"You're not well enough, Gajeel," Levy complained, voice echoing off the brand new Fairy Tail training hall walls. Gajeel ignored her and discarded the metal cane he'd made. It'd helped him walk for three weeks, taking the pressure off his ruined nerve endings (a prognosis handed down first by Wendy, then Porlyusica when he didn't accept that) but not much else. The injury was still as painful as all hell and likely would be for the rest of his life. He could deal with pain. What he couldn't deal with was the way everyone looked at him.

Pity. Everyone was brimming with it, especially if they saw him twitch or hiss or limp especially bad.

They wanted to do stuff for him and help him around everywhere.

Not fucking happening, Gajeel thought stubbornly. He couldn't take having a flock of hens following his every move, fawning and crying because things that were easy, walking, running, climbing stairs, working out, weren't anymore.

Just because they weren't easy didn't mean they were impossible. He tried telling Levy that. She was still there, gasping and flinching when his leg twisted wrong. He couldn't get rid of her. She insisted upon being there as he tried to get back into things. This was the third day in the training hall with Pantherlily; Levy had found a place to set up residence and chewed her hair, a nervous twitch. She wasn't going to have any left if she kept at it.

Gajeel turned his focus from her and discarded his cane. It tinged metalically across the floor and came to a rest by Levy's feet. He didn't see what happened to it after that, he was busy forcing his body into an excruciating crouch and looking at a calculating Pantherlily. Unlike Levy, the cat didn't coddle him. He attacked the same way he always did, with a ferociousness that said, 'I'm Gajeel Redfox's Exceed, and anyone that fucks with me has fucked with the wrong fucking cowboy.' His lack of sympathy was absolutely refreshing. About as refreshing as going back to the shitty fucking motel on the outskirts of town and stripping down with Levy's help. As refreshing as her climbing into the tub with him and massaging the sore muscle on his thigh, and then the sore muscle more northward. Each situation had its merit.

It took an embarrassing thirty seconds for Pantherlily to land a solid tide-changing shot—not that the flow of the battle had ever really been in Gajeel's favour. It was difficult relearning to fight. He knew it was going to be. That knowledge, garnered with the ceiling in his sights and the floor beneath his back, wasn't easy to swallow.

Levy gasped—again. Pantherlily didn't apologize, only helped Gajeel up. Gajeel accepted his defeat like a big boy, taking it on the chin with grim determination, thinking next time, his bum leg wouldn't give out on him. Next time, he'd land a hit without thinking about how much agony he was in. Eventually, he might even kick the cane and be almost as good as he used to be.

Keep working.

That was impossible when Carla came in, human form donned, a worried expression on her face.

"News just arrived from the Magic Council. Draculos Hyberion wishes to speak with you. The lacrima's in the Master's office."

The unchosen Master, that was.

Levy came to Gajeel and wrapped the arm not covered in permanent scars around his body, helping him through the guild. Gajeel let it happen because she felt good beside him.

On a hard mattress in a motel room that was mostly cobwebs and dust, Erza lay on her side, nose-to-nose with Jellal. She breathed deeply, relaxed with his fingers inching through her hair methodically.

"Do you think she'll return?" Jellal's voice crackled after long moments of disuse.

Erza focused on his eyes and the dusting of freckles that kissed his nose. In contrast to his pale face, his tattoo looked dark, freshly inked by Macbeth's hand. The man's artistry was actually something to behold, his lines steady and true.

"Erza?"

"Mm?" she asked, distracted.

"Eileen. Do you think she'll return?"

Oh. "I don't think I've seen the last of her." At least, Erza hoped not. "She has a lot to answer for."

"The world is not an unjust place. One way or another, she'll get what's coming to her."

"I want my blades to deliver her punishment," Erza said with a surprising amount of vehemence. There was something to be said about being left to rot in a back alley. She didn't think she'd feel much, but the anger was palpable. It was the hubris that got her, the lack of compassion. How could a person like Eileen exist? How can she be your flesh and blood?

