Fairy x Adventure

by Magnafeana

In a new era after the Alvarez War, Lucy, Natsu, and the rest of Fairy Tail not only face new challenges but watch as their kids go on new journeys, learn new powers, and battle new enemies and old! Join Luna, Nashi, and the upcoming generation of Mages on Fairy Tail and more on their never-ending adventure!

144. Adventure 144

Disclaimer: I do not own Hiro Mashima's Fairy Tail, any work professionally associated with it, nor any pop culture or classical references. All original plots and characters are mine.

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In a land far, far away lies the kingdom of Fiore, a small, peaceful nation of 17 million, and a place filled with Magic found in every home, bought and sold in every marketplace. For most, Magic is merely a tool, a mundane part of everyday life. For some, however, Magic is an art, and they've devoted their lives to its practice. These are the wizards. Banded together into magical guilds, they ply their skills in search of fame and fortune. Many such guilds dot the landscape of Fiore. But there is a certain guild in a certain town that soars high above the rest, one from which countless legends have been born. A guild that will no doubt continue to create legends well into the future. Its name...is Fairy Tail.

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LAST TIME, on Fairy Adventure: Gale met two strangers from Gajeel's past, but the question boiled down to: who exactly was his father to these strangers? Julia followed Chunhua and Dylan to discover their role to play, but imagine the shock to learn not only are they working with Prince Zayed, but Chunhua is a Warlock and allows a Demon to constantly possess her body. Vinyl had to go it alone for her next event, but between discovering Key's inner song and the truth behind Vespers' entanglement with Salentino, it proved to be worth it. But when she learned not only was this all connected to Shamballa, but Thirteen's part to play it in, things aren't looking that great for our heroes.

'How I've missed you so much…my precious Luna.'

Somehow, Shamballa is running a contest for who can be the worst of the worst. And it seems like we have a lot of people tying for first place…

---

Chibi-Nashi appears with a grin and a wave. "Hi, everyone! Ready for more Fairy Adventure? To keep your eyes safe, make sure you read with at least one light on in a low setting! And here is the updated time zone table!"

Abbreviations – Time Zone Name • — • — •— • — Location • — Offset

MCDT • — • — Melandian Central Daylight Time – Melandia • — • UTC +7

CST • — • — • – Cipangu Standard Time • — • — • — Cipangu • — • – UTC +5

SST • — • — • – Sīchóu Standard Time • — • — • — Zhōnguá • — • – UTC +3

CIT • — • — • – Central Ishgaran Time • — • — • — Bellum • — • – UTC +2

CMT • — • — • – Charring Mean Time • — • — • — Minstrel • — • – UTC +1

FST • — • – Fiore Standard Time • — • — • — • Fiore • — • — • – UTC - 0:00

WIT • — • – Western Ishgaran Time • — • — • — • Caelum • — • – UTC - 0:00

ACT • — • — Arcticados Central Time • — • — • – Arcticados • — • — UTC – 1

CAST • — • — • — • — Caracole-Alicanto Standard Time – Fiore • — • UTC – 1

ADT • — • — • – Alvarez Daylight Time • — • — • – Alvarez • — • — UTC – 2

SST • — • — Shamballa Standard Time • — • — Shamballa • — • — UTC – 2

EAT • — • — • – East Andüsa Time • — • — • – Andüsa • — • — • — UTC – 2

AT • — • — • – Amazone Time • — • — • — • — • — Valchestria • — UTC - 4

EST • — • — • – Eastern Standard Time • — • — • – Meidiland • — • UTC - 6

Chibi-Nashi holds up a finger. "On a serious note—this episode will contain pedophilia and sexual assault and rape. Please remember, this disturbing content is not something the author condones. There will be an X and a Y for the start and end of all explicit scenes, so please read with what you are comfortable with. Even the author had a hard time reading her own writing, so don't be afraid to skip!"

She winks with a thumbs up. "See you at the end of the episode!"

---

Joining Dylan for his associate breakfasts felt mechanical.

Chunhua contributed nothing as all these people in custom-made clothes jested about some crude industry rumor. She had been given a perfect rice bowl with two eggs, chicken, and steamed vegetables, but nothing about her breakfast looked appealing to her. The more she looked at her food, the more it looked more and more nauseating. She somehow could feel every grain of rice sticking to her throat to make her joke. The bland smell of eggs was more potent and putrid, rotten to the core. The chicken mocked her with its rigid and fried texture making her skin prickle—

"Chunhua."

She kept her composure as she looked at Dylan. "Yes?"

He nodded over to his associate. "She was asking you about your schooling and plans."

"Oh." Chunhua smiled. "My apologies. I must've been lost in thought. What was your question?"

As she listened to the question and repeated a perfect response, the mogwai mocked her with a snarky laugh, Poor girl. Questions about your future. But you see… Why not tell them you have no future? Because everything you once had is mine to control.

"Chunhua."

She blinked at Dylan's snap and saw the hidden judgment he shielded behind his smile.

He laughed to the others, "You'll have to excuse her. She's one of those artistic types with her head always in the clouds." He patted Chunhua's shoulder. "Why don't you go take a break, Chunhua?" And he smiled as he said, "把你的东西整理好，否则就去集中营了."

Chunhua could feel her palms sweat beneath her gloves, but she smiled back. "是的，哥哥."

She got up and whatever witty quip her older brother said to get the table howling fell on deaf hers. Everything was too loud. She could hear the squeaks from the loafers the servers had to wear. Some woman threw back her head and laughed at a joke. A child was munching too loudly on his hash.

Everything was too loud.

A choice had to be made between the women's restroom or the unisex, and she chose the latter for the solitude. After locking herself in, she fell against the door and took deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. With her breathing a little more even, she staggered over to the sink, turned on the faucet, and took off her gloves.

Those sigils sneered at her.

"What's gotten you so rattled, baobei?"

Chunhua thought she would see her reflection, but instead, she saw the mogwai as her reflection. From a distance, they looked like twins, but up close, they were different. The mogwai took advantage of her feminine charm. Chunhua's age was not a factor for a mogwai. And her steely-gray eyes offered some sort of allure that no one could look away from, such rare eyes.

Chunhua let out a shaky breath and looked away as she pumped soap into her hand and started scrubbing.

Mara the mogwai sniggered at Chunhua's handwashing. "This again?" She folded her arms beneath her chest. "You carved those sigils with your own blood and knife, little girl. They'll never come off. Think about chopping your hands and I'll permanently claim your body. You have no one to blame but yourself."

Chunhua scrubbed harder.

Mara tsked. "You humans are always so quick to blame us otherkind for your actions of greed," she sighed, flipping her hair. She watched, amused, as Chunhua frantically washed her palms. "From what I recall, Dylan had the guts to steal me from Immortal Yang's vault. But you were the one who was so eager for me to help you. Just a pathetic little human girl bitching about how she needed power and here I am." She sneered, "I did you a favor."

Chunhua screamed, "闭嘴！" She hit the mirror repeatedly as she kept shrieking, "闭嘴！闭嘴！闭嘴！" Tears and grief choked her as she hit the mirror again before crackling out a sob. She backed away only to crumble onto the ground with the running water doing a horrid job to cover her high-pitched inhale and dry cries. Her hair stayed in her traditional bun with her hair sticks, but her bangs curtained her face, frazzled. "你对我做了这件事。你…这是对我做的。"

"Oh, did I?"

Chunhua, trembling, looked up—

The mogwai leaned over her, steely-grays riveted and frown neutral. "Humans are so quick to blame the otherkind for their failings. You sound the same as my prey. They cursed me for luring them away and fucking me until they shivered and came inside me. But what did I do wrong? Their hearts were already black. If they had stronger ties to their Chosens, they wouldn't have fucked me and let me eat their hearts, now would they?"

Chunhua sucked in a breath to putter out a whisper, "You're pure evil.

"And yet you are the only human I can comfortably share a body with." Mara's lips curled to show her teeth—her true teeth, sharp teeth jagged and bloodstained. "What does that say about you?"

Chunhua could only choke out sounds, but her wide eyes looked down in such honest agony. She ended up whispering, "You can't kill the son of Báihǔ. I know the legends. I know the rumors. He's the most powerful Cultivator in Zhōnguánese history. Báihǔ would kill us both for trying to kill his son."

Mara stood up to laugh. "Oh, the fear in your eyes makes me forget I'm talking to such an incompetent baby!" She smiled down at Chunhua. "You think I want to die that easily?" She suddenly crouched like a predator coiling to spring her prey, but one clawed nail tapped Chunhua's chin. "I have no intentions of killing that Cultivator. He has the Silver Butterfly Ghost King and the Red Lipped Beauty Ghost King on his side, not to mention the generals. Even without that damn kitty-cat fathering him, killing him would kill me."

Chunhua tried and failed to swallow. "S-So why—? Ack!"

Mara grabbed Chunhua's throat, cold eyes watching as Chunhua gagged and thrashed to get that hand off her neck. "You ask too many questions for someone who may lose their body to me." She threw Chunhua away.

Chunhua gulped in air, panting.

Mara flipped her hair, not a lock out of place. "Look at my eyes, girl."

Chunhua coughed and sniffed before looking up—

Darkness clashed with steely-gray.

"Mogwais can paint their skin to look like the most attractive person alive to our prey," Mara said with a hiss, her voice becoming more and more twisted and demonic. "But most of those Cultivator scum and ignorant humans never realized we have a second ability. Our eye color is the same as our prey's Chosen's. Maybe it's a crush they previously had. Maybe it's someone they'll meet in the future. Our eyes never deceive us. And my eyes have stayed this color since my prey is the son of Báihǔ."

As Chunhua tried to recover, she patched together all the words the mogwai never said. It's…been that same shade of gray for 800 years? So then… That means—

"You catch on quick, girl. I can't kill a Cultivator with that power. And as I said before." Mara's grin broadened. "His Chosen is all I need. I will make him suffer one thousand times over by making sure the Chosen he so desperately covets could never love him again." She pressed a claw onto Chunhua's forehead. "And you'll help me like the good, greedy girl you are. You'll be there to look into the eyes of the son of Báihǔ as he begs us to give him back his Chosen. He'll know your face, Bei Chunhua. He'll remember you were responsible for this Curse all because you were a scared little girl who wanted power."

Chunhua grew paler as the mogwai leaned forward. "Aren't – you – lucky?"

ZAA-ZAA…

The water kept running.

And Chunhua was alone.

Maybe she had been alone this whole time. Maybe seeing the mogwai was a bad dream. But when she looked at her hands, those sigils embedded into her skin, sealed with blood, still existed.

She got up from the floor and smoothened out her dress before clicking her heels over to the sink.

The water kept running.

She pumped for more soap.

And she scrubbed.

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

"Ame no youna kaze no youna

Dareka no koto jama suru youna

Hito ni nante naritaku wanai kara?

Hare no youna hikari no youna

Dareka no koto teraseru youna

Hito ni naritai!"

nante itai tte dareka no koe ga?

Kikoetara nanda

Nagutte kowashite sayonara DILEMMA!

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

Keeping her head down was one of Fatimah's specialties, especially when being demure let her listen to the maids' gossip. She traveled down the halls with a loose headscarf on today and her hair shown, but no one paid her any mind or sent her a disapproving glance. They all ignored her as they whispered to each other, hungry for news.

Looks like something exciting is happening in the palace today, Fatimah sighed. And if the maids are gossiping, it could be about another friend Zayed brought home. The servants always stir when he brings another 'friend'. She was about to round the corner—

"Ma'am says she could be pregnant for sure this time!"

Fatimah's eyes widened, and she hid behind the wall as she heard her mothertongue. Did she say 'pregnant'?

A group of servants—three young women and a young man—flocked together down the corridor. One maid excitedly gossiped, "She said Her Majesty has been getting more sensitive to foods and reported to the royal physicians she's a lot more tender."

"And Prince Zayed's been so concerned," another maid dreamily sighed. "He knows Her Majesty is trying to be discrete about her pregnancy, so he asked Ma'am to schedule for his personal physician to end to her and he'll pay for it himself! Isn't he amazing?"

The third maid told the group, hushed, "I heard he even offered to look after Her Majesty himself! He's excited about having another sibling—oh, he's just so dreamy! My mother would melt having a son like him around instead of my worthless brother." Her voice grew louder, thrilled. "I can't believe Her Majesty is pregna—!"

"Shh!" The young man of the group quickly shushed her as they passed the corridor entrance. He hissed, "Not so loud! Sir and Ma'am told everyone to keep it a secret since Her Majesty and Prince Zayed want this handled intimately, remember?" But even so, he launched into his own gossip. "We have bets going around about names for the baby…"

Fatimah knew the heat in Shamballa could melt the spots off a dog, but she had never felt colder. Inayah… Her fingers trembled. She's pregnant with Zayed's…?

She ran.

She did not care about the ugly looks hitting her from all sides from maids and guards; she had to sprint. Panic burned her throat and fear snapped at her heels, egging her to go faster. No… No, she can't be… This has to be gossip. She can't be pregnant with that monster's baby, please!

Getting to Her Majesty's apartments came with its own challenges, but when the guards to the grandiose doors straightened up seeing her, she snarled at them, "I am the princess of Shamballa, and I know for a fact Her Majesty has given me permission to her chambers. Let me through."

The guards did not move.

Fatimah knew she should not be reckless, but she seethed, "You dare defy a direct order from your princess? Let – me – through."

But the doors opened on their own accord.

Sooraya stepped out with "Ma'am", the head housekeeper of the estate. She glanced at her niece before saying quick words to the head housekeeper and sending her on her way. Then Sooraya looked gravelly at Fatimah and held out her hand. "Come, dear girl. She'll want to see you." And she flashed her eyes to the guards as if daring them to try her.

They stood still.

Fatimah took her aunt's hand and let her lead them into Her Majesty's apartments. The moment the doors had closed, Fatimah whispered, "Is it true, Am'mah? Are what the servants saying true—?"

"Fatimah." Sooraya swept her eyes this way and that. "There are eyes everywhere. So watch your words."

Fatimah shut her mouth, but ice bristled along her skin. There are no guards here though, but— She went even colder. The Pasbans… Oh, no…

Inayah's room had its own custom doors. Everyone knew it was customary for the Emir to have grandeur doors custom-made to his new Emira to make her feel like her home was here in his residencies. Sooraya pushed open the door and Fatimah followed—

GE…!

The sound of retching made Fatimah's stomach flip. No.

Fatimah did not care if her aunt had other words of warning. She darted through the bedroom and to the master bathroom. She ignored all the pointless furniture and decorations and swing open the door that led to the toilet—

GE…!

Inayah hurled into the toilet with her veil tossed on the ground alongside a damp towel and her clothes a mess. Sobs came after her retching as she clung to the toilet, violently shaking.

