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The light of a firefly sets darkness aglow.
It’s because they carry fire in their tiny hearts, Marshall muses, as one blinks before him to mourn the dying sun. But you’re projecting way too much into ordinary things. He shakes his head to disperse nonsensical thoughts. Just answer Gumball’s summon. He knows what’s happening.
The path to the Candy Kingdom remains the same—ever unchanging but ever winding. The only difference is the umbral shadows of night clawing through the meadow. He’s familiar with bumping shoulders with the dark and tumbling with the demons. But tonight, skeletons fail to pluck at their bones like a kalimba, and the air breathes an icy breath. Marshall wonders if it’s something other than his presence swathing all light and life in a tenebrous gloom.
Something sinister lurks in the dark but Marshall accepts it as an invitation to investigate. The shackles of fear that ordinary people face don’t apply to him. Besides, anyone threatening his starless domain would answer him first.
“Chariot of the night, answer my plight.” Marshall draws a sigil in the air with his index finger. “I’m in need of a vehicle and helping me would be ethereal.”
When Marshall calls on the mistress of night, a dark portal opens.
Immediately, his skin blisters hot with pain.
He glances down at his arm to see a gangly limb seize him. Marshall’s eyes meet ghoulish ones, and he hisses out in pain. “What—”
“Aren’t you cold?”
Marshall’s body chills over, thoughts and emotions dimming. Get it together! You can best this fool. In haste, he wrenches his left arm back. With his other hand, Marshall summons and swings his axe, cleaving the miasma in two. The pair of disembodied eyes suspend in the air for a moment longer, as if registering the hostile intent behind Marshall’s strike.
Those eyes coldly pass over him in silence. When it speaks, the low rumble of its voice worms itself into Marshall’s mind.
“Marshall…aren’t you…cold…?”
Only when the Lich vanishes into smoke does Marshall’s heart catch fire.
After the gates of the Candy Kingdom clang shut behind him, Marshall hurries to tug down his sleeves. He grimaces. Not because the candy guards rush him to the castle, but because his wound burns like a stake to the heart.
It takes less than ten minutes for Gumball to receive him, pour tea, and sit down.
Although the pulse of evil beats weakly, the air bloats with tension. For once, unease and gravity pull Marshall’s feet to the ground. He follows Gumball’s lead by sinking into the plush mahogany chair across from him.
If all shadows cower around a flame, what did they have to fear? Fear rarely lays siege on Marshall’s heart. But when Gumball’s hands lock together in thought beneath his chin, his pensive expression immobilizes Marshall into place.
“Is our strength enough to defeat the Lich?”
Gumball’s admission to fear makes Marshall’s wound sting further. Marshall swallows and forces a laugh.
“Hey. If the light of a firefly can set darkness alight, then we have a chance. Gumball. Just trust me. I can—”
“You don’t have to fight the Lich alone. We can—”
“Don’t underestimate the power of a king,” Marshall says coolly, without heat. He wisely conceals his encounter from earlier. Gumball already has enough on his plate. Organizing the Banana Guards, casting another protective barrier—he’s straining himself right now. “Besides, I owe Fionna one. I’m not doing this to save your gummy butt, okay? I’m doing this because I’ll have one less napping spot if the castle disappears.”
The corner of Gumball’s mouth twitches. Marshall braces himself for an explosion when the prince of propriety shoots him a look. Suddenly, the taut cord of Gumball’s lips upturns.
“Ever the comedian, aren’t you?” Soft words dissolve into a light laugh. Gumball picks up his cup, but he doesn’t drink his tea.
“Yours truly, you know.” Marshall grins and relaxes his grip on the armchair. “I think my bubblegum prince should trust me more.”
Gumball continues. “Okay—I trust you, Marshall. But I want you to take this.”
Gumball lifts himself from the chair and strides to the corner of his room. He gestures for Marshall to follow, and Marshall rises, floating steadily to the crouching prince. Hovering around him, Marshall peers over his shoulder and spies a wooden chest full of artifacts.
He scoots back as Gumball stands and turns around. Palms facing out, Gumball presents the item to Marshall.
An iridescent gem—shimmering deep with aquamarine—dangles from a gold chain in Gumball’s hands. The image of a jewelry maker comes to mind. Marshall imagines them cutting the gem into an oval shape and pouring the color of the ocean into it. The glimmer alone mesmerizes him.
Gumball’s seriously giving me this? What am I, his champion? His knight? Well…it’s not SO bad but it IS a bit much.
“Take this amulet.” Gumball presses it into his hand. “This gem will protect you from the Lich’s mind control.”
“I won’t succumb that easily, you know.” Marshall holds the gold chain between his thumb and index finger, swinging it like a pendulum.
“Don’t underestimate the Lich, Marshall,” Gumball says gravely. “If the Lich can put our seasoned adventurer, Fionna, out of commission—I’ll worry about you too.”
Marshall stares at him. The way Gumball sets his jaw when he’s nervous, the way his brow knits together in concern—Marshall finally parses that he’s living in the reality of an unprecedented calamity.
“I will be a ruler in name only if I can’t protect my people. So I ask you this, Marshall.” Gumball—no, Prince Gumball—looks to him, not as a friend, but as one sovereign to the next. “Will you lend me your strength to protect this kingdom and the world beyond it? I know we don’t always see eye to eye. But if we don’t stop the Lich here, he will ravage your domain next.”
