A/N: Oh my goodness, look at this-two chapters in the span of a week. Crazy. Though, truthfully, this one was frustrating and I kind of just wanted to get it over with because good god you all have stuck around for almost 40k words now with no Laxus. Idk how you put up with me, but I'm glad you do.
I would be remiss to not thank nosserate for being a lovely reviewer for the past three chapters. I heckin' appreciate you. And lol Rosiekay-you flatter me and make me giggle.
So, yeah. Here it is. Officially your last Laxus-less chapter. Plz fave/review/send carrier pigeon. I love hearing from you all.
Pantherlilly worked on the camp in silence. Too many thoughts ran through his head, and he didn't yet have the clarity to voice them properly. Why could Talia still fight when the rest of the guild was powerless? What is the darkness he spoke of? And, loudest of all: What the fuck did I see?
He had been barely conscious, the world out of focus and blurred, but those red eyes over a black shoulder and wing burned into his memory. The feeling of being just shy of a step into the abyss, that inch between life and a sword tip. This was not sound magic, this was something darker, older, and far more dangerous. Those eyes held a warning. But a warning from what?
A clap of thunder cracked through the sky, and the little black Exceed—usually so stoic in manner—squeaked with fright. His body shivered outside of his control and his little paws pulled at his ears.
Freed watched the Exceed with a critical eye; he knew Pantherlily's intent was true—he was just as protective of Fairy Tail as any of them—but his ill-founded wariness and distrust was going to get him hurt. Levy had told him of Lily and Talia's little spat in the guild hall, and the idea of anyone holding a sword tip to Talia's throat was appalling: not just because of her history, but because he knew she would answer any serious challenge such as that. Lily likely didn't know how dangerous of a situation he had almost walked into.
"Bickslow," he called, and saw the helmeted head of his teammate turn to him "deal with the Grimoire Heart mage. Levy—" he saw her perk at her name, "Come with me. We should discuss strategy moving forward." He ducked between the canvas flaps of the infirmary tent, trusting that she'd follow.
Talia was kneeling next to Mira, the cool, damp rag in her hand pressed delicately to the take-over mage's forehead. She heard Freed approach quietly, but her focus was on the unconscious mage before her. Her heart rate increased and her eyes fluttered slightly behind their lids—she was waking up. Her eyes opened slowly, blue irises dark in their haze.
"Hey there," Talia said gently, a small smile on her face. Mira blinked away her fog.
"Lisanna—is she—"
"She's fine," Talia's voice was warm and rich. It was a trick she picked up from her mother; a low level of music magic, the ability to enchant a voice to soothe and calm. She saw Mira's tense shoulders relax. "She's outside helping put the camp back together. Elfman is sleeping just over there," she gestured slightly in his direction. Mira took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh.
"Thank you for finding them," her voice was heavy with both worry and relief. Talia gave a hint of a teasing smile
"I knew I'd have hell to pay if I didn't."
Mira's mouth pricked up in a smile and her eyes closed again. "Not sure if I'm of any use right now," she said sardonically, "I'm not as strong as I used to be."
"Nah," Talia teased, "That's what you've got me for. You just catch up on your beauty sleep." Freed cleared his throat from somewhere behind her. Talia just caught his hair in her periphery.
"I'm glad you're both here. I don't feel quite as bad sitting this one out, now."
Talia nodded and pulled the damp cloth off Mira's forehead. "Go back to sleep. We've got this."
She watched her friend drift back off to sleep before rising and turning to Freed, dropping the damp towel into a small bucket of water by a grounding pole. Levy was there as well, but had stayed just barely inside the structure. Her eyes wandered over the wounded, and Talia barely noticed her gaze linger on the downed dragon slayer. She could hear others enter the clearing—Natsu's group from the sound of it.
"Strategy, then," Talia said, her eyes hardened and calculating. She walked past them, her shoulders broad and stride long.
