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Chapter Text

The apartment was dark and quiet when Warren walked in, with just the under-cabinet lights in the kitchen shedding any illumination. "I'm home," he called out, shedding his jacket -- a light windbreaker, despite the snow outside, and the only deference he gave to hiding the immunity to the cold that his powers gave him -- and toeing off his boots. "Anyone else?"

A soft, "Nngh," came from the direction of the main bedroom, followed a moment later by Will's voice, thick with sleep: "Yeah, just napping."

Walking down the hallway, Warren shed his pants, then his shirt, then socks, dropping them on the floor as he went. It would annoy Layla when she got home, he knew, but that was half the fun. "Want company?" he called back, although he didn't want for an answer as, stripped to his boxer-briefs, he launched himself at the California King that took pride-of-place in the center of the room. Either Will would catch him or the bed would, and it was specially reinforced by Spex (properly Kid Spex, although given that he was in his twenties at this point and that both his grandmother, Nurse Spex, and his father, the original Spex, were retired from active heroing, Warren privately thought the moniker was a little... out-dated) to handle even Will's enhanced strength and the added mass that came from his durability. It had been a "wedding" gift, and as much as Layla had insisted that gifts hadn't been required, especially as it wasn't even an actual wedding, Warren knew that even she appreciated the effort their friend had gone to; Spex used his engineering powers both to operate as a gadget-based hero and to provide a line of furnishings designed to hold up to the day-to-day use of superheroes (which also made him a mint from civilian collectors), but the bed was a marvel both of engineering and design, the latter of which Spex spared no effort on despite it not being part of his power-set.

Warren felt Will's hands on him as he landed on the mattress, guiding him more directly to the side so that Will, using all the extra inches he'd gained in his last growth-spurt senior year, could pull Warren's back against him and curl himself around his husband. "Yes, please," he said, his words still groggy and muffled against Warren's neck. "Mmm, you're so warm. Everything okay? You get into a fight after work?"

"Nah, stopped a mugger on the way home," Warren explained. He tugged Will's arms tighter, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of being held. "Melted some snow under his feet so he slipped. 'S fine, just still running a little hot."

The sound of the front door opening, then closing, was followed by a fond but exasperated, "Warren! Clothes!" from Layla, heralding her appearance at the bedroom door a moment later. She was already slipping her blouse off her shoulders, though, and she shimmied off her skirt before tossing both items into the laundry hamper in the corner. "How many times do I need to remind you not to drop your clothes in the hallway?" she asked, even as she climbed onto the bed and tucked herself up against Warren, giving him a quick kiss before leaning over his shoulder to do the same to Will.

"I dunno." Warren grinned at her, leaning his forehead against hers. "I guess you'll find out when I stop doing it."

"Boys," she sighed, although it was underscored with a chuckle that grew at Will's indignant, "Hey!"

Warren squeezed Will's hand before reaching up to pull Layla closer to him. "Anyway, you wouldn't know what to do with me if I did stop."

Pulling back a little, Layla gave her husbands a calculating look. "I don't know, I think I have a few ideas... I mean, it would certainly be worthy of a reward. Maybe even a gold star!"

Will perked up over Warren's shoulder. "I vote gold star!"

The chore chart had been a joke, originally, not long after the three first got an apartment together during college. Well, a 'joke'; Layla was certainly in earnest about it, but she hadn't expected the boys to take to it seriously. Both Warren and Will had found the division of household labour helpful, though, and so they'd kept it running long after they fell into a comfortable routine. Task completion had been marked with an array of stickers, but gold stars had always been saved for when someone went above and beyond, and could be redeemed for rewards. After the first few times the trio had fallen into bed together, the rewards had... followed suit.

"Of course you do," Layla said, laughing, as she relaxed back into her husbands' arms. "Well, we can talk about that later. Oh! I had a call from Principal Powers today." Layla made a face. "Sharon, I mean. Still not used to that. Anyway, she has something she wants to talk to us all about; want to take a trip up to the school this weekend?"

Even as Will nodded enthusiastically, Warren frowned; he pushed back against Will a little, making room to turn onto his back so he could see both of his partners. "Did she say what she wants?"

"No, just that it's important, but not an emergency. She sounded a little stressed, but... Well, it's exam season, so it's hard to say whether this is related."

Warren nodded, considering. "Yeah, okay. Can't hurt to see what she needs, anyway. If it's particularly weird, we can always just say no, right?"

Layla looked at him dubiously while Will's expression turned stricken. "We can't say no to Principal Powers!" he exclaimed.

"I mean, it's not like she can give us detention anymore," Warren pointed out. "I'm not saying we should, just that we can if we need to."

"Theoretically, anyway." Layla shook her head. "No, you're right, I'm just-- I mean, she still seems like an authority figure, you know? Even discounting our time at the school, she's an OG hero. She was active when my grandfather was around. Maybe even my great-grandmother. It just seems natural to defer to her, y'know?"

"How old is she, anyway?" Will asked. "I mean, she certainly doesn't look old enough to have been around that long."

Layla gave him a light, teasing smack on the shoulder. "I don't know, and don't ask her. I don't want to find out if your invulnerability is a match for her powers."

Letting their banter wash over him, Warren let his thoughts run on this. It had only been about a year since they'd last been at the school, for their ten-year reunion, but before that, they'd basically hadn't heard from Powers since they'd graduated -- the occasional consult from one of them, especially for someone with a related powerset (or, in Warren's case, a similar backstory), but certainly nothing for all three of them. Whatever was going on, he mused, might be more serious that she had let on.

