A/N: Hey, guys. Thank you for reading thus far! So sorry for the long delay. School and work... Meh, you get it. Anyway, I finally tinkered with this next batch of chapters without changing too much - as I want to keep true to its semi-vintage aesthetic since I wrote it originally in high school. My decision is influenced also by the inevitable shift in Rogue's narration that will surely happen in the next Book, which is sympathetic to how his characterization (internal and external) is going to change with the plot events. And side note: if anyone is getting confusing or suspicious vibes off of Rogue and/or his narration versus his dialogue and actions... good. :D In this Book, I'd tried to keep truer to the Fairy Tail tones (quick action, random humor, and perversion, which I toned down even as a fifteen-year-old), so it's different than my, per say, Fruits Basket or My Hero Academia works. Once I start with Book 2, though, I'm taking full control because... this is Sabertooth-centric (a polite way of saying I'm diverging more from Mashima's style).

But that's mainly for you to observe than for me to tell.

Anyway, happy summer! Happy graduation, Zoomies!

And please enjoy and R&R! Flames will be read, but overall consumed by the Shadow Dragon~!

Ch. 11: The Tower of Tears and the Dam of Screams

The top speed I reach is 150 miles per hour. I've had to stop to scarf down my own weight in shadows only once so far, so at least my magic energy's flourishing today. Given it's nearly eight o'clock, the world provides me a buffet of all the magic energy I'll ever need. But… the night also means my magic's unstable. A buffet's a buffet. I mentally kick myself when I remember I should have traveled during the day from the start. I could have made it to Bosco faster. A stray branch from the forest's thin-spiked trees lashes my cheek when I slide back into a tangible form at half-speed. I plant my feet on a bough and take in the scent around, searching for the citrus perfume Yukino wears. A rushing wind blows my hair from my face as if to amplify my field of vision—or at least try to. Out of the seven of us dragon-slayers, I have the worst vision. Lazy eye. Trees surrounding me dance like shadow puppets in a show, whipping around their arms without control. I rub my hands together to fend off the chill of night and simultaneously pick up the scent cascading from the east. It's faint and tainted with the metallic rusk of blood, but it's there. I need to find her.

I allow my body to collapse—to become one with the ground, with gravity itself—into shadow form and accelerate towards the stark east where the trees open and present a desert. Dunes grow in size as I approach the scent, the sand seemingly darkening with a reddish, copper-like tint. Like blood had been shed over the naturally tan substance. I soar over a mountainous dune and come to a jerking halt, rematerialized. I come to a second halt; before me is a tower of corpses with a flickering torch staked at the top. Appalled, it is as if there is nothing, absolutely nothing, in the world that can tear my eyes from the gray hue to their skin or the stench of rotting, bleeding flesh. It is as if the world has collapsed on my chest. I can't breathe, can't speak. Can't think or see anything but the high stack of death.

My heart strikes against my core without mercy, more so when I hear Yukino's tear-filled voice muffled in the heart of the pile. "Is anyone out there?!" I burst into a fit of coughs, suddenly conscious that I'd been holding my breath. "Please! Help me!"

Relief fills me so quickly I almost swoon. I almost laugh that I'm so relieved as I stand before this atrocity. Ripping myself from this stupor and hurry to each side of the tower, pacing back and forth around the horrid pile. "Yukino!"

Her voice comes from the right, so I sprint over.

"Yukino, answer me! I'm here!"

"Rogue?!" She gasps with a sob, and strangely enough, her thin arm sticks out from the other side, cold blood lacing her ivory skin. "Please, help me! Please!" I trip over my feet as I run and grab her hand. Her wide, watering eye pops out from the crushing bodies around as she squeezes my hand. "Rogue, please! It hurts!"

"I gotcha," I assure, squeezing her hand back. "I'm getting you out of there."

When I lessen my grip, she hurries to clutch my hand harder. "NO! Don't let go!"

"I'm not leaving, okay? Look, I'm right here. I just need to let go for a—"

"No, NO! Please, Rogue! ROGUE!"

"Just trust me." I release her hand, ignoring her screams and outstretched hand that reaches for me. I take a few steps back, gather my magic energy, and dash towards the heap. Putting all my weight and power into a sharp dive, I grab her hand, yank, and engulf us in a swallowing shadow. We pop out on the other side, landing hard on my elbow with her cradled against my body. "You okay?" I ask through our exercised breathing and my own wincing. Slowly, I sit up and watch her as she trembles on her side, rubbing my elbow. "Yuki? Yuki, look at me."

