Chapter Text
She wakes up screaming, dirt on her hands and her breath locked in her lungs. Only, the sky is not orange and her mouth does not taste of moondust. Instead, the world is peppered with stars, with the moon hanging bright and alighting the camp they’d built. She throws the blanket off her haphazardly, her clothes sticking to her with sweat and chest heaving. I don’t wanna go, mom, I don’t wanna go–
“Are you alright?” She hears Indi demand. She rubs the tears away from her eyes to meet his weathered face twisted in concern and worry.
“Fine,” She snaps, hoarse. “I’m fine. Just a bad dream.”
Lucy sits up, head still reeling. It’s a short walk to their luggage kept in the corner, but she stumbles. She digs out a bottle from it, chugging the water down without a thought. She feels a little dribble on her chin, feels the wetness on her wrist when she wipes it away. Breathes in, breathes out. She can almost pretend it’s another night back at the porch of her cabin, inhaling in the fresh air from the surrounding woods trying to recover from yet another nightmare.
Almost.
“I’m sorry,” She shakes her head when she sees that Indi is still watching her. “Did I wake you up?”
“No,” Indi says and she can’t tell if he’s lying for her sake. “I’ve been awake a while.”
“Any particular reason?” By her guess, it’s probably a few hours past midnight.
“Not really,” He admits, “Sometimes my mind seems to prefer other activities to rest.”
“Yeah,” She puts the cap of the bottle back on, stuffing it back in the luggage. “I can understand that.”
“Excited for tomorrow?” Indi asks, changing the subject. “Crocus won’t be like anything you’ve seen yet.”
“Nothing’s like anything I’ve seen before,” She chuckles, drily.
“Ah,” He shakes his head, moving to lie back down. “What a gift.”
She follows his lead, crawls back under her blankets.
-
“Again, Lucy.”
Her chest burned, ribs pushing back against an invisible force that threatened to expand like a hot air balloon. She felt the ground tremble beneath her legs, dust brushing against her cheeks. The air smelt of humidity and glitter, drying her tongue and throat.
“You can do it, Lucy. Push.”
A groaning sound escapes her throat as she inhales, bracing herself as the heat burns brighter and brighter. The wind grows harsher, she feels strands of her hair beat against her face. The tension in her temple rises as her eyebrows furrow, but she refuses to sway. She digs further into it, into the force and the heat. She’s so close, so close to the core of it. The force inside her. If she could just reach into it, grab it— so she could understand it–
A snap echoes through her lungs as her whole body deflates, the heat in her heart disappearing without a trace. She blinks open, grimacing at the irritation in her eyes, to see Indi’s patient face.
“Better than last time,” he muses. “Time for lunch, then?”
Lucy rolls her eyes, slumping back on the ground. Indi chuckles, waving her off as he walks back to the carriage.
“Chin up, you’re doing fine,” He calls out, “Better than most, actually. You’re a natural.”
She doesn’t even know what exactly it is that she’s doing. Something about building magic tolerance, expanding her stamina. Magic is a finite resource in battle, Lucy, it can run out. We need to build your supply up to last.
Whatever. It’s not like she’s seeking out battles here. She’s learning it because it’s the only lead she’s got so far. To get back to reality, back home. Where she belongs.
Lunch is yesterday’s leftover boar, half of which they’d sold to a nearby village because they definitely didn’t have the space to carry the gigantic animal Taurus had hunted for them. It’s fine anyway, it earned them a few extra jewels.
As Indi hands her the skewered meat, he smiles. “At this rate, soon there won’t be much that I can teach you.”
“You sound terribly happy about that,” Lucy points out. Most of her past teachers were annoyed when they came to that realization.
Indi chuckles. “You take to magic like a duck to water, I’ve never had a student pick it up so fast.”
“I just have the right motivation,” Lucy shrugs, looking away from him. The words prick at her.
“This world’s not so bad, you know?” Indi proposes, “There are worse places to find yourself.”
“I know, it’s not that,” Lucy shakes her head. “I’d just like to be home.”
His eyes find hers, sympathetic and sober.
“Why do you think it was Earthland that you landed in,” Indi asks, suddenly. “Of all places?”