"Yaya…" Fatimah's heart broke as she kneeled beside Inayah to rub her back. "Oh my… What happened to you?" She grabbed the damp towel to blot the sweat off Inayah's face with her eyes screwed up in fat tears.

"She has been nauseous for the better part of this morning," Sooraya relayed with heavy sickness. "Morning sickness."

"N-No," Inayah croaked. She tried to hold up her head, but her strength fled, and Fatimah had to curl the queen into her chest. "I'm not… I'm not…!" She could not push the world past her lips when she broke into another cry.

Heat pressed against Fatimah's eyes as she held Inayah close. Yaya… I'm so sorry. I should've gotten you out of here and away from him sooner. She shakily soothed, "Yaya, it's okay. W-We'll… If you want to abort—"

"I'm not pregnant!" Inayah fiercely denied before breaking into another sob.

Sooraya sighed as she sat on the floor and took over cooling Inayah's face. "She kept telling me she wasn't pregnant yesterday, but… When she was served soup, it took one sniff for her to excuse herself," she told Fatimah. Light browns engaged in heartfelt empathy for the weeping Emira. "I, too, offered to help her abort."

That shocked Fatimah and she knew she did a pisspoor job hiding it. "You did?"

Sooraya laughed with no humor and looked her grandniece in the eyes. "I have experience in something so unwanted." She set aside the towel to bring about the glass of water. To Fatimah's further bewilderment, Sooraya murmured foreign words and Inayah responded by parting her trembling lips and sipping from the offered glass for a second or two before closing her mouth. Sooraya put down the glass and kept dampening Inayah's skin with the cloth.

Fatimah tried to stop reeling from such a statement. Am'mah has…

"I love my husband."

Fatimah looked at her aunt, but Sooraya looked at Inayah like she was tending to her own daughter.

"I truly love him and I know he loves me very dearly," Sooraya told her. "But you can't forget he and I met in the middle of a war. And there has never been a war that wasn't ugly." Light browns did not tinge with grief. She had made peace with her past. "To survive, as a teenager, I had been offered as a gift to the terrorists in exchange for my family to stay safe. I was married." She looked at Fatimah. "I was pregnant."

Fatimah's throat went dry.

Sooraya looked back at Inayah. "It's more common than you think for this to happen to women of war. We're not the ones you remember in your history books. We're the ones your history tells were at home, waiting for the men to come home. But our bodies were on the line as much as any soldier. And we carried that war in our minds. We might not've seen corpses, but every day, we wished we could be a corpse instead of surviving a nightmare."

"I'm sorry." The words whispered out without Fatimah thinking them.

Sooraya hummed. "There's no need to apologize," she soothed. She fell quiet for five beats. "Mohammed—your uncle—came with a liberation effort. I was in the tail-end of my first trimester when he came." The nostalgia came back, but only the best parts. "We had very little hope for our country to be liberated, but we woke up to Magic and gunfire. My husband at the time dragged me with him. But Mohammed had been the one to stop him. He killed my husband. And I never felt so free."

Fatimah memorized every word.

"My family hadn't survived. They had tried to kill the liberation soldiers, but I couldn't blame them," Sooraya continued. "For so long, they'd been afraid. Our beliefs were constantly under threat, and we were constantly reminded the world didn't care about our suffering. A Wizard for the liberation front assured me their deaths were painless, but I cried because I was so happy they wouldn't have to suffer anymore."

Sooraya paused when Inayah threaded their fingers together even with her eyes closed, but she squeezed the queen's own in return. "After that, it was a blur. Other young women like me had been sacrifices, willing or unwilling, but they weren't all in their sound minds. Some had been killed, too afraid these soldiers were as bad as the terrorists. Others were inconsolable. One killed herself. I was numb and just gave up. I couldn't speak or eat. I just…couldn't keep going. Mohammed personally visited me."

"He did?" Fatimah echoed.

Sooraya nodded. "He told me he heard from the doctor from their outfit I was wasting away. He'd gotten injured flushing out another terrorist site, so he was on bed rest and decided to make sure I was all right and eating. I didn't talk to him. I'd just given up." She chuckled. "Persistent, your uncle. He kept coming to see me and tried to get me to eat and talk. I never responded. He'd read me the news and brought in a Radio Lacrima. But then…" Light browns glinted. "One day…he said something so foolish."

• — • — • — • — •

The bunker smelled like blood, sweat, and tears.

Sooraya sat in the same chair in this tiny room the soldiers provided her in their camp. Metal floors, metal walls, metal door—she was secure, they promised her. It would take an army to get to her. She was safe here.

What did "safe" matter when she felt nothing?

They had offered her scarves for an abaya and half-niqāb—clearly, they were well-versed in what women and some men wore in Ruda—but she stayed naked-faced. She vaguely remembered her deceased husband tricking her with scarves that were enchanted with some sort of spell that made her much more wanton and willing in their marital bed.

She would not be tricked again.

KURRR!

"Good morning, Aisha."

The soldier was back again.

He always called her different names, and she knew he did it to see if she responded. Yesterday, she had been called "Neisha" or "full of life". The day before that, she was "Jamila" or "gorgeous woman." Now today was Aisha—one who is alive.

What an idiot.

He limped into the room and made sure he cracked the door open upon closing it some. He had learned from his mistake when the doctor had come and closed the door. Her hidden knives came out with a vengeance and survive survive survive had taken over her mind. She had nearly cut into the doctor's chest when the soldier barged in and gaped at the mess she had made and the fury in her eyes.

And then he had laughed.

He truly was an idiot.

He spoke Minstrish to the doctor—which made sense since the doctor was this pale, skinny thing with blonde hair and blue eyes—and had said, "She's a strong lady, doc, sorry about that. Let's leave the door open from now on and get you cleaned up."

The bear of a soldier sank into the chair across from her with his arm still in a cast and sling. He had gotten signatures from the other soldiers in his unit, but she had deftly ignored him when he asked her if she wanted to sign. She could not believe someone so dimwitted had saved her.

"All right." The soldiers unloaded his stash of secret goods from his sling. He brought out his Radio Lacrima and clicked it onto a news station that reported more and more about the atrocities of this holy war. "So, my captain wasn't happy with me for putting this as a priority and it's coming out of my pay, but…" He pulled out a small rectangular box and grinned. "I think I got you something you'll have to eat." He presented her with the box.

She ignored it.

The soldier did not let her silence get him down. He made a show of opening the box and had the smile of a proud child. "Ta-da! For you, my lady, I come bearing Ruda's national treasure—qumbe." The balled coconut candy looked a bit crudely done but still in good and sweet condition. "Or, at least, that's what I was told. I know it's an Andüsan thing your countries on the eastern border and all, so, ta-da! For you—to eat," he added.

She ignored it.

The soldier shrugged. "More for me." He popped in a coconut candy and made an exaggerated moan. "Ah, this tastes so good! Like little slices of Jannah! So delicious!" He peeked an eye at her.

She said nothing.

The soldier helped himself to another and kicked back to listen to the radio station.

She closed her eyes and prepared to doze off—

"Oh, wow, looks like the terrorists sent a child bomber to your president," the soldier offhandedly remarked in response to the news. "And your president was stupid enough to let the child in because she kept insisting your bogus god Ruda would actually protect her." He snorted. "What utter bullshit. Your god left you all to die here—"

SHIN!

He stopped talking.

A knife was at his throat.

"I dare you." She looked at him in pure animosity as she pressed her blade further into his skin, close enough to make him bleed. "Say that again."

The soldier blinked at her before a slow smile came onto his lips. "You talked."

• — • — • — • — •

"I didn't even realize I had felt something until then," Sooraya narrated. "He had said those words to get me to feel before I forgot how to. And after he told me that, I just…broke down. I felt like I cried in his arms for hours. The terrorists had no patience for tears. They earned you bruises until you stopped crying. But he just let me cry out everything I had. And he promised he would help me."

She set down the towel to palm her barren stomach. "Starting with this. He asked me if I had wanted to keep it and told me the liberation front had been offering all women the chance to abort or have care. I…couldn't raise a child that had the same blood as that monster. So he was with me for the procedure and afterward. Then, he got better to go back into the fight, and I was psychologically cleared to move with the others to a refugee camp. I didn't see him for a long time after that."

Fatimah tentatively asked, "When did you meet again?"

"In university," Sooraya recalled. "I had started over in a new country with distant relatives who were unsure how to treat me. My scars were too deep for them to want to love me, but they made sure I had an education. My university was hosting royalty from Shamballa." Her lips quirked. "Imagine my surprise that soldier was Shamballan royalty."

Fatimah faintly smiled. "I'm sure that was a shock."

"It was." Sooraya's look grew fond. "I was blindsided and left. I didn't think he had seen me. But I also didn't expect him to make a scene and run after me. I thought your religion didn't adhere to much fanfare, but I guess his generation was much more relaxed and liberal. I wanted nothing to do with him, but he didn't give up. He started writing me letters and when I wouldn't respond, he sent magical bird messengers. I was livid he had come to observe one of my lectures." She shook her head. "Foolish man."

• — • — • — • — •

"So… 'Sooraya', huh?"

Out of the 1,283 buildings on this campus, he had to find the one she was in.

If royalty had handlers and assistants, they were doing a shit job keeping their pampered prince on his leash.

It made her hot under her scarves when students kept glancing up the lecture hall to get a glimpse at royalty. Her languages had sharpened over the years with the native dialect different from her own, but with Stellian, Minstrish, Bellish, and Valchestrian friends, she knew which words meant "attractive", "sexy", and "hot".

She could not understand how anyone could describe the smiling idiot next to her as any of those things.

The solider—the prince, she corrected herself—stretched out like he was the king of the hall before leaning close to her to whisper, "I think that's a pretty name."

She refused to respond and diligently took her notes. She had been lucky her honors courses had gotten her ahead of her form, and now she was taking the 400s classes with most year fours and graduates. This professor did not post his notes anywhere, so she had to be thorough—

"Did you get my letter?"

She gritted her teeth. Before, she enjoyed the comfort of her scarves and it spiritually connected her to Ruda, her god. But now, she was grateful this soldier—prince—beside her was not allowed to see her face or the way she was baring her teeth at him. "Yes."

"She talks!"

She kept jotting down notes and hissed, "And she is in class. This is highly inappropriate and if you wish for me to talk further, I suggest you leave this room, wait until my lecturer is over, and apologize sincerely to me for this abhorrent harassment and unwanted attention."

Silence.

She did not breathe her relief until he had stood up and walked away without any word to her. 'Finally.' Upbeat, she ignored the piercing looks from her class and dove into the world of engineering. 'I'm sure he'll give up. This is a four lecture and doesn't end until eleven. He'll give up by then. He has to.'

• — • — • — • — •

Fatimah snickered. "I know 'Amm Mohammed wouldn't have given up."

"He didn't," Sooraya sighed, amusement shining in her eyes. "But he did apologize for this forwardness. He had told me he had been worried about my health and safety, but he had been recalled from the front lines since the previous Emir had died and an heir-apparent would be crowned. To be honest, I never wanted to see your uncle again and I told him that. He reminded me about when I was nothing more than a terrorist's whore—"

"Am'mah—"

"But." Sooraya held up a hand to silence Fatimah's protests. "He disagreed with me. He told me I reminded him of what he fought hard over." Her hand lowered. "His mother had passed away."

"I remember that story." And Fatimah did. "Father said she had died from depression and suicide."

"Yes," Sooraya murmured. "That's why he had become a soldier in all his recklessness, to stave off his grief. He half-wanted to die on the battlefield to see her again and thought the mission in Ruda would be his last. But when he heard about me… He said I reminded him of his mother." She glanced to the door before looking back at Inayah. "Your uncle's mother had been pregnant when she committed suicide."

That was certainly news to Fatimah, but the shock would not let her speak.

"She had wasted away until she could not handle it. Mohammed knew his mother had been depressed, especially when she gave birth to his younger sister, but she looked up a little when she learned she was pregnant again. Still… It was too soon for her. And she passed away." Sooraya sighed. "He thought he could save me. I was his second chance. And I suppose the rest is history. He promised to go at my pace. My abortion and widowhood were undocumented, so only he and his team knew the truth, but they wouldn't say a thing. And here we are, married and with all of you to take care of now."

She brushed Inayah's cheek. "When Inayah first came here, Mohammed and I had our concerns, especially with her age. But… Mohammed couldn't actively express his concerns. It excited his brothers and sisters since your father seemed much more caring towards her. That's not to say he's a kind person. But even to your mother…"

"I know." Fatimah roamed Inayah's face. "He didn't love her. She was a spoil of political warfare and nothing more. To be honest, I was surprised too how much he's been protective of Yaya."

"But protection can be mistaken as possession," Sooraya said softly. "I told Mohammed your father treated her as an object. He agreed, but… There is only so much we could do. Haya latched onto her to curry your father's favor as the heir. And Zayed—"

Fatimah looked up; brow puckered. "Am'mah?"

Sooraya met her grandniece's eyes and whispered, "I know you care for Inayah, Fatimah. I just needed to see how deeply you did. Mohammed and I stood by because we couldn't do anything for her. But you can."

"Wh-What?" Fatimah did not understand as her aunt moved closer. "What are you—?"

"The luncheon on Friday will be your only chance to leave," Sooraya hurriedly whispered. "Outsiders will be within the palace. The Pasbans have been ordered to keep her safe, but there will be too large of a scene for all of them to ignore. One of them will remain to protect the queen, but you'll have help. You must leave with her into the tunnels running beneath Shamballa."

"What—? How—?" Too much was happening to Fatimah to comprehend. "Am'mah, please—"

"Inayah." Sooraya turned to the queen and spoke in that foreign language again.

Fatimah rapidly blinked. What's going on? She knows about my plan with Yara? But how? My supporter only connected me with Yara, so why—?

Sooraya kissed Inayah's forehead and whispered a few more things before switching back to Shamballan. "She's going to keep displaying pregnancy symptoms. She told me she hasn't menstruated more than a month and a half ago, and she—" A hardness took over her eyes. "She told me who she was with last. And that it's been happening since she came to Shamballa."

Fatimah felt like she was going to be sick.

Sooraya went on: "I have been trying to maintain my composure around him, but I've told Mohammed I can feel something dark clinging to him, something addictive and heavy. If she says she's not pregnant, I believe her." She looked at Fatimah. "But I can feel it in my bones Zayed is doing something to her to try and counter whatever she's been doing to keep herself barren. And she won't survive fighting it off. You need to take care of her, Fatii."

"Am'mah, please," Fatimah begged, cloudiness filming her eyes. "I-I don't understand—!"