An abrupt knock tugged Erza from her reverie. She jolted into a sitting position, sheets falling down around her naked body. Her heart beat hard, already knowing what her mind did +

"Who is it?"

"Gajeel," the dragon slayer responded beyond the barrier.

Erza looked to Jellal and was just about to whisper something like, out the window, when Gajeel's voice came again. "I know he's in there, Erza, stop fucking around."

"Come in," Jellal answered for her.

Erza glared at him.

"This isn't something that's easily escaped," Jellal responded to her unvoiced accusation. It was amazing they had as much time as they did. Three weeks was a gift, no matter who you talked to.

The door opened and a hobbling Gajeel entered seconds after Erza used her magic to change into something less revealing: a plain blue dress that was really too cold for the crappy room they slept in—the heaters were broken and had been for days, but did the owners do a thing about it?

"Erza." Gajeel pretended that seeing her and Jellal in bed together wasn't awkward. "Jellal."

"What do you want?" Relations had been strained between them. Erza wasn't feeling generous enough to make them any better.

Gajeel said, "I have instructions from the council."

Erza was counting down to this day and it seemed it had finally arrived. "They can't arrest him." She would fight and fight, become an outlaw to stand up for what she thought was right.

Gajeel closed the door and said a word of power Erza didn't know. Magic filled the room, and then a sense of dampening. "What was that?"

"A spell to keep prying ears out," Gajeel replied. He focused solely on Jellal. "You're wanted by the Magic Council for your crimes against humanity."

Jellal hung his head, accepting his fate in a way Erza wished he wouldn't. "I've had many years of freedom."

"And you'll get a lot of years of punishment for them, too."

"I'm ready to accept that fate."

Maybe he was, but Erza wasn't. "They can't lock you up, Jellal. You're doing good stuff—"

"They don't intend on putting him or his ragtag guild in a jail cell," Gajeel cut in.

Erza took a moment to process. "What?"

"They want you as an agent. You'll work for the council, doing council sanctioned jobs. It'll be a lot like what you're doing now. Dangerous shit, you know? The stuff they don't want to send their people on."

"Suicide missions," Erza spat, feeling betrayed in a way that was much larger than anything she'd ever experienced before. This was her council. Men and women that were supposed to stand up for what was right, not send people to their deaths under the banner of 'Good Cause'.

"You can call them that, I guess," Gajeel said. "If you don't accept, it'll be a lifetime sentence, same as before. If you do, you'll report to the Council for assignment."

"I will accept," Jellal said without hesitation.

"Jellal," Erza hissed.

He wouldn't look at her.

Gajeel continued, "Good. They want you to keep on keeping on. No one knows about you, you don't talk to regular citizens, you don't affiliate with the Council, you're a ghost."

"Because they're ashamed," Erza raged.

Gajeel addressed Jellal only. "Any fuckups and you'll be back to where you started. And that goes for any of your guild. One person stepping out, that's all it takes to make the whole deal go south."

Jellal nodded. "I understand."

"Gajeel," Erza said. "You can't be serious."

"This was the best I could do, Erza. The other options are death or chains." Gajeel pulled a set of cuffs from his waistband.

Erza wanted to scream. Then a sense of placation overcame her. Jellal was resourceful and smart; he wouldn't be bested by men and women that sat in stiff council chairs handing out missions no one else was brave enough to accept.

Gajeel said, "If we're good, your first mission's waiting at headquarters in Era. Take your guild and hit the road as soon as possible."

"We'll be gone before noon," Jellal said.

"Good. I'll let Draculos know you're on your way."

Wind played through Wendy's hair, pushing it onto Cheria's shoulder as they lay on the rooftop of the motel, Obsidian Blossom, a piece of garbage with a fancy name because the owner had an affinity for black roses.

Cheria breathed deeply and reached for the element, an automatic response. Wendy felt the absence of the girl's magic so acutely, it made her want to cry.