Marshall gazes at him, seeing the prince’s eyes burn with conviction, sincerity, and trust. His voice is firm, and nothing about him wavers. Marshall stares at him and blinks. This may be their first and last war council together. For a moment, he imagines the crown above their heads, and how the royal regalia catches sunlight and the kingdom’s burdens. They are vassals to the crown, but Gumball bends the knee for peace. But what of Marshall?
Quietly, Marshall slips on the necklace. The cool gem presses against his clavicle, and for a wink of a moment, he wonders if he feels someone’s fingers sliding between his for comfort. When he glances at his hands, there’s nothing but air and tension between them.
“Yeah, I will,” Marshall finally answers. “Besides, I’ll show you what it means to be a king. You still have a lot to learn, Gumball. The glitter of eternity doesn’t mean darkness is forever. Should I fall here, the Nightosphere probably deserves someone more like you.”
Marshall offers a wry smile. But Gumball grabs his wrist and startles him.
“Don’t say that, Marshall. As respective sovereigns to the throne, we need only conviction to guide us and a softness that we call humanity to rule.”
Marshall covers the prince’s hand with his own and grins. Whether it’s nerves or proximity, his heart beats like a hummingbird’s wings.
“Heh. We’re really different, you know?”
“Even so, I can tell that your warmth is real. Be safe, Marshall.”
Gumball’s hand lingers on his wrist until he withdraws it, taking the warmth with him. He clears his throat and directs his gaze to the wooden chest again.
“We’ve dallied for too long. I should let you know that the Gumball Guardian is about to intercept the Lich as we speak.”
“I know. For a moment, it sounded like you cared for me,” Marshall teases.
“I care for all of my friends and citizens.” Gumball huffs. He kneels and rummages through the chest again, objects clinking together. “If the Guardian falls, you’re our last line of defense.”
“I know.”
Gumball’s voice softens. “Don’t be reckless.”
“I know.”
“The wound on your arm will heal since my spell activates by touch. I know you’re hurt. Earlier, I saw you through the window.”
“Huh—”
“And when you fight, you’re not alone. You have this.” Gumball offers Marshall another boon—a pair of black leather gloves. “They enhance your strength when you wear them. While I don’t doubt your abilities, the Lich is on an entirely different level.”
The Vampire King slips them on. Holding out his hands, the leather catches light. He flexes his fingers, then curls his hand into a fist. The gloves emit a faint glow, as if appraising him. Marshall whistles in approval.
He takes a step back and swings his arm in a wide arc.
“Whoa!” Gumball scoots away from him, taking refuge behind the wooden chest. “Warn me before doing that, thank you!”
“Sorry, Gumball. Just testing this out. Here, stand up.” Marshall extends his hand to the prince. Gumball hesitantly obliges and Marshall pulls him to his feet. Just then, Marshall dimly realizes something. Instead of the gallant gesture Marshall envisions in his mind, he miscalculates the power of the gloves, and yanks Gumball with tenfold of his strength towards him.
With enough clarity, Marshall stumbles back to catch him.
“What did I just say?!”
They collide into each other, in a tangle of limbs and shock, and plummet into the plush carpet. Marshall opens his eyes, and it’s the first time in years since the trace sweetness of bubblegum touches his lips. He’s much sweeter than I thought.
As Gumball regains his bearings, seemingly unaware of that minute encounter, Marshall falls flat on his back and raises his palms outward in apology.
“I swear by my grave that I did not mean to do that.” Marshall’s face heats like a furnace, and he recognizes the limits of his foolishness. “I know we were having a serious moment. That was bad. I’m really, really sorry.”
“I wish you would take this more seriously!” Gumball’s voice rises as he lifts himself from Marshall’s chest.
“Um, Gumball. Are you, uh, upset?”
Gumball tips backwards and plops onto the ground. Marshall scrambles onto his hands and knees, crawling to the prince and peeking meekly at him.
“You’re so. Unbelievable.” Gumball buries his face in his hands, mumbling words and shaking his head. The crown rolls away, bumps into a chair leg, and stills.
“I’m sorry.”
“To think the world might end and you have the audacity to be so flippant about it. I wish—” Gumball breathes deeply and throws his arms on the floor beside him— “I wish I could carry these burdens with that grace.”
“I’m sorry?” Marshall fails to conceal the bewilderment in his tone. “Is that a compliment?”
“Yes. It is. It’s a genuine declaration of our friendship. You’re so incredible to remain cool under these circumstances. I’m really scared, you know.”
“Scared, huh?” Marshall sits beside him and examines the black leather gloves again. Well, I’m scared too.
“Yes. Scared of losing the kingdom. Of losing you. We’re friends. But I don’t think friends should be asking each other to march into the literal face of death.”
Marshall glances at Gumball. Even without his crown, time makes gentle creases on his face, and they simultaneously become too young and too old to walk and dream on this land.
“To live a thousand years must be enough,” Marshall murmurs, dimly realizing something. He climbs to his feet—much to Gumball’s surprise—and walks to an open window. Darkness engulfs the Candy Kingdom, but he knows nightmares aren’t forever. “I don’t mind having a life as long as the Lich's. But I wouldn’t mind giving up my life for another thousand years of peace.”
Marshall places both hands on the window jambs and places one foot on the sill. He glances over his shoulder and grins at Gumball.
“My bubblegum prince should have more faith in me.”