The halls of Sky High never seemed to change. Which, considering they could be reconfigured at-need thanks to some recent upgrades to the school's infrastructure, was even odder than nostalgia could account for. They were quiet, though not wholly unoccupied; there were a number of clubs and societies that met on the weekends, and so the occasional student walked through towards a meeting, or to the washroom. They gave the trio a wide berth, awe on their faces and huddled whispers betraying that they knew exactly which heroes had ventured into the school that day.

"Thank you for coming," a voice said from behind them, jolting Warren out of his reverie as they whirled to face Principal Powers. She gave them an apologetic smile, but continued, "I know it's short notice, and I wouldn't normally ask this of all three of you, but... Well. Shall we discuss this in my office?"

"Yes, of course," Layla replied, taking the lead as was her wont (and, to be fair, Will and Warren's preference). "Lovely array of bushes out front, by the way. Did you get a new gardener? You know I'm always happy to consult."

Powers laughed softly. "Something like that. There's a new biomancer in the freshman class. Gavin Blakney. He's started up a horticulture club. He can't control plants like you do, but he can encourage their growth and keep them healthy. He's the up-and-coming star in the Support track; Medulla thinks he may be able to create hybrids and plants with other favourable properties with a little more training."

Will blinked and stumbled to a halt. "Support track? I thought you'd gotten rid of Hero Support."

"Oh, we did," Powers confirmed, "but we reintroduced it a couple of years ago with a different tack, along with a few other tracks." Layla's nodding along, so Warren assumes that this was public knowledge and that he and Will just hadn't been keeping up with the news. "And they're all elective now -- you need to pick a track by the time you enter sophomore year, and can declare earlier if you wish to, but it's dependent on what you aim to do with your education from Sky High rather than an arbitrary assessment of your powers. Support is focused on skills like lab work, design, engineering, tinkering... Lots of transferable skills, as well, if someone doesn't want to go into heroing. Gavin has been having great success learning to use his powers in a laboratory setting, and has expressed an interest in going into medical research."

Frowning, Warren asks, "And if someone decides they want to change tracks?"

"It's certainly doable, up to a certain point," Powers explains, opening the door to her office and ushering them in before she closed the door behind them. She flicked the lock, and Warren could feel an energy field hum into being in the walls. "Once you're getting into junior or senior year, it gets to be difficult to complete the new stream's different requirements without taking summer courses or an extra year. However, we have had two students choose to do that, and we've done our best to support them through that transition." Settling behind her desk, Powers waved to the visitor chairs facing it; Will and Layla both sat, while Warren stood behind them. Powers sighed. "And now for the reason I asked you to come. Forgive me if this is blunt, but:

"I'm dying, and I'd like one of you to take my role as the Pillar."

Chapter Text

Silence reigns in the office for several long seconds before Will and Layla blurted out, in unison, "What!?" They started babbling over each other as Warren and Powers eyes met. She nodded at Warren, and he sighed, shaking his head.

"How long?" he asked, his voice cutting through his partners'. "Or do you not know?"

"A month, maybe two," Powers explained. "It's hard to say; I've lived longer than any of my kind. It's not so bad, all things considered. I'll be discorporate, but, well. This body took some getting used to in the first place. Might be nice to get back to how I used to be."

There's another long beat of silence before Layla raises her hand. "Excuse me, but... 'your' kind?"

Powers's mouth quirks up at one side. "What, you didn't think I looked this good at this age as a human, did you? My original comet was, effectively, my spaceship. Its crash tied me to what would eventually become the United States." She paused. "And also created the Grand Canyon."

Wryly, Warren said, "In fairness, you've never said anything otherwise, at least not publicly. Powers, especially early powers, were unpredictable enough that 'effectively immortal' wasnt exactly out of the realm of possibility."

She nodded, acknowledging the point, before continuing, "Ultimately, that's largely irrelevant. What's more important is the fact that I'm the Pillar, and we're going to need someone to take over that role. Did you ever wonder why I retired from active heroing?"

The three shared a look before shrugging. "I mean, not really?" Will ventured. "You took over as principal for Sky High, so I guess I always figured you just liked that more."

"Well, I do like teaching," Powers agreed, "but, no, I retired because I had to, after taking on the role as principal. There was... well. The specifics will matter later. The long and short of it is that the Pillar is a person who has allowed themselves to be tied directly into reality, keeping certain principles true when they would otherwise, normally... not be." She waved her hand, encompassing all of Sky High. "Basically, I'm the entire reason that superpowers are able to exist."

"So let me get this straight," Warren said, after another moment of silence as he and his partners processed this information. "The principal of Sky High is the embodiment of the principle of superpowers, and if someone doesn't take on that role before you die, our powers just... go away?"

"It'll take some time for normal reality to reassert itself, but, essentially, yes." Powers spread her hands out, shrugging. "So you can see the urgency."

"What does it mean for us?" Layla asked, at the same time that Will asked, "Why us?"

Powers pointed at Will first. "The Pillar concept works best with someone whose powers are... elemental in nature. Mine were a little bit of a stretch, partly because they're extraterrestrial in origin, but all three of you are good matches, Warren and Layla most of all."

"How are Will's powers elemental?" Warren blinked down at his husband. "Flying brick is about as far as you can get from elemental powers."

Layla nodded. "No, no, it makes sense -- it's the flying aspect, right? It's tied to winds, and gravity... And there's an argument that the flight, strength, and invulnerability powerset is itself 'elemental' in the sense of being one of the base forms of superpowers."

