Felicity Finds Family -21-

Felicity Finds Family

A Transgender Super Coming of Age Adventure

From the Super Heroine Universe

Chapter 21: Critical Mass

By Sasha Zarya Nexus

Can Felicity and her family rescue Beth from Tharngara, with them being overconfident that they had enough to counter Oopsey Daisy?

Copyright 2025 by Sasha Zarya Nexus.
All Rights Reserved.

Author's Note:

This novel, in it's entirety, is available on my Patreon. Patreon Free Members can read my new complete book by chapters, Things We Do for Love. This novel will be posted by chapters on Fridays, until the novel is complete on BCTS.

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Chapter 21: Critical Mass

The culmination of evil arrived with the force of a cosmic catastrophe. The triple corruption had reached its climax, with all three malevolent forces operating at peak power in perfect coordination. The lobby of Hotel Colorado, once a sanctuary of impossible beauty, had become a hellscape where reality itself was being systematically destroyed.

Oopsey Daisy's chaotic form now encompassed the entire space, its writhing mass of shadows and screaming light pressing against every surface with the weight of collapsing dimensions. The entity's power had grown exponentially, fed by the perfect coordination with its malevolent partners. Reality distortions rippled outward from its core at maximum intensity, turning the hotel's elegant architecture into a nightmare of impossible geometries.

"The distortions are reaching critical mass," Dr. Merideth Zvezda gasped, her mathematical understanding providing context for the impossible. "Space-time itself is breaking down. We're not just losing the hotel—we're losing the very concept of sanctuary."

The walls existed in multiple realities simultaneously, some showing the hotel as it had been, others revealing what it was becoming—a twisted mockery of safety where the desperate came to find only deeper despair. The floors shifted between dimensions without warning, creating chasms that led not to lower levels but to voids where hope itself had been consumed.

Tharngara's ancient malevolence had evolved beyond mere corruption into something that approached the sublime in its perfect evil. The primordial entity was no longer just feeding on Beth's despair—it was amplifying it, using her orphaned pain as a lens to focus suffering from across multiple dimensions. The child's anguish had become a beacon that drew the accumulated abandonment of countless souls, concentrating it into a weapon of unimaginable power.

"Feeding on child's amplified despair," Hanna whispered, her ancient wisdom allowing her to perceive the entity's methodology with horrifying clarity. "It's not just using her pain—it's creating a resonance cascade that pulls suffering from every reality where children have been abandoned."

The dryad's connection to the hotel's living systems showed her the true scope of the corruption. Beth's despair was being magnified across dimensional boundaries, creating a feedback loop that made her suffering infinite. Every moment of abandonment she had ever experienced was being relived simultaneously across multiple realities, each iteration feeding back into the others until her pain became a self-sustaining force of destruction.

Peter's final barrier had evolved into something that transcended his original corruption. The guardian spirit who had once protected children was now the perfect weapon against child protection, his intimate knowledge of rescue operations allowing him to block all attempts at salvation with surgical precision.

"Corrupted guardian blocking all rescue attempts," Hope realized, her warrior training recognizing the tactical nightmare they were facing. "He knows exactly what we're going to do before we do it because he used to be us. He's the perfect counter to everything we represent."

Peter's form had become a maze of intercepted possibilities—every path toward Beth was blocked by knowledge of how that path could be corrupted, every offer of love was countered by memories of betrayal, every promise of safety was undermined by evidence of previous failures. He had become the embodiment of every reason why hope was foolish, every proof that love was temporary, every demonstration that family was a lie told to children who should know better.

The most devastating aspect of the triple corruption was that Beth's voice had been completely silenced. The child's true nature, which had fought so valiantly against the overwhelming evil, was now completely overwhelmed by the coordinated assault. Her face, when it was visible through the chaos, showed not just fear but the kind of absolute despair that came from being convinced that she was inherently unworthy of love.

"True nature completely overwhelmed by corruption," Lynn sobbed, her maternal instincts driving her toward the child despite the obvious futility. "She's not fighting anymore. She's given up believing that rescue is possible."

