A/N: Wow... I would have never imagined when I first posted this story that it would end up with over 300 reviews and 100 followers. You guys have helped me reach an amazing milestone. I am so humbled and deeply awed by your love for this story. Thank you so much.
I appreciate the feedback about the sequel~! I'll definitely do a separate document, and I'll post a chapter at the end of this one when I've posted the first chapter of the sequel, to tell you that it's ready for reading, and where you can find it!
Now, for the final chapter of battle...
TRIGGER WARNING: I probably should have done this with the Sange battle scene, in retrospect, since it was so gruesome. Oh well, I'm not making that mistake this time. I don't know your backstories, dear readers, but I do know that there's some heavy content in this chapter, specifically centered around domestic violence *cough* Resmond *cough.* Furthermore, the chapter itself is written to be extremely heavy and emotionally jarring. Just take care when you read it, please. And, above all remember: as a rule, I wanted to keep the tone of this fic as close to the tone of Fairy Tail as possible. You can decide for yourselves what that means at the end of this chapter.
Chapter 68: For Rosy
In Pergrande, in the ruins of an ancient castle, a world-threatening disaster was breaking loose. The Nikolana Device, an ancient machine capable of causing earthquakes of monumental destruction, had begun its process. It was small at first—barely detectable tremors deep in the earth. But with each wave of power, the earthquakes grew in strength. Above this device, and above the black diamond machine that had cut it loose from its confines, in the highest room of the tower, three wizards were oblivious to the increasing magnitude below them. Even as dust from the tower walls began to fall, and loose rubble rattled. One wizard was strapped down by black chains, unable to be concerned with the earthquakes when his red eyes were glued to the motionless body of his comrade a few feet away. Black diamond tendrils were slowly encircling her, giving off residual dark energy like steam—dark energy that had made her succumb to an invisible magical spell. Above her, the third wizard watched, with his palms extended and curiosity in his electric eyes.
Dreamer:
Where am I?
It's dark. Everything feels sharp. She's trapped. A butterfly beneath the glass.
It's still dark, but she can feel her body again. She's on something hard, but not nearly as hard as before. Something familiar. Next to her is warmth and the smell of roses.
"Why doesn't anyone want us?" she asks. She can't remember why she said this, or who she's talking to.
"Well, lots of people don't really like to adopt older kids. They like babies and toddlers." Her sister answers. That's who she's talking to, of course. Big sister Rosy.
The age gap is large between them. Rosy is sixteen. Dreamer is nine. In many ways, Rosy is more of a mother to her than a sister. She can't remember her mom anyway. All she knows is Big Sister Rosy.
"Is it because I'm a wizard?" she asks. She's clutching Rosy's nightgown for comfort—for safety.
Rosy doesn't answer right away, so she knows it's true.
"Silly Dream," Rosy says. "Your magic is great. Though you could try not to trick people into giving us candy?"
They giggle and clutch each other close in the dark orphanage.
"Don't worry, Dream," Rosy whispers. "Soon I'll be old enough to take care of you and we can leave this place."
Dream.
That's right. Rosy used to call her "Dream" too. Too? Who else calls her that? Why does the name make her feel so… warm?
…
Rosy was right. They live together now. It's a little apartment, but it's perfect. It's perfect because Rosy is there. They have each other and nothing else matters.
Dreamer is ten now. She goes to school while Rosy works. She doesn't remember what Rosy does for work, but it's enough to feed them and clothe them and it wouldn't matter if it wasn't because they're together. That's enough for Dreamer. It makes her happy.
Rosy doesn't seem as happy as she is though. It must be hard on her. She's seventeen, raising her younger sister. She works really hard. She seems worried a lot. But she always smiles when she talks to Dreamer. Always optimistic—always certain that the future will get better. Every day will be better than the last, Rosy promises. She makes Dreamer feel better, even if she doesn't really mean it. Even if Rosy doesn't really believe that things will get better.
Dreamer is eating a mustard sandwich on the floor, since they have no table. She's waiting for Rosy to come home from work. It's later than usual. She's not worried though. Rosy will come home. Nothing bad could ever happen to Rosy.
