I breathe out, deeply. I feel the air desperately escaping my lungs. Albeit only slightly, my light hair hangs in front of my eyes, obstructing my vision as I stare down at my legs. I've been awake for the past few minutes, and I was quick to notice my lack of left arm. The bandaged stump extending from my shoulder reminded me of what I did.
What I did to save her.
Objectively, some may call my actions rash, and extreme. But there was no time to think of other options if there even were any. The enchantment prevented me from passing through that doorway if I bore a guild emblem on my body, and unlike Lisanna, I couldn't pass through while maintaining physical contact with someone who did not have such an emblem. True, I could've rewritten the enchantment, but I didn't have that kind of time. As a result, I acted on the first solution my mind conjured, regardless of any obvious consequences.
But I lost an arm.
I can't just reattach the dismembered limb, so I have to live with my decision. Though even thinking back, it is a little surprising just how easily I choose to sacrifice an arm to save a guild mate. No, it was to save Lisanna.
What that implies, I don't want to think about right now.
For the moment, the sun is pouring into the otherwise dimly lit room, as I am sitting up in a rather uncomfortable bed. I awoke in this room, which I'm assuming is in the guildhall, but to be fair, I've never seen this specific room ever. My head feels a little shaken, and my skull feels unnaturally heavy. Other than being generally sore, I feel fine.
I swing my legs over to the left, allowing them to rest on the cold ground. I pull myself over, so I'm sitting on the edge of the small bed. Rubbing my right eye casually, I take another deep breath before slowly erecting to a stance. I take my time, being sure my body can handle standing. Confident it can, I'm able to take a few steps forward, while I instinctively reach to my hip. I stop in a sense of sudden panic and feel a wave of dread wash over me.
My sword is gone.
Spinning in a full circle, my eyes dart around the room, desperately scanning every inch of my wooden surroundings. My vision frantically sweeps past the bed where I was resting. Casually leaning against the wall, is my blade, thin, steel, tall, and inscribed with Laurethium characters. I must have walked right past it.
Walking back, I quickly bend down and pick up the light sword with my hand. As I tightly grip the well-used handle, I feel the wind around me instantly pick up. I can't stop it, something inside of me just tells the wind inside this small room to become violently intense. A vortex forms around me as I hold the blade directly in front of me. The current keeps multiplying in intensity, and something in my mind is telling the wind to grow stronger and stronger. I notice loose pieces of paper from around the room get caught in the wind, and as it becomes more intense, even the curtains and sheets of the bed join the flurry around me. I can't stop it. Now, the pillow joins the blizzard of items in the room spinning faster around me. It can be faster. I double the wind's strength, now shaking the bed. I can do more. It can be stronger.
"En!"
I recognize that voice. Glancing to my right, I see long, snow white hair violently flailing in the powerful vortex around me.
Feeling something click in my mind, I realize what I'm doing, and allow the wind to settle to a halt around me. As it does, the sheets, papers, and pillows begin to slow, before raining to the wooden ground. I mimic their actions, lowering the blade, angling the handle downwards so the tip is touching the ground. I stare down at the point where the steel meets the floor.
"What are you doing out of bed? And you're using magic on top on that! Geez, look at this mess!"
I'm sure Mirajane intended to sound angry, but it doesn't really translate when it's a high pitched voice is saying it. Though that might mean she isn't really mad.
I don't say a word, I just keep looking firmly downwards as I hear Mirajane take a few steps towards me.
"How are you feeling?"
She sounds completely calm. I guess she wasn't mad.
"I'm fine."
I say dismissively, not looking up.
"Well, that's good to hear!"
Mirajane says cheerily, probably smiling brightly.
Maintaining my gaze on the wooden floor, I feel angry. No, maybe sad is a better way to portray it, or somewhere between those two feelings. Regardless, I don't know where this feeling's coming from, or why I'm feeling it.
From the direction of the only doorway in the room, I hear a few light footsteps.
"Oh, Mira, what are you doing..."
The voice trails off. The voice I gave an arm for. The voice belonging to someone I can actually say I care about.
Slowly, I turn my head, and I see her. Frozen in the doorway, looking in my general direction and wearing an expression of surprise, relief, and grief at the same time.
I feel like I should say something, and maybe if had the slightest clue of what would be the appropriate thing to say, I might be able to say it.
