A/N: Thanks for sticking around, guys. I was super nervous about this story because it's a bit out of my usual genres and my writing style has changed since I wrote this. But again, I wanted to keep it as-is mostly because it can also fit in with Rogue's narration during this Book.

Thank you, everyone. Please enjoy the last few of this Book.

Please R&R! Flames will be consumed barbarically by the Shadow Dragon.

Ch. 18: Scatter

Madam V's voice intruded the blackness of my mind, along with the mustiness of fire, sweat, alcohol, dirt… Her voice escalated, impossible to bypass. A gold glow came cascading through the darkness. The more I heard the patter of raindrops and felt the chill from the window. My arm was restricted nearly my ankle, and I was seated on my knees atop a flimsy pillow. I cast a look over my shoulder toward the door. Her silhouette eased in slowly, every step brings an echoing strike of heels on cement, each step with precision. And impeding pain.

"Ryos," she repeated. Owing it to past times she had caught me awake after lockdown, my heart stopped and I froze over, nearly as much as the tundra outside. Our eyes met through the shadows—around us, the other kids cowered under their blankets and waited to watch me get punished. Punished—more like, tortured. Beaten. "What are you doing awake at this hour?"

"I—" My voice caught because I had no real reason, in their eyes, to be awake. She came closer to my bed and placed a hand on her hip, holding the lantern to my face. I dropped my head. "I don't know."

There were snickers in the background. I did not have to lift my eyes to know they were laughing at me. Madam V hissed at them, "Silence, or you all," she looked at me, too, "may as well stand up and assume the position." Everyone flinched. She turned back to me, fully. "Ryos. Tell the truth."

"I was watching the lights," I admitted in a voice smaller than an atom particle. She raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth—probably to start lecturing—when I continued, "See." I pointed out the window at a flurry of white-hearted lights shooting up in the sky, each rimmed with golden sparks. Muted fireworks that shamed the stars around. Sting. He was out there, somewhere. Away from me. This was our only way. "The lights appeared again." She hummed as if amused. I rested my chin on my arms and watched the fireworks fly. "They're always there. On my birthday, each year." Another birthday without my brother. For some reason, I trusted the madam enough to tell her that much. I knew she would not go out to find more child spies-to-be to torment into submission. No—at the physical age of an elementary schooler, a century into my actual life—I knew by then that the one she really wanted was me. And she was the only one I could trust, even if by a little, beneath mounds of fear. If anything, I trusted her rage the most.

"Very interesting, Ryos," she said, crossing her arms. "You must feel quite special."

"Yeah." For the first time since I was abducted and forced into the Red Room Circus-turned-Academy, I smiled. It came with a stubborn pull, as if I had forgotten how to do it right. "I hope that I can see them up close once I graduate." I failed to realize I had said this aloud until everyone started snickering again. But I did not care. All I felt was…this tragic, but pure happiness. Overwhelming joy, yet sorrow that filled my eyes, nonetheless.

When I get down to it, I think all I really felt was this intense longing for Sting. If I spent even a year longer in that hellhole, I'm sure I would have longed myself into the deepest pit of darkness, waiting for him.

But I did not let that happen. Instead, I started killing, promising myself that bloodshed would merit me just another day with him by my side.

"Well, I'd say you make sure you train harder, so you do graduate," Madam V said, seated on my patchy mattress. I nearly fell off the windowpane at the sight of her supportive smile. The madam never, ever smiled. Beauty came to her naturally, yes; but stone solidified her face into a constant, frigid glare. Her polished hands opened the single sheet of my bed. "After the lights are done, you better go right to sleep. Understand me?"

"Da, Madam."

"And happy birthday, syn." With that she stroked my hair from my eyes. The entire room was hushed in shock. I did not ponder on it that much—I was the only male to get as far as I did at R.R., anyway. But my eyes were already turned back to Sting's magic, enjoying his distant company while it lasted, knowing full well how much he missed me back. Wherever he was. I was never one to be disrespectful to the trainers, so that was probably why the madam did not reprimand and beat me for lack of manners that night. She just left.