Rosy opens the door and closes it and leans against it. Her cheeks are rosy red, like her name. Her eyelashes flutter in excitement. She swoons and holds her hands over her heart.
"Dream, you will not believe what just happened!" Rosy joins her on the floor with hearts in her eyes. "I just met this guy…"
Dreamer listens and chews her food silently as Rosy rambles on and on about this man she's met. She says it was love at first sight. She describes his handsome face and electric eyes, his deep and "sexy" voice. She says he's quiet and mysterious and doesn't smile much, which for some reason makes him more attractive to her.
Dreamer is happy because Rosy is happy. Her pink eyes shimmer with so much joy and excitement and hope. Dreamer's magic is young and raw but she can still feel it rolling from her sister in waves. She wants Rosy to feel like this always. She never wants her to feel sad again. If she could bottle this moment, these feelings forever…
But it won't last forever.
…
It's the day Dreamer meets him.
It's two weeks after Rosy came home talking about him and now Dreamer is meeting him for the first time. But before he comes, Rosy kneels in front of her and grabs her shoulders.
"Dream… I really like this guy," she says. Her round face is serious, her long, cream air is brushing Dreamer's arms. "But… He's not a wizard and I don't know how he feels about magic, so… Could you try not to use your eyes on him?"
Dreamer feels sad. Rosy wants her to pretend she doesn't use magic. But that's okay. As long as Rosy is happy. As long as Dreamer can use her magic to sense Rosy's joy, that's all that matters.
Then, she meets him.
Rosy was right. He's handsome. Something about him is stunning. His sharp features, his consuming yellow eyes. His hair is so dark and long. He politely smiles at Dreamer. He holds out his hand. She shakes it, uncertainly. For a moment, she thinks she can feel a buzzing between their palms, but it vanishes instantly.
"Hello, Dreamer," he says, and his voice is just like Rosy described. "My name's Res. Nice to meet you."
She looks up at him. She returns the sentiment, but… Something feels strange. She can't place it, but this man… It's not that she's trying to use her magic on him, or trying to contain it, it's that it doesn't matter. She feels… nothing. She doesn't detect happiness when she looks at him. Or excitement or… anything. Her magic has never failed her like this before. She doesn't understand it, but she promised Rosy she would keep quiet about her magic for now, so she does.
Nothing. He felt nothing.
…
Rosy has only known him for three months when she tells Dreamer the news. They are getting married.
This seems sudden to Dreamer, but Rosy is smiling ear to ear when she tells her. She's radiating that unspeakable joy that makes Dreamer's magic go crazy. So she doesn't question her sister. She congratulates her.
The wedding is simple. Resmond doesn't have family to attend. Neither do Rosy and Dreamer. It's simple but it's beautiful.
Rosy is perfect in every way. Her yellow dress, her long cream waves. She's more beautiful than Dreamer could ever hope to be. And there are tears of happiness in her eyes when Resmond kisses her.
Dreamer can feel the joy, the love, the overwhelming positivity that simply exudes from her sister.
But that's all she can feel.
She looks at Res. He is smiling. There are tears in his eyes too. And yet… Dreamer feels… nothing.
…
They live together for a little while. Now they can afford a home, a real home, instead of their little apartment. Dreamer was happy in the little apartment with Rosy though.
She feels less happy now.
It's not that things are bad. They're great. Rosy and Resmond love each other, or at least it seems like it. She knows that Rosy loves him. But after all this time, her magic still doesn't respond to him. Ever. At all.
But he's kind to Dreamer. He helps her with homework. He asks her a lot of questions. He learns that she is a wizard, and he doesn't condemn her.
"We finally have a family, Dream," Rosy says through tears one night, as she hugs Dreamer close.
She agrees because she knows that what Rosy wants to hear. That they are a family. And they are. Resmond is good. He's good for them. He's good for Rosy.
Yet always, in the background, in the recesses—the dark corners of Dreamer's young mind—she isn't so sure. Why does she feel nothing around him? Why doesn't her magic work on him?
She tries, unbeknownst to Rosy, to charm Resmond. Just a little. Just a tiny bit of persuasion.
But she can't. When their eyes meet, her magic fails. She can't manipulate emotion that isn't there.
