The Scars That Make You Whole
By CrimsonStarbird
The Chosen at the Turn of Time, Final Part
-In The Sky Tonight We'll Burn-
There were times when Yukino didn't know what she was doing here.
It had taken long enough for her just to feel like she belonged in Sabertooth. After she had lost in the Grand Magic Games, been expelled from her guild, and made the mistake of opening the Eclipse Gate, it had been weeks before she could start to feel comfortable in Sting's reformed guild. As much as Sabertooth had changed in spirit, it was still home to some of the most powerful mages in the kingdom, and why would they want a mediocre mage like her alongside them?
If she had thought Sabertooth was bad, then Zeref's mages were in another league entirely.
Their power was terrifying. There was no other word for it. Not even the dragons who had rampaged through Crocus had invoked such a deep, primal fear, because they were monsters of myth, and these were supposed to be humans like her.
Before the battle had even begun, the airship had descended to sea level beneath the rift in the universe, and Brandish – who had been assigned to her and Lucy as a guard, or perhaps to keep an eye on them – had tossed a pebble into the sea and suddenly there was an island, the very one from which the three of them were currently watching the aerial battle play out. And yet Brandish appeared thoroughly uninterested in everything, setting up a deckchair, popping on some shades, and ignoring her and Lucy entirely. To have reached that level of power and be able to act like it was nothing – it frightened Yukino as much as Acnologia's claws.
And Lucy! Yukino had seen her own fear reflected in Sting and Rogue as they had been introduced to Zeref's crew, but Lucy had been completely at ease. To think that she was in a relationship with the Black Mage himself! To think that she had reached out to him, faced that terrible past and promise of death head-on, and found something so beautiful in the darkest of places!
Yukino had struggled to imagine it at first, when Lucy had admitted to their relationship back in the guildhall. Since then, she had seen the way he looked at Lucy and heard the way she spoke of him in turn, and rather than suspicion or disbelief or revulsion, Yukino had found herself hoping that one day someone might feel that way about her. She should have been afraid of Zeref, she knew that, but she did not know how she could fear someone who loved so very deeply.
Whether Lucy had intended it or not, she was the one who had achieved this, their unusual alliance of friend and foe.
But Yukino? She was only here because she happened to have two of the twelve Zodiac keys. And even then, the fact that she had them was nothing special. Lucy had told her that Celestial Spirit magic was passed down through the Heartfilia bloodline; perhaps all Yukino had been doing, ever since she had first taken up a gold key, was walking the path set down for her generations ago, and doing it less well than Lucy.
Sting and Rogue were up there risking their lives to draw Acnologia towards the rift. Zeref was leading the fight with his allies so powerful they made a mockery of how hard her guild had trained all this time. Lucy was the only reason why anyone had dared to take the fight to the Black Dragon in the first place.
Yukino, though, could do nothing but wait for the battle to be won for her.
There were times when she didn't know what she was doing here.
And there were times when she did.
The moment when Acnologia burst out of the ice, the airship still vulnerable, Zeref separated from the others, the magic barrier particles that had temporarily blocked the dragon's breath attack finally saturated – that was one of them.
The twelve Zodiac keys laid out on the rock were off-limits, but Yukino held the thirteenth: the black key, the discrepancy between sign and constellation, the hidden power that lurked between astronomy and myth.
Without taking her eyes off Acnologia, she asked, "Excuse me, Miss Brandish? Please can you use your magic for me?"
As a rule of thumb, Brandish tended not to do things for other people. It was far too much effort, especially since she was unlikely to ever see the benefit herself.
But it was also true that she'd never been asked so politely before, let alone by someone who wouldn't have dreamed of doing so unless she firmly believed it was the best for everyone. With the smallest of disgruntled sighs, Brandish did as she was asked – and when Acnologia burst out of the ocean, he was followed by something even larger.
Trapped within the coils of an enormous black serpent, even the Dragon of the Apocalypse looked tiny.
Wings pinned and claws flailing, those crushing coils dragged him down towards those velvety depths. The surface ebbed and stilled, and then was lit up from underneath by a torrent of white. They resurfaced, two behemoths locked in a vicious knot of scales and fangs, roiling and raging amidst a maelstrom of their own making.
Those stranded on the frozen ocean – Zeref, Invel and Cana – wasted no time in hurrying towards the airship while their opponent was distracted. The moment they were safely on board, the engine spluttered into life.
The ship slid forward a few metres… and stopped. The damaged ship could not take off from the ice.
Acnologia broke through the surface again with an explosion of ice and water. His jaws finally found a hold around Ophiuchus's neck. Though they weren't strong enough to pierce scales of that size, that wasn't what the Dragon of Magic had been after. Ophiuchus had been summoned by Yukino and augmented by Brandish's power: he was a feast for a dragon who ate magic. As Acnologia began to absorb his power, the Spirit shrunk, thrashing uselessly as his opponent regained all the vitality the fight had taken from him.
No longer protected by the armour of sheer, physical size, Acnologia's teeth sank at last into the serpent's neck. In a shattering of light, the Spirit was gone.
There had been a moment, though.
A moment when Ophiuchus had been his normal size, Brandish's enhancement fully drained, but the energy flooding into the Dragon of Magic's mouth had stopped.
"I don't think he can consume Celestial Spirit magic," Yukino breathed.
"What?" Lucy dragged her attention away from the flightless airship. "Are you sure?"
Yukino's fingers twisted nervously around the dormant black key. "I know Zeref said he could absorb everything except Dragon Slayer magic, but-"
"No, it's okay, I believe you." Lucy offered her a reassuring nod. "I wonder… what if it's too contaminated by World Magic for him to absorb? Whatever the reason, we can use this."
"Libra?" Yukino wondered.
Lucy smiled, having reached the same conclusion. "Libra."
They completed the Star Dress transformation at the same time. Several weeks ago, Lucy had taught Yukino how to use it in exchange for permission to borrow Libra's powers, and now the two of them linked hands, joining their power as one, unable to stand back and watch for a moment longer.
The gravity around the airship reversed. Gently, they lifted it into the air, allowing the engines a chance to restart.
Acnologia, too, had hauled himself out onto the ice, and from there, to the skies. The airship roared in preparation for evasive manoeuvres, but the dragon's strike was only a feint. He twisted in mid-air and dived towards their island.
"Lucy," Yukino began worriedly.
Lucy squeezed her hands. "Don't worry. We can do this."
Celestial magic flowed freely between them. They had been friends ever since the Eclipse Gate fiasco, but now, with the shared magic that ran in their blood, they were more than that – they were practically sisters. Yukino may not have had much faith in herself, but Lucy had faith in her, and that was all she needed to find her confidence.
Together, they swung the beam of reversed gravity like a great celestial blade, cleaving the ties between the dragon and the planet he sought to conquer. Acnologia's flight faltered. With up and down no longer matching the evidence of his eyes, his instincts were a hindrance. The blast of energy from his mouth went wide; he flapped drunkenly across the sky.
"Yes!" Yukino breathed, more surprised than anyone that her own plan had worked. "Lucy, you're right, we can help! We can win!"
