CHAPTER 55: THE CITY MUST SURVIVE


A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry, this chapter took a bit longer to be posted. I got Covid and couldn't write much for two weeks while I was sick. I got a high fever for a few days, but otherwise, I didn't have any severe symptoms. The brain fog was quite terrible though, but I'm okay now.

Anyway, about the chapter itself. When a city is attacked by a dragon (aka. flying creature of mass destruction) the results aren't pretty, so this will be upsetting for sensitive readers.

PS. There are a few lines of dragon language in this chapter. They are meant as cryptic messages, but if you want, you can use /translator to "decode" them.

PPS. "The City Must Survive" comes from Frostpunk's soundtrack, and that fits the mood perfectly.


'Which gods do you pray to?' Lucy had once asked him.

'Fire,' he had answered. 'Because gods don't even exist, but fire is here.'

Fire exists, fire is alive. It eats anything from wood to flesh, breathes air like humans do. Fire grows, spreads, creates new fires, fights for its territory, it loves and hates. As I've watched humans living lives they despise, I think that fire is more alive than we are. Fire knows that nothing can stand in its way, it knows it's free. Fire doesn't settle, doesn't tolerate, doesn't get by. It has the power to change the world, power to burn it to the ground, which means that fire is a god.

The only god there is.

Now, as Natsu witnessed the fire spreading from building to building, turning trees into ashes, engulfing men like oil-soaked torches, he fully understood the meaning of his words. Fire, in all its beauty, had the power of a god. Destructive, devastating, desolating – it was something to be afraid of, something to bow down to – yet still, he failed to feel any fear. Fire had always been, and would always be, on his side.

Even dragonfire.

If he had to, he'd force it to be.

The townsfolk looked up, their faces pale as the dragon drifted over them. The air that had stood still for so long finally gushed forward along its wingstrikes, stirring the panicked crowd into motion. The toll of the bells buried the screams, the names of loved ones, yet Natsu could barely hear anything anymore. For a brief moment, the scenery brought him back to Helgen, to the day when he had seen a dragon for the first time.

Back then, he had stood frozen amidst the destruction, finding absolutely nothing to grasp on. The infernal chaos, the desperation, it was the same as tonight, and he felt exactly as hollow in the heart as he did then. Only when he had caught a glimpse of Lucy, he had found the strength to move past that still point. There had been something to hold onto, the red string of fate to follow. Now, she was taken away from him, and once again, he found himself petrified in catatonia.

The red dragon soared through the air, flying so low its wings scraped the rooftops. It inhaled air, exhaled flame.

"YOL – TOOR – SHUL!"

Natsu recognised those words amongst the fire, the blast spreading on the street that lead to Mistveil Keep. Where there had been people searching for shelter from the halls of the city castle, were now scorched corpses and piles of ashes – such was the tragedy the dragons left in their wake. That would soon become the fate of Riften, sealed in fire and blood.

Paralyzed, he gazed into the fires burning at the distance, creeping closer each with every tiny breath. Natsu lowered his head, clenching his fingers against his palms. Since he had first caught Lucy's hand in the ruins of Helgen, he had known that she'd be his light, his reason, the only purpose, and that hadn't changed. Nothing could ever change it. Even if he couldn't see her now, he knew Lucy was somewhere out there, lost within the city aflame.

And he'd go through every blaze just to get her back.

Then he felt a catalyst renewing his hollow heart, the same one that had put him into motion in Helgen. Upon an instinctive force, he turned around without a second thought. He rushed back to the tavern through the open doors. It hadn't been long since he left, but now he knew that a frantic search in the crowded streets would be a death sentence. He had to get a clue about where Lucy had gone, and their bedchamber would be the only place to find one.

Ignoring the confused stares of those few who'd stayed in the inn, Natsu turned to the stairway. He only made it to the first step when he was suddenly stopped. Someone grabbed him from the shoulders and pulled him back. Natsu cursed as he saw the distraught face of the older mage, urgent fire burning in his eyes.

"What do you mean Lucy is gone!?" Gildarts shouted as loud as he could to have his voice heard over all the chaos. "If she's… If she's truly the –"

Natsu shook his head, squirming to get free from his hold, but Gildarts's grip was too strong. "I don't know! She said she'd go to sleep, but now she's not there!"

"How in Kynareth's name is she not there!?"

"I don't fucking know, and I don't have the time to –"

"What? Is Lucy missing?" Loke shouted, running closer to them. He must've not heard it earlier. When the dragon had attacked, he had secured his brother first. Now, fear danced across his face like a shadow. "But she told me that she…"

"She what?" Natsu hissed, wriggled so strongly that Gildarts had to let him go. Natsu sprinted to Loke, caught him from the neckline of his shirt and pressed him against the wall. "You know something that I do not?"

"Lucy, she…" Loke stuttered, his voice so quiet that Natsu barely heard it. "She told me she needs to have a moment alone tonight. She asked me to keep you distracted until… until…"

"Until what!?"

"… until she'd get back," Loke gulped, and Natsu's heart sunk. "I thought she'd just… well, amuse herself, then come back here! I didn't think she'd actually go somewhere! You even locked the door, right? Then how the fuck did she just disappear?"

Devastated, Natsu's grip on Loke loosened. The Nord's legs caved in underneath him, and slowly he drained against the wall and seated on the floor. Natsu squeezed his eyes shut, cursed and wiped his mouth into his palm. Lucy hadn't gone to amuse herself, not nearly.

She had gone to kill Grelod the Kind.

He had known. Damn it, he had known all the time that something was terribly wrong, yet he had denied his gut instinct, trusted in her words, for he had never thought she could lie to him like this. He had truly, sincerely believed in her, only to be blinded by the childlike trust and have it unravelled in the worst possible scenario. She had planned it all – and only a dragon had been missing from her calculations.

Before he'd faint, Natsu had to sit down. His guts twisted into a miserable knot, sinking to the bottom of his body. Shame, shock, distress, he felt it all at once, the emotions burying him like a landslide. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he told her goodnight, but she would've made it to the orphanage by now. Lucy was on the other side of the city, way too far away.

"I know where she is," Natsu muttered, avoiding the older mage's stare with his head buried in his hands. "Damn it. She's gone back to Honorhall to…" The words got stuck in his throat like thorns, but it was enough to let the others know where she was. What she was doing, or had already done, didn't matter just now.

"Then you must get her back, Natsu," Gildarts said. The confusion from his tone had worn out, as if he could now see why they'd been lying to him the whole time. "That's your most important mission now. If Riften means to avoid the fate of Helgen and Rorikstead, we must find her and fast. I can try to distract the dragon and keep it on this side of the city meanwhile, but you have to hurry."

Natsu nodded faintly. While Lucy was strong, she had never faced a dragon in a battle alone. The last time, in Labyrinthian, she would've been killed without her team's help. Natsu could still remember the moment of terror when he'd watched her disappear into the blizzard, sure that he lost her, yet he couldn't surrender to the same fear now. It crept up on his throat like a shadow of death, strangling, suffocating, but he forced himself to remain calm. He had a mission. He had to focus on it.