Then the day comes. The day that would mark the turning point. The day when it would all begin to fall apart.
"Dreamer, I want to talk to you about something," Rosy kneels. Her face is gentle, serious, stern… sad. "There's a school for wizards that I'm transferring you to. It will be good for you. I don't know magic, and neither does Resmond. This town doesn't have any wizards in it. It would be good for you to learn and develop your magic. I know mom would be proud of that." She's smiling and Dreamer can feel happiness, but sadness too.
"The thing is, it's a boarding school. You'll live there during the school year. You'll come home for holidays and the summer, of course! You won't be all alone!"
But Dreamer will be all alone. She doesn't care about learning magic, she doesn't care about boarding school. She wants to be with Rosy. That's all that has ever mattered to her. But since Resmond came into the picture, Dreamer feels separated from her sister. She's being pushed away, she knows it. But it makes sense that Rosy would want to have time with her husband alone, without her little sister there all the time.
So, Dreamer smiles. She fakes her happiness the same way Rosy is faking hers. She pretends to be thrilled about this school. She smiles all the way until it's time for her to leave. She's smiling when she waves goodbye to Rosy, even though a feeling of dread has plummeted into her stomach. She somehow knows, as she waves to Rosy and Resmond, that nothing will ever be the same.
…
It has been a semester at the wizarding school. Dreamer has learned a lot. She can control her magic better. She can control moods better and has refined her ability to sense emotions around her. She hides the fact that she uses charm magic from her tutor, because she learns that it's illegal. It doesn't matter much, because the school teaches more about the history of magic and rules around it, than it does actual spells.
She still wishes she could see Rosy more.
Christmas break comes and Dreamer goes home.
Rosy is smiling as they talk over tea together. She's smiling, but Dreamer can no longer feel the same joy that she felt from her sister before. There's something else, an emotion Dreamer doesn't understand, swirling around her. It's something dark. It's something cold.
This is the first time Dreamer sees a bruise.
"Oh this?" Rosy touches the place on her arm. Dreamer feels emotions like shock and fear suddenly spike in her sister, but she maintains her smile. "It's nothing! I fell while I was painting, that's all." Her eyes light up, waves of excitement roll off of her. "Want to come see?"
Dreamer lets Rosy tug her into a back room that has been freshly painted.
With stars and rainbows. With a crib. With stuffed toys.
"You're going to be an aunt, Dream!"
Rosy is so happy about this, that Dreamer can't help but smile. She smiles despite the strange sensation that this is all very wrong.
Rosy is happy. That's all that matters, right?
…
The day comes. Dreamer and Resmond are in the room with her. Rosy is giving birth. Dreamer holds one hand. Resmond holds the other.
Dreamer tries to focus on her sister. Tries to be happy about the miracle of life occurring, but… She can't stop from looking up, across her sister, at Resmond's face. As always, her magic feels empty when she looks at him. It should detect something. Happiness, joy, fear, excitement… Something about his daughter's birth. But there is nothing.
Until Rosy begins to scream.
She screams and tightens her grip on their hands. She is pushing, she is crying. Her screams pierce the air, and for the first time, Dreamer feels something from Resmond. The strong surge slices through the air and makes the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
Excitement.
No, that isn't strong enough a word. The feeling that surround Resmond is more. It's… Euphoria.
Dreamer tells herself that it's because his daughter has just emerged into the world, instead of the alternative. She tells herself that there's no way he could be having such a strong, twisted reaction to the sound of Rosy screaming.
I was so stupid.
…
The next six months are a blur. Dreamer doesn't see Rosy often. She's in school again, but she tries to visit her and her niece.
Syllestra. Born with a head of black hair, as dark as Resmond's—but with wide pink eyes like Rosy's. Like Dreamer's.
When Dreamer does visit, it isn't happy. Rosy isn't the same. Dreamer never feels joy from her anymore. She feels only fear and… exhaustion.
I should have known he was hurting her. I should have done something.
But she doesn't. Dreamer is only thirteen. She's thirteen and she refuses to believe that her sister—her perfect Rose—could be wilting under the care of a wicked gardener. So, she ignores the signs. She ignores the scream of Rosy's emotions for help. She ignores the emptiness in Resmond. She ignores it all until she can't anymore.