Back in the sky, away from the little burst of hope on the island, the battle was growing more desperate by the minute.
It had always been a matter of life or death, glory or the end of days, but this was different, rawer, purer. No deceptions, no luring the mages in, no ship dropping in and out and visibility, just unbridled hate flashing back and forth.
Acnologia had his breath weapon back, far sooner than Zeref would have liked. They had lost their upper hand. He knew what they were trying to do to him, and the only way they were going to succeed now was the old-fashioned way: by throwing everything they had at him.
And 'everything', it seemed, looked like it was going to have to include Lucy.
In truth, Zeref had been happier when she had been staying out of it, but that emotion was not acceptable right now. He had to be dispassionate, and Lucy was too resourceful not to use. He had seen what she was capable of first-hand; he had watched her wring victory out of battles he had written off as hopeless. Really, he should have been using her from the start. He knew she wouldn't be happy to learn that he had deliberately failed to mention his suspicion that Acnologia wouldn't be able to consume Celestial Spirit magic at the start, or that he was only changing his position on that so readily now because the parameters of his current mental state dictated it.
These weren't his allies, let alone friends. These were his weapons, his puzzle pieces, strategic units scattered around the three-dimensional gameboard of the sky.
He closed his eyes. Seeing them as bright points of magic instead of people he had personally taught helped him stave off inconvenient sentimentality. Their movements were nothing more than a mathematical challenge, with flashing claws and searing breath their boundary conditions.
And every arrangement of variables led him to the same conclusion: it wasn't enough.
"Ram him," a cheerful voice suggested.
Reluctantly, Zeref opened his eyes to see Cana, the only person on the ship who would dare disturb him while he was thinking, stood next to a somewhat apologetic-looking Invel.
She elaborated, "If you want to coordinate with Lucy without being able to talk to her, you have to stop thinking like him-" She pointed at Invel and received an offended glare in return "-and start thinking like a Fairy Tail mage. Do something reckless. Ram Acnologia with the ship."
Knowing Lucy, that wasn't a bad idea. "Ajeel. Line us up to charge."
"Hell yes," their pilot grinned.
Zeref began reworking his mental simulations to include a reckless charge, aided by the Celestial Spirit mages' gravity, supported in the air by Sting and Rogue… but they'd never be able to push him into the rift. Fighting in three dimensions gave Acnologia too many escape routes. It just wasn't enough.
He didn't realize he had spoken those last words out loud until Cana spoke up. "I have an idea. Invel, Ice Make me a pair of wings or something-"
Invel bristled. "Ice Make? Such party tricks are not the purpose of my magic."
"Gray would kick your ass in a fight," she told him sagely. "Okay, instead, I could put you in a card and throw you at Acnologia, and then when he absorbs its magic, you'll pop out and-"
"Be dragon food?" Invel finished coldly.
"Yeah. Or punch him on the nose. Your choice."
"Hey, that's a really cool idea!" Ajeel chimed in.
"Whose side are you on?" Invel snapped, before glaring back at Cana. "And why are you clinging to me, anyway? Go bother someone else!"
"I don't know anyone else here."
"Lucky them!"
Even as the conversation dissolved back into an argument, Zeref knew it didn't matter. Even if one of them could miraculously gain the power of flight, they couldn't hold back Acnologia when he could just absorb their magic. Even the Dragon Slayers were struggling to get him to change his course now, exhausted as they were.
They'd lost all their advantages, and were losing more by the second. Every simulation ended in defeat. However he tried to play them, the numbers always led to one inescapable conclusion…
In the midst of it, Acnologia's tail struck the side of the ship.
The ship lurched one way, Zeref stumbled the other, and then the railings were collapsing under his weight.
Someone shouted, someone else reached for him – and perhaps he could have taken their hand if he'd tried, but in that moment, trying just didn't seem to matter.
He fell. Wind screeched and the world revolved, once, slowly, before deciding to send the frozen sea up to meet him. Perhaps he could have slowed his fall, asked time to wait for him to gather his thoughts, teleported back to the safety of the ship…
But he fell and fell, waiting uncaringly for death to hit once more.
It wasn't ice that erupted around him, though – not unless someone had blended Invel's ice into a slushie, and added strawberry, watermelon, and cotton candy extracts while they were at it. It was soft, fluffy, pinker than a unicorn's castle in fairyland, and it was so surreal that he almost felt relief when it disintegrated, depositing him on the cold, hard ice. The chill settled at once into his bones, like it belonged there. A better place to lay his head.
"Zeref!"
He might have ignored that shout, if it hadn't been accompanied by skidding footsteps, a shadow falling over him, hands pressing against his arms. "Are you alright; are you hurt?"
The sight of Lucy in her Aries form fussing over him should have brought him comfort, but it did not. It was just another reminder of everything that had gone wrong. She shouldn't be here, she should be ready to close the rift in space with Yukino, and yet the fact that she was here didn't matter. There was no point her preparing for a victory that would never come.
"Not hurt," he said dully. "Immortal, remember? It's not as though I needed your help."
A flicker of concern crossed her expression. "What's wrong?"
When he didn't respond, she dropped down to the ice opposite him, shivering. "Zeref, you were brilliant earlier. Really brilliant."
She blushed faintly as she said it. He noted it, just like he noted the way it didn't make him feel anything.
"So, what's wrong?" she persisted. "Why aren't you…?" She glanced pointedly upwards, another gesture he noticed and ignored.
"Because it doesn't matter. However I try to work it, we can't win this."
He could have predicted to the millisecond how long it took for her to blow up with indignation. "So you're giving up? Look at the sky, Zeref! Look at how hard your friends are fighting for you!"
"What good will it do?" he snapped back. "Our Dragon Slayers are exhausted. Prayer is the only thing holding the airship aloft. All my plans have come to nothing; Acnologia is stronger than ever!"
"This isn't over, Zeref! Get up and fight!"
"Don't you dare," he snarled. "I knew I wasn't ready, I knew I couldn't win against him, but I let you talk me into it! You told me we could do this, and against my better judgement, against my superior experience, I believed you, and look-! It hasn't worked! This fight cannot be won; there is no point!"
Lucy shook her head. "Don't, Zeref. You're better than this."
"No! I am not better than this! This is what you do, Lucy – you believe in me when you have no logical reason to do so! You make me feel like I can do these things, these impossible things! And then I can't do them, of course I can't, I knew from the start we couldn't beat Acnologia, but you made me think it was going to be okay and it isn't okay! We – can – not – win!"
Lucy stared at him for a long moment, and then said, "Get yourself back under control, Zeref. I am not having this conversation with your curse."
Her words gave him pause – but only for a moment, because there were too many iron-hard bars of fact underpinning this doubt for it to be anything less than true. "It's not like that. I want to believe you, Lucy. I want to win more than anything. But victory is a logical impossibility. We no longer have a way to get Acnologia through the portal except with pure force, and no matter what we try, he can just fly out of the way. Sting and Rogue can cover the flanks, but it's not enough, and no one but a Dragon Slayer can stand against him."
She stepped back again, frowning as she considered this. And despite himself, he couldn't help feeling a flicker of affection for the way she wouldn't blindly push ahead with her point of view, but would stop and listen and argue with him on his own terms.
