They win the war. The world doesn't end. Countless lives are saved. Everything is fine and they win . Except— Except it doesn't feel like a win.

Levy watches, tucked carefully underneath Lily's arm as if he's still afraid she's going to try and run, as her guildmates - her family - celebrate with each other. She bites her bottom lip and doesn't bother to wipe away the tears as she watches them laugh and embrace each other, happy tears sliding down their faces as they hold each other tightly, crying 'we won, we won!' over and over.

She can see Natsu laughing hysterically as he swings Lucy round and round, can spot Wendy squeezing Erza's midriff while she runs a soothing hand through her hair, spies the Raijinshuu huddled around Laxus, desperately clinging on to each other as if they can't believe this is real, that they've all survived, that they're all alive.

A pained sob slips from her lips as she watches Sabertooth join the impromptu celebrations, Sting cheering loudly as he drapes himself across Natsu's shoulders, followed by Blue Pegasus and Lamia Scale and— Another sob because even Crime Sorciere are there, laughing and celebrating and crying and it hurts. It hurts so much. Hurts because they're all celebrating their win and she doesn't understand how they can, because it's so obvious - so painfully obvious - that someone is missing.

She feels Lily's grip on her tighten a little, feels the way he shifts slightly so she can bury her face in his chest to muffle the sound of her screams.

.

.

.

It takes a while for the pain to lessen to a degree that's at least a little bearable.

It still hurts. Still takes far too long for her to fall asleep at night. Still results in her waking up after barely an hour, skin glistening with a fresh coat of sweat, a scream tearing through her lungs as she fumbles around for a comforting warmth that's no longer there, curled up by her side. Still leaves her wandering listlessly around his apartment, dressed in his old shirts because she can still smell him , and if she can still smell him, is he really gone? (No, she tells herself, no. ) Still has her avoiding the guild because she can't — She can't deal with sympathetic stares and consoling hugs and everything else that comes with this all consuming feeling of grief she can't shake.

But it's bearable now.

She gets a least a few hours sleep before the nightmares start. She remembers to get up in the morning and run a comb through her hair, brush her teeth, put fresh clothes on - even if the clothes are his. She remembers to check in with Jet and Droy and Lily, remembers to let them know she's fine - even if she's not. Remembers to leave his apartment at least once a week to pass through Lucy's place because, if she doesn't, Lucy worries and she has to deal with Natsu and Gray and Erza and a sheepish looking Lucy banging down her (his) door.

It hurts, but at least it's bearable now.

Except, sometimes it's not bearable.

Sometimes she feels like she's drowning. Like she's floating underwater, gasping for air as she claws uselessly for some sort of reprieve only to sink lower and lower and lower and—

Sometimes the pain is so tangible, so real, she thinks it might hurt less for someone to take a knife to her heart.

Sometimes the only thing she can do is cry. She cries a lot, bundled in his blankets, clinging to the last vestige of his scent, shoulders shaking, breath stuttering, until she tires herself out and falls asleep.

Though sleep isn't much of a blessing either. She has the same nightmare every time. Replays that day over and over and over again until the image of him disappearing is practically burned into her retinas.

Though it's not like she'd ever be able to forget anyway.

.

.

.

She's not sure how long he's been gone for - has it been days, has it been weeks, has it been months ? - but she eventually has to concede that enough is enough, that it's time to make good on her promise.

She spends most of her free time (she has a lot of that these days) replaying his final words in her mind.

She's memorised it word for word. Remembers the way his voice sounds when he says her name for the last time. Remembers the way it cracks slightly when he tells Lily to make sure she gets home (redundant, because can it be a home if he's not there?) safely. Remembers the way he begs her to live life to the fullest - for the both of us. Remembers her promise to him.

Remembers her promise to save him.

Dying is a lot scarier than he'd given it credit for.

Gajeel wishes he could say he doesn't have any regrets. Wishes he could say he's lived a good life, a full life, and that he's more than happy to move on to the next chapter.

But that would be a lie.

In truth, he has a lot of regrets - more than he can count, more than he wants to count - and he knows, better than anyone, that the life he's lived can be called neither good nor full. And, more than anything, he's not ready to move on.

There was a time where he thought he was ready. A time where he would've welcomed the prospect of simply not being with open arms. A time where he wasn't entirely sure the world had much more to offer him other than the pitiful existence he'd been calling a life for the last two decades or so. But times change, people change— He's changed.

It startles even him sometimes, but he's become the type of person who looks forward to the future. The type of person who can sit back and imagine a fulfilled life stretching out in front of them. A long life filled with happy memories and laughter and a family of his own with her by his side.

He wants that.

He doesn't want to die. Not now. He wants to live and have a chance at making this image of the future in his mind a reality.

Maybe this is what people call irony.

Because, isn't it ironic that he's spent an entire lifetime not caring if he lives or dies, that when he finally - finally - finds a reason to survive, when he finally finds the light he's been searching for all these years, he learns his time is up?

Ironic, or maybe...maybe just cruel.

.

.

.

