The Guild is gone.

Laxus had known the moment that he'd seen the cloud what the target had been, and maybe Freed was right to say that you knew when something precious was gone because the certainty that had pierced him had been like a knife to the chest. I promised to bring him home, is his first conscious thought beyond getting back to the Guild, in the hopes of finding something, or someone left behind, and somehow that hurts worse. Steals his breath and makes speaking impossible. Not that there is anything to say as they make their way back towards Magnolia, the silence between filled with unspeakable words, emotions that none of them is ready to put into words yet.

Gramps. Freed.

He felt torn in two, in a way that he hadn't in a long time, his heart twisting and threatening to splinter in completely separate ways at the thought of them. Of Makarov, fighting the urge to ask him to stay and help them, and instead giving him his blessing to go after Freed, to be selfish, who had been there, readying to fight a war against those who had hurt their family. And of Freed, who had looked at him with such relief the moment before the runes had teleported them to safety, and who was out there waiting for him to come for him. He might have lost both of them, because he hadn't been there, because he wasn't strong enough, and it feels as though all his words, his growth, has been for nothing, helplessness threatening to consume him. There's anger too though, the kind of fury that can kindle a storm that can wash away everything, and he's willing to let it, as soon as he knows…

The Guild is here.

Freed thinks that he should feel relieved, a burst of hope or something, because if Fairy Tail is here then Laxus, Ever and Bickslow can't be far behind. Instead, that thought terrifies him. If that is what he is even feeling, and he's not sure anymore, about anything. Nothing is his anymore. His body moves and laughs and talks, stalking strange hallways, claiming kinship with these Demons, and there is nothing he can do to stop that. He feels like he's beaten himself bloody, trying to claw his way out of the darkness, out the chains that aren't chains that flow over his skin, a constant burn that sears his body and locks him inside. His thoughts aren't even his, not really, every single one his heard, read, and mocked by the Demon who walks freely in his skin, stronger than ever.

Forever…

If he has already lost all of that, then who is to say what he is feeling anymore? Because, even as his heart flutters, warms and turns cold with dread at the thought of Laxus and the others rushing to help him, charging straight into the path of the monster he has become, there is a vicious glee rising in his chest. It's the Demon. It's him, it's not me, he tries to tell himself, but it's as weak and pointless as every other reassurance that he's tried to give himself since this nightmare began. Since he found himself dragged into hell, or rather since the Demon had walked them directly in through the front gates. Because he's not sure, there's a him anymore. He can't deny that there's a Demon, can't do anything other than accept it as their attention is riveted on the view of Fairy Tail as the Guild is released from what he recognises as Cana's cards, charging towards Tartaros' base, running straight into the teeth of hell. And he knows that he will be expected to bite.

That he will bite because the Demon is hungry for destruction and angry.

"They're not here…" He feels himself say and feels sick at the fury in that growl, the longing, and his heart sinks as he realises that the Demon had felt his hope and his terror. That even now, when Freed is trapped, and falling apart at the seams, it wants to break him completely, and that it knows the one way to that. Don't touch them, he snarls with every bit of emotion and strength that he thinks he can claim as his own, and pays for it as the chains tighter, purple light flaring for a moment as he finds himself silenced even here in his own mind.

"I told you they wouldn't survive." It's the Demon that had attacked them – Tempester – he had been introduced as once Freed had been christened as the tenth gate. He's different now, his form changed and again Freed is reminded of glass walls, and greyish-green liquid turning dark around him. What did they do to us? There's no answer, not that he had expected one, and he's not even sure the Demon can hear him at the moment. He stares at Tempester, tries not to think about what he'd just said, the certainty in his voice even though Freed can vaguely remember them mentioning that his memory was debatable. Or maybe, that had been Freed's imagination trying to through him a lifeline, because even though he has a vague memory of Laxus and the others disappearing, he doesn't know, not for sure. Please… He doesn't want to believe, won't believe until he has irrevocable proof in front of him, because he has always thought that he would know if something had happened to the others, especially Laxus, and part of him. A piece that he believes he can still claim as his own, as it hurts in a way that is all too human, knows that Laxus is still out there, still looking for him…

"You did," the Demon acknowledges. "But, this one says differently…" It taps their chest with clawed fingers, unflinching at the pain, even as Freed feels the burn of skin breaking, the warmth of blood against chilled skin, and there's a pause. It's waiting, just half a beat, and belatedly Freed realises it's a test to see if he will fight back, if he can do anything against what is being done to him, to his body. Don't you trust them? He wants to ask, but he's still silenced, and all he can do is file that thought away, wondering if he's stumbled on a crack in its defences, although there's nothing he can do about it yet, not when even his thoughts are trapped and locked inside. All he can do is exist, caught in the Demon's regard for a moment longer, before feeling his lips pulled into a triumphant smirk. "He believes they're alive, and I am inclined to agree."