The silence was more terrifying than any scream. Beth had stopped calling for help, stopped hoping for rescue, stopped believing that anyone would ever want her. The entities had succeeded in convincing her that she was fundamentally flawed, that her very existence was a burden that no family would willingly bear.

"I deserve this," came Beth's voice, barely audible through the chaotic distortions. "I deserve to be alone. I deserve to hurt. No one will ever want me because I'm broken."

The tesseract, which had been the family's anchor and source of unlimited power, began to show signs of complete shutdown. The divine construct's crystalline structure was fracturing under the coordinated assault, its infinite energy being systematically overwhelmed by forces that had learned to use divine power against itself.

"Power source overwhelmed by coordinated evil," Felicity gasped, her connection to the tesseract allowing her to feel every crack that appeared in its supposedly impenetrable structure. "The unlimited energy is being turned into unlimited despair. They're using the Goddess's own power to fuel the corruption."

The tesseract's shutdown was not just a loss of power—it was a corruption of power. The divine energy that had been meant to heal and protect was being inverted, transformed into something that amplified suffering instead of alleviating it. The very source of their strength had become a weapon against them.

With the tesseract failing, the hotel's sanctuary began to crumble in ways that transcended physical collapse. The building had always existed at the intersection of multiple realities, but now those intersections were becoming unstable, creating pockets of chaos where the very concept of safety was being systematically destroyed.

"Sanctuary crumbling under possession's power," Mr. Medici reported, his instruments showing readings that painted a picture of systematic reality breakdown. "The hotel's dimensional anchors are being corrupted. Every safe space is becoming a trap, every sanctuary is being turned into a prison."

The furniture that had welcomed countless supernatural beings now twisted into restraints. The walls that had provided protection became barriers that prevented escape. The windows that had offered views of beauty now showed only the accumulated suffering of every soul who had ever been abandoned.

But even as the hotel collapsed around them, the staff made their choice. Miss Devereux, Lyra Boring, and Mr. Medici remained at their posts, coordinating what little resistance they could muster despite the overwhelming danger.

"All three staying to help despite overwhelming danger," Miss Devereux announced, her professional efficiency masking the terror in her voice. "We will not abandon our posts. We will not abandon our family. We will not abandon the child."

Mr. Medici's weathered hands continued to glow with power drawn from the hotel's failing systems, trying to maintain some small pocket of stability in the chaos. Lyra's book continued to write itself, documenting the systematic destruction of hope with the dedication of someone who believed that knowledge itself was a form of resistance.

"The final fortress," Lyra observed, her unremarkable features showing the kind of courage that came from facing the impossible. "If the hotel falls, if the tesseract fails, if the family is separated—we still remain. We still choose to stand with the child."

The family separation was the cruelest aspect of the corruption's victory. Even the tesseract space, which had been designed to protect them from any threat, was unable to maintain its integrity under the coordinated assault. The crystalline sanctuary that had sheltered them was collapsing, forcing them apart at the moment when they most needed to be together.

"Even tesseract space unable to protect everyone," Hope realized, her warrior training recognizing the tactical impossibility of their situation. "The corruption is too strong, too coordinated. We're being forced to choose who to save."

Lynn reached desperately toward Beth, her maternal instincts driving her to protect the child despite the obvious futility. "I won't leave her. I won't let her face this alone."

Hanna's ancient wisdom was failing her for the first time in centuries, the accumulated knowledge of the ages proving inadequate against evil so perfectly coordinated. "The grove is dying. The trees are withering. The very concept of natural sanctuary is being corrupted."

Felicity felt her connection to the tesseract severing as the divine construct's crystalline structure finally shattered. "The unlimited power is gone. The healing abilities are failing. I'm becoming ordinary again."

The child's despair had reached its absolute nadir. Beth's voice, when it came, carried the weight of someone who had been convinced that her very existence was a mistake that the universe was finally correcting.

"No family will ever want me," she whispered, her words carrying across the dimensional barriers with the force of absolute conviction. "I'm broken. I'm wrong. I'm the reason people leave. I'm the reason love fails. I deserve to be alone."