He doesn't remember passing out but, when he opens his eyes and finds himself in a forest, staring up at an endlessly black sky, he realises he must have.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the suffocating darkness that surrounds him, but he eventually realises he's alone. He can hear muffled murmurs and hushed wailing and the sounds of footsteps shuffling around him, but he can't see anyone. There's no sign of Bradman, no sign of Lily, no sign of Levy. No sign of anything really, save for crooked trees with branches contorting and twisting upwards to claw at the dark, starless, sky.

He feels something stalk pass him. He can't see it, but he can feel it brush against his arm as it glides past, he can hear it murmuring something over and over and over again - a prayer, maybe?

He's not sure how long he stands there waiting for some kind of reprieve from the darkness that never comes, listening to hurried prayers and pained wails from things he can't see as they brush past him, making their way to a destination unknown.

Eventually, he starts to move as well. There's no discernible path for him to follow but, somehow, he knows which way to go. He feels something tugging at him, something guiding and coaxing him, like a siren's call. The trees to seem to part for him as he inches forwards, wrapping themselves tightly around him so he can't turn back or deviate from the path he's chosen.

And so he walks.

Walks on and on, and joins the rest of the lost souls wandering aimlessly through this forest of death, looking for their final resting place.

She throws herself into her books, even more so than before.

Books are safe, books are smart, books are wise. She's never had a problem she hasn't been able to solve without the help of a book before, and she's not about to start now, not when so much rides on it.

She stays tucked away in her favourite corner of the guild's library until the early hours of the morning, only leaving when Jet or Droy or Lily finally say enough and force her to leave. She notes their relieved smiles when they pop their heads around the corner and see her thumbing through old tomes with a mountain of books piled up high beside her. Notices the way they murmur 'finally ' between themselves, thinking everything is slowly returning back to normal and she's simply losing herself in the latest bestseller, and not searching for something - anything - that could help save him.

But there's only so much she can learn from the books they keep in the guild. So she moves on to the next best source she knows of.

"And to what do I owe the honour of this wonderful, yet admittedly unexpected, visit?" Warrod says kindly, gesturing for Levy to take a seat around his cluttered table. He smiles as he joins her around the table, but it's not the jovial grin she's come to expect from the aged mage. It's strained and doesn't quite meet his eyes.

His movements are more sluggish than she remembers, his expressions slightly pained as he groans quietly and settles himself into the comfortable looking chair opposite hers. She probes her mind for everything she knows about his brief battle with God Serena and realises, sadly, that the war has taken its toll on him too.

She smiles softly - a smile she knows is just as strained and as forced as his - and places her hand over his, giving him a gentle squeeze. "Is everything alright Warrod?"

"I'm an old man with old wounds," he laughs, (a laugh that's just as stiff, just as wrong, as his smile) and leans into his armchair, fixing her with a calculating stare. "But isn't that the question I should be asking you? How are—" He pauses, obviously searching around for the right way of phrasing his question. "How are things?"

She hears the emphasis on the word things and knows exactly what he's asking, because it's the same thing everyone has been tiptoeing around, afraid she'll finally snap. "You mean, how am I coping?"

Warrod nods, any pretense of a smile dropping from his face in favour of concerned frown. "When I heard the news, I couldn't believe— Well. I didn't want to believe."

Levy nods, because she understands that only too well, the desire not to believe the reality you've been faced with.

"It must be a difficult time for your guild," he says slowly, eyeing her carefully as if he's afraid if he says the wrong thing, she might break. "But, I think, a particularly difficult time for you."

She doesn't say anything - doesn't need to say anything - because it's clear he already knows just how hard this is for her. It's clear to everyone just how hard this is.

"It's important," Warrod continues, leaning forwards slightly to place his hand over hers, the strained yet somehow comforting smile back on his features. "It's important to allow yourself the time to mourn. Nobody will begrudge you that."

"I have mourned."

Warrod hums, still staring at her like he knows she's lying, but he doesn't press it. Instead, he leans back into his chair and threads his fingers together. "You haven't told me what prompted today's visit yet."

"I wanted— I want information," she says quietly, dropping her gaze to glance around his cluttered living room, taking in the piles and piles of dog-eared books that fill his many bookshelves, or poke out from underneath plant pots.

Warrod fidgets slightly in his armchair, nodding his head a little as a sign for her to continue.

"What do you know about—" She pauses, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "What do you know about the underworld?" She hears Warrod's sharp intake of breath and tries to force a look of innocence onto her face.

"Levy," Warrod says slowly, "I don't know the circumstances behind his dea—"

"He's not dead," Levy says sharply, fists bunching up the fabric of her skirt to stop herself from shaking. "He's not dead."

Because he can't be dead, because death is final and she can't save him from something as final as death. But if he's not dead, then she can save him. She has to save him.

"He is in a place we cannot reach," Warrod says softly, that sympathetic look she's come to despise shining in his eyes. "For all intents and purposes, he is dea—"

"Please," Levy whispers, voice cracking slightly. "Please, don't. Don't say it."

Warrod sighs and, for a moment, she's sure he's going to ignore her pleas and continue on, but he doesn't. Instead, he pushes himself up from his seat and moves towards the nearest bookshelf. Levy watches, half curious, half wary, as he crouches down and scans the shelf, humming thoughtfully to himself before he tugs a thin book from it and makes his way back to the table.