"You thought the situation in Malva was hopeless too," she pointed out. "But we turned that around."
"Because you came up with a solution that hadn't occurred to me," he countered. "And though it might be possible in theory to use Gemini's power on Acnologia to become a temporary Dragon Slayer in the same way you gained the power of a God Slayer in Malva, there are no sources of infinite magic conveniently hanging around the battlefield for you to use this time."
"You're right, I don't have the power to salvage this situation," she told him steadily. "But you do."
"What…?"
"If you want another Dragon Slayer, you don't need to steal magic from Acnologia. You only need to use that given to you a long time ago by Grandine."
His eyes went wide with fright. "No, I'm not- it's not like that, I can't-"
"Can't or won't?" she shot back.
"I… I don't know," he whispered.
"Neither did Wendy, until she had to do it. Isn't that the legacy of the Sky Dragons? They didn't choose to be fighters. They were forced into it by fate. Of all the dragons you knew, Zeref, I don't think it's a coincidence that it was Grandine who passed her magic on to you. She believed you were worthy."
"It wasn't like that at all! She was only doing what she had to-"
It was terrifying, how easily the gentle touch to his cheek could silence him; how the direst of situations was made somehow more bearable, more rational, more hopeful by her presence. "Do not be ashamed of your past, Zeref. You have loved and been loved, and that is what separates you from Acnologia."
"You don't understand," he argued. "I'm not a Dragon Slayer; I never have been. The true power of a Dragon Slayer comes from the changes the magic wreaks upon their body – enhanced senses, increased strength, inhuman resilience, complete control over their element, not to mention the sheer power of a dragon. My curse prevents all of that from happening. I'll never turn into a dragon, but I won't ever share that power, either."
"The power of a dragon isn't about pointy teeth or Dragon Slayer Secret Arts, Zeref," she sighed. "It's about heart. You should know that better than anyone." She touched the locket hanging at his throat, and then, smiling, let her lips brush his forehead. "I do believe in you, Zeref, but it isn't groundless. You've not let me down yet." Then she reconsidered. "Well, except for the time you sent Invel to take me to the ball. But I think you made up for that."
He could not bring himself to smile in return. "I don't know if I can do what you want me to do. And even if I can, it won't be enough. We'd still need one more Dragon Slayer to hem Acnologia in."
"Well, then," she sighed. "Maybe, if you stopped ignoring me and actually looked up when I said so, you'd see that we are far from beaten."
He did, and just for a moment, words failed even him.
"Even if you don't believe you can, I know you'll try," Lucy whispered. "For everyone who is up there waiting for you."
She didn't wait for an answer; it hadn't been a question. Her reality-defying faith in him was as strong as ever – strong enough, perhaps, to change everything. He didn't resist as she briefly touched her lips to his. Then she was gone, back to the ice-locked island where she was supposed to be, just in case he could somehow do the impossible.
There was chaos on board the airship.
Strictly speaking, there had been chaos on board the airship ever since the battle had begun, but something about His Majesty's presence had muted it, tempered it, reshaped it into something that was never without purpose.
Without him, there was no clear voice of command. There was none of that unspoken certainty that everything would work out. There was nothing to stop the chaos from taking control. The airship veered this way and that, Invel shouting one thing, Dimaria shouting another, Ajeel doing something else entirely; if the struggle hadn't been as confusing to Acnologia as it was to them, they would have been shot down long ago.
From the front of the airship, the only person who still understood the meaning of calm watched them with a fond smile on his face. There was no panic in him, because he had absolute faith that their emperor would return any moment to lead their final charge. What strength His Majesty lacked, Lucy Heartfilia more than made up for, and with her, he was stronger than he had ever been.
He would be back any moment now. All they had to do was survive until then.
So August turned his back on the chaos, closed his eyes, and let the whole world fall away.
Listen.
In the blazing clamour of battle, amidst the incomprehensible whirl of cries and explosions and artificial thunder, take a step back from it all and listen.
Hear the whip-crack of air an instant before Acnologia changes direction. Hear the grumble and choke of the engines straining to time the ebb and flow of thrust to the dragon's attacks. Hear the difference between the smack of magic on scale and the crunch of it digging into an old wound. Hear the silence of the ice shelf where there should be waves, distorting the impression of distance to the ocean below. Hear the beating wings and screaming mages and pain and hate and-
Breathe.
Take a step back.
Listen, not to the sounds themselves but to the life that makes them.
Hear the past in the present. The ocean is not silent in its frozen fate. It groans a groan that has been building ever since the shifting continents first opened up the oceans and north-north-west won out as the prevailing current; it is constrained for the first time in millennia and it shudders in resentment.
Hear the causality in the chaos. The air's turbulence is almost rhythmic, sun-warmed and ice-cooled, vortices twisting and spitting where there have never been vortices before. For all that it is being battered and broken by the dragon's wings, it is subtly influencing the patterns of his flight in return.
Hear the truth of things. The ship's engine slowly masticates fuel it was not designed to consume with a ponderous, intolerant rumble. All the swooping and diving is a bold fiction conjured by its pilot; it hasn't been repaired at all, only converted to use fuel synthesized from the carbon of the furniture on board, and it cannot maintain this pace much longer.
Hear the words that cannot be spoken. In the mages' defiant shouts, do not listen for the pride of victory, but the yearning for home. No longer is winning what drives them. They only want it to be over; to be home, to be safe, to be away from the intensity that ignites wherever life and death touch.
The dragon roars back, and it is a promise: "I'll kill them all."
There's grief in that roar. So deep that maybe the dragon himself can no longer hear it, but it has never gone away, no matter how much rich, salty blood he has drunk to try and soothe his throat. It's a grief that chose madness because it knew of no other way to make it stop.
Listen to it.
All the life screaming out to be heard.
The lumbering airship, the angry writhing zephyrs, the paralyzed waves, the desperate hearts, the harbinger of the apocalypse – he is every one of them, for the briefest of moments, and every heartbeat brings him back to himself before he is gone once more.
All these things are magic.
Not powered by magic, or created by magic, but magic itself, hiding in plain sight.
It comes to him like it has never come to anyone. He alone can claim to have been born of the One Magic, known to it and it to him before he had even entered the world of the living. He doesn't just perceive the magic that is life. He understands it.
At the bow of the ship he stands alone, and as the Black Dragon of the Apocalypse bears down upon him, he understands him, too.
He understands what it means to stand at that crossroads and know you're not strong enough to choose the path of love and loss, even as the slope towards hate and madness begins to spiral beneath your feet. What it costs to become the thing you've sworn to destroy. What it means to be the world-serpent with your tail in your mouth, condemned to destroy or be destroyed until the end of time.
The Black Dragon had paid the price so readily, back then, not knowing the extent of it until the last five dragons fled through time, leaving him with nothing but four hundred years of madness.
His heart constricts with the pain of it.
Magic sings softly. It's as if the raging battle has quietened just to hear it.
