It Was Like A Little Light

By CrimsonStarbird

Eight – A Little Light

"Right, then."

Gildarts made the declaration with a lot more conviction than he felt, and he followed it up with a firm clap of his hands. Those seemed like the kind of authoritative actions which would convince the world that he knew what he was doing.

"I can do this," he assured the doubting clouds. "All I've got to do is concentrate until he gets back. Don't leave the circle, don't break the coconuts. Don't leave the circle, don't break the coconuts."

He glanced around for something to do, but there was nothing inside the circle within which he was imprisoned save for the sand and himself. He tried optimistically to push some of the sand together, but without water it refused to hold its shape, and the waves were breaking a few metres shy of the circle. If he waited long enough, the tide might come in… but then again, it might not. This was Tenrou Island, where the laws of nature did not dare to tread. Letting out a deep sigh – an expression he had almost certainly picked up from his companion – he traced circular patterns in the sand.

"It'll be fine," he told himself fiercely. "I'll just focus on breathing. In, and out. In, and out. In… oh, I'm so bored!" This last word became a shout. "Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored! A few hours? I'll die of boredom before he gets back!"

Then a thought occurred to him. "It feels like I've been here for ages, though. Maybe it's been an hour already. Maybe it's been two hours." Peeping through his fingers, he tried to assess the sun's progress through the sky, but only succeeded in making his eyes sting. "Well, maybe if I close my eyes and open them again, he'll be back."

When he opened his eyes, there was still no black-haired mage in sight. There was something to catch his attention, though. Little white cracks had begun to creep out from his crossed legs, snaking silently across the sand. Panicking, he fumbled for the sense of control and brought them to a halt before any of them could reach the coconuts.

Now he was starting to understand the nature of the test. His magic was as bored as he was, and as restless. He didn't yet have the control that came automatically to other mages – he could call it back if he noticed it, but as soon as he stopped thinking about it, it would sneak out again. Even worse, it would start trying to destroy the only destructible things around: the forbidden coconuts.

"Got – to – focus," he ordered himself firmly, punctuating every word with a smack to his own forehead. "Don't leave the circle. Don't break the coconuts. Don't leave the circle. Don't break the coconuts… what is a coconut, anyway? It looks too big to be a real nut. Maybe it's secretly a fruit, like strawberries… or are strawberries the ones that are secretly vegetables? Wait, coconut milk is a thing, isn't it? So coconuts are probably part of the cow family. I wonder how you get the milk out."

He stared at the innocuous coconut as if he could intimidate it into giving up its secrets – secrets as valuable as the location of buried treasure. "Maybe I could just look inside…" But he jerked his hand back at the last moment, reminding himself: "Don't touch the coconuts!"

His resolve lasted for about a second before he was shiftily glancing left and right, trying to see if he really was alone. "If I don't break it, and put it right back where it was, how's he going to know if I touched it or not?" he reasoned out loud. "I don't think he was paying that much attention anyway. If I made a little hole in one of them, just to see what it's like inside, he probably wouldn't notice. Even if I broke one completely, I could shuffle the others round a bit, and I don't think he'd count them… But I really don't want him to throw me in the sea again- ah!"

While he had been deliberating, his magic had made another bid for freedom, and it was almost at the nearest coconut. With a yelp, he called it back so vigorously that he toppled over backwards and barely missed cracking open the coconut behind him with his head. He scrambled to his feet, not daring to relax until he had counted all the coconuts and confirmed that they were safe. Then, heaving another sigh, he sat down cross-legged once again.

"Don't leave the circle. Don't break the coconuts. Oh, but I'm so bored. I wonder if it's actually possible to die of boredom. What if he comes back and there's just my skeleton sat in the circle? That would teach him, wouldn't it?"

Optimistically, he glanced around for something he could construct a fake skeleton out of, but nothing useful presented itself. He did notice the ribbons of light weaving around his fingertips though, so he balled his fists and tried to summon forth that elusive feeling of restraint.

"It's no use. It's just so boring when there's no one around and nothing to do. Actually, that's a point. He's usually on his own on this island, isn't he? How does he stop himself from being bored when there's no one to talk to?"