“I,” Lucy blinks, “I have no idea.”
Indi nods. “I’d start there. There must be a connection between Earthland and whatever brought you here. Perhaps it’s one you can trace back.”
“I did think of that,” Lucy admits, twirling the skewer in her hands. “I just don’t know how to begin finding it.”
“I may not know the power that brought you here,” Indi begins, “But I do know magic. Earthland and magic are synonymous. If you must start somewhere, start there. Magic is ancient and thus wise, perhaps this may not be where you wanted to be, but where you needed to be.”
Lucy thinks there may be some truth to his words. Thinking of the past week and a half, her bandages have all come off, the most they’ve left behind is a burn scar going up her right arm. She can push the thought away all she wants, but she knows there’s no way she’d have healed like that on Earth. Did the stones bring her here just to save her life? How? Why? She wants to ask Indi, she thinks a lot about divulging the truth behind her… transportation. Yet, every time she opens her mouth to do it, she remembers the inquisitive look in his eyes that night on the porch and she shuts up.
It makes no sense. She does trust him, enough to go along with this mess. He has no reason to lie to her. If anything, she’s practically indebted to the man for life. She thinks maybe the indecision has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the stones. Maybe if she simply doesn’t speak of them here, in this world so far untouched by Thanos’ destruction, perhaps it’ll remain that way. In some strange twisted manner, she’s trying to protect Earthland from the stones and all that they bring with them.
There have been better things to think about, at least. She makes Indi talk more about Zeref and Zeref worshippers, which doesn’t really have anything to do with any of her problems but dang it, she’s always been the curious sort. The whole lore behind the Dark Wizard rings of the largest cult phenomenon she’s ever heard of and it makes her sort of sad, because it’s exactly the kind of true crime mysteries Pepper likes to watch.
Mostly though, they talk of magic. She studies it like she’d studied badassium, a whole new element for her to observe and dissect. She learns of its many different forms and limitations, of ancient magic and lost magic. She learns more about the people too, and how they’ve based a whole culture around magic. She now knows guilds to be where wizards congregate, where they can find work and community. Dark guilds are those unrecognized by the Magic Council, therefore unauthorised and illegal. It’s not simply their registration that gives them that label, it’s also that they commonly take jobs of a criminal nature. The council is trying to keep a handle on them, but in the recent past they’ve been woefully inadequate.
None of it brings her any closer to a way home.
In some ways, it makes her hate knowing more about Earthland and Fiore. It makes her feel as if some part of has accepted this foreign land into her mind, as if it’s settled and grown roots. But that can’t happen. Her heart’s stone without Pepper. Time has proved that again and again.
Yet, and yet. She remembers the warmth in her chest two nights ago, when she’d summoned a spirit for the first time.
It had been a minor silver key, Nautica Pyxis, or just Pyxis as she had informed her. She was kind of adorable, like something Morgan would squish to sleep, and didn’t require that much magic to summon. Pyxis had been ecstatic to be summoned by a new holder, even though she’d tearfully hugged Indi goodbye. Indi was more interested in celebration though, officially declaring the red bird as Lucy’s first spirit.
“Celestial magic is the only lead I have on it,” Lucy says, tearing a bite off the meat.
“I wish I could tell you more,” Indi shakes his head. “But I’ve taught you all I know of the Celestial World. There have been rumours, the odd whisper or two- that all the golden keys together could open a new gate- but that’s all I know of it.”
“So we’ll start with the gold keys,” Lucy decides, “How long until I can summon those?”
“Not very long now,” Indi smiles, melancholic, “As soon as you finish making contracts with the silver keys.”
The look on his face makes her shift in her seat.
“I know I’ve said it before,” Lucy starts, “but thank you. I… I don’t really know what I would’ve done without you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Indi looks at her with a sad smile, “I’m just happy to know I’m leaving the keys in good hands.” He pauses, “I don’t have a wife nor any children. The fate of the keys have been the source of great worry for me this past decade. Whatever happens to me now, I know they’ll be okay.”
“You’re a good egg, Indi,” She says, after a brief moment of silence, making Indi bark a laugh.