"I said…"

"Enough." It's the woman who had proclaimed his fate, her voice sharp and Freed wonders if the Demon has just overstepped its mark, after all, they are still new, untested. "They are not to be allowed to interfere with our plan or Face," she's not looking at him, but at Seilah – the apparent architect of the current situation – who looks as strained as Freed feels. But he knows that she's not an ally, which is confirmed when her expression turns almost vicious as she nods.

"Yes, Kyoko-sama…"

Kyoko turns back to him, judging him for a moment. "If they appear, they are yours as agreed, until then, prove that you are worthy of Tartaros." A deal with the devil, Freed thinks. Wishing that he knew what exactly the Demon had agreed to do, and for what, because it had never wanted to work with anyone before. Then again, beside Mira, it had never encountered anything or anyone resembling a Demon. Mira… Mira had been there, he remembers, and he feels sick all over again at the thought of her enduring anything like this. Had she been chained to? Would she be? But there's nothing he can do for her when he's not even free to think for himself. When the Demon is bowing, almost respectful of the woman in front of him, and all Freed can do is lurk as a silent spectator in his own mind.

Laxus, Ever, Bickslow…if you're alive…stay away…

Fairy Tail wasn't just gone. It had been obliterated. When they'd finally hit the outskirts of Magnolia, it had been to find the entire town encased in chaos. Civilians trying to get as far away from the scene of destruction as those mages who weren't attached to the Guild, and the guards tried to deal with debris and other damage that spread out from the epicentre of the blast.

A crater marked the spot, and Laxus faltered at its edge.

Gramps.

He couldn't see how anyone could have survived such complete and utter destruction, with not even a single wall left standing. It was hard to comprehend that he building that he had stood in not long ago, the place he had come to call home all over again was just gone…even harder to understand, was the idea that the Guild was gone, not the building, but the people. Friends. Family. Gramps. And his knees threaten to give out when his eyes fall on the scorched and tattered remnant of the guild flag caught in the breeze, as it flapped, trapped beneath debris.

"How did this happen?" Bickslow asked.

What does that matter? Laxus wanted to ask, came within an inch of shouting it at the other man before pausing, because how had it happened? The Guild had been braced for an attack, preparing themselves for war. They had been alert, searching for any sign of incoming enemies after Laxus and the others had been attacked so close to home, and aware of the fact that Tartaros considered Fairy Tail a threat. As much as he sometimes questioned Makarov's seemingly carefree nature, he knew that the old man wouldn't have been caught off guard at such a time. So, how had Tartaros got close enough to do this?"

"And where is everybody? There should at least be…" Bodies… Evergreen couldn't finish what she was saying, and she didn't need to, the word hanging heavy in the air for a moment before Laxus turned, gaze searching, because she's right. The destruction of the Guild is written across the area around them, but there's no sign that anyone was in it when it exploded, and there would be some sign, even if they had been close to the centre of the explosion, and yet there's nothing. As though everyone had just vanished into thin air, and Laxus tries to quell the surge of relief, not wanting to let himself hope until they know for sure.

"Could they have escaped? Or had they…" Bickslow trailed off, falling silent and Laxus turned to look at him, dread clouding the hope that he hadn't been as successful in subduing as he'd hoped, half expecting to see the other man pointing at something. Instead, Bickslow was frozen in place, mouth open, and attention riveted on the sky above, and Laxus immediately twisted to see what he was staring at just as he heard Evergreen whisper.

"What is that?"

The cloud of smoke and dust that had been obscuring the area above the town was slowly clearing, affording them a glimpse of blue skies, and the looming shadow of a peculiar, cube-shaped island floating slowly, steadily towards Magnolia.

"Tartaros," Laxus breathed. He could not see too much from where they were, but as he heard more alarmed shouts spreading through the town as other people noticed the approaching island, he knew without a doubt that this was Tartaros. It explained why they hadn't had any information on their base of operations. Why even though the other guilds in the Balam Alliance had been located, brought to heel or destroyed, not even the Council had been able to work out how to find the third part of the Alliance. It was an ingenious plan. After all, who would think to look for the depths of hell in the sky above their heads?

And Freed is there.

He knew it, refusing to listen to even the slightest whisper of doubt, and he took a step forward, only to pause as up above there was a flash against the rock of the Cube and his eyes widened. At this distance, it was hard to make out, but he recognised that light, could practically feel the warmth of the protective wrath that would be fuelling it. "Gramps…"

"You think they…?" Bickslow gestured, and Laxus grinned. It wasn't a pleasant grin, but one that promised chaos and retribution.

"I believe," and he stressed the second word, meeting their gazes. "That Tartaros tried to spring a trap but missed their mark." He feels almost giddy with hope at that moment, because if he's right – and he can't be wrong, because that isn't worth thinking about – then both parts of his family are up there, fighting, and waiting for him. Tartaros had made a mistake. It doesn't outweigh their other victories, the destruction of the Council, their attack on him and the others, and whatever they had done to get Freed in their grasp, but it's a mistake, and Laxus knew better than anyone that where there was one mistake, there would be others. There are more flashes of light from above, and Laxus is moving, unable to stand by while the Guild is fighting above them, reaching for Bickslow and Evergreen, even as the latter started to ask.