Again, I hardly noticed. That night was reserved for Sting only. It was reassuring to see that he was doing well. Well enough, probably better suits the situation. But it was still reassuring to know that while I was rotting away at the academy, there was someone out there waiting for me. I'm sure Sting felt the same way.

My magic offered nothing beautiful like those lights. But I tried. Like his light show for my birthday, I sent him shadow figures on his birthday. Dragons dancing around in spirals, mainly; or wolves playing and running around trees. This time around, I'd sent him a flurry of bears and horses, or wolves. Even then, I called him T-bear; and he came up with the ridiculous nicknames Rorse and Rolf, when I'm not Ro or Roro.

I know, we're stupid.

But I had to make animals or figures—otherwise, shadows just look even more sinister and threatening. Sometimes, he sent me the same things back—their white, beautiful twins. Two heartbeats of each passing year: one in February, one in September. We were pacing the days.

I used to write letters, too. But none of them left my side. I still have them, my poor attempt at legible penmanship, in a small box behind the junk in my desk. I read them over from time-to-time when loneliness becomes too much to bear—no pun intended. They give me hope. Or remind me of what I have to lose.

I think Madam V knew how I felt because she smiled at me more around the chambers. Until the day Arian visited. I could not recognize her after she had sold me. I could not even look at her the same, fearful way. My regard of her become morphed with something more twisted, more sinister than simple fear. We met eyes like members of opposing armies. No direct hate, no direct affection. All there was…was vacancy. Dismissal. My terror of her increased with every caning she saw fit to give me, but especially with the night the chip was implanted in me. The night she let me get mutilated. She let them ruin me, crush me into disposable sediment, never bothering to level the dirt out.

I was never the same after that.

Water can never be made hot enough. In addition to the agony of losing Sting, Gajeel's abandonment, smiling genuinely—much like killing, torture, espionage, and concealing myself in plain sight—became a crafted art. One I came to master with the passing centuries.

I'm too good that I terrify myself sometimes. That's how I check myself.

Once I stop flinching at the thought of what I've been trained to do, I don't know if I can stop.

And no one would know. Again, I'm good.

Hatefully good.

##

"Rogue, plea—…wake… Ro—…! Rogue…!"

Just rest…

I jerk upright, drenched in frigid sweat.

"Rogue?!" Yukino places a hand on my face, turning my chin to meet eyes. "It's okay! It's gonna be okay."

"No, it's not," I gasp, looking around. "Nothing is." I scramble to my feet, searching every crevice, under every rock, over every heap of dirt. A gray mist hovers over the debris-heavy ground. "This isn't good. This isn't good…!" Lector flinches at my voice, seated on Yukino's lap. I push all the hair from my face, distressed, panicking, "STING?!"

"Wait, Rogue!" Yukino stands. "You have to calm down!"

I hurry inside the vacant guild. "MILADY!" No one answers. I turn on Yukino a little too narrowly, our noses only an inch apart. She flinches, holding her hands to her chest between us. "Are you okay? Hurt?"

"I'm fine, but please." Her eyes have widened. "You have to—"

I spin around and rush to another pile of debris. "FROSCH?! ANYONE?!" my voice echoes off the rubble, left unanswered before disappearing into the thin air. No one's answering. Where is everyone? I can't pick up on anyone's scent. "Where is he?" I advance toward Yuki, who draws back a step.

"Who?"

"Grigia. Where is Grigia?"

"I…I don't know. I didn't see him."

"I'm going to kill him."

Tendons in her neck pop, her chin wobbles, and her voice comes out in a whisper. "What?" I'm scaring her.

But right now, sorry to say I don't care. "He's around here somewhere."

She slowly approaches me, sticks a hand out to touch my arm. But when I turn to her, she quickly takes it back. "Rogue, you're not thinking. Please, calm down. We have to find the others."

"Oh, we will. Then I'll kill Grigia. And Arian."

"Wait, Arian?" Yukino's eyebrows scrunch down. She shakes her head. "Grigia? What?"

"He did this. Grigia is helping him. God…damn it!" Yukino shakes where she stands, but it doesn't reach her eyes this time. I turn away from her. I can't even look at her. Or let her see me. "I knew this was going to happen. I knew it! Somehow—just somehow—I knew!" My fists clench, nails piercing my palm. "And still, I did nothing to stop it!"