-
When they’d stopped at Freesia, Lucy thought she’d stepped into the steampunk world of her dreams. The city was divided by social class and they’d stayed in a rundown motel in the poorer sections. Yet, nothing could damper her joy at seeing the technological marvels the city had to offer. While Indi went about gathering supplies, she roamed around Central Plaza aweing away at the appliances the city had to offer. Truthfully, it felt like visiting the Deutsches Museum. To her world, the latest technology being sold here were relics of a past they’d long since left in the dust. But Lucy’s nothing if not resourceful and she’d argued Indi into staying in the city for an extra day. They didn’t have any money to spare, but that’s when all those music lessons from her mother came into use. She asked around and found the most visited bar in the city and asked them to let her play the set that evening.
They’d almost laughed her out the door, but she refused to leave without at least auditioning. Long story short, one evening of tips and payment, and Lucy was the proud owner of a basic toolkit. Figures, some Billy Joel always wins crowds over. The whole ordeal impressed Indi, so much so that whenever they needed an extra expense, he just had her play at a new bar.
It made her a little nervous, she didn’t want to find acclaim, but they always gave a fake name to whoever asked and never stayed at the same place for longer than a day. Lucy figured that made it okay.
Which is how she finds herself at a rundown pub in the Blooming City of Crocus, keeping an eye at the discreet table in the far-right corner that Indi’s called his own for the evening. Indi tips his glass to her when she catches his eye, before he goes back to staring at the entrance. She knows he’s waiting for someone, but he hasn’t told her who yet.
“You’re good to go, Leia?’ Kaden asks her from backstage. He’s the young manager of this fine establishment, wearing a graphic shirt and baggy jeans.
“Yep,” Lucy mouths from the stage, showing him a thumbs up. He nods, satisfied, before leaving her to it. She turns back to the crowd, smiling her best showgirl smile. It must still work, because a few men whoop at her. She pretends to be flustered, letting out a fake giggle at the table, before taking a seat on the stool in front of the piano. “Good evening, everybody!”
Many call back at her, which kind of surprises her but then again it shouldn’t. Lucy supposes that’s what happens to blondes with a lower cut dress. “I’m Leia and I’ll be your entertainment for the evening, it’s a pleasure to meet you all!”
“Hey Leia!” calls out one of the guys who’d whooped at her earlier, emboldened now, buoyed by drink and applause. Some of his friends laugh and smack him hard on the back, encouragement disguised as mockery.
“Hey, random guy,” Lucy shoots back without missing a beat. She winks at him, exaggerated and theatrical, and it works exactly as intended. He flushes red all the way up his neck, laughter breaking out around him at his expense. “Wow,” she adds, leaning closer to the microphone, voice warm and amused, “we’ve got a sweet crowd tonight.”
The bar responds in kind. A few people cheer, others lift their mugs and bottles in a sloppy toast, the sound of glass on wood ringing out. Lucy lets herself smile, wide and easy, the kind of smile she’s perfected over decades, one that promises intimacy without offering any. She turns back to the piano and plays a few loose notes, testing the sound, grounding herself in the familiar weight of the keys beneath her fingers.
That’s when the door opens.
She clocks him instantly. Uniform. Cut clean and pressed, the kind of fabric that doesn’t wrinkle no matter how long the day’s been. Council. Her shoulders tense a fraction, invisible to anyone not trained to notice. At first, she ignores him, lowers her gaze and starts the tune she knows by heart, muscle memory carrying her through the opening bars.
Then he walks straight to Indi.
Her fingers falter, just for a breath, just long enough for one sour note to threaten the melody. She recovers immediately, smooth as silk, letting the music swell to cover the mistake. Her eyes slide away from the table, fixed firmly on the crowd, on the amber glow of lantern light and the blur of faces.
“For you,” she sings, voice steady, soft around the edges, a song she’s worn thin over years of karaoke nights and half-drunk harmonies with Rhodey, “there’ll be no more crying. For you, the sun will be shining.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees it: the man pulling Indi into a brief embrace, familiar, practiced. Indi’s face breaks into a grin, easy and genuine at first glance, like he’s greeting an old friend. The sight twists something low in her gut.
