He was drowning.
Natsu desperately kicked, trying to reach the surface, his outstretched hand reaching for anything, anyone. His lungs were burning from the lack of oxygen, screaming for him to breathe, the dizziness almost unbearable. His world was becoming darker, murkier as he sunk. No matter how hard he kicked, how far he swam, his hand never broke the surface.
Natsu couldn't hold out any longer. Water filled mouth rushing into his lungs and dragging him down further. His frantic movements had ceased and he was pulled further and further down. Helpless to resist, he let the ocean take him.
His body landed amongst the coral at the bottom of the reef, sending a cloud of sand up from the impact. He found it oddly beautiful, the view from the bottom. Light refracted off the ocean's surface and the fish that had initially scattered when he landed, now swam freely around him. Natsu let the ocean wash away his worries, his fear of death, swept away in the current. It all seemed so trivial now.
It wasn't the worst place to die , Natsu thought, his sight growing dimmer, lonely though .
He didn't notice her until she stood above him, smiling as if he was an old friend she'd had the pleasure of running into. Her long blond hair floated in the depths, spread out like a halo around her, as fish swam through her, unbothered by either of their presence.
Natsu wondered if she'd decided to die here too.
A pair of clownfish peaked through the locks of her blonde hair and she frowned for a moment, before clasping her hands together. A light shone, forming between her palms, and Natsu could feel magic pulsing through the ocean. Her spell illuminated him before it all went black.
Natsu Dragneel…just what are you?
The memory of his sins kept Jellal awake most nights.
He had regained some of his memory during his imprisonment, none of it pleasant, but it helped him piece together the extraordinary disaster that was his life. Slavery, torture, insanity and death haunted his every breath. Jellal almost preferred not remembering, but that would have been the same as denying it. He had done those things, hurt so many people, killed .. tortured even, in his frantic pursuit of Zeref. He couldn't even apologise, not that he expected it to fix anything. He'd left too many bodies in his wake and it had all caught up to him. He deserved to be in this cell. He deserved to be dead. Yet the thought of death, of using his own death to escape the punishment brought upon him left a sour taste in his mouth, worse than the meagre rations they fed him.
He was committed to atonement.
Jellal could never wash away his sins, they would haunt him in this life and the next. He could, however, stay perfectly still and reflect on every wrong turn he'd ever made. It left a worse taste in his mouth…doing nothing…yet if that was the path of repentance he'd been given, he would walk it, without complaint.
So, even when the perfect opportunity presented itself to escape, Jellal remained in his cell. Not even granting a cursory glance at the cell walls which had dissipated.
Until Ultear had shown up.
Of course it had to be her.
Out of the memories that had returned, the ones surrounding her were the most difficult to decipher. He now knew it was her voice in his head that day in the tower, the voice that destroyed his life. However, it didn't absolve him of the sins he had committed. He wanted to hate her, to scream at her all the hateful things imaginable. A part of him did loathe her, but a larger, more mature, part understood. He had done those things because he wanted to. Her gentle words may have been the encouragement, but he'd always had those thoughts. Jellal had taken that first step down his dark path willingly.
They were one in the same, foolish children who'd played a game far beyond them. One they never had a chance to win.
She stood before him and offered him her hand once again.
Except this time, they wouldn't be the people they once were. Never again would he allow himself or anyone else to fall like he had.
I vow, no matter the cost, I will destroy Zeref.
Jellal let Ultear lead him towards atonement.
Macao hadn't heard from Natsu for months. No one had. The boy, who had once been the light able to light up a room with a smile (or his fists) had disappeared from their sights, locking himself away. The last time anyone had physically seen him was when he had stumbled through the guild doors, looking as devastated as the day he returned. Natsu had decided to visit the guild that day, for reasons unknown. He hadn't stayed long, practically bolting out the doors when Macao had approached him. That was almost 6 months ago.
They had tried to coax him out, in their own ways. Jet tried to goad him into a fight, Alzack and Bisca would invite him on jobs, Kinana left food at his door, Reedus and Droy would leave gifts of small paintings and plants on the steps to his house. Macao and Wakaba had stayed outside his door and tried to talk to him. They would sit for hours, talking to the night air, reminiscing on better times.
But he would never open the door.
They'd considered breaking it open on more than one occasion. One night, Macao had been fed up. He was exhausted from trying to keep the guild afloat, from comforting Romeo who had been crying late into the night, and the stress of it all had finally gotten to him. Perhaps it was because Wakaba hadn't been with him that night, but he began slamming his fists on the door, the wood threatening to crack beneath as he released some of his magic power.
And that's when it happened.
