Notes: And now for something different! ...Kinda. Anyway, this is the last chapter to really explore Gray's backstory. It might come up later, but it won't be explained in detail again. So if you have any questions, please ask!
~.~.~
VI. Ice and Darkness
When he opened his eyes, once again in his real body on Tenrou Island, Makarov didn't move for a long time, thinking of the past, of old battles and old friends, and of things he wished had gone differently.
But there was no point in thoughts like that, and he finally cracked his neck and gestured to the crystal ball sitting on a padded cushion on his desk. It rolled off the pillow and bounced down onto the floor, coming to rest in front of Makarov where he still sat in a meditation pose. He waved his hand over it, making it shine for a long moment before dimming.
A shadowy blur twisted in the center of the orb, along with a distant echo of indistinct voices and footsteps. After a few moments, the image within lightened and resolved into the face of a young man with three scars running down his temple.
"Are you alright to talk, Doranbolt?" Makarov asked quietly.
"Yeah, I've ducked out for a bit," the young man, Doranbolt, said. "It's rare for you to call like this. What do you need?" More dryly, he added, "Another kid with some weird power? More reports that need to vanish mysteriously?"
Makarov humphed. "What a greeting. You brats really have no manners, do you?" he grouched theatrically. "Why, I remember when it was your records disappearing mysteriously, Mest—"
"Yes, yes, I'm very grateful, Master Makarov," Doranbolt cut him off quickly. "Just don't use that name. I'll be lucky to ever see outside of a jail cell again if anyone makes the connection."
They were deeply unlikely to, of course. In the days of his… misspent youth, he had been rather free in the use of his memory altering magic — which had been the entire issue, in the end. Once he was marked as a problem by the Runic Order, it was only a matter of time before someone strong enough to resist his spells was sent after him, and the fact that none of his previous victims could remember his face wouldn't have saved him for long.
Enter Makarov, who had listened to then-Mest's sob story and agreed to help get him a second chance and a new identity. Some days, now-Doranbolt felt like he'd made a deal with the devil, given the amount of favors and not entirely legal errands he'd been "asked" to perform since then.
"You can relax, I don't need anything this time," Makarov said, apparently having had his fill of teasing for now. "Rather, there's something I think you and your squad should know. Were you assigned to the phantom tower incident?"
Doranbolt's eyebrow twitched a little. "So you heard about that?" he said without much surprise, even if the matter was supposed to be kept confidential by the Runic Order. "No, I wasn't assigned originally, but I know the details. Well, what there is to know. We didn't find much."
"Then you're looking into it," Makarov guessed. "I'm not sure how much use this will be to you, but it might be a lead. My old friend Rob had been following a theory about the connection between the phantom tower and the slave traders, particularly those dealing in children."
"Children..." Doranbolt repeated, his expression darkening — he remembered the reports, carefully neutral but painting a vivid image of the small bodies in the rubble of the tower.
As a workforce, children were far from ideal, even if they were easier to control and brainwash. But given the singular interest of Avatar, the purpose of using them was likely much more sinister. Children were malleable, especially in their magic. Placed under great strain, they could develop at an astounding rate — or break down completely.
Develop to what purpose... there was no telling. It certainly hadn't ended well for that branch of the cult, small comfort though that was.
Makarov nodded, equally grim. "He requested quite a few records from the order, I'm sure you can find out which ones. He disappeared shortly afterward, so I believe he must have found something that made him a target. I heard the tower is gone now, but you might be able to follow the trail to another cell, or to some of their contacts."
"I'll see to it someone follows up on that," Doranbolt said. His image in the crystal ball shook as he sighed and ran a hand over his face. "We have to make sure we hunt down every one of them, or they'll just keep coming back." He hesitated, swallowing heavily, and admitted in a low voice, "I think they're getting closer."
"You think they managed to fully incarnate a demon and it destroyed the tower?" Makarov asked, his hands clenching in his lap.
"I don't know. That place was so full of malice and half-collapsed spells that there's no way to tell what kind of magic destroyed it," Doranbolt said. "But there's another open case... We've been hearing rumors from out in the east, at the very edge of the Continental Ridge."
"On the other side of Pergrande?" Makarov said, frowning.
Doranbolt nodded. "That's why it's taken so long to hear anything, or to send anyone out there. There isn't even real governments out there, just local councils and the nomadic tribes. But we've been hearing about... entire villages being destroyed. There've been barely any survivors, so no one knows what's causing it. But what we heard... a horned giant that appears and disappears without any warning — and breathes destruction."
"...A demon," Makarov surmised.
"It's inconclusive, but Jura was sent out to investigate," Doranbolt said. "Well, he volunteered... He had some personal reasons for wanting to head to Land of Isvan."
"Gods be with him," Makarov murmured tiredly. "Let me know if you find out anything."
"Will do," Doranbolt said.
His image faded into darkness, as he closed his hand around the small communication lacrima he had been using, and finally cleared away completely. Makarov stared down at his own orb for a long time, before forcing himself to rise, joints creaking.
To him, magic had always been part of life — a blessing that was his family's legacy, that brought him many dear comrades, that tied him to his cute little students. But that blessing had an opposite side as well, a darkness that had to be fought over and over again without end.
When he was young, the battle had seemed glorious and full of purpose, if dangerous and painful. Now, when he could only leave others to fight, Makarov felt tired.
The battle that would never end — darkness that would exist eternally, as long as there was light.
But that battle was no longer his.
~.~.~
The continent of Ishgar was roughly divided into three parts. The western kingdoms, where the Runic Order was strongest. The far east, where the Yakuma had originated from. And between them, the northern frontier and the Continental Ridge.
