"Missiles incoming!"
Celestia's voice pierced through their earpieces—sharp, urgent, demanding immediate action.
"You guys—think of something! Now!"
Pressure mounted. Seconds slipping away.
Absynthe's eyes burned with fear—wide, unblinking.
Her pulse hammered. Her body rigid—frozen in the chaos.
Her mind fractured under the weight of indecision.
What do I do?
Five missiles—screaming through the sky. Obsidion—lost, consumed, drowning in his own corruption.
Which mattered more? Which needed her first?
Ahead, soldiers braced behind protective defenses—weapons trembling in their grip. They didn't know if the barrier would hold.
The roar of the missiles split the air.
Five missiles. Three targets.
Who would it strike first?
Will we make it out alive?
"Five seconds before impact! Do something!"
Celestia's voice shattered the moment—a roar of desperation.
Absynthe's intuition screamed at her, pulling her toward the answer.
Was she right? Could she trust this feeling?
Her heartbeat pounded against the silence—suffocating the moment in indecision.
Hesitate or act?
Breath sharp. Uneven. Fractured with fear.
Her mind locked onto Obsidion's darkened form, twisted beyond recognition.
A nightmare unraveling before her eyes.
Panic clawed at her thoughts—vision blurring at the edges.
Then—
She shook her head.
No.
She squeezed her eyes shut—just for a second— Grasping for control.
Then—a flicker of memory.
Her small group of friends. Blurred, familiar, steady, strong.
A name spoken. A moment resurfacing— Pulling her back.
"Do something!"
Celestia's voice slashed through the spiral, sharp, urgent—piercing through doubt.
The words echoed. Fading. Looping in the depths of her mind.
Her breath hitched—hacked—dragging her back.
Then—she snapped into reality.
Her eyes burned with final belief.
Gravity unraveled, bending, twisting, shifting— Neutralized around her in unseen pulses.
She was weightless—suspended between action and consequence.
Synthena gasped.
Her body lifted suddenly, limbs grasping for stability.
"Whoa—what is this?!"
She twisted mid-air, flailing—not-so-gracefully, her mind racing to process the impossible.
Absynthe's voice cut through the chaos—a command.
"Create a shield. Now!"
Synthena barely had time to react—
Her body spun, head dipping downward, legs hovering above— Upside down, completely off-balance.
"Eek!"
A flicker of realization— Her skirt threatened to betray her dignity.
Startled, she gripped the fabric, holding it in place— Red dust swirling, pulsing with energy.
Her right hand snapped forward, Blue dust burst outward, weaving protective spirals.
She adjusted to Absynthe's gravitational control.
Absynthe never wavered.
She shifted gravity, pulling backward— Repositioning. Securing their escape.
Synthena summoned the shield— A sphere of pure energy, tightening, expanding, solidifying.
Suspended in an unnatural calm.
The missiles collided with Obsidion's engulfing black energy— The impact tore through the corrupted mass.
And then—
A scream.
Not his voice. Something else.
A faint face twisted within the swirling black dust— Its anguish raw, unnatural shrieking from the depths of corruption.
The air shifted—heavy, suffocating, wrong.
Fear bloomed across the battlefield, gripping the Overwatchers in uneasy silence.
Celestia's voice cut through the moment—
"This is only the beginning. I hope you two are ready for what comes next."
Absynthe and Synthena stood frozen, locked onto the nightmarish figure trapped within the black mass.
Anger? No. Fear? No. Confusion...?
Maybe all three.
Synthena tightened her grip, Red and blue dust swirling violently as she held her shield firm.
"We need to think of something—now."
Her voice steady, defiant, despite the turmoil.
Then—the ground trembled.
The corrupted energy grew heavier, denser— Pulsing with something unnatural.
Obsidion's form shifted, The swirling blackness cracking like fractured glass.
Through the thick mist—
Six glowing eyes ignited like embers in the void.
The entity took shape.
Smoke twisted, coiling into an unnatural form. Something unseen. Something unknown. Something that had never existed until now.