"Yes, exactly," Powers agreed. "As for what it means for you... The Pillar needs to be the principal of Sky High, so it does mean retiring from active heroing. There's a-- well, if you'll forgive me, there's a pun inherent in the role: the principal secures the principle. Whichever of you takes up the role will need to reside here, and you'll have authority over the school."

"Not it," Will proclaimed immediately, raising a hand. "Uh, not that-- I mean, it sounds like a real honour, but I don't think any of us want me in that kind of position of authority over teenagers."

Layla stuttered a few weak denials, but Will laughed them off; Warren privately agreed with him, but he wasn't going to say that out loud. "Are there any requirements that the Pillar reside alone?" Warren asked, and both Will and Layla shut up as they realised where the question led:

Could they stay together?

Powers's sly smile as she said, with a hint of laughter, "No, there is not," sent relief flooding through Warren's body. "In fact, while I have been living alone during my tenure, the suite was designed to accommodate a family in an effort to account for my eventual replacement. Even if it wasn't expected to be for quite some time."

"So this is, theoretically, something that we'd consider agreeing to," Layla said, glancing at Will, and then over her shoulder at Warren; both men nodded their agreement. "I suppose the obvious next question is, what does this entail?"

Pulling a folder of her desk drawer, Powers slid it across the desk to Layla. "The information I'm able to tell you ahead of time is there. It's a brief summary of the original ritual, the metaphysical structures used to anchor the Pillar to reality, and a basic history of the rituals that were drawn on to create this one. I may be the first Pillar, but the concept was adapted from earlier works. You might even recognise some of them, Layla; your great-grandmother was one of the people who performed the original ritual, and some of her handiwork showed up in her career afterwards."

Layla blinked at that, stunned, so Warren reached over to take the folder from her hand, which she let him do without protest. Flipping it open and skimming the first page, he asked, without looking up, "That's great, but what about this time?" He held the folder forward, between Layla and Will, and pointed at a sentence, underlined, in the very first paragraph: Due to the unique nature of the Pillar-Elect's powers, the ritual must be tailored to specifically them into account. It can be assumed that any future Pillar-Elect will present a similar obstacle. "How do we figure out how to 'tailor the ritual'? Do we even figure that out? You said that Layla's great-grandmother was involved in performing it originally. Who's performing it now?"

Powers frowned, the first time she'd betrayed any kind of negative emotion since the conversation started. "That's... an excellent question. The short answer is that we don't know yet. The people involved the first time, especially considering that it was before the Pillar was in place, were... unique. We've been considering that those with elemental-based powers might work best. When it first occurred to me that I might need to be replaced sooner rather than later, you were all on my list of potential participants, but the only other potential I had considered was Charlene." Wincing, Warren nodded, and Layla and Will both turned to him. Charlene, or 'Freeze Girl' as she'd been called back when they were in school, had done a jaunt with Warren as a crime-fighting duo during their college years, while Warren was on the west coast and Layla and Will were both studying in New York. They'd done well to start with, but their conflicting powers -- and personalities -- had led to a rather explosive dissolution of the team. If the school hadn't already been considering renovating, the fines for the damage to the Stanford Humanities Center would have bankrupted Warren. As it was, he'd elected to leave California and join Layla and Will. "Yes, I rather thought she might no longer be an option. Ideally, whoever performs the ritual should be someone the future Pillar trusts. Whichever of you are not taking the role will certainly serve, but there should, ideally, be a third."

"Let us think about it," Layla offered. "I assume there's some preparation to take care of before the ritual itself can happen? When were you hoping to put this into place? And-- forgive me for asking, but are we the only option? If we all say no, is there no one else you could consider? Surely there are other heroes with elemental powers you could ask."

Powers shook her head, sighing. "Elemental powers, yes. That I could ask? Less so." She gestured at the folder. "You'll understand more as you read, and moreso as you undergo the preparation and the ritual itself, but there's a certain... temperament... required. A specific relationship with your powers. It's what will allow you to complete the trials."

Hesitantly, and with a glance at his partners, Will asked, "Uh, trials? You haven't mentioned trials."

"No, I suppose I haven't," Powers confirmed, her smile just on the edge of a satisfied smirk. "There are three of them, and even I don't know what they'll be. My colleagues are responsible for them. If you all agree to at least try... We can begin this weekend. I'd recommend staying here overnight so we can get started first thing in the morning."

Warren reached up to squeeze first Layla's, then Will's, shoulder, a silent confirmation of his thoughts on the matter; Will leaned over to nudge Layla and nodded when she looked his way. "We'll do it," she confirmed, and Powers visibly sagged with relief, tension Warren hadn't even realised she was holding letting go all at once. "One way or another, you'll have your Pillar."

As Layla closed the door to one of Sky High's guest suites -- and since when did Sky High have guest quarters, much less suites? -- Warren pulled a chair away from the kitchen table, spun it around, and sat down on it backwards, arms folded on the backrest. "So," he said, as Will plunked down on the couch and Layla settled into an armchair. "One of us has the 'opportunity' to become the principal of Sky High. With everything that apparently entails."

"Can we go back to the part where Principal Powers is dying?" Will frowned. "I mean, it didn't sound like she was too worried about it, but that kinda freaks me out, too."

Layla nodded slowly; Warren recognised her 'thinking' face, the expression she got when she was going over a conversation, or otherwise putting pieces of information into place. "I'm not sure dying is actually the right word for it. It sounds more like..."

"Like her body is finally just wearing out?" Warren suggested, and Layla snapped her fingers at him.