North and east of Pergrande Kingdom, the land became broken up by mountains, another, taller range rising past every valley. The temperature dropped, the slopes became increasingly inhospitable. There were no nations or kingdoms on Pergrande's eastern border, only broad regions dotted with scattered settlements that gradually petered out as they drew closer to the final divide between east and west, the massive range called the Continental Ridge.
There were legends, of heroes and fools crossing the Ridge. Rarely on foot — even in a legend, no one could believe such a folly. On the back of a beast or carried by a god, the stories were more in that vein. That had been how the Yakuma, who had conquered both east and west, had crossed over — protected by their war gods.
No one knew exactly how wide the Continental Ridge was, or what, if anything, lay within it. The maps grew blank out past Pergrande's ambiguous, wavering eastern side, showing only the floating names of frontier regions.
The Land of Isvan was one such region, bordering the south sea that was passable maybe three months of the year — in a warm year — but still largely characterized by mountains and snow. Traveling there had been a quest in itself, even for one of the Runic Order's great Saints.
It had been the first place to suffer from the rumored attacks.
Rumored... was not the correct term. When he looked across the snow covered ruins of what had been a small town just three years prior, Jura had known the attack had been very much a grim reality.
The disasters had continued for three years after, all across the frontier, until the demon was supposedly vanquished in the far northern city of Brago. That aspect of the story Jura had yet to confirm as the journey was quickly becoming impossible in the late autumn.
Instead, he had followed another lead — tracing the steps of the one who was said to have finally defeated that demon. The crafter, Ur Krone.
Far from the Runic Order's reach, from his own contacts, and everything he was familiar with, Jura knew his investigations would never be thorough. He couldn't begin to judge what was suspicious, what was out of the ordinary, what hinted at something hidden going on, or even where the flow of magic had been interrupted.
Asking about Ur and her movements was much simpler, and simply following her trail led him deep into the mountains, to a narrow, overgrown path that ended in front of massive stone doors that were barely noticeable until you stood directly before them. The carvings had worn away with time and weather, but Jura realized immediately what kind of place this was.
Once, it had belonged to the dwarves. There was no mistaking their craftsmanship. But the complex, burrowing for miles under the stone, had been long abandoned by the dwarf tribes when they withdrew to their greatest cities.
Instead, the tunnels had been claimed for another purpose — a hidden place of secret research.
And, judging by the emblem painted over and over again across the stone walls, the Runic Order's suspicions had been correct.
"There's no doubt this place was used by Avatar," Jura said, running his hand gingerly along one painted emblem. It was cold and inert under his touch, but he pulled back quickly, rubbing his fingers together as if something might have stuck to him. "Most likely, they were the ones responsible for summoning the demon. But it seems to have been abandoned years ago. It was probably already empty when Master Ur was here."
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the reaction of his companion — or rather, the girl who had been temporarily made the Saints' ward due to her outstanding magical potential. There was little doubt that she would one day be strong enough to become a Saint herself, and unfortunately, she had nowhere else to go.
Now, more than ever.
Jura had volunteered for this mission precisely with the intent of bringing her along. He had called it letting her observe the work of a Saint, but his goal had been to create a reason for her to return to her homeland — and to see her mother again, even if she herself had refused it otherwise.
However, that reunion had turned out to be impossible. Ur was rumored to have defeated a demon, but she had done so at the cost of her life, and she would never be able to meet her daughter again.
There was no response from Ultear, and after a moment, Jura looked away again with a barely stifled sigh. "It's possible that the demon they summoned raged out of control and they fled — or died," he went on instead. "But given the descriptions of its size, there would be an obvious trail… We need to look around more, to see if we can find out anything about what happened and what, precisely, they were doing."
"...Understood," Ultear said quietly, giving a shallow nod.
"Be careful," Jura instructed. "There might be traps, or even just something dangerous that was left behind. Can you tell? This place has a strong malevolence lingering here. All the suffering they caused with their obsession has been seeping back over time."
Ultear's eyes narrowed before turning to sweep across the empty, abandoned hallway, trying to determine what he was referring to. It didn't take her long to begin to understand, even if there was no visible sign — not yet. "The cold here... it's very deep," she commented, ambiguously.
Jura nodded. The chill went deeper than bone, down to the soul. It was probably how all the victims had felt as they breathed their last and after, as their bodies lay abandoned in the ruins of their homes.
"We should keep moving," he said. "And... stay close."
This particular complex of tunnels had probably been an outpost for the ancient dwarven empire, something like a border castle. There were likely several more exits to the surface in other parts of it, along with one larger and more accessible gate. However, the main gate had likely been collapsed by the dwarves when they left this place, to conceal and close it off.
"Why would it matter if they hid it?" Ultear asked, after Jura explained this to her. "If they were planning to come back, they would have to clean up. And if they never intended to return..."
"It'll make sense if you consider it a little more," Jura said, though without reprimand. "Dwarves are sturdy, but they didn't come or leave by any surface road. In fact, no one is sure what's become of them because they so rarely come to the surface at all."
"...There's a road beneath the ground," Ultear realized. "Like the highways. Roads deep underground that link their cities and bases. And they didn't want anyone stumbling on that deep road."
"That's right. We'll go check there first. I want to see if Avatar used it at all," Jura said.
The entrance to the underground road was in the deepest part of the complex, though it wasn't hard to reach, guided by his sense of the earth and stone. The elevators and other structures in the wide shaft leading down to it had long since decayed and collapsed, but the auxiliary staircase, circling the wall, was still accessible.
However, there was no need for them to descend all the way down. Not even halfway, the walls of the shaft appeared to have ruptured open and flooded the shaft with rubble large and small, leaving it completely impassible. The entrance to the road couldn't even be seen.
"Hmm... They closed it off," Jura noted.
"They did that themselves?" Ultear asked in surprise.