And then he sat bolt upright. "Oh, I know! He talks to Mavis, doesn't he? I should talk to Mavis too!"

That bold declaration rang a little hollow when a scan of his surroundings revealed that Mavis was being just as invisible as usual. Sheepishly, he muttered, "How does he do this without feeling silly?"

After a moment or two spent burrowing his fingers into the sand, he plucked up his courage and said to nothing in particular, "So, umm, I… hello, Mavis."

When no one laughed at him, he carried on.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Gildarts, though I probably should have introduced myself a while ago. Oh – I wasn't trying to be rude, though! I couldn't just didn't know you were there. So, umm… thanks for letting me stay on the island with you. It's nice here. It's a bit like being on holiday, actually. Well, I've never been on holiday, mummy and daddy didn't like it when I left the house, but Uncle Robin goes camping all the time and he tells me the stories and it sounds like fun. I don't think anyone ever made him sit on a beach and not touch any coconuts while on holiday, though. Have you ever been on holiday?"

A good ten seconds went by before he realized that he wasn't going to get a response.

"Oh, you can't tell me. Well, if you live here, that's like permanently being on holiday, right? You get to go exploring, and you've got so many beaches and friendly animals! But then maybe all your holidays have been really good. I bet you've never had a bad holiday. Maybe I should tell you about the time a hurricane hit Uncle Robin's campsite!"

His one-sided conversation came to a sudden halt. "It's quite a long story, though. Do you want to hear it? It's okay if you don't. I don't want to bore you, even if you are imaginary."

And then he clapped both hands over his mouth, as if he'd said the worst insult imaginable. He added in a muffled whisper, "Don't tell him I said that! He might get upset if he knows I know you're imaginary. It can be our secret, okay?"

Taking the regular lapping of the waves as confirmation, he nodded happily, and began sketching a diagram of Uncle Robin's ill-fated campsite on the sand.

"I'll tell you the hurricane story, then. It was in the middle of summer…"

As it happened, Zeref hadn't gone far. Despite having fully intended to be on the other side of the island by now, curiosity had got the better of him, and he had lingered behind a pair of palm trees, made invisible by the shadows and the latent magic yet close enough to hear every word of the boy's peculiar one-person dialogue. There might have been a hint of a smile on his face, had anyone been around to see it. "He's a sweet kid," he murmured. "I can see why you like him."

Turning his back on the beach, he began to amble towards the forest. "Still, I have no doubt that he will grow up to be just like every other human being."

A loud cry rang through the air at that, defiant as a lawyer's objection. His skyward gaze caught the shapes of two enormous birds circling far above his head, and he snorted. "You call it pessimism; I call it scientific extrapolation from centuries of reliable data."

For a little while, he walked on in silence.

"You know," he began thoughtfully, "Until he came along, I hadn't realized I had started talking to you out loud."

Out here where no one would see, he was allowed that embarrassed half-smile, that impulsive honesty.

Softer than before, he added, "I miss you. It's strange, but I feel somehow close to you when I'm close to him. I wonder if that's the only reason why I…" Words faded to silence, and again, far from prying eyes, that smile became whole. "No, I don't think so either."

Without the boy trotting at his side, the forest seemed somehow empty. The curiosity which had drawn the island's inhabitants out of hiding, come to peer at the new and unusual and cheerful and excitable figure who walked at the side of the one they had learned to dread, was insufficient to overcome their fear when he was alone. Each colourful pair of eyes vanished from the foliage at his approach, just as they had for countless years.

His thoughts ran in circles as he walked. Usually, when he was alone, he was distant; apathetic; half-awake, or perhaps only half-alive. This time he was deep in thought, trying to tease a solution out of a problem that very much pertained to the real world, and the difference could be observed in the waves of darkness lapping around his ankles.

It had been passive for a while now, that black death. He had hoped it might be hibernating, if curses did such a thing; enticed into dormancy by the Tenrou Tree's lullaby and his own dulled emotions. By now, he knew better. If four decades of almost-unbroken inactivity could be undone in three days – if he could come to care so much in such a short space of time – it too could wake without warning.

It was biding its time. That was all. It could have painted a hateful dawn across this island the moment he had started caring that it didn't, if it had so desired – and it had not so desired only because the one thing it wanted to destroy above all else still lay beyond its reach.