"No one could predict something like this." That's what one would think. It's an attempt, a plead, to comfort the one who is clearly at fault. She gets close to me, like she always does. "Grigia has always been a bit…cruel. But no one would have thought he'd do this."

I look at her, but all I see is red. I see her, but then again, I don't. "He's as good as dead. Once I find him—"

Yukino advances toward me so swiftly that my words vanish. "Rogue, no." Her hands grab my face, gentle even in the way she snatches. The scowl contorting her expression nearly makes her unrecognizable. "We always say the old Sabertooth is dead, and it is."

I can raise the dead. I'm capable.

"So, with that means that we do not hurt our guildmates! This isn't you! You're smarter than this!" As she speaks, she gets close enough to me that I—Shadow Dragon—draw back. "No more talking like that, all right?"

I hold my hands up. "U-uh, okay." To be honest, for a moment I forget the anger that fogs my mind. For another moment, I'm taken aback by her. She lets go, and I fall to my knees when I realize… I let everyone down. I couldn't protect them, or myself for that matter. They're all gone. Even worse, Arian knows where I am, which means Yukino and Lector are in danger, too. Yukino inspects my hand. "I'm sorry, Yuki," I say, mildly embarrassed. "I didn't want you to…" To what, see the truth?

"You're not one to cause harm to your friends." She says this with pride, with certainty; but the words, the truth refuting them, slice me down. I shake my head to rid the thought. I need to focus on finding everyone. I need to kill Arian. My final kill. I can't tell her that, though. Yukino takes my hand, "Let me see if I can…" She squints at the remnants of Grigia's poison in my palm. It reeks like tree sap, a corrosive tree sap. She pinches it, prying at the gelatinous material with precise fingers. "Wait." I pull my hand from her. "You'll—"

"It's okay." She watches me, eyes wide and patient. I study her hand, the tips of her fingers, to find nothing discolored or burning. No metallic scent or cringes of pain in her expression. "Here, let me see your head. That's a bad gash."

"I'm fine, I—" She dabs the blood from my hairline, and only now do I realize its sting. "This worked on me," I refer to the gelatin poison. "Why isn't it… Ow."

Yukino draws back, caution in the way she turns her body from me. "I'm sorry." After a while, she comes back and presses her sleeve to my cut. Gentler this time. "It's a type of lacrima. I heard about it during my time as a Cherry Blossom sergeant. It's poison—works kinda like ketamine."

"Great."

"Once it's made contact, it takes over the victim's sensory nerves and numbs them." She flings the goo from her fingers onto the floor. We watch as it loses volume and becomes a liquid splotch. "The reason it doesn't work on me is—"

"You're not a dragon-slayer."

"That's…who it was developed for."

"Well, it works."

"It's not supposed to be so easily accessible. Only elite members of the justice system have authorization for this kind of weapon."

"Who created it?" I frown, turning back to her.

She glances at me. "I'm not sure… Whoever did this to you isn't a fan, though."

"I told you, Yuki, it was Grigia."

Her eyes lock on the gel again. "You could have really been hurt if someone else found you."

"Grigia never liked me. Of course he'd be the first in line to want to take me out here. But," I stop, looking at the rubble and ash, at the fire that sends embers of the sediment of our guild into the black sky. Yuki follows my eyes. A moment of pondering, dreary silence washes over us. We connect eyes, and hold each other tighter, closer than any other time before. I keep her back to the destruction of our home, from the torn, scorched sight of our flag—but I stare at it with unblinking eyes.

Our home is gone, our flag disgraced, our family scattered.

My kill list has expanded.

No regrets this time.

After what seems like an eternity, we let go of each other. "What does it say?" she asks, staring at the branded scar on my hand. With the back of her hand, she wipes her tears away and sniffles. "What…is it?"

"You can see it now?"

She nods. "It was just a small burn before." Her fingers gingerly trace over the raised marks. "It's like it's doubled in size. What is it?"

"Poslushnyy. Means 'obedient' or 'conforming' in Russian." I turn my hand over and inspect the writing. The line across the word has reappeared. "It sometimes has that strikethrough. But it wasn't there when Grigia poisoned me."