Her soft voice comes through in only short whimpers.

"C'mon, look at me." I gently take her shoulders and hoist her up to sit, taking her hands from her stained hair. "Yukino. Look—"

I jump in a start when she breaks into a blood-curling scream, slamming her eyes shut and jamming her hands over her ears. Then, as if exhausted, she rests her head against my chest, reduced to silent tears.

"Oh…okay," I say. My hands awkwardly hover over her back, unsure what to do. Screw it. I pull her into a tight hug, keeping her head away from the sight. But I'm set on it. "It's all over now. We're going home."

Home, where our family is. Home, where nothing as terrible as this can be seen or thought of.

It's where we'll have to bury Finn. I shiver.

After a few minutes, she sits back up and wipes her tears. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault. You're out here to rescue me with an injured arm."

"I'm fine," I lie, rubbing my arm without making too much of a fuss. I might have added another couple of days for recovery in the fight with Finn. With grief, I hide the pain with a nonchalant stare. But of course, her meticulous eyes can see through me. She can see the swelling that heats my arm and disables the joint, and her eyes start watering again. "No. No, no, no, no. Yuki, it's fine. I'm not hurt, I'm not h—"

She looks into my eyes, and then at her hands that reek of corpses and blood. The words are bundled in a barricade in my throat, unable to make it to speech. It's too late. Quietly, she closes her eyes and lets the tears fall.

"C'mere." I open my arms and take her in again, staring at the pile. The torch at the peak topples over and sets the tower ablaze. A stifled gasp holds like a fist in my chest as I identify each of the chalk-white faces with splotches of scorching brown. I have to close my eyes. To keep the rage contained. To keep my shadow's hunger pangs silent. "Sorry I didn't come sooner," I say, taking in the rancid scent of my failure.

Yukino's sobs echo through the distant mountains, hiccups that rattle trees to the core, and emit a guilty stake through my heart.

"We have to get moving." She shakes her head quickly, clawing at my sleeves, but I grab her arms and hoist her up gingerly.

"Ow! Wait, Rogue!" She almost falls, but I catch her. My eyes study her face first, then the ankle she's clasping, holding her arms for balance. "My ankle…!" It's swollen pink and steaming hot against my clammy hand. She flinches so I withdraw, worried that I might have hurt her more.

"You're hurt." Almost automatically, I kneel before her and unwrap the bandages stabilizing my elbow. She holds out her hands to stop me, but I tune her out. In a few seconds, thick cotton cushions her ankle. Enough to keep the swelling as low as possible, enough to make the idea of walking sound like a bad pun. Then, I spin around on my heel and hold my arms out, briefly flinching at the slicing pain that darts through my elbow. "Get on."

"I can't do that! I won't let you do that!" Funny she says this as she keeps two firmly planted hands on my back for support. Her injured foot dangles over the dirt. I turn an eye on her and stare, not a word or grunt creeping from my throat. It takes about a minute before she finally complies. With the speed and gumption of a cautious fawn, her fingers clutch my shirt, touching the small of my back like I'm crafted of fire. The mass cremation catches my attention again, so I shake my head to fend off the image. "What's wrong?" She draws back.

"Nothing. Just get on. Hurry."

"Okay…"

She takes forever, with reason, moving even slower than before. "Don't…take this the wrong way." Every word is emphasized. Praying, I slide my hands under her…gluteal region, and adjust her weight, securing her to my body. Her legs straddle my waist and her arms wrap tightly around my neck.

I must have touched something I shouldn't have because she yelps out and squeezes her limbs. "R-R-Rogue! What're you…?!"

"What was that?! I mean, sorry!" She hides her face in my shoulder as my face flushes and rises to the temperature of the sun hovering over our heads. "You, uh…okay?"

"Mm-hm," she hesitates.

"I'm so sorry."

"That's…okay. Can we go?"

I shut out the part of me that wants to babble on like an idiot about how sorry I am until she forgives me. Instead I just say, "Yeah." Swallowing the humiliation and nervousness, I clench my teeth to keep my mouth close and hurry to the forest.

##

We walk and walk and walk.

And walk… and keep walking. Never stop walking.

To break the eerie silence, to force a crack down the center of the image of the corpse tower, I say, "Remember that time…" She lifts her face from my shoulder. "When you made me laugh so that soda came out my nose?"

"Oh. I thin—"

"Can you remind me what happened? I don't remember it as well."