For now.

"The boy has to go," he said to himself. "I need to be alone again, before it's too late."

He came to a stop in front of a tree. There was nothing special about it, save for the fact that it was a woodland tree growing in what looked suspiciously like a rainforest, and even that wasn't out of the ordinary for this island. Cherry blossoms burst from every available branch, bedecking the tree in pink and white. They danced with the breeze, a fairy bride's confetti, and a handful settled atop his head, a poetic contrast to his jet-black hair.

"It doesn't matter if he passes the test or not," he informed the tree. "I suspect that leaving him for so long asks too much of him too soon, but that's not important. What matters is that he tries – and that, by trying, he realizes that it's possible. By taking away the distractions, the obstacles, and all external triggers, it's just his will and his magic. Even if he can only hold it back for two minutes when it's trying to run amok, he learns that he can control it for two minutes independent of everything else. And next time, it'll be three minutes. Then four.

"The difficult part is shifting from no control to some finite duration of control. After that, extending it will only be a matter of time. It's a mindset he's learning, not a skill, and once he has it, the battle is almost over. His magic won't ever be normal, but it won't stop him from leading a normal life either. And, who knows? Such power, and he's still so young. If he wanted it, he could become extraordinary, and for all the right reasons."

Soft branches rustled, and nothing more.

"I know," he agreed. "I'm such a hypocrite. That I force him to try while making no effort myself; that I consider his meaningless existence somehow important; that I should care he finds a way to live happily in this world, while also praying for its destruction…"

He brushed the petals out of his hair and gazed up at the lowest branch of the tree; one that was thick enough for someone small and light to perch upon quite happily. "Then again, isn't contradiction the very nature of my being?" he asked of it wistfully, and he went on his way.

Zeref wasn't entirely sure what he had been expecting to see when he returned to the beach. Broken coconuts, definitely. Sandcastles, probably, whose size depended a little on the length of time since the boy had abandoned the coconut test and a lot on the length of time since his last outburst of power. Perhaps nothing at all, if the boy had got bored and wandered off. (Zeref would be lying if he claimed he hadn't designed the test at least in part to earn himself some peace and quiet.)

But he certainly wasn't expecting… this.

The boy was still there. In fact, true to his word, it looked as though he hadn't moved an inch.

By contrast, the scenery had undergone a drastic change. The tide had spontaneously decided to come in, and thus the ocean had steadily ploughed its way up the beach, leaving the boy sat with water up to his shoulders. He had gathered up the coconuts in his arms, where they bobbed merrily up and down, looking for opportunities to slip out of his grip and set sail.

Before Zeref could comment on this unusual scene, the boy's eyes fell upon him, and he beamed in relief. "Ah! You're back! Thank goodness for that! The tide came in, and I thought that if you didn't come back soon, I was going to drown!"

"…So I see." Zeref had thought it went without saying that breaking the rules was acceptable in the case of mortal peril, but apparently not.

"I didn't break any of the coconuts, though!"

A quick count assured him that, for once, the boy's enthusiasm was justified. "You're right, you didn't. Huh. How did you manage that?"

"I have no idea! Though, I wasn't really thinking about magic once the tide came in. I was too busy trying to work out how not to drown without losing the coconuts."

"Huh," Zeref repeated; an uncharacteristically baffled expression he must have received from the boy in return for his exasperated sighs.

The boy continued, "I know you said not to touch the coconuts, but I had to, because otherwise they would have floated away! Does this mean that I fail?"

"…No, it's fine," came the still-very-bemused response. "You pass."

"I do? Awesome! That means I don't have to go in the sea tonight! Well, I suppose I'm already in the sea, so… Actually, it's really quite cold in here. Can I get out now?"

Zeref stared at him, not entirely sure why he was asking permission. "Yes, you can get out of the sea."

"Oh, good."

The boy attempted to clamber to his feet while still holding all the coconuts, and, predictably, he failed. Heaving a sigh – at least he was back to his own mannerisms – Zeref waded out into the sea to help him up. "You can let go of the coconuts, you know. We don't need them any more."