He sees, in a flash of empathy, how loneliness has hardened into a barricade of scales; how mistrust has become claws sharp enough to sever ties; how the need to do everything himself has translated into experience, taking the power of the dragons he killed into himself, and experience has manifested as the ability to conquer all kinds of magic.
The crack of scales stretching under the sun.
The strain of wings in their endless battle against the sky.
The sharpness of vision, the sensitivity of hearing, the ability to distinguish the tastes of magic on his tongue, the majesty of size, the dominance of presence: the legacy of a species that should have become extinct long ago, not vanquished, not yet.
There's something beautiful about it.
He hears these things, he reaches out to them, and he lets them all in: the life that is magic, the magic that is life.
On the deck of the airship, where August had been standing only moments before, there was a golden dragon.
It seemed that the airship itself was the only thing not frozen by this development, and it began to pitch forward with near-comical slowness under the dragon's extra weight. Huffing in amusement at the expressions of those on board, the golden dragon launched himself skyward. He circled once above the airship, his outstretched wings angelic in the sunlight.
Then, like a spear from the heavens, he struck.
It wasn't like any battle August had ever fought before.
Not that any two battles of his had been alike. His magic, a shard torn free from the origin of all magic, was uniquely fluid. It would take any form he asked of it, limited only by his own knowledge and experience; it was the sum total of all the life and magic he had ever come across.
With it, he had transformed into every beast under the sun, and quite a few that existed only in nightmares. He had danced amidst fire and water, sung the hymn of the storm and stilled the turning of the earth. Space had shattered before him and time had bent to his will; dreams had become reality and reality been dismissed to the world beyond. He had learnt to fight in as many different styles as he had had opponents, finding something new in every enemy he faced, his ever-curious magic never passing up a chance to learn.
It was the flow of magic which set the pace of the battle, whether that was slow and earth-shaking or swift and tricky. The same was true now. He did not know how to fight in this form, but this magic did, and so he gave himself over to it… even as it took him further and further from who he had been before.
He had known it would be bad, but he thought he would be able to control it.
There was no strategy, only strength. There was no planning, only the desire to cause pain. There was no future to account for, only the here and now. There was no ocean below, nor rift above, nor Dragon Slayers nor airships nor threats – only each other and their vicious instincts, locked in a brutal struggle that no human being would dignify to call a battle.
Biting, slashing, mauling, the gold and black dragons ripped apart the air in their haste to get at one another, and the sky rained crimson.
And if a breath attack blazed too close to the Celestial Spirit mages on the artificial island, or a tail almost struck the airship as it tried and failed to intervene, what did they care? Inflicting pain upon the other was all that mattered.
By the time it occurred to August that something might be wrong, he was too far gone to care about what it was.
That was the danger of empathy.
It meant opening himself up to the bad as well as the good; taking on the feelings of another knowing full well that they might be stronger than his own.
Acnologia's magic was pure hate. All the grief and fear that had trailed as shadows behind it were invisible from within, drowned in a torrent of blood. It had stripped away all that was good in Acnologia long ago, and now it was doing the same to him: his love, his rationality, his sense of self, until he was not even capable of realizing what he had lost.
He was a screaming hurricane of rage, battering the black dragon's defences, not caring how much worse he was receiving in return. He hated Acnologia as much as Acnologia hated him. Nothing else mattered. Not the airship he had set out to protect, now in more danger from him than Acnologia. Not even the gaping wound down his front, where a claw honed against the hides of much larger dragons had ripped the scales free, leaving nothing but weak muscle and luck to protect his heart. All he cared about was dragging another howl of pain from the cavernous jaws before him-
"Easy, August."
He had not thought it possible to become angrier than he was, but that voice seemed determined to prove him wrong. How dare someone try to command him?
With a snarl of smoke and fire, he rounded on the newcomer. He didn't stop to wonder how a human being was standing on thin air, let alone why. No one would interfere in his battle.
Then a hand pressed to his chest, and the pain receded. The coolness seemed to spread – or perhaps it was simply the burn fading, as the great wound vanished as quickly as Acnologia had ripped it into him.
He had forgotten that magic other than the hatred of the last dragon existed. There was something familiar about it, something gentle. It was enough to tease an intact memory out of the wreckage of his mind – to, in the same moment, both recognize his beloved father and not recognize him at all, for he had never looked like this before.
The air around him was perfectly, unnaturally still, and yet his robes were whipping around him as though he stood at the edge of an explosion. Waves of white rolled through the coal-black of his hair, now long and wild, now black and ordinary again. Feather-like bursts circled his wrists and ankles; they flickered in time with that not-wind. The sunlight seemed to shimmer iridescent upon the perfectly normal, perfectly human skin of his forearms. His fingers were claw-like until the moment they relaxed again. There was colour in the darkness of his eyes, but it wasn't that frightening red – it was a beautiful swell of violet.
Standing tall in the nothingness, he projected a steadiness which belied his ever-shifting appearance. How could he appear so calm, when his magic was in so much pain? Caught between his indomitable curse and his no less indomitable will, forced to maintain a form that his unchanging body should not have allowed, it screamed, but he did not.
In that moment, staring shocked, August felt his father's pain like it was his own. It was a pain not born of hatred, but of choice and determination; it was a blade of ice slashing through the spell of Acnologia's rage. He loved his father more than Acnologia had ever hated anything.
His Majesty rested his hand against August's scaled shoulder, and murmured, "Can you turn back?"
He gave a whimper. He thought he might know how to talk, if he tried, but the raging magic hadn't considered it important, and it was enough of a strain just to hold on to who he was. It was too deep within him to let him go so easily.
"Don't worry," His Majesty said, understanding perfectly. "Once this is over, we'll figure out how to release your magic together."
Another whimper escaped him. Maybe he'd be able to turn back, maybe he wouldn't, but none of it was as important to him as the sheer agony he could feel in the other's presence.
"It hurts, but not as much as Malva," he explained softly. "I got through that. I can get through this."
August whined a weak affirmation, knowing that the only way to help him was to end this quickly.
"Are you ready?" His Majesty asked. He didn't need to look around. He knew the others were exactly where he needed them to be.
August touched his snout to the top of his father's head.
"Then go," he murmured, and he raised his hand, sending a thunderous pulse of air to all horizons.
While Acnologia had been distracted, the airship had slipped into invisibility one last time. It seemed to be held together solely by the willpower of those on board, but that would be enough. Acnologia was expecting an attack from the other dragon, and the airship's glorious final charge came out of nowhere with a speed for which he was not prepared. It rammed him into the channel of altered gravity conjured by Yukino and Lucy, driving him towards the rift.
As he tried to find some leverage to escape the combined push and pull, twin bolts of energy streaked towards him. One was blistering holy light, and it punched the half-healed stump of the arm Igneel had torn off, twisting him against the ship. The other, an intense shadow, pierced through his front claw, pinning him to it. The golden dragon dived from above, and the open sky was suddenly full of razor-blade claws, scratching savagely at his jaw every time he thought about using his breath attack.
Nothingness yawned behind him. Nothingness and defeat.
As they closed in on the rift in space, there was only one way for him to run: down.
