Shadowflame

I kicked at a piece of debris with the toe of my boot, watching it skitter a few feet before giving up. The battlefield was quiet now, which was weird, because my brain wasn't. Voldemort was gone. No more evil plots, no more snake-faced maniac cackling about world domination. Just me, standing in the rubble of what used to be his big plans, thinking, Wow, all that effort for one noseless lunatic. What even is my life?

Moody stomped past me, his wooden leg crunching ominously against the wreckage. "Don't go getting philosophical, Potter," he grunted, his magical eye swiveling to glare at me like I'd done something wrong. "We're not done yet. Those Death Eaters need processing, and we've got to make sure there aren't any... surprises."

Right. Surprises. Because Voldemort wasn't dramatic enough without leaving posthumous booby traps.

I glanced at the glowing green bubble where Narcissa, Draco, and Bellatrix were sitting like misfit action figures in a collector's case. Narcissa was doing her best Ice Queen impression, but the cracks were starting to show. Draco looked like he was five seconds away from throwing up. And Bellatrix? Yeah, she was... creepy. Like, horror-movie-laughing-to-herself-while-staring-at-nothing creepy.

A shiver crawled down my spine. She was supposed to be broken, but broken things can still cut you if you're not careful.

Moody snorted, clearly unimpressed by my concern. "Don't worry about her. She's done. Too far gone to be dangerous now."

I glanced at him, then back at Bellatrix, who was now whispering to something only she could see. "Sure, Moody. Because unstable psychopaths are never a problem."

Green Lantern, who was still holding the bubble together with his glowing ring of space magic, raised an eyebrow. "Relax, kid. She's headed to a secure site. No one's getting out of there."

"Secure site?" I asked, because that definitely didn't sound like Azkaban.

"Black Site," Moody clarified, like that explained everything. "Off the grid. No records, no visitors. They'll disappear, and we'll squeeze every last bit of information out of them before they do."

Okay, that sounded ominous. "Disappear?" I echoed. "That doesn't sound very... legal."

Moody gave me a look. You know, the kind adults give kids when they're too naïve to understand the real world. "Legal? Potter, these are war criminals. You want to give them a comfy prison cell and three square meals? They've earned this."

I wanted to argue. I really did. But then I thought about everything they'd done. The lives they'd destroyed. The people they'd killed. The part of me that had spent the last seven years fighting them wanted to say Moody was right. The part of me that still believed in things like trials and justice wasn't so sure.

"Fine," I said eventually, crossing my arms. "Just make sure they can't escape. I'm not doing this again."

Moody's lips twitched into something that might've been a smile—or a grimace. Hard to tell with him. "Don't worry, Potter. They'll be ghosts before they're a problem."

Oh, great. Ghosts. Because that's what I need—more things to haunt me.

I turned away, my eyes landing on the charred remains of Voldemort's last stand. Relief and emptiness fought for space in my chest. I should've felt victorious. Triumphant. Instead, I just felt... tired. For so long, my life had been about stopping him. Now that it was finally over, I wasn't sure what came next.

"Potter!" Moody's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "You did good today. But don't let it go to your head."

I managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Moody. I'll try to keep my ego in check."

He snorted, waving me off as he and Green Lantern focused on the prisoners. I glanced around the battlefield one last time—at the rubble, the eerie silence, the overwhelming sense of finality—and realized something.

For the first time in forever, I could breathe.

And yet, in the back of my mind, I knew this wasn't really the end. There's always another fight waiting, another challenge to face. But for now, I'd take the win. Even if it came with a side of interrogation chambers and unresolved moral dilemmas.

Because hey, that's just my life. Welcome to the Shadowflame Chronicles. Try the veal, and don't forget to tip your server.

—

I stood in the middle of the battlefield's eerie quiet, staring at the remains of what used to be Voldemort. No Horcruxes left, no looming shadow of doom—just me, standing in the rubble, wondering why it still smelled vaguely like burnt toast.

And then Kara landed next to me, all golden hair and glowing determination like a walking shampoo commercial for superheroes. Kori floated down after her, looking radiant as ever, while Deedee—because subtlety is for mortals—appeared out of a shadowy portal, smirking like she knew all my secrets. Which, to be fair, she probably did.

Kara crossed her arms and glared at me. "Harry, do you know what day it is?"

I blinked at her, my brain still rebooting after the whole "defeat ultimate evil" thing. "Uh… Tuesday?"