"My sweet Fatii." Sooraya thumbed Fatimah's cheek. "Your mother was someone so dear to me. That fire she died in was no accident and you need to know you were right. You've inherited everything good in your mother, including a gift she left for you. You must use it. You can feel it in your heart—how much you need to be around Inayah and protect her."

"Wh—? I—" But the overwhelming questions shut down for one singular answer when Fatimah looked at Inayah. "Yes."

Sooraya kissed Fatimah's forehead. "I'm so sorry we couldn't protect you when your father sent you away. And I'm so sorry I had to wait this long. But this was the only time Mohammed could convince the guards and Pasbans to leave her section of the palace. Your father will be furious and try to keep me away. You must be careful and keep close to her. We…" A deep breath. "We can't stop Zayed from coming for her. Don't try."

"No," Fatimah gnashed, stricken. "W-We can't keep letting him do this to her—!"

"Fatii…" Inayah faintly breathed and tried to open her eyes. "I can…handle it—"

"But you shouldn't have to!" Fatimah's voice broke through her fierce insistent, but she shoved down her cry. "You don't deserve any of this, Yaya, please, let us help you—!"

"We are helping her by getting her out," Sooraya calmed. "And you. You'll follow her. You can feel it in your heart. You'll take care of her and bring her back to her home." She glanced at the door again. "I'm running out of time. The guards will come in. They don't trust you, Fatii, and they're on Zayed's side." She made her next words clear. "And your father's side."

Fatimah's blood went cold.

He knew.

Sooraya looked so broken as she looked at Inayah and how gray and weak she appeared. I'm so sorry. This has gone on for far too long. I was a silent accomplice. But you will leave this place and never suffer again. Ruda has told me so. That was why she hated her next words. "Inayah, make sure you comply with Zayed's orders."

"What?!" Fatimah looked like the goddess of war as she glared at her aunt. "You can't—!"

"I"—Inayah gulped in a breath—"understand."

"No! No, she doesn't—!" Fatimah seethed, "No! She will not—!"

"Fatimah." Sooraya looked too calm for comfort. "You have no say in this. We are the women your history books are too afraid to speak about. This isn't something we have ever wanted. But we do what we can to survive to live through war."

Fatimah wanted to scream and cry all at the same time, but all she could do was choke, "I'm getting her out of here."

"Friday's luncheon and the tour will be your only shot," Sooraya reiterated. "You need to promise, Fatii, that you will do everything you can to get her out and get yourself out. It's not just your siblings and your father against you. Mohammed's siblings and your father's siblings whisper about you. If she goes without you, she won't be safe and you'll die. You need to leave with her."

Fatimah's eyes burst into tears as she got out, "But what about you?"

Even if no one could see it, that sad smile reflected in Sooraya's eyes. "I will stay here with my husband and my children. It won't be long until Zayed suspects us. We've risked enough. Mohammed and I already planned for the worst. But it's worth it." She looked back at Inayah. "Because we saw so much of ourselves in her."

"Am'ma—"

Sooraya rose. "Zayed will come with the guards. Do not provoke him." A sheen filmed her eyes. "And I am so sorry, Fatii, for everything." And she left.

Fatimah felt like she could not breathe. The world crashed around her, unforgiving, trying to drown drown drown her into this hellscape. But when Inayah lurched, Fatimah saved herself and helped Inayah hover over the toilet, shaking and retching again. A wet stain was on her dress, and Fatimah felt ready to snap at any servant who wanted to help the queen clean.

She had to know. "You promise me, Yaya—promise me—you're not pregnant?"

Inayah spat and weakly shook her head. But she rasped, "I-It's true… Zayed…did something. I can't—" She coughed into the toilet before sniveling. "I can't…"

"Shhh…" Fatimah rubbed Inayah's back. "I'm here." But her mind was turning. I still need to process everything, but things are clear to me now. One—Father killed Mama because of the secret she kept, and he kept me alive to see if she had told me it. Her death wasn't an accident. And my institutionalization was an attempt to break my mind. And two.

A flash of blue went over her eyes. I'll leave this country with Inayah. But I'm going to return to give Shamballa the reckoning it deserves.

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

Fairy Adventure 144

•

The Mosque

•

モスク

•

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

Now was a good time to have a selfie stick.

The marble on the ground looked so white and felt so cool and the reflective pool looked so blessed that it should have been illegal for all this foot traffic to be on it. But anyone and everyone wanted to say they took a picture at the mosque-turned-art-center.

The mosque, to its point, had aged with grace and beauty. Its pure white stone with gold accents could make any person freeze in their tracks, awed by such splendor. The repairs done to the mosque had been to combine the old with the new, maintaining the past while seeking out the future. Religious motifs flourished under such artistry, from futuristic minarets to archaic domes.

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

« This is the Al-Yamma Art Centre founded after the mosque had been abandoned during Zarqā's burning and death. However, it was written in Zarqā's will to convert her mosque into something beautiful, so once it had been rebuilt, an art center was stapled here. The emergency tunnels beneath the center are still in effect today, but no one has been able to find the prophet's tomb! »

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

The auction crowd looked more glamorous than the visits as they herded across the pavement. Colorful gloves had been passed around, each person assigned a distinct color, but some had done their best to match their assigned colors while others did not care one way or another. As they entered the mosque, staff and attendants waited for them at the entrance.

A short but perky young man stepped out to greet them. "Good day, everyone! I'm Meera Kumar, the director of Al-Yamma Art Centre, and on behalf of our faculty and staff, we welcome you! Okay? Okay!"

⌜AL-YAMMA ART CENTRE

Name: Meera Kumar

Age: 38

Occupation: Executive Director

Likes: foot rubs Dislikes: lemon

Special Note: Meera is a shy ARMY thanks to her nephew's influence! ⌟

Applause rang about.

Meera smiled as the clapping quieted. "Today, you'll be given free rein of our art center and it is entirely closed off for your party. Here, we feature art through the ages, so hold no questions back as each of our guides is knowledgeable about every piece in our museum. We also have an interactive center, so for anyone here with an eye for art, feel free to try your hand! You'll have about three hours to tour before we round you up for a prelude to your formal dinner, and then we'll guide you to our auction center. Okay? Oh! But we do have one little request, okay?"

An assistant handed Meera a pair of socks, and she held them up. "You were asked today to make sure you had something like stockings or socks to cover your feet. While this is no longer a mosque, we do uphold a few traditions. Everyone here will be given a warded locker to keep your shoes in. For those uncomfortable, we do understand, but we ask you still try it, and you can always buy our socks here to walk around. But if you want to go barefoot, go ahead! We regularly enchanted our carpets to stay hygienic and safe. Okay? Okay! And welcome to our center, okay?"

Gale and Julia were in the throng with Gale dressed in his standard black and Julia matching his gothic theme, both with black gloves. Julia could hear Gale's subtle growling and snapped under her breath, "Cut it out."

Gale hushed his growling, but his hackles were raised. That stranger…

"He'll be at the auction tomorrow, underground." That stranger with the feather in his brimmed hat. "He was sent here for a mission."

The Wild peeked out.

It was Gale and Julia's turn to take off the shoes and store them in lockers. Julia opted to keep on her ankle socks, but Gale went barefoot. Closing his eyes, he took one step, and the moment his sole connected with the floor—

FWOOM!

Gale could feel every nook, cranny, and crevice below his feet as the map quickly drew out and imprinted across his skin and sense. Sick…

Julia watched Gale until his eyes opened. "All right?"

Gale nodded, but he kept quiet and acted as her loyal escort. He could not trust himself to open his mouth and not growl again. This property is enormous. But Shamballa was smart to make complex tunnels beneath their city. But as long as I keep mapping as I walk around, I'll be fine. Not only that. Footsteps are prowling in those tunnels—human ones—a couple humans. And one of them is Blondie's rapist.

Julia ignored Gale's tension to scope the scene. She saw Chunhua walking in her stockings as she hung onto her brother's arm, but her head was down, and her profile was incredibly pale. She's not looking good. I knew I should've asked Noko for the medical upgrade. If I could check her vitals…

A determined frown settled on her face.

Gale nearly lose track of mapping when Julia abruptly tugged him one way. "Wha—?"

"Shut up." Julia pasted on a smile as she looped her arm through Chunhua's. "Hey!"

"O-Oh!" Chunhua had stiffened, but she fed a mechanical smile. "Hi! Oh, um, Dylan, this is my friend, Nightingale, and her bodyguard."

Dylan nodded in kind. "It's nice to meet you both."

"Thanks! You too!" Asshole. Julia looked at Chunhua with a beam. "So, since we have free time to explore, I thought we could explore together?" She loudly whispered, "So I'm not stuck with the un-fun babysitting brigade."

"I am right here, miss," Gale said, dry.

"Oh. Um…" Chunhua looked up to her brother.

Dylan's smile widened as he let her go. "It's fine, Chunhua. Go hang out with your friends." And then he said affectionately, "消失了，你将面临后果。"

Gale's eyes narrowed as he scented ripe fear and dominating aggression. I didn't detect bad intent from Chunhua, but from her brother, things make sense now. Not saying she's in the right for summoning and binding a Demon to her. But she might be an unfortunate pawn.

Dylan carried on with his associates and Gale dropped back while Julia squeezed Chunhua's arm. "Isn't this great? We'll get our own private exploration of the art center. My brothers are art-nuts, so this is going to make them so jealous."

"Is that so?" Chunhua laughed with a strain. "You'll have to go easy on them." She fidgeted with her gloves.

Julia sharpened her stare at the movement. I'm sorry, Chunhua. You've been a good new friend to me. But you're working with sick people. She flicked her sleeve and gasped. "Oh, your hair."

Chunhua blinked. "M-My hair?"

"Oh, I'll get it." Julia brushed Chunhua's hair, but an apathetic look flashed over her as she slid in the techno-spider. She smiled sheepishly at Chunhua. "Sorry. You had a few strands out of place, but I fixed it for you." She tugged Chunhua forward. "So let's go!"

Chunhua stumbled after her. "Ah, right!"

Julia kept up her smile, but she was critically cold in her eyes. Which means I don't trust you.

°•°•°•°

Thirteen, Vinyl, Swan, and Swan's trophies stopped at an intersection. Swan looked like a gilded, feathered beauty with her trophies sharply dressed to match them. Thirteen maintained a silver look with Vinyl, but he wore black gloves and she wore white.

"All right." Swan snapped their fan shut and pointed in one direction. "I'll be going that way with my darlings. They wanted to pamper me with a date since they didn't take it easy last night and they're pouty I'll be awfully busy afterward."

Thirteen nodded. "Got it."

Swan looked at the solemn Vinyl. My… Has the baby screech lost her voice? How boring. They told Thirteen offhandedly, "Well, have fun on babysitting duty with the baby screech."

TICK!

Vinyl seethed. Not this again.

Swan molded between their trophies, on the arm of one while the other touch their lower back, both equally mesmerized by their master. They turned back to wink at Thirteen. "You want to be my third again, just let me know!" They blew a kiss and waved. "Ta-ta!"

Vinyl grounded her teeth as Swan's trophies escorted them away. I do not like them at all!

"So, kid?"

Vinyl blinked when Thirteen offered his arm.

"You ready?" he offered.

Vinyl looked at his harm and hesitated. "Ah… Sure." She hooked her arm with his. "I'm ready. Let's go."

And so, they started walking.

To be honest, the artwork was positively mesmerizing and otherworldly. Abstract and futuristic, each piece of art told a story. Some told stories about the trials and tribulations of the past. Others wove a story of how the future could be so bright and changing. And some lived in the moment, giving pieces of the present to the observer.

Vinyl did not look at any of it once.

Thirteen felt responsible for Vinyl's silence as he aborted a sigh. Ah, kid… Murky oranges flickered. I shouldn't have told you any of that.

• — • — • — • — •

"She's the ex-physician of the family I killed."

The blood drained from Vinyl's face as she looked at Thirteen. "What?"

Swan sighed and both their trophies rounded so Swan could cuddle with them. "You might as well tell her what you can without breaking the contract, Vulture." One trophy put Swan into his lap while the other took her legs into his own lap and pressed a kiss on their forehead. "She's in this too."

Vinyl did not know if she should feel something, but she kept looking at Thirteen for the answers. "Thirteen?"

Thirteen had that same dead stare. "I warned you. I'm not a good person. I never have been. I certainly wasn't years ago," he told her, detached. "I didn't kill for enjoyment or just because it was my job. I killed on my ex-boss' orders without question. I killed an entire family on his say-so. That's how it works. And I can't change that fact about me."

Vinyl tried to open her mouth, but words had failed her.

Swan watched her. "You don't need to understand us or the world we lived in," they told. "But you need to understand every person in this room would kill you on someone's orders. And that's how our world worked. Cassowary, Raven, Falcon, Red Hawk, Owl, Crow—all of us—we killed whoever, whenever, wherever, however on our boss'—or ex-boss'—orders. And we always had a choice in declining. We chose not to. We were never the good guys. We didn't kill people who slipped through the cracks of your justice systems. All we needed to know was how to verify our mark and how to stage their death."

Vinyl still could not speak.

Swan sighed. "Well, this was fun. But we've had enough Mystery Inc for tonight." They had to do nothing when one of their trophies lifted them up to carry them out, his eyes concerned for his master. Swan looked to Thirteen. "Vulture, I'll see you at breakfast." They leaned to kiss their other trophy before the trio abandoned the suite.

The silence spoke volumes.

"Is it true?" Vinyl could finally speak, even if the question came out hoarse. "Is that all true?"

Thirteen stood up. "It is." Even. "Master was always aware of the nature of my life before Fairy Tail. I've told you repeatedly I'm not the man you keep trying to pigeonhole me as. You've been looking at me with rose-colored glasses because I'm a new shiny toy a noble Mint would never see in their lifetime unless your enemy wanted you dead. You know nothing about me or the extent of what I have done."

Vinyl's bottom lip wobbled. "W-Wait—"

"I can finish this with Swan. I don't need you," Thirteen dropped.

Vinyl flinched.

"I'm sure you're not comfortable being with a family killer," Thirteen said, toneless. "I'll make sure you get back to Fiore safe." He moved away and went towards his room.

Vinyl gathered the courage to rasp, "Thirteen, I—"

"I'm worse than Vespers."

Vinyl's mouth was open, but nothing happened.

Thirteen turned the handle on his door. "I won't pretend I'm not. So treat me just how you would treat him." His jaw shifted. "Like your enemy." And he vanished into his room.

• — • — • — • — •

Thirteen did not want to feel remorse, but the longer Vinyl's silence prevailed, that stubborn feeling needled more and more at him. Maybe…she finally understands why she needs to keep away from me. I've warned her multiple times. This is what I wanted. Murky oranges wavered. Even if it feels… Never mind.