Cheria was tuned into her emotions. "Don't be sad. You have a lot to be happy for. Tomorrow, the new guild hall is opening and a new master is going to be named. And—Magnolia is being rebuilt. I saw the King's personal architect in town today. He was designing a new library."

"Do you miss it?" Wendy asked, not interested in the 'false-talk'.

Cheria sighed and leaned over Wendy's body. "Magic?"

"Yeah."

"It was a part of me. I'll feel it's absence forever," Cheria answered honestly. "But with every new day, I realize that it's not the most important part of me. It's not what defines me."

Wendy touched the girl's cheek, a gesture that came more easily lately. Cheria closed the distance between them, locking their mouths in a kiss that left Wendy lightheaded.

Sitting on a narrow bed made with an off-yellow comforter, Laxus was more than a third of the way through a mickey of whisky when his door opened without ceremony and Mirajane came through. Hair loose around her shoulders, red, red lipstick on her mouth, she wore a tight fitting black dress. When she turned to close the door, Laxus realized that it was sheer in the right light. It was only her silver hair falling over her shoulders that prevented him from seeing everything.

"Mira," he slurred, not too sure how he felt about the intrusion.

She shook her head exasperatedly and approached. "Fuck sakes. Are you drunk again, Laxus?"

That made up his mind rather quickly: she was feeling hostile, thus, so was he. "Are you not? I saw you and Cana sitting at the bar."

Mira couldn't deny him; she had to change Elfman's bandage again this afternoon and thought maybe being a little tipsy would help numb her; the first time she saw the mess her brother's chest was, she'd thrown up. The second time wasn't much better. The third time, she was too buzzed to get caught on the details—puckered wet skin sewn together, bits of red seen through the gash. A few pieces of thread were all that prevented his insides being on the out. To expel the image, Mira said, "I'm not the one reading Master's will tomorrow—you shouldn't be hungover."

"Want to be? Reading, that is," Laxus asked glibly and grabbed a sheet of paper off the small table that served for a desk in his puny motel room.

"No." Mira pushed the paper away. "That's your job."

"Says who?" He looked up at her suspiciously. "Know something I don't?"

Her brow went up. "Like?"

"Like what that will says." He hadn't been brave enough to read it yet.

She snorted. "Don't worry, under the 'Master' section, it sure as hell doesn't say your name."

Instead of being insulted, Laxus relaxed. "Good." He drank more. Mira tried to take the bottle; he pushed her away.

Frustrated, she asked, "Is this what you do now? Get drunk, get melancholy, be generally miserable."

"Don't know if you noticed, but it's a pretty fucking miserable time," Laxus said sharply.

"Because you're mourning?"

"I can handle death."

Mira puffed air from her nose. "Then it's because you didn't get your revenge?"

Laxus squeezed the neck of the bottle. "Yeah, Mira, something like that." This time when he tried to drink, she made good on snatching the bottle away. Laxus swiped for it and missed. "Give it back."

"No. You need to read your grandfather's will without throwing up in the daisy pot."

"That's Cana's move."

"Back when she was thirteen, maybe," Mira said. "But even she knows when to call it quits."

"You telling me she's sober right now?"

"Dead straight." Which was almost like her being drunk. Mira didn't think Cana knew how to operate without enough beer in her blood to prevent her freezing in sub-zero temperatures.

Laxus scrubbed his face and sighed. Mira put the whisky bottle down. "She got what she deserved. Dimaria. It wasn't you that got revenge, but…"

"It should have been," Laxus said.

Mira touched his scruffy cheek, fingering the deep scar on his jawline. He hadn't shaved in days and days; the hair there wouldn't grow properly anymore. "It'll help if you think about something else."

He was building a volley of hurtful things to say. Mira laid their mouths together, burning up his attempts so fast, Laxus reeled.

Only when she moved away did he spit, "What are you doing?"

"Maybe thinking about other things."