"While I try to find her, I can also fight the dragon," Natsu whispered with determination, lifting his gaze to Gildarts. A Dragonborn he might not be, but he had still developed an efficient technique against them, and the old Blade was aware of that. "I can try to bring it down. Even if I couldn't kill it, that would keep it from destroying the entire city."

Gildarts nodded in silent agreement, but before he could say anything, Loke turned to them as Haming helped him back on his feet. "What… What are you talking about?" the young Nord asked, his voice shaking. "Are you really going to fight that thing? We gotta escape. That's the only way. We gotta find Lucy and bring her to safety, before –"

"No," Natsu answered strictly, standing up as well. "We're going to slay it. And that's where we need Lucy."

Loke shook his head, his eyes widening as he tried to understand his words. Haming looked down and sighed in both surprise and relief – the older brother was quicker to put together the right pieces. Up to this day, Natsu had tried to keep Lucy's identity as the Dragonborn tightly sealed, but tonight those seals of secrets would be broken. Might the whole city witness her heroic deeds, he couldn't care less.

"There's no time to explain, Loke. We need your help, too," Gildarts said then. "While we speak, people are dying out there. You and your brother survived Helgen, so you can help the townspeople survive as well. Escort them to safety! The dungeons of Mistveil Keep, or even –"

"Ratway," Haming answered, sharp and straightforward. "The underground is the safest place now. We could lead the people down the docks and into the tunnels. Most of the guards are bound out there fighting the dragon, and we know better than anyone how the chaos kills just as much as the beast does."

Frowning, Loke glanced at his brother. "But in that state, you can't –"

"I ain't gonna sit here while another city burns to the ground. Riften is our home now," Haming said. His crutches clattered against the wooden floor as he began heading towards the door. "I don't need two legs to help people, and you'd better make yours count too, little brother. Let's go."

Loke hesitated for a moment, as if wanting to stop his brother from limping into an early grave, but then he ran to Haming before he reached the door. They both knew what it felt like to lose a hometown to a dragon's flames, and didn't want it to happen again. Loke saluted to Gildarts and the others before they went, and the old mage smiled after them. While Natsu admired their bravery, he doubted if he'd see either of the Nord brothers again.

"Juvia can go help them!" shouted a woman. Natsu turned his head towards the voice, seeing Juvia dragging Gajeel from the corner of the tavern. Natsu hadn't paid attention to their presence, and they seemed to have been waiting for someone to take control of the situation. "Juvia and mister Gajeel know other routes to the Ratway. Can't have all the people flock at one entrance!"

Gildarts nodded, but even he seemed to notice Gajeel's resistance. The sight of fire from the windows made the vampire's face twist in dread. Natsu knew how a single spark was enough to set them alight like try leaves, and from that, he got an idea. He grabbed Juvia's arm before she made it to the door.

"Juvia, you could conjure rain, right?" Natsu said, and the woman answered with a quick nod, blankly staring at him with those deep blue eyes. "I need you to conjure the greatest storm you ever can. Otherwise, the fire overtakes us faster than we do it."

There were barrels of water lined on the streets in case fire would spread from hearths, but those were little help against dragonfire. That was death from above, pouring down without mercy. Heavy rain was the only way to fight those fires, or at least slow them down. On this day, Juvia's curse turned into a blessing.

"Juvia will do that, but she needs time to prepare it," she answered.

"I can keep you guarded meanwhile," Gildarts said to her, then turned towards the vampire. "Gajeel, you could help people board the boats at the docks. We can't fit everyone into the tunnels, but some of the townsfolk can escape to the lake."

Gajeel and Juvia glanced at each other, then he nodded. If he'd stay in the city, he'd surely be incinerated, so he agreed to the Blade's plan without uttering a word.

"Good. Now we all have something useful to do," Gildarts said. "Let's get to it."

In Helgen, the attack had been most unexpected, like a lightning from clear skies, and the devastation had been as complete. But now, there were people who had survived that, there were ones that could fight a dragon. And for that, there was also hope that Helgen never had.

Today, the city must survive.

Then, before they separated, Gildarts turned to the fire mage one last time. "And Natsu," he started, smirking, "go give it your worst!"

Natsu answered with a grin, then sprinted up the stairs.

Through the darkness, he ran to the bedchamber as the bells tolled in the distance, ringing the melody of doom. Now he knew where Lucy was, and he'd get there faster through the rooftops than the crowded streets. So, Natsu pushed open the window, but froze at the sight.

Between the barren tree branches, he could see down to the streets and the marketplace. Parents shoved their screaming children under the carriages, elders took shelter in the booths, a young man jumped into the well with his infant daughter in his arms. There was no sight of the dragon, but its roars could be heard across the distance, each shout from its throat making the nightmare more real. Loke and Haming were down there, yelling commands to the masses, a futile effort of bringing order to the chaos.

'What did Lucy feel when she climbed through this window?' Natsu thought. 'Did it hurt to feed me those lies and break her promises?'

Natsu took a deep breath, the strong scent of smoke emptying his mind. Finding her was the only thing that mattered to him now, the aftermath had to wait. He reached over the windowsill and using the branches as a ladder, he made it to the roof. Tearing his eyes away from the spreading fires on the horizon, he turned his gaze to the south, where Honorhall was. The houses were built close to each other, the alleys between them narrow, and so his mind formed a pathway to his goal.

Then he went.

He ran across the roof, reached the edge, and jumped. He landed on top of another house, got back on his feet, ran again. Black clouds marched on from the lake, a promise of rain, yet still too far away. Natsu glanced at the dragon as flames stroke on Mistveil Keep, as if destroying the city castle was one of its targets. A never-ending string of curses left his lips, he hurried forward, then leapt across another alley.

"Hear me, citizens of Riften!"

Natsu halted when he heard Gildarts's thundering voice, coming down below. He turned his eyes to the plaza, seeing the old mage standing high atop a turned-down trading cart, his arms spread out wide as his cloak swayed in the wind.

"This day, it has begun! The end times are now upon us, just as the prophecies have foretold. But we must not surrender to our fear. A prophecy tells what may be, not what should be! This is not our doom – this is our battle! This is our war, and we will fight for the future of mankind!"

The people slowed down, stopped by to listen like a herd gathered around their shepherd. Encouraging words weren't the only thing they needed now – they needed a leader. The Jarl was stuck in her palace, the guards and soldiers were at the gates and walls fighting the dragon with their lives at stake. Who would be better at leading them if not the last member of the ancient Dragonguard?

"I know you're afraid, but believe me, this time there's hope! The Dragonborn is here with us, but we can't let her face that thing alone. We're all honorbound to fight the dragon, even if we fail. Many of us could die trying, but for the sake of our fallen brethren, we must keep fighting! The dragon's threatening our homes, our families! Could you call yourselves Nords if you ran from this monster?"

Silence fell, but then a young boy cheered among the crowd, raising his fist to the air. Twelve or thirteen, way too young to witness this destruction, yet way too young to die either. Soon, other voices joined the choir. Natsu smiled at himself with hope in his heart, then he ran to the edge of the roof, jumped to another house. As long as the fires wouldn't reach this part, he could make it.

