Their magic was overwhelming.

Let me Free…

Slowly consuming her mind,
changing her into something
different.

LEt mE FrEE…

She was losing her sense of self.

L eT M e fREe…

But she had to listen.

LET ME FREE.

HE was demanding it.

LET ME FREE.

SHE HAD TO FREE HIM.

̶̢̨̛̬͍̰̘͍͋͐͗̾̅̽̚̕Į̸̞͉͈͇̰͙͔͛̆̔̂͑͋̐͂͒̍̾͊ ̵̠̪̼̻͛̓̓̓̋̾̍̅̏͂͒̓͊̽̎M̸̨̨̥͍̮͍͆̇̄̍͘U̵̼̫̲̼̠̙̤̣̮̹͈͈̺̺̦͒̎̓̄̍̍̏͒͑͑S̶̤̰͍̞̩̅̈́̄͐̊̓͒͜T̵̨̨̖̝͉͍̥͗̾̽̊̃̈́̃͑̅͘ͅ ̴̛̼̳͈̦̬̤͇̣͉̱͈͉̝̝̍̓͐̊́̊̓͂̇̊̃́͜͝B̴̨̧͇̦͖̠̖͓̩̰̏̌̀̐͛́Ê̶͕̟͖͉͝͝ ̷̫̖̩̤̮̖̳̎̌̽̈́̿̔̌̈́̍͋̓̕͝͝͝ͅF̵̛̣̘̬̦̟̥̟̅̑̓͗͊͊́̂̄̊́R̷̝͎̞͐̊̈́̂̐̍̾̈̕̚E̴̬͙̤͈̔̂̈͆̅̀̀̆̽̓́͒͘̚E̸͚̫͎̻̝͔̙̼̺͋͊͌̃̌̍̄͗͊̌͌̕͜͜͝ͅͅ!̸͚̘̹̙̞͍͕͔̒͗̿


She picked herself up from where they'd been blasted against the wall, pushing through the almost tangible wall of magic.

It wasn't far now; only a few steps away, but something was stopping her. What was it? Why wasn't she able to free him?

There was a… string? A connection; leading through the wall, to the outside world. But why? What was out there? Was it more important than her task – no, mission? Yes… it was more important… But what was it?

No. Lucy shook her head. It didn't matter, couldn't matter; she had to free him, he couldn't be allowed to stay imprisoned.

People were screaming at her, she couldn't understand them, and when she looked closer, there were more strings, leading to them, so she didn't bother trying.

Her fingers brushed against his prison, and she smiled; she was so close.

The voices weren't as loud anymore, no longer distracting her – whether she was paying attention or not. That was good; they couldn't be allowed to interfere.

Placing her hand directly against the ice, she starts a small trickle of magic, carefully winding it through the convoluted artificial magic systems – running parallel to his also artificial nervous system. She knows he can't feel much, but she's still careful as she wraps it around his broken core, feeling it fill with his own sinister magic.

She can feel his core unconsciously absorbing what was left of her as it fixes itself, slowly draining her of her magic, but she doesn't think she minds; dying to free him doesn't sound so bad.

Her levels were pretty close to dangerous now, so it wouldn't be long until he was back – not at full power, but enough that he could regenerate the rest. Her legs fail her as the drain speeds up, taking more the closer she gets to empty. And while it's not painful, the voices come back, and they're annoying enough to stop her from just basking in his magic while her levels dropped.

She so desperately wants to tell them to shut up, but it would use up the rest of her magic, and she'd much sooner give it all to him. So, she tries to say it out loud, but it only comes out as a breathless whisper, nothing more than the passing of air.

It would only take another minute or so anyway, so she tried not to let it bother her. Less than 60 seconds until Master would be free, and she smiled from her place on the ground, palm still placed firmly against the ice.

The voices have hands now, leaving frozen imprints where they'd touched her. She thinks they've gotten louder, but she can't hear them anyway, so it doesn't matter.

There are suddenly more hands, more ice-covered touches, and they're trying to take her away from him. She scoffs, as long as her magic is winding through both of their systems – artificial or not – her hand won't detach. Move? Yes. But not detach.

"We have to – It's the only – not going to die ." One voice, right beside her left ear, whispered. Although, by his tone, it sounded like he was yelling.