The power failure was complete. All abilities that had made the family special, all gifts that had allowed them to help others, all connections that had made them more than the sum of their parts—everything was temporarily lost to the coordinated corruption.

"All abilities temporarily lost to coordinated corruption," Dr. Zvezda observed, her mathematical understanding providing context for the impossible. "The entities haven't just defeated us—they've proven that our power was meaningless against truly coordinated evil."

Lynn's maternal instincts, which had guided countless beings toward healing, were being turned against her. Every nurturing impulse was met with evidence of why care was futile, every protective instinct was countered by proof that protection was impossible.

Hanna's ancient wisdom, which had provided stability for centuries, was being systematically dismantled. Every lesson learned through the ages was being corrupted, every piece of knowledge was being inverted to serve the forces of despair.

Hope's warrior training, which had protected countless beings across multiple dimensions, was being used to demonstrate why fighting was pointless. Every tactical advantage was being countered by someone who knew exactly how such advantages could be defeated.

Felicity's healing abilities, which had been the family's greatest strength, were being turned into weapons of suffering. Every attempt to provide comfort was being twisted into deeper pain, every offer of love was being corrupted into evidence of eventual betrayal.

The ultimate tragedy was unfolding before their eyes. An innocent child, who had done nothing wrong except search for the family connections that would give her life meaning, was being consumed by forces that existed specifically to exploit such vulnerability. Beth's very goodness, her capacity for love, her desperate need for belonging—all of it was being used as fuel for the corruption that claimed her.

"Innocent child consumed by forces exploiting her vulnerability," Miss Devereux documented, her clipboard showing readings that painted a picture of systematic evil triumphant. "The entities have succeeded in their goal. They have turned hope into despair, love into abandonment, family into betrayal."

The corruption was complete. Beth's face, when it was visible through the chaos, showed not just fear but the kind of absolute despair that came from being convinced that she was fundamentally unworthy of love. The entities had succeeded in convincing her that she was inherently flawed, that her very existence was a burden that no family would willingly bear.

"The victory of evil," Lyra observed, her book documenting the systematic destruction of hope with scientific precision. "They have not just defeated us—they have proven that their methodology is superior. They have shown that corruption is stronger than creation, that despair is more powerful than hope, that isolation is more natural than connection."

The hotel continued to collapse around them, reality itself breaking down under the weight of perfectly coordinated malevolence. The tesseract lay in crystalline fragments, its infinite energy dissipated into the chaos. The family was separated, their bonds severed by forces that had learned to use love as a weapon against itself.

But even in the moment of absolute defeat, something stirred within the remnants of their connection. Not power—they had no power left. Not abilities—those had been systematically corrupted. Not hope—that had been proven foolish.

What remained was something simpler and more fundamental: the stubborn refusal to accept that evil had won. The quiet insistence that Beth deserved better, even if they couldn't provide it. The persistent belief that somewhere, somehow, love was still possible.

"Even if we fail," Lynn whispered, her voice barely audible through the chaos, "even if we're powerless, even if hope is foolish—she still deserves to be loved. That truth doesn't change no matter how much evidence there is against it."

The evil forces had achieved their perfect victory, the innocent child had been consumed by corruption, and the family that had promised to protect her had been systematically dismantled. But within that absolute darkness, a single truth remained: some things were worth fighting for even when fighting was impossible, some beliefs were worth maintaining even when they had been proven wrong, some loves were worth offering even when they would certainly be rejected.

The ultimate tragedy had unfolded, but the story was not yet over. In the fragments of the shattered tesseract, in the ruins of the collapsed hotel, in the separated members of a broken family, something waited to be discovered. Not victory—that was impossible. Not power—that had been lost. Not hope—that had been proven foolish.

But perhaps, in the very depths of despair, there was something else. Something that evil, no matter how perfectly coordinated, could never fully understand or completely destroy. Something that would make the next chapter possible, even when all seemed lost.

The child's despair was complete, but the family's love remained. Broken, powerless, separated—but still present. Still real. Still refusing to accept that evil had the final word.