Chapter 138:
Laxus had grabbed his bag and left the guildhall shortly after Gajeel had, giving in to his frustration at the translations in front of him. Levy had shot him a sympathetic smile and bade him a good afternoon and he had quietly taken his leave. The few people in the streets steered clear of him as he walked home, noting the scowl on his face that he couldn't seem to hide. He felt pent up, a tiger in an enclosure far too small, and turned up the music in his headphones to try to calm his disquiet.
The sun was shining, the breeze gentle and lacking the chill the mountain wind had held. Dandelions laughed from the cracks in the sidewalk. The trees were just starting to be dipped in color. Every once in a while an early turning tree was a riot of scarlet, golden-orange, or deep russet, their leaves not yet ready to fall. The day was cloudless and mild and warm enough that he should shed his coat, but as if it offered some protection he refused to. The flower stand he always passed had more fall flowers, and so he'd grabbed a bouquet of burgundy, navy, and hunter green in the form of roses, dahlias, thistle, astilbe, and smokebush for the table, the cozy colors a comfort to him. Despite it all, he felt unnerved, thinking of when Kahli had been there and he'd never known. But of course, he wasn't lurking anywhere now.
He was dead.
His stomach twisted, a sick feeling that made him swallow nothing. Was Kahli still down there in the caves of the Sinlin Hills? What had become of his body? The maggots and spiders that crawled across his form, his bloated and purplish hands and screaming mouth. The image of his corpse flashed behind his eyelids and quite literally left him still in the street. The back of Laxus's neck felt hot and itchy.
The beautiful, cheerful afternoon should have been turned abruptly sour. Laxus found his eyes dodging to alleyways and searching the shadows of his walk home. He kept flashing his gaze to the houses he passed, searching for something out of place. He saw the dead grass that lined the street, the weeds struggling through flowerbeds. Windows were dark mirrors that blinked the sunlight at him, keeping tight secrets where he couldn't see. The street seemed bleached of color and gray, imperfections running like chaotic spiderwebs across cobblestones. He felt his home waiting for him in dread, like coming back was just one step forward in a horrid game that was about to be played. The bushes up the walk snagged at his jeans and he'd frowned as he yanked free of clawing branches.
Lily was dozing on the couch inside and happy to see him. The house was immaculate as only the commander could keep it when his roommates were away. Everything was in its perfect place. Neat. Quaint. Unlived in. He had the visceral need to knock something over. Spill something. Unmake something. He needed to make it seem like they hadn't been away from home so long. They lived here. He needed to leave proof behind. A mark. A stain. Something to dispel the feeling that he could disappear tomorrow and no one would even notice.
Lily gave him a concerned look, asked him if he was alright, and after a firm nod they'd broken apart in silence. Laxus went to the kitchen to place his flowers on the table and found himself no less restless than he was during the walk home, except now his enclosure was even smaller. It all just felt wrong. Like he was filling this space of time with anything to keep his mind off the waiting. The dread that twisted in his gut and kept growing. He felt a statue amongst dying heroes. Doing nothing... he was doing nothing. The equinox was just a few days away and he was doing nothing. Nothing to prepare. Nothing to stop it. Gajeel being far from his side made it all the worse. He felt a growing sense that he was forgetting something. Like a choking vine that sprouts in the spring, it had strung itself tightly to him before he even realized. He needed to do something, but what?
He rubbed at his scar and pretended not to be nearly as anxious as he really was. It was when he'd dropped his bag on the ground that he'd been made to pause. The hard thunk of something heavy inside caught him off guard. He'dbent down and looked inside. Lightning rolled in his stomach and made him clench his teeth. The Grimoire was there.
He couldn't read it, per se, but he had begun to recognize symbols. Many of them resembled Draconic, especially the phonetic letters. They were arranged like when he'd already half-translated a sentence for Levy, which made him think the grammar should be easier to pick out. That made sense, especially since Gajeel could understand it when it was spoken. So he should be able to read it… theoretically. Without Levy to bounce off of, though, it was so much harder to parse through.
"Why do you still have that?" Lily hissed, pulling Laxus from his concentration and nearly making him jump, "I thought you were giving it to Levy."
"I forgot," he answered honestly.
He'd taken it back from Davian because he really needed to return it to the Bloodgood Atheneum. He had planned to give it to Levy and have her return it, but it had completely slipped his mind. Wasn't that ridiculous? It had been resting right next to the Draconic books and he certainly hadn't forgotten to give her those. He wasn't sure why he pulled it out or why he sat it on the table. He just needed something to busy his mind and hands with.
Yes, that was probably it.
Lily wrinkled his nose and glared at the book, "I don't like that thing."
"It's just a spellbook, Lil," Laxus dismissed.
"A Grimoire isn't a spellbook," he scoffed, "They're full of hexes."
"Hexes?" Laxus mustered a wry smile, "Do you know anything about Grimoires?"
"They're made by evil people," he said, activating his Aera magic so he could grab the kettle from the cabinet and begin filling it with water, "That's enough to make them evil."
That uneasy feeling chewed at his marrow again.
Evil. But the book itself wasn't evil, was it? Davian had spoken reverently of the rituals inside. It wasn't all ripping out hearts on altars. There were rituals for healing, for growth, power, even love. To say the book was evil would be the same as saying Seith Magic was evil. In Laxus's eyes, it had far more to do with the user than the spell... though, the user wasn't exactly good, either.
He could picture clearly in his mind's eye Orotrushit sitting on the golden throne, his eyes glowing as he gazed coldly down at him when his task had been completed. He remembered being scrutinized by that blasé apathy from the Temple of the Moon. How Orotrushit's words had rung in the hall, his smile wide and sharp-toothed.
Tread lightly… knowing the future can be so tedious.
Like it wasn't a gift, but a burden.
I will give you this truth, not out of sympathy to your curiosity or to inspire fear, but simply because I can do it without a cost.
He hadn't smiled when he spoke of his own death, so known to him that he knew even the hour of its occurrence.
Looking back, it seemed Orotrushit had left him omens and warnings for every step of their time together. He had been angry at Marinus for his statements, for his false belief in something he clearly cared about. He had eased Laxus's fears about the cleansing. He had given Davian his word and stuck to it, had given Laxus his word before striking his deal. Orotrushit had warned him over and over again about asking questions, told him to stay cautious, and even allowed him grace, not forcing him to pay a price for answers when he'd clumsily thought aloud. And then, when Laxus had finally gone exactly where he'd been intended, Orotrushit had been transparent about the consequences, took his penance, and left.
It all could have been to lure Laxus into a false sense of safety, of trust, in order to do what he needed to get done, but... why give Laxus a chance to change the future? Why warn him at all? Unless he really was so sure Laxus would still tread the path he needed despite it. What would have happened if Laxus had never asked that damned question? If he hadn't let out all the darkness he'd had bottled up inside on Gajeel?
Laxus frowned down at the dark little book and its darker spells and implications, running a cautious finger along the edges of one worn page. He needed to be careful. He had allowed himself to see the human in so many inhuman things. In Davian it had worked out for good; he had turned into a valuable ally, even a friend. But Davian hadn't exactly been their enemy, just not aligned to their interests…
...like Gajeel implied Orotrushit wasn't, but could be.
Laxus picked anxiously at the corner of the page. Despite how insane it sounded, Gajeel had been right about many things Laxus had dismissed before. He wanted to believe him this time, but what ideal could they ever have that would overlap? What could he use? How could he see the human inside him and force Orotrushit to remember it as well?
