No. That wasn’t her. That was Cadaverous. That had happened to Cadaverous and Valkyrie could see it, his memories playing all around her like projections on the walls of an attic, projections she could walk into. Touch.
Change.
She went back to Cadaverous’s father strangling his mother, and she thought about his hands lifting away from her neck, then watched it happen.
This was hard. This was worse than hard, this was painful. She couldn’t feel her body any more, but she could feel the pain this was causing her. Nevertheless, she persisted.
She thought about her own life, the love her own parents had shown her, had demonstrated for her again and again, and she took that love and released it here. She fed Cadaverous the love she had known, the smiles and the laughter. She fed him the support and the understanding. She fed him the light, a light that beat the darkness back.
She knew Cadaverous, knew what drove him, but now she also saw this clumsy veil she had pulled over his pain. It was stretched tight, and wouldn’t last, and was already beginning to tear as she backed out of his thoughts. But it was love, and it was something Cadaverous had never truly known.
Valkyrie blinked. She was standing, her hand pressed against his head. Cadaverous’s eyes were glazed. She let go, almost stumbled.
His voice cracked when he spoke. “What did you … what did you do to me?”
She stepped back, ignoring the headache. She felt blood run from her nose and wiped it away.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He focused on her, and frowned. “I don’t … What did you do to me?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly.
She heard footsteps behind her. The teenage boy walked forward. Cadaverous stared at him.
“Help me,” Cadaverous said.
Slowly, the boy put his hand on the old man’s face. “I don’t think I can.”
Tears rolled down Cadaverous’s cheeks. “Please,” he said.
“We’re too damaged,” the boy said, and smiled sadly. “You didn’t have a chance.”
“It hurts.”
“I know it does.” The boy turned to Valkyrie. “Go,” he said. “Thank you, and go.”