This was a side of Talia that Levy hadn't seen. Sure, she had seen her temper flare or pieces of her competitiveness, but this felt different. The way she held herself now, that wasn't the body language of a regular mage or foot-solder. That was the frame of a warrior; a warrior who knew of battle and blood and loss. She looked to Freed. He nodded silently and followed Talia back out into the clearing. Sometimes I really hate being right.
The storm was getting closer, lightning crackled between the clouds and thunder undulated its way around the island. The rain came heavier now, weighing and dragging down the wide leaves of the trees that rimmed the glade. But the air in the camp was tense.
"You know," came Lucy's high voice, though it wavered slightly, "Storms can be. . . kinda relaxing?" Talia smiled slightly at this. Even now, the girl was trying to find a silver lining. That kind of optimism was sorely needed.
"Ya think so?" Levy replied as she came to stand next to the blonde, "They put me on edge."
She wasn't the only one on edge, either. Talia noticed the little black Exceed was shaking. His paws pinched his little, rounded ears flat to his skull, and he looked like he was about to jump out of his skin at every sound. Talia huffed lightly, slight realization dawning on her. She quietly walked to him and crouched down beside him, hand extended and fingers comfortably outstretched. A silver sphere caught the grey light around Pantherlily, and he suddenly dropped his paws from his ears and turned about the space, astounded. His big, black eyes, had such a childlike wonder in them that it made Talia smile.
"You know," she said sweetly, only half-teasing, "You could have just told me that you don't like thunder." Her eyes were warm and kind, "Can't say I'll be able to keep it up if I need to fight, but I can muffle it for a bit."
"All right, then," Natsu's voice was resolute, "I saw we pay old Hades a visit—how about it?"
Hades? Asked Morrigan, her curiosity peeking through.
The Master of Grimoire Heart—he calls himself Hades. Talia felt Morrigan hum, but couldn't tell if it was in recognition, flippancy, or boredom.
Natsu was clearly expecting Lucy to join him, but she seemed reticent: "Um, wouldn't Freed be a better choice?"
"Thanks," Freed's voice was flat, "But I need to stay here and write and enchantment."
"We'll stick around and make sure that the others can heal up," chimed Bickslow.
Each person stated their place, and Talia weighed the odds silently. She felt the little white Exceed look to her for help—Wendy, the sweet child, wanted to go with Natsu to face the guild master. Part of her regretted that she had no help to give.
"I will stay, it matters little who all goes." Natsu looked offended and Lucy looked confused. "There are only two objectives—protect the injured and defeat Grimoire Heart. I will look after the injured with Freed, Bickslow, Levy, and Lisanna."
Bickslow and Freed nodded dutifully, they had been in and out of enough tough spots with her to trust her orders. Levy glanced back to the infirmary.
Talia looked over the small group with a critical eye—this little Team Natsu wouldn't be enough. They needed the rest of their team. She gave a low huff and walked out into the rain.
"Cover your ears," her voice was serious and even. In the center of the glade, she raised her face to the sky, the cool rain landed lightly on her face and drew down its ridges and crevices. She closed her eyes and brought her arms out wide. She could hear the lower plop! of droplets on the mud, a branch's shrug under the weight of water, the ruffle of bird wings as they dried themselves under a tree. The sound waves brushed against her skin.
She abruptly brought her hands together, and the rain shivered from the force. A thunderous crack echoed out in all directions. Freed felt the sound waves pass through him—an odd intrusion, like each molecule was just shifted slightly and then put neatly back into place. The force of the sound reverberated around the island as Talia stood unmoving in the middle of the clearing. She turned her head to the left. He thought he saw her ear tweak slightly.
Talia pointed to her left, into the forest. "Erza is a mile and a half in that direction, walk another half a mile toward the beach from there and you'll find Grey." Her eyes opened and found Natsu's as she walked back to the group. "Hit him hard and hit him fast. He'll be expecting you. If you absolutely need help, send Happy and I'll come. But I'm not sure how many more of those Grimoire Heart mages are still out there—at least three are in a reasonable vicinity."
