Author's Notes: Finally! Done with this arc. Hope you all enjoy the finale! Also, there should be a side-chapter in Detours for this going up around the same time. You can read them in either order but I wrote this one first so ... maybe read it first? Up to you. As per usual for this arc, angst and minor gore warning. ALSO. I have a Tumblr blog now! Still figuring out what to do with it, but if you wanna come see the random reblogs that catch my eye and some snippets of my writing, then please come on over! The link is in my profile, but here it is too just to save some time: secret- engima. tumblr. com (just add the https thing at the beginning and put it together) please note that I wander from fandom to fandom so it isn't only FT stuff on there (or even mostly, like I said, I'm still figuring out and how to hunt down my favored fandoms.
Review Responses: Dear Cyan Sung-Sun, hi! Well, thank you for sticking around :). I'm glad you like the reveal! There's another one in this chapter but shhhh. I did see that review! I read all my reviews and try to respond to them when I can, and I will admit, I died with joy on the inside just from reading it.
Dear Satre, hey there! Well thank you, that's a high compliment! (tips hat) Enjoy the finale of this arc!
Dear The weird one, greetings! Not a problem, I'm happy to help. But yes, if you really want to understand everything absolutely go watch it! Just ... watch out for the gore content and the drama. It's NOT like Fairy Tail. At all.
Dear Captain 1, hello there! Aww, thank you! I hope this chapter is just as exciting for you!
Dear Kano, hello! I'm glad you've enjoyed the story so far! To answer your question: No. Wren will never physically speak in this story. I do plan for her to learn telepathy eventually, but that only works between mages anyway. In the future she will still mostly rely on her sign language and spelling words with her shadows, with some use of telepathy amongst other mages. I started this story with the full intention of her being permanently (physically) mute and I frankly enjoy keeping her that way. I'm glad you enjoy it too, because yeah, there aren't a lot of fantasy stories or fanfic that don't "fix" a character with a disability instead of letting them just be awesome as they are.
Copyright Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail, Attack on Titan, or any references made in this story. The only things I own are my OCs and this train-wreck plot.
Chapter Forty-Two: Walls Come Tumbling Down
(2 years, 3 months, 3 weeks, 5 days since joining Fairy Tail)
.
To say that Fairy Tail Luck was friends with Murphy would be an understatement. Fairy Tail Luck was Murphy's closest lover, and their kids were all those fortunate —and unfortunate— enough to bear Fairy Tail's mark, as well as all those who happened to be too close to a Fairy when Murphy's laws —also known as Fairy Tail Luck's sense of humor— kicked in.
The infiltration of the Underground had gone swimmingly. Mest had teleported the team in short bursts wherever they needed to go to avoid being spotted, and it turned out there was a giant hole in the ground that led straight to the sunless city in which Levi, Isabel, and Farlan had been raised. The hole was unguarded and only Levi and his friends knew about it apparently. It hadn't been the comfiest fit for Mest —the hole was big enough, but it wasn't deep enough for him to actually get in without crouching—. Wren had wondered if the hole was there in canon and she just didn't remember, but it was a moot point, so she had quickly put it aside.
The trick after that, of course, would be to get to the sacrificial chambers in the exact center of an entire city of paranoid little people without being noticed and reported to the Military Police. For better or worse, that was right when Fairy Tail Luck had first begun to kick in.
The communication card Mest had tucked in his pocket had gone off and Cana had managed to yell something about the biggest, skinless monster she'd ever seen showing up outside Wall Rose before Wren felt the sickening buzz of black magic all around shudder convulsively over her skin in pain-glee-warning-pain.
Wren hadn't been surprised when their cover was blown by Cana yelling over the card titans were forming inside Wall and now a titan taller than the Walls had just kicked straight through one and let even more titans come pouring into one of the cities attached to the outside of Wall Rose. It was the Trost arc all over again, only there was no Titan-Eren to help, because the little bundle of aggression and trauma didn't have a titan transformation. Luckily —hah— the Raijinshū were there to help out instead and some of Newgate's kids had already arrived to help evacuate freaking out civilians. But after Cana had shut down her card to concentrate on dealing with the mob of titans, everything on Wren's end of the plan had fallen apart too in a spectacular manner akin to a dumpster fire.