"Aww, but I wanted to-"

But the boy's coconut-based intentions were to remain a mystery, because it was at that moment that white lines flashed through the heap in his arms and all the coconuts exploded at once. Shell fragments, soft coconut flesh and a shower of liquid went flying in all directions.

Not seeming to care that the parts of him that weren't already submersed were now dripping with coconut water, the boy's eyes lit up with delight. "So that's how you get the milk out! They're not like cows after all!" he exclaimed. "Wait, that doesn't count as breaking the coconuts, right? I mean, you already said I passed, so…"

It was at that moment that he looked up at his companion, and his words dissolved into a strangled gulp. Apparently, the Black Mage didn't share his enthusiasm for being splattered with shredded coconut.

Gildarts swallowed. "Oops," he offered, with his best apologetic smile. "At least we're already in the sea, right? It'll be easy to wash the bits of coconut off." When this optimistic logic failed to lessen the other's glower, he decided to take matters into his own hands. "See, we could just do this."

He cupped his hands beneath the water's surface and attempted to fling it towards his companion, which didn't achieve anything besides annoying him further. "Or maybe not…" the boy muttered. Deciding that it was safest to leave his companion to his own devices, he knelt back down in the shallows and tried splashing water over his own head.

That was when his magic decided to be helpful again. It burst out of him in a sudden and furious attempt to destroy the thing it had designated as being in the way – in this case, the sea. The sea was not destroyed. Instead, it was pushed back in a great geyser-like explosion, and all the displaced water crashed down on Zeref's head.

"Oops…" Gildarts's dreadful whisper entwined with the settling spray as the sea returned to normal, leaving his companion thoroughly drenched. "That was, umm, an accident?"

A dangerous light sparked in Zeref's eyes. "Oh, well, if you want to play it like that…"

He snapped his fingers and a wall of water instantly rose up around him. It swept down upon the startled boy, knocking him straight off his feet. When he resurfaced, spluttering, he was several metres away, and his eyes were wide not with fear but utter awe.

"That was so cool!" he gasped. "Do it again! Do it again!"

"I'm not doing it again," Zeref said crossly. "I shouldn't have done it the first time."

His magic skipped restlessly in the back of his mind, fully awake and eager to be used again. His control remained absolute, but calling magic to him without thinking wasn't a good habit to fall back into – not when he wasn't supposed to be using it at all. The rules were unambiguous on that count… though he couldn't help wondering if they should be a little more ambiguous. He knew better than to give in to the fond and familiar warmth that lingered in his veins, no matter how right it felt, but surely the sheer adoration in the boy's eyes could be trusted. Surely magic used to bring wonder was alright…

And that line of thinking was precisely why he needed to be alone again.

But if that conclusion had already been accepted, to be acted upon at the next available opportunity, what difference did it make what he did with his magic in the meantime?

No.

But…

"Aww…" the boy moaned.

Zeref brushed his sodden hair out of his eyes and fished the boy out of the water. "Come on. You need to calm down and put some dry clothes on. It's getting late, and I'm sure you don't want to miss it."

"Miss what?" inquired the boy, squirming in his grip.

"The sunset."

"The sunset? But we can't miss the sunset. It's sort of… hard not to notice, isn't it? There aren't really any roofs here to hide it. Unless we're going in a cave. Are we going in a cave? Oh, are we going to look for bears again?"

As far as Zeref was concerned, that was a wholly inappropriate level of enthusiasm for someone who had almost been eaten (and rightfully so) by the last bear he had met. "No, we're not looking for bears, or any other kind of monster. I have absolutely learnt my lesson on that count. I've never met anyone as eager to walk face-first into danger as you."

Gildarts beamed at him. As far as he was concerned, there was no higher compliment. "Then what are we going to do?"

"You'll see."

It wasn't long before Gildarts discovered what his companion had meant. After reaching their makeshift camp, Zeref made him change into some dry clothes – a pair of grey shorts hidden by a black t-shirt that came almost to his knees, proudly bearing the name of a band which neither of them had heard of – while he went out in search of food. He kept a careful eye on the reddening sky as they ate, and when they were done, he clambered to his feet and announced, enigmatically, "Right. I think it's time."

"Time for what?"