He screwed his eyes shut, as if the focus might manifest the answer to his many questions. After a few moments, he gave up, though his mind still agonized over everything that had transpired at the temples. He saw Erandi on the altar, tied down. That terrified boy didn't make a sound when he'd been cut into. Laxus didn't know how Davian could stomach the thrusting of the knife, the tearing out of the heart. Those fatal movements, as Orotrushit's with the bird, had been practiced and seemed nearly delicate. How many times had they done that same thing, over and over and over again? Did they even know how many hearts they'd taken?
Which one of them would take Gajeel's?
His stomach plummeted into his toes and his flesh prickled. Gnawing feeling welled up from the pit of his stomach and shot down his arm. He slammed the Grimoire shut. He couldn't just keep sitting here. He had to dosomething.
Keen to Laxus's outburst, Lily had wandered back over to him. He frowned at his sudden tension, the distress and anger written clearly across his features.
"You've done all that you can," he assured him.
"You expect me to just sit around and do nothing? Just wait until something happens?" Laxus snapped, "Didn't you used to be a commander?"
"I was," Lily said, his gaze keen, "and as a commander, I know that sometimes it's not wise to make the first move. It is easier to defend on our own terms than it is to launch an attack... especially an attack against something with a domain it inhabits where it has an edge."
Laxus sighed, "You'd think after all this time I'd be used to waiting for bad things to happen."
"At least you don't have to wait alone," Lily replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. Laxus huffed but reached to him and rubbed at the Exceed's ear in thanks.
"You have a point there. Still, I wish Gajeel was back already," he said. His mood soured again, and he frowned at the Grimoire, "I don't think I ever apologized to him properly."
"Apologized? For what?"
"Our fight at the temple."
"Don't lose sleep over it," Lily said in gruff reassurance, "if he were upset, he'd let you know."
"Still... I owe it to him."
There was a knock at the door. Three simple raps, nothing more. The silence that descended after seemed odd, settling into the room about them like the first frigid snow of winter. Laxus had the feeling he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't, like a child playing with hexes to see if they were real.
He furrowed his brow, shaking away a feeling of déjà vu.
"You expecting someone?" Laxus asked.
"No... Wendy and Charla are on a mission," Lily replied, swiveling his head towards the sound. He muttered something and walked into the living room, heading for the door.
Laxus watched him go, and only belatedly realized that the kitchen had grown dark while he fretted. With the approach of the equinox, the nights were steadily encroaching further on the day. Still, he hadn't realized it had gotten so late. He leaned forward in his chair and peered towards the back door which led to the yard beyond. He couldn't see much because the curtains were closed. It was as if the sunlight beyond couldn't quiet penetrate past the glass, making the curtains appear as if illuminated on the other side by a wide, pallid nightlight, cold and gray. And that was... odd. Was it overcast? It had been a cloudless day not an hour earlier.
Laxus was startled by motion in his peripheral vision, only relaxing when he realized it was Lily walking back down the hall towards his room.
There was a knock at the door. Three simple raps. Nothing more. Did Lily not get the door?
"Lily?" Laxus called out to him, confused. When there was no response, he stood and stepped to the doorway. The tiny panther was walking, heedless to Laxus's call. He didn't look back at him, so he tried again, "Pantherlily."
Lily stopped just as he turned towards his room and with a bizarre, jerky movement, he looked his direction. He had the same groggy, stiff expression of a rousing sleepwalker.
"Weren't you getting the door?" Laxus asked.
Lily narrowed his eyes in dazed confusion. Laxus got the distinct feeling he was looking past him, around him, as if he weren't standing there at all. Suddenly, Lily's eyes focused and he startled.
"Oh! Laxus…! You suprised me." he said, as if seeing him for the first time that day.
"The door, Lily…" Laxus asked again, trying to ignore the knots finding new and inventive ways to tie themselves in his stomach. "Weren't you… getting the door?
Lily tilted his head to the side, his furry brow creasing. He looked genuinely perplexed, like he had no idea what he was talking about.
"Someone's at the door?"
There was a knock at the door. Three. Simple. Raps. Monotonous. Measured. Unhurried, but not without intent. The sound carried in a way that made Laxus's entire body turn rigid, the percussion settling like grains of sharp sand in the divots of his teeth. He turned and watched the door like it was a living thing that might pounce on him. Had he locked it? He couldn't remember now, and suddenly that felt a terribly important thing to have done. Three beams and an imaginary line formed the boundary of his home and the world beyond it. One fragile boundary separated him from something he innately felt inside was wrong. He was struck with how feeble his shelter was compared to what waited outside, like laying in a tent and hearing the chuckle of wolves roving around just beyond. But there was no sound, only his own heart beating heavily in his chest, a cadence just a little bit faster than he would have liked, betraying his fear.
Lightning clawed up his throat.
He strode towards the door. He could hear Lily behind him, refusing to leave the hallway, a different and more anxious silence that Laxus didn't like. Stepping towards it felt like staring down from the top of a steep drop. The distance was somehow insurmountable and yet he crossed it far too quickly. It waited patiently for him to approach, to grip the knob, turn the latch. He threw the door open and the dread building inside the pit of his stomach frothed up into his mouth and settled there.
Orotrushit stood before him, tattoos and eyes pulsing with a dim, churning light, and it looked to Laxus that the world outside his door began and ended with him. White like forgetfulness, like an embodied hush, like desecration. Pale, corpse-white mist coiled around Orotrushit's feet in volute writhings. All else beyond him was white, choked out of existence by mist or fog, unnatural in its dense opacity. Laxus saw the reflections of eyes in the depths of it waiting, watching, sightless as the eyes of lifeless stone. The faces of the dead, living terror; he could feel them there, ghastly and quiet like an army of tombstones in moonlight. The mist puddled at his open doorway, somehow unable to pass.
There was a look in the chameleon's eye that Laxus had not witnessed there before, and he had seen the look of murder there, and contempt, thrill, and even boredom. The expression there now was chilling, devoid of his usual rictus grin. Laxus could not place the emotion coiling betwixt twitching gold. Perhaps it had no true name. Stronger than rage, hollower than hate, and far more apathetic than disgust could be. It was hungry, as all things with him were, and it didn't just make Laxus feel like prey, but prey caught.
For a moment, Orotrushit's gaze flickered to the doorframe and then rolled up to the sky.
"Interesting…" he hummed, and then tipped his head to the side, "I've been told there was a wizard here to contract with. Laxus Dreyar, Son of Ivan, Grandson of Makarov Dreyar, Lightning Dragon Slayer of Fairy Tail."
Something was wrong.
The way his name was invoked had depth, like being summoned from a dead sleep. He didn't like being called by that moniker, and he especially didn't like it from the mouth of the man before him. Laxus clenched his jaw and crossed his arms, taking up the expanse of the doorway. He tested his magic, felt it respond to his call. Orotrushit's eye followed the flash of it slithering across his arms in vague amusement.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't strike you down where you stand." Laxus said, mustering enough courage to keep his voice rigid and calm.
Orotrushit replied slowly, his tongue curling along each word, "You want to know why I am here."
"I know why you're here," Laxus narrowed his eyes at him, "All the more reason to kill you now."