Kara let out a groan so epic I'm pretty sure birds a mile away felt personally insulted. "No, Harry. It's Halloween. You know, the day we promised Clark we'd come to the Kent Farm? The festival? The one with costumes and candy?"

"Oh," I said, because words were apparently hard. "Right. Halloween. Totally didn't forget about that." Spoiler: I absolutely did.

Kori clapped her hands like she'd just been told Christmas came early. "The festival of sugar treats and playful disguises! I have eagerly anticipated this Earth ritual. Harry, what form of warrior or mythical beast shall I become?"

"Uh," I said, rubbing my neck. "Depends. Do you want to fit in or make headlines?"

Kori tilted her head, clearly pondering whether "subtle" was even in her vocabulary.

Then Deedee jumped in, tossing her arm around my shoulder and smirking like she'd just hit the jackpot. "Wait—you're going to a farm? For Halloween? That's… adorable. Count me in. I wanna see Harry try to explain why he's got three women fighting for his attention while Smallville's resident golden boy looks on in quiet disappointment."

I groaned. "Thanks, Deedee. Always the hype woman."

"Hey, I call it like I see it," she said, her grin turning wicked. "And if the farm thing gets boring, I'll just find a hayloft and—"

"Deedee!" Kara snapped, her cheeks turning bright pink.

"What? I was going to say nap. Geez, blondie, get your mind out of the gutter," Deedee replied innocently, which, coming from her, was about as convincing as Voldemort applying for a job at a daycare.

Kara sighed and turned back to me. "Can we please just go before Clark starts calling me every ten minutes to ask where we are?"

"Fine," I said, glancing one last time at the smoldering remains of our latest disaster zone. "But if Clark tries to rope me into farm chores, I'm blaming you."

"Oh, don't be such a drama queen," Kara shot back, already hovering a few feet off the ground. "It's just a farm. You'll survive."

"Pretty sure I've already done my character-building for the year," I muttered, but I followed her anyway.

Kori floated beside me, her eyes sparkling. "I hope there will be enough candy for all. Perhaps we should bring extra buckets?"

"That's the spirit," Deedee said, sidling up to her. "If all else fails, you can distract Clark while I grab the good stuff. And by good stuff, I mean whatever's strongest in that farmhouse liquor cabinet."

Kori frowned. "But is it not a tradition to share the bounty of the candy? And why would there be liquors with the treats?"

Deedee smirked. "Stick with me, Kori, and you'll learn so much about Earth traditions."

As we flew off into the night, I couldn't help but shake my head. Halloween at the Kent Farm with this group? It was going to be a circus—and I was the reluctant ringmaster. But hey, after surviving Voldemort, what's a little Smallville drama?

Probably.

—

Flying with fiery wings sounds awesome in theory—like something you'd see on the cover of a fantasy novel. In practice, it's less epic when you've got Deedee hanging off your arms like she's auditioning for The Bachelor: Superhero Edition.

"Carry me, Shadowflame," she'd said with the kind of pout that probably worked on mortals and gods alike. "I'm far too delicate to fly on my own."

Kara nearly fell out of the sky laughing. Kori suggested I make her a "throne of flame" because apparently everything has to sound like it's out of an alien opera. But no, Deedee insisted on the full princess treatment. And now here we were.

"You doing okay up there, Harry?" Superman's voice broke through my inner grumbling. Of course, he was flying beside me, looking like the poster child for "Best Farm Boy in America." Not a speck of dust on him after helping us clean up an entire battlefield.

I adjusted my grip on Deedee, who was smirking like she'd just won the lottery. "Oh, just great. Nothing like a post-battle workout to really cap off the day."

Deedee tilted her head, all innocent-like. "Am I too heavy for you? Maybe you should work on your upper body strength, Shadowflame."

Kara snorted from above. "You know, you could just carry yourself. That is a thing people do."

"But why?" Deedee shot back. "I mean, look at this. We're practically a romance novel cover. Add a dramatic sunset, and it's perfect."

I groaned. "I'm dropping you in a cornfield."

Superman grinned at me like we were in on some secret joke. "You've got your hands full with this group."

"Tell me about it," I muttered, flapping my fire wings just a little harder.

Meanwhile, Kori was buzzing with excitement. "This Halloween is truly an Earth treasure! Costumes, candies, festivities—I cannot wait!" She clapped her hands together, the joy radiating off her brighter than my wings.

"It's a party, not the Olympics," Kara said dryly. "Let's just get there before Clark has to explain why his superhero buddies are causing a UFO scare."

