#cycle 99

[cycle99-official]

Coming June, 2026

May Fate's four winds carry you back to our skies again soon.

[basilikum7]

Soooooo first fanart for @cycle99-official! Yes the chapter came out literally today. yes I'm already posting sketches. shhhhh I'm normal and have a reasonable amount of emotions about Thatch.

[umbraastaff]

Why didn't they put the Light of Creation into useful magical tools instead of weapons

[journalofimprobablethings]

Davenport wakes.

For a moment, he keeps his eyes closed, floating in a boundless void. He doesn't remember where he is or what he was doing before he fell asleep, but for a moment that's all right--it's familiar, this feeling, this moment of transition between sleep and waking. Just another moment, any second, then the fog will clear and he'll remember; the facts of his life will fall back into place.

He waits--but his head does not clear. Instead as he comes fully awake the fog descends further until his head buzzes with static and his thoughts splinter, words slipping away as he tries to grasp them, like--like--

Davenport opens his eyes, and then wishes he hadn't.

Everything he's looking at hurts his head. The ceiling isn't so bad: it is featureless, grey metal, nothing much to look at except a few seams and bolts where the pieces have been attached together. But even that makes him squint when he looks at it, like he's looking into the sun; something about it sends coronas across his vision. When he turns his head to look at the rest of the room, the feeling doubles; his stomach clenches with nausea and a spike a pain drives into his skull. He cries out and curls into a ball, clutching his head in his hands.

Through the pain, he dimly hears the sound of running feet, and then the door opens and someone else is there. 

"Captain!" she says, though he can barely hear her over his own harsh breathing. "Captain, look at me. Can you hear me?"

He looks up at the speaker. She's human, young, her curly hair pulled back from her face in a tight pouf. It's the same woman who was here earlier, before he went to sleep, when--when--when what?

He groans and closes his eyes as another wave of nausea washes over him. He can feel her hands fluttering over his shoulders, unsure, before settling gently in his back, rubbing in small, soothing circles.

"Please, Cap--Davenport, please just breathe. Just breathe." She is trying to be calm and soothing but her voice is choked with tears, and some part of him wants to reach out and comfort her, to tell her that everything will be all right. But the thought of moving right now is impossible, and even if he could, he can't find the words he would want to say; every time he tries the syllables all jumble together in his head into meaningless sound. The only word he can manage to hang onto is his name, the one she called him.

"Davenport," he whispers, clinging to it like a lifeline.

"Yes, yes, that's right," she says, a wild relief in her voice. "You're Davenport. It's Lucretia, Davenport, I'm right here. You're safe. Everything is going to be all right."

She continues in that vein, a steady stream of comforting nonsense that washes over him like water. He stays where he is, curled up on the bed, and tries to match his breathing to the rhythm of her words.

At some point, after he's calmed, the words change. She leans her forehead against his, gently, and whispers into the pillow. "I'm so sorry, Davenport. I didn't know this would happen; I never--I would never--I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

She sounds so sad, so defeated. His heart aches at the brokenness in her voice; there is something in him that feels a deep sense of responsibility, a need to take care of her. He opens his eyes, carefully. Her face is so close to his that it fills his vision, mercifully blocking out the room behind her. Her eyes are closed, and her forehead is creased, a small furrow of worry between her brows. He reaches up, gently presses his thumb into the crease to smooth it away. He still can't pull any words out of the fog in his brain, so he settles for the only one he has.

"Davenport," he says, trying to put as much comfort and warmth into his voice as he can.

His touch and the sound of his voice seem to break down the last of her composure. Her face crumples, and two twin lines of tears trace their way down her cheeks. Her hand, still resting on his back, clenches into a tight fist, and her whole body shakes with a single sob.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers again. "Oh, Dav, I--I don't know what to do. I don't--I don't know how to fix this."

She sobs again, and Davenport has no words to give her, no solutions to offer. He doesn't even know what is wrong, what she is trying to fix. He can only press his forehead against hers as she cries, and rest his hand on her back, copying her slow, soothing circles. 

Eventually, she wears herself out, and slips into an exhausted sleep, her head still resting on his pillow. Davenport lies still, keeping his eyes on her face, letting the rest of the room fade into soft focus. 

He doesn't know what is happening, what is wrong with his head, why she is so sad and so sorry. But whatever it is, Davenport is glad for her presence, the deep familiarity of it. He is glad, whatever is happening, that they have each other.

That whatever comes next, at least they're not alone.

[taz-quotes]

Taako: How’s it goin’?

Griffin: He says- you sort of wake him up, and he kinda like jumps with a start, and he’s like-

Barry: [tiredly] Oh sorry, I- sorry, so, um, anyway, there’s a… there's a dungeon out beyond the Felicity Wilds? It's a… subterranean… demonic keep… thing. There’s a bunch of arcane energy coming off of it. I was gonna check it out tonight, if you wanna come with.

Taako: Yeah, where were- remind me, how far is that in relation to the last glassing?

Barry: Um, I’ve triangulated it here.

Griffin: And he shows you the map and there's some black circles drawn on it, and it's pretty well within… it's fairly close to one of the circles.

Taako: Yeah, it seems like a good a place as any. Do you want to do the usual: I’ll go down and start casting around, see if I can pick up anything, and then- you start talking to folks?

Barry: Yep. That’s uh, I mean it hasn’t worked so far, but… it’s gotta work one of these times... Taako, what if she’s just gone?

Taako: …who? 

[Clint laughs in disbelief]

Barry: Ta- Taako? Taako, I’m…

Taako: What if who’s gone?

Barry: What are we…? Oh, god, Lup… Taako, I’m- I can’t remember her face, Taako. Taako, where-

Taako: Whose face?

Barry: Is this Fisher?

Griffin: And Taako, sure enough- you feel it too. The mongoose family that taught you their language, the meals in Tesseralia, the best day ever, your sister? Those memories are fading, Taako, and they’re nearly gone. And Barry stands up and he says-

Barry: Taako, k-kill me! Right now! I’ll- I’ll remember if I’m a lich, I can- please, Taako, just kill me! It’ll- I’ll be okay! I can’t forget, I’m, I’m, begging you, please, Taako! Please!

Justin: I blast him. I just bla—I’m already blasting him!

Griffin: He is knocked backwards by your spell. Up against the railing of the Starblaster’s deck, and… he looks up at you? And you see a brief, pained smile on his face as he topples backwards and off the ship. And as his body falls, further and further down, you realize… you don’t know who that is. And as you fall to your knees on the deck of this ship that has served as your home for one hundred long years, you realize you don’t know where you are. And you don't know how you got here, and…

[cycle99-official]

Your first hero of Cycle 99: Horace "Higgs" Worthsome, Jr. Stay tuned for Higgs' first chapter, coming this Tuesday at 10 am ET. Learn more about Higgs, for free, on Patreon.

[cycle99-official]

Your followers invoke your name. Your first hero awaits. But who will you choose? Read, listen, and vote now (for free) on Patreon.

[cycle99-official]

You will choose 8 heroes. Who will they be? Find out, for free, on Patreon.