Thankfully, she falls into reminiscing, "We were with Sting, Gajeel, Milady, and Levy, right?" Kagura was there, too, but I don't remind her. Why should I? All we did that day was fight and glare at each other. She thought I was checking the women out, and I caught her flirting with some of the guys playing basketball. "The beach-walk with the sidewalk café?"

"Mm-hm." My eyes scan from left to right, searching for any possible danger.

Yukino adjusts her legs around my hips, holding on for dear life. "That's right. I told you that one joke about the salted peanuts, and you snorted, like, half the can."

"It was more because the joke was just so stupid."

"You did laugh, though." She sniffles. "I remember how red your face got."

"I thought my face was gonna fall off."

"I only did it 'cause Levy wanted to know if you were capable of laughing."

"You should've just…" I say, hiding the embarrassment in my voice with a gruff undertone. "The soda felt like a bonfire behind my face."

"You couldn't bring yourself to be that mad at me."

"Not with soda squirting from my nose, I couldn't. That'd make me look stupid."

"You still tried." A smile in her voice.

I try to conceal my own. "What, I can't get mad, too? You endangered my life."

"Not true! Plus, everyone thought it was funny." Yukino laughs, tone hiked up from excitement. "Everyone except for Sting." When I exploded, I accidentally I sprayed him a bit in the face. So while everyone was laughing and while my back was turned to regain my composure, he tackled me and slammed me into the floor. Of course, he wasn't genuinely pissed. He just had to get his revenge. Gajeel had to tear us apart after a good five minutes. "We have to do that again. The beach, I mean."

"Yeah, once everyone has time." I'm relieved she's okay. I'd implode if she became uncomfortable around me because I grabbed her again. I hope she doesn't see me as a creep or something. "Yukino?"

"Hm?"

"Who did this to you? Who took you?"

"I…I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No," she claims. "It's strange, but I don't remember anything. I was on my way back from the job and then I woke up in the—"

She shudders, and I mentally kick myself. "Everything's okay now," I say without thinking, hoping it's consoling. "Nothing can hurt you now. I promise." When I told Yukino about the inmates I failed to save, I failed to see that while I was recovering, trapped in should've's and would've's, Arian was disposing of them. Knowing him, in the most torturous ways possible. Methods I can't even think of, too horrid to even try to. One by one, they suffered and died. Their screaming voices reached no ears, their desperate hands clasped no other, and their dreams to bask under the free sun were never fulfilled. Because I was too slow. Because I covered my ears, kept my arms at my sides. Because I watched too many sunrises and sunsets without truly appreciating the warmth.

Right on time, Yukino drifts off to sleep against my back, hear steady breath like a feather on my ear. Right on time, two unwelcomed tears come. Since I can't wipe them, I have to wait till the wind dries them like imprints on my face. The trees and dirt path disappear when I shut my eyes. To stifle more tears and conserve what's left of my man pride. But it doesn't matter. I was too late. Too late for Finn, for Yuki and those people in the mass. And because there's only one far direction I'm heading.

days later —

I couldn't sleep much last night, or the nights before. I couldn't shake the image of the corpse tower. Everywhere I went was infected with the stench of burning flesh. I didn't even drink. How could I, when this was all my fault? All those bodies and tormented souls at the grimy hands of someone like Arian…if I'd acted sooner…

I kept playing out gruesome scenarios in my head in the dead of the night. I visualized how every one of those people died, what they had to endure before mercy was given—and I became the embodiment of that pain until I made myself sick without warning. When I was granted an hour of sleep, I dreamt that I was at the prison. Arian, the prisoners, and I stood on spread-out pedestals, suspended high up over a glowering fire. It was clear I was pitted against two things: my rage towards Arian and the lives of innocent people. That was my choice. I had a gun in my hand with one bullet. It was an easy choice until I got into my own head. This is a dream. I already failed to save them. Arian's not here. I can't do anything to change the past.

Then I heard Arian's low voice, "Come back to me," repeating over and over again like a broken music player. The more he spoke, the more I ached to kill him. The more I craved his blood, the louder the voices became.

Come back, come back,

come back,

come back. Come

back

home. Lend

yourself to me.

Over and over again. I couldn't block it out.

I froze. I couldn't feel the metal in my hands, but the burn of the fire remained. Slowly, the inmates fell into the inferno and the platform began to shrink. My magic never heeded my command. Arian's cackling was the final thing I heard when I leapt from my side to catch the first faller. Finn's face was the final thing I saw just before the flames overtook us. I never reached him. Only my shadows penetrating through his body.