By the time we touched down at the Kent Farm, my arms were screaming at me, but I wasn't about to admit that. Lois Lane was waiting on the porch with Ma and Pa Kent, her expression hovering somewhere between amused and exasperated. Probably how most people feel when we show up anywhere.

"You're late," she said, crossing her arms.

"We had a Dark Lord to handle," Clark replied, straight-faced.

"Uh-huh," Lois said, raising an eyebrow. "And now you're bringing your flaming friend squad to a farm. Great idea."

Deedee hopped out of my arms and stretched like she'd just stepped off a private jet. "Don't worry, Lois. We're all about wholesome, family-friendly vibes." Then, without missing a beat, she winked at me. "Right, Harry?"

"I'm regretting my life choices," I said, brushing soot off my shirt.

Kori beamed. "Thank you for welcoming us! I cannot wait to experience the joys of Halloween!"

Pa Kent chuckled. "Just don't eat all the candy before the trick-or-treaters show up."

"Noted!" Kori said, saluting like she'd just been given an official Earth directive.

Lois fixed me with a sharp look. "No blowing anything up. Got it?"

I raised my hands. "I'll try. But you know this group."

Kara rolled her eyes and started toward the porch. "Come on, Fire Wings. Let's get this over with before Kori volunteers us for pumpkin carving."

As we headed inside, I couldn't help but smile a little. Yeah, it was going to be a weird night. Costumes, candy, and whatever awkward questions Smallville had in store for me.

But hey, after everything we'd just been through, a little farm chaos didn't sound half bad. Probably.

—

You know those awkward family breakfasts where someone drops a bombshell, like "Oh, by the way, we accidentally unleashed a Dark Lord," and everyone just sort of stares at their eggs? Yeah, welcome to my life.

It all started when we shuffled into the Kent farmhouse, our superhero gear safely stashed away. My armor—because, yes, I have magical flaming armor—had already receded into the little black-and-gold amulet hanging around my neck, now with a touch of red for extra pizzazz. Apparently, accessorizing is important when you've just battled the possessed version of your mortal enemy.

Ma Kent, ever the gracious host, greeted us with a smile that could make even Death (a.k.a. Deedee, who was currently lounging at the table like she owned the place) feel warm and fuzzy. She was whipping up pancakes and bacon like this was just another Tuesday. Meanwhile, Pa Kent sat at the head of the table, newspaper in hand, giving us the kind of look that said, You better explain yourselves before I start asking questions.

"Smells amazing, Mrs. Kent," Kara said, grabbing a plate. She was already in post-battle mode: relaxed, cheerful, and clearly pretending we hadn't just fought a literal demon.

"It's nothing fancy," Ma Kent replied, flipping a pancake with the kind of confidence that only comes from decades of farm life. "You kids must be starving."

"Starving, yes," Lois Lane interjected, sitting at the counter with her coffee, "but also very curious. Like, say, about the giant light show we saw last night? Care to explain that?"

"Right, about that," I started, because of course I got nominated to deliver the bad news. "So, remember that Voldemort guy I told you about? Bald, snake-like, has a real flair for monologues?"

Lois frowned from where she was leaning against the counter. "He's the one who killed your parents?"

"Bingo," I said, pointing at him. "Turns out, Voldy decided my universe wasn't enough. He hopped over here, because why terrorize one dimension when you can terrorize two? But wait, it gets better. Turns out, he got himself a little… possessed by Trigon."

Cue Lois nearly choking on her coffee. "Trigon? The demon Trigon? Destroyer of worlds? That Trigon?"

"The very same," Deedee piped up, popping a grape into her mouth like this was just another episode of Keeping Up with the Kents. "He's been hanging out in Clark's head for, what, a month now? Without Clark noticing, which, I gotta say, is both impressive and deeply unsettling."

Clark went pale. "What? I didn't—he was—"

"Oh, he was there," Deedee continued with a smirk. "And Lois? Let's just say Trigon got an up-close-and-personal view of your relationship. Intimate moments included."

Lois turned a shade of red that rivaled Kara's cape. "Excuse me?!"

"Deedee!" Kara hissed, glaring at her.

"What? Transparency is important," Deedee said innocently, though the gleam in her eye was anything but.

Before Lois could throw her coffee mug (which she looked very close to doing), I jumped back in. "Anyway! So, Voldemort, Trigon, lots of fire and destruction. The big finale came when I united the Deathly Hallows—long story short, they're ancient magical artifacts. Elder Wand, Resurrection Stone, Invisibility Cloak. Together, they're supposed to make you the 'Master of Death,' which, spoiler alert, is a total scam."