"That's not a natural collapse," he said, still stroking his chin thoughtfully. "And the dwarves didn't do it, or they would have just collapsed this entire outpost. I suppose they might have been wary of what's down in the roads. The legends describe all kinds of monsters... But given the mindset of Avatar, that's hard to believe. Maybe they were trying to change the flow of magic..?"
'The flow of magic...' Ultear thought. True, the magic here felt different. Stoppered and stale, heavy but not cold and oppressive the way it had in the upper levels. 'There's less malevolence here,' she noted.
She pursed her lips, looking between Jura and the blocked shaft. "Shall I restore it?" she offered.
"There's no need," Jura said, turning away. "Avatar didn't go that way. Or they would have restored some of the elevators. It seems like they left behind quite a bit of equipment as well. So it's of no concern to us. Let's keep looking."
There were many other areas that had clearly not been restored, or used by Avatar at all. Jura mentally mapped them and focused their search on the small cluster of rooms and passages that had been occupied by the dark cult.
Whatever had forced Avatar to depart, they had done so while leaving quite a bit behind. Barrels of preserved foods, thin bed rolls and other bedding, many of the items of daily life that even the cultists had required were still stacked in the corners of empty stone chambers. Even more puzzling, their... research had also been left behind, at least in part.
Dark grimoires still lay on work tables and shelves. Sheets of magic circles and runes, some damp, some chalky, ineligible with decay, were scattered across every surface. Packages of rare catalysts had been left half opened.
"Were they attacked by someone and driven out?" Ultear guessed, her voice low.
"There's no blood, or signs of a battle," Jura said, just as quietly. Their voices didn't echo, the air too still for that. "And if they had died here... there would have been wraiths left, I think."
"Then... do you think they might have sacrificed themselves to that demon?" Ultear said. "I read about those kinds of rituals..."
Jura paused, considering her idea. "No," he finally judged. "I don't think that's likely. How much did you have a chance to learn about demons? The demons from the Books of Zeref are not physical things, not in themselves. They are... spells, which must use a physical vessel to manifest. However, any vessel they are summoned into is quickly destroyed from the inside by their presence. The stronger the demon, the faster the vessel's destruction. For most of the demons, they will manifest for minutes, if that."
Those minutes could turn the tide of a war, or bring down a nation, if used the right way. That is what demon pacts had always been — using every drop of magic at their disposal, some lost soul summoned a demon in a form of pure ether, for the short gap in time that they could support it. A last ditch, desperate gamble.
Whether they were considered martyrs or demons themselves depended on which side triumphed in the end.
"Avatar's goal, as best we can tell, has been to find or create more resilient vessels for Zeref's demons," Jura returned to his explanation. "To allow them to fully manifest, as it were. It's true that they often try to gain the power necessary for their rituals through human sacrifice... But there's one point that doesn't add up, if they all killed themselves to create the vessel they were researching."
"...How did the demon get from here to the town it attacked?" Ultear said. "No one saw it approaching. Unless they conducted the ritual there?"
"They may have," Jura said. "I would say it's likely, even. They finished the research to create the vessel and carried out the ritual elsewhere. Given their history, they most likely intended the demon to feed on the village to maintain itself. But that's not the issue. Remember, this demon attacked in many places, all across the north. It didn't travel between those places, and given the gap between the attacks, I doubt Avatar succeeded enough to allow it to exist for years..."
"They performed the ritual many times," Ultear surmised. "In different locations."
"Most likely. Each time, the vessel they created lasted only a few hours, if the rumors are accurate... long enough to destroy a town, and then the demon returned to its inert state as a sealed book," Jura said, his lips thinning in well controlled anger. "This is just my supposition, but they most likely used the leylines and the magic of the land to gather enough power for their rituals. So they repositioned in search of more viable locations... They might have even learned it from some records the dwarves left here."
This was why Avatar had to be eliminated, utterly and without mercy. He was the youngest current Saint, but Jura had already seen too many of disasters caused by the lunatics of the dark cult. Some incidents were small, simply allowing Zeref's Books to fall into desperate hands and observing the swift, brutal results, but some were like this — trails of destruction that went on and on until someone laid down their lives to put an end to it.
'If it hasn't reappeared in a year, that means Master Ur either destroyed the demon fully, not just forced its vessel past its limit, or she was able to take out all the cultists who summoned it,' Jura calculated. 'Given Avatar's... capacity for escaping, the latter seems unlikely. And if they're still out there, they might be able to acquire another book...'
They needed to be stopped, no matter what. That was the mission the entire Runic Order had dedicated themselves to. No matter what, Zeref's dark legacy and those who followed it would be stopped.
"In any case, they most likely had to leave their tomes and extra catalysts here to avoid being weighed down during travel," Jura said. "The same will hold true for us. We can't take all this back to Era to be studied properly, so let's try to gather the most relevant parts. I'll leave copying down the circles to you, while I look through the tomes and notes... the legible ones."
~.~.~
There was one chamber in particular where the magic and the malice gathered. The air was so frigid it stung in their lungs with every breath. Circular, with a ceiling so high it disappeared into shadows, there was no way to judge what original purpose it had served for the dwarves, but for Avatar, it must have been the main research room. Rough, mismatched worktables lined the walls, stacked with grimoires, scribbled sheets littered in between them, along with crates similarly covered. Ritual circles were carved into the stone floor and walls, converging around a spot where the stone had become cracked and blackened with the aftereffects of something.
Looking down at the discolored, damaged area, Jura frowned. "They kept something in here," he noted. "Judging by these circles... containment, but also magic extraction? The book, to keep it suppressed but to experiment on it at the same time, perhaps?"
Making his way back to the cluttered worktables, he picked up a few sheets of notes. Unlike the papers in the other rooms, which had begun to fade or blur or even blacken with mold, these were still in good condition. It must have been the magic in the air...
Jura paused, flipping through the sheets again. Pulling out one page in particular, he held it side by side with the others.