As in, by this point, dumpsters were literally on fire, along with many, many other things.
Wren, before they'd had to separate again to carry out their haphazard plan, had shown Freed the magic circle and while he couldn't decipher all of it —and didn't want to keep it long enough to do so—, he had warned that it looked like the magic circle was designed to create things that hunted magic signatures. But, considering the magic circle covered most of the island, there was nothing for the creations to hunt but the very magic that created them, which was why they kept going after humans and clustering around the circle nodes —which, at this size, were the cities like Shiganshina—. As the titans managed to damage the circle that created them more and more —Shiganshina, Wall Maria, all the stabilizing nodes/towns between Maria and Rose—, the circle would become more unstable and self-destructive.
Which, of course, meant that Trost happening did a lot more than just terrify all the unfortunate people in that city. The assault, miles away that it was, broke the circle enough that Wren could feel the stagnating magic in the Underground warp and claw at itself until titans —only up to her waist, so malformed they couldn't walk properly, but there were so-many-of-them— began peeling up out of the broken streets and walls. Because why not. Obviously Wren hadn't had enough trauma in her life.
Her memories of what happened next devolved to snapshots of yelling, screaming, and the stench of burning trash and blood mingling with the scrape of broken-warped-angry magic against her senses that made her so sick she could barely see straight as she ran. The team got separated somewhere in the chaos. Wren thought Mest might have teleported off to help evacuate people to the surface —everywhere was going crazy, but at least above ground they didn't need to worry about being crushed by the earthquakes the faltering magic circle was causing—. Levi's team of scouts had scattered in pairs and trios at different points of the race to the city center, each trying to cordon off the growing hordes of tiny crawling man-eaters while other people with 3D gear —Military Police— just zipped around being basically useless.
There was a memory, mostly buried under everything else for now but sure to be marveled over later, of a particularly crazed man in a uniform accidentally ruining Levi's 3D cables while trying to get to Wren. Of Levi falling toward the ground and the open-mouthed titans below only for his shirt to rip open in the back as two beautiful feathered wings —like Happy's from the anime, but colored like the symbol of the scouts on his back, a symbol of desperation and freedom— flared into existence. Of Levi flitting back into the air, quick as a swallow, blades delivering death and protection in equal measure as they resumed running —or flying, in Levi's case—. But by the time Wren really managed to come back to herself, nauseous beyond belief and shaking from adrenaline, Levi was on her shoulder, wings nowhere in sight, yelling in her ear to hurry up and get them inside the sacrificial chambers.
Wren squeezed her eyes shut, reached for the writhing shadows as the ground shook. The tremors were getting worse, making it even harder to concentrate on picking out a shadow that was inside the cold-black-wrong stone walls she was pressed against. Whatever was happening, it was making the circle deteriorate even faster. Normally she wouldn't care. Normally that would even be a good thing, if the circle deteriorated on its own, then its effect would eventually stop. But a deteriorating magic circle turned on itself, destructively and violently, and they and thousands of innocent people were inside the effects of that violent destruction.
Considering the level of destruction already, the sheer size and age of the circle in question … the island wouldn't survive complete deterioration. She had to destroy the key. That would cancel the magic circle instantaneously, free the earth from the effect of the spell without having the spell tear itself out of the ground in the most destructive way possible. She had to do this. The Raijinshū, her family, was out there, fighting in this place because of her. If for no other reason, she had to do this so they could be safe and go home. Girding herself with that thought, Wren grabbed hold of a shadow that felt like it was on the other side of the wall, wrapped shaking fingers around Levi —her only backup for whatever lay beyond—, and pulled.
The shadows rebelled under her touch, everything was cold as ice and her black holes and somewhere in the past-present-eternity thousands of people were screaming-. She dropped out of the shadows with a half-drowned gasp, Levi rolling free of her numbed fingers to gag at the floor.
Being outside the shadows wasn't much better, the air was so coated in warped magic that it was like breathing in the middle of a forest fire. Her skin burned and crawled and her stomach rolled to the point she couldn't care less that she was in a giant room built like some kind of twisted shrine, or how all the pedestals and ancient stone furniture were all proportioned for a human her size or larger rather than Levi's size. There was miniature scaffolding everywhere, built on and around everything, and there were crystals glowing a faint, sickly green-black-red in key corners of the room.