Whatever had spoken to him, it wasn't Natsu. It may have sounded like him, but that wasn't him, Macao was sure of it. It had whispered, so quietly, at him to leave. But it wasn't the sound that frightened him. The air itself turned stale and heavy, pressing against his skin, weighing him down and seeping into his pores. The magical presence emanating from behind the sealed door made him breathless and dizzy, it poked and prodded in his mind, bringing forward every bad thought, every negative emotion to the forefront. Terror, rage, hatred, disappointment, grief, agony. He experienced it all in the fraction of a second that had come since the voice spoke. His pulse roared in his ears, for a moment Macao was unable to see, nor hear the world around him. The sound of his own screams echoed in his mind yet he could not open his mouth.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
It was not his finest moment, but his survival instinct kicked in and told him to get the hell out of there. So he did.
Unsure of what to say, or how to even describe what had happened (Had anything really happened? Was he losing it?) Macao told the guild to give Natsu some space, to hope that he would return to them in his own time. Macao had never returned to his house after that day. The others came and went, continuing their little rituals, but Macao could never get further than the river that circled the forest. The ones who didn't visit, waited patiently for Natsu, most days staring at the doors waiting for him to come waltzing through and solve all their problems.
He never did.
Now, a mere six months after their deaths, Macao had the unfortunate task of informing Natsu of the guild's closure. Despite his apprehension, and quiet terror, Macao still cared for Natsu, wishing once again that he had come to deliver better news. His body had almost folded under the weight of what lay ahead, yet it remained his burden to bear, unwilling to pass it off to anyone else. Macao just hoped he was up to the task.
"Chin up Macao, it's like pulling a bandaid. Just gotta get it done."
Wakaba clasped his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze, before striding on ahead of him, leaving a puff of smoke in his wake. Gods above he was glad Wakaba volunteered to come with him.
Ignoring the way the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, Macao steeled himself and walked further into the woods. Though there was a well worn path to follow, one which they had trekked many times over the past few months, the overgrown forest floor and dim moonlight made for a difficult walk. Aside from their rather loud footfalls, and the occasional deep exhale of smoke from Wakaba, they kept silent. As did the woods around him. Macao supposed he should use the time to think of what to say, but nothing would come to him. He would get a sentence in before realising how hollow it sounded. Macao exhaled, his breath coming out in a puff that steamed in the cold winter air. What a failure he was, having to disappoint another kid.
Romeo had taken it hard. The poor boy had been crying for days after Tenrou Island was destroyed. To then tell him that his dream of joining Fairy Tail would never come true…it broke Macaos heart. The pain that nested in his heart now, it was different then what he had felt when telling Romeo. He hadn't wanted to bring his son more disappointment, more misery, but Natsu…while Macao genuinely cared for him, but he almost feared how he would react.
Ridiculous, wasn't it?
The same kid that used to cling to his legs, who used to follow him around and beg him to show him tricks, was now sending jolts of fear racing into his heart. He was pathetic, wasn't he?
They reached the end of the well trodden path far sooner than he'd wanted. The sign that read "Natsu and Happy's House" greeted the two of them. A ramshackle building loomed ahead of the two, vines had overtaken the sides of the building and the grass that covered the front had grown up to Macaos waist. It was an uninviting sight that did little to calm Macaos growing nerves.
Wakaba whistled, "Phew, he has really let it go, huh? Maybe we should bring Droy out here again for him."
"I doubt even Droy could fix this."
Macao waded through the grass, praying that whatever creatures lurked inside would be scared off by his steps. He considered burning the grass, before shaking his head. The last thing he wanted was Natsu to assume he was being attacked…or to attract unnecessary attention. Macao knew too well the type of monsters that lived in these woods. Safe to say, Natsu was the only mage crazy enough to make his home here. Though, now that he thought about it…it was eerily quiet. He hadn't heard the usual animal calls on their way in, nor was there anything skittering around at the moment. It was like nature itself feared to tread here. Macao looked up, observing the sky for a long moment.
No birds…weird.
"Hey Wakaba…Do you think it's odd that we haven't seen a single animal on the way here?"
Wakaba looked over to Macao, still wading through the grass, "Huh. Hadn't noticed. Guess it's weird but we could have scared them off." He shrugged, not looking particularly disturbed by the revelation, instead frowning as he lifted his foot out of a well concealed puddle.
Was Macao being paranoid? Maybe. Looking for distraction? Definitely. However his well trained instincts, a culmination of skill from all his years as a mage, were screaming at him.
They shouldn't have come here.
The air was still. An oppressive aura emanated from the house, its heavy weight slowing their every step. It was with great effort that Macao reached the door. The cottage that had once looked homely in its disrepair was now downright disturbing. The plants; twisted and gnarled, the walls; cold and uninviting. It contained something terrible within, something that should not be disturbed.
Despite it all, despite every well cultivated and routinely exercised instinct, Macao opened the door.
Despite everything, it was still Natsu , he reasoned.
Macao's world exploded, bathed in hell fire before he could even wonder what had become of the child they loved so dearly.
What a terrible way to die…at the hand of a friend…
That night, the night Fairy Tail disbanded, a wildfire began.