"So, do you hear Sovngarde beckoning? Deny it! Today, we deny the odds, we deny our deaths! Grab your bows and make every arrow count! Unsheathe your swords and strike for the heart! Now, what do you say? Shall we go us kill a dragon?"

Then, there came an order to the chaos. Courage, bravery, determination to live. Men picked up their weapons upon Gildarts's command, and women carried their children into safety after Loke's and his brother's lead. Words carried on in the panicked crowd, directions were given, the weaker were helped – only united they'd survive. This land had been torn in half for too long, but tonight, they were all brothers and sisters, facing the true enemy of mankind together as one.

Natsu reached the wall that divided the districts of the city, and without stopping for a moment, he kept running forward on the crest. He lifted his eyes to the skies when he heard a roar, but Natsu couldn't see the dragon until a wingstrike pushed him off his feet. He slammed on his stomach as the dragon soared right overhead him, heading south. He cursed, but before he could get back up, the dragon's mighty voice filled the smoky air.

"VEN – GAAR – NOS!"

Directed to the burning building, a whirlwind under the dragon's command lifted the flames skyward like a tower made from fire. With the fury of a cyclone, the flames spread, turning trees into torches and houses into pyres. Natsu's heart wrenched as people charged through the windows as they escaped the fires, their screams silenced when they hit the ground below. Some of them rose, confusedly carried on running despite their wounds, but some of them went still.

And Natsu decided that he couldn't run from this monster either.

'Yeah,' he thought, answering the Blade's speech in his mind. 'It's time to kill us a dragon.'

He stood up, his gaze following the dragon as it landed on top of the gatehouse, stone crumbling under its weight. Its scales were copper red like dried blood, and massive horns adorned its head, spikes running down its spine. This was larger than Sahloknir or Krosulhah, its aura radiating cunningness and bloodlust unlike anything Natsu had witnessed before. 'Why has it come here?' he thought. 'Has it sensed the Dragonborn's presence? But if it wants her dead, he could've levelled the city to the ground already…'

Then Natsu realised that maybe the dragon wanted her alive – and he wouldn't let that happen.

He crouched, swiftly pulled out the Skyforge Steel dagger draped in his ankle. Charging the dragon-slaying spear to its full power would take him a moment, but it was the best he could do now. Unlike the last time, today he hadn't exhausted all his magicka. If he was careful, he could make it enough for launching the spear twice. One dragon, two tries to bring it down, and no room for failure.

Natsu glanced down at the dagger, his pale face reflecting from the surface as he set it on fire. This was the same weapon he used to bring down Krosulhah, the left one, the stronger one, so maybe it had the same luck tonight.

Calm and focused, he shut out the tolling of the bells and the screams of dying men. He poured more magicka into the spell, and when the shape of the spear was starting to take form as again, he cut the restrains, and let the fire flood freely from his heart into the weapon.

His soul was made from fire, he had always known, so now he forged those flames like a silversmith with mastery that had taken him a lifetime to achieve. Woven from the strings of sorcery and flame, the dragon-slaying spear was slowly perfected, as long as he was tall, radiating the heat of an inferno into the cold and dark night. Natsu held on to it tight, opened his eyes and searched for the dragon.

There it was, breathing fire as it landed on the watchtower near the eastern gate. Clouded in black smoke, yet still visible as it lashed its tail at the gatehouse, as if it was trying to ruin all exits. Distracted for a heartbeat, Natsu wondered why. The dragon couldn't see him, but he knew the spear would reach it, as the flames would carry it forward to its target. It was best to strike while the dragon was still down. Now.

And without wasting no more time, Natsu locked his aim, lifted the weapon above his shoulder, the spearhead pointing at the dragon's chest.

Carefully, he stepped forward on the wall's uneven surface, then he took another step. Keeping his balance, he rapidly gained more speed, gathering enough momentum for the throw. The dragon turned its head towards him, its attention drawn to the condensed inferno directed in its way. It might've deflected a rain of arrows, avoided the thunderbolts of the battlemages, but this one it wouldn't dodge. Natsu had decided so.

He'd bring the massacre to the end with this one shot.

Before Natsu reached the edge of the wall, he swung his arm far behind his head and checked his aim one last time. A satisfied smirk crossed his face, but in half a heartbeat, it was gone. Just when he was about to throw the missile, the dragon opened its mouth.

"ZUN – HAL – VIIK!"

The shout defied steel, ripping the weapon from Natsu's grasp.

Separated from its creator's hold, the spear flew to the air and exploded above him, all the overcharged magicka collapsing with the strength of a lightning strike. A blinding whiteness filled his vision as it swept across the city, followed by the rumbling of thunder. A wave of intense heat crashed against his body. The pressure wave threw him off his balance, face-first to the stone.

What… happened?

Pain throbbed in his forehead, warm wet blood flowing down his skin. As the sparks floated through the air, spinning down like gentle snowflakes, Natsu turned his ringing head towards the skies. Amongst the blackest smoke, there was a bright sphere of light, like a descended star. It took a moment for him to understand that was the remains of his crumbled spell. His fire rained down, a million sparks unleashed, setting aflame everything in its wake.

I… failed?

He gasped in a ragged breath as flames began to grow around him, like tiny seedlings weaving their roots into the frail wooden roofs, turning them into a field of fiery flowers. The flames reflected from his eyes as he watched the city lighting up like a draught-ridden forest, all because of his tremendous failure. Through the ringing in his ears, he could still hear the screams growing louder, more pained, more frightened, and for this once, he was distraught by what he had done.

A sudden gust brought in a hot lash of air. A shadow soared over him, and the wall quaked as the dragon landed behind him. Natsu squeezed his eyes shut as the dragon's stare pierced through his back, sharp like razorblades. It was so close that he could smell its breath, but he didn't even care. The sight of the burning city was imprinted on his vision, bringing shivers down his spine, twisting his guts until he almost threw up.

"Hi los ni Dovahkiin, yol zii, nuz hi lost yolos se dov," the dragon spoke, ancient words rising from its throat like rough-edged swords. "Zu'u dahmaan hi, kruziik fron."

Still shivering, Natsu stood up and wiped the blood from his eyes. His legs felt beavered, like all power had been drained out of him. Casting the spear had taken a lot more magicka than he had presumed. He sighed a curse, then turned around and faced the dragon from eye to eye.

"I can't understand shit you're saying, ya great scaly cunt."

The dragon stared at him in silence. To Natsu's luck, the beast knew not the insults of the mortals that he had thrown in his frustration. Just why would the dragon speak to him anyway? It could've killed him right there, so why it didn't?

"Krosis. Forgive me, it has been long since I've held tinvaak with a stranger. I forget joorre speak not dovahzul, but I'm not here to discuss for long," said the dragon, keeping long pauses as it searched for words in the human tongue. "It's the Dovahkiin I seek, and you are not one. But you… no. Hin yol. Your fire. That I've known before…"

Frowning, Natsu stared into the dragon's yellow eyes. "And what do you know about my fire?"