There was a pedestal in the center of the room, a book —her size, proper size— sitting on top of it and Wren had just enough time to realize that she was right about the book being just as real as the magic circle when the chamber shook and titans smashed through the far wall. Levi swore and his wings flared back into existence. His wings faltered under the sheer weight of warping, enemy magic, then solidified as he took off across the room to head off the titans.
The walls of the chamber shook under another earthquake and dust rained down from the ceiling as Levi whirled back and forth across the chamber, chasing and dodging, steam filling the choking air as titans fell only for more-more-more to come pouring in through the broken wall. Wren pressed her hands to her aching head, trying to think past the nerve-scraping pulse of wrong-wrong-wrong- to do what she needed to do. Levi blurred past, blades flashing as he flitted about the confined space of the chamber like a swallow, only just faster than the monsters chasing him. Another rumble shook the chamber as the titan went down and her senses wailed as another four crowded into the chamber in its place.
Levi flipped over grasping, mutated fingers with barely an inch to spare. Wren tried to stand, felt her legs turn to jelly and acid in her mouth at the mere thought of going further inside the room. I can't do this- Her watering eyes caught on tattered green as a flailing limb nicked Levi, sent him reeling in the air, one arm now limp and face twisted in pain. There was a flicker of time as he fell, grey eyes locking with hazel across the shaking cavern of a chamber. Then he recovered with a flip and a hummingbird's heartbeat of magic, his remaining blade clenched tight as he bellowed, "Wren!"
The shout jolted through her and she grabbed it, clung to the demand —the plea, the promise, the command— ringing in it. Forced her legs to work and her hands from her head as she straightened her spine and ran despite the nauseating screams of dark-twisted-hungry-wrong tearing at her mind with every step she took.
She stumbled to a stop against the pedestal, flinched at the feel of magic-soaked stone against her bite injury, reached blindly for the book on top. She had no idea what she would do with it really. She had to destroy it, but right now, with just how unstable and sick she felt, she didn't dare reach for the doors in her mind. If she removed the book … maybe the circle would falter enough for her to finish the job. Or something. She couldn't really think straight beyond the need to do something.
Her fingers wrapped around old leather, thumbs rubbing against ancient parchment and ink and suddenly she was lost.
.
.
.
High archways and endless halls, pillars engraved with old blessings. Porticos that let the fresh air mingle the scents of green grass and fresh paper and ink together. A place meant for the muted chatter of hundreds, all there to learn, all there to teach and study and create.
All dead. Save for one lonely set of footsteps, echoing from room to room, a single survivor returned at long last in the hopes of finishing the accident-nightmare-curse- once and for all. In the hopes of finally ending what the silence still remembered.
.
.
.
Diagrams and theories, the ground work of something greater yet to come. Paper upon paper, crumpled and burned to prevent accidental spell use, ink pot replenished time and again for days-months-years until it was complete and all that was left was to compile all the necessary knowledge into a book and see if it worked.
.
.
.
Ink stains on pale fingers —her-hands-no-not-her-hands-not-Wren's-hands— glowing almost red in the light of the magic circle as it lit and curled and created-.
Horror.
Revulsion.
A moment of staring, of gasping under the sheer weight of revulsion as the- the thing crawled into existence, then lumbered in a mindless circle, a creature that wasn't dead, but had never been —would never be— alive. It turned, reached, maw gaping open in hunger for the magic-life-existence it could never have-.
A swift flick of shaking hands, a familiar, practiced twist of will-rejection-cease that had been planned just in case something went wrong, now being used because everything had gone sickeningly right, and the thing was gone, sizzled into nothing but steam.
The book fell from shaking hands, clattered to the ground with a thud of judgement, hands clamped over shaking lips to keep from screaming.
What had been done —what did I do?— what had been created —evil-wrong-why-did-I-do-this-why—
Magic shuddered, ripped outward like a whirlwind, settled too late. Teary eyes stared down at withered grass and there, amid the horror and revulsion, reason came.
He had done what he had to. To end it once and for all.
And, heaven forgive him, he was going to do it again.
.
.
.