Acnologia broke away from the ship and tried to dive. But below, the very sky had turned against him. Where Zeref moved, the air moved with him, riding instincts he did not fully understand. There was a gale behind every fist, Dragon Slayer magic Acnologia couldn't consume and death magic he wouldn't dare, power Zeref hadn't known he had until he'd needed it.
With the fury of the storm behind him, Zeref struck the black dragon towards the rift just as Acnologia's tail spikes slashed across his chest.
The rush of physical pain on top of his mental torment was too much. The part-Dragon Force Zeref had been somehow maintaining vanished. He fell towards the frozen ocean, and the golden dragon broke off his attack to dive after him. The airship pulled out of its reckless charge, too close to the rift to risk continuing – and Acnologia, the air now moving properly again beneath his wings, roared with the beginnings of triumph…
But in the midst of it all there stood two true Dragon Slayers. Four hundred years ago, Skiadrum and Weisslogia had fought and died to protect their children from Acnologia – children who had at last come into their own, as they raised their linked hands at the heart of a sphere of holy shadows.
"This," Rogue whispered, "is for our fathers."
And with that last explosion of magic, the Dragon of the Apocalypse was blasted out of the universe.
A misty blanket of silence settled over the scene. The air was as still as the ice below. Without the occasional bursts of magic to illuminate them, the sea and sky seemed far duller than before. The airship hung exhaustedly between them, as if waiting for the confirmation that was it acceptable to cheer. Even the hipflask which had appeared in Cana's hand had yet to make it to her lips.
"Is it over?" Ajeel demanded. "Only, this ship really needs to land, but once we do, we're not getting back in the air again without some serious repairs."
Invel wanted to say yes as much as the others wanted to hear it, but that was His Majesty's call, not his, and there was still no sign of their leader. The ferocity of the battle – and the speed at which the ship had been travelling – had made the details difficult to determine, but it was clear that he had taken a nasty hit from Acnologia, and that he had fallen from the sky.
It shouldn't have been anything to worry about, for His Majesty was immortal.
His body should have healed by now.
He should be back on the ship with them.
And yet he had fallen, and August had gone after him, and neither had returned.
In their absence, the silence felt like shade. The crackling of the rift in space seemed to mock them, an abnormality from which none of them could look away. An abnormality which was still very much open.
Dimaria said, "Typical, isn't it? We work so hard fulfilling the most difficult part of the plan, and these Fiorean hangers-on His Majesty insisted on recruiting can't even cope with the one job they were given. Acnologia's going to fly right back into our universe if they don't get their act together."
As the entire crew of the airship turned to stare at her, she shrugged defensively. "What? We're all thinking it! You wouldn't catch any of us slacking if His Majesty had given us a job like that, would you?"
"That isn't like Lucy, either," Invel said. "Something's wrong. Why aren't they closing the rift?"
If Invel was concerned, then August was downright terrified, and the persistence of the rift in space had nothing to do with it.
At first, the decision to chase after his wounded emperor had been an impulsive reaction. He would do the same for any injured colleague. He looked after his allies, that was just what he did, and the fact that His Majesty was immortal – and would be whole again long before August reached him – didn't make it any less important.
The further they fell, the further his determination slipped into desperation.
Because His Majesty wasn't moving.
He did not seem conscious as he fell. A ribbon of blood unravelled in his wake. Closer and closer gleamed the ice, and still he was doing nothing to save himself- nothing to return to the fight- nothing at all-
August flew faster than his draconic senses insisted was possible. He snatched that limp body up in his arms mere inches away from the ice, too close to even think about slowing down, let alone stopping.
Twisting, he landed shoulder-first. The impact shattered scales that had withstood Acnologia's fangs, wrenched open his wing-joint, and in the whiteness of the pain he lost hold of his magic entirely.
The next thing he knew, he was a man again, lying spread-eagled on the ice. He no longer had the limbs that had caused the pain, and that provided the opening he needed to raise himself up on his arms, looking for any sign of life. The smell of blood was so potent, he did not need a dragon's nose to locate its source. Hot blood cut tiny ravines into the ice as it wove a fatal web around the unmoving body of his emperor.
Somehow, August was on his feet. Somehow, he had staggered to His Majesty's side, urgency overruling decorum as he pulled aside the torn robes to assess the wound beneath. A wound which was racing to evacuate all the blood from his body before his immortality could kick in and close it.
A wound which was still not healing.
His Majesty's eyes were open, reflecting blindly back the empty sky. Breaths rattled in the newly gouged hollows around his heart.
August tried to call his magic, but it was a mirror of his panic and pain. It wanted to help. It didn't know how. His father had never had any need of healing magic, and therefore, neither had he.
"No," he whispered. "This can't be happening. This isn't- you can't-"
Just for a moment, those beautiful black eyes seemed to sharpen. Seemed to see him. That flash of clarity widened into absolute fear.
August clutched his hand in both of his. "Please," he choked. "I don't know how to heal you. You have to show me how."
But the light in His Majesty's eyes was fading.
"No." August's hands were shaking and he couldn't breathe either and it seemed that only one frantic cry was holding up a world threatening to crumble: "Please, I can help you, I just need you to show me!"
No response.
Immortality failing right when it was needed the most.
"Please," he whispered.
And then there came the faint glow of magic.
It shone the bluish-white of a better world's sky. It cast no shadow, for it had no source; like a lost soul, it circled around them, confused, for healing magic could not cure one's own wounds.
But August was sobbing with relief as he caught hold of it. His magic sank into the shape of Sky Magic faster than it had any other, and he poured every ounce of it into his father's open wound. Even when all visible traces of the gaping red slash had vanished, he did not stop – not with his magic, not with his prayers.
Praying that this time, his love would be enough to reach him.
Slowly, so slowly, those black eyes opened again.
There was so much fear in them.
The fear of one who had brushed the other side, and could not quite believe he was back.
He looked so small in that moment. So vulnerable. The sight of it broke August's heart anew. He pulled his father into his arms and held him close, never to let him get so far away again, protocol be damned.
And to his astonishment, rather than pulling away, the other rested his forehead against August's chest as his shoulders began to shake with huge, silent sobs.
August did not know how much time passed like that, though it was long enough for His Majesty to have regained some measure of control, for the slight rise and fall of his shoulders was the only sign of movement. He didn't speak – for speaking would have acknowledged the situation – but he had yet to pull away from him, either.
That was where they were when His Majesty's communication lacrima received an incoming transmission.
Distractedly, he pushed August away and got to his feet. The lacrima in question dropped out of his pocket dimension and into his hand. He frowned with a confusion August understood: only he and Invel had lacrima which connected to His Majesty's, and it was not Invel's presence he sensed trying to contact him right now.
"I gave my lacrima to Brandish before the battle," August explained quietly.
"Why?"
"In case something went wrong."
His Majesty gave him a piercing look. The truth was, Brandish hadn't been particularly happy with her assignment to assist – well, to protect – the two Celestial Spirit mages from Fiore. She would never complain about an order given by His Majesty, of course. About literally anything else, but not that. Not in his presence, anyway.
But that didn't mean she understood why it had been asked of her, either, so as August had pressed the lacrima into her palm, he murmured, "Look after Lucy. If we lose her, we lose him."