"Yes, exactly! She used 'discorporate', and talked about her body as kind of a... separate thing. I think she's just a non-corporeal lifeform. So her body is dying, and whatever was done to make her the Pillar is tied to that, but she's not actually dying herself." Layla winced. "I think, anyway. I mean, that's all conjecture at this point, but it does make sense!"

Warren nodded, considering. "Well, I'm not about to ask her directly, unless it turns out we need to, but maybe it'll come up during this whole process." He waved vaguely in the direction of Powers's office. "I'm a little more concerned about these trials. I get that we're not competing against each other, but it still feels a little arbitrary."

"Trials like this usually serve two purposes," Layla explained. "First, to prove that the competitors are actually ready for whatever the 'prize' is, but second to prepare them for the prize. I'm thinking that we're dealing with both of those outcomes here. For that matter, if it's about preparing us, they could be part of the ritual itself. The one that makes someone the Pillar, I mean."

"I think the last bit is most likely." Warren glanced over at Will, who looked, uncharacteristically, deep in thought; not, Warren mused, that Will was an idiot, but he was the most impulsive of the three (... in most contexts, Warren allowed, given that he, himself, was known for an impulsive reaction or two himself when his blood went hot), and usually left the 'deep thoughts' to his spouses. "What're you thinking, Stronghold?"

"Well... I guess I still don't really understand this whole Pillar thing? Like, what does she mean, 'anchored to reality'? How do you even manage something like that if superpowers don't exist in the first place?"

Warren blinked as he rolled the thought around in his brain, then looked at Layla, who was staring at Will agape. "I guess..." she started, then paused again. "I mean. Clearly there must have been something before the Pillar was in place, because otherwise Sharon would never have been able to-- but if that's true, then... Then, yes, that's a really important question that I think we need answered before we agree to anything."

Will and Warren both nodded enthusiastically, and Warren was about to get up from his chair and join Will on the couch, snagging Layla as he passed her, to get in some snuggle time. Instead, he was interrupted by the PA speaker in the corner crackling to life. "Congratulations, my friends," a voice said; it was vaguely familiar, although Warren couldn't quite place it. Warm and pleasing, and undeniably masculine, it nonetheless set the hairs on the back of his neck on-end. It was all he could do not to fling a fireball at the offending speaker. "You've passed the first trial. Your second trial begins now."

The lights in the room went out, and then the chair Warren was braced against, and the rest of the room, went with them.

Chapter Text

Consciousness returned slowly, with Warren first becoming aware of the cold stone under his face. He opened his eyes, resisting the urge to fall back to sleep, only to see nothing but darkness. "Will? Layla?" he called, pushing himself to his knees before climbing to his feet, coughing as his lungs protested. He ached as if he'd been in a long, drawn-out fight, or as if he'd fallen from a great height, but the last thing he remembered was the lights in the guest suite going out.

His call to his spouses echoed, giving him a sense that the room, or cave, or wherever he found himself, was cavernous, but it also prompted a soft groan from nearby. "Will!" he repeated, and he tossed a fireball up above them, confident enough in the room's size that he was sure wouldn't hit anything. It hovered there, a trick he'd learned over the last few years, shedding light over the immediate vicinity.

Warren pushed down his curiosity about the room -- and it was a room, now, he could tell, with finished stone floors and pillars scattered about -- as he took a few steps, reaching down to help Will to his feet. "Where are we?" Will asked, looking around. "And where's Layla?"

"Over here," came her reply, from the shadows; Warren tossed a second fireball up, at an angle, to add its illumination to the area. Layla was struggling to her own feet, looking a little more unsteady than either Warren or Will, but she waved off their concern as they rushed to her side. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she insisted. "I'm just feeling a little cut-off. Wherever we are, there are no plants about, and whoever put us here left my kit back in the suite."

"What about your-" Will started, just as Layla reached up to her neck and pulled out a small pouch on a leather strap.

"I've got my stash," she confirmed. To Warren's eyes, she was already settling, finding her balance and looking more steady. "It's just-- I never refilled it after last time I used it, so I don't have a whole lot with me. Should be enough to help, if powers are the solution to any of this, but I've only got one or two big moves."

Warren nodded, turning to look around the room now that he knew both his spouses were okay. "Any idea where we are?" he asked, and the others shook their heads.

The room was cavernous, both large and tall, with irregular pillars reaching from the floor to the distant, cathedral-like ceiling. Coloured glass in the nearest walls glinted in the light of Warren's fireballs, and on closer inspection seemed to be stained glass windows -- or would be windows, if they weren't embedded into the stone behind them. Stone pews were arrayed not far from where they stood, facing towards a raised dais which held an altar, all hewn from the same stone. "It looks like a church," Will said, finally, and Warren had to agree. "An underground church of some kind?"

Warren drew the first of his fireballs down, sending it out and along the wall. "No door," he said, finally, as it came back to him, and he tossed it upwards once more. "Which is even weirder. I mean, a teleporter could have brought us in, but how did this get built in the first place?"

"I think it was carved," Layla said, looking up from where she'd been examining one of the pews. "Look, you can see, there's no seam. This was carved out of the stone that was already here, not placed here after it was built." She gestured at the dais and the altar. "I bet they're the same."