Wren gasped beneath the weight of age-time-pain-I'm-so-sorry as unfamiliar memories that didn't belong to her guided her hands in a frantic shuffle of pages, slammed one palm on an old diagram —built into the core of the book, just in case it went wrong, just in case it went right— and yanked with all of the desperate magic in her body.
Everything stopped.
The chamber stopped shaking, the rotting magic smothering her twisted, shrieked one last time, slithered back into the book in a stomach-churning pulse of void-hunger-empty that only she could feel. In the silence that followed, her breathing sounded very, very loud.
The weight of foreign memories slid off her shoulders like blood and rainwater. But as they faded, Wren felt the regret, so deep it seemed like it would devour everything that had ever been good in the world, everything that had ever been worth something inside herself. Felt the knowledge the author had held of just what kind of monstrosities —potential for monstrosities— had been created. The knowledge of just how far the author had fallen, to create something this evil —she told herself that the sins crawling down her back like clammy claws weren't hers, it didn't help—. The sorrow and revulsion and regret that had sunk into every page with every stroke of the author's pen.
Felt the knowledge that he was going to do it again anyway.
Wren knew, even before she closed the book and traced shaking hands over the letters on the cover, exactly who the author had been. Saw the name —the face, the voice, the madness— in her mind's eye even before she saw it engraved in leather through her tears.
"The Book of Hunters" proclaimed the elegant English script that was surrounded by fancy little swirls and elegant decorations. Below that, the name of the author was carved in far simpler letters. A single word imprinted without fanfare or care for the sheer magnitude of it. Five simple letters that promised to turn the world upside down.
Zeref.
She was holding one of the Books of Zeref. Those memories —so strong and toxic they had imprinted into the ink and leather— slipping and fading from her mind had been Zeref's memories. A window into the despair, the desperation, that had led him to create all the monsters of Tartaros —the ones that killed Gray's family, tortured Erza, broke Lucy's strongest link to her dead mother's memory, tried to make Elfman murder his own family, left Wren's Raijinshū writhing in agony from poison while two children cried and chose sacrifice over defeat—. The madness that would lead him to be the primary antagonist of the series finale that she'd never gotten the chance to finish.
She clutched the book in shaking hands, swallowed air past the loneliness and self-hate still icing over her bones —not-hers-not-her-sins-let-her-breathe-please-let-me-breathe—. Somehow, she managed to push herself to her feet and place the now-inactive book back on the pedestal that had connected it to a spell that had been active a hundred years too long —the spell that never should have existed in the first place—.
She took one step back, then two, reached into the back of her mind where her doors hummed with cold and void from which nothing could escape. The pedestal and the book vanished into the black hole that appeared, ice coating the small crater that formed where the key to the circle had sat for a century. Wren pressed a hand over her mouth as she felt the book writhe, fight the black hole's destructive power for all of a second before it was ripped apart with a noise akin to a scream that echoed solely in her head through her doors.
The black hole snapped shut. Wren stared at the crater, held the silence in shaking hands. It's over, she told herself, it's over. Her hands drifted down to curl around her waist, it's over. Levi dropped down onto her shoulder with a harsh breath. Leaned against her head with a shaking shoulder, "It's over, brat. You did good." She didn't respond, she didn't have the energy to. Levi tugged on her ear, hard but not unkind, "Come on, let's get out of this filthy place."
Wren nodded, numb and blank, and walked out the hole the titans had made in the wall. She stumbled through the underground city with Levi perched and breathing hard on her shoulder, listened with only half an ear as the rest of the scouts who had come with them underground emerged. There were the members of the Levi Squad that Annie had killed in the anime, a dusty Isabel, a few others Wren couldn't identify, and even a member of Newgate's crew —she wondered when Namur had gotten there, if Mest had brought him, then found she didn't have the energy to care—. They were all still alive somehow. Some of them hurt and many with broken blades, but all still alive and talking.
They all fell into step around Wren and Levi, all talking about the same thing. How the earthquakes had stopped and the titans had disappeared in mid-motion, dissipated into steam like their napes had all been cut at once. Wren listened to them and felt … nothing. Not happy or scared or victorious or even angry. She just focused on putting one foot in front of the other and the feeling of Levi pressed against her neck, quietly barking orders at his scouts.