"A– crazy! We c–! It'll kill her!" Another, this time further down, likely down by her side, whisper yelled.

"She's g– to – anywa–! Woul–ou – definitely die – she have a chance of – with the –." This one, on the other side of her head, wasn't yelling, so it was hard to make out what he'd said. But why was she listening anyway?

Anyway, whatever they were talking about doesn't matter now, the drain would kill her in just a few seconds. The voices seem to notice this, and suddenly, they're forcing a magic transfer.

Agonized screams tear themselves from her lips, – but she can't be sure she has enough energy to say them – and her body convulses with the pain as it leaves her systems shredded from the magic that rips through them.

She snarls, at least if they were that adamant about saving her, they could've been a bit more careful about it; slowly winding through her pathways instead of rushing through to her core like a bull in a china shop. But, she supposed there wasn't enough time for that, considering she was about to die .

Why did she think that was a good idea anyway? It can't have been her idea; she had… someone… to protect. Who was it?

Searching for her memories only brought her flashes of colour, but the most prominent was red, so it must be of some importance to her. She thinks she can match the voice to her left with green, and the one at her hip as red, and, strangely, the one on the right as well. Maybe that's why it was so strong… She had more than one.

Before she could ponder any more, another wave of magic forced its way through, cauterizing some of the most damaged parts of her already torn systems. Just as it disappears, another rushes through, but it's better this time – if only slightly – leaving small pockets of life-energy as it passes the more damaged bits. Again and again and again, they forced more energy through to her core. Leaving patches of earth-energy, poison, and sun as it travels, slowly fixing the ruined pathways the first bout had left behind.

As the sun-energy passes through, and it fixes the last of the tears, it's all she can do to stay awake. But she holds on, curious as to what happens when they were supporting her core entirely by magic's that weren't hers.

The last of the magic slots into place and her memories come rushing back to her. She rips her hand away from the demon she was reviving, reaching out as the darkness clouding her sight claims her.

The last thing she sees is each of her spirits – both Zodiac and Draconis – sobbing as they rush towards her. (Well, Aquarius wasn't, but she wasn't all that surprised; she had never been one to show affection. She'd get ready for a lecture later.)


Something was wrong .

It seeped into everything; the air, the ground, the ethernano. Unnatural, dark, suffocating wrongness that left them feeling breathless and weak.

Mesec wasn't quite as affected, but even he could feel it; something was amiss.

As they raced down into the depths of the mountain, to the cavern where they'd left the others, the thunderous roar of a lost magic spell shatters the dead-end that'd stopped them. They leap back as boulders come tumbling down, twisting out of the way of numerous near-misses, and as soon as the path opens up, they shoot through.

The wrongness is worse now, blasting through the caves in a shockwave that knocks them onto their asses. He and Lura share a look, and she tears down the section of wall in front of them, while he supports the stone around it, making sure it won't bring it all down.

More walls and dead ends are ripped and shoved out of their way, mostly by Lura's work, but he'd punched quite a few into oblivion. Some countless secondsminuteshours later, Lura freezes and twists to face nearly directly behind her, where something must have entered her sensing range. He extends his magic in the same direction, momentarily sacrificing the awareness of what was around him to find what she had sensed, trusting them both to keep him out of danger.

A bark of laughter is startled out of him when he finds what it was and it almost becomes a giggle, but it's shut down when alarm bells start ringing in his head – and the others' too most likely. He switches his attention to Lucy, immediately fixating on the softly glowing orb of silver that hovered in her chest, and he pales when he finds it getting uncomfortably close to dangerous levels.

He can't seem to stop watching it, seeing it drain faster and faster the closer it gets to empty. Shaking his head to rid himself of the trance he'd gone into, he whirls around to face the other two. "We need to hurry, Princess' magic is being drained, and fast." Lura and Mesec stare at him blankly. "Come on! Go!" He's sure he looks wild, possibly maniac, but if it gets them moving, then he doesn't give a flying fuck.

The next seven walls come down in quick succession, barely pausing to anchor the roots inside the stone before moving on. Finally, the eighth, and hopefully last, is before them.

Each of their faces twists into grim determination, and he and Lura step forward to pull down the barrier between them, and their summoner.