Until it happens.
Dreamer is visiting. She's asleep in the guest room when it happens. When she hears the scream.
She stumbles out of bed and down the hall. Rosy's scream echoing in her head, followed by the sounds of little six months old Syllestra crying too.
"Rosy?" She's going into the living room.
And that scene. The scene before her. It will be forever etched into her memory. It will be a picture that she cannot burn or throw away because it will be forever stored in the darkest, most bitter parts of her mind. It will haunt her. It will replay over and over in her nightmares. It will label her a hypocrite. She can take away the nightmares of others but she will forever live with her own. She cannot rid herself of this scene. She can never unsee what pink eyes have recorded. This moment, eternally carved on the splintering tree of time.
Rosy is lifeless. Her body… Her throat.
Dreamer knows she is dead because, like with Resmond, she now feels nothing. Nothing from her sister. Nothing from Rosy. All she feels in the entire room is the terror coming from the baby who is laying on the ground. A baby crying instinctively for her mother—the mother she will never know.
And there stand Resmond with the blade of black diamond. With the blood on his hands. His yellow eyes are lightning bolts—not the beautiful kind that light up a stormy sky. No, these are the lightning bolts that cause forest fires, that strike dead anyone unlucky enough to be in their path. They are unfeeling, uncaring forces of destruction. They look at her—they cut her to the core and leave her splayed open, with emotional wounds that will never heal.
He looks at Dreamer and he speaks the worst possible words to hear after she has seen the lifeless body of her sister.
"Oh. That's all?"
That's all. As if killing her was a disappointment.
Dreamer isn't sure what pushes her. She is on the floor with her sister, with Syllestra. She is instinctively shielding the baby, instinctively facing Resmond as if she will fight him. As if she could ever win.
He reaches for the baby, but there is a knock on the door.
"What's going on in there?! Is everything okay?"
Everything is not okay. Everything will never be okay again.
Resmond blinks at the door. He looks at Dreamer, then at Rosy.
He shrugs, and he leaves through the back door.
…
The memory ends and Dreamer is in darkness again. The sharp, cold blackness.
I'm so sorry, Rosy. I let him kill you. I knew all along. I could have stopped him.
To her amazement, a voice replies.
Little sister, what could you have possibly done?
I could have told you, Dreamer thinks. I could have warned you.
Light forms in front of her. It is blinding against the backdrop of black. In it is a silhouette. An angel.
I wouldn't have listened, Rosy says. I told myself he loved me. I needed him to love me.
Dreamer considers her pink eyes. Cherry blossom pools reflect off one another.
I could have used my magic on him. I could have stopped him.
Rosy shakes her head. Her smile is soft.
You already know you couldn't have, Dream. Your magic won't work on someone who can't feel. There was nothing you could have done. You were just a child.
No, I—
She thinks. She replays the words over and over.
My magic only works on someone who can feel.
My magic only works on someone who can feel.
Resmond can't feel.
But what if he could?
"DREAMER!" Macbeth cried out, desperately. He had to get her to wake up. He tried to use his magic to manipulate something he could use to wake her, but it was pointless. His magic wouldn't work while the diamond restricted him. He could only watch the scene unfold.
Resmond dropped his palms. He continued to stare down at Dreamer's face—which until now had been twitching in expressions of fear as she relived some unseen horrors.
At last, she opened her eyes.
"How was it?" Resmond asked. "I learned that spell just for you, Dreamer. So that you could see her again. Really, it's useless to me beyond that means. Am I not merciful for letting you see your sister again before I kill you?"
"Resmond…" Dreamer croaked his name and stared up at those soulless yellow eyes.
Unfeeling.
Suddenly, she reached up and grabbed his face.
Macbeth's eyes widened in surprise as Dreamer pulled Resmond's face a little closer to hers, as she bore her pink eyes into his.
Her magic circles spun. She held her gaze steady. Focused.
"It's no use, Dreamer!" Macbeth jerked the chains and pleaded with her. "He can't feel!"
"He will."