I woke to my back burning and the scent of his hair in the air. I was drenched in a violated sweat and my claws were out, the metal shining in the moonlight peeking through the blinds. My fingertips were stained black. Frosch was asleep sprawled across my damp forehead and out of the blades' way. Him being there gave me reassurance that everything was over, but there was nothing that could rattle the nightmare—both in sleep and reality—from my mind.

Finn's funeral is long and dreary. The setting is too fitting—white flowers, black attire, and the thickness to everyone's voices. Women dab their eyes with tissue while men consistently clear their throats, but the tears are there just the same. A setting sun bleeds red and gold rays through stained-glass windows, a story of death and pitiful excuses. The silhouette of the cross hovering over the stage stretches right over me. Exposure sears my skin so that I give an infinitesimal squirm, hoping no one notices. Sting's voice echoes out to silence as he closes his eulogy, now giving time for others to share their words. The bruise Finn left under my eye throbs with hot blood and guilt the more I hear his name, the more I have to hear that quiver in my guildmates' voices. I squeeze my hands into fists on my lap until they shake. The pinwheels in his corneas that controlled his body while his mind fought to remain conscious.

Don't let him kill me.

The voice of my friend…as I ended his life. Was it truly mercy, or panic? Could I have saved him if I had not resorted to the easiest way out? Is human life that disposable to me, still?

The guilt makes me dizzy, so I close my eyes and breathe. It continues to crush me down, all the way into the cracks between fine wooden planks, down into the plumbing, spitting me out in the gutter. I break in a sharp breath and suck it back up before anyone can notice—I'd been holding my breath without knowing it. Yukino glances at me from the other side of Lady Minerva, whose stone face is morphed with concern when she turns to me. Frosch plants a warm paw on my chest and stares at me with a downcast smile. I give them all my usual blank stare briefly before turning back to the stage.

I wish I didn't look because Grigia calls me out.

"Rogue," he spits my name like it's crafted of poison, "would you like to say a few things?"

No, I really wouldn't. In a choke, I admit, "N-no." All eyes shift to me, and my ears flare up as I meet every pair. I want to shrink into the chair and become anonymous. Anonymity is what I've craved since Yukino and I returned, since Sting over-worried about me—for sneaking out while I was still recovering. And Grigia knows that, evidently in that snake-like smirk spreading across his face.

He feigns a compassionate tone, "We're all together in this loss. You were close to Finniar, so I'm sure you have some things to say, buddy."

"I—"

"Come on, Rogue, I support you."

Finn's parents, red-eyed, turn and lock eyes with me. Usually, in a situation like this, I'd bow my head and count every step. I'd run as quickly as possible from all this attention. But now, as I rise from the seat, I can't rip my eyes from theirs as they stare back, almost knowingly. And I'm waiting for it. When I walk, it's as if I'm sent back in time. I'm back in court facing judgment, at Fairy Tail following Lucy's attack, at Arian's prison with the inmates gazing at me through the bars.

Their eyes scream: you did this.

I remember all the years I was a pushover and let myself get bullied. Before I can stop it, I'm covered head-to-toe in burning spaghetti, trying to hold back the tears of stifled rage that have already fallen. Watching Sting's back, listening to him hopelessly defend me, another so-called fearsome dragon-slayer. In another second, I'm staring down at a book, pretending to ignore the insults and chants in my ear. My hands smashed under the leather cover of a thick Satanic bible, unable to move until I read from it. I bite down on my tongue and wait until Finn appears to start a food fight so that Sting can haul me to our room. I squeeze my eyes shut to recollect my mind. Am I really that mistrustful of my own guildmates? Or of myself?

Grigia meets me in the aisle, extends a hand, and yanks me close for a one-way hug. "Don't freeze, Diablo. And in case it gets to be too much, I'll be sure to stash a bottle of that crap you Russians chug under your seat. Considerate of me, eh?" he says in my ear, mocking a Canadian accent. If it's all about race, the Russian in my screams for vengeance as the Canadian sighs and accepts his insults as meaningless words. But because we're being watched and this event isn't about us, I keep my face stone, eyes forward.

I stifle the urge to shove him off, and make that nerve-wrecking trek to the podium. I only sat in the second row, but the walk stretched as far as a mile. Far, but not quite far enough. I don't even know what I'm going to say. I owe it to him and the guild to tell the truth. It's the right thing to do. But is now the right time to tell everyone I have our Finn's blood on my hands? If not now, then when? When I reach the podium, my skin rises with shame, my face flushes with guilt, and I come to an unbreakable halt. Just as Grigia predicted. Everyone knows I have difficulty with public speaking and putting my emotions into spoken word. But a funeral is no exception. I have to say something. My nonexistent words are stuck in my throat. They pulsate lower and lower the longer I stand here with everyone studying my every move. I hear a cough and automatically my eyes switch to Sting in the front, who nods with a labored smirk. Lector copies him, as Yukino smiles at me from the end of the second row. Milady, too.