He searched her blue eyes. "Is this just a thing now? You come in to my room, scold me for being drunk then take off your clothes?"

She grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head. She had on a black lacy bra and a matching set of underwear. "There was a time when you wouldn't ask questions."

She was right. She took off the rest of her clothes. Then his. He resigned himself to doing and not thinking.

"Gray-sama."

Coming out of the shower, Gray found her in the grey light. She lay on the single mattress, one hand tossed over her head, the other splayed out on her belly, tree leaf green nails bright against the black negligee she wore. Beneath the sheer surface, Gray saw the band of black panties, stark when compared to her skin. His pants felt tighter. He delayed the moment he went to her, trying to see if he could.

"Gray-sama," Juvia whispered his name again and held out her hand. She had a gravity he couldn't escape as much as he tried. Her fingertips were playing over his skin before he realized he'd moved. So close, shadow lifted and he could clearly see her hair fanning out over the pillow, dark blue like storm clouds, her eyes blue quartz. He leaned over her in an effort to bring their bodies closer together. She was the warmest thing he could think of, the sweetest smelling, the most forgiving, bottomless, like the ocean. Her fingers traced over his cheekbones and slid into his hair.

"You're still sick."

The statement was offered in a voice that brimmed with compacted worry.

"I'm alright."

They both knew it was a lie. His skin felt as itchy as ever, the need for demon souls burning him up. When that didn't take him, it was the guilt. Lucy was a wicked living ghost, screaming in his head day in and day out. 'Let me go.' The only upside Gray could see was that he and Juvia mostly weren't connected any longer, so she didn't have to drown in it, too. There was the odd time, though, where the connection Meredy severed tried to reconnect and he could feel everything as vividly as he had weeks before. He didn't ask Juvia what she felt from him in those times, afraid of what she'd say. Instead he begged Meredy to find something to fix their predicament more permanently. She said it couldn't be done; they'd just have to deal with feeling each other on the periphery every now and again.

Juvia wriggled beneath him, unintentionally brushing over his erection. He let his eyes close, focused on her breathing, on her fingers rolling down his neck on her breasts pressing into his chest, on—

"I don't think Eileen was lying when she said the magic will consume—"

He placed his finger over her mouth, quieting her. She silenced. He kissed her neck in hopes of keeping it that way—thinking about impending doom could wait another day.

Juvia would only be distracted for a moment. "What if you just lose your mind, Gray-sama?" She sounded close to tears. It was a state that she was in more often than not lately. Sometimes she cried about his magic, sometimes she cried about Akio. That was mostly when she slept, though. Awake, she did everything she could to keep the memory of the demon's probing fingers at bay.

It wasn't healthy.

Nothing they did was.

"I'll keep hunting demons." Hunting meant satiation, which meant the madness felt further away.

It was a temporary fix at best. It always came back, worse than before.

"Gray-sama, what about—"

What about when it stops working? He didn't have a good answer. He kissed the peak of her breast through the sheer lingerie, cutting into her words and touched her in all the ways he knew to make her mindless. Eventually, she gave in. Her kisses turned less reluctant and more forceful, her touches were all insistent.

Gray wasn't a fool; when they were done, she'd come back double-fold with harder questions that he didn't know the answer to. He treaded to keep his head above water.

The grass beneath Lucy's head was fragrant and cool with autumn's arrival kiss. She brushed her fingers over the too-long blades. "Do you think Magnolia will ever be the same?"

"No." His answer was short and poignant.

Lucy rolled her head on her shoulders and looked into his onyx eyes. "Me, neither. I thought you'd be more optimistic, though."

"You're the optimist," Natsu told her.

"You're always the one with the smile."

"Because I was always smiling at you."

"I love this."

He didn't answer.

Lucy rolled on her side, taking her eyes away from the midnight sky so she could look at him properly. He wasn't smiling now. "What is it?"

"You know."

It had been the same thing every night for weeks. Lucy plucked the grass instead of skimming over it. "I was really scared."

