Chapter 69: Have Some Faith!
Jezran woke up. He smelled the strong combination of sage and cedar wood, a scent that brought him back to younger days. He could remember the first time he experienced the medicinal, overpowering scent. It was a Wednesday at about 1:35 PM, she was with Makarov, her hair was the pink of ballet slippers and her eyes were the color of wine.
"Porlyusica," he said, before he opened his eyes.
He blinked slowly, and was not surprised to find himself in her abode. It was a circular room carved inside of a massive tree. Light from the forest came in through large windows. Bookshelves were carved into the walls—ladders placed around the room to help her reach potions and containers in high places. He was lying in a bed with an orange comforter, directly beside one of the windows.
"So, the fool finally wakes up," came the gruff voice of an old woman.
He sat up slowly, wincing as pain shot through his lower back. He pressed his hand against a bandage there.
"Am I to assume you have removed my kidney, dear me?" a smile flitted under his mustache.
"Of course I did," she snapped. "It's not as if I had a choice. It looked more like a charred steak than a kidney by the time I got to it. What were you thinking, Jezran?"
She stood near the bed with her hands folded indignantly over her chest. A woman several years older than him, draped in a mahogany cloak, pink hair pulled up in a bun, and a perpetual scowl on her face. Frown lines dragged on her cheeks, permanent marks of her generally bad attitude.
"To put it simply, dear me…" he leaned against the golden bedframe. "Syllestra was being used as a battery to power a machine. It was channeling magical energy from her heart through—"
"Pericardium 7," she said, her tone indicating that she was not an idiot.
"Yes. And if I removed her without changing the flow of magical energy, the machine would have discharged magic into her heart."
"So you channeled your own energy through your palm?" she scoffed. "Foolish. Had you been a millimeter off, the discharge would have killed you, too. And did you even know if the magical energy was going to discharge into one kidney?"
"I had no idea," he said honestly, "but I had hope, dear me."
"And luck," she said, disparagingly. "As reckless as always. You are possibly the number one reason I loathe humans, you know?" she sneered and turned her back on him, causing the cloak to catch in the air as she moved to her counter.
"I am aware, dear me." He chuckled under his breath, but his brown eyes soon became serious. "Syllestra…"
"She's fine." Porlyusica cut him off as she stirred a pot on the stove. "She was only unconscious for twenty-four hours. Within three days, she was back to normal, thanks to the medical attention of your Family."
"Ah, yes. I am surprised, dear me, that I am not waking up under my father's roof."
"You have Maki to thank for that," she said. She sat the ladle down and picked up a cup of water from the counter, which she walked over to him. "As soon as he realized he'd been duped, he boarded a train for Pergrande. When he got there, he demanded that you be released to come home. I told him that it was an abhorrible idea to move you in this state, but he was adamant that he return his children to their rightful place."
Jezran accepted the water graciously, then gave another light chuckle. "I am grateful, dear me. It is nice to wake up in familiar territory, as it is pleasant to see you again, Porlyusica."
"Save it, fool," she snapped. "I'd have been fine if I never saw your face again." Back to the stove to sir.
"Am I also to assume that we won the war?" He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Considering the continent has not crumbled, I deduce that the Nikolana Device was destroyed."
"So it seems," she answered. "The story seems to be that it was crushed, alongside that wicked man who caused this whole mess."
Jezran smiled and released a relieved sigh. "Thank Mavis… Then all is well, dear me."
The ladle paused. Porlyusica sat it gently on the counter. She stood still for a long moment, staring out the window in thought.
"No, Jezran. All is not well."
He blinked. The old woman turned to face him, her face as hard as stone.
"While it is true that Syllestra is safe, the Nikolana Device destroyed, and Resmond defeated..." she sighed and closed her eyes. "Listen, I'm not one to sugarcoat the truth, so I'm just going to come out and say it. Brace yourself."
Jezran clutched the orange blanket tightly.
"It's Dreamer…"
She told him what had happened. He listened, shoulders shaking slightly. Tears rolled down weathered cheeks. He stared at the blanket in his trembling hands. When she had finished speaking, he sat in silence, letting it sink in.
"I need to see," he said, hoarsely.
"You don't want to," she assured him, somewhat harshly. "It's not a pretty sight."
"Regardless," he pushed the blankets off and stood. "I must see my granddaughter."