"That is not the fire of joorre, but a flame of dov. How it came to be, I know not. Hold it you might, but you still do not understand yol as the dovah do. No… not nearly," it answered. "But I'm eager to witness what you can do with the flame you've been given. So behold my Thu'um! Feel it in your bones and bear it, if you truly are deinmaar… a keeper!"

Natsu shook his head, still unable to understand what the dragon meant. The beast opened its mouth, inhaled, and at that moment, Natsu knew what would follow.

Inferno.

"YOL – THOOR – SHUL!"

As the dragon's words were forged into flame, Natsu ducked and crossed his arms in front of his face, reflexively pouring fire into a steadfast ward. A contest of flames commenced, and in his heart, he knew he could not lose. His only god couldn't forsake him now.

The dragonfire enveloped him in intense heat, repelled from his flames, just like once before when he had been caught in Sahloknir's Thu'um. This was stronger, fiercer, hotter, as if Sahloknir's fire had been mere candle flame compared to a roaring wildfire. Back then, he had believed it had been Igneel's enchanted scarf that protected him, but now, he knew it wasn't. It was his own fire that kept him from being burned to ashes.

For fire had always been on his side.

When the flames of the dragon's Thu'um dissolved, Natsu stood unburnt amongst the smoke. He let his ward expire and commanded the little firelings around him to die. They faded out, becoming swirls of smoke that rose skywards to join the storm clouds.

Determined, Natsu glared at the dragon with anger sparking in his eyes. Moisture began to condense in the air. It would rain at any moment – a new enemy was joining the fray, but Natsu had decided to end the battle before the first drop would fall.

"Yes… it is true," the dragon said, as if eager. "Now, match my flame. Answer it! Let me remember the name of the dovah whose fire you have inherited!"

Inherited?

Keeping his gaze locked with the beast's, Natsu tried to focus on its words, yet there were no answers to be found in those age-old eyes. The voices of the Nord brothers carried up to him from the streets below as they shouted orders to the citizens. Between the tolling of the bells, Natsu could hear Gildarts's loud cursing as flashes of white light put down the flames. They were fighting to keep the city safe with their own lives at stake – and now, that the dragon had challenged him into a duel, Natsu would also give it his very worst.

He'd pour every bit of flame into his last spell.

The dragon's shout had torn his weapon out of his grasp, so this time, Natsu wouldn't rely on steel. It was fire against fire, a death match to determine the strength of their flames. He had failed before, but he wouldn't fail now. It wasn't his home the dragon was threatening, but something far more important to him: Lucy.

His everything.

All dread and distress in him turned into rage, a familiar blazing feeling that gave him the strength to protect the one he loved the most. Natsu put his faith in the fire within him as he set the first sparks aflame on his palms, opened the gates to his soul that kept it detained. He pushed past his limits, like pushing the doors of Oblivion and letting all the demons swarm out, he unleashed his fire like never before.

His senses began to fade as the blaze around him intensified. The wall's crest began to crumble under his feet, but he barely noticed as he carried on, ever gathering more fire into the formless spell. It wasn't a spear or a sword, it was a storm. Ceaseless, ever-raging chaos, a discharge of energy that ignited the air itself. It escaped from his control as he let the reigns go – he was merely a vessel, a gateway to bring this fire to the world, and when the fire was all he could see, the spell reached its breaking point.

In the form of a raging firestorm, a demon was released from its chains.

Caught within the raging explosion, Natsu and the dragon both disappeared into the ocean of flames. The blast cast him upwards, sending him flying across the burning air – then came the pain. Piercing, scorching pain washed through him, starting from his heart until his very soul was screaming in agony, but he knew it wasn't enough, not yet. He kept pouring more flame into the blaze, more and more and more until it would be hot enough to kill him a dragon.

Even if it would kill him too.

Yet before he could understand it, he was caught by someone. Strong arms wrapped around him, that was all he knew. He was dragged through the flames, a voice shouted his name, shouted again, but at that moment, he couldn't remember being Natsu.

When the flames faded from his vision, the world was upside down, with collapsed buildings hanging from the skies and a bright lake of fire as the ground. The world spun when he was thrown around, and his name was shouted once more. Faintly, he saw the outlines of an older mage standing before him, keeping him still from the shoulders, and then Gildarts's face formed from the mist of firelight.

"Natsu! Are you still with me?" Gildarts shouted, but Natsu couldn't answer. He just looked at him through partly closed lids, unable to move or speak. "That's… Did you just cast Firestorm?"

He did not know.

Natsu's blurry gaze moved from the mage to the skies behind him. The blackest storm clouds blanketed the city under the promise of upcoming rain. As the first drops fell on Natsu's cheeks, they vaporized the instant they hit his skin. Was that Juvia's rain? The drops were gentle, calming like her eyes had been, deep blue melancholy that emerged into an utter downpour.

And through the veil of pouring rain, the dragon flew once more, its wings set ablaze.

Gildarts picked the barely conscious fire mage into his arms, shielding him with his torn body as the dragon landed in the smouldering ruins of the city wall. It roared painedly while fire licked its scales, the copper red turning into charred black. Blood flowed down to its chest and dripped to the ground. A cloud of heavy steam surrounded it as the rain came to smother those flames – ironically, the water that was meant to save the city would now save its destroyer as well.

"Yes… Agnoslok, zeymah, without a doubt! It has been so long since I've felt your flame. Sizaan wah fin bok," spoke the dragon, its voice hoarse from agony, wounded by Natsu's fire. "Yet it's beyond my comprehension how you even exist with dovahyol burning in your heart. Maybe that's why Alduin was unable to wake him. It seems his yol was stolen by the bruniike… the Akaviri… and then…"

Natsu closed his eyes, and all sounds around him began to fade. He struggled to stay awake, but weariness overwhelmed him, darkness eating away his consciousness like a swarm of hungry black moths.

"Enough of the riddles, dragon!" Gildarts shouted to the beast. The words reverberated in Natsu's head, distant like an echo in the far-away mountains. "By my honour as a Blade, I will –"

"Drem. Let the elder speak first. This kul… boy… would surely intrigue my thur, Alduin. But I, Odahviing, have another… obligation. It is the Dovahkiin I must bring to the Order, orin brit ro. Onikaan koraav gein miraad…"

"You're not going to have either of them!"

The dragon extended its long neck, taking support from the ground with its wings, then it shouted to the skies;

"MIL – MUR – NIR!"

The shout tore through Natsu's body, resonated in his shuddering bones until blood burst from his mouth with a violent jolt. His eyes opened, but he couldn't see, he merely felt the air brush against his face when the dragon rose on its half-burned wings. He just couldn't understand what was going on. Despite the powerful Thu'um, nothing had happened. What had it been?

Dazed, he gazed into the darkness, pain crushing him with a gigantic grasp. He coughed once, then again, only to gurgle on the blood that flooded within him as if he had opened a gate straight to his heart. The dark crimson liquid splattered on his robes. He failed to swallow from his shock, and as a strong hand clasped around his throat, he began to choke on it.

Is this how it ends for me?

Is this how I die?

The thought crossed his mind, transient yet still feeling so eternal, so final, but then Gildarts forced him down to lay on his side. Natsu felt a powerful slam against his back, then a second one, and on the third time, the bloody mass was removed from his throat with brute force. Gildarts grimaced at the sight, but relief flashed in his eyes when Natsu gasped for air.