He stopped and murmured, "It's all right. If you need time to yourself, I get it." He slipped his arm away. "I'll be around." He gave his back to her and walked away—

He stopped when a hand took his wrist.

"I was a spoiled heiress."

Bemused, he turned around to face Vinyl, but she looked at his jaw and not his eyes.

"Family pressures happened, sure, and maybe I was lonely, but I was spoiled," Vinyl admitted. "I had everything anyone could have wanted, and I was naïve about so many things. I never had to worry about paying for anything—not my tuition or clothes or food. I know I sounded like a brat when I was surprised some of my friends came to uni on a music scholarship." Her smile twinged in bitterness. "I was so far removed from reality, it wasn't funny. I could've been one of those philanthropic heiresses and learned how to cook for myself and donated to charities, but instead, I just lived it up in my mansion, consumed myself in music, and never cared about people actually struggling. I had all this money and instead of giving it to real causes, I thought I was making a statement by barely touching it."

She shook her head with a snort. "I was stupid and spoiled and conceited. An arranged marriage was the end of the world for me, but I didn't even realize people in my orchestra had it worse. I didn't realize Independent Wizards were persecuted in other countries. I didn't realize people without Magic Bloodlines didn't have the special privileges."

Aquamarines glimmered. "When I met Master and Misses Dragneel, they were so patient with me with how ignorant I was. I know I had my prejudices, and it wasn't fair to anyone. I…" Shame blanketed her shoulders. "I admit I wasn't really accepting of Mages who practiced Black Magic. I thought I understood the logic behind people not wanting Chimaera and certain Aberrants and the Accursed around." She hesitated to add, "I was even afraid of Coeus for a while."

That stunned Thirteen.

"But against it all, Master and Misses Dragneel still helped me learn how to live this life," Vinyl told him. "And everyone's treated me like family. They showed me your background doesn't matter. What matters is how hard you try in your present and future. And I'm trying hard every day."

She met his eyes. No judgment or hatred or pity marked her. "I was shocked last night. And maybe I still am, but… I can see how hard you're trying. I can't say I can understand your past. It's not my place to understand or pity or forgive you for it. But if you're going to try, then I want to help you."

Thirteen did not know what to say, but he tried his best. "Kid—"

"I'm not going to look at you like my enemy." Vinyl smiled as she lifted her hand to his cheek. "You're nothing like him, Thirteen. He's my enemy. You're my friend."

Thirteen remembered his final words to her. "So treat me just how you would treat him—like your enemy." He watched Vinyl, conflicted. This kid… He sighed. "Y'know, you could get into real trouble trusting someone like me."

"Then I'll get myself out of trouble," Vinyl said with ease. "Our guild is pretty much known for trouble, remember? If you had wanted to come to Fairy Tail for something low profile, you picked the wrong guild."

Thirteen chuckled. "I thought Gajeel was out of his mind telling me to go there. I didn't think I'd fit in with a bunch of misfits, but then again, I was one too." He added, "Coeus was the first guildmate I met outside of Number Five and Gajeel."

Vinyl winced. "I'm sorry I…"

"It's fine, kid." And Thirteen meant it. "He scares a lot of people." The memories shone in his regard. "He technically wasn't part of the guild at the time, just under Master's protection. Strange kid with all his conspiracy theories. He might've had a worse hand in life than me. Maybe that's why we get along so well."

"We're different," Vinyl murmured, "and I think we get along well too."

Thirteen winced. "Kid—"

"If you want me to stay out of your way for trying to correct your past, I guess I can't stop you." Still, Vinyl looked determined. "But I'm not going to leave you behind. And I'm not going to treat you like an enemy. I'm not backing down from this, Thirteen. And you're not going to stop me unless you tie me down to a bed, but I'm pretty sure I would be into it and would think you finally accepted my advances."

Thirteen stared at Vinyl before his lips curled.

Vinyl was startled when Thirteen laughed so loudly, others glanced over in wonder about what was so hilarious. He's laughing? Amazement misted her as she watched him throw back his head and guffaw. I don't think I've ever heard him laugh.

Thirteen controlled his amusement to a grin as he wiped an imaginary tear. "You sure are somethin', kid." Warmth touched his eyes. "This part I'm gonna need to go it with Swan. You'll need to cover for me in my absence. Can you do that?"

"Are you kidding?" Vinyl flashed him an OK hand sign with a wink. "Just leave everything to me."

"Hm."

Vinyl blinked when Thirteen's heavy hand was on her head. "Thirteen?"

"You're incredible," Thirteen murmured, "y'know that? Spoiled heiress or not. It doesn't matter what circumstances you came from. You turned out pretty all right." Murky oranges gentled. "And I'm glad to have a guild mate like you."

She could not meet his eyes anymore as heat worked her cheeks, so she kept her gaze downwards. Don't get excited. He's just treating me as another guild mate. She opened her mouth—

"Thank you…Vinyl."

Pure red blossomed on Vinyl's face that she was afraid she would burst into steam. He…said my name. Internally, Chibi-Vinyl pumped a fist. He said my name! Her hands did a poor job covering the unbridled lust and excitement on her face. And he said it in that sexy voice too. I can't choose. Do I want him to call me 'Vinyl' in bed or 'Viñella'? No, I should stick to 'baby girl' if he's going to do it in that panty-dropper voice! This is going to be in my wet dreams for months!

Thirteen sweatdropped. I should've known she'd go right back to that. But rather than pull away, irked, he regarded her with warm appreciation. I'm sure she has her judgments about me. But instead…she still wants to help me. Murky oranges darkened. And it's my job to fix this.

He looked to a contemporary painting of a family on the water with their reflections symbolizing their grief and fear. Raven knows that Healer is in this country, looking for the Philosopher's Stone to save the king. If he kills her and swipes the stone, he takes away the king's last chance, and the Prime Minister and the anti-Magic party wins. Laputa's Fall already helped cement 'conservatives' come into power there and gave the Prime Minister a better hold on the kingdom. And it's all my fault.

He focused on the little boy in the painting. But this time, Raven… I won't give you the satisfaction of watching me fail again.

A bright and toothy smile and bandaged hands. "Mister!"

Thirteen's hand fisted. I'll do what I should've done a long time ago. But this time, not as a Vicious' Death Hawk—as Titania's fairy.

---

"Isn't this painting beautiful?"

"Yes, it's so lovely."

Gale took a backseat on this unguided art tour as he scanned the perimeter and watched both girls. Julia swept Chunhua over to another painting to admire the stylistic choice and read the blurb the artist had written about their piece. Another footstep forward and his eyes closed—

FWOOM.

He could feel vibrations scatter and a vivid image of above as below outlined. He opened his eyes to mentally catalog the new points he discovered. The more Lady J walks us around, the better. I have a near-perfect map of this place and the underground, but I'd need more time to decipher the footsteps in the tunnel. He shoved his hands in his pockets. But something is bothering me. I thought it was a fluke, but… The more I feel in the underground, it feels like there's something…powerful down there. And ancient.

He stopped at a portrait of a woman in her black abaya and niqab. She stood against the Wastes and its sandstorms with her blue eyes prominent.

They did say Prophet Zarqā' had her tomb buried below, but no one could find it. Gale watched the portrait as though entranced, coming up closer. They call this 'the Witch of the Waste'. Roamers were called that too. Alakitasia was still a minefield about Magic, depending on which god you followed. Some believed Magic came from corrupted means and meant you were shunned from their heaven. Other people believed Magic had positive and negative sources and what mattered is you only used the White Arts.

It almost felt like the sand in the portrait was moving.

I wonder… So she was like Blondie? The three goddesses gave her the power to see the future? Gale remembered how rattled and panicked Luna was after a vision. Did you go through that too? he wanted to ask the prophet. Was seeing the future always painful for you? Did you see good things or bad things all the time?

A faint woman's wailing song stroked the back of his head.

He flashed his eyes down, but he stared at the floor with vengeful purpose. People would kill to have foresight like that. But I'm so afraid for her. I…felt everything she felt when I saw her past—when that bastard Hemlock— His throat flexed in disgust as those phantom secondary emotions touched him. I want to ask her if she saw that happen to her in the future, but I… I can't. The only thing I could do was live through it in her memories.

The smell of sand tickled his nose.

The portrait's eyes shimmered brightly.

His jaw clenched. He doesn't deserve to live, that sick fuck. I can't let someone like that stay out there. If he's on a mission, it means he's allowed to roam free. And that also means he's a threat to Blondie's safety.

But is that what she would want? Sycaña gently asked. For you to kill him?

That chipped some of his rage. I…

"Oh, bodyguard!" Julia trilled. "You're doing a bad job of guarding my body!"

Gale turned and stalked toward Julia and Chunhua.

And the woman in the portrait was gone.

°•°•°•°

Julia kept her hold on Chunhua as they explored the art museum. The basement level was just as enchanting as the upper floors with more exhibits to show works from foreign artists. The Nuhasian exhibit had dedicated students to recreate hieroglyphs and paintings of the great sorceress Cleopatra and everyday affairs. A Meidilandian artist contributed with an Animate mural of the countryside.

Chunhua perked when she saw them enter the Zhōnguánese gallery.

From hanfus to teacups, the exhibit was of pure beauty and balance. Artists had relied on older methods of artistry to paint their interpretations of historical moments, whimsical figures, and their own visions. An LV showed an informational documentary on Giltena and Zhōnguá in the War of the Seri-Sovo Border Conflict from long ago. Calligraphers had dedicated their craft to profound Zhōnguánese proverbs.

Julia watched Chunhua look at her culture in part wonder and part sadness. "Your heritage is very beautiful," she commented.

"Yes." Chunhua's throat bobbed. "It is." One painting drew her attention, and she slid away from Julia to approach it.

Julia came to Chunhua's side to observe it. It was a long horizontal painting trapped within glass, but it looked almost ancient. She could not understand the Zhōnguánese hanzi, but she read the painting aloud. "'The legend of the son of Báihǔ'." She blinked. Right. This is the person the Demon inside Chunhua wants revenge on. She observed Chunhua's profile, but she was observed in the painting. Maybe I could use this to find out why the Demon wants him.

So she questioned, "So, what does all this say?"

Chunhua blinked as though realizing Julia was at her side. "Ah, um, well…" She pointed to a painted young man with pure white hair and a white hanfu. "That's the son of Bahui. He was a Cultivator a thousand years ago, but no one knew which sect he longed to. All they knew was that he would arrive to help people after the fall of the Guardians and he'd disappear. This painting talks about the legends around him."

She brought Julia through the movements and gestured to one that showed the son of Báihǔ leading eight distinct others into battle. "It's said the Eight Immortals would come together at his call and listened to his command." She went to the next one to show the son of Báihǔ crossing swords with a sinfully beautiful man with silver butterflies around him and another androgynous being with red lips, red hair, and looked like a genie, save for the path over their right eye. "He fought against two Ghost Kings, the Silver Butterfly Ghost King and the Red-Lipped Beauty Ghost King."

Julia echoed, "'Ghost King'?"

"They're Demons, but they don't live here. They live in the Ghost Realm, which can overlap with our world at certain points," Chunhua told her. She went to the next movement that showed the son of Báihǔ riding a winding Dragon with eight other Dragons beside them, each with a different scale color. "He met the nine Dragons, the sons of the Zhōnguánese Dragon King Huanglong."

Julia quirked an eyebrow. "Why is he called the 'son of Báihǔ'? Doesn't he have a name?"

"If he does, we never knew it," Chunhua told her, still gazing at the pictures. The next one showed the legendary Cultivator conquering a Vampire. "He kept a very low profile, according to our history books. Many people he helped never knew it was him until he left. We call him the son of Báihǔ because…" She stopped.

Julia did as well.

They both looked at the image of a great and glowing white tiger snarling with the other Guardians around him. But there the white-haired Cultivator stood between the tiger's grew paws with his guzheng.

"It's because Báihǔ chose him," Chunhua told her, hushed. "After the Black Wars a thousand years ago, Zhōnguá was in a state of chaos. Our Cultivators had died saving us all, but that didn't mean we would always be safe." Something akin to hopelessness lurked in her eyes. "Without the Guardians and Cultivators, my home country had no defense from evil creatures and Warlocks. We were so lost. But then"—admiration lit her face—"he appeared. When Báihǔ left, white was stripped off everything. But then he arrives with white hair and it's said he had the eyes of the White Tiger Guardian. And when he moved, you felt like you were in the presence of Báihǔ himself. And that's how he was named the son of Báihǔ.

"He defended all of Zhōnguá by himself," she continued. "Báihǔ's reign was in the west, which was prospering after the water. But the son of Báihǔ saved us all and helped give us time to rebuild what we lost. But for centuries, we haven't seen him since."

"I see." Julia looked at the painting of the Guardians and the Cultivator with intrigue and respect. He must've been incredible to defend an entire country like that. However, from what Chunhua's Demon said, he exists today. And…

"I want you to bring me the son of Báihǔ and his little Chosen."

Julia thought hard about such a demand. 'Chosen'—I'm assuming it means something like a life partner. So this Demon wants him and his partner. She could feel that chilling disconnect again between her and Chunhua. And she's the one agreeing to this too. She's just as guilty in this. And she's acting like a victim? No. Sorry, Chunhua. Her lips brushed the knife on her thigh holder. But I can't forgive you.

Chunhua stumbled when Julia cozied to her side. "Nightingale—"

"C'mon!" Julia tugged Chunhua. "Let's go see more of the center." She walked with Chunhua at her side. Even so, if I'm with her, it'll give us the advantage. I can keep an eye on the enemy. She turned her head and subtly nodded at Gale. And you… Go find what you were looking for.

Gale nodded and caught a pair of grandiose church-like doors and stopped. "Miss? I'd like to stop at this exhibit."

Julia kept her stride as she waved a dismissive hand. "Fine. Go ahead."

"Miss—"

"Oh my god, fine, I'll stay close," Julia drawled. "Happy?"

Gale snorted. "I'm never happy." As he opened the door, he chuckled to himself hearing Julia grumble about her "babysitter" to Chunhua. Thanks, Lady J. He opened both doors. I'll pay you back for this.

He walked inside, but he stood in the aisle, perplexed. What the…?

The doors shut.

Gale slowly took around. He had landed inside some sort of chapel with the pews wooden and well looked after. The intimate altar had no Lord's Table; instead, it was curved with stained glass windows that portrayed races Gale had never seen in his lifetime. The strange background light illuminated each picture, and he took the time to recognize them all. These… These are the lost races of Earth Land…

He looked at the pointed ear archiver. Elves… The next stained-glass window showed a fanged person with piercing red eyes. Vampires… The next piece of ark showcased a blue-skinned person with braided dark blue hair and water swirling around them. Undines… All nine races of the Fae are here. He caught sight of a swordswoman with mesmerizing monarch butterfly wings. Fairies…

The straight back of the altar had larger dedications with a kneeling white-winged Angel and a band of metal cloaking their eyes, a horned Devil with its claws over its heart, a powerful God, a Demon, a roaring Dragon, and a great Phoenix with its wings spread.