"Fine, but I warned you." She tossed him some clothes. "If you want to traumatize yourself, that's your choice." She gave him a cane next. "You'll need this to walk for a while."
He took it, numbly. After a few short minutes, he was following Porlyusica into the forest…
The guild hall was somber. It had been for days now.
Lucy, Levy, and Kinana sat at a table, all three women lost in thought.
"How's Erik doing?" Levy asked, when the silence became unbearable.
"He's doing better," Kinana answered, resting a round cheek in her palm. "It seemed like he was going to lose his hearing at first, but it's been coming back to him. He had something like a flu for a few days, while his body was fighting off that snake-woman's venom, but he's better now."
"He and Gajeel seem to hate each other a little less," Levy commented. She tried to laugh. It came out as a strange grunt.
"That's because Gajeel saved his life," Kinana said. "Or at least, that's what Gajeel says. I think he embellished the story a little."
"Sounds like Gajeel…"
Another awkward silence fell between them.
"How's Mirajane doing?" Lucy asked the purple-haired girl. She knew that Kinana was doing all of the work that Mirajane usually did, which was no surprise given the circumstances…
"I don't really know," she answered. "I guess she's been staying with Lisanna for the time being. I haven't seen her much."
"What about Macbeth?" Lucy asked.
The other girls didn't answer. Each gave a pained look, unable to keep their gaze up.
"And Syllestra…" Lucy sighed. "She still doesn't know?"
"How do you tell a child something like that?" Levy asked. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
There was commotion as the guild hall doors were slung open.
"Can I get some help over here?!" It was Cana, shouting as she dragged in a stumbling wreck of a man.
"I got you," Max said, running to take the other arm of the man. "Geez, what happened to him?"
"What do you think?" she snapped. "He's been out getting smashed, now get him to his room!"
Max adjusted Piper's weight. The bluenette groaned in protest, before puking onto the guild hall floor.
"God dammit, Piper," Cana said angrily, though her tone was pained. "I know you're hurting but… Never mind. I'm just a hypocrite." She gave Max a shove toward the door before slinking away, herself, likely to clean vomit from her shoes.
"Poor Piper…" Levy watched as Max helped him outside. As Piper sobbed and stumbled the whole way.
More silence. It might have never ended.
If not for Natsu.
"Grrrr! DAMMIT! I'M SICK OF THIS!" The fire dragon slayer leapt onto a table, fists clenched, flames all around him. "QUIT MOPING AROUND!"
"Natsu!" Lucy stood up and slammed her palms onto the table-top. "Have some respect!"
"NO WAY!" He bared his canines at everyone who was watching. "All of you are moping around like someone died! I'm sick of it! Dreamer's NOT dead! So don't talk to me about respect, Luce! Everyone here is disrespecting Dreamer by not believing in her! She's going to get better, so HAVE SOME DAMN FAITH IN HER!"
He breathed heavily, eyes flashing with fury. Several eyes looked at him in shock.
"Natsu…" Lucy reached for him, with tears in her eyes. "It's not that simple… The chances of her coming back from this…"
"There's a chance, isn't there?!" he cut her off. "Since when does Fairy Tail give up before it's over?! I don't know who you people are, but you're not the Fairy Tail I know! The Fairy Tail I know would keep hoping and praying with everything they got! They'd believe in their members! Besides…" his eyes twinkled with determination. "Just think about how strong she is!"
They all looked back and forth at one another.
"I mean, she doesn't even have offensive magic, but she and Mac took down the King of Diamonds! And she's a Fairy Tail wizard! She's always been tough!"
"Natsu has a point," Erza said this. She stood up from the table she'd been sitting at, alone. "This is Dreamer we're talking about. The same woman who raised a toddler in the streets at the age of thirteen."
"And reformed an infamous Excalibur thug," Wakaba agreed.
"And a drunk gambler," Macao jeered his thumb in the direction Max had taken Piper out the door.
"She took care of big sis when Lisanna went missing," Elfman said, tears rolling down his face. "She was… so… manly!"
"And didn't she travel with Macbeth for three days when he was still a part of the Oracion Seis?" Happy added.
"Exactly," Erza nodded, "the same man who posed quite a challenge for me on Nirvana."
"Let's not forget how many times she's charmed Freed," Gray said, with a slight smirk in the green-haired man's direction.
"Not just Freed," Levy said, suddenly. "Remember when she charmed Master during the Fairy Tail race that one time, and got banned from participating?"