And he'd known from the fractional widening of her eyes that she'd realized exactly what he was saying: that the reason why His Majesty was being so proactive and open and human all of a sudden was because of that Fairy Tail mage, and losing her just as he was starting to find himself would be devastating.
August could not hear what Brandish was saying over the lacrima-link, and his emperor's black eyes rippled like colliding galaxies, too many emotions passing by too quickly for him to read.
But as His Majesty turned and disappeared without a word, one thing was certain: something was wrong.
The twelve Zodiac keys lay in a circle upon the false island.
To Anna, they had represented the twelve equal segments into which the orbit of the sun was divided. To Zeref, they had represented the twelve constellations through which the sun passed on its journey.
Lucy was not an astronomer. She had learnt the names of the stars from her mother's tales, and to her, they were mementos of ancient gods and exemplary heroism before they were scientific coordinates, light-year distances, or foci for revolutionary magic. Like numerals on a celestial clock, each key marked a new chapter in her life: from learning her mother's magic to earning her first gold key as a guild mage; from winning over Angel's Spirits while still her opponent to saving Capricorn from possession; from losing Aquarius to summoning the Celestial Spirit King; from her first realization that there was more to this magic than it appeared to the night Zeref had confessed everything to her beneath a sea of stars.
Living magic, Zeref had called them. Magic in another form. Magic with the ability to choose, to disobey, to love.
And how she had been loved, Lucy thought wistfully, as her fingers trailed over each and every one, lingering on the white cracks that had marred Loke's key ever since the battle in Bishop's Lace and the familiar yet shiny-new contours of the reforged Water-Bearer's key. Celestial Spirit magic wasn't itself uncommon – the bloodline which bore it had thrived – but bonds like theirs were rare indeed.
"They did it, Lucy!" Yukino exclaimed. "Sting and Rogue! They've banished Acnologia!"
"Then it's time for us to finish this."
Yukino had jumped up to watch her guildmates fight, and at Lucy's calm words, she gave a bashful smile and returned to their prior position – the two Celestial Spirit mages kneeling on either side of the wheel of keys. Above the circle, they joined their hands.
The keys began to glow. Lucy led the magic; the otherworldly touch of the rift in the universe came easily to her, given how often she had unintentionally drawn on its magic in the past. The light of the keys brightened – or perhaps the world darkened, sky and sea dropping away to reveal the darkness that encompassed the earth.
And dark it was, but not a void. Countless stars in eighty-eight familiar forms lit their way as they had for the nomadic ancients, sealed by the band of twelve chosen to reign over the night. Above, below, and all around, they beheld the night sky in its entirety.
And when they did, they found that although all of reality had faded, the rift had not. The tear in the universe was a tear in the stellar sphere itself.
A divine wound which they had the power to heal.
Their gold keys thrummed with energy. Just like they could forcibly dismiss a suffering spirit, just like they had once opened a gate through time and slammed it shut again, the two of them began to close the rift.
Space stretched. Darkness strained. A deep rumbling was rising up from nowhere, a low hum, the chorus of the spheres, the shudder of time and space beginning to rotate for them.
And then white cracks raced through the vision.
Yukino glanced worriedly over her shoulder to where light was slashing through the curtain of darkness. "Is this… supposed to be happening?"
Lucy couldn't answer. She was doubled over in pain. Something had seized her heart and was twisting, squeezing, bursting.
It was so sudden there wasn't even time to scream. There was no outlet for the agony. Something had to give, or she was going to rupture from within-
Something did give.
She did. She couldn't hold the magic any longer; the vision of the celestial sphere fell to pieces. Lucy slumped sideways, dragging oxygen into her timidly expanding lungs and blood through her slowly untangling arteries.
It wasn't until Yukino shook her shoulder, calling her name in fear, that she remembered where she was.
"What- what happened?" Lucy managed to ask.
"Lucy-"
"It's still open," she realized, staring up at the sky. "The magic broke, we couldn't do it, what happened-?"
"Lucy."
Yukino's voice wasn't loud, but it seemed to touch her heart directly. Lucy dragged her gaze away from the rift in the sky to her friend's uncurling hand.
There, on Yukino's palm, sat the pieces of Loke's broken key.
Damaged as it was, the magic of the celestial spheres had proven too much for it.
"No!" Lucy reached for the key fragments, only for her fingers to pass right through them. They were already stardust. "Loke- no-"
"Lucy," Yukino murmured, wide-eyed. If there were any words out there which might have been enough in that moment, they did not come to her.
"It's because of me," Lucy said numbly. "He broke the terms of his oath to save me. That's why his key cracked. That's why he's gone."
"Lucy, I'm so sorry…"
Loke had known something like this might happen. He'd even warned her, that day in hospital, when she was too busy worrying about herself and Zeref and how she was supposed to pick herself up after their argument to think too much about Loke's plight.
She had told him it would be fine. That she wouldn't summon him for a while, and he could rest, and everything would somehow sort itself out, just like it always did.
It hadn't.
Loke's key was gone, right when they needed it the most.
"Then what now?" a new voice cut in. Brandish stood where the false island met the sea of ice, her shades tucked into an inner pocket of her cloak, deckchair abandoned. She continued, not unkindly, but not relenting in her pragmatism either. "The rift in space is still open. Acnologia will return at any moment. Won't he?"
"Yes," Yukino admitted, at the same time as Lucy said, "No."
They looked at each other.
"There's still time," Lucy asserted. "We can close it."
Yukino bit her lip. "Not with only eleven keys."
"Yes, we can. I can do it."
"How?"
Lucy raised her head steadily. No one else was going to pay the price for her mistakes. Not any more. "The same way my mother opened the Eclipse Gate with only eleven keys."
It had been fifteen years since Grammi μ had set sail for Fiore and never returned.
Fifteen years since the police had arrested her daughter at the docks, carrying nothing but a knife and a change of clothes, having crushed beneath her foot the first three ships which had refused to take an unaccompanied child to Ishgar.
Fifteen years since August had let himself into her jail cell, and proceeded to explain why vengeance was impractical at best and could trigger an international incident at worst; how it would not be easy to track down where Grammi had gone, let alone uncover what had happened to her; how, rather than leaving behind everything she had known in pursuit of some fictitious murderer who might prove to be an accident, a natural disaster, or a mystery without explanation, the best thing she could do for her mother right now was to keep living the life Grammi had sought for them both in Alvarez.
Brandish had not been a stranger to August at the time. She may only have been the daughter of a palace servant, but great magic had no concept of status, and even had he not already taken note of her as a potential pupil, her firm friendship with Yajeel's unruly grandson was the reason why half the doors to the council chambers carried child-proof magical locks. Faced with a distraught child at the turning point of her life, he had made the formal decision to take her under his wing. She had accepted, and she had stayed in Alvarez.
Her bond with her mentor was one of the reasons why Brandish, who had never been particularly inclined towards arduous endeavours, had nonetheless proceeded to work hard with her magic until she had achieved her place amongst the Spriggan Twelve.
The other reason was that it hadn't taken long for Brandish to realize that the fastest and least effort-intensive way of finding out anything was to ask His Majesty about it.