The paper type and quality, the ink, the handwriting and the contents, all were completely different.
His eyes narrowed as he tried to decipher the rushed scribbles on the mismatched sheet. They were magic designs too, but of a completely different discipline and purpose than Avatar's rituals. Where Avatar appeared to be studying various kinds of golem creation wrought large and earthwork magic, this was alchemy and…
'Spells to craft onto a weapon?' Jura thought. 'Could this be from Master Ur? Did she use this place to create the weapon she used against the demon? ...No, that would be too foolhardy for a master.'
Avatar's workshop was steeped in darkness. There was a certain power that could come from creating the weapon that would destroy them in the very lair of their evil, but it was a dangerous sort of power that would not be without backlash. Not to mention that handwriting...
"There was someone else here," he judged. "Someone aside from Master Ur."
Ultear pursed her lips, but her tone was unreadable when she responded. "Shall we confirm?" she offered.
The crystal ball she used as a focus rolled down her arm and onto her palm, magic gathering inside it before shining out across the cavernous chamber. Shadows danced across the walls, creating a visual echo of their surroundings.
For several long moments, that seemed to be all that happened, but slowly something changed. The overlaid copy of the chamber diverged from reality — small signs of neglect vanishing, a fallen banner rising up on the wall again, a thin crack sealing itself up again. A sudden, blinding flash made both of them reflexively shut their eyes, and when they looked again, the changes were obvious — additional magic circles had appeared overlaid with the ones Avatar had carved across the floor and walls, catalysts dotting them, and small silver markers were now lined around the still empty damaged spot.
Ghostly afterimages of an indistinct figure crossed the room, moving to and fro between the worktables and a couple of old crates, now covered in an assortment of materials and more scribbled notes. Several of the grimoires lay open, the open page constantly flickering to something else.
"This should be far enough," Ultear judged. "Let's observe this lost memory."
The afterimages began to stabilize — a vision of the past created through her time magic. The indistinct figure that had been crisscrossing the chamber finally solidified, the lines no longer blurred, though it remained faintly translucent.
As Jura had thought, it was much too short to be the famous Ur. Instead, the one who had once stood at the battered worktables, leafing frenetically through the abandoned grimoires, was a boy a little younger than Ultear, with the same dark hair and pale complexion.
"A child?" Jura murmured, frowning.
His eyes narrowing in suspicion, he turned away, focusing on the spell circles that were gone in the present day. They were complex, the details of the design too intricate for Jura to identify on sight alone. But even through the vision he could tell the frantic instability of it. Dangerous — this was the work of someone being driven by deep, twisted feelings.
"Gray."
The voice was distorted, as it travelling through a long tunnel. Turning back, Jura could see that a woman had appeared in the doorway, the pale, ghostly cast of her figure not quite hiding the concern and unease in her expression.
Ultear had gone completely still, if the resemblance had not been enough of a giveaway.
"What do you want, Ur?" the boy demanded, turning to the woman with a belligerent glare. Now that he had raised his head, the deep bags under his eyes were visible, as well as the slightly gaunt narrowness of his cheeks.
"Gray, you've been here for days," Ur said, frowning. "You need to take a break. And... I can't say I like you studying those things." She glanced sharply toward the stacks of grimoires and old notes.
Gray snorted. "Weren't you always telling us we should learn from every style of magic?" he said dismissively. "I'm just following your teachings, Master."
"You know that's not what I meant," Ur protested. "What these people were doing here is dark magic, it's evil. Nothing good can possibly come of it. You know that better than anyone! They're the ones who summoned that demon, Deliora—"
"They're the ones who would know the most about it then!" Gray shot back, spinning around to glare at her. "If there's a way to defeat it, it'll be here! I already learned more here than you ever knew!"
"About demons, maybe," Ur corrected him, her tone cool and firm. "But if you've already learned enough, then let's go home." She offered him a smile. "I want to hear about it. Maybe we can find a way to beat it now."
Gray shot her a rebellious, scornful look. "You already said you can't do it. You don't know how to make a weapon strong enough to destroy Deliora," he said. "So I'll do it myself. It's better this way. That's how it should be. I'll be the one to destroy it. I'll take revenge for Mom and Dad and our town!"
It was clear that Ur did not agree. She hesitated for several long moments, concern and uncertainty warring in her expression. Then, finally, she closed her eyes and let out a heavy, silent sigh. "It's been two years already," she said. "And I taught you everything I could. If you won't give up on this no matter what, I won't stop you. But Gray... Be careful. I don't want to lose another child."
Sharp and far more immediate than the distant, translucent memory, Ultear's gasp echoed through the cold room. The vision of her mother paused only for a moment, her gaze on Gray's hunched figure, before turning away and stepping out of sight.
Jura didn't watch or comment as Ultear instinctively rushed after her. Silently, he remained where he was.
Even if Ur's decision to leave her student — if that was what he had been — to his own devices, in such a clearly poor state of mind, seemed irresponsible, he understood. Sometimes, there was nothing anyone could say or do to help. Sometimes, you could only wait for them to make the first step on their own, whichever direction they chose.
Alone in the distant memory, Gray's shoulders trembled for a moment before he set his jaw and turned back to his work.
~.~.~
There was no point in chasing after only a vision of someone who was long gone. Ultear's voice caught in her throat, that reality hitting her again. There was no point in calling out or demanding an answer. Her mother, just ahead of her but already a year away, would never hear her.
Ur hadn't gone far. Something made her stop, just a little ways down the corridor, at the edge of Ultear's spell.
She paused, listening to something — someone — that Ultear couldn't see or hear, then sighed heavily. "I don't like it either," she said. "But what else can we do? Even if I drag him home, he'll just run away and start again. And it would break what trust he has left."