Natsu nodded, uncharacteristically serious as he readied himself for the real fight. Though that stoicism shattered as he bellowed a ridiculous "Let's GOOOO!" at the top of his lungs. Talia smiled, even as she winced from the decibels. She watched as he, Lucy, Wendy, and the three Exceed headed into the forest to find their teammates. Talia looked after them, listening to their excited strategizing and the slow fade of their footsteps into the distance. May you never lose your sense of adventure, Natsu. She turned back to the camp. It would be quieter now, and they had much to do.
"Lisanna," she called as she strode back through the rain, "have you found the bandages and salve?" Talia saw her nod. "Good. Let's get everyone bandaged and treated as well as we can. I have a feeling we'll have at least one more fight today."
Talia made her way through the makeshift infirmary, not-so-slowly going cross-eyed from all the wrapping. She worked on the Master's small arm now, delicate hands guiding gauze over the sticky, salve-covered contusion. A particularly loud crack of thunder caught her attention from outside. The sound waves were less wild and erratic than the rest of the lightning, dulled by distance and a lack of conduit. But this lightning. . . it cut clean. The sound was warm against her skin, and it nuzzled itself politely alongside the rest of her magic. She turned toward the sound, her brows furrowed in thought. That thunder. . . Laxus?
"Defense enchantments," Talia heard Freed remind Levy, "Can't have even the tiniest of holes, or they'll be rendered useless. So be sure to double check every detail."
Levy nodded, her nose scrunched up in focus. But she paused for a moment and looked over her shoulder, toward the infirmary. "It's my turn to protect you now, ya big lug."
"What was that, Levy?" Freed interjected, "If you have something to confess, then speak up."
Talis snickered at the squawking of her blue-haired friend as she continued wrapping Elfman's injuries with Lisanna.
"Dang, she's really got it bad for him," she teased to Lisanna.
The Animal Soul maze got a mischievous look in her eye—exactly the same look that Mira would get when her Matchmaking senses were tingling. "You know, she's not the only one," Lisanna tied off the last of Elfman's arm bandage. She turned to her brother with a playful grin. "While you were out, you kept talking in your sleep. 'Evergreen! Evergreen!'"
Elfman looked panicked and frantically tried to shoo those thoughts from his sister's mind. True or not, he'd never live it down.
"It's not what you're thinking! I was just worried about her safety!"
The two women laughed at his outburst and tomato-faced embarrassment. Talia tied off the bandage on his shoulder.
"Oh I'm kidding! You're so silly!" Lisanna pushed him backwards playfully, but probably underestimated her own strength and his current exhaustion, considering he fell flat backwards with a loud splat!
"Careful, now," Talia laughed, "Don't go breaking him more." That teasing glint seemed to be contagious, because now it was in Talia's eye. "We can't leave poor Evergreen without those strong arms to fall into." The two women laughed at Elfman's expense, and the sound seemed to cheer up the camp a bit. Bickslow's steps were light as he returned to the clearing.
"C'mon," he teased, 'Would you guys please get serious?" His little soul casks calling: "Yeah! Get serious!" in chorus behind him.
Elfman apparently needed to regain his manliness. "You're one to talk!" he grumbled, "Where have you been, slacker?" Talia rolled her eyes.
"Getting' rid of that guy with the glasses Talia took out." He crossed his arms. "We can't risk him using a body link spell and giving away our location."
"Good work, Bickslow," came Freed's tired voice, "We're just wrapping things up here."
"You all should get some rest while you have the chance," chimed Levy, "You guys must be exhausted."
"From that jerk?" Bickslow scoffed, "Talia did most of the work, anyway. And I wasn't about to be—"
Talia heard the footsteps too late. A slice of white script magic tore through Bickslow's gut. Everyone able sprang to their feet.
"Bickslow!"
"No way! That's Eastern solid script! Not him again!"
"How did they sneak up on us?" exclaimed Lisanna.
Talia's jaw clenched. This breach was on her, and her friend paid in blood for her negligence. "I was listening for humans, not these jerks that evolution forgot."
The Grimoire Heart mages attacked, and a volley of explosions rained down from the sky. Talia threw a sound pulse toward them, pushing away most, and Freed's enchantment warded off the rest.