"Finn was…a close friend of mine." Frosch wipes his tears and smiles at the sound of my voice. I eye the photograph mounted by the closed coffin, surrounded by white roses. "He was one of the first people to really get to know Sting and I when we came along. He was like a big brother to us, not in sole reference to his huge stature, that is."

A few light chuckles bounce off the walls.

My skin scorches under the white light. "They say that when a person leaves this world, they leave behind a part of themselves in the place they feel most attached to. And that's true. Finn will always watch over the family he loved. He will always be a part of this guild. His memory will never fade. I clear my throat to fend off my emotions. I need to wrap this up before I break. I face the picture. Words fail to come the more I look upon his frozen face. But I have to tell the truth. I have to, I have to, I have to. "U-uh," I frown when my tongue blocks my throat. "The truth is…"

The truth does not come. It remains in my throat. It slides behind my sternum and falls all the way down just as my conscience reaches desperately for it. My palms perspire and almost stick to the wood. My ears flare up to the temperature of the sun. Frosch comes to the aisle, peeking out from behind Orga's leg, ready to come get me off the stage. Teary-eyed.

I clear my throat again. I can do this. I can end it and walk off the stage by myself. "We will miss you, Finn. Rest easy, bub." I'm sorry.

I don't stay for the supportive applause, but I don't run out like a fool.

The moment fresh air slams into my lungs, a tear falls on my hand. Dammit—they all recognize my about-to-cry face all too well. I didn't want to cry in front of everyone, or even make it obvious that I was about to.
Behind the church, in the garden, I loosen my tie, shed the blazer, and stick my head under the fountain. Cool water rushes down my face and neck. My heart is thudding hard. My vision is doubling. So, to snap myself out of this trance, I inhale the water until it burns my nostrils. A harsh reminder to compose myself. I cough, sitting on the wooden bench nearby. I wipe my eyes of water and push my dripping hair from my face. A few black waves rain down over my forehead, reaching my nose and reeking of the heavy hair gel it took to get it to stay all the way back. A sharp hiccup makes me slap my hand over my mouth. The kind that alerts you of vomit in your throat. But as I'm expecting to see lunch all over this $50 suit, it's just two more thick teardrops. Splattering like two stars on the ashy cement. I close my eyes.

~It was only a matter of time.~

When rage forces its way into my veins, suddenly the bench is overturned and I'm facing away from it. Heart racing faster, pounding harder. First looking at the thing wedged between two white carnation bushes, then realizing how much I've had to fend off tears in the past two days, I laugh bitterly and rake the strands of hair off my forehead. A bit harder when I come to think of how easily my shadow can snatch my attention.

~It was too late. You were too late.~

My laugh becomes a soul-crushing sob—a catharsis of knowing what I did, what I should have done, and what I could not do. I can barely conceal the sound with gnashed teeth. Why did I kill him? Why can't I protect my friends, like I swore I'd do? I did not spare him anything. I stole away the life and family he held so dearly. How could I be so careless? How could I be so weak? I've been alive for centuries and I'm not at all as wise as someone would expect.
The motion-sensing lights flicker on. A ball of white light. Right then, I whip my head around at a familiar scent. And right then, I notice Sting standing there at the gate, staring at me with his eyes a softer, concerned shade of blue. Hiding, I clear the ugly from my wet face, dry my cheeks with the base of my palm, and sample a stoic face, irritated eyes and all. "What is it?" I grouse, trying to sound like myself. But this voice is gravid of sorrow in a way that makes the utterance too round. To complement this act, I shove my hands in my pockets and face him with a stone mask.

"Ah man, dude," he sighs. The concern in his eyes only deepen when he advances towards me. I take a step back, but he wraps his arm around my neck and slams a fist into my scalp. "Stop cryin', Rororororororororo!"

"T, stop. Stop!" I push at his body, but I can't get away. "OW! What's your problem?!"

"Fix your face!"

"Get off me!" When he lets go, I fix my hair. It's going to dry in knots, thanks to him. And thanks to him, I feel a bit better for now. I don't want to break down in a bawling mess. Now I just want to go to sleep. "Your speech was perfect." I close off my body from him.