"How cruel," Yuki says, monotone. "Who…would do this…?"

"It doesn't bother me."

"You got it from Ortega's party, right?" Her brow furrows in thought. "Do you think he did this?"

"I didn't smell him that strongly when it happened. But that would make sense. Maybe…"

"Who else did you speak to that night?"

"Just a lady wanting to dance. She didn't follow me after I left the floor." She opens her mouth to say something when a siren goes off. It's an earthshaking noise with a shrill so harsh, it strains my ears. I wince. "Jesus. Where's that coming from?" I scan the area.

"What noise?" Yukino approaches me, a hand out to touch my shoulder. "I don't hear anything." I look around, and she squeezes my arm. "Rogue? I don't hear anything."

"You don't hear that?" I ask with impatience in my tone. "It's blaring."

Yukino considers this for a moment, then shakes her head. "Okay. What does it sound like?" I glance at her and understand why her major is in psychology. She has that trying-to-understand stare.

In my peevish panic, I notice how lucid the polluted sky seems, smoke illuminated with the flicker of fire. The screeching falls behind my eyes, pressurized and in need of release, and my vision blurs. I squeeze my eyes shut. "It's… I don't know. Buzzing—no, scratchy."

"Scratchy and blaring…" Yukino repeats. She searches around us, eyeing anything that can cause this.

"A powerline, most likely."

We both spin around. Seeing our uninvited guest, I hurry to my feet and shield Yuki with my wobbling body. She stands to my side, but away from me.

I recognize her—the scientist from Arian's prison. The one who locked the shock collar around my neck. She stands before us with raised hands in surrender the second shadows cough from my hands.

"Stay back," I say to Yukino. Then to her, "What're you doing here?"

Her thick eyebrows lift. "I was caught up in this mess, just like you. I was on my way to the merchant's down the road." She steps forward, but stops when I flash my fangs at her. "My name is Dris Ortega."

"You were traveling?" Yukino asks, stepping from behind me. "Your name is Ortega? So, you co-hosted the party months ago."

"Yukino," I warn. I cannot risk losing anyone else, so I stay her with my arm.

Dris lowers her arms. "Yeah. I did. How glad am I that two Sabertooth members visited my home." I would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to fall for that. I can smell malice on her skin like perfume.

"What do you want?" I ask. My elbow nudges Yuki's chest when I urge her back behind me. A sharp gasp escapes her, but I'll have to apologize for that later. Right now, my eyes never leave Dris. Years of working in the shadows has taught me to rely on no one, but gain the trust of all. So, I step forward. "Do you know who's responsible for what happened here?" I force down the bite in my tone. "Our guild was attacked and some of our members are missing."

Dris stems her thumb to her chin slowly, eyeing the two of us in thought. Plotting, most likely. She inspects the untouched structures of Sabertooth. "It wasn't Arian, that's for sure. This is too…"

"What, flashy?"

"Tame. Unlike his associates at…"

RR. Seems she knows Arian as well as I do. I frown—he must have told her I where I was raised. Trained. A series of small, high-pitched coughs catch our attention. I sniff the air. "Lector."

"Lector?" Yukino steps to me, casting glances around. "Where?"

"In there." Casting a binding spell onto Dris' feet, without her or Yukino noticing, I rush into the rubble where our kitchen is. Was. Our kitchen's trademark gold crystal chandelier is sprawled by the sink, pieces cracked, chipped, and reduced to sharp, scratched-up nothing. I search the wreck of whites, gold, and silvery chunks that had been part of the stove and fridge.

Yukino follows without hesitation. "I see him!" She drops to her knees and starts digging. "Lector! Hang on!" I follow the scent and go toward the oven, moving around chunks of backsplash and cabinet door. She comes over and digs with me. A small pink and red paw sticks out from the debris, peeking out from tattered indigo fabric. Our dining room table's scarf. Yukino gives a whimper of concern and building relief, and digs around the paw. Eventually, she retrieves Lector in her arms and holds him to her chest. "Lector, I'm so glad you're okay!" He coughs out ash, eyes fluttering.