Drawing the fireball behind him as he moved towards the dais, Warren stopped and knelt down to examine the edge. "You're right," he confirmed, running a finger along where the dais met the floor, and then again where the altar met the dais. "It's all one piece, except for the glass in the 'windows'." Standing, he leaned over to examine the top of the altar, which held a few tools, also carved of stone, though they were separate pieces rather than part of the altar. They looked familiar, and Warren reached into his satchel to pull out the folder that Powers had given them. "Oh, hey, I have my bag. Guess they didn't strip us of everything?" He reached in again and grabbed a couple of water bottles, tossing them to Will and Layla, before pulling out a third for himself. "I've got some granola bars, too, but if we're down here for very long, food might be an issue." As Will and Layla joined him, he put the folder down on the altar and began flipping through it, settling on a photocopy of a photograph. "Okay, yeah, here it is. This must be where they performed the original ritual. See? The tools match, and that looks like the altar beneath them."

"Well, it can't be time for the ritual," Will said. "I mean, we've only done the first trial, right?"

"Which means that whatever we're down her for is the second trial," Layla agreed. "So I guess figuring it out is part of it." She ran her hand along the surface of the altar. "Do you see any tool marks?" she asked, finally. "I mean, this was carved, we think, right? But I don't see any sign that the stone's actually been worked."

"No, you're right." Warren leaned over the altar, looking at it more closely. "It's perfectly smooth. You think someone with powers did this?"

Will scoffed. "I don't know about you, but I've never heard of someone who could, what, shape stone? Not on this scale. It would take Stonesmith years to manage something like this."

"And that's only if the cavern itself was already here," Warren agreed. "No, this is something else. Whatever there was before the Pillar." He looked over at Layla, meeting her eyes; they were wide with shock, like she couldn't believe where Warren was taking this but unable to draw any other conclusion. "It's what you were saying before the lights went out. I think we all assumed, back when Sharon was first telling us about this, that without the Pillar, there'd be no powers. Nothing at all. But that can't be right, or the ritual would never have worked in the first place. Which means there's something. Something that people can use to power a ritual that binds someone to reality itself.

"I think, before there were superpowers, that there was magic."

Chapter Text

Sharon Powers sat at her desk, a crystal ball on a wrought iron stand placed on top of her desk blotter. Despite the lack of any technological apparatus attached to it, images moved in its depths and sound came from it.

"--means there's something," Warren's voice said. "Something that people can use to power a ritual that binds someone to reality itself. I think, before there were superpowers, that there was magic."

"What?" Will's voice scoffed. "There's no such thing as magic."

From her doorway, someone said, "I'm a little surprised they figured it out so quickly." The man behind the voice stepped through, his broad frame carried with unexpected grace. "Although perhaps that's unjust of me."

Sharon nodded absently. "They are your friends, Spex," she pointed out. "Surely you must have some kind of faith in them, or you'd have objected when I suggested them."

The gadgeteer settled into one of the visitor chairs, leaning forward to watch the scene unfolding in the crystal ball. "I will never figure out how you're still managing to make that work," he said, in lieu of responding. "Magic shouldn't work while the Pillar's in place, right?"

"For the most part, yes," she confirmed, laughing, "but... well. There are benefits to being me. And the ritual to name the new Pillar won't work without it." Sharon grinned at him. "Some things, you just need to take on faith."

Spex rolled his eyes. "Fucking magic. I still can't believe you called me in on this. What do I know about magic? What does anyone alive other than, well, you?"

"There are still a few people around from back then," she pointed out. "Layla's great-grandmother is still alive, and she's been invaluable in putting this plan in place, even if I didn't have the heart to tell her that Layla was a candidate. But, you're right, those with any knowledge of it are few and far between, not least because it wasn't public knowledge at the time, either. In their absence, I needed people close to the candidates. They have many acquaintances and colleagues, but you're one of the few who, I believe, they will actually name friend. Ethan is currently operating in Europe, Magenta is off-the-grid and her whereabouts are intentionally unknown, and I don't believe even Will would ask Mr. Braun to keep a secret of this nature. If we could pull him away from his chain of tanning salons long enough to involve him in the first place."

Spex grumbled, but nodded. "It'd be nice to have Maj actually around for this."

"Well, her duties require that she be elsewhere," Sharon said. "Now, if you don't mind? I believe this might be coming to a head."

Standing from the chair, Spex nodded. "I'll leave you to it. Let me know when you need me again." He closed the door as he walked out, and Sharon turned back to what was unfolding in the sphere.

Chapter Text

"What?" Will scoffed. "There's no such thing as magic."

Layla nodded slowly. "I mean, you're right, but... that doesn't mean there wasn't, right? The entire point of the Pillar is that they anchor reality to a principle that doesn't normally exist. There's no reason that this couldn't replace some kind of magic. It kind of makes more sense, even, because that means that our powers don't come from nowhere, they just... work differently than they would have before?"

A voice from, seemingly, nowhere intoned, "Well done." Like before, it was familiar, although this one was feminine, and held a hint of snark. "You've passed the second trial."

"Oh, please, don't turn off the lights again," Will moaned. Instead, though, light shimmered into existence not far from where they stood, spiralling outwards and coruscating upwards to form a pillar that flattened into a doorway.

"Step through," the voice said again, "and you'll have the opportunity to find answers to your questions."

Layla frowned, even as she stepped towards the portal. "It's interesting that you didn't say learn the answers to them," she said, before she walked through the light and disappeared.

"Hey, wait for me!" Will scrambled after her, leaving Warren to gather up the papers and slide the folder back into his satchel.

He glanced upwards, as much as the voice didn't really seem to be coming from any one direction. "It's good to hear your voice, Maj. Don't be a stranger after all of this is done." The only response he got was an indignant squeak; if she said anything further, it was lost in the rush as he stepped into the light.

