Hiraeth

(n) A yearning for a home that cannot be returned to, or never was. Unable to stop the gate, dragons rush from the Eclipse Gate, wreaking havoc on the world. After Gajeel dies in her arms, Levy McGarden begins to lose the will to live, until she finds a sinister tome on the R system and becomes determined to resurrect him…no matter the cost.

Home is where the heart is.

And now, finally, she knew where her home truly was.

"Don't leave me!" She sobbed. "Don't you fucking dare leave me!"

Levy didn't know how it happened. She had been fighting those strange hatchlings, magic erupting with each syllable. Frost to chill their movements, Thunder to fry, Oil for a quick escape. However, she had been keeping a keen eye on the battles above. It was probably a stupid idea—the ground was dangerous enough as it was—but she could not help but watch Gajeel as he faced off against the large black dragon.

It seemed like he was winning

Seemed like the dragon was getting pushed back.

Until in one quick swipe, the iron dragon slayer was sent careening to the ground. There was a sickening crash, a deafening, bleary pressure, and at once Levy bolted to where he fell.

The lithe mage was quite sure that she had never run so fast in her life, the pressure of raw energy shooting form her shoes—she did not even remember casting Speed, but did not care, focusing only on the smoldering crater of rock before her.

Levy skid to a halt, collapsing on her knees in front of Gajeel's broken figure.

He was Flat on his back, mouth partly open, crimson blood spread all over his chest. There were four deep claw marks, so harsh that she could see stomach churning peaks of splintered bone—the skin itself was shredded to ribbons, hanging in detached flaps, oozing and soaking into the dirt and stone below them. The stench of copper was unbearable, Gajeel's burning red eyes slowly focusing on her frantic brown ones.

She hunched over him. Never had she felt so powerless.

Levy had no curative spells, no Solid Script Bandage, no Recovery, no Stitches. She had nothing, not even water to wash the wounds that could not possibly heal.

"No…" She whispered, voice erratic, shaking. "No, no, no…!"

Gajeel did not have the strength to move. He only looked at her, convulsing as blood poured from his wounds, as she clenched his hand with her small ones.

"Gajeel…Gajeel please…you have to be okay..."

He coughed, corners of his mouth twitching up ever so slightly. "Shrimp…It's okay."

"What…what do I do? What do I do? Tell me how to make you better? Iron! You need Iron—"

A deep growl rumbled in his chest. "Don't waste your magic…"

His voice was getting weaker, his gaze becoming unfocused.

"Gajeel…no…don't go…"

…

She tightened her grip, no longer in control as tears flowed freely. Levy's chest was tight, throat closing up with cracking sobs.

"No…"

…

"Don't leave me…Don't leave me!"

…

"Don't you fucking dare leave me!" She cried.

But Gajeel Redfox did not respond. His violent red eyes now stared right through her, his jaw slack, hand limp and heavy.

And she screamed, and choked, and buried her head in her hands.

This was not real.

But the skies erupted into flames, and the ground rumbled, and Levy looked up to see that Atlas Flame had Laxus's defeated form in its jaws, looked up to see the light show of flying blood and dragon breath, looked up to hear the chorus of screams and howls of agony.

This was not real.

"Oh god…"

She turned, still on her knees, to see Jet's blanched and bloodied face. He had scratches all over, a wicked burn wrapping around his arm, hands slick in red and trembling.

"Oh Levy…" he murmured. In an instant he was beside her, gazing with defeat at Gajeel's lifeless corpse. If Gajeel was dead, they may as well all be dead. Laxus too, was dead. On the way, Jet witnessed Gray shot full of holes, saw what remained of Macao, and became more determined to find Levy.

"We have to get out of here. Now."

For a brief yet endless moment, she continued to stare at Gajeel, unmoving, before turning back to him. They were incoherent, unaccepting, her gaze. Drained. "Where's Droy?"

He looked away.

"Let's go."

And he did not wait for an answer, but wrapped her petite form in his arms and ran as fast as he could.

Where?

Hell if he knew.

Away from here was all that mattered.

As Levy clung to his singed shirt, felt the blood on his hands, knowing whose it was, she continued to cry. And then she buried her face in his chest, the image of Gajeel's dead body burned into the back of her eyes.