It was easier to climb out of the hole this time, the earthquake had widened it and crumbled one of the edges to form an awkward slope that could be used to climb out of the now-ruinous underground city. Wren didn't really listen to the exclamations of the scouts that had scrambled out ahead of her, so when she finally did climb out of the hole and into the drizzling rain she hadn't known had started, it was a shock to look up and to realize that-.
The Walls were gone.
Not standing there, inactive and useless reminders of the titan-creating spell. Not crumbled into chunks and pieces from the earthquakes or the sudden deactivation of the magic circle's key. Just … gone. Like they had never been. Without the Walls, she could look out over the island straight to the cloudy horizon without any obstructions beyond the drizzling rain.
That was when the pathetic little loop of, it's over, in her head finally, finally sank in. It really was over, done, the island was free and the titans were gone and she was- she had-.
Wren dropped to her knees, gasping silently on air that no longer stung her lungs with the stench of rotting magic, no longer scraped across her nerve endings with a sensation of wrong. The tenuous box in her mind where all her emotions for this adventure had gotten crammed finally burst from sheer relief and Wren tilted her head back to the sky as she sobbed. Tears mixed with rain down her face and past her closed eyelids as all of the fear and stress and anger and confusion that she'd pushed down surged up and out in a silent wail to the sky. She didn't really notice Namur's helpless hovering, afraid to touch her and make it worse but unable to leave. She didn't really notice how Levi —instead of ordering her to shut up or complaining about her making a mess— chose to press his body more tightly into the crook of her shaking shoulder, a silent anchor of life and sanity until Mest and the entire Raijinshū appeared with a pop of magic.
She didn't really register her family crowding close, pressing hands or shoulders to any part of her they could reach. Bickslow at her back with his arms tight around her waist and his face buried in her free shoulder. Laxus holding her hands, Cana clutching one arm. Evergreen and Freed huddled against her sides on either side of Bickslow while Mest's hand ran through her hair. She clung to the warmth and comfort of so many familiar magics around her without thinking about it, crying too hard to thank them or offer any comfort in return. She wasn't the stable, comforting adult of the group right now. She couldn't be. She'd been the adult for as long as she had to —through the terror, through the confusion and memory loss and evil, evil magic—. Now she just had to break, just a little, or else she would shatter into too many pieces to ever fix.
She cried from the pain. She cried from the stress. She cried from terror and the too-fresh memories of evil magic scraping her nerves raw. She cried from the sheer relief that it was over, the titans were gone and her family was alright, the people she'd found trapped on this island were free and no matter what happened next the titans were never coming back.
And, somewhere amid all of those emotions, if she cried in gut-wrenching grief for the boy who had waded willingly into death and madness because of how deeply he cared about life. If she bared her teeth and screamed silently at the sky in rage and anguish over the sins that were not her own that she could still feel crawling down her back —rage that the sins had been committed, anguish at the motive she could feel still coiled under her ribcage like an invisible wound— … well.
That was a secret shared solely between her and the rain.
Fairy Tail left the island a week after that. The Raijinshū in its entirety were whisked away to the ship within hours of destroying the Walls and didn't set foot on the island after that point. But Newgate was a responsible man and he knew about the dangers of tearing down an integral part of a society and then just walking away.
Wren heard later about the Survey Corps pulling a coup of the local government with the help of Newgate and his kids, of how a young new recruit to the scouts was found to be one of the royal family and set up as the new queen by the Survey Corps as she had witnessed the help of the "giants" firsthand and had had no part or knowledge of the magic circle. Of how Newgate freely gave the information the stumbling, confused population of the island would need in order to function in a world that would now be able to find them, as the storm which had once blocked off their island had disappeared when the Walls fell.
Wren wasn't there to see any of it. She was perfectly content to just stay on the ship, surrounded by the Raijinshū and having her titan bite treated by Marco —it would scar, she knew that even before Marco pursed his lips and apologetically told her it would—. She stayed on the deck or in the cabin for the most part, letting the adults in body as well as mind handle the fallout while she tried to get her thoughts back in order.