It was a strange transition. Warren had been blipped around by teleporting heroes before, and each one had a signature to their movement that made each one's feeling unique, but this was something else: like he was stepping through warmth, thick without being cloying. It felt cozy, almost -- like being wrapped in a blanket next to a roaring fire. And he was stepping through it; even the portals he'd used before, by those heroes who could create them, were either instantaneous, or it moved him along under its own power. This was like walking through some kind of passage or hallway.

And then he was on the other side, and the portal was still glowing behind him until it faded away with a whirl and a snap.

"Are we... in Sky High's library?" Will asked, looking around in confusion.

Snorting, Warren shoved Will's shoulder good-naturedly. "I'm surprised you recognise it. Not like you spent any time here."

"Ha, ha, ha." Will shoved back, although he reined in his strength when he did so, only sending Warren stumbling a step or two. "I came here! Uh, once or twice. No, I just-- I recognised the whir." He stomped lightly, and Warren realised what he meant.

"Oh, the levitation engines," Layla said, confirming Warren's realisation. "No, you're right. And..." She glanced back at where the portal had been. "Did you realise, we could feel it back there, too? Wherever that 'church' is, it's on Sky High. Or in it."

"Or under it." Warren glanced down. "Beneath the school, maybe? In the rock that it was pulled from."

Will, meanwhile, had wandered over to one of the shelves. "Something's weird about this, though," he said, knocking on the wall behind the shelf. "I don't know, it's... You don't notice anything?"

Warren looked around, trying to figure out what Will meant. "It's... huh." His eyes widened, and he looked at the ceiling. "No skylights. No windows. The library's all open-plan. Layla, did they renovate it recently?"

"No, no, they didn't," she confirmed, whirling the shelf behind her. Like most of the shelves around them, it held binders and coil-bound booklets; nothing out of the ordinary for the Sky High library, although it was odd that there wasn't anything more traditionally-bound alongside them. "I think this is a hidden room." She began pulling things from the shelf, passing them to Will and Warren who laid them out on the table in the middle of the room. "Which must mean that, whatever's in here, it's being kept secret for some reason."

Will was already paging through the binders and booklets, setting them almost as quickly as he could open them. "This is all too recent, I think," he explained. "Studies of how powers work, that kind of thing. Some pretty in-depth stuff, way beyond me, but nothing about what might have happened, uh, before."

"Same here," Warren confirmed, closing the cover on another binder. "Layla? Any luck?"

Their wife had moved to another shelf and, taking into consideration Will and Warren's words, started taking a little more care in examining what she was pulling from the shelves. "This one's all about teleportation and levitation," she said, "so the same thing... There's got to be something."

Will had stood from the table and gone back to another shelf. "Hey, this one has, like. Journals and stuff?" He pulled a couple from the shelves, passing them to Layla and Warren, before grabbing another. "When was Sky High founded again?"

"1922, although it wasn't actually Sky High yet at that point." Layla frowned at the journal she'd been handed. "This one's too late, it's from the fifties. Anyway, it got renamed Sky High when The Gadgeteer built the first version of the levitation engines in the mid-forties. Sharon took on the role of principal around the same time."

Warren blinked. "That's-- like, what. A hundred years, almost? How has this all been kept secret this long?"

Shrugging, Will grabbed a couple more journals from the shelf. "People don't notice what they don't want to," he pointed out. "That's, like, heroing 101. 201, maybe. I mean, honestly, how long did it take me to realise that you're bisexual? How long did it take me to realise that I'm bisexual? You pretty much had to kiss me before I even clued in, and even that almost didn't work."

"I still say you should have gotten photographic evidence of it." Layla smirked. "I mean, my husbands' first kiss with each other, and I don't get to see it?"

"Well, we weren't exactly your husbands at the time," Warren pointed out. He ducked her half-hearted swing. "You're right though, Will. I mean, not that I didn't want to realise anything, but... why would it even occur to us to question it, right?"

Will nodded absently, his attention drawn by the journal in his hands as he flipped through it. "Oh, hey, I think this one's-- yeah, this is 1921! I think-- Hey, Layla, your great-grandmother's name was Delilah, right? I think this journal's talking about her." He put the book down on the table so that all three of them could lean over it. The page said:

on Thursday. Delilah and Tiffany have plans to examine the cavern we've discovered this coming weekend, although I must admit to some discomfort at the idea. I've recommended that they ask Ezekiel for assistance, as he is far more adept with transportation circles than either of them, or, to be perfectly honest, than I am myself, but that would require waiting another three weeks as he's been called west to assist with another difficult birth. What great fortune that our most adept mover-of-people is also the one most frequently called away.

All of that said, however, and regardless when they head down, if the cavern is suitable, then we'll begin the shaping as soon as the week following the investigation. With Tiffany's dab hand at stonework, we are set to begin preparations for the ritual as soon as next week-end. All that remains is to locate a suitable subject to take on the principal role. The fact that the prospective cavern is beneath the grounds of the academy is a boon, especially as regards our ability to keep our preparations secret, but all will be for naught if we cannot find someone appropriate to take on the role of Pillar.

"Who wrote this?" Warren asked, puzzling through the cursive; it had been a while since he'd had to read it, and he kept getting thrown by the shapes of some of the letters.

Will flipped back to the front of the book. "Uh, someone named Skylar Worthington? I think there might be a couple more of his journals." Layla snatched the journal from his hands, ignoring Will's indignant, "Hey!"

She shot him a quick apologetic shrug. "Sorry, it's-- Skylar Worthington, as in Worthington Preparatory Academy for Young Men? That's the original name of Sky High, although they started accepting women after just a couple of years. They changed it to Skylar Worthington High School in the thirties, and then it became Sky High when they levitated it. Although it was probably a nickname long before it became official."