So, on the day she had passed the final trial and officially joined the Twelve, she had asked Emperor Spriggan if he knew how her mother had died.
And, unsurprisingly to anyone who had ever worked for him, he did.
He had told her that there was a magical device called the Eclipse Gate, which required all twelve Zodiac keys, including Grammi's Aquarius, to activate. An old friend of Grammi's had asked to borrow her key to use this device, and Grammi had left at once to take it to her. But the journey had been too long, and Grammi had arrived too late. A fellow colleague had blamed her for the disaster that followed, and claimed vengeance with a knife.
His Majesty had given Brandish his leave to do what she wished with that information, but when it came right down to it, both people who could possibly be held responsible for her mother's death were already dead.
Zoldeo had been killed by the Celestial Spirits themselves a few years earlier, on Tenrou Island.
And Layla Heartfilia had passed away shortly after opening the Eclipse Gate, having offered up her life in place of Grammi's key.
Thus, Brandish had decided to put the affair behind her, and never had reason to think about the cause of her mother's death until now.
It was clear from how readily the Sabertooth mage accepted the Heartfilia girl's – Lucy's – words that she didn't understand their import. But Brandish did. And although everyone here was willing to do whatever it took to defeat Acnologia; and although if someone had to die, she would prefer it to be one of these strangers from Fiore than one of her lifelong friends, she couldn't help thinking of what August had said to her: if we lose her, we lose him.
And losing His Majesty meant not just losing the battle, but losing the relaxed atmosphere that had bloomed in his presence ever since he had returned to the palace with a spontaneous change of plans. It meant that the war would be back on track. It meant… well, a whole lot of grief and effort and destruction and death for everyone involved.
Her hand edged towards the lacrima in her pocket.
Should she have admitted to Yukino that she was going to use her own life in place of Loke's key? Lucy wasn't sure. On one hand, Yukino probably had a right to know, but on the other, they didn't have time for the argument that would inevitably follow.
They had to stop Acnologia. It wasn't just about winning the battle; it was about defeating the apocalypse itself, the last great enemy which threatened their world, and securing a future for everyone they cared about. It was more than necessary.
Lucy was almost glad she hadn't been given any longer to think about it. Once she'd realized exactly what that pain had been – the magic of the stellar sphere trying to take from her what the broken Key of the Lion had been unable to give it – the choice had been made for her.
She had to do this. For the guild she would never get to see revived. For the alliance between her friends and Zeref's, born from necessity but with the potential to grow into something more. For all her friends and all their dreams, which, she knew, would thrive.
A snarl filled the nothing-space surrounding the two Celestial Spirit mages. Acnologia was fighting to get back through the rift. Yukino's grip tightened around her hands, adding the strength of her Spirits to Lucy's own. It wasn't enough to make up for the vanished lion constellation, but Lucy knew what was.
This time, when the pain hit, she welcomed it. She let it take all that she was, and forge with it the future she sought for her guild.
She had always taken for granted that she would be part of that future.
She wanted to be part of that future.
But she was stronger than her dreams, and there had always been more to her life than just herself. There was nothing she would not do for those she loved.
Then Yukino's hands were ripped out of hers. Startled, Lucy's head jerked up. Sunlight flooded into the false night, washing away the stars and magic. The darkness fled until only two patches of it remained, twin orbs wide with fright, as Zeref gripped her shoulders from far too close and shouted, "Lucy! Stop this!"
Horrified, she pushed him away. "What are you doing? Don't stop me!"
"You can't do this! You'll die!"
"I know!" she shouted back. "But we won't get another chance!"
Zeref was standing where Yukino had been, having pushed her aside, but the eleven gold keys still glimmered at Lucy's feet. She could do still this. Bracing herself, she reached for the magic of the stars once more-
"No!" Zeref shrieked, seizing her wrists, tearing her magic to shreds. "You can't die, Lucy, you can't!"
Her retort was eclipsed by an almighty roar. The sky split open and darkness poured forth – darkness with claws and fangs and wings; darkness come to reign over all.
"No," Lucy breathed.
Everything they had done had been for nothing. The shadow of the last dragon swallowed the sun itself.
And Lucy screamed with it: "No! This is your fault, Zeref! You did this! We could have won!"
Zeref didn't appear to have noticed Acnologia's victorious return. He was staring at her, his vain attempt to process her words yielding only confusion. "But you'd have died."
"We were all willing to die, Zeref!" Lucy yelled. "If that was what it took, we would have done it without hesitation, because that's how important this battle is! Just because we've been stuck down here instead of on your airship doesn't mean we're any less dedicated – right, Yukino?"
Silence.
"Yukino?"
It was only then that she realized Yukino was still lying where Zeref had pushed her aside.
Lucy reached for her friend's shoulder and found it cold. Yukino slumped onto her back at the lightest touch, blank eyes turned towards a sky they would never reach. Lucy shrieked her name, trying in vain to find a pulse, and when she could not, she wrenched her friend into her arms as if she could squeeze the blood back into circulation.
It didn't seem possible. Just a moment ago, they were saving the world together, the firmament dancing to the song of their hearts. There wasn't a mark on Yukino's body to show what had changed.
The most distinctive sign of death magic was the fact that it left no signs.
"No," Zeref choked out, his eyes wide. "I'm sorry- I didn't mean to-"
This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
It should have been Lucy sacrificing herself to vanquish Acnologia for good.
Not Yukino dead for nothing.
"How could you?" she whispered.
"I didn't mean- I didn't know-"
"Of course you knew!" she screamed, tears whipping from her eyes as she rounded on him. "What did you think would happen if you came here out of some stupid attempt to save my life? You promised me you weren't dangerous! If you couldn't control your own magic, you shouldn't have come near my friends!"
"But," he tried, "I had to; you'd have died-"
"I'd have won!" she spat. "I'd have sealed Acnologia away and saved everyone! The battle would have been over, we'd have peace, Yukino wouldn't have died for nothing – we would have won!"
Still he stared at her unblinking; still he seemed unable to understand her words. "It wouldn't have been victory. Not without you."
"It would have been better than this!"
Overhead, Acnologia's breath attack blazed out like hell's searchlight, seeking death and destruction in the clear blue sky. Maybe that was the end of the airship. Maybe that was his lap of honour.
Explosions pulsed through the sky, and still Zeref didn't seem to notice them, didn't do anything more than stare at her in pleading silence.
"So, what?" she challenged. "My life matters, but Yukino's doesn't? If it had been one of Yukino's keys that had broken, rather than mine – what, would you just have stood there and let it happen?"
He said nothing, but the answer was clear on his face.
"No, Zeref," she said sadly. She stared down at Yukino, so peaceful, as if she had died believing the battle was won, and not that a whole new nightmare was beginning. She had cared so much for those around her, she'd had a sister and a guild who loved her, there were places she'd wanted to visit and magic she'd wanted to learn – what made those things matter less than Lucy's own?
Circumstance. Nothing more.
"I didn't mean to, Lucy," he whispered. "I love you."