These… Gale blinked. These were the most powerful races in all of Earth Land. But the Black Wars either eradicated them or they went back to their worlds and cut off contact from us. He glanced around. There's no name attached. But this is a pretty powerful piece.

He shook away his trance. Never mind that now. There's something more important for me to do. Lady J gave me an opportunity. I can't waste it. He took a step—

FWOOM!

All the pieces he memorized came together in his mind as he felt the vibrations of the earth. When he looked down, he kneeled and took off his glove to touch the ground. Looks like they didn't go with normal VCT. These are just slabs of limestone, easy enough to bend. I can feel the concrete and earth underneath.

He stood up and tucked both his gloves in his jacket pockets before pulling out his Fairy Tail pendant. With one press, his stealth suit covered him. I'll be digging for a while. I'll have limited time until Lady J can't explain my absence anymore.

His eyes briefly glowed with Magic as his feet swept the floor. His hands moved until he pressed them out—

GATAGATAGATA!

The crude diagonal hole in the ground looked meters did, but it had not broken into any ground. But still, it would be a good starting point. He could smell rich spoil and musty concrete in any interesting mixture choice. Without question, he started his journey down his tunnel.

Sycaña? Gale called. Are you with me?

Always, Sycaña told him. I have always been with you.

All right. Gale looked up at the light he was leaving behind. Because we don't break for the surface until we're finished. Green flashed his eyes as his hands came up—

And the tunnel opening closed.

---

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

Fairy Adventure

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

---

"It's, uh…"

"Right! Isn't it great?"

"Uh…"

Vinyl looked riveted as she looked at the painting while Thirteen looked baffled. He had to ask, "How do they bend like that without it being for torture?"

"It's called being flexible."

"Yeah, but… There are two guys before him and he can still suck the third guy's—?"

"Yup."

"Huh."

"And you see those two over there with him bent over that bench—"

"No, I see them. They're the only ones where I can actually tell what they're doing. Still… That's concerning and impressive."

"Right? Y'know, I can be that flexible—"

"Don't even go there, kid."

Thirteen ignored Vinyl's puffed cheek as he shook his head at the painting. I guess anything and everything is art these days. His eyebrow twitched as he saw Vinyl's lust-driven look again. I don't even want to know where her mind went.

SUTASUTA…

Thirteen and Vinyl turned to see Swan and their trophies approaching. Thirteen caught Swan's tiny nod. So. It's time then. He turned to Vinyl. "Kid—"

"Oh, my darling!"

Thirteen was blindsided when Swan rushed into his arms lovingly and nuzzled him. "Jesus fu—!"

"Oh, my baby, how could I be away from you for so long?" Swan cooed. "I'm so sorry I left you to babysit."

TICK!

Vinyl kept her rage under control (and Swan's trophies looked at Thirteen in distrust). That's it! If they want a fight, they've got a fight!

Thirteen needed a smoke. "Swan—"

"He's behind you, darling," Swan whispered.

As they pulled away from Thirteen, he turned around with a neutral mask on. "It's been a while."

Vinyl frowned. "Who are you talking to?" She turned to his line of vision only to gasp and partially hide behind him on instinct. Who is that? I didn't even hear him come in!

Thirteen lifted his chin. "Kid. This is someone from my old organization. And someone you can trust." He stepped forward. "I didn't think I'd see you again…"

The steampunk plague doctor stood in his black attire. His amber goggles gave nothing away, and he kept his winged cane between gloved fingers.

"…Cassowary."

Cassowary cocked his head, bird-like.

Swan crossed their arms. They kept their stare pinned onto Cassowary as they told Vinyl, "He snuck up on me while my trophies wanted to show me an exhibit. I'm not too happy about my date being interrupted. It's hard enough to schedule time with such beauties."

"You'll live," Thirteen muttered, stepping closer to Cassowary. He spoke in low tones between them. "You didn't have to save Lammergeier. But I know it was you."

Cassowary cocked his head the other way.

Thirteen softened. "Thank you."

Cassowary nodded back.

Thirteen turned back to Vinyl. "I'll be back. And you'll be all right here with Vespers?"

She nodded. "I'm okay here. Just…" She held back for a moment before rushing up on the tips of her toes—

Thirteen had no time to react when she pressed a kiss on his jaw.

Cassowary cocked his head again and the trophies mimicked Swan their oh-my hand covering their mouth gesture.

Vinyl stepped back with pink pinching her cheeks and a gentle smile. "Be safe. Okay?"

For a moment, Thirteen could feel that burning kiss on his jaw and thought he had nothing to say. But suffice to say, he equally surprised Vinyl by showing her one of his rare smiles. "Sure, kid. I'll be back soon."

Vinyl felt awed. Thirteen…

CLAP!

Swan smiled all too smug. "Well, now. That was a cute little sendoff." They sashayed over to Thirteen to latch onto his arm and aim their grin toward Vinyl. "But when you're a grownup, there are some more memorable ways to send your man off, baby screech. You'll get there someday when you mature, no?"

Chibi-Vinyl was ready to throw hands. This little…!

"Don't be such an asshole," Thirteen muttered as he herded Swan away with a curious Cassowary following ever-so-silent. "Is there ever a time you speak without pissing people off?"

"Oh, don't be like that, cutie," Swan teased. "You didn't mind all my talking when we took that job in Sin. It was my words that got you to do something very beautiful for me, wasn't it?" They laughed at Thirteen's agitated and abashed red face. "You're such a little virgin sometimes! How cute! It makes me want to recreate our—"

"Don't even start that."

Tick marks twinged Vinyl's cheek as she raised a shaky fist. Why I outta…! She calmed down with a deep exhale. No. I can't let that annoying person distract me. Thirteen asked me to do something for him. Aquamarines steeled. And I can't let him down now.

She held out her hand and chanted: "Requip: Galway's Flute!" A flash of Magic left her with a precious golden flute that felt familiar in her fingers, already in-tune and warmed up. Her fingers slid to the pads with her elbows relaxed, and she adjusted her chin as she put the mouthpiece right below her lips. Now. I cast…

She took a deep breath. …Tamino's Illusion! And she started to play.

Dies Bildnis ist bezaubernd schön was a moving aria, as the prince became besotted with a princess he had only seen in a portrait. Vinyl pushed through the aria with the same legato medium vibrato the tenor would belt for such an enchanting scene. Magic misted from her flute to circle before her filled with music notes. The more she poured her heart into the piece, the more the spell wove and morphed until the mist and music notes compressed and blossomed into their creations.

When Vinyl finished her sonetto, she brought down her flute and looked at her creations. Perfect copies of Thirteen, Swan, and Swan's trophies stood before her. Dismissing her flute, she walked around to make sure her illusions were intact. Okay. This should be good enough. I've never made this many illusions before, so I'll have to be focused on controlling them.

She stood before them. I just need to find a good melody to conduct them to. She closed her eyes, searching hard. But nothing is coming to mind. It needs to be powerful. She stiffened. That's it!

She opened her eyes and took a breath. I know you're here somewhere. Your voice—I can use it as an anchor. I'm sorry for doing this. But I need you one more time. She lifted her hand, miming all the conductors she had shadowed as though she were preparing her orchestra before her.

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

"Sing."

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

Heather grays twinkled.

It was a false window that drew her in, tall and wide. Using a button, the viewer could watch an opera, be at the summit of a mountain, watch the countryside roll by as though they were on a train—but she had chosen to look over the Amazone Rainforest and watch the birds.

She knew he had work to do. It was a compromise anytime they saw each other, and it was unfair of her to pout about it when he already did so much. So she stood alone at the window while he was with a group of businessmen eager to curry his favor.

That melody that haunted her played.

She pressed a hand against the glass. La-lala… La-lala-lala…

---

I can do this. I can do this.

Kamir escorted Inayah as he passed long conversations with ministers and politicians. Her hands kept a light hold like she had been taught in her etiquette classes with her chest slightly forward, shoulders down, and her chin up.

I can do this. I can do this.

Inayah tried to ignore the rumbling in her stomach and the gags her throat flexed.

I can do this. I can do this—

I can't do this.

Inayah whispered to her husband, "Kamir, my love. May I pardon myself to the ladies' room?"

"Of course." His concern might have looked as authentic, but there was another emotion in those dark raven eyes, one she did not want to figure out. "Are you feeling sick again?"

Inayah kept the tremor out her voice out of her voice as she lied, "No, it's not like that. I just need to use the ladies' room." To stop his questions, she pressed a kiss to his bearded cheek—she was grateful the veil served as a barrier—and slipped from his hold. She ignored whatever excuses Kamir made on her behalf as she gathered her dress skirt and kept her pace even and poised.

Her stomach churned.

She pressed her lips together to keep from blurting out a mistake. Where's the bathroom? Where's the bathroom?

She could feel the nausea flaw her throat furiously.

Inayah spotted the women's restroom and, with no one around, she darted inside. She could not afford the decorum and manners as she staggered into the first stall, ripped off her veil, and retched into the toilet. All her efforts to eat a bland lunch and keep it down were gone in a matter of excruciating minutes until her stomach could not pump out anymore. Tears pressed as she closed her eyes and pulled away for the toilet to automatically flush.

Sweat broke across her face as she laid a hand on her lower stomach. Just a little longer, she promised herself. Please. I can hold out a little longer. Just a little longer and this nightmare will be over—

A band of dread and blood wafted over her.

A smile. "There's my girl."

Inayah did not want to look. She did not want to look when he hovered over her nor would she look when he crouched down beside her. Something snapped and twisted, and she still did not look when a water bottle came into view. She understood the sanctity of her veil and wanted so badly to put it back on and shield her face from him.

"You need to drink after all that," Zayed told her with care.

Inayah did not take it.

Zayed sighed. "Inayah…" He sounded like he was disappointed in a mere child. "I know you're angry at me, but please, don't take your anger out on our baby—"

"I'm not pregnant."

He sighed again. "I know," he soothed. He capped the water and set it aside to thumb her cheek, ignoring how she stiffened beneath his unsolicited touch. "I know it doesn't seem real to you right now, but I'm very concerned for you. Even if you don't believe you're pregnant, I want my queen in good health. And I'm restraining every instinct to take you home and lie with you and help you get better."

They both knew what he meant.

She repeated, tight, "I'm not pregnant."

Zayed tutted. "I know." He sat on the ground to collect her in his arms. They both knew she would not lash and scream. If he was in here, it meant any rejection, any fight, would never be heard by the outside world. "I know you're not." He placed his hand over hers on her lower stomach and thumbed her knuckles. "Because I know"—he leaned down to breathe in her ear—"you've been purposefully straining your abilities to make yourself barren."

Inayah felt numb to the tips of her toes.

Zayed kissed her temple and murmured, "Such a smart girl, aren't you, ya hayati? I'm sure my bastard father knew you'd do that. But that man still fucks you like you're ripe and fertile because he can't resist your body. You're quite lucky you have your contract in place to have preplanned marital sex. But my Inayah…" He brushed his jaw against her brow. "I'm nothing like my father."

LUB-DUB!

Inayah bit back her whimper as pain hammered down on her lower stomach. It was instinct for her to curl into a ball, but she wanted to fling herself away when Zayed kept his hold on her. Another pout of pain sunk into her body and a muffled cry passed her lips.

Zayed looked at her in dark lust. "You can't keep up your ability forever, not with how often we've been trying for our son. To be honest, I didn't want to get you pregnant so soon. That's why I spaced out our time together. I thought it was cute how you so desperately used your abilities, but you were a fertile bitch every time the physician checked you over." He rocked her when she could not help it and she whined from the agony ravaging her insides. "But then, I had an idea. What if I made it impossible for you to turn on and off your abilities? What if you were spread beneath me at every available moment?"

The tears felt hot against Inayah's cheeks and a bout of nausea made her thrash—

"Shh-shhh, I'm here, ya hayati." Zayed guided her to the toilet, and she barely made it to retch. He fixed her hair and held her up. "It was so easy to have you," he continued. "Not even when you came did you stop using that adorable ability. So I got even more curious." He brushed his lips to his ear. "What if every time I came inside you, I filled you with parts of my Curse?"

Inayah spat up again.

"You've been feeling random pain, but that's been me this whole time," Zayed whispered. "My Curse—it's persistent. It knows how badly I want to see you with our child. It's a bit enthusiastic to break down your defenses. I thought it wasn't working when you seemed fine. But I see that's not the case." He nuzzled her neck. "Inayah—you're going to be pregnant soon."

"No," Inayah gasped out.

"Shh, you're very weak right now," Zayed cooed. "You're still fighting it, I know. But you'll cave. You won't be able to take the pain anymore. Your ability won't be able to fight my Curse forever and you know that. And it's scary being pregnant—I know. But I've made sure you'll be in luxury. And who knows?" He pressed a kiss to her neck and imprinted his words on her skin. "You might enjoy it so much, we can have another."

Inayah's hand wanted to come up and claw him again, but she forced her hand to keep to her lap. I can do this. I can do this.

A hand curved her backside.

"Do you know how rare you are?" Zayed asked her as he rubbed her ass. "So rare. Not even your Parent had much kin, not with their abilities. The others with your abilities were wiped out. Isn't that awful? And now you're all alone in this world. But…you have me." He rubbed her stomach. "And our son now." He nipped her ear with a shuddery pant. "Once you let go, it'll be so much easier for you," he promised her. "Just let go and you can be happy."

Inayah bit her tongue when she heard the telltale signs of shifting cloth, but when her skirt was lifted, a panicked blurt left her. "Not here!"

A pause.

"Of course, my love, I'm so sorry."

Inayah kept her eyes shut and her tears quiet when she felt him shift them out of the stall. His touch burned her, but she stomach had given up all it could even as her throat kept spasming. She wanted to reach for her veil, but she knew it was pointless. He would rip it away from her. Instead, she worked on silencing the noise around her and concentrated on good memories. I can do this. Just a little longer. He won't make me look at him this time.

Fingers brushed between her legs—

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

"Your Highness."

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

Zayed held back from snapping get out when his fingers stopped reaching their purchase. He called sharply, "What."

"Chancellor Sooraya has heard of Her Majesty's nausea and would like to offer her some nausea-relief," the guard called, tone blank, giving nothing away. "I have let her know you are caring for Her Majesty's condition, but she is insistent as she knows a few remedies."