Ultear barely registered what she was saying. Even if there was no point, she couldn't stop herself from reaching out. Even if the result was obvious, she felt a sudden, sharp pain in her chest as her hand only passed through Ur's translucent back, the image wavering as it was disrupted.
She had thought she didn't care anymore, that she'd turned her back on her mother, just like her mother had turned her back on her. So why did it still hurt so much, to know they would never meet again?
The next words seemed to come from somewhere far away, only a faint echo. "It's not like that," Ur was saying, one year ago. "It left a deep scar on him. He has to see it through, even if he fails in the end. That might be the only way he can move forward. All we can do is make sure we're there for him afterwards."
What did Ur mean, that she didn't want to lose another child? Why had she abandoned her daughter? Or…
"That's right, Lyon," Ur said, her tone gentle even through the distortion. "Because we're his family now."
"M… Mother…"
The vision faded as Ultear lost control of her magic. Alone in the empty, cold hallway, she sank to her knees and cried.
~.~.~
The rare sight of Erza sulky childishly made Gray smirk. "You couldn't take a little cold? I didn't think you'd give up so easily," he couldn't help teasing.
Erza shot him a wounded, indignant glare. "I don't care about a little cold!" she hissed. "But it was sleeting. Everything was covered in snow and I couldn't even see the trail. I don't think there was a trail anymore. The dragon could fly over my head and I wouldn't notice it. I had to... temporarily suspend the mission, that's all!"
This was a perfectly reasonable concern, especially for Erza whose only experience traveling alone had been in Fiore's mild southern climate. Still, Gray made a point of nodding along as condescendingly as he could. "Yeah, that's gotta be really tough for you delicate western types," he said. "I mean, snow's so rare out here. Not like Isvan, where you learn to handle stuff like that by the time you can walk."
Sputtering angrily for a moment, Erza made a valiant effort to get her indignation under control. "It doesn't matter," she declared, straightening her back and lifting her chin imperiously. "It's fine even if I couldn't complete the mission. It doesn't matter at all!"
'I didn't say anything about the mission though...' Gray thought.
But if she brought it up, that meant it had been on her mind a lot. Gray could understand — he hated giving up or leaving anything half done, too.
"Well, you know, I could... help you," he suggested, looking away and rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. "Isvan's nothing but snow and mountains, and I've traveled around a lot, so I'm pretty used to it. I could probably help you climb that mountain. If you want."
He could feel the tips of his ears growing red with embarrassment, but, as he snuck a hesitant glance at Erza, it was worth it. She looked completely taken off guard, eyes wide in surprise. Slowly, a smile was beginning to spread over her face.
"A mission together? Let's do it!" she exclaimed. Then, pausing, she frowned. "Is that going to be okay? It's a mission for the knights."
"I don't think they're gonna care. They don't seem like they're picky about how you get things done," Gray said. "And it's not a secret or anything." Well, it better not have been one, since Erza had already told him all about it.
"That's true," Erza agreed easily. "Then, let's go—"
"In a couple days," Gray cut in quickly. Crossing his arms, he ignored Erza's protesting expression. "I bet half the problem was that you tried to go up in just your armor, right?"
By the stubborn look on her face, she really had. In snow and sleet, in just a blouse, a skirt and a breastplate... Erza was really something.
~.~.~
Tugging at the thick collar of the jacket Gray had provided her, Erza made a face. "I can't move properly in this," she muttered sulkily. It felt awkward and ungainly, and she hadn't even been able to wear Heaven's Wheel at her waist like usual, instead having to strap it onto her back along with their supplies.
"You'll manage," Gray said, without looking back at her. This was far from the first time he was hearing this complaint, and he'd given up trying to explain the logic to her. She hadn't been happy when he made them wait in one of the towns at the base of the mountain either, no matter how many times he explained that they were waiting out a blizzard.
Tilting his head back, he studied the clouds curling around Mount Zonia just a little further up the slope. He took a deep, slow breath and nodded to himself. Fiore was a little different from Isvan, but he was reasonably confident that the weather would remain in their favor — long enough to climb above the clouds, at least.
They would need to stop for the day soon though. It was almost dusk.
"There's supposed to be a ruin up ahead," he called back over his shoulder as they continued their trek. "We'll make camp there."
"A ruin?" Erza repeated. Despite being the steepness of the slope they were climbing and the thinning air — and carrying almost all their supplies — she didn't even sound winded. "Do you think the dragon might be living there?"
"You think it might?" Gray asked, glancing back dubiously. "I don't really know a lot about dragons. They didn't build anything themselves, right? A human hermit probably would live in some ruin around here. People are like that. But I don't think dragons are like humans... Then again, they're supposed to be closer to nature and magic. An old ruin on a sacred mountain is probably going to be built on a leyline, so maybe..."
Although she didn't really understand most of it, Erza let him talk — surreptitiously steadying him when he stumbled a little. The mountainside was beginning to even out a little, and as they crossed the next ridge, an almost level snow-covered slope opened up before them.
Even after what must have been centuries, the too even human-made form of step-like terraces were still clear under the snow. And the cluster of shapes in the middle of the widest terrace must have been the ruins.
As they approached, the shapes resolved into a rough circle of pillars and half-collapsed walls, all covered in elaborate markings. To Erza's surprise, the ground between them was bare of snow and, when they stepped into the circle, a faint warmth wafted up.
Gray nodded to himself. "Yeah, they definitely built here to tap into the magic of the land," he said, running a gloved hand over the carved stone. "...I don't recognize this writing at all... Well, it'll be a good place to spend the night."
He dropped his pack on the ground with a sigh of relief. Since Erza hadn't shown any signs of flagging, he'd pushed as hard as he could too — after talking big about how well he could climb a snowy mountain, he didn't want to be the one slowing them down. It was good to finally rest. Just in time too, as the sky was quickly growing dark and the wind was picking up a little, blowing snow across the slope.