"It's not a scam," Deedee corrected, raising a finger. "It's a test. I put them in place centuries ago to find someone worthy of being my life partner. And guess what? You passed, Harry."

"Yay me," I said flatly, because sarcasm is my coping mechanism. "So now I'm apparently betrothed to Death herself. Not awkward at all."

"Wait," Ma Kent said, pausing mid-bacon flip. "You're… engaged? To her?"

"Technically, yes," Deedee replied, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Though it's more of an 'eternal bond' situation than a wedding. Very romantic, if I do say so myself."

Kori clapped her hands, her face lighting up like a star. "It is most wonderful news! Harry is already an excellent partner to Kara and me. Deedee will make an excellent addition!"

Ma Kent blinked. "I'm sorry—did you say partner? As in… plural?"

"Uh, yeah," Kara said, giving me a look that said, You owe me for this. "Kori and I thought Harry could use more support. You know, given his whole 'charging headfirst into danger' thing."

"Hey!" I protested. "I do not—"

"You do," Kara and Kori said in unison.

Pa Kent chuckled, finally setting down his newspaper. "Well, son, sounds like you've got your hands full."

"Understatement of the year," I muttered, sinking into a chair.

As Ma Kent set a plate of pancakes in front of me, I glanced around the table—Kara, Kori, Deedee, the Kents, and yes, even Lois, still looking mildly horrified—and couldn't help but smile. For all the chaos, for all the weirdness, this was… nice. Messy, sure, but nice.

Now, if only I could get through breakfast without someone proposing another interdimensional battle or awkward revelation, I might actually call this a win.

—

You'd think after fighting a demon-possessed dark wizard, somehow becoming betrothed to Death herself (don't ask), and surviving enough world-ending chaos to fill a very long memoir, the universe would give me a break. But no. Instead, I found myself smack in the middle of Smallville domestic life. And let me tell you, that's a whole new level of chaos.

It all started innocently enough. Ma Kent, being all nice and mom-ish, suggested, "Why don't you all freshen up?"

"Great idea!" Kori chimed in, practically glowing like a puppy in a basket. "Kara and I love to shower together after a long day. Harry, you will join us, yes?"

Now, I've faced off against dark wizards, gigantic serpents, and the occasional rogue demon, but nothing prepared me for the level of scandal that flashed across Ma Kent's face. I didn't know it was possible for a woman who had just been told about world-ending magical battles and, oh yeah, Death itself to look that shocked.

"Uh, nope!" Pa Kent said, stepping in with that "I've raised Superman, I can handle anything" tone. "That's not happening under my roof. Everyone takes their own shower. Alone."

Kori's head tilted. "But—?"

"Nope," Pa said, cutting her off with the finality of someone who knows what they're doing. "End of discussion."

And just when I thought things couldn't get worse, Deedee—because of course, Deedee—had to add fuel to the fire. "Fine, but I call dibs after Harry takes me out on a proper date. That was the deal."

I just put my head in my hands. "Why are you like this?"

Deedee smirked. "I'm Death, darling. I have eternity to perfect being insufferable."

After that, we managed to shuffle off to our respective showers without further incident. Miraculously, I managed to take one without any surprise visits, which I'm still amazed by. I might have even enjoyed it.

When I came downstairs, hair damp and feeling slightly human again (a rare occurrence these days), Pa Kent was waiting by the back door. "Harry," he said, sizing me up like he was about to offer me a job as a farmhand. "You interested in helping Clark and me with some chores? You seem like a kid who's not afraid to get his hands dirty."

This caught me off guard. Most people took one look at me and assumed I spent my life lounging on a couch eating chips. But if there's one thing Uncle Vernon taught me, it's how to do all the work while Dudley and he sat back and, well, got fatter.

"Sure," I said with a shrug. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Pa smiled. "We'll be out in the barn. Nothing too heavy—just some repairs and tending to the animals."

Clark, who'd been leaning against the kitchen counter like he was born to sip coffee and look cool, raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're up for it? Farming's harder than it looks."

I rolled my eyes. "Please. I spent most of my childhood as the unpaid, overworked servant at Privet Drive. You've got nothing on Aunt Petunia's 'clean-the-house-before-you're-allowed-to-breathe' routine."

Clark smirked, amused. "Alright, farm boy. Let's see what you've got."

Meanwhile, the girls were busy with Ma Kent in the kitchen. Kori was practically bouncing off the walls at the idea of learning how to make "earth-style pancakes," which, knowing her, probably involved something like starfruit and mango salsa. Kara and Lois were trying to steer her away from anything too alien, while Deedee, of course, was already perched on a stool, eating bacon and offering unsolicited advice on "spicing up" Ma's perfectly fine recipes.