"We both know how often you are mistaken, pet." He said, but no smile curled on his face. Orotrushit watched him stoically, betraying nothing, "Harm could be caused after a decision of such impermanence. To be found lacking once again, and on a matter so important… but the choice is yours. I cannot affect this."
Laxus glared at him, but his stomach twisted, "Then tell me what you want, and I'll consider it."
Orotrushit let out a short breath of exasperation. The movement was measured as he reached forward, never once leaning past the doorframe. Orotrushit looked up at him, the light in his eye pulsing fast, not like a heartbeat, but more like the frantic beating of a hummingbird's wings. There was malice there when he took his knuckle and knocked again, those same slow. Measured. Beats. Reverberating through the house.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
His hand drifted down to grip his own wrist. There was something commanding in the way that Orotrushit watched him. Expectation. And inevitability. "It is rude to not allow your guest entrance, especially after they've traveled such a long way... I've certainly allowed such hospitality to you."
Laxus gritted his teeth. Orotrushit was standing on his doorstep knocking at his door and asking to be let inside? Something was wrong. At his clear hesitation, he would have been sure the chameleon would grin that way he always did when he knew he was inciting some sort of terror, but he didn't.
Was it a compulsion that made him step to the side, or just the unnaturalness of the entire situation? But despite the obvious invitation, the chameleon didn't enter. He waited, and he watched, and he didn't move a muscle.
"Well, come in then," Laxus snapped, motioning him inside.
An emotion flicked in Orotrushit's eyes and vanished before Laxus could pinpoint what it was. His lip twitched. A snarl or a smirk? He took one step in and then another and then stood, his eye fluttering closed as if waiting for something to happen. When it didn't, he resumed his measured walk into the house.
Laxus turned to close the door when a dark movement caught his attention. Where Orotrushit had been standing, several of his pearlescent blue feathers had fallen. They winked in the light once before their color dulled into a drab gray, and wilted to dust. Where they faded, mushrooms rapidly flowered, their caps a chalky gray color of ash which curled black at the edges. Even as they bloomed, they melted, turning into a dark slime that fanned out like a living thing, pulling itself thin and viscous against the ground, wriggling and quivering towards him. Unsettled, he slammed the door and stepped back from it.
Orotrushit hadn't made it far into his home, stopping only a few steps inside to study the space. The long feathers around his head moved with each turn of his head, catching the light. Instead of shimmering in the light, they were dull and pallid, lacking their normal luster. Laxus took note of the hilt on his hip, the ritual blade kept in its decorated sheath. Laxus ran his hand against the knife Gajeel had made him, curled his fingers around the hilt sitting snugly against his belt.
When you pull out your knife, Laxus, you do it with the intention to kill without hesitation.
His stomach pitched. He let the knife go.
"I have never ventured so far north before," Orotrushit said, his voice cast in uncanny, hissing monotone. "I see the touches of the east everywhere I look, invasive weeds which need tending in acid, or perhaps fire. Surely the roots have extended too far in so short a time. You have rotted the soil you stand on from the inside, stolen the nutrients from the earth and left it wasted," he walked as he spoke, his gaze trailing over the staircase heading up to their rooms. "Such a large home speaks of nobility, and yet there are so many like it..."
Orotrushit's head swiveled in a birdlike way, falling to the mantle and the pictures they'd placed there. Laxus had never much cared about those sorts of homey touches, but Lily had thought it would be nice. Now, he had the strong compulsion to whisk the pictures into his arms and hide them away.
"You've captured their essence," Orostrushit said, plucking up the one Laxus least wanted him to examine, as if he somehow knew its importance. Laxus wasn't protective of his mother, but there was just so little of her that he could know and hang onto. Orotrushit examined her photo, eyes trailing over her likeness with mild interest.
"How extraordinary," he said, much to Laxus's surprise, "the woman is dead, surely, but you cling to her through this. Mawkish... but such is your nature."
He set it back on the mantel, and almost immediately those same mushrooms flowered where his hands had been. Laxus clenched his fists, unsure of what to do as he watched the terrible little inkcaps fade to black, and turn into that same slithering slime. It inched steadily downward onto the wood, staining everything it touched with darkness and – Laxus realized with a start – eating away at it. It wasn't like acid, or fire, but as if a great deal of time had passed and it was simply rotting away. He jolted forward and grabbed the frame, careful not to touch the strange decay. He fumbled the picture free and dropped the frame, drawing back from broken glass and soft, rotted wood.
Orotrushit dragged his tail behind him, glancing at Lily as he passed on his way to the kitchen, but not offering him a word. His expression was one of austere contempt, like it was an insult the Exceed were even there. Lily shrank back, his ears flattening against his head. His eyes dodged to Laxus in question, silently wondering what was going on. Laxus was just focused on what he would do if the chameleon made a move for him. Static snapped between his fingers. He could still use magic... for now.
"Laxus… who is this?" Lily said, stepping closer to him.
"Spices from the south, and west, and far, far east." Orotrushit revelled. "Your own oven. And so much food… everywhere. In the market, I saw things I'd only heard stories of after I gained the High Priest's favor. I never would have imagined it all gathering in one place, not even at the behest of nobility. Yet, these are things for the common man?" Orotrushit stopped on the tile floor. A trail of black ink followed him, shivering and writhing after each feather that fell loose from his tail, darkening each step he took. It pulsed and lunged and fidgeted after him, like it was alive, slick strings spreading across the ground and rotting the floor on which he stood. "New furniture. Lush rugs under your feet. Fresh flowers on your table. I had been of nobility during our prime, became the Head of the Houses and lived in our greatest riches and didn't know such luxury… you stand in a chamber filled with treasures, do you not?"
Laxus narrowed his eyes. Something was very, very wrong. Orotrushit had been to the hospital, had been inside Davian's home, had aided Bianca. There was no way he didn't understand the things before him now. He didn't grin or smile or speak in riddles, completely lacked his usual condescending tone, hissinister, calculating demeanor. Laxus knew Orotrushit as someone theatrical, expressive. Now his tail dragged against the ground, his hands clasped contained before him, and he held hishead stiff and high, like a practiced nobility, exuding strength above all else.
Orotrushit let out a deep sigh that devolved into an impatient hiss, "Do you not?"
"It's just a normal house? A rental." Lily replied shakily, stepping even closer towards Laxus, "It's really not all that impressive… are you not from Fiore?"
"Lily, get behind me," Laxus cautioned with severe calm.
"I have known peasants who would have killed for such luxuries. These are things only granted to kings.," The thing that looked like Orotrushit glanced back over his shoulder at Laxus, abject loathing in his one exposed eye. "I always knew the wizards would create wonders… I had no idea you would leech even them of their splendor."
"Tell me what you want." Laxus demanded. "Tell me why you're here."
"Mages and their want for answers," he responded coldly, "I have told you already, and in your own tongue. An invitation inside, which you have extended. One I have graciously accepted."
Laxus felt a twinge of fear pluck against the strings of his chest. Again, he tested his magic and found it responded to his call. What was going on? He didn't like this. This wasn't Orotrushit, and he never thought there could be a worse implication.
"Well then, accept my invitation to leave," Laxus said, his still tone weighted with threat.
