Chapter Text
“Sonya!”
His vision swirled, his mind a chaotic blur. Rage, fear, and agony overwhelmed him, leaving him barely able to stand. Newt’s body was a tumult of emotions he couldn’t control. All he could do was scream.
He didn’t consciously feel himself leap from the ground or harness his powers. He wasn’t sure how he was still fighting, but he surrendered to the force overtaking him. His fury was now directed at Lawrence with relentless intensity.
He had failed—failed as a son, a brother, and a guardian. He couldn’t protect his sister, the one promise he had vowed to keep.
A beam of light struck Lawrence squarely in the chest. Lawrence's face twisted with anger as he noticed Ava standing beside Newt. Both blondes unleashed beams of energy at him, and Lawrence tried to block their combined assault. But he was overwhelmed.
“Keep pushing, Newt,” Ava urged. “We’re almost there.”
Newt didn’t need any more encouragement. He poured every ounce of his strength into his attack, driving harder and harder.
Lawrence’s defenses faltered as his powers waned. Newt and Ava’s combined energy surged through him, causing Lawrence to scream in agony. As the relentless assault continued, Lawrence began to disintegrate into the air. His very essence vanished, floating away like ash in the wind. The barrier around them shattered, leaving only the remaining monsters to face.
With Lawrence vanishing, Newt’s adrenaline and fury began to fade, replaced by a deep seated worry for his sister. His heart, still pounding, was now consumed by concern for her safety.
Newt rushed back to Sonya, finding Mary and Harriet kneeling beside her. Harriet, visibly distraught, was desperately trying to rouse the unconscious girl. "Is she dead?" Harriet’s voice trembled.
Mary placed her hand on Sonya’s heart and closed her eyes. “No. She’s alive.”
Both Newt and Harriet exhaled in relief, until Mary suddenly hissed in pain and yanked her hand away. “What was that?” Harriet demanded, alarmed.
“I’m not sure,” Mary said, her voice tight with worry. “I need to get her back to the school immediately. There’s something wrong, and I don’t think I can heal her on my own.”
“I can help,” Ava offered, stepping forward. “But you both need to stay here and help Thomas.”
Newt knelt beside Sonya, gently cupping her cheek. He wanted desperately to abandon the battle and go with her, but the fight wasn’t over, and Thomas still needed his protection. “I’ll see you soon, Sunny. You better be awake when I get there.”
Harriet placed a tender kiss on Sonya’s forehead and ran her fingers through her hair. “You’re going to be okay. You have to be. Just hold on.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Mary said as she carefully lifted Sonya into her arms.
Newt watched helplessly as his sister was carried away, the echoes of his parents’ disappointed voices haunting his mind.
Jorge collapsed to the ground after Janson struck him with a nearby lamppost.
Janson’s attention shifted to Thomas. He harnessed the water from nearby fire hydrants, unleashing a powerful stream that slammed into Thomas, knocking him off his feet. As Thomas struggled to regain his balance, Janson stomped the ground, sending a violent vibration towards him. The ground gave way, and Thomas tumbled into the collapsing hole.
Vince, seeing his opportunity, launched himself at Janson with full force, landing a solid punch to his chest. The impact sent Janson staggering several blocks away, out to the edge of the city and into the beginning of the Glade. Janson quickly recovered, dodging Vince’s follow-up strike. The two brothers engaged in a fierce hand to hand battle, their movements a blur of strikes and counterattacks. Janson ignited a burst of flames, which Vince narrowly leaped over, only for Vince’s punch to be blocked by Janson, who then summoned rocks from the ground to defend himself.
Meanwhile, Thomas managed to air jump out of the hole, spotting his father locked in combat with Janson. He quickly started to make his way over, sprinting with all his might.
Vince grappled with Janson and pinned him against a tree, the impact rattling the branches. “Enough!” he shouted. “Stop right now. Don’t make me do something you know I don’t want to do.”
Janson’s expression remained impassive. He patted his brother’s chest and spoke with a cold, detached tone. “Brother, don’t worry. You won’t have to.”
Thomas was closing in, around fifty yards away, when he saw it. “DAD!”
Vince didn’t notice until it was too late.
He began to scream and convulse as Janson delivered a brutal electric shock to his heart. Vince reached out in a desperate attempt to grab Janson, but the man slammed him to the ground and unleashed a surge of electricity. “I’m sorry,” Janson said softly, his voice tinged with cold resolve. “But I can’t make an exception, even for you.”
The last thing Vince saw was his brother’s cold face and a blinding flash of blue light.
Time is a peculiar thing.
It’s an illusion made up to give a sense of comfort to one’s own naivety to something greater that cannot be perceived. Oftentimes it is deemed that it moves too quickly when a joyous present moment happens within a blink of an eye. Other times, it can drag on when a dull or unexciting event is occurring. But when one witnesses a horror, time no longer exists.
The boy froze.
His jaw was clenching so hard that he could feel the pounding in his head. He was quivering with a fiery rage that was burning in his heart. His throat strained from the animalistic roar that erupted from inside of him as his vision went red with fury.
