It was too quiet. The air was thick with tension, and Sting paced uncomfortably. Makarov had ordered Fairy Tail to remain in the centre plaza while the rest of the guild spread out through the city and evacuated the townspeople, and now everyone was waiting nervously for news from the castle. It had been several hours, and nothing had happened yet.
"I'm not sure that moon is a good omen," Sting heard Freed say quietly. He glanced up at the blood-red sphere, unable to suppress the shiver that ran down his back. Prickles ran up and down his arms and he restrained himself from scratching at them.
Rogue sat on the ground next to the fountain, letting Porlyusica push a new round of healing magic through him. Sting chewed his lip. As much as he was excited to put their dragon-slaying powers to the test, he worried about Rogue. That blast to the chest had been a serious wound, and Sting still felt guilty about it. It was hard to believe that only twenty-four hours had passed since he had killed Jiemma.
He had KILLED Jiemma. It hadn't had time to sink in yet – so far he'd managed to keep the thoughts and memories at bay, but standing here like this, just waiting, brought everything to the surface. He felt his stomach heaving and considered going somewhere private to throw up.
"So, have you actually killed a dragon before?" Sting started, turning to see Gray leaning against the wall nearby and giving him an odd look. He had obviously recovered from walking in on them earlier. "I mean, Natsu and Gajeel and Wendy were raised by dragons, but they never killed one before. Doesn't that give you an edge?"
Sting dropped his gaze to the ground, rubbing his temples. The lie he had told for so many years was finally catching up to him.
"It's…not quite like that," he admitted.
"Sting, please." The giant dragon loomed over the young boy who stared up with tears in his eyes. "You have to end my life."
"I can't do that," young Sting sobbed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Please, don't make me."
"A dragon slayer's magic grows stronger once they have bathed in a dragon's blood." Weisslogia's voice was deep but gentle, and he reached out a massive claw toward the crying boy. Sting flung himself toward the dragon, pressing himself into the cold scales and sniffling.
"NO!" He shouted, shaking his head. "I'm not gonna do it!"
"Sting, you must," Weisslogia said softly. "You must prove you have mastered the skills I have taught you…"
The memory faded and Sting shook his head, feeling a deep ache in his chest. He was about to answer when he heard Rogue's voice.
"They were sick," he said softly. "We merely helped end their suffering." Sting thanked Rogue with a silent gesture, and the shadow slayer smiled at him fondly.
"Juvia is sorry for you." The water mage, never far from Gray, looked at Sting with wide blue eyes. "Losing someone loved is never easy." Sting gave her a half-smile, touched by her concern, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. His skin still crawled and he tapped his fingers restlessly against his palm.
He took a deep breath and paced away again, this time moving farther from the group. His heart was pounding, and he couldn't figure out why. So much was going through his head, and he felt like he was going to explode. Looking back at the group, he felt a pang of something he couldn't identify. Sorrow? Jealousy? Fear? Why couldn't he identify the emotion?
Spinning on his heel toward the garden, he moved farther into the maze of hedges. He could feel his chest tightening, and he shuddered as his pulse continued to race. He stared up at the moon, transfixed by the color. Red. Blood red. A shock went through his body and he glanced down at his hands, somehow expecting them to be covered in Rogue's blood again. But that was yesterday. What was happening to him?
Sting rubbed his hands together, startled to find that they were tingling. He reached out to touch the hedge leaves and they were solid under his fingers, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't really there. What the hell was going on? He shook his head, trying to clear out the strange feeling, but it wouldn't go away. Everything was fuzzy. The ground under him seemed to sway and he stumbled backward, tripping and falling into someone.
"Hey, you okay?" The person in front of him was familiar, somehow, but Sting couldn't place them. He shook his head, staring again at his hands. Why didn't they feel real? Why didn't he feel real?
"Sting." The figure in front of him crouched down – when had he fallen? "Sting, look at me." Trying to calm his breathing, Sting listened to the voice. Blonde hair. Tall. Scar through his eye. Why couldn't he remember? "Sting, it's Laxus. I'm gonna touch your arm, okay?" When Sting didn't respond, Laxus repeated the question and was rewarded with a shaky nod.
Laxus reached out and grasped the frightened boy, knowing Sting would flinch and keeping his touch light and gentle. Sting shuddered, breathing heavily, and Laxus moved to sit next to him on the pathway.
"What can you see around you?" Laxus asked softly, squeezing Sting's arm. "Tell me what you see."
Sting took a deep breath, looking around him desperately.
"Flowers," he gasped. Laxus nodded. "Uh, the moon. It's red." Another nod. "Grass…rocks…the fountain…" Each thing he named brought his heart rate down, and slowed his breathing a bit.
"Good. Now what can you hear?" Sting swallowed, then closed his eyes and listened.
"People talking," he said shakily. "Cana seems…to be challenging someone to a drinking contest." Laxus snorted. "Wind. Your heartbeat." Sting opened his eyes, then ran a hand over his face. The pounding in his chest had stopped, and he was able to breathe normally again. "What…what the hell happened?"
"You're alright, you just freaked out a bit." Laxus replied, leaning back to look at him.
"I didn't feel…real…" Sting said quietly, and Laxus nodded.
"I know. That's why you gotta focus on what IS real. What you see, what you smell, y'know." He looked slightly embarrassed to be discussing this.
"How do you-"
"Have you met my dad?" Laxus grumbled, not meeting Sting's gaze. Sting recalled the fight between Ivan and Laxus, how the man had been willing to kill his own son. He nodded in understanding.
"Thank you," he said quietly. Laxus shrugged.
"You good?" Sting nodded and Laxus rose to his feet, reaching out a hand to Sting and helping the younger dragon slayer to his feet. Sting felt slightly light-headed, but thankfully the rest of the world seemed solid.
Suddenly, a roar tore through the air, and both men clapped their hands over their ears, staring at each other in disbelief. It shook the ground around them, and Sting could feel his jaw shaking from the sound. When it was quiet again, they sprinted back to the group.
"Rogue!" Sting dropped down on one knee beside the shadow slayer, who was looking toward the castle with wide eyes.
"Sting, was that a-"
A second roar split the air, followed by terrified screaming. An enormous crash came from the direction of the palace, and Sting could see a line of destruction plough through the city. Buildings crumbled, and giant pieces of rock and rubble flew through the air.
"Where did that blast come from?" Erza leaped onto the fountain, still heavily bandaged, and surveyed the scene. The entire guild erupted into a clamor, and Sting had to shout to be heard above the din.
"THEY'RE HERE!" His voice was hoarse, but Erza heard him and nodded in acknowledgement. The ground began to shake rhythmically, and Sting grabbed onto Rogue's shoulder for stability. In the distance, he could see an enormous, flaming something moving out from the gate. "Why are they coming from the gate?"
"Everyone, spread out!" Makarov's voice broke out over the din and the guild immediately turned to him. "If we bunch together we risk being wiped out all at once!" Everyone began to move away from the centre of the square, staggering as the ground shuddered and covering their ears at the intermittent roars.
Sting pulled Rogue to his feet and grasped his hand tightly, following Gray and Juvia. He could hear crashing and bellowing behind them, and a deep, primal fear lit in the center of his stomach. What if they couldn't do this? What if they couldn't defeat the dragons? His gaze flicked over to Rogue, whose face was set in determination. Sting felt some of the fear abate – he had Rogue by his side, and everything would be all right.