As I followed Pa and Clark outside, I couldn't help but grin. Sure, I never expected to be doing chores on a farm in Smallville, but honestly? It was kind of nice. No dark wizards, no demons, no world-ending threats. Just a couple of guys trying to fix a barn and a kid who may or may not have a superpower secret.

(And yeah, you know where this is going. When I say "just a couple of guys," I mean that in the loosely defined sense of the term. But more on that later.)

—

Okay, so I thought being Death's Betrothed was going to be the weirdest part of my day, but then Pa Kent dragged me into farm life, and I quickly realized that cleaning out pigsties could be just as dangerous as fighting demons, or—let's be real—dark wizards. I mean, who knew that fixing a fence could lead to accidental geological events?

Let's rewind a little.

Clark (aka Superman, the guy who actually knows how to do everything) and I teamed up like the least likely farmhands in the history of farming. He's over there using his actual super strength to do everything, while I'm trying to figure out how not to destroy the fence—or the barn—or possibly the entire farm.

"Just like this," Clark said, lifting a wooden beam like it was made out of marshmallows. "You'll get the hang of it."

I stared at him, because... seriously? "Okay, I don't think I can actually lift a tree with my mind, but I'm still strong enough to—"

BOOM!

I looked down. Apparently, instead of fixing the post, I had just created a new hole in the ground. There's now a giant hole where a fence post used to be. Oops. Definitely didn't mean to do that.

Clark raised an eyebrow and gave me this look that said, Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're hiding something. "You sure you're not hiding any extra powers up your sleeves? You're stronger than I thought."

"Oh, it's nothing," I said, rubbing my shoulder like I totally meant to do that. "Just the blood of a demigod, a phoenix, and a basilisk coursing through my veins. No big deal."

Clark's lips twitched. "You're full of surprises."

Meanwhile, Pa Kent, the absolute farm god, was taking care of the chores like it was no big deal. Seriously, this guy could teach superheroes how to farm. If there was a "Father of the Year" award for surviving the weirdest houseguests in the universe, Pa Kent would have a trophy case the size of Metropolis.

"So, Harry," Pa said, eyeing me as he grabbed another bag of feed, "you're not much for working with your hands, are ya?"

I blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

He nodded toward me, then glanced over at Clark with this knowing smile. "You've got that... glow about ya. Stronger than a regular kid your age. You sure you didn't have a few extra enhancements growing up?"

I shot him a look. "Would it help if I told you I'm betrothed to Death herself?" I asked, trying to make him laugh.

Pa didn't even flinch. "Eh, you get used to strange things around here. After all, my son's Superman." He gave a satisfied grunt and went back to fixing whatever was broken. "We all have our quirks."

Just when I thought things couldn't get any weirder, Deedee—who apparently has nothing better to do than show up at random moments to ruin my life—popped in with a big grin on her face.

"You promised me a date, Harry," she said, eyes glinting. "I'll hold you to it."

I swear, she's enjoying making me squirm.

But, moving on to more weirdness—my new "powers." Yeah, they're definitely not the regular kind. The whole Elder Wand thing? I'm still not sure how that works, but it's kinda like I swallowed a magical encyclopedia without realizing it.

Just like what happened back during the fight. One minute I'm getting my butt handed to me by Trigon, and the next thing I know, I've got enough magic to make mountains go boom. (Don't worry, I didn't actually blow up a mountain... this time. But that's only because I didn't mean to.)

So here's where it gets fun. I was working on fixing a barn door (not the most exciting task, I know, but bear with me), and the next thing I knew? I'd fixed it. Without even thinking. No wand. No nothing. Just me, thinking about how the door was supposed to be fixed, and—poof! It was fixed. Like I knew the spell without even learning it.

"Huh," I muttered to myself, staring at the now-perfect barn door. "I didn't even know I knew that one."

Clark, who had been fixing the roof like it was nothing (literally just lifted the whole thing), glanced at me. "Do you ever just... know things you didn't know before?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean like how to fix things with no effort at all, even though I'm not sure how I did it?"

Clark didn't look up. "Yeah. Happens to us Kryptonians all the time. But I think it's more about the Elder Wand. Or, uh, are you just a magical genius?"

I chuckled nervously. "I'm not sure I even know who I am anymore."