"I'm telling you this," he says sternly as he settles himself back into his seat, running a finger down the spine of the book. "Not to encourage you, but to give you closure . Where he is, you cannot follow." He sighs again before sliding the book towards her. "The tale of Izanami and Izanagi, have you heard it before?"

She shakes her head, the names are unfamiliar. "I don't think I have."

Warrod shrugs. "A tale of two lovers who don't get a happy ending? It's unsurprising it's not more popular."

"Two lovers?" Levy echoes, flipping through the pages of the book, wishing she'd had the foresight to bring her glasses.

"Two Gods," Warrod says. "Two of the earliest Gods I believe. They forged islands and mountains and much of the terrain we see today and, inevitably, fell in love." He sighs again, reaching across the table to gently tug the book from Levy's hands so he can flip the pages onto the first page. "They fell in love and had a child together. But, alas, it was not meant to be. Izanami died during childbirth and Izanagi, stricken with grief, undertook a journey to the underworld, determined to bring her back."

For a moment or two, Levy feels hope bloom in her chest. "And does he?"

Warrod chuckles dryly. "Remember this tale doesn't have a happy ending, my dear."

The hope evaporates as quickly as it came.

"By the time Izanagi found his wife, it was too late for her to return. She'd eaten food from the hearth of the underworld and could no longer return to the world of the living. However, Izanagi refused to leave his love, that is, until he saw what she had become."

"What she became?"

"The underworld changes you, my dear. It starves you of life, turns you into something unrecognisable." Warrod says sadly. "The woman Izanagi had once known was no more. The beautiful, graceful woman he had once loved was now nothing more than a rotting form of flesh, the very essence of death."

Something unpleasant settles in the pit of her stomach.

"Terrified and repulsed, Izanagi abandoned his death-ridden wife and ran to return back to the land of the living. Izanami chased after him, furious that her love would abandon her, but she was too slow. Izanagi broke free from the underworld and placed an impenetrable barricade across the entrance that Izanami could not pass through. Distraught and furious, Izanami promised to steal 1000 souls of the living everyday to punish him for his betrayal."

"How does she steal souls if she can't leave?"

"Her Shinigami," Warrod says, cocking his head to the side. "I believe— I believe you met one of them."

"Bradman."

How could she forget him? The face that continues haunts her nightmares, taunting her as he drags Gajeel down, down, down—

"Yes, but he is just one of many, tasked with the chore of bringing 1000 souls to the underworld to satisfy Izanami and fulfil her eternity long vendetta against Izanagi. Once Izanami has a soul, she won't let it go."

"Has anyone tried?"

"Well," Warrod frowns. "I suppose not."

"Then how do you know?" There it is again, that feeling of hope blooming steadily in her chest once more, threatening to engulf her entirely. "What's to stop someone from going there an—"

Warrod laughs that hollow laugh again, shaking his head sympathetically at her. "The underworld isn't somewhere you can visit so easily."

She nods, because she expects that answer. She doesn't expect it to be easy but— "Zeref did."

A wave of guilt washes over her as she hears Warrod's sharp inhale, but she forces herself to plough on. "His demons. They were from the underworld." She remembers their battle with Tartoros, remembers Mard Geer, the self proclaimed King of the Underworld. "How did Zeref get them?"

Warrod nods slowly. "Zeref— Zeref did many, many, terrible things during his life. He dabbled in magic I would not even dare to dream of, and you shouldn't either."

Levy squirms in her seat, feeling tears pricking at her eyes. "But it's possible, and if it's possible— If it's possible, I have to try. I can't leave him. I can't. I—"

She doesn't realise she's crying - that she's shaking - until Warrod moves his way around the table and wraps his arms around her and squeezes tightly.

"My dear, my dear," he murmurs, running a hand down her back, voice thick with his own sadness. "Do not allow grief to consume you and send you down a path from which you cannot return."

"I promised—

Warrod pulls back and offers her a shaky smile. "You who are so full of life, so full of light, shouldn't dwell on something as dark as death."

"He's not dead," she gasps through tears, barely caring that her vision is beginning to blur. "He didn't die , he doesn't deserve to be there. He had a future— He has a future."

"There is no future you can give him rifling through Zeref's old books," Warrod says softly. "That will only lead you down the path of darkness. Down a path you won't be able to return from. Live your life the way he would've wanted."

She wants to tell him that she can't, because the life he would've wanted - the life he did want - involved him standing by her side, but she can't.

The tears are flowing freely now, choked sobs spilling from her lips as she collapses into Warrod's arms praying for an end to this all-consuming feeling of grief washing over her in painful waves.

He's not sure how long it's been. The lack of any discernible method to tell the time turns this endless journey into one long night, and he's scared.

Terrified, really.

He can handle the suffocating darkness that presses in on him from all angles, can handle the trees that wrap themselves around him as he inches forward, crooked branches acting like a barrier to stop him from turning back on himself, can handle the wailing and the praying and the murmurs and the other pained sounds that echo constantly throughout the forest.