"Thanks," he says, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Finn deserved that much."

"Yeah." He deserved to live.

"Good guy." My brother's eyes avert to the cracks in the sidewalk first, then to the bench that I flipped. "What're you doing?"

"Huh?" I remain away from him, gathering the last fistful of my man pride. Who am I kidding? He knows me better than anyone. He can pick up on my emotions just by the way I speak. Which is why I have to get away from him.

"What're you doing?"

"Standing here, clearly."

"Why?"

"I'm upset." It's impressive how he can lure the truth out of me. The moment I say that, my self-control is crushed by bereavement. I turn my face away from my brother and frown to will the tears away. It's like no matter what I do the tears won't stop. "I'm upset," I repeat in a weaker voice.

He stares at me as I rub the back of my neck, waiting for me to vent.

"Finn's gone, I can't sleep, and when I do—" I stop because he already knows. I've been plagued with nightmares for as long as I can remember. But what he doesn't know is that they're worse than the usual. Without my shadow's voice in my ear, regret is what yanks me from sleep. I squeeze my face together to keep from crying. "I can't—" I take a chopped breath. "I don't know if I can—"

"Rogue," he says in a tone that makes me begrudgingly meet his eyes. "C'mere, dude."

After a second, I submit to my emotions, to his call, and let him roughly pull me into a hug.

He slaps my back, making a thud sound. I'm too weak that I can't even return it. "Finn wouldn't want this for you. Don't cry, man."

He's right—Finn wouldn't have wanted this. Any of this. He wanted to live, but he chose to die. And I chose to kill him. My face is hot with more unfallen tears. I bury my face in his shoulder and focus on regaining a firm hold of my emotions. His scent and presence, like all the hardship we faced growing up together and apart, is all the comfort I need. "Yeah," I say, muffled by his jacket. "Sorry."

"Shut up."

Sting's becoming master hasn't had any real negative effects on me until this moment. In this moment, I miss him while he's right here. I'm gobbling up more of his time than any council meeting could. We may be the Twins and he may the only real brother I have, but that doesn't mean I should require his complete attention. I'm not a child anymore. I haven't been for centuries. He has more responsibilities now, and I should have enough confidence in our brotherhood not to be this emotional about it. I can't be selfish. So I pull away. "Thanks, T. I think I needed to that. I'm fine now."

"Good?"

I nod twice and let a wide smile spread across my face with a small laugh. "I should fix that bench." T's eyes turn to it, sprawled in the flowers. "I kinda…flipped it."

"Yeah, I saw your hissy fit, bruh." He helps me lift and place it back where it belongs. "Lookin' like a caged Tarzan."

"Dude," I warn, casting a sharp glare at him from the armrest. He breaks into his own crazy smile and cackles at me. I try to frown, but break into laughter with him.

Orga's voice is a hoot in the distance, "Yo, Twin dorks!" Lady Minerva, Rufus, Yukino, and the Exceeds surround him. "We're heading to dinner. You coming?"

Sting starts walking, loosening his tie even more. "Yeah! C'mon, Ro."

"I, uh," I sniffle and rub my eyes. "I think I'm gonna go for a walk. Clear my head. You go ahead."

"All right, man. Catch ya later, then?"

"Yeah. I think we gotta catch up on our ghost shows, huh?"

"Hell yeah, we do!"

I can't help but smile wider.

later—

A misty moon—a fading entity in complete desolation—remains suspended in the sky as if hoisted up by its ghost-like beams. They never touch the earth. I reach my hand through one and notice how the air feels colder, fresher, and denser. It's a spotlight, a searchlight; either way I avoid it by stepping to the far right, almost pressed up against the railing. I look away and to the gushing water coming from the open sluice ten feet down. The WARNING and DO NOT HANG OVER RAILING signs blow in the wind and bang against the metal rods. My ears ring from the crashing water, but solitude is what I crave. I hop up on the thin bar of the railing, balancing one foot before the other, feeling the cool air blow mercifully on my skin, through my shirt. The sensation of soaring, of complete freedom.

But in this time, Arian tears into my mind. His menacing smirk, the low of his voice, the malice beneath his ambiguous words. The morbid trust I once had towards him, suffocating while I was simply dust in his crushing palm. All for the hell of it. Other than to tug at heartstrings, what other purpose does brainwashing Finn and kidnapping Yukino serve? He's obviously trying to lure me out, but for what greater purpose? He's using the people I love as bait. Thankfully, at first glance, Sting and I don't look like the types of people to be associated with one another. Hell, if Arian remembers how I was as a kid, he'll think he stole away my entire social by now.

