Magic was a fickle thing. Never quite here nor there, probable and impossible yet thriving in the air around them. Magic is the solution and the cause of life problems.
Or at least that was what Igneel told me.
I never did believe it, until now. I'd always assumed magic was neutral, the user deciding its fate. It was a simplistic philosophy, definitely, but it had never failed me before. My magic was good because I used it for good, a dark mages was bad because they used it for evil. It was a mindset that has always given me a clear cut response. It had told me who the enemy was, who was wrong. But it had also set so many boundaries. Tiring, exhausting rules that I had to obey to fit in. To I did, I gave up so much for my family, for my friends. I reigned in my wild nature, took the heat out my punches, I learnt their language, their rules, eaten their food and been the butt of their jokes for years. Yet I was still an outsider looking in.
And I had no one to blame but myself.
They had given me so much, and I had thrown it all away.
All because I lost control.I wanted to be good,to be right,but as I looked around the battlefield, from the raging fire, to my fallen comrades, my magic had never looked so evil. It was wild, chaotic and ever-changing as it shifted from foe to foe, but in an odd way it was fair. It held no bias, no mercy or sympathy for any that stood in its would tear them down all the a small part of me wanted it to. A tiny voice in my mind shouted to let go, to give up, to forget all the rules and march across the imaginary lines that made me a 'good person'. I was sick of taking these hits, sick of holding back for fear of hurting someone, only to watch the same person hurt my friends, hurt me. And every time I stood up, I felt my control wavering, the fire under my skin waiting to break free. For a moment, I wanted stop holding back and see what I could really do. I wanted to show this man, no this monster,just how insignificant he was, how easy it would be to crush him.
It turned out that a moment was all I needed to truly lose control.
The next thing I knew, I was falling. Neither here nor there. I couldn't tell where my body began and ended. I was lost, lost between the fire and the flames and I wanted someone…anyone to help. Mavis knows I don't deserve it, but I needed it.
"Please…anyone, I-I need help."
It shouldn't have turned out like never lost a fight, been beaten so brutally, yet here they were, here he was, standing silent, shocked.
To be defeated was one thing, but to watch him stand up time and time again, only to be forced down so violently…it broke Gray's heart.
He and Erza always joked about how Natsu's big mouth was going to get him in trouble one of these days, but they'd never considered that his silence could be so much worse. But silence would imply he was still here, and as much as it pained gray, he could not tear his eyes away from the spot where Natsu was a second ago.
It hurt.
The broken leg was painful yes, but nothing could hurt more than that empty spot. It stared at him, mocked him, like it knew what it had taken from him…from them. Even the scattered flames across the battlefield from wayward attacks seemed to stop moving, as if confused about how to act now that its master had disappeared. And for a moment, everything was so silent, gray thought it must have been a trick. Nothing involving Natsu was quiet. He imagined that Erza must have felt the same way because for a moment, their eyes met and they both turned their heads…
...but he wasn't behind them.
There was no miraculous escape, no snarky comeback, no shit-eating grin or voice telling their enemy that "they'd have to do a lot better than that".
It was silent, but to Gray, it had never been so loud.
When Lucy screamed it begin to sink in, but it was only when Erza had moved, her bare fists marking every inch of their opponent, did it really hit him. Lucy's desperate scream, Erza's rage, Happy's tears, his own pain.
Natsu was gone, and Gray would bring hell to Earth to find him.