What he can't handle is being able to see .

It starts off slow at first. He starts to see blurry, vaguely human looking, shapes in his periphery every now and then. At first, he puts it out of his mind - tells himself it's just a trick of light and tries to ignore the fact there is no light in this forest. But then the disembodied wails stop being disembodied and he starts being able to put faces to the sounds he hears constantly echoing around him.

There's a woman walking next to him. Face gaunt, hair matted, eyes hollow, devoid of any emotion whatsoever, hands pressed tightly to her chest as she marches on, repeating the same prayer over and over again.

There's a child not far ahead with a perpetually snivelly nose, crying out for someone - his mother? - until his voice grows hoarse.

There's a man close by, a neverending stream of blood gushing from a wound on his chest, groaning loudly as he limps on forwards. There's— There are so many people - so many lost souls, just like him - stumbling through the forest in varying stages of dishevelment, with hollow eyes and rotting skin and—

Death.

So much death.

He tries to turn back and run because he doesn't belong here - he's not dead , he's alive and this isn't fair and he's scared - but the branches curve themselves around him, twigs interlocking tightly to create a thick barrier, refusing to let him deviate from this seemingly endless path to nowhere.

Lily is a comfort.

She doesn't expect him to be and, in the beginning, it's difficult to be around him. He reminds her too much of Gajeel, because they're supposed to be a team - a duo, best friends - and seeing one without the other only serves as a constant reminder that something is wrong. That someone is missing. That Gajeel is gone.

But, eventually, he becomes her source of comfort. Because Lily's bonds with Gajeel run deeper than most people give him credit for and, in the end, he's the only one who really understands. Of course, everyone is sad, everyone cries, everyone mourns, but with Lily it's different.

He was there. He saw. He held her back, tears streaming down his face, fighting back the urge to throw caution to the wind and reach out and save him, because he had to do this for Gajeel because Gajeel wouldn't forgive him if he let her throw away her life.

Lily understands her grief because he feels it too. So they find solace in one another as two people going through an unimaginable pain. He becomes the person she turns to when it all becomes too much, when being in the guild surrounded by their friends feels like a chore, when all she wants to do is bundle up in his blankets and sleep and sleep and sleep .

"Some tea?"

Levy nods and murmurs a word of thanks as Lily pours her a mug and slides it across the tiny table.

They spend a lot of time like this. Holed up in Gajeel's apartment sipping tea, or rifling through his belongings, laughing together when they find something ridiculous and crying together when the laughter inevitably dies down and there's nothing else to do but cry.

"I think we should take a mission," Lily says slowly, eyeing her carefully from over the top of his mug. "Just a simple one. Maybe a few towns away at most."

Levy tenses and takes a sip from her tea to avoid answering him right away. It's not like she's purposely been avoiding taking missions, it's just— Every time she approaches the request board in the guild she feels a painful knotting sensation in her stomach.

"We haven't taken a mission in months," Lily continues. "I know why you're avo— I know why we've been avoiding it," he says quietly, voice adopting that thick sound she knows mean he's choking back tears. "But it would be good for us, I think."

She nods because he's right. Of course, he's right. "That'll be the final nail in the coffin then, hm?" She laughs bitterly, taking a large gulp from her cup before slamming it down on the table. "We go on a mission and everything's finally back to normal and we have to accept that this is it. That it's time to stop moaning and moping and just forget him an—"

"I didn't say we have to forget him," Lily says sharply. "But this?" He sighs, gesturing helplessly around them. "This isn't helping us. We have to move on."

"I can't, it's not that easy."

"You think I don't know that?" Lily laughs dryly, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "It's hard, I know it's hard. Every day I wake up thinking I'll see him slouching through the place, hair sticking up like a birds nest looking for something to chew on. Every day I turn to my right just assuming he'll be there by my side with that grin on his face. Every night, I peek my head into his bedroom, forgetting I'm not going to see him curled up on that bed with you."

"Lily I—"

"It's hard, I know. But we're not making it any easier for ourselves sitting here dwelling on the past and on whether we could've done anything to help, or whether if we'd maybe just been that little bit faster , it could've been me instead of him an—"

Levy's up and out of her seat, pulling Lily into a crushing hug before she even registers it herself. "Do not," she whispers, squeezing him tightly against her chest. "Do not even think about blaming yourself."

"You blame yourself," Lily says pointedly as he pulls away slightly to look at her, voice thick with guilt. "I hear you mumbling to yourself over and over, 'If only I'd done this', 'If only I'd done that'. Let me shoulder some of the blame."

"It wasn't your fault."

"And it wasn't yours either," Lily says softly, clambering out of her arms to settle on top of the table. "This is why we need to start taking missions again. Otherwise, we'll sit here blaming ourselves for the rest of our lives and nothing will ever get any better for us."

"You sound just like Warrod," Levy says, smiling weakly down at Lily. "He said pretty much the same thing."

"Warrod's a wise man."

"I suppose he i—" Levy freezes on the spot, Warrod's words from her visit replaying in her mind. 'You who are so full of life, so full of light, shouldn't dwell on something as dark as death. There is no future you can give him rifling through Zeref's old books.

