You're not even relevant, really. A clown in a suit with delusions of adequacy. Don't you get it?" 

Mikael's smile was one of dark amusement. 

"You are the joke."

Enough tainted blood to drown a city boiled with the Joker.

The beast was unleashed.

Mikael's smile widened.

********

"How the Green has fallen," Ciara sighed in lament as Priscilla released her invisibility.

She didn't call out to Ivy's spirit as she tore her scythe from her back. There was no need. 

Let the tormented woman rest in peace.

'The Green's Free,' Sir Bard called out.

Priscilla sighed in relief as she stored the corpse away.

She had done it.

They finally had it. 

A method to reach this Oppressor.

It had finally overextended, using an Avatar to supplant the Green as it had done to The Metal and The Divided.

But Avatars were also a connection the Family could use.

Once Robin had discovered the infected Ivy planning this attack with the Joker, Ciara had seen an opportunity.

If Sir Bard needed to touch something to free it, and an Avatar embodied a Parliament on the planet, could he not free the Parliament through the Avatar?

And, since the infected Parliaments were in a coalition against the non-infected, could they not also find out who or where this Oppressor was by freeing a previously infected Parliament? They'd still deny their enemy an asset even if it didn't work.

There had been some concern that the villainess wouldn't aid them, so they had decided to Free the Green through her, kill her, and have Tsunade reach out to Parliament instead. That way, they didn't need to fear further betrayal and infection.

Mikael had been all for trying it, ready to go Free Ivy immediately, catch the Joker, and throw him at Amelia to have fun with.

It had been Priscilla who had suggested, insisted really, on this course of action.

It hadn't been any sort of mercy for the villains that had stayed her hand. Instead, she thought they could be more useful to her Family.

Sir Bard lamented that, after the initial burst of waryness, people were taking the Beast Plague for granted. Either dropping their guard, not getting healed as soon as they could, or testing its empowering abilities more and more.

Why not give them a reminder of its threat?

Her only genuine concern had been the safety of her guests, but Medea had been thorough in her defences. Not only had Robin kept an eye on them the whole time, disabling any threat they posed before they could use it, but a bounded field separated the space of the stands from everything else.

Barring the people on the stage, nobody else could have been hurt at all.

Priscilla watched Sir Bard, muttering about 'shitty Arkham boss design,' slay the Joker Beast with a wave of fire.

He had assured her he could excite the Old Blood to cause a transformation on command, though supposedly the opposite was impossible, and the towering beast had been proof enough for everyone watching that the Beast Plague was very much real and still a threat.

With a wave of his hands to dispose of the bodies, the attack was over.

Now, one final plan. This one was all her own.

"Sorry for the interruption, folks," Sir Bard called out, his face projected onto the sky. "Though I hope some of you will sleep a little better tonight now that the trash has been dealt with."

People cheered. Not everyone, of course. Many were still processing what had happened. 

They had gone from a beautiful show to terror at a villain attack, befuddled confusion, a few moments of humour, another rise of fear, and complete safety once more.

It took a moment to process, and Mikael was there to help them along.

"We'll deal with all the testimonies, reports, and all that stuff for you, don't worry. That's the worst part of these types of things. The paperwork. If only villains were less of an inconvenience."

With his every word, aided by his Performance Talent, Siren Song, and his own charisma, Mikael was wooing the crowd back to where he wanted them.

He was turning a villain attack from something scary to an event people would talk about excitedly in their day-to-day lives. 

They weren't in any real danger. The Elden Lord was protecting them, after all.

Instead of causing trauma, the attack would just spur the fame of the concert and Priscilla's career.

It was common for villains to target large events. That's where most people gathered, likely the rich and famous. But now, people would think of Priscilla's shows would almost be a safe haven. After all, the Elden Lord was there, supporting his wife. 

Who'd be crazy enough to try something? 

Did you see what he did to the Joke?

Even if you couldn't see the Elden Lord, he was there.

By the time the crowd was calmed again, the mood high, and all fear gone, it was almost time for the final countdown to the New Year.

Time for Priscilla's last plan of the night, the one nobody knew of but her and Ciara.

"Welp, it's almost time, folks," Mikael said with a chuckle, looking at his wrist as if to check a watch. Of course, he didn't have a watch, but his exaggerated overacting further calmed the crowd. "Despite the interruption, I think we're ready to ring in the New Year. What do you say, dear," Sir Bard looked at Priscilla with a smile. "Ready to sing us one last song?"

After calming the crowd, the Family's plan was for Mikael to hand off the mic to Priscilla. She'd lead everyone through a version of Auld Lang Sign, the traditional New Year's song as she understood it.