"Don't move, son," Gildarts ordered sternly, then turned the boy on his back and placed his ghostly hand on Natsu's chest. "I don't know what the dragon was talking about, but you shouldn't have been able to cast that spell in years. Only the masters of destruction can do that without tearing their bodies apart from the inside, but you…"

Natsu wanted to grin, but it hurt too much. "You told me to… give it my worst… and so I did," he mumbled, but a blurt of blood silenced him. "…fuck."

"And almost died, idiot," Gildarts answered, then his ethereal hand sunk through Natsu's ribcage. He clenched his teeth in pain as cold, ghostly fingers wrapped around his heart. "Hold still. This only takes a while."

A bright light flashed amongst the darkness. With grand healing sorcery, the older mage repaired the injuries within the younger one, like a father who refused to let his son die in his arms. Piece by piece, Gildarts sewed together the ruptured veins and shredded lungs, restored broken bones and torn guts. Only when the pain began to fade, Natsu understood the gravity of his wounds, and the devastating strength of his own magic.

He could've been killed by that spell the instant he'd cast it.

As he drifted back and forth on the edge of his consciousness, distant words came back to him in the voice of a certain frost mage. Back then they had cut him like daggers, but now he realised each one of them had rung true.

… what you did in Labyrinthian was reckless. Absolutely foolish, out of control. You acted from your anger, not from the real mastery of magic – mastery of yourself. Your rage cast that spell, not you. And you know what happens to mages who let their emotions control their magic?

You guessed right.

They die.

Around them, the destruction and chaos carried on. The rain kept pouring on, and darkness grew when the flames were smothered. Natsu's vision began to return, yet he couldn't see anything else than the utter worry on Gildarts's face. It began to ease as colour slowly returned to Natsu's ashen skin when the healing was finished. With his ghostly hand, Gildarts wiped the blood from the younger mage's face, smiling sadly.

"What… What did the last shout mean?" Natsu whispered then, each word feeling like a thorned vine being pulled out of this throat. "It didn't seem to… do anything…"

The faint smile withered from Gildarts's lips. The dragon's roars echoed in the night, the bells had long ago gone quiet. "I don't know, but the dragon… if he truly is Odahviing…"

Still too weak to talk, Natsu just lifted his brow.

"One of the First Eight," Gildarts answered. "You never listened to anything I told you, didn't ya?" Natsu shook his head, grimaced from pain, and Gildarts grinned. "There isn't enough time to explain it all now, but the Eight were Alduin's generals. Their names are written within the Annals of the Dragonguard, and during the Dragon War, they –"

Gildarts was cut when a roar tore through the skies, carrying to them from the distance. Natsu turned his gaze towards the sound. There was a shape amongst the rain, in the steam and mist and smoke that filled the air, flying ever closer to them. With wings spread skywide, it soared down, landing on the highest building of Riften – the watchtower of Mistveil Keep.

Gildarts's jaw fell in shock. "Don't fucking tell me that the shout was a call for…"

Another dragon.

Only when Odahviing took flight, flapping its wings to stay afloat next to the smaller, grey-scaled dragon, Natsu realised that there were now two of them.

"Zu'u bel, thur Odahviing," the grey dragon said. "Los nii?"

"Milmurnir, fin deinmaar do Agnoslok yol los het," Odahviing answered. "Horvutah rok arkh drun wah Forelhost!"

The smaller dragon bowed its head in agreement. There was only one word that Natsu recognised, and that was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

Forelhost.

Blankly, Natsu stared at the skies as the grey dragon rose on its wings. Why did the dragon mention the headquarters of the Dragon Cult? It was infuriating to not understand their language, but his thoughts vanished when Odahviing turned its gaze towards the fire mage, looking him directly into the eyes as it shouted,

"LAAS – YAH – NIR!"

The voice hit his chest, but did not hurt, as if nothing had happened at all. He knew not what the words of power meant, only that it was best not to underestimate them. Natsu looked down as Odahviing took flight, and then he realised that he wore those words now like a stain. He couldn't see them, but he felt their mark on his soul, as if he was alone and naked in the darkness with a pair of serpent's eyes watching him.

"What… was that?"

Without explanation, Gildarts cast another spell on him. Natsu flinched as cold sorcery surrounded him, like enveloping him into a cloak where he could not be seen. Confused, he stared at the older mage.

"It marked your aura," Gildarts said then, a deep line forming on his forehead. "Imagine trying to find a single bee in the hive – that's how the dragons see us humans, so with the shout, it's now able to find you. I… I don't know why it did that, but my spell should cancel the effect for a while and hide you from its sight." He sighed a curse. "Natsu, you're still wounded, but we've gotta find Lucy now. Can you walk?"

Before the fire mage answered, Gildarts caught him from the armpits and pulled him on his wobbly feet. Natsu's head hung down as he struggled to find the strength to lift it. His blood had painted patterns on his robes, partially burnt despite the fire-resisting enchantments woven into the fabrics. He took a deep breath, then raised his gaze to find that a great portion of the wall had blown up with his spell. The sight nearly made him weep. The trees, the few surrounding houses, all were gone.

You can't control yourself, and you can't control your magic…

…and that's why it will destroy you.

"Lucy was headed in Honorhall, right? Then come on, this way," Gildarts said, tugging his arm to stop him from staring at the destruction. "Don't strain yourself now. You probably won't be casting a single spell today, but don't worry. A Dragonborn you might not be, but I'll still guard you with my life. I've got your back, son. Now and always. I promise."

Natsu nearly halted again, feeling a sharp stab in his heart. He had once hoped to hear those words from his father, but never did. Where his father would've just gladly watched his son die, Gildarts had stepped in and saved him, healed his grave wounds in the middle of a battle, then promised to keep guarding him with his life.

And now, Natsu finally learnt what a father was supposed to be like.

"Yeah," he answered with a shivering voice, his eyes glistening. This wasn't a good time for getting sentimental, but he couldn't fight it. "Thanks, Gildarts."

Gildarts grinned and nudged him to the side, so firm it hurt. "Save the tears for when we win, son. Let's go now."

Nodding faintly, Natsu wiped his eyes into his sleeve, a brief smile twitching on his lips.

Then, he followed the older mage as he guided him through the ruined streets, slippery in the heavy rain. He was slow at first, nearly stumbled into his own numbed feet, but gradually he gained more strength and speed. Breathing hurt when he ran, as if his lungs had been burned in the firestorm, then scarred for good. Still, Natsu ignored the pain when they jumped over a scorched corpse. It could be worse, Natsu thought, and carried on.

The marketplace was empty when they arrived there, the booths once full of goods lay now in ashes. Natsu could hear Loke's voice from the docks below the dryside. The young Nord shouted orders to the townsfolk, guiding them into safety. Not all of them had made it. Bodies were scattered across the plaza, burned or crushed below collapsed buildings. Natsu tore his eyes away from them, wondering how many deaths were on his account.

Too many.