"Were those. . . eggs?" squeaked Lisanna, disgust in her voice.
Talia grimaced. "I don't think that's how egg-laying is supposed to work, dude."
Elfman groaned. "It's an ambush."
"They must have traced out whereabouts, somehow," added Freed, hand on the hilt of his sword.
"I thought Gajeel beat these guys already?!" Levy sounded desperate and tired. And it just added to Talia's irritation.
"Screw battle etiquette!" laughed the Eastern Script mage, his long, floppy canine ears pulling with inertia, "It means nothing to a warrior who has lost his blade!" With mere gestures of his hands, he shattered Freed's enchantment, leaving the infirmary vulnerable.
"The enchantment!"
"Protect the injured!" There was only one person Freed spoke to with that: Talia. She was the only one he knew could ensure their guildmates' safety. Her fists clenched. So these are the mages who took down Gajeel. She glared at them both. I can't wait to teach him the real meaning behind that etiquette.
"Please," groaned Elfman, "Let me fight too."
"No you can't—" but Lisanna couldn't even finish her berating before a massive beam of magic knocked Elfman clear out of the rune circle.
"Shit," ground Talia, her hands coming together before her, fingertips touching and a silver ball of magic forming in the space between. "Lisanna, go bring your brother back." A matching sphere around the infirmary tent caught the grey light and pulsed rhythmically. All three at once. I was hoping we'd have at least a little bit of time between each.
"If we don't beat you, Master Hades is going to be angry—real angry!" came the absentminded voice of a large mage at the back of the clearing.
"We won't let him down," called the dog-mage, "Besides, thanks to the bedlam you've caused our guild—"
"We'll be promoted to the Seven Kin of Purgatory once we get rid of you and your friends!" the chicken chimed.
Levy readied herself for defense: "No way!"
"Wait—" called Freed, "We have to restore the enchantment first." Or else Talia can't fight.
"But Freed!"
"Get up, Bickslow," he ordered, voice steady, "Take them out."
From across the glade, the seith mage unwound himself to his extraordinary height. He sounded tired, but that characteristic laugh under his voice was still there. "You've got it. Just leave 'em to me!"
Talia had to admit: she was proud of those boys. A small smile crept to her lips as she watched Bickslow ready his attack. Those soul casks did what they do best—long-range attacks. Each battered the chicken-mage brutally, but the script mage was clearly the better fighter.
"Seith magic? Well in that case—" he threw a massive protection rune imbued with holy magic before him, and Bickslow's babies careened uselessly against it.
"Not too shabby," Bickslow groaned, his breathing heavy, "You guys do know how to put up a good fight, now don't cha."
The dark mages cackled maliciously. "Mess with Grimoire Heart and you'll find yourself in a world of pain." "It's time to finish you off. Prepare to die!"
Magic cards sliced between the mages, and they suddenly had to dodge.
"Nice timing," said Talia dryly. Keeping up this shield was quickly draining her energy. Not her magic, she had plenty from all that thunder, but just the focus it took to keep all those sound waves in their space around the camp. She had never made a shield this big before.
A battered and dirty Cana appeared just inside the glade. "I've had enough of you guys. You've disrupted the trial. You've hurt my friends. And now you're attacking the injured?" Her eyes were tired and livid. "If anyone is going to find themselves in a world of pain, it'll be you two."
But Freed had somehow mended the enchantment. He caught Talia's eye and nodded. She gratefully broke her shield, the silver magic dripping down and lost in the silvery light of the rain.
"Hurry to Lisanna's side," Freed ordered the card mage evenly. Cana began to argue, but saw Talia stride out from beside the infirmary tent. She didn't like it, but she understood.
"You two really shouldn't push yourselves. We'll need reserves in case more of these vermin pop up." Her voice was venom—the time for temperance was over. Talia was tired enough that she didn't want to have to hold back anymore. Her eyes had already started pearling.
Freed and Bickslow nodded in recognition and relief. If today was going to hold this many fights, they'd take whatever reprieve they could get.