Rather than answering, however, he beckoned for Gildarts, and the boy padded over at once. "I'm going to need to hold on to you quite tightly, okay?" Zeref checked, thinking about the bruises hidden beneath that oversized t-shirt, and he received a single nod in return. High physical endurance was one of the benefits of possessing far too much magic. Speaking of which: "You'd better keep your magic under control."

"I'll try," came the somewhat dubious response.

After the success with the coconuts, that was good enough for Zeref. He wrapped his arm around the boy's chest from behind, pinning him against his own body. "Now, close your eyes."

"Okay!"

Taking a deep breath – more because it felt like the expected thing to do than to calm any nerves; he knew his magic would be true – he released the restraints upon his power and let it flow as tender shadows into the air around them.

To the boy, stood there with his eyes closed and unable to sense any magic besides the roar of his own, nothing seemed to happen. He had been expecting something dramatic, and after several disappointing seconds, his excitement was beginning to fade. "Umm…" he tried, and when this didn't get a response, he asked, "Can I open my eyes now?"

"Sure."

Gildarts did so – and then closed them, and then opened them again, but the dream failed to disappear. This was reality. They had left the ordinary forest clearing behind, and entered a world of pure colour; of light and freedom and an endless sky.

They were stood at the very top of the Tenrou Tree. Beneath their feet stretched the only bough so high up that was large enough to support the weight of one and a half human beings. Smaller branches and little leaf-bearing twigs wove a delicate nest around them, but even the bravest did not rise above the boy's shoulders – they were higher than anything else on the island. Above the leaves, above the birds, even above the clouds; right then, right there, they were the kings of the world.

"Don't look down," Zeref advised him.

Gildarts immediately looked down, caught a glimpse of the green-gold blur of the island so far beneath them, panicked, and lost his balance. If not for the fact that Zeref was still holding him tightly, he would probably have fallen to his death.

"Oops," he mumbled, apologetic and grateful, which only prompted a growl in response.

"Next time you do something I explicitly tell you not to do, I'm going to let you fall."

"I won't! I promise!"

"Besides, you can look at the ground any time you want. While we're up here, don't you want to look at the sky?"

"What's so special about… oh."

It was twilight: that beautiful confluence of light and shadow, neither night nor day but a shining harmony of both. In the western sky the setting sun was waiting for them, a crown of fire upon the silver-blue sea, spreading radiant pink, soft orange, and noble blue across the heavens. The colours rippled, blurred, merged; steadily darkening as they arced overhead.

But even the deepest indigo of the east was not truly dark. Unwilling to be outdone by the fading sun, the stars were out in all their glory, a handful of resolute gemstones, bright and glittering as the heralds of night.

Here, at the top of the world, they were a part of that ethereal vision; that sky so brilliant it could not possibly be part of the same world as the ground.

"It's… it's amazing…" Gildarts breathed. "I didn't think the sky could get better than last time, but you were right; it definitely, definitely, can. Especially when there's no sea for you to push me into," he added offhandedly, and Zeref rolled his eyes.

The boy twisted in an attempt to break free, and Zeref allowed his grip to loosen, but he kept a very close eye on the boy as he edged along the branch on his own. "That's not all I wanted to show you," he said. "Watch this."

Slowly, carefully, he raised his right foot and stamped it back down. A shockwave ran through the network of branches. From all around them erupted a storm of gold and crimson feathers, as if the sunset itself had been given physical form. The boy let out a startled cry – which echoed as a wordless exclamation of delight, as from their nests in the branches below rose a hundred of the birds he loved so much. Their opal eyes reflected the shining stars; the sun's ruby glow rippled along their long, fluttering tails and trailed like liquid fire from their wings.

Most of them soared up and scattered into the sky; others perched upon the topmost branches, gazing at the boy with the same fearless curiosity he always displayed towards them. He stared as though he couldn't comprehend their existence – as though he couldn't comprehend how he was existing here with them, in this perfect place. He extended his hand to the nearest one, and it immediately took flight, though it did not go far. It remained just beyond his reach, curving and swooping in a stunning display of acrobatics; his own private performance.