As Gildarts lead him past the destroyed stores and burned houses, Natsu struggled to remember where they were. In a blink of an eye, the lively town had turned into scenery straight from Oblivion. Steam and smoke filled the air, washing away the stench of burned flesh. Juvia's rain was working exactly as they had hoped, smothering the flames and keeping them from spreading. But where was Juvia at the moment? Had she survived the explosion somehow? Natsu wanted to believe so.

They made it to the walkways on the upper level, where one could see to the lake. All the boats had been set to sail, cram-full of escaping citizens. The faint fires reflected from the calm surface of the water, lightning flashing on the horizon as thunder answered the dragon's roars.

Natsu lowered his gaze to the docks below. With frantic screams, people tried to fit into the last boats. They jumped to the frigid cold lake, their skin burnt and blistered, they tried to grasp the hulls of the boats only to be pushed aside with oars. One by one, reaching hands sunk below the surface.

For a moment, Natsu froze right there. Gildarts noticed as he halted by the railing, gazing to the lake where men drowned, choosing water's cold embrace over being burned to death. Once, Natsu had thought that fire was a merciful way to die. There's no blood, and the shock kills you fast. It hurts a lot for a short while, but then you just fall into a warm sleep. As the dark waters dyed red from the blood that seeped through their burns, even Natsu turned his eyes away.

Then, a roar tore him from the gloom, nearby and loud.

Natsu lifted his gaze, seeing the red dragon's silhouette through the mist. It was still searching – if a dragon couldn't find her, how could they? Did she even need to be found? Natsu's thoughts were cut when the grey-scaled dragon descended from the sky, falling on the open plaza behind them. Had the spell worn off so fast? Gildarts stepped closer to the wounded fire mage as the dragon moved forward and spoke,

"Brit grah! Zu'u lost saraan fah lingrah wah krii bruniike daar kriaan dii zeymah!"

Gildarts chuckled. "It's considered rude to talk in a language your opposer doesn't speak, lizard."

"Bo nah gut!" the dragon answered, loud and threatening. "Step aside. It's the boy that Odahviing asked me to bring to the Order. Fall back, or die in terror."

Gildarts extended his arm in front of the fire mage. "Natsu, you stay out of this. Run when I say so."

Natsu shook his head. He couldn't understand why the dragon was after him, but he couldn't just run away without a fight either. "But –"

"Just listen to me for once! Go and find Lucy while I keep this thing busy! You've gotta –"

"FUS – RO – DAH!"

The deafening sound of the shout carried to them with delay. Before Natsu could hear the words, Gildarts summoned a sturdy ward that shielded them both, gleaming blue light that stopped the dragon's unrelenting force. It pushed Gildarts back, his boots leaving marks on the muddy ground, but he kept the ward up with all of his strength.

A wicked grin crossed his lips when the shout faded, then he turned towards Natsu.

"NOW!" he shouted, almost as loud as the dragon.

Then Natsu ran.

'Don't you dare to die on me, old man.'

From here, he went out alone. He could barely recognise the streets and alleys that lead to the orphanage, but he knew he was getting close. Lucy most likely wouldn't be there anymore, but she'd be nearby, yet now he wondered what could he even do? He couldn't support her in a battle. He didn't have a crumb of magicka left – just as Gray had once lectured him, his own recklessness turned fatal once again. These regrets filled his mind as he ran through the narrow pathways, dodging collapsed walls and crumbling stones on his way.

Behind him, lights flashed in the darkness when mortal's magic contested against the dragon's. He glanced past his shoulder, faintly hearing the curses Gildarts shouted while tides of unknown sorcery were unleashed against the beast. Buildings around the battlefield shattered from the devastating strength of his unmatched magic. Another shout was met by a crushing wave of brute force, and the dragon howled in pain.

From the distance, Natsu heard a choir of terrified children. He followed the cries, and after a few turns, he finally made it to the orphanage. Honorhall stood amidst the ruins, black smoke rising skywards from the smouldering roof. A distraught woman tried to gather the children that ran aimlessly on the fenced courtyard, their screams growing louder when the red dragon soared directly above them once again. The wingstrike pushed them off their feet and they fell face first to the mud, turning their white nightgowns into brown.

Natsu ran to the tall gate, only to find it locked. He banged his fist on the iron bars. "Hey! What are you doing?" he shouted to Constance, hoping she would notice him from her terror. "You've gotta get out of here! Hey! Do you hear me?"

A boy – probably Samuel, as Natsu recognised him from the red mark on his cheek – came to him. "Hey, it's you! The mage, right? Did you come to save us?" he said, a spark of hope in his voice, then he turned his head towards the woman. "Constance! The mage came to help us!"

Constance's gaze searched through the courtyard, then it found the gate. She said something to the children, then she rushed to Samuel. She lifted her eyes from the boy to Natsu, flinching from shock as she saw his blood-smeared face. Natsu didn't even want to know how terrible he looked. Despite Gildarts had healed most of his wounds, the crimson stains on his skin and robes told he had gotten hurt, and bad.

"You –" Constance started, but Natsu interrupted her.

"There's not time to waste. People are evacuating the townsfolk into Ratway's tunnels. Take the children there. Come on, open the gate before it's too late."

Constance hesitated for a moment, but then she pulled a key from the pocket of her tunic. The old iron creaked open, then she turned towards the children. Natsu followed her to the courtyard.

"Listen, everyone! We're leaving now to the underground tunnels!" Constance began, but none of them paid any attention to her frail voice, drained by terror. "Hey, do you even hear me –"

"Alright, kids, if you don't want to fucking die, you listen to this lady now!" Natsu yelled as loud as he could, and then each of them heard. The screaming came to a halt, faced turned towards him. "Everybody, get up. Follow her nice and easy, and obey everything she says. Do you understand!?"

The children nodded, then they began to flock around Constance. The older children picked the smaller ones, whose legs refused to move from fear, into their arms. A girl, maybe three or four years old, cried after a ragdoll she had dropped to the ground, so Natsu hurried and picked it up. Quickly, he gave it back to the girl and turned to Constance, who began counting the children.

"Where's Grelod?" Natsu asked, nervous as he couldn't see the headmistress on the courtyard. Couldn't she be already…

"Dead."

Constance's answer was sharp and quiet. The woman's eyes went blank as she stared into nothingness, faintly shaking her head. Natsu sighed a curse and looked down – it had truly happened, then.

Lucy had already killed Grelod the Kind.

A part of him screamed that it couldn't be true. Lucy, his sweet and innocent Lucy couldn't be a murderer. She was warm, loving, and kind – she had been distraught when she had to take a life out of self-defence. He still remembered how she had collapsed on all fours, vomiting and screaming 'I killed her, I'm a monster.' The world was a cold, harsh place where only the strong survived, but had it been him who taught her that?

Had it been him who made her change?

While Natsu dazed out in shock, Constance braced herself and kept counting the children. She muttered their names, so fast and quiet that Natsu couldn't hear, then she formed the children into pairs and told them to hold tight on each other. But when she reached the last child, a panicked gasp escaped her lips. "Lyra! Gods, she was sleeping when… it happened, and I –"

Now that the other children had gone quiet, Natsu could faintly hear the youngest one crying inside the building. The chaos must've broken out just when Grelod had died, and in the turmoil, the baby girl who couldn't even walk was left behind. In that moment, Natsu knew she had to be saved. There wasn't anything he could do for Lucy now, but if he could save the life of just one little child, he wouldn't be completely worthless.