I hold his downcast ear and run my thumb along the softer inside of it. "Thank God." I meet Yukino's watery eyes for a moment before standing. I shed my old, bleach-stained red plaid flannel and place it around her shoulders. She nods in gratitude and turns her attention back to Lector, whose coughing punctuated the moment. I go back to Dris, sporting a scowl unseen by any of my guildmates. I don't need to see myself to know. It feels all too familiar.

She frowns at me. "You placed a paralysis spell on me."

"And you tried to fight it."

"I don't appreciate being tethered to the floor."

"How about from a tree by your toes?" I cross my arms. "So, tell me. Who are you really and what the hell do you want?"

Dris tries my magic's grip once more to no avail. "I told you, Cheney. My name is Dr. Dris Ortega. A teratologist." The word punctures my gut, but I don't show it. Centuries of practice. Least her field of study and experimenting on me suggests that I—a dragon-slayer—am human in actuality. Just a human freak that exists only to be poked and prodded if found. I watch her. She watches me. "My younger brother is Kroff. We hosted the party you and that pretty girl attended."

"I'm only grateful you're here because of her." We both glance at Yukino in the distance, on her scraped knees, cradling Lector into my flannel. By the clean lines on her cheeks and the saltine scent in the air, I know she's crying. And by the hint of perspired deodorant that swells alongside the smokiness, I know Dris' watching me, trying to dissect me in a different way than before. She has no safety in Arian's company this time, no security in a lab coat and shackles on my limbs or shock collar around my neck. And she knows it. She hitches a breath when I look at her. "She needs community when times get rough. She's good at caretaking. That's how she copes, y'know?"

Dris' nasolabial creases etch deep, then release when she realizes I'm watching her every move. She knows I'm RR. She knows I was the top student, the youngest graduate. I could kill her with her own hair if I wanted. And she knows that.

So, I offer a trusting nod. "You're not hurt?"

"Not too badly." She moves some hair behind an ear and glances at one of the dying flames by what used to be our bougainvillea garden. "Just a bit knocked. Who's that?"

I follow her eyes to the collapsing arch that leads to Sabertooth's hot springs. An onslaught of veins sever the limestone, infecting it with an air unfit for such a delicate, stubborn creation. But it crumbles with every time I blink. Beyond it is Laxus, tattered, grayed, and bleeding—no surprise. In his arms… MJ. Knocked out cold with a piece of torn clothing to stop the bleeding on her temple.

Yukino gasps and hurries to their side. "Mira!"

I meet Laxus' eyes. "You okay?"

"Fine." He holds MJ closer to his body at the sight of me.

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know. She was passed out when I found her." With that, he sniffs her neck, along her collarbone, her ash-ridden hair that pours nearly to the floor. My chest tightens, but I dismiss it before I can react. Poison fumes are bound to be somewhere around, with all this smoke and heat. It'd be a resourceful tactic if someone truly wanted us dead by now.

To isolate me.

But no. This is the preliminary phase of Arian's attack: the toying. Take away safety and slowly insert into the minds of the target. Set up suspicion to charge ally against ally.

I turn back to Dris to see her adjusting her coat, fumbling with buttons that are nearly too broad for such thin hands. "So, where to?" She looks up at me. "I'm assuming you have a plan."

Lector moans and flutters his ears in his sleep. Yukino runs her thumb along the tread of his fur. "We should find shelter first. There's a big one just outside of Shirotsume," she suggests.

"That's miles away," Dris exclaims, scowling into the distance.

"The further we are from Sabertooth, the better," Laxus states.

I clear my throat. "Fairy Tail, too, for that matter."

He nods, gazing down at MJ as if she was nearing her last breath. And to be honest, I want to say something to ease him. But I don't. "Whoever did this will assume Sabertooth would reach out to ally guilds."

Yukino's eyes trail off in thought. "We could assume everyone else is trying to get to Shirotsume on their own. It's the closest shelter to Crocus." She meets my eyes, searching for some response.

Lector coughs out smoke, looking up at Yukino. "Worth a shot."

Dris steps over a collection of shattered stone. "We may as well start looking for who's responsible."

I turn to her. "You know something."