Her memories came back not long after the Raijinshū told her about why they were on the ship and why the ship had been anywhere near Isayama. Newgate and his children had all been hired by an extremely wealthy man who wanted desperately to find out what became of his son, a magic-wielding history lover who had braved an eternal magical storm to see if the ancient texts he'd uncovered were right and there really was an island of little people there. That had been years ago and anyone else might have given it up as another case of a dreamer drowned by the Storm, but the father had received a garbled message from his son not long after his son left on his quest that spoke of a shipwreck and the mystery island being real.
The father had been trying to hire people to brave the Storm and see what had become of his son ever since he received the message, but for years no one had been dumb enough, or brave enough, or had a ship strong enough, to actually make the attempt. Until Fairy Tail got Newgate and his crew. Makarov had called Newgate in to offer him the job and the giant had arrived the same afternoon Wren remembered heading down the guild hall for lunch. The Raijinshū had overheard, gotten curious, and asked to come along. Newgate had agreed readily enough, because he had a magically-enhanced ship and a crew full of capable mages ready to protect the kids if anything became too dangerous.
But the Storm had been much fiercer than even Newgate anticipated, and had breached a part of the lower hull just as Wren was passing by. She had been swept out of the gap when the emergency magic pumps kicked in, which was why her next memory after the water rushing toward her was waking up on the beach of Isayama with a memory gap.
Wren wasn't sure how she could have survived something like that, but she had, and this was a world where the impossible was just a matter of willpower, so she'd let it go at that.
In all the drama of her being swept away, the madcap plan to bring down the Walls, and then everything that came after, nobody had gotten to search for the missing son. But Wren remembered how Farlan had believed that Wren had enough magic to fuel the creation of another Colossal Titan. She thought of how the titans were attracted to any sizable source of magic, how getting a message out past the magical interference of the Storm must have created a veritable beacon of magic, and privately thought it would be better if the son remained undiscovered. If only to save the father from having to see whatever remained after the titans had found the son.
As for Wren herself in the aftermath, the Raijinshū were understandably clingy around her, never letting her be alone if they could help it, and for once she … appreciated it. Deeply. They made wonderful distractions, and Bickslow had no issues using his Figure Eyes to tell when she was spiraling into memories and pull her out of them. Bickslow and Wren ended up spending a lot of time in the crow's nest, shoulders pressed together as they looked out over the sky and waves and listened to the crew below while Laxus kept the other Raijinshū busy.
Hanji managed to get on board for all of five minutes before she was dragged away by an exasperated scout officer named Mike and was told to leave the giants' ship alone. Wren had managed to crack a smile for the first time in days at the scientist's babbling, wordy wail at being taken away. Isabel and Levi came to visit too, astonishingly, and though they were incredibly twitchy around so many giants, Isabel was undeterred in asking Wren how she was doing while Levi somehow ended up migrating to Laxus's shoulder to avoid clattering feet and "all the f*ing filth on the deck don't you idiots clean this ship at all?".
The almost amiable silence between the two was a tiny bit concerning, but Wren let it slide. Especially since Levi had come all the way to see her —to protect Isabel from all the strange giants, Wren was sure, though the way he deigned to quietly pat her knee and mutter a curt bit of advice for dealing with titan-based nightmares was still touching—. Levi also pried a few flying tips from Marco, as apparently his wings were so rarely used he didn't really know what to do with them —something about having to hide his magical ability from the Isayama government as a child or else be forced into the Military Police—.
Wren wasn't told all the details of what was happening on the island, though she assumed "chaos" would be an understatement considering the sudden disappearance of the Walls and the equally sudden coup against the royal family —who had known about the book but refused to admit whether they knew that it created the titans or not—.
Eventually, the Rune Knights and an official ambassador from Fiore arrived and Newgate deemed it best to sail before the Rune Knights could detain them for "tampering with dark magic". Wren watched the island shrink into the horizon until she couldn't see it anymore, one hand cradling the bandage over her newest scar.
It felt … very sudden, somehow. It was hard to believe the entire adventure, and the revelations that came with it, had occurred over less than two weeks.
"Wren?"
She didn't look away from the horizon, but she did relax her grip on her bandage and instead offered her hand to Bickslow in silent invitation. Her brother took her hand as he came to stand next to her by the railing. His head tilted in her direction and she caught a flicker of green behind his visor, "You don't seem very happy that we're finally leaving."