"I wish you didn't," she said bitterly. In her arms, the first person who had truly and openly supported her relationship lay dead because of it. "Love doesn't make us important, Zeref. There was so much more at stake today than you and me."
"I couldn't lose you," he whispered brokenly.
Shaking her head, she turned away, cradling Yukino's body in her arms. "Just go, Zeref. Just go."
And the next time she looked up, he was gone.
Creaking and groaning, like an old ghost finally confronted with an exorcist, the airship dipped to the left as Acnologia's breath attack grazed its flank. For a moment, it seemed as though it was going to tumble all the way down to the underworld, but it levelled out begrudgingly a few metres above the frozen sea.
Acnologia banked, powerful wingbeats consuming the sky. The engine spluttered in envy. Its whine increased in pitch as yet another hastily converted component crumbled back into the atoms from which it had been crafted. No one spoke – not to commend Ajeel on steering them through that narrow escape, or to worry over the state of the ship. What would be the point?
The Black Dragon of the Apocalypse had made his triumphant return. The plan had failed. August hadn't returned to the airship, as a dragon or otherwise.
But it wasn't until they had felt His Majesty's presence vanish from the battlefield that they knew for sure there was no final plan.
Wherever he'd gone, he'd taken the last of their strength with him.
The two Dragon Slayers lay on the deck, unable to stand even if they'd wanted to. Jellal stood beside them, but although his eyes never left Acnologia, he showed no sign of taking to the sky himself. Dimaria's broken sword was in her hand, her grip white-knuckled, the tip of it trembling. Wall's constant attempts to repair the ship through the forced alchemical synthesis of new parts had drained his magic entirely; Jacob couldn't hide the ship long enough for them to make a convincing getaway; Invel wasn't in a much better state, regarding the scene with flinty eyes.
As the dragon bore down upon them, Ajeel slammed the ship into a forced stall. It dropped far faster than it was capable of flying and then caught itself again. The dragon's claws closed on empty air; the inevitable was postponed for another thirty seconds.
With no clouds, no land, no cover, and Ajeel apparently the only member of their team not resigned to their fate, it was only a matter of time before they were killed. After all, he was just a pilot with a half-dead ship. He couldn't turn into a dragon like August or wheel out secret Dragon Slayer powers at the last minute like His Majesty. He had only been brought along because he could fly better than any other member of the Twelve.
He hadn't even been allowed to take part in the actual fighting. No one believed he could follow orders reliably enough to fit His Majesty's plans. No matter how hard he trained, he was still considered the weakest of the Twelve; no matter what he did, they wouldn't acknowledge that he could help them in battle.
In that moment, Ajeel made his decision.
"Invel!" he shouted. The ice mage slowly raised his head, and then, at Ajeel's impatient insistence, approached. "You can fly a ship like this, yeah?"
"I am licensed to pilot airships of all sizes," came the curt response. Then, as if suddenly realizing why the question had been put to him, he clarified, "Although I haven't flown one of this size since passing the test, and I have certainly never flown the imperial flagship itself-"
"Don't worry, it's still push to go down, pull to go up," Ajeel breezed, grabbing Invel's hand and slapping it down onto the lever. "Don't forget to pick up Brandish and August, and it wouldn't really be right to abandon the Fiorean mages after all this, so I suppose you could rescue them too. But don't land on the ice whatever you do, because you won't get airborne again."
"Well, naturally, but-" Invel released the lever with a deliberate glance at Ajeel, who folded his arms and waited until Invel was forced to grab the controls again before the wounded ship could fall out of control. "You're our pilot!"
"Yeah, well, I'm fed up of it," Ajeel growled. "This isn't what I signed up for. I'm here to fight, not play support to you lot."
"His Majesty's plan-" Invel began hotly, leaping to the defence of their absent emperor, but Ajeel turned away abruptly.
"Still, I guess his plan wasn't a total disaster," he continued, and those who knew him might have detected something wistful in those words. "At least stopping me from fighting during the battle itself meant that one of us still had some magic remaining at the death."
Invel's eyes widened. "Ajeel-"
Ajeel cut him off, jabbing his finger downwards. "Get Brandish first, yeah?" Without waiting for a response, he ran across the deck, yelling, "Oi! Drunk girl! Card me!"
"You- you sure?" Cana checked, as uncertain as Invel.
"Why do you think I asked? Are all Fiorean mages as slow as you? You know, I'm glad I never got the chance to invade; fighting you lot would have been duller than listening to Invel's sixth Commendation of the Realm on repeat-"
Cana probably activated her magic just to shut him up. Which, really, was what he had been going for.
He didn't resist as it dragged him into a magic-created space. Ignoring the distortion of shape and colour as his new existence lost a dimension, he closed his eyes, turning his focus inwards. Nothing mattered except filling this imaginary space with as much of his magic as possible.
When Acnologia snapped up the cards Cana threw at him, he was expecting a quick jolt of magic to re-energize him.
He was not expecting absorbing the card's enchantment to release Ajeel and a fully formed sandstorm right into his mouth.
Acnologia choked. Draconic instincts overwhelmed his logic, and those instincts told him he needed oxygen in his lungs and particulates out of them. Ajeel was throwing out as much sand as his magic could produce, choking, withering, accelerating the erosion of his fangs.
An almighty sneeze freed him. Before the dragon could recover his bearings, Ajeel was riding a wave of sand up onto his back, where neither claws nor blazing breath could reach him. He wrapped his arms around a spine and clung on as the sandstorm thickened and thickened… and thickened.
Acnologia, having reasserted control over his animal side, had finally started draining the magic from the sandstorm, but he hadn't counted on one thing: being the weakest of the Twelve was not the same as being weak.
Ajeel's magic spread faster than Acnologia could swallow it. He caught a glimpse of a shadow rising back up from the ice before it was swallowed by the rising sandstorm, and he smiled grimly. By the time Acnologia broke out of the sandstorm, the airship would be long gone.
He just had to hold out for a little bit longer.
The airspace was under his control. Acnologia could not outpace the storm, for Ajeel was on his back, and the coarse whirlpool was centred on them both. No matter how the dragon flipped or rotated, trying in vain to snatch at his opponent, Ajeel's own piloting style had accustomed him to far greater G-forces.
No, Ajeel had found the one location Acnologia couldn't reach. It was simple, really. Why had no one else thought of this? He should have been involved in strategy from the start.
But the dragon was suddenly gone.
The spike Ajeel had been clinging to, gone.
He felt something odd slipping through his fingers – fabric? – and then that, too, was gone.
His arms flailed in the sudden emptiness. Concentrating on the sand closest to him, he formed another wave before he could fall too far.
And in that wave there was a shadow. It was far too small to be a dragon. In fact, from the set of those gleaming eyes, it looked almost… human.
A flash, a twist, and a blade of white energy rent Ajeel from head to foot.
It didn't hurt as much as he'd thought. Right up until the end, he had been too focussed on maintaining the sandstorm to worry about trivial things like pain. It was strange, but as long as the airship had made it to safety, nothing else seemed to matter.
He hadn't thought that dying as a hero was really his sort of thing, but as his last breath commanded the sandstorm to provide its concealment for just a moment longer, he thought there were probably worse ways to go.