"Me, too." His hand found hers and stopped her movements. "You don't have to be now. You're safe."

"Natsu—"

He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers, silencing her words for a solid five seconds. In that time, Lucy melted into him and grabbed him by the shirt, determined to hold him in place. He moved away, he always did.

"Natsu—"

He brushed her bangs back from her forehead. "Please, Lucy."

"No." She thought she'd do anything to keep him from saying his next words. She couldn't stop him.

"You've been here for a long time."

"I want to stay here. I want to stay here forever." She'd already told him that.

His fingers moved through her hair. "You can't."

"Says who?"

He didn't give her a name, only said, "You know it's time to wake up."

"I don't want to."

"Lucy—"

"Stop. Stop pushing me away."

"Please, wake up."

Tears pressed into her eyes. "I don't want to. I want to stay here with you."

She could say that all she liked; he was slipping away, taken again by Sandman. Lucy blinked, this time not looking at the starry sky or Natsu's familiar face, but plain rafters, the wood of which was stained black by smoke. The body behind her felt her stirring and tightened its hold around her middle, drawing her in. He was warm and familiar; he wasn't the one she wanted, though.

Forlorn, Lucy wriggled out of Loke's comforting grip and stood. The bed was noisy to the very last. The spirit didn't budge; Lucy imagined it was to give her some privacy, not actually because he was asleep. She crossed the tiny room, feet sliding over the cold wooden floor, and slipped into the equally small bathroom. She didn't bother turning on the light, not even after the door was closed. She didn't care to see her wan expression peering out from the mirror marred with permanent blue, red and black marker.

She hiked up Natsu's shirt and sat to pee. Even after she'd finished, she stayed that way, staring blankly at the grey, scratched drywall. Her eyes were dry now; she'd cried all of her tears over a pile of ash. The wind had taken that away before she could do anything rash.

Tapping on the door reminded her that she wasn't alone. Lucy wiped and stood and flushed. Too fast. Her head spun; nausea overcame her, sudden and violent. She had enough time to turn and lean over the toilet before she emptied her stomach of the water she'd drunk before bed.

The door opened and Loke came in without waiting for permission. He pulled back her hair, laid a damp cloth on the back of her neck and cooed soothingly until she'd finished. Then he guided her back against the soggy drywall and held her while she shivered.

Twenty silent minutes passed. "That's the fifth time in two days, Lucy," Loke said eventually.

"I'm fine, just sick."

"You're not just sick and you know it."

"Be quiet, Loke."

"You should see Porlyusica."

Lucy buried her face into Loke's shoulder and didn't answer.

Early the next morning, back in her bed, Lucy was awoken by a weight landing on her mattress. Her eyes came open eagerly, hoping, as she did every day, that she'd see his face. It was Porlyusica. Loke stood over her shoulder and studied the wall, a guilty but determined look on his face.

Lucy protested. Porlyusica did an examination anyway. Then she told Lucy what she already knew when she wasn't visited by her monthly cycle two weeks ago.

The motel room opened and a dark haired man peered inside, squinting in the low light. On the ground at the foot of the bed with her back against the wall, Lucy looked up from her entwined fingers and saw him clearly enough, her eyes long ago adjusted to the dark.

"Go away, Gray."

He came in instead and shut the door. Lucy looked for Loke; he was nowhere to be seen. Convenient.

Gray didn't say a word until he'd crossed the room and hunkered down by her side, shoulder abutting hers. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Lucy said abruptly. She wanted to pull away from him and yet, she liked the way he felt at her side, cold and different but somehow familiar, too.

"You're not fine, Lucy," he said gently.

Lucy's eyes suddenly burned. She blinked and blinked, trying to banish the feeling. "Why ask me how I feel if you're going to tell me?"

"Why lie about it?"

She picked viciously at her nails.

"Is it true? What Porlyusica said?"

"Is that what everyone's doing, talking about my business behind my back?"