Wren shrugged. She was happy to be leaving, really, but she also felt guilty for the mess left behind and there were thoughts she just … couldn't get out of her head. A tiny chill, faint but already familiar, slid down her spine and she found herself prying her hand free of Bickslow's and signing before she could think better of it, "The book that controlled the circle."
"Yeah? You said you destroyed it."
"I did, but…" She hesitated. She hadn't told anyone that the book had been written by Zeref. Using the Eclipse Gate in the Grand Magic Games had been a major crime, so major that Mest had erased everyone's memories of it save a select few in order to preserve the peace of the entire nation. How much larger would the repercussions be to a tiny island nation, stumbling to regain its footing, if it was discovered that they'd been using —even unknowingly— one of Zeref's spells for a hundred years? She didn't want to risk finding out.
She changed her words mid-sign to talk about the other thing that was bothering her, "When I picked up the book to stop the circle … I saw things. Memories. Sins. But they weren't mine." She stared out over the ocean waves, anchored herself to the sunlight rather than the echoing hallways and despair she still faintly remembered, "It was like the person who wrote the book had poured a piece of themselves into the pages, and by touching it, I saw that piece. It's how I knew how to stop the circle so I could destroy the book."
Bickslow chewed his lip as he leaned against the railing, "That's … creepy. But Laxus said that magic was tied closely to willpower and memory right? So it's probably just because of that."
"Then why wouldn't anyone else have known how to stop the circle, Bickslow? Why would the first person to use that spell dare use it at all if they could touch the book and see what it could do, what it would cost? Why didn't anyone else who went down into the chamber to maintain it see those memories and realize they could stop the titans?" Her fingers almost fumbled she was signing so fast as she practically shouted with her fingers, "Why did I know about the magic circle before ever touching the book? If I could pick up the memories strong enough to dream them, why couldn't Levi or anyone else born with magic on that island? Why didn't any of you see it in your sleep right before we split into teams? Why just me?"
She slammed her hands down onto the railing to emphasis her point, ignoring the way curious stares bored into her back from across the deck as Newgate's children carried out their tasks. Bickslow stayed silent for several minutes before he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, "I don't know, Imōto. I didn't think of it like that. I … we could ask Laxus. Or Newgate. Or Jiji when we get home…" Wren shook her head, Laxus she wouldn't mind telling, he had kept his word about her future knowledge and he could keep this a secret too, but telling one of the other adults…
She shouldn't be afraid to tell them. She shouldn't. But she was. Because they would ask who wrote the book and she wouldn't be able to lie to either of them, especially Master Makarov. She would have to tell them who wrote the book, who's memories she'd seen and felt like her own and…
Everyone acted differently once Zeref's name entered the picture. The Rune Knights had locked up Jellal because they thought he'd been "possessed" by Zeref. Cultists who thought they worshiped a death god rather than a terrified, half-mad boy still roamed in every dark corner of the world, waiting for some opportunity to summon him or make sacrifices to someone they didn't even understand. Those who weren't cultists were terrified of the mere mention of Zeref's name, ready to attack and destroy anything that had his signature on it, and Zeref was readily blamed for every sin or travesty people could create with magic and no one ever doubted that it was somehow his fault. Hadn't the Princess's favored knight —the one with the bushy hair, she forgot his name— even blamed Acnologia's creation on Zeref rather than believe the word of a dragon who was there and said that Acnologia created himself?
Even if Newgate or Master Makarov didn't react horribly to the knowledge that she'd somehow seen the memories of Zeref tied to that book, they would remember that she had done that. The suspicion would be there. Suspicion of what, Wren couldn't imagine, but even the wisest people could make incredibly erroneous assumptions when they didn't know all the facts and what facts they did know were steeped in fear and legend.
Furthermore, if, by some great luck, they didn't come to any bad conclusions and didn't treat her differently —even if it was only to be more protective—, the more people who knew, the greater chance it would get out somehow. Even if what had happened was a one-time fluke because of how steeped in black magic the island had been, if any of the many Zeref cultists heard rumors of a girl who could "see" Zeref's memories…
She didn't need that kind of complication in her life.