There was laughter. Real laughter.
"If that's not impressive," Evergreen started.
"She even charmed Laxus once!" Bixlow finished for her.
"And by extension, Mystogan," Freed nodded.
There were several more chuckles at the mention of Mystogan.
"That's right!" Natsu fist pumped at the table, determination on his face. "She's one of the most bad-ass women in this guild! So don't count her out yet! She can fight this! Especially if all of us believe in her!"
The mood in the room lightened, even if just so slightly.
Natsu's fist dropped and he nodded, satisfied with the result. He cast his eyes at the door that led to the infirmary, his face still set in determination.
"You can do this, Dreamer… We're all counting on you."
Jezran braced himself for what he would see. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting when he saw her. He was familiar with bruised and battered bodies. He'd delivered a countless number of them to his father in a past life. Because of this, he was expecting Dreamer's body to be unrecognizable. He was surprised to find that, besides some sickly green bruises and old scratches, she seemed healthy.
The young woman was laying on a bed in the infirmary, tucked in, eyes closed. Her skin was paler than usual, and bruises colored her shoulder and cheekbone, but beyond that, she could be sleeping. The shallow rise and fall of her chest indicated that she was, in fact, alive.
If it could be called that.
"Now's your chance," Porlyusica said at his side. "You can leave or, you can stay and help me change her bandages, but if you want my recommendation," she scowled harshly at him, "then get the hell out."
"I need to see, dear me…" his voice was quiet, but firm.
"Fine. But you can't say I didn't warn you."
She strode forward and went to Dreamer's side. She did a quick check on vitals first, holding her wrist, ghosting her hand over Dreamer's body to scan for any problems. Then, she pulled back the blanket.
Her torso was wrapped tightly in bandages, masking most of her injuries. Porlyusica directed him to help hoist her up. It had to be done carefully, because she had a punctured lung that was still healing, not to mention broken ribs. He watched in pained silence as the older woman began to carefully unravel the bandages around Dreamer.
"Now, carefully lean her back."
He obeyed, gently resting Dreamer's head on the pillow.
"You might want to pull out your handkerchief now, old fool." She had only to remove one last layer of blood soaked fabric on Dreamer's chest.
"I have no need," Jezran replied. "I have seen more than my fair share of gore, dear me."
"It's one thing to see the blood of your enemies, Jezran. It's another thing altogether to see the blood of your family."
Regardless, she finally—carefully, delicately, with all the practice of a skilled healer—removed the padding from Dreamer's chest.
Jezran realized immediately that she was right. A hole in the chest of a common street rat would have been nothing to prince Excalibur, juice-collector of the Family. But a hole in the chest of his granddaughter… It caused the breath to catch in his throat, and his eyes to burn.
Porlyusica had been correct. It was not a pretty sight. It was an open wound with torn edges, akin to what a wad of tissue paper might look like after a pencil had been stabbed through it. There is a reason human organs are kept below the skin and bone, out of sight, and Jezran realized it was because the sight of them makes one's entire vision swim with blood until he feels as if he were drowning.
"I don't understand…" he looked away after only a brief glance at the cavity, in favor for resting his gaze on her serene face. "Is your healing magic having no effect, dear me? Should there not be a hole in her chest at this point?"
"That's part of the problem," she answered, with a sigh. "Whatever pierced through her was enchanted with dark magic poison. It completely deflects any spells I try to use on it. The only purpose my magic has at this point is to manage her pain. The rest is in the hands of my skills as a doctor, which thank Mavis, I have an abundance of."
She threw out the old bandages and looked down at Dreamer once more. "However, to say that I'm solely responsible for keeping her from falling off the brink of death would be inaccurate. In fact, my abilities are so limited that, if not for this, she would have been long dead days ago."
"Dear me, Porlyusica, to what are you referring?" He finally looked away from Dreamer's peaceful face.
"Look," she snapped. She gestured carefully at the hole in the girl's chest. "Look closely."
Jezran narrowed his eyes. He could see the edge of Dreamer's lung beneath ribs, where Porlyusica had mended it back together. Her heart beating in the center.
Her heart.
It was hard to see, at first, what with how generally messy and red a person's insides tend to be, but there was no denying it now. With each dull thump in the center of her chest, there was a pulse of red light. And, upon closer inspection, it wasn't a fleshy, chambered organ that sat cradled in the core of Dreamer's being.