"How are we getting up there? We could…" He doesn't take the time to answer, making sure that he has a firm hold on both of them, eyes locked on the island above. Freed. Gramps, he thinks as the sky above him darks, storm clouds rushing in with unnatural speed, and when he hears the first distant rumble of thunder, he sprang skywards, lightning crackling around him.

We're coming.

Stop this! Stop this! Freed was pleading, beginning, willing to supplicate himself on his knees if it would make the Demon listen to him for just a moment, as he caught another glimpse of a familiar face, before he lashed out, dark claws raking skin. Blood rising under his assault and twisting into something more as the Demon's power flared. The same writing that was a corruption of Freed's own runes spreading across the unfortunate mage's chest, glowing fiercely until it sank deep within the skin and the air was flooded with an agonised scream as his victim writhed.

Please stop!

The Demon laughed and Freed could feel its pleasure as though it was his own. It was revelling in his pain, in the lump of guilt that had risen in his throat. At the self-loathing that tore at him, in the same way, spectral chains so similar to the ones binding him in his own body lashed at the other mage. It wanted more, Freed could feel it, a hunger that couldn't be satiated, and there were tears on his cheeks as he felt it moving as the mage fell still and silent behind him. Stalking forward into the battle, darkness rising around them, as it wove a web of runes around them.

Stop!

Freed flung himself at the barrier holding him in his own mind, at the chains binding him in place. It was a futile attack; he knew that even as he moved. He had no magic, no weapon that he could use, even if he could exploit the cracks in the Demon's position within Tartaros, but he had to do something, no matter how futile, because he could hear people crying out around him. Voices that he knew, even if he couldn't put a name to them right now, catching fleeting glimpses of faces that he knew twisted in fear and dawning horror as they saw him. It's not me, he wanted to scream, but he didn't have a voice. Knowing they wouldn't believe him. How could they when he looked like this with the Demon smirking, and triumphant even as the first few stumbled into the web of pain and destruction it had woven around them. Seemingly uncaring that there were some of the Tartaros foot soldiers caught in it too, and then Freed felt something wrap around him too. Finding himself jerking to a halt, unable to move another step, and he had a moment to realise that the darkness had hidden the web that had been woven around him in turn.

Share their pain, human, the Demon whispered, its voice filling the space around him until he felt as though the words were vibrating through every inch of his body. Know what it is you are inflicting on them.

The pain hit then, and it was worse than anything Freed had ever experienced, and it was everything. He was screaming, writhing in the confines of his own mind, as the web tightened around him, wrapping him in a cocoon of agony. It was fire and ice and lightning. A thousand knives sinking into his body in an instance and setting nerves alight with a pain that threatened to undo it all. Worse though was the screams and shouts that echoed around him, friends and foe alike caught in the Demon's cruel grasp, in his grasp, because it was his name that was being shouted, fear and confused fury in their voices and Freed felt some last bastion of himself crumble beneath the weight of it all.

It's not me…

It's not…

Somewhere above him, he thought that he heard thunder rumble and a traitorous part of his heart leapt in his chest, but it wasn't enough, and he was sinking. Slinking away into the sanctuary of oblivion even as lightning arched across the sky.

…I'm sorry.

Fairy Tail was fighting.

Laxus hadn't truly dared to let himself believe it until the island – if that was even what it was – loomed massive in the air above them. Drawing closer by the second as he poured as much magic as he dared into propelling the three of them towards it, aware of the fight to come. Now they could make out the fighting that was spreading across the surface. Distorted he realised, stomach lurching as he realised that there was some gravity magic at play as his mind tried to tell him that fighting mages and armoured – what he guessed were Tartaros forces, appeared to be fighting upside down without hindrance. Alive, they were alive, he thought, eyes searching for a glimpse of Makarov or a flash of green, desperate and worried in equal measure, particularly with thought of Freed, because he wanted to find him, but not here.

Not fighting against the Guild.

It was chaos, and the speed at which they were moving through the storm that had gathered around him, meant that he could barely make sense of what he was seeing. Hold on, we're coming, he thought instead, tightening his grip on Evergreen and Bickslow highly aware of the drop beneath them, and even though they had their own ways of catching themselves, he didn't want to risk it. Now, he could feel the first tugs of whatever gravity had been attached to the Cube, feeling it threatening to pull him off course.

"This is going to be a rough landing!" He shouted, hoping that the other two could hear him as he pushed himself harder, just as he felt Evergreen tense against him, grateful for his sharpened hearing as he caught the sharp intake of breath followed by a pained.

"Freed…"

There was a roaring sound in his ears that had nothing to do with his magic or the rumble of thunder, and everything to do with the complicated rush of hope and dread that flooded him, as he looked up, barely holding out against the pull of the gravity. It took him precious seconds to see him, the flash of green and purple a familiar sight, and his breath caught.

Freed…