Zayed leaned back his head and sighed. "Tell her the queen will be ready for her shortly."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Zayed's eyes darkened. Sooraya… You are becoming much more annoying than you should be. He nearly growled as he ground against Inayah's ass. He had not gotten the chance to take out his cock, but if he was not careful, he would be leaking. Still, he ground against her again and watched Inayah tremble beneath him. I was so close. I can taste her pain. One last fuck would've shattered her. But maybe Sooraya did me a favor.

He slid his hands over Inayah's hips to cover her with his body and dry thrust. The second she breaks, she won't be able to help herself. Her power will be too out of control. I need us to be in the house I prepared so I can keep her there.

He rubbed Inayah's nape with his nose. Once she feels she's pregnant, she won't be able to leave. It's in her nature. And I'll be the only hope for this continent to keep back the Wastes. And I'll be the one the new heir of Zeref will ally with.

"My aunt seems to have interrupted us," he breathed into her flesh. "But we'll continue this later tonight."

He kissed her cheek and memorized how sinfully delightful she was, helpless and all on fours. I wasn't planning on finding her attractive. I'd prepared that house just to trap her inside. But this is much sweeter. He licked his fingers. Just one last taste. He curved her ass before nudging her panties aside to press his fingers—

Ravens flared in surprise then glittered in excitement. She's wet. He held himself back from taking advantage of such a sweet scenario, but pleasure shot down to his cock as he rubbed her sex and could feel that supple creaminess coat his fingers. She's never been wet unless I went down on her. But she's wet without me doing anything. She's losing. He wanted to laugh. She's losing!

He pulled back his fingers and took his time licking every drop. A groan made his cock ache at the honeyed taste. Her abilities can't fight my Curse on her. She's weakening. Her body's practically begging for it. Nasser said his Necromancer found some whore that drives him crazy with lust that he can't function without tasting her. I thought he was sick in the head. I heard the whore is some child, the sick freak. But I get what he meant. She tastes—his lips tugged into a jagged grin—addicting.

The door opened, but a more hesitant guard called, "Your Highness?"

Zayed replied, "Five minutes." He put back Inayah's panties and smoothed her dress to cover her again. "Come here, Inayah." He helped her sit up and ignored the pang of disappointment he had no time to quickly set her on his cock and enjoy the show. "That's my brave girl." He kissed her forehead. "Sooraya's going to help you. But don't worry. I'll come for you tonight."

His cock throbbed and he could not help it when he pressed a kiss to her lips. She's finally wet. She'll be mine now.

Giggles touched his mind.

A need wormed, slow-acting but when it showed its true colors, it felt so addicting and fulfilling. The small whimper when he kissed her harder made him want more. Mine. She's mine. No one else can have her now.

The whispers and gurgles circled him.

Did she always smell so sweet? He could not remember. But he could get drunk off her scent and taste. More—he needed more. This was not enough. She was not covered in him and whining his name. The mere memory of her spread out underneath him made him shove her to the ground with a snarl and he went for her belt. I need to fuck her now. She's mine! She belongs to me!

The voices rose in a discordant symphony, goading him on—

Inayah rasped, "Sooraya."

Zayed stiffened.

The voices were gone.

What…? What was I…? Zayed recognized how close he had been to ripping her clumsy skirt and driving home into her. The thought even now was tempting but not tempting enough. He frowned as he pulled away. I should be careful. Naseer said his Necromancer had a tantrum when his whore was sent home. I can't let her consume me. I don't need someone having that much power over me.

Jerking away, he was a tad rougher in pulling away from her and leaving her a crumpled mess on the ground. Whispers of his Curse convinced him don't go stay fuck fuck fuck she's yours now, but he flicked them away with a shake of his head, adjusted himself, and abruptly left with his cold mask back in place. He fixed his shirt. I won't allow this Curse to control me. And neither will she.

He went out and caught Sooraya lying in wait. His respectful, affectionate smile slipped on. "Am'mah Sooraya," he greeted with fake warmth. "I think she needs you more than me. Make sure to let the guard know if you need anything or if my stepmother needs anything."

Sooraya nodded. "Of course." And she went inside.

His mask was back. I could sense her dislike of me even more this time. Playing loving aunt when you hate me as much as Fatimah. But you're scared of me too. Maybe I should keep her around. The staff at the house are trained in prenatal care. But if I can make it so Inayah never leaves, I should drag Sooraya there as a pet for her. Ravens darted. But what if she takes her away from me? She could steal Inayah away from me. I should just kill her now—

He stopped, irked at the thought. What am I thinking? I need to stick to the plan. I can't kill Sooraya without setting the stage, and I need her alive. He stalked down the hall. And no one will steal Inayah from me.

Whispers tickled the back of his head.

---

GATAGATAGATA!

Gale pushed more earth back to deepen the tunnel. As he walked down barefoot, he took out the crushed gemstones he had hidden in one of his utility pockets. As he drained them into his mouth, he muttered bitterly, Well, at least this is better than tree bark.

Sycaña chuckled. Jewel Dragons were very rare for an Earth Dragon horde. For a hatchling to be born of a jewel meant the parents were particularly strong. And from my understanding, humans do not have Jewel Magic.

It depends, Gale supposed. Alchemists are more common with it, but actual Mages? No. My mom took in my first gemstones for spell deconstruction by the Bureau, and my work was so complex and energy-consuming that even a normal Wizard would need a couple Lacrima to help them. He finished his gemstones and dusted off his hands. It's weird. I didn't realize making gemstones was rare.

He could feel the tunnel was plugged again and Magic warmed his skin as he kept clearing his path for a few more meters.

Solemnity passed from Sycaña. I… I know you aren't happy with me, Little Gem, for my secrets. I understand you are frustrated and feel it belittling, my protection. But I don't wish to see you encouraged. I am very proud to call you my son. You would have done well raised with my horde.

He snorted. Yeah, right.

It's true. Sorrelo could feel as much as I that you were both Dragon and man, Sycaña told him. Our drakes and hatchling were very fond of you. They thought you were shy.

That made Gale stop. Me? Shy?

Sycaña chuckled. They thought you stayed as a human because you were shy about your scales.

Gale went back to walking until he could feel the blockage again and he pushed it down farther. Would they have liked me even with my black scales?

They would have. A note of sad wistfulness touched their connection. Sometimes, when I dream, I can imagine raising you with my horde. Sorrelo already accounted for you as his own. You would have been the youngest. Roserary would have defended you from your brothers. They grew bigger than I and often liked seeing who had sharper teeth and deeper growls. Floridia would have constantly brought you with her. Adventurous, that one. She sighed. It would have been different. I wouldn't have been able to take you with me to meet with the others.

Why? But Gale glumly got the picture. My black scales?

Black Dragons were not always bad, Little Gem, and you must know that, Sycaña insisted. Your scales are unusual but not unnatural. You have quite the growl in you. You've learned when to muzzle it and keep your teeth in and your claws down. But I am certain you would have tried to growl at those who could not trust your scales and would have offended those with centuries to their name.

Gale could not argue with that. Yeah. Sounds about right. He pushed back more of the blockage and took the time to marinate in his thoughts and keep them to himself. Was what happened to me in the Boundary Forest that bad? Is that why…I can't remember?

It took some time until he pushed through the last blockade and—

GATAGATAGATA!

DON!

Gale squinted when light poured in. He kept his wits about him as he climbed out of his tunnel and over the rubble to land in a new tunnel that had been crudely carved. Caged torches mounted on the walls to light the way instead of damning all who invaded these halls to darkness. He took off his mask to openly sniff and taste the air, feeling the earth beneath his feet.

These flames are magical. I think they're motion-activated and self-igniting since I can't smell someone who passed through here recently. Gale looked behind him, then in front again. Any human scents are stale. The air isn't poisoned either. He caught the moss and jutted roots. I'm thinking this tunnel wasn't the work of a professional Earth Mage. Probably enlisted a magical beast to carve it out. The workmanship is good enough for an emergency exit, but it's pretty uneven. Even so…

Gale took off his gloves and was an expert in taking out his contacts without a mirror. When he rapidly blinked and refocused himself, rubies burned with intense hatred. That Necromancer is down here.

He stuffed his contacts into their case and slipped it into his pocket before kneeling at the moss. All right, you bastard. He touched the moss and closed his eyes. Let's see where the fuck you are so I can take you down.

PIKA!

Gale could feel his consciousness travel through the threads of life living below the surface. When one root ended, he was connected to another, rushing through the underground as Nature heeded his summons and brought him closer and closer to purchase—

PIKA!

A picture pieced before Gale, and he had a ragtag cluster of mushrooms to thank. He could feel the vibrations of footsteps approaching. There you are, fucker. The image showed as a large frame came closer, but he flinched as he felt an overwhelming Death corrode all Life around it. The mushrooms tried to hold on, but Gale could feel Death sap away Life inside them. Hold on, you guys, just a little more.

The large frame continued into the image to show a cloaked man—

Little Gem!

Gale snapped out of the connection with his lungs burning, heart pounding, and stomach churning. He fished out more crushed gemstones to hawk down as he stumbled getting up, but he fumbled and ended up slackening against the other side of the tunnel. "Shit," he breathed through his mouth fulls.

Are you all right? Sycaña fretted.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm…" Gale went for his emergency water and took a few sips to relieve the fire in his throat.

Sycaña warned him, You must be careful, Little Gem. While it is commendable Nature listens to your call, you must not come into contact with dying organisms. Their death can affect you as well.

"Well now you warn me," Gale muttered. Finished with his water, he put it back and took a moment to get back his breath. That was the Necromancer—no doubt about that. But… Rubies darkened as he remembered Death trying to tease Life from him. I can't remember Necromancers having a Killing Curse. But he wasn't killing. It was like he was absorbing all the life around him—like he was stealing it.

• — • — • — • — •

"Necromancers don't die so easily." The stranger looked at Gale, calm even in the event Gale could tear into his throat. "They have a…relationship with Death. But that makes them all the more fascinated with Life. And your girlfriend smells like an aphrodisiac to any Necromancer."

• — • — • — • — •

Gale latched onto those words. Life and death… Henry was a Necromancer too. But I didn't feel the same power from him as I did with this monster. Then again, it could be different sources. Henry only became a Necromancer because Big Daddy Demon helped him. This Necromancer would be one from birth or some other means. He was absorbing anything living around him. Is that why that stranger said Necromancers are obsessed with life? Because they constantly absorb it without feeling it for themselves?

He got up and dusted himself off. Whatever. It doesn't matter. The Wild gleamed in his eyes as scales clumped on his cheeks and clawed his hands. He can get high from the afterlife for all I care. I know what you did to someone I love, Necromancer. I saw it. I lived it. So you don't need to worry about life and death anymore.

He took a step—

FWOOM.

He could feel the vibrations feed him imagery of the world around him and—

DOTA… DOTA… DOTA…

His claws flexed as he walked down the tunnel. Because this time, I'll take care of your life and your death—permanently.

---

Fatimah hated acting.

The crowd Haya enlisted was another group of strong women with strong ideals, yet they boxed her out of the conversation because she was "mentally ill". She trailed behind them as she watched Haya be the perfect event organizer, providing great discussion topics and segues and valid concerns and critiques. And the ladies admired her for it.

Fatimah wondered if these women knew how hypocritical they all were.

Another day, another 'Haya climbs to the top of the social later'. Fatimah rolled her eyes away. Before, it would've bothered me. Now, I have bigger things to worry about.

While the ladies rode the people mover to talk and observe this long corridor, Fatimah went about the light aisle where each step lit her up in a different color. A loose hijab suited for today. Her mother always liked the style, and she felt closer to her than ever before. She toyed with the ends of her headscarf. It'd be hypocritical of me to be angry at Am'mah and 'Amm. Considering what happened to Mama, I'm sure they knew Father or Zayed would do the same. And—deep browns flickered down—it's not like I haven't been doing anything either.

Something moved in the glass' reflection.

Fatimah escaped the corridor, but she had no wish to be the annoying tail to Haya's clique. She stepped into a forgotten exhibit with mirrors everywhere. But these mirrors were enchanted works, reflecting her into various scenes or even amusedly changing her reflection to something else. And the exhibit was named:

FIND YOUR REFLECTION

Fatimah skimmed the mirrors with no real interest. Even so, Am'mah Sooraya told me everything I need to know. The luncheon and the tour on Friday—that's the only time Yara and I can get Inayah out of Shamballa. The person who put me into contact with Yara told me there would be a safe house and new identities waiting for us. Deep browns shimmered. To be honest, I thought it was a scam. I just…didn't think anyone would be willing to help me. But then…I met someone willing. I met Yara. And now, Yaya can have a free life.

The thought of Inayah free from Shamballa's shackles, free to live amongst the grass and the flowers and the sun, free to show her smile—it made Fatimah's heart warm. My contact promised Yaya would get all the care she needed, and we'd never have to worry about money. It felt too good to be true, but once they told me everything, I realized this was just the tip of what she deserved. Inayah… That first day I met you… I knew you deserved more.

• — • — • — • — •

"This is Inayah, soon to be my wife and Emira of Shamballa."

Fatimah stood with Zayed and Haya for the intimate meet and greet in the eastern sitting room. Father kept his fiancée close to him, and it was too notable about their differences. Father had always been a large and tall man, oozing cold confidence and prestige. But not once had his fiancée looked up as though she was trained to keep her eyes low. Her braids curtained part of her face and there was a shake to her as she clung to Father like a lifeline.

Fatimah kept her thoughts to herself. 'She seems afraid to be here. This is the woman Father has been pursuing all these months? She looks a little younger than me.'

Haya took it upon herself to showcase that big bright beam with her Minstrish accented (and she would probably humble brag to Inayah how she studied in Lincoln, Minstrel) as she helloed, "It's nice to finally meet you, Inayah. I'm Haya. Father has been running like a chicken with his head cut off trying to win your hand. Welcome to the family."

"Thank you," Inayah murmured, still not looking up.

Zayed was next down the line, but he took his time looking over his future stepmother. "I'm Zayed. It's lovely to meet you," he greeted. Per tradition, he went for her hand—

Inayah tightened her hold on Father.

Father spoke, stern in Shamballan, "Not now, Zayed. She's still skittish."

Fatimah furrowed her brow when she caught Zayed hesitate. "Right. Of course, Father." He took back his hand and switched to Minstrish again. "Thank you for giving Father your time of day, Inayah," he told her. "Haya's right. He was a mess falling over himself to get you the right gifts. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

Inayah nodded.

Fatimah could not shake off an odd sensation watching Zayed and the way he kept his eyes on Inayah as he stepped back. 'What was—?"

"Fatimah. Greet your new mother."

"Ah, yes, Father." Fatimah stepped up with a smile and a traditional bow. "Inayah, welcome to Shamballa. I'm Fatimah. It's a pleasure to meet you. I hope Shamballa can be your new home quickly."