Janson, standing over his father’s body, smirked from afar and vanished from sight.
Thomas’s entire being became illuminated with cobalt. He began levitating off the ground and soared above the city. The calamitous fury that he was teeming with was creating a violent tornado of hatred around him. He began to sweep through the crowds of Cranks in the city with an unimaginable, indiscriminate force wrecking everything in his path, impervious that he may also be causing his friends to be in the line of fire.
But this wasn’t Thomas. He was aware of what was happening, but someone else was in control of him. Or something.
He demolished a street at a time, cleansing them of the beasts that were nothing more than ants to him. But they weren’t what he wanted. He wanted Janson.
He kept moving through the city, wrecking everything he came across in his pursuit of revenge.
But then everything stopped.
In an instant, he was consumed by a searing pale blue light. The shockwave hit him like an invisible tidal wave, a pulse of intense electricity racing through his body. It felt as if the very fabric of reality was torn open, and he was plunged into a maelstrom of raw energy. Every nerve in his body seemed to scream simultaneously, his muscles convulsing uncontrollably as though gripped by an unseen force.
The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt, a combination of burning heat and icy cold, as if his very essence was being reshaped. His vision swam with bright afterimages, and his ears rang with a high pitched whine that made him feel as though he were underwater.
Time stretched and warped, moments of clarity interspersed with waves of disorientation. As the world slowly came back into focus, the storm raging inside him had gone, but it was exchanged with furious sparks echoing in his pounding heart.
And falling. He felt like he was falling.
Newt stood there in horrifying clarity as he watched the boy he loved fall from the sky.
He immediately sprung into action and launched himself into the air.
He could only watch Thomas’s body caught in a helpless tumble. Janson’s lightning strike had been merciless, leaving Thomas unconscious and vulnerable, and Newt's stomach clenched with desperation.
His heart pounded with every beat as he soared over the chaos around him, his powers flaring to life. His speed increased, and with desperate yet fierce determination, he stretched his arms out, his focus solely on Thomas, his mind screaming for him to reach him in time.
Newt’s eyes locked on Thomas, whose form grew larger with every second, the impact of his fall growing ever closer. With a final surge of power, Newt blasted his magic and caught Thomas in mid-air. He enveloped him in a protective cocoon of magic, his arms steadying Thomas’s limp body as he began their descent into the Glade.
He could feel the intensity of Thomas’s body against his own, the impact of the lightning still coursing through him. Newt’s heart ached as he felt his lover convulsing in his arms.
With haste, Newt gently guided them to the ground, his eyes never leaving Thomas’s face. He knelt beside him, cradling Thomas’s head in his lap. Newt’s gaze was fixed on Thomas, who remained unconscious but alive. His convulsing lessened as Newt ran a trembling hand through his hair.
He lent Thomas forward to look at the damage. His back was a canvas of agony and destruction, marked by the brutal impact of the lightning strike. His clothing was scorched and tattered. The burn stretched across his back like a jagged, seared scar. There were blistered, red patches of deep, dark black where the strike had burned through. A chaotic path of scorched flesh traced an uneven line down from the shoulder blades to the small of his back. The strike had sliced through his body, leaving a charred trail in its wake. Newt’s heart twisted with sorrow. He could see how deep the injury was, the way the lightning carved a path of destruction into Thomas’s flesh and muscle.
With a profound relief, Thomas took a shaky breath and cracked open his eyes. Newt gently caressed the brunette’s face, wiping away his own tear that fell onto his cheek. “I’ve got you, Tommy. I’ve got you.”
Newt positioned Thomas sitting up against a fallen tree. The impact had left Thomas wincing with every breath, his face etched with pain but also with a glimmer of relief as he looked up at Newt. Newt's fingers lingered gently on Thomas's cheek, brushing away the damp strands of hair plastered to his forehead. He took a shuddering breath, his eyes never leaving Thomas’s. “Stay with me, okay?” Newt whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with a fierce tenderness. “Just stay with me.”
Thomas's eyes fluttered weakly, a faint, pained smile tugging at his lips. "I... I’m here," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, strained but present.
Newt nodded, fighting to control the tremor in his hands as he placed a protective arm around Thomas. He could feel the warmth of Thomas’s body, though it was marred by the intense cold that the shock of the lightning had left behind.
“Thomas!”
Newt turned defensively by instinct, but immediately dropped his guard when he saw all of their friends coming to his aid. Everyone was appalled by how badly wounded Thomas was. Teresa immediately ran and knelt by his side, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. She tried her best to keep her composure, but it was hard to hide how scared she was. “Tom. Tom you’re okay, alright?”
“We have to get him to his mom,” Aris said. “She can heal him.”
Newt only saw Thomas, and he watched as the boy struggled to stay present and alert. If he needed his mom, Newt was going to get him there no matter what.
The only thing Thomas could clearly hear was the thumping of his heart in his ears, and that was the only way he knew he was still alive. His breaths were shallow and irregular, but slowly becoming more steady. The strong fighter in him was now gone, replaced by a profound stillness.