Dreamer thought of everything that had happened since Macbeth joined the guild. She thought of all the excitement and joy and love that she'd experienced in that time. She thought of the anxiety that kept her awake at night, worrying about when Resmond would attack, what he would do. She recalled all the pain, fear, frustration, rage… She brought forth every nightmare she'd had—every image of Rosy's slit throat, every echoing scream. She pushed forward every feeling she had absorbed from everyone and anyone—every ounce of emotional energy that was stored up inside of her. She brought it to the surface.
And she poured it into him.
Resmond's eyes widened. He made a guttural sound, like something of a roar and a gurgle and a scream all in one. His boots caught the floor as he stumbled back away from her.
The chains binding Macbeth, as well as the bars around the room, all shattered. The floor groaned in protest as below it, the black diamond machine Resmond had created was shattering too.
"What is this?!" Resmond grabbed his head in both hands. "I'm being torn apart!"
"Those are called emotions…" Dreamer said, breathlessly, as she tried to stand.
"No, no, no, no… Rosy… Syllestra… Why am I? What is this?!" He was sobbing. His body was shaking, pupils dilating, as countless emotions battled in his mind. He looked around wildly, like he was seeing illusions—the nightmares that Dreamer had had and absorbed all coming to life in his eyes.
Dreamer and Macbeth gasped as a tremor shook the tower. The ceiling was beginning to crumble, stones and metal falling around them. The floor was splitting as well, now in a state of continual decay.
She took a pained step toward him.
"Feel it, Resmond! All the pain that you've caused so many people! Feel it tearing you apart like it did to the rest of us!"
"Stop this! No, please! I beg you! I can't take this! I'll do anything!" He screeched in terror, wildly flailing his arms.
"I want to hear you apologize," Dreamer said, dark determination in her pink eyes. "You owe it to her! Do it! For Rosy!"
"Rosy!" He was heaving, throwing up, shivering as violently as the walls of the tower when another earthquake shook them. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
Dreamer looked at Macbeth. Her expression was serene—completely at peace. She held her hand out to him, and he moved toward her.
This woman… He was in awe of her. What she had just done should have been impossible, and yet…
"Dream."
He walked to embrace her—to pull her into his arms and show her how proud he was.
"NO! Please! It hurts! It's killing me!" Resmond cried out. In wild, desperate panic he held out his palms. Suddenly, black diamonds erupted from everywhere. Diamond spears that shot from the ground. At the same time, the ground that Resmond stood on gave way. It burst down into the shaft of the chamber, and he fell with it. With the rubble, with the parts and pieces of his machine, he plummeted into the dark.
The collision of Resmond, rubble, and diamond, crushed down upon the Nikolana Device.
The earthquakes stopped. Resmond's screaming stopped.
Disoriented and confused, Macbeth righted himself on the unsteady floor.
And then he saw her.
Dreamer. Impaled by a black diamond spike. It went through her, through her chest and out of her back, and propped her up like a skewer. Her pink eyes were wide open, but totally unseeing. Her body limp.
"DREAMER!"
He ran. It was only a few steps. By the time he reached her, the diamond shattered—the likely sign that Resmond's life had ended far below. Her body fell to the floor in a heap, motionless.
"Dreamer!" He dropped to his knees beside her and pulled her into his arms. He didn't care that her blood soaked through his pants. He didn't care that the tower still cracked and swayed around them.
"Dream… Dream, please…" He tucked a strand of cream-colored hair behind her ear. He cupped her face and stared at her sightless eyes. Tears streamed down his cheeks—he was choking and sobbing, but he didn't care. "Don't leave me!"
Amazingly, as if inspired by the sound of his voice, her eyelids fluttered. Her eyes rolled, as if she were trying to see him. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
Macbeth…
She mouthed his name.
"Dream, look at me! You did it! You beat Resmond, Jezran rescued Syllestra, everything will be okay now!"
He squeezed her tightly. His eyes glanced at her chest, where the spike had been. He fought a wave of nausea at the sight of her insides… A torn lung, a bleeding heart.
"You can't leave…" he whimpered and slid his thumb over her lips. "I need you."
The corner of her mouth twitched in a smile. Her eyes closed.
And Dreamer's heart beat for the very last time.