Warren and Will shared a long look; Will placed a hand on Layla's shoulder. "Layla, I love you, we love you, but why on Earth do you know all that?"

She rolled her eyes at them. "Forgive me for paying attention in history class."

"It does help us, though," Warren pointed out. "We're on the right track. Or, probably, anyway. Can we find any of his earlier journals? Maybe he talks about why they wanted to do the ritual in the first place."

Earlier journals are easily come by, going back to 1917, and the trio pass them out and begin reading. It's Will who finally looks up, grinning. "I think I've got it! March 12, 1918.

Today marks yet another setback in our quest to equalise the aetheric energies. The upstart Crowley's disastrous attempts at magic and ritual have caused a great disruption, not least in his writings bringing knowledge of magic to the general public. To those, at least, who listen to his mad ravings, although even two followers would be two too many.

I've discussed the matter with a Mrs. Tiffany Poirier, an acquaintance through mutual friends, and someone whom I chanced to meet while on my weekly pilgrimage to the Lady Diane's shop. While either of us could have been making innocent purchases, I made note of her selection of a particularly noteworthy quartz. Oblique references to my own esoteric practice, and to my ownership of a similarly noteworthy specimen and the strange images one could 'almost imagine' spying within, and we established our own shared practice of ritual. She agrees with me, overall, and wishes to bring in a close friend of hers, Miss Delilah van den Hoek, who has a singular knack with plants. Ezekiel is hesitant, although I fear he may simply be holding on to outdated and foolish notions about the capacities of the fairer sex. Certainly Mrs. Poirier seems most capable, although I suppose the truest test will be once we attempt a collaborative working.

Nonetheless, the point stands: the energies must be drawn into equilibrium, whether in defence against Crowley and his cronies or purely to ensure their stability in this fastly-advancing time. Technology proceeds apace, and magic must keep up or we risk losing it entirely.

Will passes the journal over to Layla, who flips forward a few pages, but Warren's already nodding. "So... there definitely was magic. That's a thing we're accepting at this point, right? Even if there's not anymore. This ritual, the Pillar, everything: it's all about 'equalising the aetheric energies'. They did all this because magic was going to disappear completely if they didn't."

"And now our own superpowers, superpowers in general, could do the same." Layla put the book down, her expression serious. "I'm willing to do this. Even if you two aren't... One of us needs to take this on."

Warren looked away, unable to meet her eyes, while Will rocked on his stool. Rocking too far, he tumbled, with a cry, to the ground. "Will, are you okay?" Layla exclaimed, but Will just stared at the stool. "... Will?"

After a long moment, still looking at the stool, he asked, "Do you remember, back in Super Science, when we were learning about how you need three legs on something to be stable?"

Layla and Warren shared a look. "Uh, sure, Will," Warren said, "but I'm not sure why that's relevant right now."

"Well, Skylar, and Tiffany, and your great-grandmother, they wrote this ritual, right?" Will asked, to his spouse's nods. "They designed it, from the ground up, to work with what they knew. What's to stop us from doing the same?"

It hit Layla and Warren at the same time. "Three-" she started, and he finished, "-legs!"

Grinning, Will nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly! I mean, maybe there's something I just don't know about it that would stop it, because God knows there is so much I don't know about, like, everything, but is there any reason we can't just... all be Pillars?"

A chime sounded, coming from nowhere and everywhere, and laughter, bright and masculine and familiar, followed it. "Dude, I can't believe you figured that out! Even Principal Powers didn't think that was a possibility! She was betting on Layla, by the way, but I totally thought that my man Will would be the one. Stronghold? Pillar? Holding things up? Totally makes sense!"

"Hi, Zach," Warren said, suppressing a groan. Of all of the friends he'd had in high school, Zach was certainly someone he knew.

"Warren, my man! Congrats on the win on the last trial, I totally thought it would take y'all way longer to get to the whole magic thing. I mean, really, magic? Who would ever consider magi-"

Zach's voice cut off, only to be replaced by Powers. "Allow me to offer my own congratulations on passing your trials," she said. "Pull the third journal from the left on the shelf above Worthington's and the door will open to the rest of the library. I'd appreciate it if you'd then join me in my office." There wasn't a click, or anything noticeable to end the connection, but the sense of someone or something there faded away quickly. Shrugging at his partners, Warren reached over and tugged on the journal in question, and a segment of wall opened outwards into the bright, sunny library, late afternoon light streaming in through the windows.

"Well, we have our answers," Layla said, nodding decisively. "I guess we go-- ask what happens next." Hand-in-hand, the trio left the secret room. It closed up behind them, guarding its secrets once more, as they walked through the library, and the halls, of the school that may just be about to become their own.

Chapter Text

Layla and Will were laughing as they ran around the altar, Layla dodging Will's attempt to smear her with the blue paint covering his hands. "Will, no!" she cried, although it was easy to tell that there was no heat in it. "Not in this dress!"

"Oh, please, it's plant-based," Will countered. "You'll talk it out of the dress long before it can stain."

Warren chuffed softly before turning back to the podium they'd placed at the entrance to the Sky High auditorium. The seating chart had been finished three days before, but he still wasn't certain about placing Will's parents at the table next to his mother... and to his father, newly released and, theoretically, rehabilitated. As much as their romantic relationship was long over, his parents had rekindled a friendship that Warren still didn't understand; Will's father, meanwhile, seemed intent on catching the former Baron Battle -- "Please, call me Raymond," the man had insisted, seeing Warren struggle over the word 'Dad'. "I haven't been a father to you, so I don't expect you to treat me like one now." -- in some nefarious act.