The boy glanced over his shoulder to where Zeref still waited, as if in askance. "Go on," the Black Mage told him. "They won't come near me. Just be careful you don't fall."

The birds were giving him a wide berth, as they always did, and as Gildarts shuffled away from him, they became increasingly friendly. All those which had remained in the tree took to the air, and they swooped not around the branches of their home or up into the glorious sky, but around the boy. The soft touch of feathers raced across his cheeks as their wingtips brushed him affectionately; their twisting, slender, powerful bodies stroked against his outstretched palms in passing and were gone. He laughed out loud, and they laughed too, or it felt as though they did. The night came alive with joyous song.

One of the birds perched on his head. It was larger than he was, but as light as air. Its oddly crumpled tail swished back and forth behind him like a living cloak; its wings, spread for balance, gave the impression that he was wearing an oversized crown. Overjoyed, he reached up and petted it, and it trilled its contentment back to him, united by that single beautiful moment; by that bond Zeref could recognize in others but never have himself.

And then, all of a sudden, the bird was fluttering skyward with the rest of its flock as the boy hurtled back along the branch towards Zeref. Predictably, he tripped; Zeref, who hadn't been stupid enough to believe that that wasn't going to happen at least once, was already moving. Magic lent him speed and balance, stretching time for him as easily as a lesser mage might have produced light or shaped energy. He caught the boy effortlessly and held him tight.

"What are you playing at-?" he began, annoyance at this sudden recklessness lacing his tone.

But the boy was crying.

"What's wrong?" Zeref asked, wondering if the bird's talons had hurt him, or if he was scared of being so high up-

Yet the eyes the boy turned towards him, though tearful, were also brighter than ever before – and that really was saying something. "I'm so happy," he sniffed. "I'm so glad that I'm alive right now. Thank you. For everything."

"You're crying because you're happy you're alive…?" Zeref wondered, and then he snorted. "Well, I suppose to other people that might not be such a bizarre sentiment."

The sun was so far below the horizon now that not a trace of red remained in the sky. It wasn't dark, not beneath an entire universe of stars, but it was late, and so Zeref said, "We ought to go back to the ground soon."

He sensed more than saw the boy pulling a face through the gloom. "Can't we stay up here tonight?"

"No. It's too dangerous. If you roll over in your sleep, you'll die. And before you ask: no, I'm not going to stay awake all night just to make sure you don't fall."

"Aww…" he moaned, but he conceded the point. "Umm, how are we going to get down?"

"The same way we got up."

"And how did we get up?"

"Magic."

"I didn't know you could do magic like that." Rather than proclaim how cool it was, however, the boy's tone became accusing. "If you can move us around the island with magic, why do you always make me walk everywhere?"

"Because walking is good for you."

The boy gave a disgruntled noise; it wasn't the first time he had heard that response from an adult. He shuffled closer along the bough, his great lemur's eyes stained silver with the light of a thousand stars. "That's a really cool power. I wish I could do something like that. How are you doing it, anyway? Can I watch this time?"

"No. I need you to close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want your magic getting disorientated and attempting to deconstruct mine halfway through. We'd probably end up trapped in another dimension."

It was supposed to be a warning, but he had clearly forgotten who he was dealing with; the boy's eyes immediately lit up. "Ooh, can we-?"

"No."

"Another dimension, though! I'd love to see that! I bet it would be so cool!"

"Absolutely not."

After a conspicuous pause for thought, Gildarts said craftily, "Then maybe I'll pretend to close my eyes, and open them when we're moving so that we end up somewhere really awesome."

"In that case, I'll just wait for you to fall asleep, and then I'll take you back to the ground."

"I'll stay awake longer than you do, then!" the boy challenged.

"Staying awake is one thing you are not going to beat me at, kid. That's one side effect of being stuck in a teenage body. When there aren't annoying kids waking me up every morning, I'm practically nocturnal." At the boy's bemused expression, he added, "Besides, the sun's gone down and all the birds have gone to sleep. Don't you think we should do the same?"

"…I suppose."

"Come over here, then."

The boy looked like he was going to object, but when an enormous yawn got the better of him, he conceded defeat and crawled carefully back along the branch. Common sense won out; he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the other's chest, as if to make it clear that he wasn't going to do anything that might endanger them. In fact, he was so unusually quiet that Zeref thought he might have fallen asleep already.

