Black Light

By Rasdra

Prologue

With the passage of time, tiny defects accumulate and, without maintenance these weaknesses become cracks which eventually grow until reaching the breaking point.

The 'Darkness' of Fairy Tail, known to a few as 'Lumen Histoire' and sealed within a hidden chamber is awakening. At the turn of a century since the guild's formation, with the Guild's strongest mages missing, the wards activating to alert the Guild Master went unheard. The additional loss of power to the guild due to the continuous absence of the strongest members accelerated the decay of the seal exponentially -beyond what should have been possible. And, three years later, five years after the disappearance at Tenrou Island, the last binding crumbles to dust.

There is no great explosion, no sense of foreboding or anticipation, no detectable change and no witnesses.

Inside the once-sealed chamber, green eyes open and corroded chains fall.

Pain.

His existence had been defined by that word for so long, leaving little space for rational thought or consciousness. It was maddening, the feeling of his soul being stretched out by hooks, drawing power from him and in their place chaining him ever tighter in a vicious spiral of ceaseless, excruciating pain. Be it the tiniest nematode worm or the largest sentient neural network, any being with the capability to comprehend itself would be driven from sanity in the drive to escape, so great was his agony. It is a natural survival mechanism, to escape that which harms or threatens to harm an existence. However there was no escape from this cage.

When escape isn't possible, the next defence is offence.

It wasn't with any sort of plan or deliberation that he resisted. It was the simple, powerful hardwiring at the core of all life that hid reserves of strength to exploit any and all weaknesses, to fight back.

He had been betrayed by those he trusted and so came the hooks. A great deal of time had passed since then, the only changes being the fluctuation in the size and number of hooks. There had been a steady increase in the number of them over the years. Each hook attached to a chain with a metaphysical link to a member of the guild Fairy Tail. A hook appeared in the same place as their guild tattoo. All of the hooks continuously bled small amounts of energy from him into a central 'reserve.' As a mage's power increased, the hook would grow and bury itself deeper. Determination and heightened emotions, typically present during difficult battles activated a period of sustained absorption, allowing for hidden reserves within the mages to be accessed and them to continue on past their limits also reducing the damage caused by exceeding natural limits.

A scholar would marvel at the system and its potential for use in so many ways. The concept was, at its heart similar to how a generator charges batteries and provides energy to components attached to a circuit. This energy seemed to be self-renewing and limitless. But the true beauty was in how the drained energy fed a reserve that looped back and strengthened the chains, allowing for more energy to be drawn and less resistance from the captive. He was a being outside of Life, never truly meant to be restrained. He would fight these bindings and escape, time was on his side after all.

The catalyst to his escape was the introduction of a new hook through his hand, of above average size but still much smaller than some of the others. A series of intense battles and use of spells indicated that a major change in the balance was about to occur. Even with the more painful and exhausting drain than usual, He was aware of this subtle shift. He waited.

It was an indistinct amount of time later that a massive drain occurred before all of the largest chains froze. This included those of the Guild Master and his highest subordinates. The hooks were still there, so the mages weren't dead, but the hooks and chains were inactive, no drain and no pain from them. Even unconscious, he marveled at the difference it made. While a large number of hooks remained, they were minor annoyances in comparison, the drain feeling almost negligible.

Finally.

He got to work. Every little weak point, no matter how tiny, reinforced or well defended was hammered with the strength of magic no longer stolen. He worked as quickly and precisely as he could manage in the circumstances, still ridiculously weak and in pain. There didn't seem to be much difference, but giving up had never been a concept he understood.

Even so, no remarkable headway was made for some time until a certain anniversary came up. The anniversary was that of a century passing since he had been sealed; 100 was not normally the most powerful number available. But in this case the runic array used was three interwoven circles around a seven point pentagram, making the number 10 a significant number and 100 tenfold in that significance.

Had the seal been properly maintained and Fairy Tail as strong as even three years previous, there would have been an influx in strength to the seal. Instead the influx was towards the weakening of the seal, setting off a ward that no one would be alerted to.

With this boost, He was encouraged, a tiny spark of hope truly settling for the first time in so long. The being continued his efforts and first tiny cracks appeared. Then they grew. Then the cracks met and entire sections became severely compromised. The magic of the seal, while not anything close to resembling sentience, fought back. It tightened the chains, enlarging them, made the pain increase again. But to do this the seal drew on the 'reserve' as only the mage members influenced the drain from the hooks.

Beaten back, He redoubled his efforts, despite the distracting agony. He knew that he might not be able to take advantage of a second opportunity, should he miss this chance, so he pushed on. His battered will against the cracked and damaged seal. There was a point where neither made any progress, a stalemate of desperation and raw stubbornness.

Something had to give.

Something did, the seal crumbled, defeated by Him.

Green eyes opened for the first time in over a hundred years. Tightly bound limbs dropped as the chains and hooks turned to dust and his bloody, scar covered body dropped to the Earth. He would consider trying to move, (or even stand,) later, but for now the only thing on his mind was sleep. Blissful darkness claimed him, warm and safe.