"Don't worry, I got her," Natsu said. "You get going with the other kids, now!"

Constance nodded to him, then swung her arms around his shoulders with tears in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered against his neck, then she let go and turned toward the children. "Come my sweet darlings, it's time to go. Stay in line and follow me, I'll get you into safety."

Then, another shout rumbled through the night.

"LOK VAH KOOR!"

Frightened, everyone looked up. The clouds were parting as the rain ceased, letting the smoke rise towards starlit skies. Has something happened to Juvia? Or did the dragon's shout force the rain to stop? Then, the voice faded away, and Constance began leading the children out of the courtyard.

As they left, Natsu hurried into the orphanage through the open doors. He ran past the entrance room into the dining hall. The girl wasn't there, but he heard the cries coming from the sleeping quarters. Rushing through the hallway, he made it to a large dark chamber filled with beds, and in the back corner, there stood a fair-haired baby in the crib. Alone and terrified, she was screaming her lungs out, tears pouring down on her small, round cheeks.

Natsu ran to her, lifted the baby into his arms, surprised by how light and fragile she was. He picked a woollen blanket from the crib and wrapped it around the child, securing his hold tight while supporting her neck with his other hand. Seemingly recognising him, Lyra clasped his robes, her hold firm as she kept on screaming.

"Hush now, it's going to be alright," he whispered to the crying child as he turned around to leave. "Let's take you into somewhere safe –"

Then, another roar tore through the wall.

The words were delayed – he only heard them when the entrance hall collapsed in its wake. Unrelenting force, Natsu recognised the shout. As the fires had gone down, the grey dragon kept destroying the city with its voice alone.

Has Gildarts lost already?

Cursing, Natsu crouched to dodge the flying splinters of wood and stone, shielded the crying child with his body. The roof had given in atop the entrance, black smoke began to fill the dining hall. Natsu had to find another way out, and fast.

Restoring his balance, Natsu turned and sprinted towards Grelod's chamber. The windows of the main hall opened to the courtyard that was now filled with debris, but they could have better chance escaping through the other room. Holding tight on the girl with his left arm, Natsu placed his right hand on the knob of the closed door, smelling blood through the wood. He grimaced, made sure Lyra's eyes were covered, then he stepped in.

The air in the dark chamber was cold, but condensed with the stench of iron. The window was flung open as if someone had left in hurry. Natsu's gaze moved down to the floor. Even in the darkness, he could clearly see the crimson pool below the bed. A thin, wrinkly hand hung over the bed's edge, the crone's fingers almost touching the blood below. Natsu halted, stared at the grisly scene with a twisted stomach. Lyra began to squirm in his hold.

"Don't look, girl," Natsu whispered, placed his hand back on Lyra's neck to keep her from turning her head. "Nothing to see here."

Grelod was still holding a dagger in her other hand that rested on her stomach, but Natsu knew she hadn't done that from her own will. There was a letter on the nightstand, and he knew Grelod hadn't written that by herself either. Had this truly been the reason Lucy had left without saying a word? Natsu closed his eyes, but the image of Grelod's slit wrists remained in his mind.

How could she?

Amongst the blood, Lucy's scent lingered in the air, faint and fading. Natsu bit through his trembling lip, felt the tears welling up, but he kept them back. He had decided he wouldn't shed a tear before the battle was won.

He braced himself, turned away from the scene and walked across the room to the window. It opened to the lower street outside the fenced courtyard. The fall wouldn't be too high for him, but what about the child in his arms? Lyra was too small to climb down by herself. He couldn't safely put her to the ground either, the only way was to jump and pray his ankles wouldn't twist. "Hold on tight," Natsu said to the girl, climbed on the windowsill, and pushed himself over the edge.

As he landed, his feet slipped on the wet cobbled stones. Swearing, he rolled down to his side to spread the impact more evenly, protecting Lyra at the same. The girl shivered in fear, but her screams had waned to feeble sobs. She kept her face pressed against Natsu's chest as he got back on his feet. His ankles hurt, but not too much, and he was glad Lyra didn't seem to be injured either. They had made it out of the orphanage in one piece. That was all that mattered.

Already exhausted beyond measure, Natsu took a deep breath. His heart pounded rapidly against his chest, the rushing adrenaline giving him the strength to carry on, but his wounds were starting to take their toll. Before he could rest, he had to get Lyra into safety. He lifted his head to study the alley he had arrived at. Then, out of sudden, his world came to a stop.

Below a pile of crumbled rocks, there was a fair-haired corpse.

"… Lucy?"

He whispered her name, frozen in place. There was no answer. He couldn't see her face, but he knew the woman wasn't alive anymore. Everything below her chest was buried under heavy stones, the ground below dyed dark red.

Slowly, Natsu took a step closer, then another. Again, he shielded Lyra's eyes with his hand, almost hoping someone would shield his, too. But this he had to see, even if it wrenched his heart apart. Natsu circled around the pile, preparing himself for the worst.

It wasn't her.

When he saw the face, relief washed over his distraught soul. The dead woman was older than Lucy, her features were distinguishably different, only her hair was exactly like Lucy's. For a brief moment, he had been sure it was her, and now he felt both confused and relieved that it wasn't. Just where in the Oblivion was she?

Dead, but somewhere else.

Natsu didn't know, and he didn't have time to ponder – he had to keep moving forward. In front of him, the narrow street seemed to lead to Mistveil Keep. The castle was in ruins too, but maybe some of the dungeons were still accessible. When he turned around, he found the route to the docks and down to Ratway was blocked by a pile of burning wood, leaving him with only one choice.

"Change of plans," Natsu said to the girl as he ran towards the castle. "Looks like I've gotta take you to the city keep, but don't worry. I'm sure Constance and the other kids will be okay. You'll see them again after –"

His voice was buried under a sudden, thundering blast, coming from the centre of the city. Ground quaked below his feet as blocks of stone and soil were thrown to the air with a colossal force.

Unable to understand what was happening, Natsu pressed his back against the stone wall to keep his balance and shield the baby from the pressure wave that swept through the city. Wind caught his hair, nearly ripping the girl from his arms, but his hold persisted. With a bated breath, he waited, listening as another chain of explosions shuddered down below, creeping ever near, puffs of blackest clouds seeping from the cracks on the street.

And when he realised those were coming from the Ratway's sewers, his heart sunk.

Lyra lifted her face from his chest, turning her eyes towards the rumbling noise that suffocated the distant screams. In silence, they both stared at the pillar of smoke that grew and grew and grew. Bright white flames reached high above the rooftops, dancing like deathly ghosts harvesting the lives with sharpest scythes. The wind carried a strange scent to him, similar to what the hot springs in the volcanic tundra.

Natsu shook his head in despair as he recognised the smell.