Maybe that's a good thing. Play the mourning victim until the opportunity to kill him emerges. Or I could just take him down without the waiting part. I sigh and stare at the water, holding onto the bar. As predicted, my hair has dried into tangled, hard waves that are damp at the scalp. My head is hot and tender while my ears are nearly ice cold and numb. The wind makes my hair slap my face in a dark frenzy. It's been two hours since the funeral ended, so I guess I should start heading home.

The skin on my ankle is scrapped when a cord snakes its way around it. Just as I pause my stride to free it, I'm yanked to the floor, landing hard on my shoulder, and dragged at immense speed down the walkway. My knuckles burn against the cement, like the skin is peeling off to expose bone. Using all the strength in my core, I roll over on my back and sweep my legs around like helicopter propellers, slicing the cord with my retraceable claws when it flies over my head. My body flies, spins, and flips at the slowdown. A crash-landing. I end up on my face, free, but not away. I can already smell him. "Bastard."

"Nothing like the nose of a monster." Grigia's hot breath pricks at the back of my neck. I toss my head back so that the crown bashes into his nose. He falls back, clasping his nose as blood leaks through his fingers. Sympathy does not intrude my heart, rather satisfaction and resentment gets pumped through my body.

"What do you want?" I demand, standing over him. "I don't suppose you followed me out of harmless curiosity."

"Well, look at that!" He opens his hands and smiles with blood in his teeth. "The animal has a mind of its own."

"What do you want?"

"Rogue," Daryk's voice is hollow over my head. I freeze. He's behind me. "Don't make this worse." When I turn, I'm lifted by the neck and then slammed against the railing over the water. When I open my eyes, I'm dangling upside down by my collar, my hair almost touching the racing water of the dam. I can barely stifle the fearful gasp that escapes my throat, and I cling to the material of his coat. But I don't let them see it in my face.

Grigia stalks over, smiling over me. Every one of his bloodstained teeth is exposed. Adelphi, Orga's lover and Fiore's freelance, our comrade, curls around his arm and whispers something in his ear that makes his smirk expand. "What's wrong? Scared?" He chuckles when I clutch onto Daryk's arm harder.

I'm not afraid of any of them. I'm not afraid of anyone. What I'm afraid of is drowning, being controlled by the current. Screaming in an environment where no one can hear me, not even myself. Helplessness. "Daryk." Fear delivers a shaky whisper to my voice, but I keep my scowl tight. "Daryk, what're you doing?"

"Your presence has endangered us all." He says this with stone-hard, unreachable eyes. Unrecognizable eyes. Daryk has been another good friend of mine for the past three years. He's always been a gentle, easygoing man. He would never say that to me. "We know about Lucy Heartfilia. The mass genocide in Bosco. Finniar."

"Wh—" My eyebrows knit down.

Grigia pats Daryk's shoulder and steps forward. "Don't think any of us bought that bullshit speech. We know what you did." As he speaks, Daryk leans me further to the water, making my grasp tighten. I reach higher by his elbow. My toes can't even skim the cement, so I wrap my legs around his body tightly. My shadow peeks out to my left, watching with a squinted eye the color of blood.

"His body was found in the exact route you took to sneak away to Bosco," Adelphi adds, a taunting chime in her voice. It's similar to a rat, no wonder I always thought she was annoying. "Once the big man noticed you were gone, you can imagine the panic." She fakes a pout and gets closer to my face. "Where was his dear Twinsie?"

"Off killing one friend and saving another to make up for it." Grigia also comes in close. I contemplate sinking my teeth into his neck and ripping until he runs away screaming—
NO! I can't allow myself to become overly violent. I just need to calm down and focus on freeing myself.

"But you're not as slick as you think, cankee. Look at you."

I ignore her and the racial slur and stare into Grigia's gray eyes. "So, you called Daryk to do the dirty work and Adelphi to watch the show with you?"

"It's for the greater good, buddy."

"Take that 'greater good' and shove it up your ass." Just as I say that, Daryk lets go of my collar. Thankfully, I react quick enough to grab with both hands at the fabric on his shoulder. He stares wide-eyed at me, and I stare sharply at him, hoping he sees only anger in my eyes and not terror. If I go, so does he. So naturally, he hesitates and lets me dangle there.

Adelphi hums, bulging eyes switching from Daryk to me. "Ooo, he's so afraid~…Maybe he'll suffocate before he hits the water."