"We probably shouldn't go much further, since we didn't bring a lot of rations," Gray started to say, digging into his pack. "Let's look around for another day or two, see if we can find those caves that are supposed to be around here. And if we don't find anything, let's turn back..."
He paused, realizing that Erza hadn't even moved, despite her usual efficiency in setting up camp. She had stopped a little ways off, and now stood looking at some of the rubble with silent concentration. Her expression was faintly troubled.
"What's wrong?" Gray asked as he made his way over to her. "Something strange?"
"It doesn't match," Erza said, a frown tugging at her lips. "There, that part, and that."
She pointed at two of the carved stones that lay at the base of a muraled wall that was surprisingly mostly intact. No, that wasn't right — a portion of it was intact, showing what looked like a great beast breathing flames down on something that had been on the far right, there the rest of the stone was broken away.
Compared to the muraled wall and the flat stone platform beneath it, the two pieces Erza had pointed out looked more like parts of a pillar, covered in what Gray assumed was writing. Craning his head around, Gray couldn't see any similar sections nearby.
'Did... someone bring them over?' he wondered. 'Why?'
He took a slow step back, then another, and it finally clicked what the piled stones reminded him of.
"It's like a throne," Gray said in surprise. He turned, looking in the direction someone sitting there would see. Even in the near dark, the view was impressive — the entire southern slope laid out in front of them, including the winding path Gray and Erza had taken, on the far right. The pillars in that would have blocked it had been broken almost down to their bases, he noticed.
"Does that mean someone comes up here? Do you think they'd know if there's a dragon here?" Erza asked, her mind turning immediately toward the mission.
"A hermit?" Gray suggested dubiously. "But everyone in the towns kept saying how this place is sacred and how dangerous it is and how we shouldn't come here... It's strange if someone is really living here. Well, I guess these might have been moved a long time ago. The magic in the ruins would keep most of the weather out, and... Erza?"
She had suddenly gone still, her eyes narrowing.
When Gray tried to ask again, she held up her hand, silencing him. "There's something out there," Erza said quietly. Her eyes swept the slope and the sky, her expression growing tense and she edged back toward Gray. "Stay close."
He hadn't seen or heard anything, but he couldn't deny Erza's senses were better. Not just sight or hearing — this time, she hadn't seen or heard anything either — but also her sense of danger and of being watched.
It prickled at the back of her neck and made her tense, her hand edging toward her sword, the instinctive certainty that something was out there in the darkness. Something large and powerful and very cold. She swallowed, her heart speeding up as those instincts screamed—
'Behind!'
She spun, halfway to drawing her sword, but the sight that greeted her made Erza abandon any intention of fighting. It wouldn't do them any good, she had learned down in the caves under Crocus.
Because towering over them as it rose from behind the ruins, dark and silent as the night, was a black dragon. A living dragon, its maw opening slowly and turning toward them.
Another person would have frozen or hesitated. But that kind of reaction had long since been ground out of Erza, any surprise shoved away before it could even surface. She dashed, tackling Gray around the waist, before he had a chance to react at all.
With a deafening crash, the dragon's tail slammed into the ruins where they had been standing, sending stones large and small flying.
'It's an enemy after all,' Erza realized distantly.
She was already tugging at the straps of her pack as they hit the ground, cutting it loose and letting it tumble away, leaving only Heaven's Wheel on her back. Her mind was racing, considering and discarding possible escape routes. Could they try to hide in the snow? No, a dragon's senses were probably too sharp to lose so easily. They couldn't hope to overtake it on foot either.
'It'll be rough, but there's no choice,' she thought.
Rolling to her feet without losing a moment, she dragged Gray after her and cut straight toward the edge of the terrace. Her eyes darted back over her shoulder, all her attention behind them. The dragon was slow to turn — not because it couldn't go faster, but because it saw no need. She could read the deliberate toying in its movements.
"That's— that's a dragon! A real dragon!" Gray gasped, caught in his own shock but at least following her instinctively. He stumbled, tripping, as he stared over his shoulder.
The dragon was straightening, spreading its massive wings. Moonlight caught on its paler belly and the markings across its arms and wings, giving them a blue sheen, but the rest of its form blurred against the dark sky.
A single, torpid flap of its wings sent near gale force winds tearing across the slope, stripping the snow from the rocks in a white flurry. Hitting them across the back, the winds ripped Gray and Erza off their feet and threw them straight over the edge of the terrace.
That had been Erza's goal all along. Grabbing hold of Gray, she pressed them together, heads down, as they hit the next ledge down and continue to roll down the slope, kicking up loose gravel and snow. It was dangerous, and painful, but it was their best chance to reach cover fast enough. If they could just make it down to a valley or ravine...
Erza winced, her teeth knocking together as they finally crashed to a stop. It felt like her entire body was bruised. She coughed, struggling to push herself up, but at least nothing felt broken, though it was hard to tell through the battle-ready haze.
Next to her, Gray groaned and shuddered. "We have to keep moving!" Erza said forcefully, reaching out to drag him to his feet. "Can you still run?"
"S-somehow," Gray managed, his breath shaking painfully.
They had landed on the lowest terrace, and the slope fell away steeply just head, the sheer wall disappearing into a wide, dark gorge. It was crazy — but they had no choice, and, stumbling, Erza began to pull him toward the edge.
If she could just control their fall... even the dragon wouldn't risk following them down the narrow crevice. Or so she hoped.
The great wings overhead made no sound, but the wind sweeping down the mountain side was unmistakable. Barely sparing a glance back to see the giant dark silhouette flying down toward them, Erza pulled Gray down to the ground, both ducking their heads as another gale crashed against them like a tidal wave.