'There is no future you can give him rifling through Zeref's old books.

'Zeref's old books.'

"Lily," she chokes out, fingers wrapping themselves around his arm and squeezing tightly. "Lily we can save him. We can save him."

She feels stupid - so stupid - because this should've been obvious to her from the beginning and she can't believe she didn't think of it and— Oh God, they can save him.

They're going to save him.

He can see a light not far ahead.

It's tiny, nothing bigger than a pinprick but, against the perpetually dark landscape, it shines like a supernova.

That feeling from earlier - that strange tugging feeling deep inside him, urging him forwards like a siren's call - is back again, pulling him closer and closer towards the light.

Breaking into the main council headquarters shouldn't be so easy.

In fact, it's less 'breaking in' and more 'being waved in with minimal fuss (and even a jovial smile) by a security guard who happens to recognise them both from their brief stint as members of the Custody Enforcement Unit'.

"Someone should really have a talk with him about protocol," Lily murmurs, glancing back at him to frown at the still waving (and still smiling) security guard. "He didn't even ask to check our identific—"

"You're a giant, walking, talking cat, Lily," Levy says, lips twitching upwards into a small grin as they hurry through the corridors. "I don't think there are many people who'd mistake you."

"Well," Lily huffs, "I still think his supervisor needs to have a chat with him."

Levy smothers a soft laugh, gently tugging on Lily's sleeve to guide him down a smaller corridor. It's been months since she last visited the headquarters, but not much has changed. She still remembers which corridors lead to the sprawling library, which ones will take you out to the courtyard or the barracks, and which one leads to the basement.

"And you're sure it'll be down there?" Lily asks quietly, nodding to a random councilman as he passes by. "They wouldn't put them somewhere... safer?"

"Positive," Levy murmurs, frowning a little as they duck down into poorly lit corridor. "That's where they keep all ' contraband items '. No exceptions. Now, try and act like we're meant to be here," she says under her breath, forcing her lips into a strained smile as they come to a halt outside a set of large double doors with a guard stationed on either side.

Unlike the guard they'd passed at the entrance, these two fix them with wary stares as they approach, hands reflexively resting on the swords by their side.

"Can we help you?" one of them asks, frowning as Lily and Levy grind to a halt beside them.

For a moment or two, Levy freezes, that familiar feeling of fear and nerves threatening to creep up on her a ruin everything. But then she feels Lily bump her gently and sees the way he nods almost imperceptibly and she feels calmer. They've prepared for this. She can do this. She has to do this.

"I said, can we he—

"Solid Script: Gust," Levy murmurs quickly, sending a powerful gust of wind hurling towards the two guards. She winces as they're thrown backwards, backs hitting the wall with a loud thud , but she doesn't have time to feel sympathy. "Solid Script: Silence." She watches as the two guards claw frantically at their mouths, trying to tear off the invisible tape that's stopping them from speaking.

"Impressive," Lily hums, nodding appreciatively as he steps over the guards and shoves open the door. "How long will that hold up?"

"Not long," Levy admits, murmuring a hushed word of apology to the guard staring at her with wide eyes as she follows Lily and disappears through the door and shuts it firmly behind her. "Solid Script: Guard." The word GUARD wedges itself between them and the door, acting as a sturdy barrier if anyone were to try and shove it open. "That one will give us a few minutes more, but we should hurry anyway."

Lily nods and they quickly make their way down a winding staircase, stopping only when they get to another set of double doors. They're locked and, for a second or two, Levy genuinely considers running back upstairs to rifle through the guard's belongings to find the key, but Lily simply shoves his body against it and forces it open, splintering the wood.

"Damaging council property," Levy titters as they step through the newly made hole in the door. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Lily snorts, helping her clamber through the hole. "Desperate times…"

"Desperate measures," she finishes with a nod. Never has the phrase seemed to poignant before. "It should be in here... somewhere."

The council basement stretches for miles underneath the headquarters, filled with dangerous and, in most cases, illegal items confiscated from various criminals over the years.

They pass a box of forbidden, extremely potent, love potions, magical amulets designed to slowly strangle the user with each passing day, enchanted trinkets with the power to slowly suck away the power of the user and more hexed items as they walk further and further through the cluttered basement.

Her breath catches in her throat when she spots the Lullaby flute that caused all the trouble with Erigor all those years ago, poking out from inside a small box. "We're close," she murmurs, eyeing the flute nervously as they pass it.

It takes about five minutes of searching before she spots them. They've been placed in a corner far away from anything else, piled innocuously on top of each other as if they were nothing but the latest cookery books and not a collection of magic books written by the darkest mage of all time.

Idly, Levy decides Lily was right. The council do need to rethink their security system.

"Which one is the right one?" Lily asks as Levy slips on her glasses and tugs the first book from the pile. "It could take hours for us to— Oh." Lily leans against the neatest bookshelf and watches with an amused smile as she hurriedly flips through the pages at lightning speed, aided by the red glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.