"There's an estate in Shirotsume. Near the shelter." She taps my hand, the marked one. Even though the burn has scabbed, I ball my fist against her touch. Low enough for the two of us to hear in privacy, she whispers, "It may have something to do with this. You want answers, don't you?"

"You know something about that?" Yukino steps into the space, staring Dris down. "What is it?" I step away from Dris to open the conversation up. Might as well. This group is what we got; it'd be wise to keep everyone in the loop.

Dris gives a hesitant nod, eyeing Yukino back. "I remember seeing my father with a few documents about it when I was a girl."

"What?" Laxus frowns, so I show him the mark on my hand. Comprehension is slow materialize on his face. But when it does, he switches his eyes up to me, slit and suspicious.

"I only got a peek at it before I was caught." Dris crosses her arms. "The Conformed. Dragon-slayers. Dragon-slayer magic. Dragon lacrima. All of it, Dragon-related. And"—she shakes her head—"these… odd pupil dilations. Like flared… I don't know. Like when you're baking and you plop whipped cream on top of the cake? That shape. In the eyes."

The translucent pinwheels in Finn's eyes. Those eyes that bulge out in my dreams since I killed him. Some kind of mind control—or another pitiful excuse that suffices as grounds to kill him. Grigia… It was tattooed on his back. Is there a difference between locations, or saturation, or the means of application? I rub my eyes; but when I realize I'm making my stress evident in my body language, I stop. Yukino is the first to look at me. "Keep Lector with you."

"What?" she asks immediately as I walk away from the group.

"You heard me." I don't stop. "Take him and find shelter with everyone else." The denseness in the air spells her next question out too clearly. "I'm going after Arian."

Footsteps. A tug on my shirt that breaks upon my next step from her. "Then we're coming with you."

"Uh, no. You're not. You're going to lead the others to safety."

Yukino walks by my side now, eyes stubbornly placed on the side of my face. "Either we go together or we stay here. We're not splitting up."

"Yukino. No."

"We're not splitting up, Lord Rogue. Please understand."

"Sometimes, splitting up is necessary."

"Let us help you. This isn't the time to—"

I stop and turn to her. She recoils. "This does not concern you. The more I wait, he's out there taking more lives than I can count. I can't—" I can't, what? Afford to lose anyone else? Fail another guild member or Fiorean civilian we mages are sworn to protect? No, this is beyond my mage duties. This is deeper than simple service—I caused all of this. My blood, my magic, my selfish desire for my freedom that made me reveal the true nature of a third-generation Dragon to Arian. I take a calming breath. "Just go."

Yukino doesn't move.

"Don't be stubborn, please. Just go. You need to get everyone to Sting and the Lady. This doesn't concern you."

She stills, and for an instant, I think I've scared her. Regrettably, I was trying to… without going too far as to break my cover as the quiet, gloomy me she knows. But instead, she clutches Lector closer to her chest and storms up to me. "This doesn't concern me? Don't be stubborn?" Her voice remains in its usual softness, but anger laces every syllable. "This Arian person just destroyed our home. He abducted me! He trying to capture you and do God-knows-what to you! Doesn't that mean anything? Don't' you think I'm hurt and scared, too? Or Lector, or Laxus, or the others?!"

I frown because I know she's right.

"Rogue," she snaps, frowning without fear at me. "We are family. Arian's trying to tear that apart. He already took Finnie's life and if he takes you, too…" She looks away, scowling too hard for the delicate details of her face. Tears form and disappear from her eyes when she demands my attention again. "Family sticks together. So, no. I won't go and I won't stop being stubborn until you do!" Her eyes sparkle with assertion, a storm ruffling up inside those caramel beams. They dare me to say anything else.

So, I groan and rub my neck. "Fine."

Yukino takes a slow breath.

"Is everyone up for a walk?" I go around the circle, greeted with slow and sure nods. Lector, with a displeased pout, gives me a determined nod from his cradle. "All right." The more people we find, the better. I gaze over their heads at the tattered Sabertooth flag. Ash darkens the violet to a blemished charcoal. The roaring tiger's head is disgraced by fire-induced holes and debris matting the design. As if it had just survived a stampede of hurrying feet in careless strides. Sabertooth, my home, my first home since I've tasted true freedom in Fiorean America… is comatose. Empty. Bloodied by enemy assault intended just for me. Silent.