He hadn't, though, and his small voice soon piped up, "Is it safe now? Can I look?"

"Yes, you can look."

A quick glance around the clearing revealed that they really were back on the ground, with a blanket of branches and starlight-painted cherry blossoms once again between them and that glorious sky. The boy's gaze came to rest admiringly upon his companion. "But I didn't feel anything!" he marvelled. "We went from all the way up there to down here and it didn't feel like we were moving at all!"

"That's because I'm actually quite good at this, believe it or not."

Gildarts gave a wistful sigh. "I wish I could be that good with magic."

"It just takes practice. That's all. You're not short of raw power, you just need to learn how to use it. Not that your magic is particularly cut out for subtlety, of course…"

"Do you think…?" the boy ventured, but just as he had that morning, he failed to get to the end of the sentence.

"Do I think what?"

"…Nothing."

"Okay." Zeref dismissed it with a shrug; the answer would mean nothing if the boy had not spoken the question himself. "In that case, go and grab the tent."

Bounding to his feet, the boy dashed across the shadowy clearing, grabbed the folded heap of canvas, and raised it high above his head. The darkness did not so much as slow him down. Perhaps it was because he had begun to think of this unassuming clearing as home, or perhaps it was simply that he was in the presence of someone whom he trusted to look after him, but it seemed his mind no longer conjured ghouls from every shadow or sketched demons behind every tree. He was back a moment later, dropping the not-even-slightly-broken tent at his feet with a triumphant grin.

The moment it had been assembled, he darted inside faster than a rabbit into its burrow, and by the time Zeref had joined him he was already snuggled up inside the sleeping bag. Yet despite the fact that he could have passed for a metamorphosing caterpillar, he displayed an uncanny manoeuvrability. No sooner had Zeref settled himself down than the was boy curled up against his side, sleeping bag and all.

Zeref gave a pointed cough, and when that didn't seem to work, he demanded, "What are you doing?"

"You're warm," the boy pointed out, yawning. "And comfortable."

"If you're cold, I can raise the temperature in here."

"That's not really the point," Gildarts said, bludgeoning away the hint with his usual lack of tact. "I was thinking about how mummy and daddy wouldn't let me hold their hands or hug them because I just hurt them… and even though I know how not to hurt people now, it's too late, and I'll never see them again…" And he seemed to shuffle even closer, if possible. "But then I realized that I have you, and you're kind too…"

This only provoked a disgruntled noise from his companion. "Get back to your own side of the tent." The boy did not move. Softer, but no less insistent, he tried, "Come on, seriously. I'm not exactly your family, am I?"

"No," the boy pondered. "It feels kind of the same, though, don't you think?"

Zeref was silent for a long moment. Not for the first time, he wondered about this boy who had burst so unexpectedly into his life; his smile and his liveliness and his enthusiasm like a little light shining unafraid into the darkness of his existence.

"I wouldn't know," said he, at last. "I think there was a time when family might have meant something to me, but… it has just been so long…"

He wasn't expecting a response, but a small, sleepy voice provided one; the blunt honesty of one too young to understand subtlety, and who saw with astonishing perceptiveness because of it. "Well, it's definitely like this. So, if you forget again, you can just think about the time we went to the top of the huge tree, and then you'll remember."

Zeref opened his mouth, and closed it again without a word. His second attempt to speak likewise ended in a sigh, because even he could no more lie to the boy than he could adopt his carefree mindset.

"Regardless," he said, "I'd like my personal space back, if you wouldn't mind."

But the boy was already asleep.

"Seriously?" He glared down at the boy, who was curled up blissfully against his side, and sighed yet again, his scowl abating. He couldn't – he just couldn't – stay angry when he was around. "People shouldn't be this happy around me," he grumbled. "It's as if all those years of building up a reputation were for nothing."

And with that, he edged as far away as he could from the boy without leaving the tent, and picked up his carving project. He didn't try to sleep. He knew he wouldn't be able to. As he cut runes one by one into the wood, he thought about a person he hadn't thought about in a long time, and he wondered if it was as lonely outside time as it often was inside it.