"Not this one," Levy mumbles, hastily shoving the book to the side as she reaches for the next one. She feels her stomach churn as she flicks through the pages, taking in chapter after chapter on the forbidden magic Zeref had researched in so much depth. She'd expected the subject matter to be dark, but she hadn't expected it to be on a level like this.

Though, she supposes she doesn't have much room to judge, not when she's desperately rifling through his old books, looking for a spell just as forbidden, just as wrong, as the rest.

She's halfway through the fifth book - a thick one with a particular emphasis on creating demons - when an alarm blares loudly throughout the room.

Her heart plummets as she glances towards Lily with wide eyes. She'd assumed they'd have more time before the alarm was sounded.

"Keep going," Lily says, glancing towards the door. "Don't panic. Just keep going."

Don't panic, she thinks, tugging the next book from the pile. Don't panic. Don't panic. Her hands are shaking as she runs her forefinger down the discoloured pages. Don't panic. Don't panic. She can hear panicked footsteps hurrying down the stairs. Don't panic. Don't panic.

"Levy..." Lily says urgently, eyes narrowed as he glares at the door.

"I know, I know," she whimpers, tossing the book to the side and grabbing another one. "I know."

This one's thicker than the rest, and older too. She coughs slightly when she opens the pages and a small whirlwind of dust comes billowing out. She scans the book quicker than before, already reaching out with her free one to grab the next one in the pile when a passage jumps out at her and she feels her heart skip a beat or two. "Found it!"

The door to the basement crashes open and Lily deftly tugs her behind a bookcase as the room floods with council guards.

"Can you open it?" Lily asks, peeking around the corner, only to dart back and press up against the wall as a guard runs past, narrowly missing them squashed behind a bookcase. "Ideally, now?"

Levy frowns, scanning the page. "It's a long spell, I'll need a minute."

Another guard runs past.

Lily peeks out from behind the case again and frowns. "I can buy you a minute."

"Lily no ," Levy gasps, realising what he's saying. "I can't do this without you. I need you there. I ca—" She sucks in a breath as Lily drapes a hand over her mouth, just in time to stop her from squawking as another guard hurries past.

"If I don't, you won't be able to open it, will you?"

She shakes her head reluctantly because he's right. "Fine."

Lily shoots her a small smile as he pulls her into a brief hug. "Just promise me," he says sharply, smile dropping from his face in favour of a more serious look, as he squeezing her shoulders tightly. "Promise me you won't do anything rash."

"I—"

"Promise me you'll return. I mean it, Levy. If you can't bring him back—"

"I will."

"If you can't bring him back," Lily says again, a little louder this time. "You make sure you bring yourself back, understood?"

She nods, eyes watering just a little as Lily pulls away and gives her one final nod. "Good luck." And then he's gone, running through the basement as fast as he can, making as much noise as possible to distract the guards from her.

She waits a few seconds until she's sure Lily's drawn the guards as far away from her as he possibly can before she flips open the book again and begins murmuring the words on the page before her. At first, nothing happens, and she begins to worry she's made a mistake with her pronunciation or if she'd missed a vital step in the spell, but then the air around her begins to shimmer.

She watches, eyes wide, as a dark purple portal opens up before her. Something heavy settles in the bottom of her stomach as she takes a deep and steps through it.

The light guides him towards a river, but it's unlike any river he's ever seen before.

The water, pitch black and practically stagnant, stretches for miles towards the horizon and beyond it, as it meanders along the sloping bank, just steps away from the forest. He inches closer and squints, frowning when he realises he can't see any sign of life beneath its dark surface.

That strange feeling from before, that suffocating feeling, is back with a vengeance and he takes a hesitant step backwards.

There are boats - hundreds of small, wooden boats, barely big enough for one person - floating gently on the surface, swaying back and forth despite the stillness of the water or the lack of a breeze.

He watches as the souls - because that's what they are, aren't they? - exiting the forest rush towards the boats and throw themselves inside. He can't see anyone else inside the boat, no captain or anyone else to guide it, but as soon as the person is tucked inside, the boat begins to inch forwards towards the horizon.

Something inside him tells him to run, to turn back and lose himself in the forest again because even the smothering darkness inside the forest has to be better than wherever the boats are going.

He takes another step backwards and turns, intending to bolt for the trees but something wraps itself around his ankles and roots him to the spot. Panic wells up inside him faster than ever before as he glances down and sees gnarled and blackened roots quickly emerging from the ground, winding their way up his legs. He tries to pull away but the roots are stronger than they look and his struggles only serve to make them squeeze a little tighter.

He hears something shuffling behind him, but he doesn't pay it any attention - too busy struggling against the roots rapidly inching up his torso, wrapping around his stomach, clawing their way up his back—

"Now, now," a soft voice purrs from behind him.

Gajeel tenses, blood running cold as he feels a cool breath on the back of neck. It's all he can do to remember to breathe as he watches a figure slink out from behind him.

She's tall, impossibly tall, dressed in a black gown that trails behind it like some sort of macabre wedding dress, with pale and twisted limbs poking out from underneath it. Her face is gaunt and haggard, hidden partially by a veil of long black hair, but just a pale as the rest of her body.

Gajeel feels his heart skip a beat as she pushes her hair away from her face and he finds himself looking into the eyes of death itself.