"And to think," Sharon said beside him, suddenly -- they'd all finally come around to addressing her by her first name, even if it had taken the last month of working on the ritual preparations to do it -- and only long practice kept him from jumping. "Not only have you married them, you're going to ritually bind yourself to them."

"Yeah, well," Warren said, turning to give her a wry grin, "they grow on you. Like a fungus. A violently poisonous fungus."

The conversation in Sharon's office, after the trials, had been... enlightening. Revelations had been swiftly forthcoming about exactly how long the plan had been in place (literal years, going back to their time as students at Sky High), who was involved (every single one of their friends -- all four of them, but still -- as well as Layla's great-grandmother Delilah, although there'd been some delight learning that none of them had known about each other's involvement), and exactly how much Sharon had put all of her eggs in one basket by not accounting for any other possible Pillar-Elects (which put them under absolutely no pressure whatsoever, of course not, please ignore Will freaking out in the corner). Sharon had marveled at their decision to take on the role together, but had been cautiously optimistic about the possibility; Delilah's confirmation that it was a perfectly reasonable idea had eliminated any caution, and her knowledge of the original ritual -- and her own detailed notes, kept safe in journals in the attic of Layla's childhood home -- had given them what they needed to rewrite it for their own purposes, and for the modern age.

Opening it up to the public had been Layla's idea, originally, although Will had supported it immediately. "This is a part of our history," Layla had explained, "and as much as I understand why it was secret to begin with, and why it's been kept secret, I won't go into this lying to the people we care about. They deserve to know what Skylar, and my great-grandmother, and Tiffany and Ezekiel, did for them. It may not be what it was before the Pillar, but they saved magic, and it gave us all these gifts, and..."

Warren had placed his hand over hers, grinning. "Fine, you've convinced me. Just don't make me wear a tux."

So, rather than sneaking their way into the ritual hall beneath Sky High, the ritual was taking place in the Sky High auditorium. Sharon was 'officiating'; as the Pillar, her presence connected to the magic-that-was that would allow it work in the first place. Since they were basically rewriting the ritual from the ground up anyway, they'd decided to include Ethan, Magenta, Zach, and Spex. Delilah had even thought it made more sense than trying to match to elemental powers, once the idea had been broached. Since the entire point of the Pillar was to anchor the very principle of superpowers over the energies that had once been magical power, including superpowers outside of the magic-like elemental abilities should make the results stronger, not weaker.

And so, here they were, the day of the ritual, and Warren had never been so nervous in his life.

As if Sharon could read his thoughts -- and, really, Warren couldn't discount the idea; it's not like people hadn't hidden secondary powers before he knew that she was an alien empowered by magic -- she rolled her eyes at him. "You're going to be fine. Besides, you were my first choice for the role, if I'd thought I could ever convince you to do it on your own. I knew Layla is the only one that would have done it without the rest of you, but if you would have... Well." She grinned. "I've always known you'd be an excellent teacher. Even back when you were a student."

"What, me?" Warren shook his head. "Even though I was the half-villain bad boy who most people thought was going to burn down the school at the first excuse?"

Sharon was silent for a moment before shaking her head. "No. Because of that. As far as we've come with the prejudice about villains, and about sidekicks, we still have a long way to go, and you know intimately what it's like to be told that you can only live down to something, not live up to it."

Flushing, and wishing he could blame his powers for it, Warren ducked his head. "Yeah, well. If it wasn't for Will and Layla, I would never..."

Sharon snorted uncharacteristically. "Yes, you would have. Long hair and a leather jacket doesn't a villain make, Warren. Anger might, but your anger was mostly about your father. It would have pushed you away from him and what he represented. Besides, never underestimate the power of spite as a motivator; it may not have been quite so soon, but you'd have become a hero just to prove everyone wrong about you. And now look at you."

"Now look at me," he agreed, finally meeting her eyes. "And so what about you? What are your next plans?"

As best as everyone could tell, Sharon's discorporation would be expedited by the ritual, and by her relinquishing the role of Pillar. She hadn't talked about it much, but Warren still thought she'd been entirely too casual about it. Will had refused to think about it, but Layla pointed out that Sharon had been living in her current body for far longer than any of them really knew; Sharon had held that form by the time she'd met Skylar Worthington, but she'd never let on exactly when she'd taken on her physical form, nor what had let her to do so in the first place. "Honestly, it sounds more like she's just... retiring. Besides, she said she'll stick around to help us through the transition, and she can't do that if this is going to be some kind of, what, traumatic experience?"

Warren's question seemed to take Sharon aback. "What, you mean after you three are all settled in?" At Warren's nod, she shrugged. "I've thought about going home," she admitted, "but I don't really know what I'd be going back to. It's been-- well. Creating the Grand Canyon may have been time-travel, but it's still been over ten thousand years since I first landed on Earth. Who knows what I'd be going back to?"

Warren picked up the seating chart from where he'd dropped it in his shock, straightening out the shuffled papers. "Uh. Ten thousand?" She just smirked at him, and he mustered up the courage to say, "Well, you don't look a day over eighty-five hundred."

Laughing, she grabbed the seating charts out of Warren's hands and placed them back on the podium. "Thank you, Warren. And here I thought I'd been showing my age." She pulled him away from the entrance, leading him to the stage, where blue was smeared down the front of Layla's shirt, although only until she raised her hands, drew it out, and flung it in Will's face. "It's almost time, Warren. Are you ready?"

Glancing over his shoulder at Sharon, he just shrugged. "Y'know? I think maybe I am."