Inayah flinched.

Father rubbed Inayah's side and murmured something to her. When she nodded, Father told his children, "That's enough for today. Inayah will rest in the queen's apartments and is not to be disturbed. I just wanted to make some preliminary introductions." He peered down at his bride-to-be. "Ya hayati, can you walk?" When she nodded, he warned, "Don't lie. I know you're still hurting."

Inayah winced.

It certainly surprised Fatimah when Father scooped his bride-to-be in his arms and Inayah hid her face in his neck and shoulder. She could see both Haya and Zayed were stunned as well. 'Father…'

Father told the siblings, "Dismissed." He walked out of the room—

Inayah shifted and lifted her head—

Fatimah felt the wind knocked out of her seeing such unusual eyes that beheld sunset with the color of a dying sun her pupils. 'Wow… Her eyes…'

The moment Father and Inayah were a respectful distance away, Haya dropped her façade with a huff and an eye roll. "Great. Father's a cradle-robber," she bit. "Doesn't he know how bad this will make the rest of us look? Was she even legal?"

"She is." Amusement edged Zayed's tone. "Maybe you just look old."

Haya glared at him before retouching her features to be the perfect heir. "Regardless, she looked like the wind could knock her over. I'm going to have to start building a narrative before Father casts our entire house into ruins. Doesn't he know how hard I've been managing our reputation after our sweet little Fatii got herself institutionalized?"

Fatimah swallowed.

"Don't be such an uptight bitch," Zayed laughed. "I'm sure Father has a plan for introducing her." His smile broadened. "I like her already. She's exquisite. I didn't think Andüsans could look like that."

Fatimah felt her stomach sour. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing for you to worry about." Zayed patted Fatimah's head like she was a mere pet. "I'm just saying, Father chose a gorgeous bride. And I've never seen him care about a woman like that. It just makes you wonder"—browns weathered—"how special is this Inayah."

• — • — • — • — •

Fatimah continued perusing the enchanted mirrors. I should've known when Zayed saw you, it meant he was interested. Everyone knew Zayed had dates, and Father never cared as long as he kept it clean in the public eye. But the more he kept being the perfect 'stepson', I should've known.

She stopped before one mirror that had been curtained and came with its own warning plaque:

WARNING

MIRROR CAN CAUSE EXTREME DISILLUSIONMENT

PROCEED WITH CAUTION

Fatimah toyed at the rope to pull the curtains apart before drawing them back quickly. The old mirror looked nothing special. No oddities were in her reflection. When she turned around, nothing had changed. She was simply staring at herself, a fiercely determined young lady.

Am'mah Soorya, 'Amm Mohammed—I won't let your help go in vain, she determined. I'll use everything I have to see this through until the end.

"Your mother was someone so dear to me." Sooraya's words whispered in her ears. "That fire she died in was no accident and you need to know you were right. You've inherited everything good in your mother, including a gift she left for you. You must use it. You can feel it in your heart—how much you need to be around Inayah and protect her."

Deep browns turned contemplative. If Am'mah Sooraya told me I'm right, then she has to know why Mama was killed in that fire. Father told those people Mama had something she refused to give up. But I can't understand what.

She sighed and looked down. "Mama… I wish you were here. I just…need you to tell me I'm doing the right thing. And tell me what you left for me." She looked up—

Deep browns clashed with chestnut browns.

Fatimah could not believe it as she looked at the woman in the mirror. She stood with grace and refinement only high-class nobility could rival. Reams of dark brunette hair were over her shoulders and her right dimple and laugh lines were prominent as she smiled.

Fatimah whispered, "Mama?"

Her mother's smile widened.

"I…" Heat backed Fatimah's eyes as she rapidly blinked, words not coming out. "I-I don't…!" The dam of her emotions cracked under the pressure, but it would not break. Not here. Not now. She looked back at the reflection of her mother and said the words she had been longing to say. "I'm sorry."

Her mother nodded.

"Fatimah!" came an irate call.

Fatimah's heart nearly stopped. Haya. She put aside all her grief and yearning to look at her mother and forced down every word she wanted to share for a few sentences. "I-I don't know how you're here or why you're here, but I need you to know I know the truth. And Am'mah Sooraya does too. She told me you left something for me. Can it help me escape with Inayah?"

Her mother nodded.

Fatimah persisted, "What was it? Wh-Where is it—?"

"Fatimah!"

She looked at the exhibit entrance in a mixture of fear and alarm. She's coming too close. "Mama"—she turned back to the mirror—"what did—?"

Blue tourmaline.

A different woman was in the mirror now with her black abaya and niqab. She belonged to the Wastes as the churning dunes and winds of sand swarmed around them both, a woman's wailing song woven. But she looked at Fatimah with those jarring blues—

"Fatii!"

Fatimah closed the curtains with a ragged breath and slapped on a smile when she saw Haya storm into the exhibit. "Y-Yes?"

Haya huffed, accusatory. "Come on. We have the press here and they need to take pictures. You know I hate to be kept waiting and—" She narrowed her eyes at her sister. "What were you doing in here?"

"It's called an 'art center', Haya, so, naturally, I'd look at the art," Fatimah snarked. "Give it a try some time."

Haya raised a manicured eyebrow. "I'm going to overlook your disrespectful tone of voice because I don't have the luxury of scolding you when we have a shoot to get through. So let's go."

"Fine." Fatimah followed her elder sister, but she chanced a backward glance at the curtained mirror. I know that could've just been Magic. But it could've been a sign too. Mama left something behind to help me free Inayah. She gripped her pants. I just need to find it.

---

CHIROCHIRO!

The flames burned into existence when the cloaked stranger passed, but it was almost as though the flames were hesitant to light. Even so, once the cloaked stranger had passed by them, they killed themselves and sent their portion of the tunnel back into darkness.

DOTADOTADOTA!

He walked without fear and did not notice how all the life clinging to these tunnels withered and died upon his arrival. It was nothing new. He could feel nothing from their Life therefore he paid no attention to it. He continued walking—

He stopped.

He looked down and saw tiny grains of earth vibrate.

The entire tunnel lit up with the torches burning bright, excited.

Dust and dirt loosened from the ceiling as the vibrations worsened into an almost earthquake—

DON!

BOOM!

The explosion throttled him backward and he knocked off indignant torches that got their revenge back by lighting parts of his cloak aflame. But this attacker refused to give him a moment to breathe as a beam of burning light seared his chest. He grunted when something dark warped on his chest and a black skull burst forward and opened its mouth to consume the attack on behalf of its master.

The attack died.

Dirt and debris settled in unbreathable fumes.

He nor his attacker made any sudden movements.

His cloak burned.

Hands smashed into fists. "I finally found you."

The fumes dispersed in a violent gust and showed Gale at the other end with his Wild burning with the need for blood in his eyes. Half-man, half-Dragon—all fury. His teeth were hidden behind his mask, but his snaking vines around his arms showed how much he wanted to whip this son of a bitch until he saw his spine.

Large hands were forced to undo the cloak and let it hit the ground for flames to eat. That bandage covered Hemlock's eyes as he drew to his full height. But his cloak had never been something for him to keep his identity safe. Skeletal souls of the damned clung to him, yearning for him to join them or begging for a body. But it sounded like a lullaby to him.

Hemlock readied himself. "I don't even know who you are."

"Don't worry." Gale's muscles coiled. "You will."

They both attacked first.

Hemlock's damned skeletal souls moaned as they raced for Gale, eager for a body, but Gale rushed ahead and unleashed Diamond Bullets to raze them down with his vines lashing out to rid the rest, but he was stopped when he saw more skeletal souls come from behind to cling to his ankles, rasping in their guttural Dark Tongue. He snarled, unable to shake them off, but when he saw Hemlock about to make his escape, his vines lashed out to whip around Hemlock and drag him back. Gale shifted, and the earth launched up as his Magic cloaked him and—

DRDRDRDRDRDRDR!

Gale dragged Hemlock with him as he drilled into the earth with Hemlock bashed around. His skeletal souls protected him with a few reaching out to consume Gale, digging their teeth into his arms and legs to try and drain his Life. Growling, Gale spiraled as his vibrations reported back a chamber below him—

DON!

Gale and Hemlock crashed from the ceiling with Hemlock's damned souls saving him and Gale twisting his body like a cat and the earth turned to sand to break his fall. Heavy pants left them both as they stared at each other. They had fallen into what looked like an emergency supply center with crates and silos full of grains and nonperishables, a reservoir for the day the Wastes could not provide.

And round two began.

Hemlock's damned souls launched like an army, but Gale sucked in a breath and let out a bellowing roar of earth, leaves, and gems that speared through the dead, but his eyes caught Hemlock surfing a bridge of cempasúchil (marigolds) to round him from the back, but he snapped off his roar for his vines to thicken and whip out to break apart Hemlock's bridge. Hemlock was too quick and descended upon Gale with a hurricane of cempasúchil and at the same time, Gale roared a leaf storm—

DON-DON!

Hemlock barely kept his ground as poisoned leaves cut across his skin and body while Gale coughed and struggled to free himself from his marigold hurricane. The overwhelming scent of wet hay musk drowned out his senses to the point where his nose bled, and his vine recoiled like hissing snakes. He struggled to pull together his powers and looked—

Red-hazels.

Fear rooted Gale as he looked at the storm of marigolds to see a corpse try to reach through, decaying and drenched with Death. "Why didn't you die instead of me?"

Panicked, Gale roared as a leaf storm hurricained around him and dispel the tornado of marigolds. He had no room to think when vibrations tickled his feet, and Hemlock descended on him with a punch that would have cracked his skull had Gale not ducked in time and the force of the blow blasted three crates.

Hand-to-hand combat it was.

Fighting against Gajeel and Panther Lily was not just an honor—it was a necessity. Gale's agility training paid off as he evaded devastating blows, but his feet calculated every vibration and he shifted in anticipation of the next incoming attack. His own blows back were few and far between, but he managed a series of lightning-quick jabs to Hemlock's gut when Hemlock's arms swung—

FWOOM!

Gale's skin prickled as vibration cloaked him. Scales climbed around his neck as Hemlock's fist came down—

BAKI!

He would have died.

The throat punch had Gale thrown back, tumbling, and he crashed through two crates for his back to hit a forklift and blood sputtered out when he fell to the ground. Without his scales, he would have most certainly had blood filling his throat and condemning him, but as he fell to the ground with pain rearranging his insides, those damned souls swarmed him as they greedily opened their mouths to try sucking every last drop of Life from him. He growled, swiping at him with his claws, but this pain! It was too much—

A heavy hand scooped down to claim Gale's throat and dragged him up like a ragdoll to smash his back against a silo. He clawed and growled as a dizzy spell filmed his mind and his ears rung. He spat, "Let go of me!"

"I don't think I will." Hemlock might have had the upper hand, but the cuts from the leaves seeped poison into his body and ate away his Curse. Even with that bandage over his eyes, he leaned close and took a deep inhale of Gale—

Hemlock paused. He smells like…

Gale hissed when Hemlock leaned closer. "Don't fucking—!"

"You smell like her."

Hemlock's smile would be in Gale's nightmares.

"It's faint, but it's there." Hemlock inhaled again. "I can smell her on you. That's why you smell exquisite." He pressed harder on Gale's throat. "Invel won't let me see her, but I need her. You must be close to her, so tell me"—they were centimeters apart—"where is she?"

Gale teared up when Death flooded around him, greedy and musty. The souls of the damned paraded, trapping him, and he could hear their echoing whispers need her need her need her reach into the recesses of his mind. He floundered against Hemlock's hold, fighting for breath. "I—will never—tell you," he choked in a growl. "You raped her—" His words were sucked out of him when more force piled onto his throat.

Hemlock watched Gale's face pale. I see now. They must be close if she told him about me. And he's come for revenge. His scales and his power—he must be one of the new Dragons Invel told us about. He took another deep inhale and could feel her Life tempt him, but he took a lungful of Gale's scent. I've never taken the Life of a Dragon before. He's powerful. He'll sustain me until I can find her again.

Gale's eyes bulged and he yelped from the unexpected intrusion on his chest. He could feel his essence sucked out of him no matter how much he tried to goad his powers to defend him. But his powers were intact. They were not being stolen. It was his Life being drained. He's going to kill me! His claws thrashed. No!

His claws raked Hemlock's face and connected with bare flesh—

• — • — XX — • — •

"It's okay."

The world was nothing more than blurs. If something did not live, it did not exist in my vision. But Life could be seen. It was all around me with its faint pulses and threads, mere scraps that the moaning presences flocking me would still fight over. But not her. Never her.

Because she was filled with infinite Life.

Her whimpering and trembling beneath me made me feel more alive in all these decades. When I licked her tears, I wanted to groan. How could her tears be so sweet and filled with Life? She was my antithesis. She was my answer. I buried my nose into her neck and could feel blood drive down to my cock the more I tasted that pure Life from her skin. I had tried so hard to be gentle, but all of Invel's warnings and Naseer's words no longer existed.

I needed to drown in her.

"Shhh, Your Highness, it'll be okay," I soothed. Every centimeter of her was smooth and soft like she had been made for me. Invel's long talks of him stressing she needed to be untouched—I didn't care anymore. With every breath and taste, her Life drew me in for more and my cock strained against my pants. I couldn't survive with those meager baths anymore and those wet explosions when she came.

Her skirts were easy to lift and my nose carried me to that mouthwatering scent between her legs. I knew I should've been more careful with her panties, but the most I could handle was pulling them down enough until my mouth covered between her legs. It was cheap to inhale Life this way, but it was the easiest method to satisfy the craving the Damned and I had constantly. But my mouth exploded with her taste and my cock jumped, eager. She was so perfect, even as she shook and sobbed. So obedient.

She was everything.

I knew where to lick and tongue until I could feel all the Life within her stir and bubble. Never had someone shattered so intensely under me and her gushes tasted like everything I could've hoped for. The Damned were hissing in pleasure as they tasted her through me, pushing me for more more more, and I needed it to. Her tastes had been a tease. I'd managed the cravings, but she would never let me go hungry again.

I sat up and started undoing my pants. "It'll be over soon, Your Highness," I told her when she held in her cries. "I'll tell Invel you were such a good princess. Her Majesty will be so proud of you."

She kept crying.

I needed more.

When my cock broke free, I stroked it and could feel precum leak over my hand. The Damned moaned, begging for more Life, and my blood heated as I covered her with my body. I just needed more. I needed to consume her. She was the Life to my Death. How could anyone be so perfect? I lined myself up with her and hissed when I brushed my head over her heat. She was so small. I didn't want to break her, not when I needed her so much. The Damned urged me for more, but I shoved back that if I shattered her, there would be no more Life for them to taste.