"Now," she says again, leaning forwards slightly to lift his chin upwards with her bony, cold hands. Her breath, pungent and foul fans across his face. "Why are you trying to desperately to leave, hm?"

The portal collapses in on itself almost as soon as she steps through it, submerging her in an inky sort of darkness before she has time to get a hold on her bearings.

It's dark, but she thinks she's in a forest. She can just about make out crooked trees with gnarled branches twisting and turning in every direction, inching upwards towards the starless and moonless sky.

She can hear hushed whispers quietly echoing all around her and, every now and then, she's sure she feels something brush against her arm, but she can't see anything. Just darkness. An endless stream of darkness.

For a moment or two, she feels like she can't breathe. Nerves begin to well up inside her as she feels the darkness closing in on her from every angle, pressing tightly against her body, threatening to suffocate and engulf her entirely.

She wants to run. Wants to reopen the portal and run and never look back, because this is too much, but she can't.

She doesn't have time to fear the darkness all around her.

"Solid Script: Shine. "

She feels some of her fears wash away as she watches the darkness recoil backwards in the face of her holy scripture magic. The forest is still terrifying, maybe even more so now she can see properly see the skeletal trees with bony branches, but at least she can see.

She takes a step forwards, frowning as the tree branches seem to part of their own accord, making a strange little path for her. That urge to run is back again, but the tree branches wrap themselves tightly around her so she can't turn back, and she's forced forwards.

And so she walks.

Walks on and on and on—

.

.

.

She's not sure how long she's been walking for - has it been mere minutes, has it been hours, has it been days? - but eventually, the path the trees make for her leads her to a clearing.

She can see a river and several hundred wooden boats bobbing gently above the pitch black water, but that's not what catches her attention.

Her breath stutters in her chest as she stumbles down the sloping back and catches sight of him. He's standing completely still, like a statue, barely breathing with thick roots and vines wrapped tightly around his body.

She dashes forwards, tripping over her own feet as she rushes towards him, choking back tears, his name on the tip of her tongue—

"Oh?"

Vines shoot out from the ground underneath her to wrap around her ankles, rooting her to the spot. She's so close. So close. So close she can practically touch him if she just leans in that little bit more—

"Solid Script: Sword."

She cuts through the vines and pushes onwards until she's just inches away from him.

"I said, oh?"

More vines shoot out from beneath her. Thicker ones this time that curl all the way round her calf and squeeze tightly until she's screaming out in pain.

"And who might you be?"

Levy watches as a shape slinks out from behind Gajeel. "Who are you?"

The woman - Levy thinks it's a woman, with long black hair and a torn gown that flows behind her like the dark river just a few inches away - laughs, and cocks her head to the side, peering at Levy curiously. "You're not dead."

It's not a question - more like a statement.

"Another one who's not dead, roaming around my forest. Very strange. Very annoying."

Something clicks in her mind and Levy is forcibly reminded of her conversation with Warrod. "Iza— Izanami?"

"Oh?" Izanami cocks her head to the side, pitch black eyes widening slightly in what Levy can only assume is shock. "You're a clever one." She glides towards Levy and runs a pale hand down the side of her face, humming to herself in amusement when Levy recoils back at the icy touch. She stands there for a long second, simply staring at Levy before she sighs and turns around, directing her attention back to Gajeel.

"Don't touch him," Levy calls, watching as Izanami runs a finger along the thick roots wound tightly around Gajeel's stomach. "Don't hurt him."

"This is my domain," Izanami says, not even bothering to glance back at Levy. "I can do as I please." To prove her point, she snaps her fingers and the roots around Gajeel climb higher still, until they're wrapped tightly around the base of his neck, inches away from choking him.

"Don't."

Izanami sighs and turns her head towards Levy. "He's supposed to be dead ," Izanami hisses, lifting a hand to wrap gently around Gajeel's neck. "Life doesn't belong here." She squeezes lightly. "Don't worry, you'll be next."

"Please," Levy croaks, fighting uselessly against the vines wrapped around her legs. "Please, don't hurt him. You're right, he's not supposed to be here. We're not supposed to be here."

"Then why are you here?" Izanami asks, a hint of curiosity in her tone. Her hand is still wrapped loosely around Gajeel's neck, squeezing experimentally every few seconds.

"I came to rescue him."

Izanami inhales a sharp breath and drops her hand. Before Levy even has the chance to blink , Izanami is standing in front of her, pale, gaunt and haggard face just inches away from her own.

Her dark eyes flash with something Levy can't quite read. Anger? " What ?" She snaps her fingers and vines around Levy's legs disappear. "What did you say?"

Levy stumbles backwards. "I came to rescue him."

Izanami blinks slowly, thin brows furrowing in the middle. "To rescue him?"

Levy nod. "To bring him home."

"Why?"

"I love him." The admission flows from lips without any prompting on her behalf. It's the truth after all. "I love him."

Izanami stares at her for a few long seconds, cold, dark eyes seemingly piercing her very soul. "Fine," she says slowly, snapping her fingers to make the roots around Gajeel's body retreat. He collapses to the floor, unconscious - the only sign he's even alive being the shallow breaths he takes every few seconds. "He can go, but only if you take his place."