"We would be safer if he wasn't here," Daryk, my friend, approves. Catching the shock on my face, he reels back an arm to punch me.

Instinctively, I free him of my legs' grip, kick him heavily in the chest, and flip backwards, catching my balance on the wall above the sluice with a firm grip on the ledge. My elbow and ribs scream for mercy, but I refuse to stop here. He collapses against the other two and they go tumbling over each other and away from me. Rage is what drives me over the railing and advancing towards them. Grigia gets up first and charges at me. I deflect his swinging arm, driving him to the floor, and peel off my tie. Red blurs my vision as I wrap it around his neck and watch him choke. His gasps and heaves are intoxicating; the blue around his eyes rejuvenate the wild side of me that I thought had died after the last war. Becoming civilized was a mistake. Adelphi screams and claws at me as Daryk watches, in a petrified stupor. I stare at him. He'll be next. After I kill Grigia, I'll kill him. I'll kill Adelphi while I'm at it.

A startling pulse snaps me back to consciousness. Pain stabs through my temples, behind my eyes, and down the middle of my forehead. I drop the ends of my tie and jam my hands into my head, covering an eye with the base of my palm to alleviate this immense pressure.

~Kill,~ it says. Every part of my mind screams it. It's everywhere, inescapable. ~Kill, kill, kill, KILL.~

A broken record, replaying that horrid word to an audience that listens too well. To a body that can barely resist. I fall to my knees and curl over, tearing at my hair, my head bashed in the floor. Quivering in agony, quivering from malnutrition.

I lose control.

My wails reach the sky, but without ears to listen. I'm drowning in my own power. I lose touch with myself, what I stand for, what I believe. The bridge connecting my heart to everything Sting's told me, the time Makarov and Gajeel helped me, all the women I've ever loved, shatters. The strength I've fooled myself into thinking I possess is nothing more than dust in the wind. I decompose with every lurch and jerk. My voice splits into two, then three, then four when I wince and choke and yell.

It goes on, ~kill, kill, KILL!~

Daryk approaches me from the left, a resistant hand outstretched to me. But all I see is blood red, gushing red. "Get…AWAY FROM ME!" I rage at him with my teeth bared, my claws famished for their blood. Everyone jumps with a start at my voices. In the battle with my magic, I somehow only manage to let myself through, though my grasp on my magic is weak and fragile like glass. "MOVE! Stay the hell away! GO!" It's my final plea just as I drown.

They're all staring at me with horror in their eyes.

Backs against the wall…nowhere to go…

Pale white faces…heartbeat racing with fresh blood…

Prey waiting to be snatched, begging for it.

They're mine.

Stop!

Grigia brings out a knife from the waistband of his pants and approaches me with a trembling fist. Shadows engulf my body and the space around me. A monsoon of black that only allow the red of my eyes to glow. The voices sneer and cackle. Dust and water kicks up and sprinkles like rain on us. But still, he foolishly pushes on in the hope of ending me. I Roar at him, purposely missing his head by an inch. He trips over his feet and falls on his back. Adelphi screams again. Daryk backs up and takes off. Smart.

I stand and walk over to Grigia, another voice cackling at the way he squirms. "Aw, you're going so soon? Don't you want to screw with Diablo?" Against my will, a blast of shadow magic emerges in a stalagmite from the ground, slashing Grigia's shoulder to draw blood. The blast knocks him to the right and sends him tumbling.

He hurries to his feet and starts running. I resist my magic with everything I have inside when it tries to lash out again.

Stabbing agony sends me lurching to the side, out of breath. I cough and block out the order to kill everyone, the order that is repeated over and over and over again in my mind. Meanwhile Grigia yells something to Adelphi that I can't hear over the commotion. She's almost frozen as he tugs her along. Once they disappear, I continue to struggle. "Stop…!" I wince. "It's over…!"

~Get them. End their lives for what they did to you.~

"I said stop!" Heavy-booted footsteps scurry from the right. I pause and sniff the air. Shit.

"Rooooo~!" The grip falters. I jerk my head in the direction of Sting's voice, then in the direction of the security guards. Sting's back at the guild, I can tell by the faintness of the scent. I have to get to him. "Hey! Ro! Rororo! Rorororororororo! Where ya at?!"

My heart accelerates the more I begin to smell gunpowder.

"I can smell ya! Don't even try to hide!"

I glance at the black markings that stain my arms. It must have already spread to my face. I can't let them catch me like this. I can't let Sting see me like this. Flashlights and barking dogs come whizzing and darting across the area.

So, I do what I do best aside from killing.

I disappear.