Yukino comes beside me, eyes set on the ripped insignia. "We shouldn't leave it like that."

"I was thinking the same thing." We evade each other's eyes. This is war. War reserves no time or space for comfort. Only contemplation. Only retaliation. "Start a fire. I'll get the flag down." Silently, she places Lector down and goes to collect wood and active fire.

"For?" Dris asks with a hint of annoyance.

I leap to the most stable-looking cement arch near the flag. "A proper disposal." Unhooking the emblem of home from its post, I land in a circle of dust in front of her. "Lector, are you okay enough to help Yukino?"

"On it!" He raises his paw at attention and rushes off to work, eyes heavy with mournful tears.

Laxus places MJ on the floor, leaned against a fraction of what used to be the supportive structure of the kitchen's bay window. Her white hair falls from a collapsed high bun, decorative jewels hanging from strands. Bangs brush over long eyelashes. Debris staining olive skin fails even now to hide its radiance. Laxus glances at me. "She's going to be fine, so quit staring at her."

"I wasn't staring. Don't get your thong tied up." Embarrassment prickles the hairs on the back of my neck. I avert my eyes back to the flag as I fold it in a neat triangle. "Yukin—"

"Almost done." She's down on her knees, blowing at the embers until they spark to the beginnings of a flame. Relieved, she sits back on her heels and catches her breath.

Dris chuckles, nudging me. "Jealous, Shadow Dragon?"

I narrow my eyes. "Don't touch me." Dismissal is always easiest with a task at hand, so I sit next to Yukino and start giving oxygen to the flame. I tap Yukino's knee and point to a bundle of fallen branches, some leaves intact.

She hands them to me, throwing some in herself, and calls back to Lector, "Can you get some more sticks, please?"

"Aye aye!"

"How's this?" she asks when I stop blowing.

"Great." After Lector drops a few more stick from charred trees in, I stand next to Yukino. We don't bother with words or sighs or glances. We know what's coming. An image we never wished to see. This is our home… and it's collapsed, our members dispersed. Lector lands on my shoulder closest to her and he extends a paw to her shoulder. This is all we got right now. Us three. With a final breath, I show her the folded flag in my hand. She places her hand on top of it. Lector, too.

And we place our flag into the peak of this ravenous pyramid, the tiger placed skyward. Yukino folds her hands behind her back. Lector salutes with a moaning whimper as the fire consumes the fabric. I cross my arms and pretend I don't see the orange sparkles in their watery pupils through the extra smoke. "I can't believe this happened," Yukino mumbles.

I can't mourn for long, not like this. I'm not righteous like them. No. Instead, I'm blistering angry. But because Yukino's words repeat in my head—words of family—my resolve is hardened into a desire to avenge. Revenge will wait. I close my eyes to compose myself. "Our guild aims to stun the heavens." I see them both look at me, tears streaming. I can feel the others behind us watching, too. "To rouse the land beneath us and to silence the raging seas. That is the Sabertooth way. The Sabertooth way is to protect family and comrades."

Bring hellfire. Banish mercy.

I look at them finally and pray they don't see the malice in my eyes. "Tigers bow to no one." Nodding at the remnants of our flag, I conclude with, "Abandon all other feelings here with our flag. We leave in five." And I walk away. I can't afford any more mistakes. Searching the folds of my soul, I can't locate the part of me that's flawless. The me that was nearly perfect, that Arian and Madam V adored. That me I need now. He's somewhere deep inside me, but like our dignified flag, I worry he's nothing but charred matter. First radiating and rising, then fading and falling. Gone, somehow, when you need it.

Against my heart's cry, I reach into myself, my magic, for my Shadow. I ask: Find him. Force Scarlet Death to the surface.

I lower my eyes to the brand on my hand, taking in the unforgettable scent of flesh ablaze that it emits. I place my other hand over it and stand beside Dris with Yukino and Lector, hugging, in my peripheral. "What's the name of the place you're taking us to? The estate you mentioned."

"My childhood home."