Of course, her plan was a little different.

"Why do thee not sing for us instead, Sir Bard?" Mikael's eyebrows rose in surprise, clearly projected on the sky. Priscilla continued before he could argue, still careful not to give an actual order. "I can think of no better welcome to the New Year than thy music."

Priscilla had asked Sir Bard to perform with her before, but he had told her that her first show was to be all about her. He feared that thanks to Siren Song, his literally addictive voice, he'd upstage her. 

She appreciated his consideration, but she cared not for fame. When she had pressed, he had remained firm, though compromised to play an instrument in the opening song and promised a few duets in the next show.

Still, Priscilla had planned this little trick.

Sir Bard's place was not in the shadows but here, in the spotlight.

With her.

That, more than anything, was what this entire show was about. 

From the opening Nameless Song to the tribute to Sir Blaidd to the villains' defeat to this small prank.

Sir Bard did not need to be ashamed of his actions, of the need for his Hunt. 

He need not put up a show for them, his Family. 

They were not so weak that only he could support them, and not they support him.

They needed to come together, not move apart.

They needed to find what joy they could. All of them.

As Ciara had predicted, the crowd started to make noise at the idea.

Sir Bard tried to deflect with humour, as she knew he would.

"But nobody is here for this old bag of bones," Mikael waved her off with false modesty. "They want the pretty girls like you. Crazy whippersnappers, the lot of them."

"Then, shall we let our guests decide?" Priscilla controlled the flush of embarrassment at the compliment to answer back with the line Ciara had instructed her to use. "Who wants to hear the Elden Lord sing?"

The cheer was deafening, clapping and stomping and egging the man on.

"Traitors!" Mikael shook his fist to the sky dramatically. "All of you, traitors!"

Laughter erupted, but the cheering didn't stop.

Even Mikael had to give in, lest he spoil the mood.

"Fiiiiinnnnnneeeee," he heaved a dramatic sigh. The crowd cheered. "But only because it's almost midnight. And I'm not going to sing because you are a bunch of traitors with traitorous traits."

The crowd booed, but Mikael ignored them, flying down to the stage.

"Well played," he whispered to her as he passed. Priscilla smiled, glad she had been able to lighten his mood slightly. Sir Bard always enjoyed it when they got 'uppity,' as he put it. The pushback was half the fun, he claimed. "Of course you know, I will get you back later."

"If you can," Priscilla tried to be haughty like Lady Emma with her rejoinder, but her tail betrayed her once again as it swayed in happiness. 

While she had hoped to hear him sing, this was a good enough result to make her happy. She had feared he'd be cross with her.

Mikael laughed loudly as he approached a piano. The musician hurried to vacate his seat with a bow.

Mikael sat down, cracking his knuckles as he looked around the crowd.

"No, this will not be on the record release. No, I will not tell anyone its name. No, there will not be any encores from me. You traitors asked for it, so you will sit there and enjoy a once-in-a-lifetime experience. If I hear even one word of complaint, I'm cursing all of your shoelaces to get knotted."

There were more laughs and cheers from the crowd, but they started to quiet down.

"Medea, could you dim the lights, please? And give me a timer for the big moment?"

The night darkened once more, the only light in the dark shining down on the man and the piano. 

The musician from before returned with another, carrying a seat for Priscilla. She thanked them gratefully as she sat, reminding herself to thank Lady Frost for her selection of musicians. They had been a delight.

Not wishing to tower over the man and the instrument, Priscilla lay her upper body on top of it while she sat, allowing everyone in the stadium to see the pair.

"We started tonight off with The Nameless Song, so I think it's only appropriate we end it with this one."

Despite his words to the crowd, his eyes were on Priscilla's.

From their positions, him at the keys and her laying atop the instrument, their faces were barely a foot apart. 

Both could see the small numbers hovering in the air between them, but it did not obstruct their view of each other.

There were a few moments of silence as Mikael waited, staring into Priscilla's eyes and smiling.

Then, when the timer was a little over three and a half minutes left, he started to play.

In the dark night, under the eyes of millions of people, Mikael played a song every Souls player held near and dear to their hearts.

If ever there was a call against the fading of the light, it was this.

Not once did Mikael's fingers touch the black keys on the piano as he rang in the New Year, his first since finally joining his Family, with a familiar Pling Pling Plong.

For those three and a half minutes, nothing else existed but a man, a woman, the dark, the light, and a song.

The clock struck midnight as the last note died away.

The crowd cheered.

The two in that lone light heard none of it.

"Happy New Year," Mikael smiled softly as he kissed Priscilla.