"We're worried about you. Yes, or no?"

"Are you going to try to kill it if I say yes?" Lucy returned.

Gray dug his fingers through his hair then stopped, fingers laced together atop his head. He swore.

Lucy felt guilty for the jab. "I'm sorry."

He sniffed. Three heartbeats went by, then he spoke in a choked voice. "I don't know if I could have done it, you know? When I thought about it, I felt like I had to, but I… it wasn't like killing Akio, it wasn't easy."

"Killing should never be easy," Lucy said. Then, because she thought he needed to hear it, not necessarily because she thought it was true, she said, "I didn't mean what I said. I know you wouldn't have done it."

"Now I know you're lying."

"It's true." Lucy was catapulted back into a night long, long ago. "You're a good person, Gray."

He turned that over in his head. Seconds of silence passed. "I came to console you, actually, not the other way around."

"I'm fine."

"Loke says you're sleeping too much."

Stepping into a beautiful dark paradise where her dragon slayer was very much alive. Where he kissed her and held her hand and joked occasionally. Where she didn't feel so fucking hollow. "I guess I'm tired."

"You're depressed."

"Are you a doctor?"

"I'm your friend," Gray said.

Lucy felt her emotions flip and couldn't help but try to hurt him. "Is that what we are? Because from where I stand, that's only when its convenient."

Gray looked wounded all over again. He didn't get up and leave like Lucy thought. Maybe that meant they were friends. "There's a lot going on. You lost Natsu, you have another person growing—"

"Stop, please." Hearing it all neatly laid out aloud was like being gutted. Lucy couldn't handle it.

Gray took her fingers in his icy hand and squeezed. They sat in strained silence until he finally broke again, seemingly unable to keep quiet. "It's a big job, being a mother."

Lucy had wrath on her tongue. It gave way for morose. Quietly, she said, "I'm not ready."

"And you're on your own." A look Lucy didn't much like came over him. "Lucy—"

"Shut up, Gray."

He deflated. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Something stupid. Something you don't mean." She took her hand away from his.

He couldn't even deny her.

"Thanks for coming to check up on me," Lucy said before she could apologize and listen to what he had to say and fall back into the same fucking hole she was in the year before.

Gray stood, taking his leave when he had it handed to him. He was at the door when he paused, hand on the knob. "The new guild hall is being opened today. Laxus is going to be reading Makarov's will around two. Apparently there was something in there about appointing a new master. You should come by."

Lucy didn't reply. Gray left.

There wasn't much to pack. Natsu's shirt. Her mother's earrings and necklace. Some clothes Virgo left behind. Natsu's scarf. It all easily fit into an ugly fuchsia duffle bag she found in the motel's lost and found.

Lucy was halfway out of the door when she felt Loke's gate open. A warm hand closed on hers, stopping her up short.

"Let go, Loke."

"No. Come back." He pulled her around more forcefully than she was expecting. Lucy stumbled through the door again. Loke closed it then grabbed the overstuffed duffle from her hands. Lucy's grip on it was so firm, Loke had to pry her fingers off one by one. Patience was a virtue, success was his. He set the bag on the ground when he could and gathered the girl in for a bone-crushing hug.

Lucy held on for three entire seconds. Then she fell into a fit of sobs.

"Shh." Loke stroked her hair. Lucy only cried harder. "It's okay."

"It's not."

"You're scared, I get it, things are changing. They're changing a lot, but—"

"I can't do it." She was barely audible between sobs.

"Yes, you can, Lucy." He started leading her back to the bed. All of the fight seemed to flee her system, so she went in truncated movements. He sat her down on the squealing mattress and knelt between her knees so he could look directly into her eyes. "You have to, because this isn't like before. You can't run from this."

"I'm not running." Her lie was watery at best.

"Come on, Lucy. Can't bullshit a bullshitter, remember?"

She swiped furiously at her tears. "I don't know how to do this."