He's so preoccupied with gathering himself after being smashed into a wall by a tangible wave of magical power; he doesn't even realize that his summoner – teammate, friend, comrade – is pushing herself through the magic until it's almost too late.

She staggers when he calls out to her and looks confused for a moment, trailing her eyes across the floor to gaze past the stone, to outside the mountain, before shaking her head and continuing to push her way through the thick, treacle-like magic.

His desperate yell catches the attention of the others around him; all smashed into the cavern wall in the same vicinity of each other. Vatra calls out hesitantly from Erza's lap, fear and distress leeching from her.

He picks himself up from the floor - steadying himself on the wall when his legs almost fail him - and stumbles his way over to her. As soon as he lets himself collapse next to the red-haired Requip mage, Vatra scrambles off her lap and buries her face into the crook of his neck, trembling.

He can't tell if Rin or Amanzi are in the same state as him - weak, and frantically trying to fight off the invasion of his mind from the demon who had taken his best friend from him - but he suspects they aren't. Even if it was only because they were still unconscious.

Vaguely, he can see a figure just beside Deliora's prison, and he takes a moment to be thankful that even though he's feeling weak, and his limbs won't move, he hadn't lost the enhanced senses that being a Draconis had given him.

To his right, one of the passageways Lura had blocked before she left suddenly crumbles into dust, and no matter how much he wants to, no matter how much desperation he pushes into his limbs, he can't move, can't stop whoever it is from entering.

But before any of them could launch an attack through the dust, something – It could've been his pack bond, or just his gut – tells him to wait, to see who it was first. And even though it sounds like a terrible idea – like it's going to get them all killed – he listens, because there are far too many times that he'd listened to it, and had saved their hides.

Almost immediately, he's glad he did, because fatally injuring one of his siblings-by-circumstance, sounds an awful lot like wanting to die.

Strangely, Cobra – once the dust had cleared, and they could see more than the mop of spiky maroon that was his hair – doesn't seem to be all that bothered by the strange feeling in his chest, if he had it at all.

(There was a war in his chest, he was sure of it, but both sides felt like him)

While he'd been distracted, Saol, Lura and Mesec had crashed through the wall a ways away to his left. And it must've been some time ago, seeing as Wendy, Rin, Amanzi and Erza have vanished from their place in the wall.

He knows Saol knows something is wrong – they've been brothers for far too long to hide anything from each other – but he doesn't want him to worry, he has too many other things to worry about, far more significant than the weakness in his limbs.

Something had changed in the air, and the vague figure he'd seen behind the ice crumples before they push themselves off the ground – he thinks they're swaying or wobbling with exertion – and stumble their way away from the ice, disappearing through a fissure in the stone.

Now that the figure is gone, and the grip it had on his focus with it, he's suddenly aware of the loud and attention-grabbing alarm bells ringing in his head, and the hoarse voices of his packmates from desperately trying to bring their summoner back to herself. His head snaps over to where he can feel Lucy, collapsed on the ground and breathing heavily with a satisfied smile on her face.

The oppressive feeling of Deliora's magic is growing more substantial, and with it, the battle raging within himself. He knows he has to get up, to fight, to help, or even to walk, but nothing is cooperating with him, it's like his body isn't even his anymore. But, he's never been one to back down from a challenge, not even from himself, so he's going to force himself to get up and walk if it's the last thing he does.

He yanks his focus away from Lucy's prone form and recasts it to the area around him, and whether or not anything was around him. His lips twitch into a resigned grimace, and he slowly loosens his grip on the tightly wound ball of magic in his chest, letting the excess magic he keeps locked away in his chest leeches through his skin. Almost immediately, the air around him wavers with the heat, and the cold, hollowness that was a constant in his bones vaporizes.

The war between his soul and blood diminishes when the cold disappears, and some of his strength returns. Cautiously lifting an arm, he tests the give and pull of the muscles, and brings it up to grab onto a small ledge just above his head. As soon as he's heaved himself off the ground, he has to support himself on the wall, keeping his trembling legs from bringing him crashing to the ground.

His ears catch onto the sound of footsteps, and he tries to swing his head around to identify them, but the movement destabilizes the hold he had on the wall, as well as the balancing act he was performing with his legs, and he drops.