Then, just to really mess with my head, another burst of magical knowledge hit me. And suddenly, I knew all about Grindelwald and Voldemort. Like, knew. The names floated through my mind like I had just read a textbook on both of them, which is strange because I didn't remember reading it.

I looked at my hands, then at Clark. "Okay, this is definitely weird," I said, pulling a bit of magic together to fix a loose nail without thinking. "Pretty sure I didn't learn that in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"You're not the only one who's been gifted with strange abilities," Clark said, like he was reading my mind.

That was comforting.

Anyway, Pa Kent finished up the chores faster than I thought possible, and honestly? I felt pretty good about my contributions—mainly because I didn't destroy anything important.

We stood back and admired the work for a second, and then Clark gave me this sly grin and said, "Not bad, farm boy."

And then? I heard a loud clanging sound from inside the barn. Apparently, when you mix superstrength, wandless magic, and farm equipment, things get a little out of hand.

But, hey, at least we got the chores done… mostly.

—

Deedee wasn't a big fan of family reunions. You'd think being Death would give her a free pass on sibling drama. But no, when your family consists of the Endless, squabbling is practically a hobby. Like Thanksgiving dinner, but with more existential crises.

She'd picked a cozy little nowhere between realities for the meetup. It wasn't much—a space where light had trust issues and gravity was on vacation—but it had a certain charm. Plus, no mortals to stumble in and get vaporized. Bonus.

"So nice of you to finally show up," Desire said, lounging dramatically against thin air like a supermodel in a perfume ad. They managed to make 'hello' sound like a jab. "We've only been waiting, oh, forever."

"Desire," Deedee replied, her voice the textbook definition of "I'm not in the mood," "don't start."

Destiny, the eldest, stood off to the side with his giant book—probably reading ahead. He always did that, the cosmic spoiler king. "Your actions have disrupted the balance," he intoned. No hello, no how's-it-going. Just straight to the lecture. Classic Destiny.

"I disrupted the balance?" Deedee threw up her hands. "The Hallows have been a mess for centuries. I'm the one cleaning it up. You're welcome, by the way."

"Cleaning it up?" Destruction rumbled, leaning on his hammer like some kind of brooding blacksmith. "You're marrying a mortal, sister. Explain to me how that's fixing anything."

Deedee glared at him. "It's called making a connection, Destruction. Maybe you should try it sometime."

Dream, who had been staring moodily into the distance (his default setting), finally turned to her. "And why, pray tell, does this mortal matter so much?"

There it was, the million-dollar question. Deedee took a deep breath. "Because unlike the rest of you, I actually spend time with them. Real time. At their most honest. Their final moments. You've all forgotten what it's like to be human."

Desire let out a dramatic laugh. "Oh, here we go. Another one of Death's speeches about humanity. Tell me, dear sister, when was the last time a mortal didn't disappoint you?"

"Last night," Deedee shot back. "His name was Harry, and he reminded me that humans aren't just a bunch of mistakes waiting to happen. He sees the brokenness of the world and still fights for it. When's the last time you felt something real, Desire?"

Desire narrowed their eyes, but before they could deliver a cutting comeback, Delirium spoke up. She'd been floating upside down, watching bubbles of rainbow light shift and pop in her hands. "I think it's... nice," she said. "Like when you find a shiny penny and don't know if it's lucky, but you keep it anyway."

Everyone stared at her.

"What?" Delirium shrugged. "It's better than being boring."

"Delirium thinks it's nice." Desire rolled their eyes. "What an endorsement."

"Look," Deedee said, her voice softening. "I get it. You all think I've gone rogue. But maybe it's time we stopped treating humans like chess pieces. They're not just pawns in some cosmic game. They're real. They matter."

Destruction sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're not wrong, but binding yourself to one of them? It's reckless, Deedee. Even for you."

"Unprecedented," Destiny added, because of course he did.

"Yeah, well, we're the Endless," Deedee snapped. "Rules don't exactly apply to us."

"They exist for a reason," Destiny countered.

"And maybe," Deedee said, "it's time we questioned those reasons."

Dream tilted his head, his eyes glittering like distant stars. "And the mortal? This Harry? What does he mean to you?"

Deedee smiled, a little sad, a little hopeful. "He reminds me why I do this job. Why it matters."

For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Destruction nodded slowly. "Just... be careful, sister."

"I always am," Deedee said, smirking.

Desire's voice lingered in the air as the siblings began to fade. "Careful enough to avoid heartbreak? I doubt it."

Alone again, Deedee let out a long sigh. "Yeah, well," she muttered, "what's life without a little risk?"

---

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