But instead of attacking, the dragon veered off to the side at the last moment and spiraled up again. 'It's just playing with us,' Erza thought, gritting her teeth. Circling overhead, in and out of shadow, the dragon would swoop in just often enough to keep them pinned in place with the force of the wind kicked up by its passing.
It was only a matter of time before it lost interest and finished them off. Already, it was slowly closing in with each loop.
Trying to hide her movements, Erza shifted to get her legs under her. Her hand inched up to grasp at the hilt of her sword, and she tightened her grip on Gray. He was shaking under her arm, whether from fear or adrenaline. "Get ready," she said, voice low and tight.
He nodded, raising his head just enough for her get a glimpse of his pale face, scared but determined. His eyes darted to the dragon's circling shape, trailing it. "I'll try to give us an opening," he said. He didn't need to explain further — Erza could guess. With Ice Bringer, he meant. Gray had never used it purposefully, but he could weaken the seal on it, and bring it closer to the surface.
'Master Ur, please,' he thought desperately. The dragon banked, skimming so close that its winds pressed them into the ground again. The anchor shape of its tail dipped purposefully, dragging and digging into the slope, sending rubble flying. 'Now!'
Gray's shadow flowed out around them, like a pool of pitch black ink in the moonlight, and cold magic surged outward. A crescent wave of ice spires erupted across the mountainside, nearly piercing the black dragon, which weaved out of the way sharply. For the first time, it made a sound — a deep, rumbling growl that might have been surprise, or satisfaction, or irritation.
"Now! Run!" Erza yelled.
Letting her pull him along, Gray looked over his shoulder. His breath caught, eyes widening in fear, as he caught a glimpse of the dragon, shaking off the frost that had climbed up its scales and sweeping aside the ice spires, turning toward them with light gathering between its jaws.
"E-Erza!" he called out a warning.
She didn't dare spare a glance back. 'Just a little further!' Erza thought desperately. They were almost to the crevice. Yanking Gray forward and grabbing him around the waist, she shifted her weight and dashed — right over the edge.
Then, they were falling, the ravine dark and yawning beneath them.
Too slow — for the bare moments they hung in freefall, they were completely open. The edge was rising up between them and the dragon as they fell, cutting off Erza's view of the beast and its roar bearing down on them, but it was too slow. The blast was too wide. They would still be hit.
Gritting her teeth, Erza tried to twist enough to at least put herself between the light and Gray, for all the good it would do. She could feel his grip on her tighten, his head buried in her shoulder. "Please," she thought she heard him whisper.
The shadow of the gorge below surged up, and ice erupted along the edge, forming a wall between them and the dragon. It couldn't stand against the force of the shining roar, but where the spells collided, the dragon's spell was turned aside, shooting up and wide. Shards of ice and stone pelted them, and the accompanying shockwave slammed into them, throwing them plummeting down into the chasm.
'It's too fast! I have to—' Erza thought frantically, groping for her sword. But, buffeted by the winds whipping against them, her hand couldn't grasp the hilt.
At this rate, they'd hit the bottom of the ravine with full force.
A shadow overhead blotted out the stars, moonlight shimmering over blue markings — the dragon's shape, leaning over the edge. Light gathered between its jaws again, as it craned its long neck down. Would it be able to hit them despite the awkward angle?
Something shone far beneath, and a wave of magic washed upward from the bottom of the gorge, turning the air frigid. Erza's breath misted, as patterns of frost covered the stone walls they were falling past. Over their heads, the frost turned to spikes of ice, crisscrossing across the ravine's mouth and blocking out the night sky and the dragon.
A dulled explosion rocked the gorge, clouds of dirt and ice dust billowing from the gaps between spikes.
But there was no time to check what had happened. The ground was fast approaching, the stones lit by a faint blue glow. Another surge of magic — and what looked like vines and branches of ice reached up, clutching at them.
Then, impact.
~.~.~
Coughing, Erza startled back into consciousness. She didn't think she had been out for more than a few moments — overhead, broken ice shards still trickled down from between the crisscrossing spires, catching the blue glow.
She rolled over with a quiet groan and tried to figure out what had happened. The ground around them was covered in thin, shattered ice. What remained of its original shape looked almost like a massive frozen blossom. It must have broken their fall. Next to her, Gray was slowly coming to as well, and neither of them seemed to be injured beyond bruises and a few long, shallow scratches.
Climbing to her feet, Erza slowly turned to follow the long shadows to the strange blue light.
The source of it stood nearby, standing upright among the ice and frozen stone — a straight, double-edged claymore, made entirely of silver and glowing faintly.
'That must be...'
"Ice Bringer," Gray confirmed, his voice cracking a little with pain as he limped to stand next to her. "It must have unsealed completely."
'That wasn't just raw ice magic,' Erza thought, looking around them again and then up, toward the sealed mouth of the ravine. 'Those were real spells, matched to the battlefield.' "Gray..." she started to say.
"I know," he cut her off.
Erza nodded, falling silent. "...It bought us some time, but we should focus on getting out of here quickly," she said instead. "There's no way to tell if the dragon will try to follow, and I don't know how long the ice will last."
"Yeah. Just... give me a moment to seal it again," Gray said, letting out a heavy breath.
He stepped forward and kneeled, putting his hands on the ground. Erza watched for a moment, feeling a spark of interest in the magic she'd never seen before — whatever spell Gray used, it made his shadow turn sharply to point toward Ice Bringer and darken to an impossible pitch black. The inky blackness stretched out, circling the small pedestal of ice that the blade was embedded in. Slowly, the cold magic holding Ice Bringer in place dissipated, and it began to sink into Gray's shadow.
Just out of Gray's field of vision, Erza closed her eyes and silently bowed, in gratitude and respect.
With a last glimmer, even Ice Bringer's pommel disappeared into the inky shadow.