As if he hadn't heard a word Laxus said, the thing in his home simply straightened and continued to peruse the kitchen until his eyes fell on the table. An affectionate smile tugged at the side of his face as he beheld the Grimoire. He lifted it gently, familiarity a soft and otherworldly thing that made his form shiver. When he turned from the table, the flowers wilted and grayed in seconds, scattering dried petals that fuzzied with mold, and turned into more of that putrid black slick sprawling flat against the table. It seeped into it,releasing the heavy scent of rotting wood. Decay was happening rapidly before his eyes.
"Ah... old friend..." he said and finally turned to face Laxus. A taloned hand glided over the edges of the pages until his claw caught on one and he pulled it open. He looked satisfied, as if he'd memorized every page and had just laid his gaze on exactly what he was looking for, content in his memory, "The boy did right in his preservation. Good."
Black slipped from his nose and dropped onto the page. He frowned, his good humor wilting just as swiftly as the flowers on the table. He brushed delicately at the page with his thumb, a scowl twisting across his face. With a flick of his wrist that was near violent in his disdain, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He curled his lip in disgust at the smear of black and shook his head.
"Why have the gods cursed me with such miserably inadequate sons? One weak in spirit and the other... weak in body." He hissed in utter contempt. "Perhaps that is to be expected for ones who never know true hardship. Their mother ruined them. Don't have children. They only yield disappointment."
Realization turned Laxus's blood to ice. Lily had been quietly sneaking towards him, and so he grabbed the Exceed and dragged him behind him in a swift motion. Static filled the room, turning the air tumultuous. Sparks of lightning fled him in his eruption, slithering through the air and scorching the walls. Father lifted his gaze to him, agitation to his sudden hostility barely contained behind a facade of patience. He glared at Laxus as if he were a child who had rudely disrupted his reading and needed to be scolded. He gave a heavy sigh that spoke of his lack of approval and what he was - and wasn't - prepared to put up with.
"I'm going to ask you once nicely," Laxus said, his stomach coiling, "Release the covenant you have with Gajeel, or die."
"You will find me a hard mouthful to swallow," Father taunted, eyes listing towards the Grimoire for a moment as if he were considering him. "But since you claim to have the stomach for it, fine. Kill me."
Laxus gritted his teeth. He didn't like the distance between them, or rather, the lack of it. Fighting in such a confined space when he had so much power behind his attacks could bring the house down on them. He'd have to be precise in his aim, and that meant he'd lose power, power he had a sinking feeling that he would need.
Laxus raised his hand, telegraphing his intent to strike. "Release the covenant. Now."
"You hesitate? Why?" Father asked calmly, not looking up to him. "Is it because you know you are not enough?"
Laxus narrowed his eyes, "I am more than enough."
"Laxus…" Lily said nervously at his side, his concern making Laxus's body stiffen.
Father didn't flinch, didn't even make a move to defend himself. He stood calmly, relaxed and open, completely unbothered by what Laxus knew was a smothering amount of magical energy.
"Ah… child," He placed his free hand on his heart in a mockery of a sympathetic gesture. "It is not your fault you are made this way. Do not feel guilt for what is beyond your scope of capability."
"Release the covenant." Laxus demanded again. It felt wrong striking Father with lightning, an unarmed man making no move for him. Laxus knew in his head he could kill him, should kill him, but couldn't bring himself to. He was just... standing there. "This is your last chance."
Lily transformed, a hulking, dark shape beside him. His anxiety radiated around him in waves. He was reaching to his back, to the crimson sword he kept strapped there.
"I empathize. Many tremble in the wake of what it means to give to the divine. Trust that I did not come here to harm you, pet." Father inclined his head in challenge, "Continue to provoke me, however, and I will."
Laxus clicked his teeth. His power surged and then rapidly coalesced. A thin strand of light, yellow and alive with intention, arced between them. The brooding shadows fled as he sent one thin, strangled bolt. It was a fraction of his power, but all he could bring to life without fear of blasting the roof from the place. It crossed the space in less than half a heartbeat and, as if he already knew what was about to happen, Father lifted his hand. The gesture drew his strike like a magnet, dragging it from its path towards his chest to his waiting palm. Bright light blinked out of existence and the shadows descended like a vice closing them in. Father didn't even shake his hand from the sting, instead glaring at Laxus, unharmed. Another black drop slipped down his face and he brushed it away, disgusted.
"Magic mystifies me. You have access to so much power despite having a complete lack of reverence, of respect. There are limited drawbacks, and it is all subject to your will alone... such potential just to be wasted on the arrogance of nature's biggest mistake," Father spoke as if he were merely musing to himself, as if Laxus and Lily weren't there."It was difficult to compete with on the battlefield. Ritual requires sacrifice, permanence. Invocation was the Sphynx's idea, but the time it takes causes a problem. You would kill me before I uttered a single syllable. Something more complex than a simple request for strength, for fortitude, for a guided hand, would be impossible. If a price is paid before... could it be circumvented later? If this was a barter with the gods, could payments in pain, in blood, be made in advance for the promise of something to come? Wizards aren't the only creatures who employ ruthless cunning. What are scars if not that which is made from flesh destroyed?"
Laxus surged forward. He snapped his wrist towards Father and a line of sparks followed the motion of his hand, veering in a jagged line towards him. Father released the Grimoire, splaying his clawed hands open to catch the impact of spark. They barely made a sound when they landed - brilliant flashes of light punctured the air alongside an arc of pale lightning, singeing the air. The atmosphere roiled with the scent of ozone and smoke. The snap of rapid heat left the tiny space feeling enervated. He heard Lily choke on a gasp of dismay. Laxus's stomach sank as the light faded to reveal Father standing unharmed, a gaping hole in existence between his hands swallowing what was left of flickering static.
"My sons were not born in war, and like those who never know the rage of the battlefield, their hands are soft, callow," Father continued, and dropped his hands wide as if to display it so. The Grimoire floated before him, weightless. The orb of darkness vanished. "I am no such child of peace. I did not take for granted what the world had to offer because I paid for it with blood. The world I was known to was not gentle. I aim to make it that way again and free existence from inane wizard insolence once and for all."
Laxus knew his time to act was quickly dwindling. He readied his fists, calling energy to snap down his wrists and twist in tendrilled vines around his hands. He barreled forward only for his foot to slip. He cursed glanced downward, seeing that the putrid black grot had spread itself in slim, pulsing veins across the ground, stemming from the places where rotting feathers had been tracked across the floor. It twitched and wriggled and throbbed into shapes, symbols. He reeled back as it lurched up his boot, peeling back leather in dark flakes and consuming it.
"What the hell is that?" Lily hissed.
"Don't let it touch you!" Laxus warned.
Father spoke, and the world rippled in response, "May that which is above reflect that which is below."
Reality shifted, but Laxus had witnessed this before, when Orotrushit had first taken his magic from him. It made Lily stagger and fall to one knee. Laxus threw his hands wide to keep stable, catching himself fast enough to keep from kneeling in the black ink around him. The touch of ice sank into Laxus's bones, and he and Lily found themselves standing in that unnatural mist.
All around them, eyes reflected back from the roiling depths, a veritable army of the dead, waiting just out of sight. Laxus was beginning to understand. Here, in this place where the dead and damned to Father's call rubbed so closely against the flesh of the living, they both craved and feared the light of life within them. Always watching, compelled to empower the beast before them, but too scared to touch the light which boiled bright beneath the skin of the living. They were hungry as Father was, hands clutching old weapons they could no longer use or swaying like the branches of a willow in the night wind. He could feel the hatred, the despair, the aching thirst emanating from them like the heat that bloomed from the glowing embers of a dying fire. And if they were a dying fire, then the thing that stood before them was a blistering sun kept carefully in a box too small to hold its power. The Otherworld where Father walked freely, and so close to the equinox, was pulled as flush against their world as two hands clasped together. This was their domain.