It was a lacrima.
"That lacrima is the reason she's alive," Porlyusica said. "Not only is it a makeshift heart, but it regenerates her blood as it passes through it, essentially filling her body with healing cells. It also seems to be preventing her from infection, because, given the number of open wounds on this poor girl's body, along with careless transport over a period of three days to Fiore, it should have been inevitable that she would get an infection. However, this lacrima seems to be keeping her system clean."
"Sânge…" Jezran said the name quietly, as he wondered how this could have occurred.
"You know where this came from?" Porlyusica asked.
"Not precisely, dear me, but I have a fair idea as to who it came from."
The old woman set to work re-packing and bandaging Dreamer's chest. "It doesn't really matter," she said. "The point is that, by some miracle, the woman is alive."
"How long will recovery take?"
She sighed, as if she was both irritated and exhausted. "Jezran, this is what I meant when I said 'all is not well.' Do you understand what else this lacrima means?" she shot her red eyes at him and cut him off before he could even answer. "Dreamer was impaled. Entry wound here, exit wound on her back. Thank Mavis, the spike missed her spine. Her heart, however, was not so lucky. If it had been, there would be no need for the lacrima. What I'm saying is that Dreamer was dead. For some unknown period of time, she quite literally had no heart. The brain begins to shut down after six minutes without blood. I don't know how long it took before your Sânge put this rock in her chest, but if it was more than six minutes…" She closed her eyes and released a long, slow breath. "She may never wake up, Jezran."
"You are suggesting… dear me… that she may be brain dead."
"Yes. And if I'm being honest, the odds aren't in her favor."
"You did say, however," he measured his sentences carefully, "that the lacrima has been regenerating her, correct? Then perhaps it is also healing her brain, dear me."
"That's too optimistic," she scoffed. "It's a lacrima, not a miracle stone."
"The miracle is not in the stone, Porlyusica…" He gave a warm, mustached smile as he placed a hand on Dreamer's cream-colored hair. "The miracle is in the fairy." A pause, "I am confident, dear me, that dearest Dreamer will make a speedy recovery."
"Hopeful fool," Porlyusica chastised. "Turned soft by a couple of children…"
He chuckled at this comment. "Dear me, Porlyusica, there is no need to be quite so bitter. Innocent children are supposed to, by divine design, turn cold hearts to warmer things."
"Not this heart," she scowled as she worked. "Innocent is just a glossy way of saying 'ignorant.' And I have no time for fools."
"On that subject, dear me—" he started.
"Don't you dare," she snarled, with all the ferocity of a dragon. "We don't talk about that, ever, you old fool, do you hear me? Another word and I'll punch a hole through your chest!"
"Oh, dear me, I understand, dear Porly." He chuckled again.
"And don't call me that! In fact, get out! Get OUT! I have to work on my patient and you're nothing but a nuisance! Take your foolish optimism and leave me alone! I don't want to see you again, do you hear me, Jezran?! The only reason I've tolerated you for this long is because I know how much you love these girls—but my patience has worn thin, so GO!"
He bowed low to the ground, in humble understanding. Before he left, however, he placed a bristly kiss on Dreamer's forehead.
He couldn't explain how he knew. He could just feel it. A hope. A light. Somehow, he knew that Dreamer was going to be okay.
A/N: Dear readers, I'm sorry for ripping your hearts out in the last chapter (pun intended). Thank you for hanging in there. ;)
Shout out to howlingwolvesonfire for being so astute. xD The fact that you could remember a single sentence about Dreamer regretting the trip, from chapters ago, deserves a cookie or something. *claps*
And Simana, you asked about Resmond's dark magic and why it cut through Macbeth's reflector. It's really due to the nature of his diamond magic, not the dark magic. His diamonds have the ability to absorb magical energy. By enchanting them with dark magic, they are also capable of carrying dark poison and making explosions. I had meant to imply that his diamond magic also affected his dark abilities. Essentially, the type of dark magic he uses is able to negate magic due to the absorbing qualities of his diamond-make magic. I imagined them as a two-edged blade. The qualities of his diamond magic boost the effects of the dark magic and vice versa. I wanted to toy with the idea of enchantment and alchemy, which I may do more of in the sequel. I hope that makes more sense? It's the type of dark magic he uses that makes him impervious to so many kinds of magic.