Once when they were exploring a Dwemer ruin, Igneel told him about the underground gas. It was invisible, but smelled foul like rotten eggs, and casting a single spark was enough to blow it up. How it came to be was unknown, but it gathered in the soil, sometimes seeping to the surface. The unrelenting force of the dragons must've quaked the earth deep within, cracking pathways for the exploding vapour to leak into the tunnels. And gods, how many sparks there had been waiting for it.

Dust and ash fell on him as he stared how the houses crumbled, how flames rose ever higher, almost reaching the dragons that soared above. The beasts inhaled air, exhaled fire, and another series of explosions swept through the city's centre. In his heart, Natsu knew that everyone in the Ratway was now dead, the haven now turned into a death trap. The forces of nature caught them all by a surprise.

If Constance and the orphans had made it there, it meant that he had sent them down to their doom.

The mage stood there frozen, gazing into the fire as his legs went limp. He collapsed down to his knees. Lyra pulled her tiny hand out of the blanket and pointed towards the smoke. "Mama?" she whispered, and then Natsu let the tears fall.

The battle was already lost, all hope extinguished, rising skywards with the smoke.

Natsu swathed his arms tighter around the child, burying his face into the blanket she was wrapped into. There wasn't any strength left in him, his will to carry on was utterly gone. Why fight this futile battle against the inevitable end? What was there even left to fight for? Lucy was probably dead. Gildarts, too. Juvia and Gajeel and Loke and his brother, Natsu was simply waiting for his turn to die.

"I'm sorry," Natsu sobbed against the girl. "I'm so sorry…" Then he lifted his head, looked the child into the emerald green eyes, gleaming in flames. "We'll both meet our mother's soon, right? Don't worry about it. Don't you worry…"

The dragons raged above them, so Natsu closed his eyes again, as if facing death would be easier when he wouldn't see it coming. Shivering, he embraced the girl tight and hoped it would be quick and painless for her. About himself, he didn't care. After his tremendous failures, maybe he deserved all the pain in the world.

With her tiny hand, Lyra wiped the tears from his cheeks. He tried to force a smile before they'd both leave to Aetherius, but he absolutely couldn't. His only solace was that at least the girl wouldn't have to die alone and abandoned in her crib – and he wouldn't have to die alone either.

But Gods, I don't want to die.

When had he been afraid of death? There was a faint, dream-like memory, as if he had been here before, but not for once had the thought of dying put fear in him. He had laid his head down on a block without fear, he had been begging for someone kill him on the third day of sanguinare vampiris, but this time, he felt like his life had never even begun. Lucy's smile flashed in her mind, faded, and then Natsu remembered.

It had been a dream. A nightmare, in which he had been in Helgen, shivering from fear as they dragged him to the block. He had lifted his gaze to the executioner standing at his side, and seen a beautiful girl instead of a big brute man in hooded robes. It had been Lucy, holding the axe so massive compared to her small frame. Steel had glimmered in the sunlight, eager to taste his blood, and then she had swung the axe.

Now he finally understood what the dream had meant.

Lyra pulled his blood-stained hair and cooed something, but Natsu couldn't hear. They were trapped within a burning, crumbling city with no escape, yet she still tried to make him smile. He was wounded and depleted of magicka, but still, deep within his heart, Natsu wanted to live. He didn't want to die like this, holding an innocent child in his arms. Could there still be a chance for them to survive, or would fighting only grant them more painful, delayed deaths?

"Mama," the girl said softly, pointing towards the city's tallest watchtower. It was outside the explosion's range, still intact. Natsu raised his head and glanced at it, but didn't see anyone out there.

"Sorry," Natsu muttered, tears pouring down on his face. "Your mama isn't there. She's... fuck, sorry. She's dead." Lyra gazed at him with her large eyes. "You don't even know what that means, right?"

Pain blinded his vision as his heart filled with immeasurable guilt. Because of him, Lyra's mother and siblings – Constance and all the other children, her family, yet not bound by blood – were most likely dead. She was too small to understand it, and that hurt the most.

Persistently, she kept pointing at the tower. Natsu shook his head as dragonfire rained down from the skies, blinding bright. The dragons contrasted against the clouds of smoke, the red one soaring towards them. Odahviing's wings were tattered by Natsu's firestorm, but it hadn't been enough to kill it, just as Gildarts's mighty magic hadn't been enough to kill Milmurnir. Nothing was ever enough, except Lucy, and now she was gone forever.

"Mama," Lyra whispered again.

This time, Natsu couldn't tear his eyes away from the approaching dragon. If it couldn't find Lucy, would it take him instead? Had it been his fire that the dragons and their twisted order wanted to steal? If it was, then he'd make sure they wouldn't get it, even if it was the last thing he'd ever do. His fire belonged to him. Still holding Lyra with his left arm, Natsu reached for the dagger draped in his right ankle.

He'd never give them the pleasure of taking him alive.

Just when his fingers fumbled on the dagger's hilt, a spear pierced through the skies.

Natsu's eyes widened at the unexpected sight. It came from the watchtower, flew faster than a whirlwind, aimed directly to the red-scaled dragon – and in half a heartbeat, it struck its target.

The roar of a dying dragon shuddered through the city.

It rained blood as the mighty beast spiralled down, a trail of fire following the descend. The spear had impaled it from below, right on the root of its left wing, the bloodstained tip coming out from its back.

The dragon spun around, desperately flapping its right wing, its pained roars rumbling like thunder, then growing silent when it landed somewhere in the wilderness outside city walls. Even across the distance, Natsu could hear the impact, a vigorous blast of a dragon hitting the ground.

Natsu turned his eyes to the watchtower once again, and this time, he found Lucy. Alive, and shrouded in light.

The smaller, grey-skinned dragon landed on the roof of Mara's Temple, stone and wood nearly giving in under its weight. It screeched from the bottom of its lungs after its fallen brethren, the sound ringing in Natsu's ears like a grievous dirge. The dragon turned it head towards the top of the watchtower where the Dragonborn stood.

"Ruth strun bah, Dovahkiin! Kren sosaal!"

"Aaz hah so," Lucy answered, an ethereal echo in her voice. "Dir ko maar, Milmurnir. Zu'u hin daan!"

Then, from the raging blizzard around her, she formed another spear, and Natsu realised had been wrong – the battle wasn't already lost.

It had only just begun.


A/N: ... I guess this was the longest and darkest chapter I've written so far. I'm unsure what to say here, but I've got a few things I'll point out.

So, here we got first major hints about Natsu's relation to fire. It goes a lot deeper than he even knows, and there's a lot in his background that's still left as a mystery. There will be bigger revelations about it soon.

The dragon shouts from the game that were used in this chapter: Cyclone, Fire Breath, Weapon Disarm, Unrelenting Force, Aura Whisper, and Clear Skies. Finally got to utilize several different shouts.

Also, in the game, there's natural gas in mines and dwemer ruins. I did a bit of research of it, and apparently it's possible for methane to leak and blow shit up. In Siberia, methane bubbles might randomly burst out, so what happened here was based on that.

The battle is all but done. The next chapter is going to be told in Lucy's POV, chronologically starting at the same point at this chapter.

Next up: Dragonslayer