Laxus knew without having to try that his magic would be no more use to him now. He grabbed Lily and hauled him to his feet, ignoring the pitting in his gut.
"If you were a real Father who cared for your children, you would want them to have peace. Haven't they suffered enough?" Laxus demanded, his voice taut as a bowstring drawn back with arrow cocked, "And for what? Revenge on wizards? We're not the ones you fought against. They died hundreds of years ago."
"You think yourself above the sins of your fathers?" Father said, his head lilting to the side, "You benefit from the very pain your own caused. The lacrima in your eye grants you power you were never meant to have. Tell me, do you deserve it?"
"I use this power to help people," Laxus replied, keeping himself between Father and Lily, "Deserve it or not, it protects the people I care about."
"There it is... the double standard." Father said in a voice deep with malice. He took a step towards them, his body relaxed as if he were speaking to a friend, and not someone he hated. "Violence is violence. Blood is blood. Death is death. Unless at the hands of a wizard. Then, it is justified."
"I don't need to murder people to prove a point," Laxus snarled.
Father paused at that, an amused sort of confusion coloring his face for just an instant, "You are not a warrior."
"I am," Laxus said, "The best one you'll ever meet."
"No. If you were, you would know that battles are not won with mercy."
He advanced towards them again, and on impulse Laxus pulled out the knife on his belt and brandished it before him. The dark metal of Gajeel's iron flashed white with the reflection of the void around them, and Father stopped. The corner of his lip twitched, and then a wide grin split his face. He looked crazed, filled with venom and exhilaration. He chuckled once, a sick sound, and another dark bead slipped down his face. He rolled his eyes to the sky, or what Laxus could only assume was sky, since the fog was so thick that even above them was bleached the sallow white of dead coal ashes.
"There is time yet. Fine. Prove to me your intrepidity."
"Since when did you learn to use a knife?" Lily spluttered under his breath.
"Recently." Laxus muttered, and ignored the cutoff groan that escaped the Exceed, "Does your Musica Sword still work?"
"That's about all that does," Lily growled, "I can't fly. It's like I'm back in Edolas."
Father's movement rendered them silent. He spoke something in Oumic and the response was a round of whispers slipping through the mist. The black slick jerked towards its master, crawling over itself and clawing higher, taking shape. He stuck his hand into it, curled his fingers around the end of something and dragged a weapon into existence. It looked like a wide paddle, the handle of it wrapped with vibrant blue and teal strings, and fastened to the ends were golden charms and opalescent, divine feathers. One one side, wood was carved with the intricate design of a serpent, the blocky pattern of it slithering to the end, its mouth opening to swallow a skull. Inlaid on the other side in the same pattern was a mosaic of jade, gold, and black obsidian. Jutting from around the edges of the paddle were shattered obsidian blades, stuck deep into the wood, sharper than razors and jagged as the teeth of a chainsaw.
Chaos broke loose before Laxus had a chance to brace himself. The white fog world shattered with daylight and riotous color. Suddenly, they were in the middle of a battlefield. The jungle rose up around them but they were in a clearing. Men were screaming, bodies running and clashing against each other. Laxus watched in terror as lizardfolk with the same sort of weapon Father had clashed against men wielding long black knives, spears, and more of those jagged-edged clubs. They stabbed, hacked, and shoved against each other. Blood spilled. Laxus felt his heart stop as a blade sliced through a throat nearby him and a scream died into gurgles. The body fell with heavy thud into the dust just feet away, the perpetrator drawing up a woven shield just in time to catch the blow of another warrior.
"Laxus!" Lily cried out, shoving him away from a strike aimed for his head. Lily's scarlet sword flashing as it caught the club against its flat edge, and with a great shove he batted the man away. "You have to focus! Our enemy is here."
Laxus had never been in a battle like this before. Wizards he had fought, but with lightning that could send them to their knees with just a shrug of his shoulders, bat them away like gnats. All he had in his hands was a knife, a large knife, yes, but nothing compared to the weapon in Father's hands. The weapon Father used now to cut down another warrior who came swinging from the brutal pandemonium around them, lodging the wicked edges into the bared neck and chest of him, and then ripping it out again savagely. Father turned his gaze towards them, a manic edge to his movements that hadn't been there before, like he'd just been presented a drug he desperately craved.
When Father approached, it was like it was meant to be that way. Jaguars did not barter with men before they crushed their throats in their jaws, and this thing before them wouldn't either. He would come, and they would die shortly thereafter. It was as simple as that.
"Get ready," Lily said, a command in his tone Laxus had never heard before. It spoke of experience, and it should have been a comfort, but all it did was solidify how inept he felt now. "We hit him at the same time. You go for his left, I'll go for his right. He'll have to defend against my Musica Sword. Get him while I have him off balance."
Laxus tried to remember what Gajeel had told him. Don't fear the knife. Don't hesitate. Lily was at his side, his blade hefted masterfully. Laxus was so woefully out of his element, berating himself for ever thinking he could handle himself in a fight without magic. Father was right. He wasn't a warrior.
He wasn't enough.
As if sensing his growing fear, Father fixed Laxus with his burning gaze. He smiled, a gruesome display of his sharp teeth, and every nightmare Laxus was forced to witness for the past months played in rapid succession behind his eyes. Father approached with his head high and imperious, black talons flashing with every strong and precise movement he made. Each step held more power than should have been there, the confidence of someone unmatched prominently displayed. He was more than just a man, more than just a conqueror. Laxus gripped tightly his knife, as if letting it go would stop his heart.
"Foolish little pet, did you think me my son? Untrained in battle? Only ever taking life offered in supplication and sacrifice? Or worse still, did you think me the bloated regency of your own pampered king, lazy on his throne, never knowing what it meant to defend his kingdom with his own two hands?" Father sneered, his eyes glinting.
The ground turned fetid and black at his feet, curling with ashen mushrooms that melted into that disgusting, creeping sludge. All around them the battle faded in on itself, a background of agonized screams and the nerve-rattling clash of weapons on weapons; shields splintering, flesh ripping, and above it all, Laxus heard his heart beating loud and frantic in his ears.
"Laxus! Raise your knife!" Pantherlily commanded, and Laxus did, gritting his teeth as he tried to tell himself he had fought worse enemies than this, that he had lived, that he had won. His soul didn't believe him, "On my command."
"Come, test your mettle," Father grinned, brandishing his weapon. "It has been so long since my blade has tasted the blood of men."
"Now!" Lily yelled and charged forward.
He swung the Musica Sword, a heavy broadsword which grew as he struck. Father leaned back and watched casually as the blade passed him by. He stepped forward and twisted, landing a harsh kick into Laxus's gut before he was able to get close enough with his knife. Lily rounded on him, swinging the blade only for it to be caught in the teeth of Father's own weapon. The force would have shattered bone, but the chameleon didn't flinch. He dragged Lily's blade down, and then leaned into him, pivoting his weight as he shifted, and throwing him into the fray around them. He heard Lily cry out as those fighting around them descended on him.