In the ensuing mirk, Gray let out a frustrated groan. "Hang on," he called out. "I should have a spare light lacrima somewhere..." He groaned again, quietly, realizing they'd lost both their packs — halfway up the mountain. Getting down would be an ordeal, without a doubt.
"No need," Erza said, finally drawing Heaven's Wheel with a soft chime. A moment later, the blade began to glow, as Ice Bringer had. Turning to Gray, she held out her hand. "Let's go. Stay close, okay?"
Gray hesitated, glancing away and back, then finally reached out. His fingers wrapped around Erza's, and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
As they set off, he chuckled weakly and said, "Well, at least we know there really is a dragon out there. I guess the mission is a success."
"...I think I would've preferred failing," Erza muttered.
~.~.~
Judging by his alarmingly blank expression when he received Erza's report, Kama would have preferred that she fail too.
He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep, slow breath. "It's a miracle you made it back in one piece," he said in a forcefully even tone. "Good job staying alive."
Erza hesitated, uncertain how to answer. "Thank you," she finally decided.
If nothing else, her answer made Kama snort and smirk wryly. "That aside... You understand, right? There's nothing we can actually do about this. A living dragon is completely different from a wyvern, or a wyrm, or the ghosts under the palace. Even with the entire armed forces of Fiore, we'd need more than just a miracle to have even a prayer of taking it down."
"So we're going to leave it?" Erza said, her expression conflicted as she looked away.
"Yes, basically," Kama said flatly. "There's no telling how long it's been up there, but we haven't had any attacks or incidents that I can link to it. We'll put out an order to keep anyone from going up the mountain, but... As long as it doesn't move, we won't either."
"As long as it doesn't move..." Erza repeated.
She sighed. It wasn't like she couldn't see the logic. In the end, the dragon hadn't even pursued her and Gray any further. From a certain point of view, they were the ones who had trespassed on its territory, and many monsters would have reacted the same way.
But it wasn't just a monster, was it? Dragons were one of the great races. In the stories, they could even speak. How long could something — someone — be satisfied with a solitary existence on a mountain top?
'They can be killed,' Erza reminded herself. 'There's legends of it.' Laxus had mentioned it too. And that meant there was a way to do it. They would only need to find it again. 'I wonder if Gray knows anything about it...'
"Well, for now, we've got more immediate problems," Kama said, waving his hand dismissively. 'Alvarez, the mess with the tower, and now this? That old goat Darton just might have a heart attack at this rate,' he thought. To Erza, he added, "Take a break, and wait for your next assignment... and try not to have anything weird happen this time, will you?"
He didn't wait for a reply, slipping out and leaving Erza to stare after him with a faintly disgruntled expression.
"...It's not my fault," she protested to the empty room. It wasn't her fault at all.
~.~.~
Appendix: The seven great races
Humans - The most populous of the seven great races. Although humans existed alongside the other races in the distant past, the civilizations of that time have been almost entirely wiped out and their history lost. Due to this, humans are seen as the youngest of the races. They are also the furthest removed from nature and the flow of magic.
Wizards - All humans have a container that gathers the magic present in nature, thus giving all humans the capacity to use magic to some extent. However, their potential varies greatly. For those with naturally large containers, their magic often manifests spontaneously during childhood in potentially dangerous ways, leaving them no choice but to seek training. Those who train in the use of magic are referred to as wizards.
Dragons - Due to their solitary nature, dragons have never constructed a civilization. However, they possess great intelligence and longevity, and each individual dragon is a nearly unstoppable force due to their incredibly strong magic resistance and powerful magic attacks. Dragons once dominated western Ishgar, until most of their race perished in a war, supposedly among themselves. There has not been a confirmed sighting of a dragon in 400 years, but it is possible they still survive in the wild regions far from human settlements.
Giants - The only ones to have successfully fought the dragons. Once a proud warrior race who sought glory through battle, their battlelust led them to near extinction. They now live in isolated villages and avoid contact with the other races due to a creed of non-interference.
Dwarves - The great race of the earth. Their population began to decline for unknown reasons centuries ago, and they drew back to their ancestral mountain cities. Because they rarely venture onto the surface and avoid contact with other races, little is known about them otherwise. In the ancient days, they sometimes condescended to create masterworks of smithing for human heroes or rulers.
Fairies - Also referred to as nature spirits and sometimes elves. They have many different types, which vary greatly in appearance and characteristics. They are said to be able to alter the flow of magic in nature, causing natural disasters at will. They also possess great aptitude for shapeshifting, and there are many stories of meeting a fairy unawares.
Gods - Beings tied to the fundamental laws governing the magic of the world. The true nature of gods is incomprehensible to humans as they follow a different logic and exist on a different plain. Although every god's power is infinite, they have limited ability to interact with the physical realm, even when invoked by priests and holy rituals. The nature of their magic appears to be different from humans or any of those inhabiting Earthland.
Demons - The antithesis of gods. Demons are able to use ether twisted by deep malice, and where malice gathers, they will incarnate as bringers of disaster. There are theories of "natural" demons coming into existence in order to maintain the balance of the world by filtering that tainted magic and returning it into the flow. However, the most well-known demons are those created by the Black Wizard Zeref, called Etherious.
Etherious - The demons from the Books of Zeref. They are complex spells, recorded within the sealing books. Having no physical form, they must be incarnated through a vessel. Most commonly, they are summoned into temporary forms of pure ether that are maintained by the contractor's will and magic. The dark cult Avatar has made it their goal to create vessels that are able to withstand the strain of a demon's power and allow them to incarnate fully. Most branches have studied various kinds of golems in order to achieve this task, but others have used ceremonial implements or even monster and human corpses. The intelligence an incarnated Etherious displays depends on the degree to which its vessel is able to channel it. Their true nature and capacity is unknown.
~.~.~