Nekron had appeared. Thea wasn't about to rush over and start the fight herself.
Counting herself, Diana, the seven Lantern leaders, and Barry—currently sprinting around Coast City on reconnaissance—that was ten. Ten people against Nekron, who was the kind of endgame boss that required the entire roster.
If forty allies weren't enough, they'd bring four hundred. This was about getting everyone to step up. Earth wasn't her property.
She extended her senses outward, mapped everyone's position, located the Flash, and teleported the group to the helicarrier for a final war council.
The man issuing orders from the bridge—eyepatch, no-nonsense expression, growing more authoritative by the day—looked increasingly like a certain bald, one-eyed individual from the neighboring universe. Thea listened to him dispatching commands and felt a quiet surge of satisfaction at her own eye for talent.
Diggle's circumstances were considerably better than the original timeline, where he'd been unemployed, living off his wife, babysitting, and tagging along on Green Arrow's misadventures. She was rather pleased with how things had turned out.
The helicarrier was crowded with heroes. Some could fly under their own power but not as fast as the ship—and it offered rest, resupply, and critical backup. Most importantly, the cloaking systems were excellent.
Apart from Superman, who feared nothing and went where he pleased, practically every active hero was here.
The Justice League. Justice League International. The women's Justice League. Amanda Waller's Suicide Squad. And a contingent of younger heroes—Red Robin, Wonder Girl, Damian, Raven, Beast Boy, Blue Beetle, among others.
"Wait—what are they doing here?" The Flash stared at several familiar faces—his Central City "neighbors."
Captain Cold. Heat Wave. Weather Wizard—pardoned after the New Continent rainfall event. Captain Cold's sister, Golden Glider. And Mirror Master, the man who walked through glass.
"We're here to help," Captain Cold said flatly, then closed his eyes and didn't speak again.
Help. Sure. They were here to hide, and Thea knew it. Central City's dimensional barriers were wide open, with Black Lanterns popping out at random intervals. Cisco, Caitlin, Wally West, and Bart Allen had joined forces with the Earth-2 heroes and were holding the line over there.
She didn't call them out. Captain Cold's crew weren't bad people. They lived by a code: never kill unless absolutely necessary, never harm women or children. Their primary occupation was playing cat-and-mouse with the Flash; their side hustle was the occasional bank robbery—and honestly, any mid-level banker or economist tapping a keyboard moved more money faster. These people were basically harmless.
Pulling Diana aside, Thea was heading to meet with the League when two figures appeared in the corridor. "Constantine—Zatanna—what are you doing here? Is the New Continent under attack?"
Constantine looked terrible. Zatanna handled the explanation. "The New Continent's fine. But we've heard a few old friends came back."
Too many resurrections to track individually. Thea asked casually, "Who?"
"Several members of the Cult of the Cold Flame who'd been killed previously. Sargon the Sorcerer. Tannarak the Great Alchemist. And... someone spotted my father."
"Giovanni Zatara?"
Zatanna nodded.
"Also Nick Necro and Felix Faust," Constantine added.
Five resurrected magic-users at once gave Thea pause. Felix Faust was her kill. Nick Necro had nothing to do with her—he was Constantine and Zatanna's "old friend."
That yellow trenchcoat Constantine wore, the one with the absurdly high magic resistance—it had originally belonged to Nick Necro.
But these people were no longer worth her concern. What the mundane world called a "great mage" and what she called a "great mage" weren't even in the same category.
After brief consideration, she summoned five hundred spell-breakers from New Genesis's magical corps. Whether the target was a Black Lantern or a resurrected sorcerer, five hundred spell-breakers would be more than enough.
Highfather didn't bother with matters this small. The reinforcements arrived almost instantly—a boom tube opened and five hundred armored, gleaming magical warriors reported for duty.
Thea gave Zatanna a look: This should do it, yes? Forget your father rising from the dead—even if your family's legendary ancestor Da Vinci crawled out of his grave, these soldiers could put him right back in.
With confirmation that Thea had returned with the seven Lanterns, Superman entered the helicarrier as well. Everyone shared intelligence, and in the end, there wasn't much to discuss. The enemy was at the doorstep. Time to fight.
Everything was still running along the original timeline's tracks. The Black Lantern Central Power Battery had landed on Earth—specifically in Coast City. The city that Parallax had half-destroyed years ago, rebuilt from the ground up, was now a sea of corpses. Countless Black Lanterns infested every street.
At the city center, before the towering Black Lantern battery, several figures stood.
Hovering in the air was the renegade Guardian, Scar. Black chains still bound her seven former colleagues.
Nearby, a twitchy man—William Hand, codenamed Black Hand—cradled two skeletons in his arms, muttering to himself.
And at the center of it all stood a tall figure.
He had thin, patchy white hair, skin mottled with dark spots, a body like a walking corpse, and black robes. Massive shackles hung from his wrists and neck—long since shattered—and in his hands was a scythe.
The scythe seemed to drink light. It was blacker than black, and even a casual glance at it sent a person's heart hammering, as though they'd glimpsed the end of all things.
Even from miles away, Nekron's presence was unmistakable. Stillness. Thea took a moment to study his nature, to understand the road he walked. His doctrine was death in stillness. Death in silence.
Born in peace. Die in peace. No turbulence, no passion—only a process as mechanical as code. Every sentient life, in his eyes, was a grain of sand in a river, carried downstream, leaving no trace. The sand was virtually inexhaustible, but he didn't care. All he required was that they complete the journey quietly.
Thea frowned, absorbing the philosophy. Nekron's concept of death differed from hers, but even without walking his path, there was value in observation.
The other heroes lacked her level of perception. Diana, however, understood that her partner was pushing deeper into the soul divine seat's territory. She worried, sometimes, that Thea would drift toward a darker road—planned to bring it up next time they were alone together. But now, with the enemy at hand, she said nothing.
The seven Lanterns were first off the helicarrier. They were ordinary beings, and all they could feel was a cold that sank to the bone. The scythe-wielding figure felt like their natural predator.
"Is he a lantern entity?" Carol Ferris had seen the Violet entity, Predator, and the comparison seemed natural.
Thea gave a quiet laugh. "He isn't. He's death itself—the embodiment of life's ending."
That was almost philosophical enough to make the seven Lanterns' heads spin. Only the magic-users—Constantine and Zatanna—felt they'd caught a glimmer of understanding.