It had started small, just a wildfire within Magnolia's own boundary forest, something citizens expected to be dealt with before they had a chance to finish their morning coffee. Perhaps an overzealous camper, or maybe a territorial monster? The cause was never known, but it wasn't of great concern. Fires in Magnolia were never a problem, their city was home to possibly the greatest fire mage in Fiore! Between Natsu's gluttonous nature and his habit of snacking on flames, the fire should have been gone before the Council could even know about it.
Yet the Salamander never came.
It had started slow. With no mage guild of their own anymore, Magnolia's mayor had sent a request to the council for aid, as well as a calling in a few personal favours from nearby guilds. Then the rumours started. Whispers of a fire that not even the famed Wizard Saint Jura could contain. In the coming days, mages of all disciplines, of all guilds, began to gather in Magnolia. Some seeking the glory, others worrying that the growing flame would soon reach their homes and most wanting to catch a glimpse of this supposed 'Eternal Flame'.
Nothing worked. Water, ice, wind- Barriers, dispel, suppression- no form of magic in fiore slowed the flames for long. Ever persistent, the fire continued north. The most peculiar aspect was that the flames lacked magical energy. One of the few facts that all parties agreed on was that despite there being no magical signature or presence, the flames were not naturally occurring. They moved with purpose and intelligence, and seemingly infinite as well. The fire may have burned what lay in front of it, yet it should have burned out long ago, especially with all they had thrown at it. Finely attuned mages, those most sensitive to the ethernano in the air, believed it harnessed a primal, long forgotten power, the name of which was lost to time. However it remained mere speculation. Zeref was a name often tossed around in association with the mysterious fire. It was the only name that ever stuck, though the council officially denied this claim as well.
As the flames approached Magnolia, evacuations were called, barriers placed and a legion of Fiore's finest mages and Knights stood on guard, ready to halt the flames at any cost. Yet when it reached the forest's edge, it did not continue forward. Miraculously, the flames bypassed the city entirely. It continued its trek, undisturbed as it followed the forest's edge, never once touching the city limits.
The process repeated with all stops; Clover, Oak Town, Hargeon and even Era. The flames never diminished, nor grew from its original size. They would leave nothing in their wake but barren earth and ash. All plant life burned before it, all man made structures, erected to slow it, melted as it passed through. However not a single building was razed, nor city burned.
In its wake, it left destruction, yet it sought no violence. It did not deviate from its path, nor did it defend itself from the attacks that were levelled against it. The flames would continue, ever forward, in search of something unknown to them.
Its non-aggressive nature led to a great deal of tourism as researchers, mages and enraptured citizens alike followed in its wake, curious of its next destination. Rumours circled of a mysterious figure that could sometimes be seen in the blaze. On nights, when the weather was just right, some would claim that wreathed in flame, a person would appear, only to be consumed by the fire once again. It was never confirmed, though many believed this to be a publicity stunt to increase sales amongst the merchants who followed the flame.
"The Eternal Flame, " Vendors would say, "See now Fiore's 13th Magical Marvel!"
Fiore's greatest collection of minds and magic tried for months to halt the blaze. Then to understand it. Theories of a great curse, of divine retribution or Ragnarök were levelled, yet nothing held under the weight of scrutiny. There seemingly was no rhyme nor reason for what nor why.
It simply was.
An answer that Chairman Org despised, yet could not refute.
As Fairy Tail was no longer an active guild, and its members no longer reporting to them, the Council failed to locate Natsu Dragneel in time to assist with the efforts. Those closest to him would assume that once he heard of the disbandment, he had isolated himself in some far-off remote region, somewhere so removed from society that he had no clue of what had occurred. Perhaps he had gone back to wherever Makarov had initially found him, or expanded his continuous search for his father to other continents. A certain magazine even claimed that much in the same way all dragons had disappeared, he did too. A relic of a bygone era, fading into legend…
Whatever the case, the council's file on Natsu Dragneel only contained 3 things: his name, magic and a hefty file of misdemeanor charges. Beyond that, nothing else was known to them about the Salamander, so the matter was ultimately dropped after weeks of no leads.
5 months, 17 days, 14 hours and 6 minutes after its appearance, the fire crossed the Alvarez/Fiore Border and the mages of Ishgal wiped their hands clean of the problem.
Strangely, the flame had not been deterred by the ocean between them and had continued towards the continent, despite what experts had initially believed. Its slow unrelenting pace did not waver as it crossed the ocean, the fire continuing over the water's surface, as if unfazed. It continued ever forward, as persistent as when it started.
Had Fiore been on friendly terms with Alvarez, perhaps they may have lent their assistance, or at very least their research notes, but political tensions as they were, only one letter was sent as a warning of the approaching disaster. A precaution really, lest Alvarez believe they had launched some form of attack against them for their last invasion attempt. It was the day that the single, sloppy written and poorly packaged letter reached the Emperor's seat, that the Fire had reached the city.
…Zeref…