They quieted, waiting in anticipation.

I slowly pushed and the resistance was there. I just needed a little more and I'd be sinking into her Life—

• — • — YY — • — •

ZUTA!

Hemlock let Gale go with a shout when those claws cut down his bandages and over his nose and cheek—

BAA…

The second Gale dropped to the ground, he threw off his mask to retch everything he had eaten today with his body violently shaking. Tears splattered onto the mess as his stomach gurgled and he retched again from the intrusive emotions trying to merge with his own. That overwhelming Lust toiled with his sheer nauseous disgust and rage, and his body felt disgusting to be in. The present glitched with the past. For one moment, he was here, spewing his guts and hating everything, and in the next, he was Hemlock besotted and desperate for a child princess he needed as badly as he needed oxygen—

BAA…

Gale hacked when nothing more could be coughed up and he did not want to look at the unwanted bulge in his suit born from feeling that sickening Lust. He choked, "You…monster—!" He gagged as he tried to suppress another bout of nausea and tears. "You fucking raped her—!" He could not control it and spat up again, shivering. Crumbling to the ground, he half-snarled and half-cried. I could feel everything he felt. He was… I was…

"Please stop it!" He was on top of Luna as the steam from the bathtub misted between them, and her cries spurred him on as he nudged his erection between her legs. But the perspective shifted and now he was Luna as she thrashed when a large hand parted her legs further. "Stop it—!"

Gale choked on his spit-up and squeezed his eyes shut to stop his tears. Blondie… I'm so, so sorry…

Hemlock covered his bloodied face, raggedly breathing. "My bandages!" The souls of the Damned cloaked him and he shot up with marigolds spiraling around him. The souls reached out to bust a hole into the ceiling to help their master escape.

Gale weakly growled, "N-No…!" But pain shot up from his stomach and he curled in on himself, hiccupping. No… I can't let him…get away… He squinted in his glare at the hole in the ceiling and lamely reached for it when agony shot up his arm and it dropped. "No," he gasped out. "Have to…stop him… Blondie—" The tears raked his cheeks. Blondie… Luna… I just… Nausea returned as though punishing him.

Shhh… Rest now, Little Gem.

A mother's love smoothed out the warring tides of grief and hatred within Gale. He could smell the sleepy lavender Sycaña carried with her, rocking him like he was a babe all over again. The toiling and contradictory emotions roaring in his heart and mind muted for Sycaña's purring to brush over him. Maybe his hysteria was why he thought he could feel her physically hover over him with her smooth scales and breath nudging him as though tucking him into a nest.

"Sycaña…" Gale coughed and tried to stay awake. "I-I have to…"

"I know."

Gale's blurred gaze was shifted to meet affectionate violets. A woman hovered over Gale with her scent so comforting and warm that it felt like a fever dream she could be real. Her skin was darker than his and flowers interwove with her locs.

"Sleep now, Little Gem," the woman coaxed as his vision darkened. "I will take over now."

And as that purring and lavender nudged him, Gale breathed out once more as he succumbed.

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

"Mom."

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — XX — • — • — • — •

"Gale?"

I guess I had fallen asleep again because the credits to that god-awful MCOM movie are playing, and I am secretly grateful I dozed off. I stretched out and say, "Sorry." I nuzzle her head and inhale that intoxicating perfume. "Fell asleep again."

She smacks my chest. "Please. You deliberately fell asleep."

I chuckle. "C'mon, Blondie, it's not my fault your cute little nostalgia-lenses Magia movies are boring as fuck."

"Hey!"

I hush her up by pulling down and claiming her lips. She still tastes sweet from her cookie dough ice cream, and I want to lick it off her lips. But her cute as fuck giggles make me smile and I pull back to drink her all in. Part of me wants to make a stink I never see her anymore with how busy she is with university and dance and her Healer's studies, but fuckin' A, does she look beautiful. The second she had come inside my house, I had immediately de-pinned that tight ballerina bun so I could run my fingers through her hair.

How is she so perfect?

She gets all shy and flushes. "What are you looking at?"

"Am I not allowed to look at my girlfriend?" I tease, pulling her into my lap. I know she grumbles how she wants one more growth spurt since it's not fair with their height difference, and Hell yeah would I drink her in if she was taller than me, but she's so adorable and small and I love putting her on my lap. I kiss her temple and can't stop as I keep nipping and kissing her face. "I missed you."

"You saw me yesterday," she tries to remind me, but her voice shakes when I kiss that sensitive spot on her jaw.

"Yeah, and we had a quick dinner before you had to run off with Dante's boytoy." I grin when she holds in her whimper when my kisses end in soft bites.

She pushes me, and I'm one happy camper when she turns to straddle me with a firm pout on her lips. "You know teaching with Miss Diana is part of my credits and it's really cool I get to teach with the NBF's prima ballerina."

"Yeah, I know." My hands brush her sides and I live for her little trembles. "But that doesn't mean I don't miss you like Hell, principessa, you know that." I grumble, "And since I'm sharing you—"

She laughs. "You're not sharing me!"

"Then what do you call still living with Dante's boytoy?"

"I call it being smart since our apartment is near our university." She kisses my forehead, then my nose, then my lips. "And I told you. I wanted to wait until after I graduate." She sighs. "And hopefully, Igneel will have calmed down—"

"Ugh, don't talk about that asshole when you're in my lap," I complain as my hands slide down to her ass and I kiss her throat. "If he had it his way, you'd be in a fucking convent and I'd be six feet under. No, my ashes would be six feet under."

She simpers and moans when I keep pressing kisses and nips on her skin. "He's just worried—Oh!"

"Uh-huh." I'm too obsessed with scenting the want perfuming off her and marking her skin with as many kisses as I can.

"Gale—wh-what—!"

"Mmm-hmm."

"I need to—Oh…"

Call it 'male pride', but I'm fucking happy she relaxes into my touches and it's just her and me in our little corner of the world. Fuck, I really missed her and now I can't give the old man shit when he starts PMSing when Mom is away curing cancer or something. Yeah, I've got my own projects and studies and Jura likes to drop me in god-knows-where to test me, but she feels like home and I like coming home every day.

She can't take my kissing and she gets in her own teasing nips in and fuuuuck it feels good. Igneel has some belief I'm the one corrupting her, but she's just as bossy and demanding as me and Hell yeah do I love her telling me what's going to happen and doing what she pleases. I know she needs it. She needs to be in control sometimes to keep herself grounded and I'm more than happy she feels comfortable enough to tell that to me.

I keep her flushed to me when I get off the couch. Thank god I listened to Big Red having a guest bedroom downstairs. She had all these notions about it being friendlier and separating my space from my guest's space blah blah blah, but in reality, it's great for when Blondie and I don't want to hike it upstairs. I put her on the bed and pull back to look at her and she's such a masterpiece with those flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes. She's got all those muscles from ballet and she hates her feet for it, but I love that her passion has those physical marks because it means she's pushing herself to be the best.

I take off my shirt before I consume myself with her and lay scorching touches and possessive kisses and yeah, I know, hickeys are trashy, but I like leaving little bite marks in places no one but me will ever see. She's moaning my name and raking my hair with those nails and I pin her wrists on the bed because I love it when she needs me close, but she's going to drive me crazy before I can take my time with her.

It goes in a blur, and I feel like I'm in a sex haze. I don't know if I got naked first or her, but we're both sweaty and panting and her taste is on my lips. She's trying to return the favor, but right now, it's about her—my beautiful princess—and she can see where my train of thought is going. When she nods and widens her legs, I feel like a dirty son of a bitch for being so eager, but I line us up together and thrust home—

GISHIGISHIGISHI!

Her nails are on my back as we both groan into it. What I love about my princess is when I'm fucking her, she's fucking back, and it feels electric. My right hand is fine for a quick jerk off, but nothing in this world could ever live up to feeling her grip my dick and drive me closer. I kiss her lips before ducking down and biting into her throat and that flutter making me growl tells me she's about to cum.

"He's exceptional, Doctor."

Shadows are around us with ozone and that clinical sanitation mixing with Blondie's lust perfume. I'm trying to keep her covered and under me when I can smell other humans around us and I snarl at a pair of glasses leering at me from the shadows.

"Look at him!"

"Magnificent."

"He's perfect."

The voices make my snarl louder as the Wild takes over and my aggression permeates the room. White is all around us—white walls, white floors, white ceilings. All that cues me to the outside world is I can sense humans lurking outside and peering in her. I snap my teeth at them as I keep thrusting and consuming her and when I look down—

Pain.

She's shackled beneath me and on all fours, naked and flushed, but I can smell the salt of her tears. The Lust I thought was seducing me was bright pain as she bites down her bottom lip to keep from screaming. That need to mate mate mate withers and dies for the horror that the one person I treasure is afraid of me. Only growls and whines leave me. I… I can't remember how to speak her language anymore. I can think it, but I don't know how to move my mouth, so I keep whining and nuzzling her, but she flinches away from me. I'm purring for her, desperate for my Female to nudge me back and relax, but she keeps shaking and whimpering, her fear for me agitating my nose.

I try to pull back, but I'm horrified to see we're Locked. Tugging at it makes her sob, but my emotions are out of control, and I keep switching between whining and growling. I know I'm hurting her and I'm the cause of her pain, but every time I try to tug out of her, she's yanked with me and can't help her strained weep. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. How could I do this? I was supposed to love her and treasure her and now I'm the monster she'll remember who raped her. What did I do?

What did I do?

JJARA-JJARA!

Now I'm whimpering when I hear those chains come near me, but I'm torn between fear and aggression when I feel someone approach me. I don't have the right to touch my Female anymore, but I can at least protect her from the monsters outside this Room.

"I told you, Doctor."

I'm forced to look into emotionless red-hazels.

"He's the perfect experiment—"

• — • — • — • — YY — • — • — • — •

Someone closed in on him, and he snarled.

The scent of herbs was one he could remember, but he remembered Porlyusica and Wendy have that same scent of herbs and comfort—a Healer. But he snarled and struggled as this unknown person tried to calm him down.

"Wait, wait," came plea. "You're badly hurt! Please, I'm a friend; your mother came to get me to help you, please, you need to calm down or you'll hurt yourself more!"

Gale kept snapping his teeth, but it clicked for him belatedly all the words this unknown woman told him. 'My mom'? He looked up, but it was pointless when this wet cloth on his face blinded him. He sneered, "Who are you?"

"Your mother told me you've been looking for me." The woman sounded composed. "My name is Yara Sandström. And you heard correctly—I'm here to save Inayah and bring her home."

But mistrust balled within Gale as he kept his teeth bared. "Prove it."

He expected this "Yara" to sigh or snap at him that he simply needed to trust her. But it caught him off-guard when fingers hovered near his hands and she told him, "All right." And she clasped his hand—

---

— • — • — • —

Starry Sky nemurenai yoru nee aitai yo aitai yo

Kirameita ittousei osaekirenai kimi e no omoi wo

•

Gyutto dakishimete mou hanasanaide

"aishiteru" dake ga zutto kagayaki tsuzukeru

— • — • — • —

---

CHIROCHIRO!

The flames lit up as he walked on by with not a care in the world.

SUTA… SUTA… SUTA… SUTA…

He had a fine time letting his pumps clack against the brash tunnel floor. His waistcoat looked uniformed as always. All that lace and ornamentation were not proper for a man of the court.

He opened his mouth and recited jovially, "'Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, by the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore'…"

The flames flickered and showed his tophat had contained a glossy feather.

He continued the quote: "'Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, 'art sure no craven?'"

Shoes made no noise traversing the earth.

"'Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore'."

He twirled his well-maintained cane. And its handle had been burdened with a golden raven's head.

"'Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'" He pulled to a stop. Without losing a beat, he about-faced and twirled off his top hat with a gloved hand. His bow was balanced and poised, a true man of etiquette. "Quoth the Raven…" He looked up—

Cassowary, Swan, and Thirteen stood in the tunnel as the opposition. Cassowary kept his winged cane at the readied while Swan fanned out their feathered fan and their trophies were armed with Ethenators. Thirteen reached into his pocket for that golden harmonica.

A smile pulled back to show golden teeth. "Nevermore."

---

Voices of Characters in Order of Appearance

— • — • — • —

Dylan Bei / Bi Luo -

Bei Chunhua – Kelsey Asbille

Mara the Mogwai -

Fatimah bint Kamer Al Marwan – Summer Bishil

Sooraya Shah -

Inayah – Chipo Chung

Mohammed bin Saif Al Marwan -

Julia Fullbuster – Michelle Ruff

Gale Redfox – Greg Cipes

Swan – Kayleigh McKee

Thirteen – Mathew Mercer

Vinyl de la Muse – Alison Viktorin

Sycaña – Christin Auten

Zayed bin Kamir Al Marwan – Fady el-Sayed

Kamir bin Kwuyalid Al Marwan -

Hemlock – Alex Organs

Luna Dragneel – Brynn Apprills

Yara Sandström -

Raven -

— • — • — • —

Additional Voices

Opening Narrator – Mary McGlynn

Description Narrator – Mary McGlynn

Closing Narrator – Melissa Fahn

— • — • — • —

⌜OPENING SONG

⟪ SAYONARA DILEMMA ⟫

Vivid undress

Lyrics by

yu-ya⌟

•

⌜ENDING SONG

⟪ Starry ⟫

ClariS

Lyrics by

丸山真由子⌟

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•

•

•

•

— • — • — • —

Next time, on Fairy Adventure

•

Episode 145

•

THE KING: PART I

THE HEALER

— • — • — • —

•

•

•

•

NEVERMORE

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AFTERWORD

No Fairy Lesson this week, but quick updates:

(1) I do not condone any assault. There is NO justification. Admittedly, this arc has been one of the most emotionally taxing, and I can't wait for the next arc because it is a lot more lighthearted, has fewer risks, and I won't feel the need to take a 6-hour nap after editing a chapter.

(2) Fairy Adventure (2022 Revised Edition) is on AO3 (Archive of Our Own)! I plan to heavily revise the first three arcs of Fairy Adventure (up until Episode 020: Fantasia) due to my dissatisfaction with my writing from 2017. These revisions will be simulposted on FFN and AO3 and the FFN posts will contain a notice that the chapter has been revised.

(3 ) The Disappearance of Igneel Dragneel will be posted to AO3 in June 2022 and it will be cleaned up and edited.

(4 ) Get psyched for the Inter-Guild Training Camp Arc. The Shamballa Arc still has four emotionally taxing episodes left, but then we are off the training grounds of Mount Altana for another tournament arc, new characters, new character development and relationship changes, and most importantly, new powers. I can't wait to introduce you to the next cast and setting.

Thank you for your support.

じゃ、またね