Laxus staggered and lunged away from a sweep of Father's weapon, eyeing his reflection in obsidian too close for comfort. Laxus advanced, attempting to close distance, to keep him from using the weight of the sword against him, but Father dodged back, feinted and lunged forward. Terror clawed its way into Laxus's throat as he jerked away, desperate to be out of reach. A wicked edge snagged his jacket and sliced through it, sharp enough to leave a clean cut. He fell back on his heels, panic bleaching the world around him white. He was like this with Gajeel as well, and he'd ended him in seconds!
The bladed club was coming for him again, and his only thought was to be outside of the reach of those black teeth. This time when it passed him, it sliced his shirt. A thin line of pain told him he hadn't been unscathed. He clamped down on a cry of surprise and pain, keeping it locked behind his teeth.
"Oh, great wizard, why do you flee? Do you not have a weapon in your hand?" Father simpered, this time taking the sword in both hands and slicing down, aiming for his shoulder. Laxus scrambled just out of reach, his throat closing around a gasp. "You run like a frightened child. You are no warrior. You are not even a man. You. Are. Nothing."
"I am a Fairy Tail mage," Laxus hissed through his teeth, "I don't need to murder people in a war to prove my worth."
"Murder and war is how you stole what belonged to me," Father roared, slicing the air just before him in a wild swing. He bared his teeth when he advanced, a look of pure sadistic cruelty flashing across his face before he could wrestle it back under control.
"We're better than this now," Laxus pleaded, his tone inching higher as fear began to bleed into it, "This is nothing but savagery using history as an excuse! I'm not the wizards that killed your people, and neither is Gajeel!"
Father flinched, his smile wavering. "This isn't savagery. This is reality."
Laxus reeled back from another strike and stepped on something uneven. He knew immediately what it was just by the give beneath his foot, and in his horror and haste to step away again, he tripped and fell backwards instead. His legs twisted over a body, a dark face with vacant eyes staring off into the jungle. Blood slipped out of their nose and mouth, joining the massive amount of blood seeping into the ground and turning it slick. Laxus's vision closed in until all he could see was the man laying there, immobile. His mouth filled with the taste of bile. He'd fallen on a corpse, still warm and colorful as Erandi when he'd been rolled from the altar.
He scrambled back, realizing too late Father was stepping over the body, looming over him, raising his sword.
"You cling to your fallacies of order, call this savagery, and ignore your own hypocrisy. You lack direction, restraint, control, and you call it mercy?" Father demanded.
Like the burning light of the sun baring down on him, Laxus felt as exposed and ablaze as a man on the pyre. He couldn't move from fear, and shame, and the overwhelming feeling that no matter what he did, he would never be enough.
Reality split like the many fractals of a kaleidoscope, all folding over together on each other at once. Father was standing over him, his weapon in hand, readying its delighted finality. Laxus was on the ground in the rainforest, dragged into the undergrowth, and only knowing Father was there by the way his shape blotted out the peppering of stars. Father was limned in gold, blazing with intensity enough to blind. The screams of the damned echoed through the trees, begging for mercy, for forgiveness. He was laying in his bed as the shadow that smiled stood over him, reaching down a hand to dig into his eye and pull out the lacrima. He saw Ivan, telling him weak mages didn't have a place in this world, that they deserved to die by the hands of the strong. He heard Father's many voices, whispering and screaming and speaking in gentle, paternal tones all at the same time.
"Humans always seek to destroy that which they do not understand... but you and I share far more understanding than you have the courage to admit, little pet," Father hissed in a thousand voices, leering down at him, "You have forgotten since my teeth are no longer in you that I have touched you once already. I know who you are. I know what you have done. I've witnessed your fear, your depravity, and your rage. How many times have you fallen into your own savagery? What pain have you caused in your lack of self-control? I know every delicious time, I still taste the blood as if it were on my own teeth."
Laxus's breath left him as if he'd just been punched. Every harm he had ever done coiled around his throat like a noose: Pitting his guildmates against each other, when he and Gajeel had fled from Bianca, every time he'd fallen into his own temptation, leaving Gajeel behind, not going back when he knew there was something wrong, using Mirajane when he was at his lowest, lashing out whenever he felt helpless, losing himself in his rage against Zahir, pushing everyone away when he was fading, lying to Gajeel, taking out his grief on him, losing control of his rage on Bickslow, on Mira, on Juvia, Freed, Levy and Lily, on Gajeel, losing control... every time he'd lost control... he felt like he couldn't breathe.
"It is not your fault you were made this way. Imperfect. Afraid. Mawkish... It is ok that you are not enough. That is what gods are for," Father was smiling down on him, an infinite amount of teeth in his mouth, "I can take it all away. I can devour those things that make you ugly. I ask nothing of you... only that you come to me…"
Father opened his hand and extended it towards Laxus. Black talons glistened like dark gemstones dipped in blood. The ground around them reeked of the sweet stench of a shallow grave.
"Come, child... Feel my touch, and allow me to save you."
Laxus stared at the wicked hand before him. Inches away from a dead man and soaked in blood that wasn't his, all of his failures, his shortcomings seemed insurmountable. What an arrogant thought that someone like him could ever kill a god. Were the horrors of such an ugly world really worth dying for? His hand stirred, compelled to reach for salvation offered so freely. To be complete, to be beautiful… it was just within his reach…
"Get away from him!" Lily roared, his voice shattering the myriad of specters. They all whipped their heads around at once. There was a streak of red. Father turned just quickly enough that the black teeth of his club caught the Musica Sword before it would have sliced into his arm. Lily's fur was matted and slicked in places. His arms shook as he put his weight into keeping Father pinned beneath his blade.
"On your feet, Laxus!" Lily bellowed, and Laxus had never found it more of a comfort than in that second, "Now!"
Father let out a hiss and shovedLily off of him. The sound of obsidian screeching against steel made Laxus's mouth taste sour. He pulled himself to his feet just in time to watch Lily draw up his sword again and lunge. This time, Father didn't meet his blade. He caught Lily's forearm as he brought down his weapon, stopping his momentum. The Exceed must have been fighting hard because he was tired, his muscles trembling. Father frowned.
"I'll allow you this, that was a brave act," Father said, constricting his grip until Lily flinched, "Pointless. Stupid. But brave."
Lily's eyes snapped wide and he howled in pain, dropping his sword. He tried to jerk his arm away, but wasn't able to break free of Father's grip. Gray mushrooms began blooming down his arm, the caps melting into that black ink which suffused down into his fur. His hair began falling out, revealing the purpling, then blackening, skin beneath.. The stench of rotting flesh filled the air as his arm withered, revealing tissue, then muscle and sinew. Lily fell to knees, screaming and desperately trying to wrench free.
Rigid determination took hold of Laxus in that instant, shattering doubt. It wasn't courage. It wasn't anything he could put a name to. He simply moved without thought. He thrust the knife into Father's chest and the world shifted again, rippling like the punctured glass surface of a lake.
Father released Lily, a look of genuine surprise on his face. Laxus felt sick as he pushed into the body before him with all his weight. It wasn't like when he'd stabbed Gajeel. Gajeel's body could adjust to the blade. Laxus felt the resistance of flesh severing against his hands, every inch digging deep into Father's chest, striking bone and still thrusting. He threw his shoulder into it, his only goal to get Father as far from Lily as he could. Laxus slammed him back as the battlefield blinked from existence, and he found he had thrown the intruding god into the wall of his home.