She leaned into Bickslow as she signed, "Not Master Makarov or Newgate. Maybe Laxus, but not the rest of the Raijinshū either. It was … it was probably just a one time thing."
Bickslow squeezed her shoulders in reassurance, but she could hear the doubt in his voice as he mumbled, "If you say so Imōto."
They dropped the subject after that, only bringing it up once more in the middle of the night to tell Laxus while everyone else was asleep. Laxus had given her a very concerned look and half-suggested that it might have something to do with her future-sight, but Wren had shot that idea down and insisted Laxus not tell anyone else. He'd agreed and, by the time the Moby Dick sailed overland back to new dock built on the lake around the back of the Fairy Tail building —after stopping a few interesting places to make up for the Raijinshū's first terrible seaboard adventure—, the Raijinshū's mood as a whole had bounced back to acceptable levels.
Newgate insisted they take a good chunk of the reward as recompense for how badly the mission had gone for the Raijinshū and allowed them to go straight home without reporting to Master Makarov.
Despite the mostly improved mood, the Raijinshū were content to huddle in the lighthouse for another four days, dealing with the newest round of group nightmares. Bickslow's were the worst next to hers, as he had looked at the magic circle with Figure Eyes —the descriptions he whispered through tears in the night were … horrifying— but the others had all fought titans, and titans were nightmare fuel on their own.
But, once again, the oddity of an anime world —or maybe just Fairy Tail— compared to the world she'd once known reared its head. Already the nightmares were far fewer for the others than they had been at the start of the voyage back, and while Wren still had far more than she would like, they were … less somehow, than she had expected. Like her mind was, somehow, getting used to processing and moving past the nightmares bred by her experiences in this world.
The only nightmares that really stuck with her were the ones of her old world, the Nightmares she still could not determine the origin of, and now the memories shown to her by the book of Zeref, and even those had begun to happen with a certain kind of regularity she could learn live with.
She should have been disturbed by that. She'd always thought Fairy Tail's ability to bounce back from trauma was a bit odd and rushed, but experiencing it —looking back and realizing that she was moving past the trauma much faster than when she'd first woken up in Earthland years ago— was something else entirely. Which was probably the reason why, after four days of hiding out from the world, the Raijinshū had returned to normal just enough to be going stir crazy in the lighthouse —and something would have to be done about the cramped living conditions, soon, because Wren could see Evergreen's puberty hurtling toward them like a truck and she didn't think anyone would survive that in a house this small—. Stir crazy had always meant going down to the guild to blow off energy before, and their close encounter with a book of Zeref certainly hadn't changed that, so down they all shuffled one afternoon to finally rejoin the usual guild activities.
Wren took a deep breath as they entered the guild hall, relishing in the familiar chatter and friendly jibing of the various members. A quick scan of the guild revealed the usual faces, and the lack of broken benches or chairs meant that the daily brawl hadn't happened yet —surprising, considering it was mid-afternoon already—. Laxus made a beeline for the bar to order something, Mest, Freed, Evergreen, Cana, and Bickslow on his heels. Wren trailed along behind, one ear pricked in the direction of Gray, Pauz, and Doronbo, who appeared to be arguing about something in hushed tones and furtive glances —though the latter was only on Pauz's and Doronbo's part—.
As she settled on a barstool between Freed and Bickslow, she idly followed Pauz's and Doronbo's line of sight in hopes of discovering what they were whispering about. It was in the general direction of the stairs that led up to the second floor of the guild hall where the S-class missions were kept. She hoped Gray wasn't trying to convince his team to steal an S-class mission. Gray was impulsive, especially at his current age, but even he didn't seem that reck-.
Scarlet.
Like the sunset that made sailors wary. Like blood spilling fresh from her hands. Like a fox's coat and the colors of leaves at the very height of autumn, right before winter frost stole all the colors away. It was the most vivid, beautiful shade of red that Wren had ever seen and she knew even before she saw its owner that it could only belong to one person.
Erza Scarlet, the future Titania and Queen of Fairies, S-Class mage and leader of Team Natsu, sat at the smallest, most out of the way table in the entire guild hall, chewing quietly on a loaf of bread, shoulders hunched as if she was trying to remain unnoticed despite her bright red hair.