"You—" Talia snarled, her glare on the script mage, "Mongrel. Have you even the understanding of why we created that etiquette?"
"Who cares," he sneered back.
Her rage finally snapped. The wisps of white dress that had started to form to her body bled black and tightened around her skin, and her eyes burned away the silver pearling.
"Your mangled corpse will wish you had." She was still somewhere between her forms—the madness of the Banshee twisting into something darker, older; something practiced in putting heads on pikes. Her fingers twitched; that savage pull returned—the sounds of bones snapping, flesh tearing, the shiver of limbs as the lifeblood was dragged out of their veins. She wanted it. She wanted all of it.
Her magic power was overwhelming. Freed clutched his hand over his mouth and put a hand on one of the infirmary's support beams. He felt like he was going to be sick. He couldn't just feel her magic, he could taste it too. That thick metallic tang of iron was everywhere—like he was drowning in his own blood. He swallowed heavily, but the taste lingered. Talia was blackened now, those massive black wings behind her. But this overwhelming pressure; that was new. She had used the sheer force of her magic before as intimidation, but it never felt like this.
He watched her dispatch with the clucking mage the same way she had with Bickslow earlier—a quick beat of those wings, and she launched him into the forest: straight through at least four old-growth tree trunks. She turned back to the Eastern Script mage. The poor creature seemed to realize the mistake he had made.
"To fight and fall is one thing," her voice split and shadowed, "A single instance of trickery is borne," her gaze was predatory, "but a habit such as this—"
Of all the things he'd seen thus far, the most horrifying was her smile. It pulled at a visceral terror, even from this distance. The Grimoire Heart mage must have been either stubborn or stupid as hell to still face her down.
The mage tried to throw a rune at her, but she waved it away with a graceful hand and sent it hurtling back against its master. A sound pulse crushed him from above, crunching him against the earth below. The pressure eased, but after only a moment another pulse crashed into him. Freed thought he heard a bone snap. A grotesque giggle worked its way out of her throat.
"Manners," she cooed, "are not," another pulse into the dirt, "just for," another crack, "the meek." The pulses stopped and she stared down the dog's battered form. His arm was clearly broken, and he was shaking with pain and fear. But this was going too far. A cold realization settled into Freed's stomach. He needed to stop this.
Child, called the Old One, Child, come back to me.
There was a pressure on her arm. Warm and light, but firm. She felt the Old One's call, and she took a breath. Her heart rate slowed. The blood in her ears quieted. That desperate hunger. . . lessened.
"Talia." That was Freed's voice. Red eyes softened slowly back to green; the black magic on her skin dissipated in twisting tendrils. The air around her softened. She looked down to the Grimoire Heart mage, anger still present, but a low simmer compared to the uncontrolled fire from before. She took a shaky breath.
"Battle etiquette is an equalizer," she said quietly, "The strong use it because they have been weak. The weak use it because they want to be strong. It is an acknowledgement of growth and skill." Freed released her arm and they both turned back to camp. "Because there will always be someone stronger," she finished over her shoulder. They walked back to their friends in the pouring rain.
What was that? She called to the Old One, but to her surprise Morrigan answered.
The lifting of a safeguard is not to be underestimated, Little One. It will take time for you to acclimate to the power. This—Talia could feel her black eyes casting over the memory of the Eastern Script mage—is the call of my power. It can be devastating when unchecked. Stay steady. Stay strong. You will learn to manage it.
Talia let out a shallow breath as they came back to the infirmary tent.
"Are you alright?" Freed's voice was gentle. She nodded.
"Morrigan, she. . . lifted a barrier when the Tenrou tree fell. It's why I could keep fighting." Her brows furrowed in thought, "But her power is addicting, especially in anger. I was so angry. . ." She brought her hand up and pressed the pressure point between her eyes. "I need to be better at controlling it, but all of these fights are just wearing through. . ."
"You don't need to explain," she was grateful for the assuredness and warmth of his voice. "Besides, nobody really trains for a day like today."