The silence rang. The dark slime was crawling up the wall at Father's back, taking shape, blooming like mold across the drywall and staining everything like darkening bruises on pale skin. Taloned hands gripped Laxus's wrists, shaking. He heard Father's breath coming in tatters, each jagged gasp turning wetter. When Laxus forced himself to look up, he found one yellow eye wide with terror, searching around him frantically. His lips were moving, but he wasn't saying anything coherent. A bead of black pearled in the corner of his eye and slipped down his face, and then another raced after, and another, falling like tears. It trickled out his nose, streaking down his face.
He looked at Laxus for a moment like he couldn't understand what was going on or why he was there, and then he laughed. It bubbled out like broken euphoria and turned bitter, uncontrollable.
"Oh... how interesting…" he chuckled coldly, "This might kill me."
Blood splattered Laxus's chest as he still clung desperately to the blade. The body beneath him was shaking, disoriented and confused and clearly trying to figure out where he was. The golden eye dropped to the knife in his chest.
"Orotrushit?" Laxus breathed, horror robbing him of his voice. Davian's brother had been possessed, he realized, just like Gajeel thought he could be. The reality that Laxus was holding him up with a knife, pinning him to a wall, began to sink into his bones like lead.
Orotrushit met his gaze, and grinned. It was a broken thing, and breaking still, until he was only baring his teeth under dying eyes.
"Insolent wizard, do you never learn?" he hissed, wincing, "Simple, witless fool, why would you let it in?"
Laxus could hardly hear him. The sound of his heart pounding was too loud, drowning out everything else. Blood was seeping over his hands, trickling in rivulets and staining them red, hot and sticky and smelling like copper. It made him want to fall away, to be swallowed by the curse of it, to disappear. He wanted to undo what he had done. Why did he find it so easy to stab him in that instant? Because Lily was in pain he'd acted thoughtlessly, and now he was killing someone.
Dying... Orotrushit, not Father, was dying right before Laxus's eyes.
"The veil is thin..." he hissed, "Hurry up and end it."
Laxus was killing him. He was dying because Laxus was killing him.
"Dragon slayer," Orotrushit snapped tiredly, "If you're going to kill me, then do it."
Something black twined through Laxus's ribcage, hot and livid and horrible, like acid eating away at him. He'd felt it before, and welcomed it now. It was toxic and it thrived off the feeling now bubbling to the surface of him.
"Will it kill him?" Laxus asked, his voice far calmer than he thought it would be.
Laxus didn't know what expression must be on his face. He was well past sense. Orotrushit blinked at him, his grimace of a grin twisting into something that had no right being there. Laxus would have preferred wonder or maybe even confusion. That would have been better, right. What he saw instead only served to fan the flame of vengeance igniting inside of him.
"Will it kill him? Or just you?" Laxus asked again. His voice trembled but not with fear, "I've never... wanted to kill anyone. I thought I did, a long time ago, but I didn't really. And now your blood is on my hands, and it doesn't even kill that bastard."
Anger broke the surface of his despair, burning through the tangled darkness inside his chest and spilling into his vision. He felt his eye throb, a ruthless pain. He was killing Davian's brother, the brother that Laxus wasn't even sure anymore was totally evil. He was dying, blood spilling like wine and turning the air sweet with its scent. That bastard had disappeared and left his son to die? Why didn't he save his own son?
Orotrushit looked rattled, his grim smile sinking into a nervous downturn of his lips.
"That fucking coward hid and left you to die." Laxus growled, "I will kill him."
He felt something shift out of his reach, recoiling from being perceived. The black which had stretched itself across the wall sprung forward. Hands grabbed hold of him, grabbed Orotrushit. Laxus heard the chameleon's cut-off scream as they were both dragged into the cursed void. He felt the sensation of tumbling through space, and then he hit the ground. He clambered to his feet, reeling to land his eyes on Orotrushit, Lily, Father, anyone, and finding at first only that contemptible mist.
"You dare call me a coward while you squirm beneath the heel of true power? Rage, rage, pathetic little worm!"
Swarming darkness stepped out of the fog, a massive, clawed paw adorned with jet black talons. At his side, something splattered onto the ground and brought with it the fetid smell of a rotting meat, sickening and sweet. The flesh moved and Laxus's mind failed to trace the shape of it, something beneath it writhing in a way that made his skin prickle. More of it appeared and Laxus found he understood even less. A myriad of legs supported the massive trunk of a body, some the large, muscled limbs of a dragon, others the grasping, pleading hands of much smaller size. They dragged against the ground and reached for Laxus through patches of dark blue scales that clustered like engorged ticks burrowing into painful skin, skin that was sickeningly black and deep purple like blood congealing in a cold corpse, glistening with dark, foul-smelling liquid. It dragged its serpentine body behind it like a hare whose legs had been chewed by a coyote not kind enough to kill it quickly.
Laxus, upon laying his eyes on the being that stood before him, found himself unable to move. It was a rotting aberration of every relief of Oros he'd ever seen, the beautiful, feathered god languished, and turned into an amalgamation of torment twisted by hate. Seeing it in the flesh, Laxus understood why Father's children would never refer to this creature as anything other than It. To call it something else would be to diminish the horror of it, of witnessing it, of being beheld by it. He knew now that there were two types of monsters in the world; ones that were made slowly, painfully, birthed by cruel hands and called forked-tongues because they were made to swallow blood and bear their teeth, and there were monsters that were born with hatred in their veins so anathematic that it destroyed everything they touched, seeped into the very earth and ruined all that was decent and gentle and good. This was the latter of those two monsters, and it called to every ugly part inside of Laxus that he abhorred. Every weakness, every bad thought, all his vanities and hungers, laid bare and waiting like wolves to close in and tear into him. When it moved, the damned screamed and begged for mercy and forgiveness.
When Laxus blinked, it was beautiful. Once entrenched in his own world, he had seen this form while he lay on the forest floor being consumed alive. It was gold and it was hungry, angry and boiling with a thirst for retribution. It was divine and towering, enshrined in splendor and dipped in liquid light, the look of something to be worshiped, that brought salvation. It was as radiant as the morning sun breaking through the clouds and shining down on him, the eye of the storm and the dreadful standstill as the worse to come approached. It was the warmth of a father's kind and guiding touch and it was the teeth of the moray eel. In one breath a horror, in the next, a remnant of when gods walked side-by-side with mortals, their riddles ended when given definite shape. It had one eye that pierced him like the glittering tip of a spear, and another a dark and empty pit. The horde of dead but not dying sang his praises, worshiped him, prayed to him, empowered him.
Its many limbs tore forward, propelling it onward as it gripped him at the waist and snatched him from the ground. Laxus could see faces, hundreds of faces, pushing out from beneath the flesh alongside muffled screams. Father lifted him into the air, twisting to a dizzying height. What were once opalescent feathers were stained with dark, rotting sludge and now burnished a fetid brown. A huge maw filled with teeth the size of his forearms spread wide in a roar that was also a cacophony of screams. It was large and twisting into the misty forever, swaying like a tree and moving with the inevitability of a flood.
W̶e̴ ̸a̸r̵e̵ ̷f̶o̵r̸e̴v̷e̴r̷.̶
"Do you think yourself mighty with your stolen scraps of power? You are nothing! Not a man, but a parasite feeding on the crumbs that fall from the table of true gods! A mortal in all that you fear and yet you dare to desire that which is immortal? You and your kind are a plague on all existence, a plague I aim to cull."