Instead, I just turn my head back, looking back to the hard ground, and allowing a thick, awkward silence to form between the three of us. I've never felt like this, just so completely unsure of what to do or say. It's unsettling, to say the least.
Mirajane is the first to break the silence.
"Well, you're probably famished En, so I'll run and grab you something to eat and drink."
She's already moving for the door before she finishes her sentence. Just like that, Lisanna and I are alone together.
She still doesn't say anything, but I hear her take a few steps further into the room, approaching me.
I can feel it, she wants to say something, but there's so much apprehension in the air, she's suffocating and can't say a word.
This is stupid, she wants to see if I'm alright, but for one reason or another, she is incapable of actually forming the words. We're in the same boat.
"I-I'm sorry, En."
In surprise I look up and turn around, finding Lisanna, trying to hold back tears and forcing herself to look away.
I shake my head slightly after a moment, which I doubt she sees.
"Don't apologize."
I quietly say.
"No!"
I jump back a little as Lisanna yells her response.
"It's my fault you lost your..."
She hesitates, unable to bring herself to say the next words. Seeing the opportunity to do so, I interject.
"The alternative was losing you, that makes the circumstances are irrelevant."
She seems surprised to hear this, which I suppose is understandable.
"But, now-"
I cut her off again.
"Look, I'll only say this once, it was my decision to take action, so if anyone is to blame, it's me."
Lisanna turns and looks me in the eye. She doesn't say a word, but I hear her loud and clear. Something about her, she's different in some indescribable way. I hate people, they're selfish, arrogant, judgmental, and dishonest. Not Lisanna though, she is different, in a manner which I will probably never be able to clearly identify. Even now, as she desperately tries to remain composed, holding back very obvious tears, I see her.
I take a deep, but relaxed breath, before sliding my sword in the scale covered holder which remained tied to my waist.
Lisanna now looks completely lost for words, but at least, she seems slightly happier.
Mirajane was right, even though I didn't pay much attention beforehand, I'm starving.
I move a little, before saying.
"C'mon, I'm starving."
Lisanna watches me for a moment, before giving a single, slow nod.
And just like that, we move on, leaving the room.
"One two three four, One two three four…"
The masked man known only as Simo Hayha whispers to himself as he stares ahead at the old enchanter.
"You know if you're lying to me, you're not leaving here alive."
The alluring voice of Jem says to the terrified, short and elderly man. He looks up to the scarcely clothed and curvy woman standing over him.
"I'm telling you, that's the truth miss!"
He sounds desperate, as I wonder how I got dragged along with Quant's wife, and his personal psychotic assassin. It's just annoying to be on guard duty for people who should be below me. Jem's just an alchemist, and Simo wields gun magic, nothing remarkable. Nothing in comparison to my mastery of shadow magic.
"Is that so?"
Jem asks the old man, shaking her short purple hair, and reaching into the pocket of her short shorts.
She pulls out a small bag, pours the contents out, and holds a glittery pile of dust in her lowers her stance, and squats down, before blowing the dust into the elderly enchanter's face. He coughs and gags as the dust enters his throat.
"Let me ask again,"
Jem starts, standing up and clapping her hands together, getting rid of any leftover dust.
"Have you ever inscribed a sword in Laurethium?"
The man blinks, and unwillingly saying.
"Yes, about three years ago."
I hear Simo from behind me whisper.
"And the curtain rises…"
What he lacks in sanity, Simo makes up for in lethality, he is good at what he does, just not better than me.
I hear Jem sigh.
"You didn't have to lie. But then again, they always do."
She begins walking to me.
"Knock yourself out Simo."
I can hear an excited breath from Simo before he says.
"Gun magic, Virtusio."
On command, his self-named gun appears on in his thin, cloaked arm. His beady yellow eyes bulge in excitement as the long rifle manifests in his right arm. His white mask hides it, but his disfigured face is undoubtedly smiling in pure ecstasy. He looks down the barrel of the gun, taking aim at the man, who remains docile and unaware due to the powder he was just showered with.
"The lights, the music, the performance must be perfect for the audience."
Even though he is whispering quietly, I can hear Simo perfectly fine, however, it's Jem who speaks next.
"Well, at least, we have good news for Quant, right Ukel?"
I don't say a word because I don't need to. Instead, I keep watching Simo.
"Let the suspense build,"
He whispers, taking steady aim at the old enchantress skull. After a moment of silence, Simo sharply inhales, and whispers.
"One two three four, one two three-"
And fires his bullet.
After that...