"You'll do it the same as you've done everything you thought was too hard, with the help of those that love you. I won't leave your side."

She cried more with his offer than without. Loke even knew why. She wanted only one person at her side.

"Lucy..." Loke swiped her cheek for her. "Lucy, please."

She was inconsolable.

Loke didn't know what to do. He too was drowning in her misery. He drew in a breath so deep, his lungs ached. Tell her.

Don't.

Do, because she'd stop crying, maybe.

Don't, because if it weren't true, she'd be even more untethered.

He decided do because she wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to hold herself in place when she was falling apart at the seams.

"I found something in the ash that day, when I went to the bell tower and you stayed behind."

Loke wondered if she even heard him. So he said something to get her attention. "What if I told you... there might be a way to bring him back?"

Lucy's sobs slowed. She sniffed. "What?"

Loke opened his gate and reached through. When he came back out, he held a thick tome. He held it even when Lucy tried to take it from him. She read the cover. "END. Is this Natsu's book?"

"Yeah. And..." He flipped to the front where in neat handwriting someone, likely Zeref, had penned Hellfire.

Lucy touched the letters. "What is that?"

"A different kind of spirit." In the celestial realm, where everything was bursting with magic, the book, for now, went undetected, but here, the magic that emanated from it was a beacon. He put it away before its call could alert others to its presence. It wasn't something he wanted very many people knowing about.

She studied his empty hands as if the book would appear again. "What are you saying?"

"That it's forbidden magic. But possible. Maybe. To—to have him come back."

"Like you."

"Sort of," Loke agreed because that was the easiest way to describe it.

"He'd have a key."

"If we forged one. If it worked, you could summon him, make a contract." Loke had to assume that's what Zeref had in mind when he left that book and the one-word note there for them to find. Are you sure that's what happened? Who else would leave it, though? He could speculate as to why, too. The darkest mage to ever live felt guilt for tearing his brother from his life so he could end his.

"A contract like yours."

"Yes." Loke did what he could to ignore the feeling in his chest, the one that told him he was stretching celestial law once again. He didn't think exile would be so kind to him this time if the spirit king knew what he was saying.

Lucy expelled a quick breath. Her tears were gone, replaced by something uplifting: hope; seeing that, Loke thought he could weather exile for eternity. She wrapped her arms around his neck in the fiercest of hugs, then kissed him sloppily on the cheek, mouth wet, cheeks wet, nose wet. She was on her feet before Loke could return either gesture and racing across the room for her pack again and tearing back the door.

"Wait," Loke said. "What are you doing?"

Lucy paused. "I want to get started right away."

Loke tried to inject logic into the situation. "What about Fairy Tail?"

"When I have Natsu back, I'll return," Lucy said. "The guild will still be here."

"And Happy?"

She couldn't look at the cat without dissolving into depression. "When Natsu comes home, everything will be better again. For now, he's happier with Carla and Wendy."

"Lucy…" Loke considered stopping there, not wanting to tear the wind from her sails, but she needed to know. "Before this gets too far out of hand, you have to know, there will be sacrifices you have to make for this magic."

"What sacrifices?" She didn't look scared, she looked stubborn.

Loke faltered. "I don't know. We'll have to do some research, no one's tried to make a Hellfire spirit for centuries." Not that he could find, anyway. Cross hadn't been much help either. "But this kind of magic… it doesn't come for free."

"I'll pay anything."

He believed her. He only hoped that the cost wasn't too high. Rising, he went to her and folded her hand in his larger one. "Let's get started then." There wasn't time to wonder if they were making a mistake, the storm of fate was moving again.

A/N:

Thank you for reading. There is an ongoing sequel called Brimstone Garden, if you want to continue :)

Otherwise, my book has been printed and I have copies available. If you're interested, you can PM me for details or check my Facebook page, Kaitlin Corvus. If ebooks are more your style, it's up on Amazon, just type in The Abolition of Caden Hail.

Thanks so much for reading!