The ruined courtyard of Misty Peaks throbbed with heat and frost—scorched stone, rimed edges, a stink of ozone and dust. Torches guttered in crooked brackets; banners hung in ribbons. Somewhere a cracked lintel gave a tired crrrrk and dropped grit like rain.
On the dais, Darius Crimson watched the last of his lackeys skid across the stones. His lip curled. He drew a dark, vein-marbled lacrima from his cloak and rolled it once between finger and thumb.
"Shall we be done pretending?"
He crushed it—KRK—black-silver light flooding his arm, then his whole frame. The air went thin and sharp around him, sigils crawling his skin like eclipse rings.
"The fruits of our experiments," he murmured, voice low and pleased. "Let's see you weather this."
"Clear a path!" Makarov's voice boomed. His arm swelled, skin to gold light—THOOM—a giant palm slammed a tide of lackeys flat, skidding them across flagstones. "Erza, Gray, Natsu, Gajeel—move!"
Boots pounded—thud-thud-thud.
Steel hissed free—shrrk.
Natsu's fists flared low and mean. "We're ending this."
Gray's breath smoked. "Stick close."
Erza leveled her blade. "Together."
Gajeel cracked his neck, iron scales prickling along his jaw. "Save the speeches—we bust through."
Ryuji drew a breath that smoked in the night air. "With you."
They broke from the cover of broken columns and drove straight for the dais. Darius's mouth bent in something that wasn't a smile.
Ryuji's first step held. His second faltered.
The world tilted. All the damage he'd been holding down—bruised ribs, scorched muscles, wind-burned lungs—surged at once. He caught himself with a palm—scrape—glove dragging harsh over grit.
"Not... now." He pushed. His legs shook.
Darius's eyes sharpened, hungry. Two fingers lifted; sigils webbed his knuckles.
"Eclipse Lance."
A narrow blade of night-white light screamed across the stones—SHREEE——cutting the air with a killing whistle.
"Ryuji!"
Wind rose like a breath drawn sharp.
Wendy blurred in front of him—cloak snapping, sandals skidding. She turned her shoulders to take the line of the blast and threw both arms wide.
Impact—KRAAAM—a flare that swallowed color, heat and cold tangled. Shock ripped across the court; dust jumped in a ring. Wendy flew backward—**whump—skid—**and lay still where the shattered pavement bucked into a low step.
Everything stopped.
Even the torches seemed to hush.
Ryuji's hands shook. He dragged himself forward—elbows, then forearms—scrape, scrape—until his fingers found her sleeve. He gathered her up, cheek pressed to her hair, breath tearing.
His voice cracked, raw with panic.
"W-Wendy... please—get up. You're a Sky Dragon... aren't you? Please."
Silence answered.
His throat closed; tears burned hot and helpless.
Then the truth, broken open:
"I... love you... please don't leave me."
—to be continued—
Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima/Kodansha. I only own Ryuji Kazuma and this fan story. Non-commercial fan work.