The lightning strike had left him in a state of unawareness, his mind and body locked in a fragile, unconscious repose. The raw power of the strike had overwhelmed his senses, leaving him disoriented and numb.
The only thing that grounded him was the gentle touch of the one he loved most. He met eyes with the blonde and saw the tender but worried look in his eyes. Thomas could feel himself being pulled back when he looked at Newt.
But then, the atmosphere changed. And Thomas could see that Newt felt it too.
Everyone became cautious, scanning their surroundings with the fear of the unknown circulating in their minds. The air around them seemed to shift with an almost palpable tension. But amidst this tentative calm, a sense of unease began to settle over the group. A cool breeze that should have felt refreshing to the exhausted fighters felt more threatening. The air became heavy with a sense of dread lingering in its wake
Thomas’s friends exchanged uneasy glances. They had learned to become attuned to the subtle shifts in their environment, and something felt profoundly wrong. It was as if the very fabric of the world was holding its breath, waiting for an inevitable confrontation.
The eerie sensation was almost tangible, a chill that prickled at the back of their necks and made the hairs on their arms stand on end. The air was thick with a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves from the trees.
Thomas’s medallion, still intact despite the fierce strike to him, began to glow.
“He’s here,” Thomas mumbled.
As if on cue, Janson appeared in front of them stepping through a portal, a mere thirty or so yards from Thomas. He looked dead into his eyes, locking on to his prey. He was taking slow, small steps towards them, smirking and making direct eye contact with Thomas, like a hunter who had just cornered their prey.
Newt rose from his spot, terror filling every single morsel of his body. He took slow, small steps moving forward in disbelief Janson was right there. He turned back and looked at Thomas and the two met each other’s gaze, knowing full well what this meant. Newt turned back to Janson, still unable to grasp the fact that any of this was happening.
Everyone else was in the same state of mind, no one daring to move as it would result in their demise if they did. No one moved a muscle. They remained like statues, the situation at hand too much for them to comprehend at this moment. Because this moment was it. They either win here, or die here.
Newt was the first to break out of it, summoning his magic and moving to stand in front of Thomas, eyes dead set on Janson. “Let’s get him.”
Before he could even take a step, Minho raised a hand to stop him. “No.”
Minho turned to look at his two friends solemnly. The anguish and despair that was coursing through all of them unsurprisingly were overcoming Minho too. His face was stoic, but the fear in his eyes mirrored Newt’s own. “We got this Newt.”
“You need to get Thomas out of here,” Teresa added.
“What? Minho-”
“Newt. Go.” Minho turned back at Janson, and charged forward.
Even in his wounded state, Thomas knew what he was telling Newt. His friends all knew the risks that came with this, and they would do anything for him. But the grim reality of this situation had sunk in. He now knows his destiny. He can’t let them do this.
“We’ll buy you as much time as we can,” Teresa said, turning and charging forward with the rest.
Thomas watched as the remainder of his friends were marching towards their impending doom. He became angry with himself that he put everyone in the same position as that other night he and Newt were attacked. Only this time, he had a way to stop it. It was up to him.
Well, him and someone else.
“Newt.” Thomas, his face etched with pain and desperation, reached up with trembling hands to grab Newt’s wrist. The movement was weak, but it carried the weight of his resolve. Newt looked down at him, his usually bright eyes now clouded with anguish and conflict. He felt the warmth of Newt’s skin against his own, a comforting reminder of the love that was about to be tested beyond its limits.
“Now. Do it now.”
“No.” Newt’s voice cracked, a pained denial that reverberated through the silence. His face was pale, his eyes wide with an intensity that betrayed his inner turmoil.
“You promised,” Thomas whispered.
“I can’t, Thomas. I can’t .” Newt’s voice was thick with emotion, a tortured plea that seemed to fight against the very air around them. His eyes were locked on Thomas’s, filled with an unspoken pain and the weight of impossible choices.
“You have to,” Thomas begged. “You have to. Please.”
“You can’t ask me to do this.” Newt’s words were barely audible, lost in the fog of his own helplessness.
“I know. It’s not fair, I know. I’m sorry it’s you, Newt. But you’re the only one who can do this.”
“No,” Newt murmured. Newt murmured, the denial a low, heartbreaking whisper. The word was laden with the weight of his own fears, reflecting the emotional chasm between them that seemed insurmountable.
He could see Newt mentally resisting, but he also knows Newt. He knows that deep down, in some capacity, Newt knows that he is right. “It’s okay,” Thomas reassured. “You won't hurt me.”
“Thomas-”
“We’re not going to win this Newt.” Thomas’s voice grew weaker, but his determination shone through. “We're out of options, and we don’t have time to come up with any more. This is the only way.”
The finality of his statement seemed to hang in the air, the gravity of their situation pressing down with an almost physical weight. The Glade, once a place of light and comfort, had become a stage for a heart wrenching decision, the shadows lengthening as if to underscore the crushing inevitability of their choices.
And then Thomas put the final nail in the coffin.
“Please, Newt. Please.”