Then—
Three dragon heads emerged— Towering. Unrelenting.
Each pair of eyes reflected the fragmented essence buried within Obsidion's corrupted soul.
✅ Red, drooping eyes—Sorrow – The weight of grief, the lingering past clinging to what remained of his consciousness.
✅ Gold, sturdy eyes—Resolve – A fleeting remnant of resilience, the last trace of stability struggling against decay.
✅ Green, terrified eyes—Fear – The undeniable truth—a part of him still resisted, still fought, still knew what he was becoming.
The heads shifted, Expressions flickering between pain, anger— And something deeper.
Something unspoken.
A mighty form.
Was this truly him? Or was he already beyond saving?
****************************************************************************************
"Is that… what I think it is?"
Absynthe's breath hitched as recognition flashed through her mind.
A memory surfaced—familiar, yet distant, tinged with nostalgia and sorrow.
Obsidion sat across from her, gold eyes steady, unwavering, the soft hum of the outdoor ambiance filling the space around them.
They wore their high school uniforms—a time untouched by war and corruption.
A rare era of peace.
Absynthe, quietly focused on her homework, let her gaze drift—her thoughts scattering for just a moment.
Obsidion noticed.
A flicker of curiosity crossed his face, and he asked— A simple, yet unexpected question.
"If you could be anything in the world—an animal or something more—what would you choose?"
His tone was lighthearted, yet beneath it lay a quiet weight.
Absynthe tilted her head, white hair cascading over her shoulders.
"Um… I don't know…? Maybe a cat?"
"A cat?" Obsidion echoed.
"Yeah," she murmured, her blue eyes calm, yet carrying that ever-present sorrow. "They're cute… and they just get to be themselves. No stress, no responsibility… It sounds nice."
For once, she looked peaceful— Her usual tension fading into something softer.
Obsidion's face erupted in red, his breath sharp, uneven.
Was he… flustered?
Did she say something that irritated him?
"W—well," he stammered, his voice faltering, flustered, uneven. "I'd pick a Hydra."
Absynthe blinked.
"A Hydra?"
Obsidion nodded.
"Yeah. A massive, majestic beast. Even though its thoughts are split into three, it still protects what it loves."
His voice carried a conviction that startled her— Something deeper, something personal.
Then—his face twisted in panic.
"N—not like that means anything, kitten—I mean—!"
Kitten?
"Abby!" He corrected, fast. "I mean Abby!"
Before he could spiral further, Synthena and Travis appeared at his side.
"What's going on?" Synthena raised a brow.
"Hopefully not getting up to old antics again," Travis teased, arms crossed, watching Obsidion with the kind of smug amusement only a childhood friend could have.
Obsidion shot up stiffly, his embarrassment shifting into defensive aggression.
"Oh, shut up, Travyy!"
He mocked Travis's childhood nickname, voice dripping with retaliation.
Travis immediately snapped forward, their foreheads clashing in heated argument.
"Heyyy—only Syn can call me that!!"
"Not anymore!" Obsidion shot back, frustration morphing into childish bickering.
Their voices rose, their movements clashed.
For a moment—everything was normal.
A fragment of life before the war. Before the corruption. Before the impossible choices they had to make.
But that was then.
This was now.
And now—
Obsidion was no longer just a boy dreaming of being a Hydra.
He is a Hydra
*****************************************************************************
Absynthe's eyes blazed—hope igniting, bursting like wildfire in the depths of despair.
She threw her voice into the storm, her cry ripping through the battlefield—raw, unshaken, absolute.
"I'm coming, Obsidion!"
Her warcry carved through the collapsing gravity— She and Synthena defied its weight, breaking through the force trying to hold them back.
Side by side, they charged forward— Bodies weightless, determination unyielding.
Absynthe manifested her energy sword—its hum a pulse of raw intensity, glowing, shifting, expanding.
Synthena readied herself, Red and blue dust spiraled at her fingertips—an unstoppable force poised to strike.
They flew together— Movements fluid, synchronized, unstoppable.
A vision of might, victory, and unwavering resolve.