Everything around her seems to stop.

"If I take his place?"

Izanami nods, not even bothering to conceal her sly grin. "You love him, no?"

"I do—"

"Then swap. Your life," she gestures towards Gajeel. "For his."

Mine, for his, Levy thinks to herself, staring at Gajeel's still body on the floor. Mine, for his. She remembers Lily's words from earlier, his plea for her to come back, but she pushes it out of her mind.

This is fair, isn't it?

Her life has been short, yes, but she's had a good one. She's been surrounded by friends and family for as long as she can remember. Been surrounded by Fairy Tail for as long as she can remember. She's had her fill of happiness and love, but Gajeel?

She feels tears pricking at her eyes, but she forces them away.

Gajeel's just getting started.

He's just had his first taste of happiness - of love - and he deserves more, doesn't he? He deserves the chance to experience it properly, doesn't he?

Doesn't he?

"Alright," Levy says quietly, squaring her shoulders as she glances back up at Izanami. "Alright."

Izanami blinks, visibly startled by her decision. "You'll do it? You'll curse yourself to an eternity spent roaming the underworld, neither dead nor alive, for him?"

Levy smiles, eyes watering as she crouches down to run her fingers through Gajeel's hair. It's soft, softer than she'd remembered. "I would."

"Why?" Izanami hisses. "Why would you do such a thing?"

Levy shrugs, because it's not an easy concept to put into words. "I love him," she says simply, leaning forwards to press a kiss against his forehead - their last kiss she realises sadly. "I love him. Just," she glances back towards Izanami. "Just don't let him come back here."

"You think he would?"

Levy nods, a tearful laugh slipping from her lips. "He'll be furious at me. Lily too."

"Then why are you doing it?" Izanami asks again, a little more insistently this time. "Why would you throw away it all for him?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"Wouldn't I?" Izanami asks quietly, gaze dropping to glance at Gajeel. "I wonder." She sighs quietly before turning her attention back to Levy, a strange look etched onto her face. "And you're sure about this?"

"Positive," Levy says through her tears. No matter how much this hurts right now, it's right - it's fair . "Please, just...just let him have his future back."

Izanami hesitates for a brief second before she nods. "Very well."

And then, her vision blurs as everything disappears in a blinding explosion of white.

.

.

.

She'd been expecting darkness, but it's bright. Too bright.

She'd also expected to be alone, but she's not.

Izanami is sitting crossed legged in front of her, head cocked to the side as she watches her curiously. "You're a very confusing young woman, you know?"

Levy frowns, biting back a groan as she forces herself into an upright position. "Where are we?" She glances around her. "Where's Gajeel?"

"Hm. Where are we?" Izanami repeats, shrugging a little. "Between planes, I suppose. Who knows?"

"You're not making sense," Levy mumbles, still frantically glancing left and right. They're alone. Just the two of them. "Where is he ?"

"Home, I should think," Izanami says, almost flippantly, like the question bores her. "Like you asked."

Well. She supposes that's a relief. Gajeel is home. He's safe. He's alive. And she's—

"So. So, this is it?" Levy asks, peering around their surroundings a little more intently this time. It's endless white for as far as she can see with not a single blip of colour on the horizon. "This is it? I spend the rest of eternity here?"

Izanami hums again and ignores Levy's question in favour of shuffling closer towards her. "You make me sick, you know?"

"Sick?" Levy reflexively inches backwards. "I— I make you sick?"

"Sick," Izanami says again, thin lips twitching upwards into the first real smile Levy's seen on her. "Sick with jealousy."

"I don—"

"Make sure you look after each other, won't you?" Izanami says, cutting across her, as she waves an airy hand. "I'd rather not see you again. Either of you for that matter."

Levy opens her mouth to question her, to ask what the hell is going on but, before she can get a word in, Izanami presses a cool hand against her forehead and gently, but firmly, shoves her backwards.

For the second time that day, her vision blurs, and everything disappears in blinding explosion of pure white.

.

.

.

She can hear frantic shouting echoing all around her. She can feel the hard and uncomfortable wooden floor beneath her. She can sense someone hovering over her, asking her if she's alright over and over again - she thinks it might be Lily.

But she can't pay attention to any of that.

She only has eyes for him.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, a happy sob slips from her lips as she shuffles closer towards him. He's lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, taking deep breath after deep breath with a perplexed look in his eyes.

"Hi," she says quietly, gently running a hand down his face because she has to check. She has to check that this is real, that he's real and that this isn't some twisted dream and she'll wake up at any moment and find herself in that pitch black forest again.

He turns to face her, lips stretching upwards into a soft and watery smile. "Hey."

"I kept my promise," she murmurs, leaning forwards to rest her forehead against his. "I kept my promise."

She dips her head and brushes her lips against his, smiling into the kiss when she feels his arms wrap themselves around her to pull her in closer, holding tightly, like he never wants to let go.

She thinks she understands the feeling, because she never wants to let go either.

He's real.

This isn't a dream.

He's real and he's home, back where he belongs.

Home.

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