̵W̸e̶ ̴e̴m̷b̶o̵d̸y̶ ̵p̶e̵r̷f̴e̷c̶t̶i̸o̸n̶.̶
The fingers around him constricted, and his breath was forced out of him in a painful huff. Laxus wriggled, trying to break free, to get leverage, when he was whipped through the air and sent careening into the depths of the mist. He hit the ground hard, landing on his shoulder. He gasped in a breath, wincing at burning pain that speared him through his ribcage. He could hear Father coming, the litany of dead that waited picking up their dark incantations as he approached. Laxus struggled to look up, to meet it face to face as it came for him. He gritted his teeth.
W̵e̵ ̷h̵a̷v̷e̴ ̸b̶e̴e̵n̶ ̷l̴i̵g̸h̸t̸.̵
Laxus had fought powerful mages, demons. He'd been made to face the brink of death and endure the rattling of prideful wizards who thought they'd had him down. He knew in his core that this was not the ramble of someone who thought they'd won a battle. It was feverish, unhinged, a hail-Mary attempt to scare him into submission.
̴W̴e̴ ̷h̴a̶v̷e̸ ̵c̵o̸m̵e̷ ̸f̸r̵o̵m̴ ̴s̸h̴i̸n̸i̸n̶g̷ ̸s̵t̵a̸r̶s̴
"You're nothing but a fucking coward hiding in the bodies of people who can't fight against you and forcing your will on them!" Laxus screamed into the dirt, "You left your own son to die to save yourself!"
"I empower those that I touch! I would have empowered you, blessed you with the light of a god and given you direction, redemption."
W̴e̶ ̸a̶r̸e̷ ̶i̴n̴c̶o̶n̸c̵e̴i̴v̷a̵b̵l̷y̴ ̵l̷a̸r̸g̶e̴.̸
Laxus saw a shape in the fog and knew by size and shape alone that it was Orotrushit on the ground. He knew he wasn't going to get out of this. Gajeel was right, as he always was. Father wanted him in the Otherworld where he couldn't use his magic, to spirit him away and force Gajeel to come to him. Guilt dug its fingers into him. That had been Gajeel's deepest fear: that Laxus would be hurt to get to him. And Laxus had allowed it to happen. But he wouldn't go without a fight. He would go down swinging.
I̴n̸t̷o̵ ̷t̵h̷e̵ ̶s̶h̵a̴d̵o̴w̸ ̶w̵i̷t̵h̷ ̷t̶e̶e̵t̸h̷ ̵b̴a̷r̸e̵d̴
"I don't need redemption," Laxus seethed, pushing himself onto trembling arms, dragging himself to his feet.
"Then why are you burdened by guilt? You believe yourself invincible, untouchable by the ravages of decay, when all you are is ripened fruit whose pit is spoiled."
̷T̶h̸a̸t̵ ̶w̴h̴i̷c̵h̴ ̷i̸s̶ ̷a̵b̸o̷v̵e̵
Laxus rushed for Orotrushit, running as fast as he could until he saw those brilliant blue feathers break into stark reality. They weren't glowing, and neither were his tattoos. He was just laying there like a trampled animal, dying slowly as a pool of blood spread around him. He had pulled Gajeel's knife from his chest. His eye rolled towards Laxus, and he brandished the blade before letting it drop to the ground. Laxus felt the action in the pit of his stomach, knowing somehow he'd given up, but on what? Why?
̵S̷h̷a̵l̶l̷ ̵r̴e̶f̸l̶e̵c̴t̴
Laxus fell to his knees and clutched the slicked hilt.
"I know you well," Father taunted, " you hide behind the veneer of strength, but you are as feeble as the towers you have built that crumble in the wake of time."
Something smashed into Laxus's side, sending him sprawling. His shoulder didn't feel right. Each breath sent pain radiating through his ribs. Five clawed fingers flattened him into the ground. He felt the beast's breath falling onto him, the final gasps of a thousand dead men, women, children; all whisked from their final screams like the breath being squeezedfrom him now, crushed beneath Father's weight. How many? How many had suffered under this never sleeping, never dreaming, never-ending winter of dying and never death?
̶W̷e̴ ̸a̵r̶e̷ ̷i̵m̸p̸e̵r̸c̸e̷p̶t̵i̶b̶l̴y̷ ̶s̵m̵a̶l̸l̶.̵
"I am eternal. I am relentless. I am a god, and I will wither you into dust."
Laxus plunged the knife into Father's clawed hand. The beast hardly stirred, flinched like he'd just been stung by a petulant bee. Laxus wrenched the blade free just as Father brought around his other hand and with the back of it, swiped the blade from him and sent it clattering from his reach. Laxus gritted his teeth as black edged into his vision and turned to watch where it had landed. He already knew it was folly to hope it would be within reach.
̷W̴e̷ ̸w̶i̷l̵l̸ ̷r̷e̶t̷u̸r̶n̷ ̶t̴o̷ ̴b̵l̴a̵c̷k̴ ̵h̵o̶l̵e̶s̶.̴
"Insolent little worm..." he sneered. Fetid, noxious liquid dripped from its maw and Laxus wretched., "You cannot stop the inevitable. You cannot deny the divine. How fortunate it is for you that even worms have purpose… so long as they stay in the garden.
̴W̸e̶ ̸w̴i̸l̷l̸ ̴b̴e̵ ̵d̸a̴r̶k̵.̶
Laxus couldn't expand his lungs to breathe. His chest ached. The weight of the monster on top of him was too much to bear. As oxygen deprivation vignetted his vision with shadow, his mind pitched to thoughts of Gajeel. Was this what it was like to be crushed by the heavy hand of Jose? To be stripped of what made you strong and forced to bend the knee to something that despised you, while it whispered it was showing you compassion, mercy? To watch it kill and have that threat hanging low over your head? He remembered the dark look in Gajeel's eyes when he spoke of Jose and his atrocities, how the light would drain and then they'd turn murky and torpid as a shadow of who he used to be rose to the surface.
̷W̸e̷ ̴a̸r̶e̴ ̵O̷r̸o̵s̷.̴
"He was like a god to us, untouchable..."
Gajeel had always been terrified of Jose, and yet a wicked grin would cross his face. He would bare his sharper teeth and the dragon in him would come clawing up from his indomitable spirit. He'd landed a hit on him once, just once
̷W̷e̷ ̵a̴r̶e̶ ̴e̶t̶e̴r̷n̵a̶l̵.̷
"Gods can't bleed... but a man can."
Laxus couldn't struggle any longer, sure the weight atop him would break the cracks he was sure already threatened his ribcage. He rolled his head to the side and glared at Gajeel's knife so far out of his reach. Reflected back at him was not the polished, dark surface of iron. The blade was wet with glowing, golden ichor which faded into necrose black blood.
I̴n̸t̷o̵ ̷t̵h̷e̵ ̶s̶h̵a̴d̵o̴w̸ ̶w̵i̷t̵h̷ ̷t̶e̶e̵t̸h̷ ̵b̴a̷r̸e̵d̴
Author's Notes:
"I wonder..." the sphinx spoke silkily, baring her teeth, "Do you know the danger you are in? You sit there at the table bleeding yourself thin. Do you know? Do you know? When you hear the knock, knock, knocks... it can't come in unless you open the door, unless you let it touch you..."