“It’s alright,” she continues, fingers gliding, “I know it’s right.”
The man glances her way, nodding once, an acknowledgment more than appreciation. She doesn’t return it. Instead, she widens her smile for the room, letting her gaze linger on a group near the bar who are already swaying along, caught in the current of the song. The man sits, leaning in toward Indi, their heads close together as they start to talk.
“To you,” Lucy sings, softer now, “I’ll never be cold.”
She watches them from the corner of her eye as she plays. There’s something off in their body language that needles at her instincts. The man sits too straight, shoulders locked tight as if braced for impact. Indi keeps lifting his glass, sipping more than drinking, the rim of it shielding his mouth every time he speaks. For the first time that evening, Indi’s attention isn’t half on her, tracking her movements the way he always does. Whatever this conversation is, it has all of him.
Lucy keeps on playing.
It takes nearly a full minute before the tremor in her hands eases, before her fingers stop hovering and start moving with confidence again, finding the melody and threading it through the noise of the bar. The music begins to live on its own, something she’s guiding rather than controlling.
If only her mother could see her now.
Once, getting Lucy to sit in front of a piano had been like pulling teeth. She’d sulked and argued and glared at the keys like they were an enemy. It still isn’t her favorite thing in the world– but it’s familiar. Reliable. It’s something she knows how to do well, something she can sell. She can play the instrument just as expertly as she can play the crowd, honed over all those years when her mother had pushed her into living rooms and banquet halls, insisting she perform if only to keep Lucy’s hands busy, her mind occupied, her distance from the bottle just a little wider.
It would pay well, too. Enough to keep them moving. Enough to keep her from needing favors she doesn’t want to owe.
She sticks to songs she could play in her sleep, ones she can see mapped out in her head with her eyes closed. Fleetwood Mac carried her through the long nights at MIT, through exhaustion and isolation and the stubborn belief that she had to be better than everyone else just to survive. Billy Joel came later, after the phone calls, after the funerals, after the world narrowed to a single, aching point.
And Rhodey– Rhodey had been there for all of it. She can almost see him now, perched on the edge of the piano bench, singing along off-key, eyes bright with a joy so uncomplicated it used to make her laugh. For a fleeting second, if she allows herself the indulgence, she feels it again, that warmth, that sense that no part of her is too dark to be loved.
She doesn’t allow it for long.
"And the songbirds keep singing,” she sings instead, voice lifting, “like they know the score.”
At the table, Indi laughs at something the man says. Lucy hears it even over the music, and it’s wrong, too sharp, too quick, stripped of its usual warmth. It doesn’t sound like amusement. It sounds like a reflex. Indi’s eyes flick up, meeting hers for the briefest instant before snapping away again, his expression carefully neutral.
“And I love you,” Lucy sings, the words ringing out clear and unguarded, “I love you, I love you, like never before.”
The applause comes in waves, louder than she expects, hands clapping against wood and skin and glass. Lucy rises from the stool, bows on instinct, her body moving through the motions before her mind catches up. She smiles, warm and practiced, lets the sound wash over her, and then steps back from the piano.
“That was amazing!” Kaden’s grinning at her when she exits the stage, “What was that song you just sang? Are you available tomorrow night?”
“That’ll depend on the tips,” She replies, not entirely on purpose, but Kaden laughs nonetheless.
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” He says, pleased. “Anyway, I have to go back out there but you killed it tonight! I’m gonna book you a gig tomorrow, just in case. No pressure at all.”
She laughs, despite herself, at his wink, but shakes his hand anyway.
“I’ll come around to your table in a bit with the money, okay? Until then, drinks are on me.”
A couple of patrons are already on their feet when she comes out.
“That was beautiful,” one of them says, too close, breath heavy with drink. “You play here often?”
“No,” Lucy replies lightly, sidestepping him. “Just passing through.”
Another voice joins in. “Can I buy you something?”
She opens her mouth, ready with a polite deflection, when Indi appears at her side. Not hurried. Not alarmed. Just there, solid and immovable in a way she hadn’t realized she’d been leaning on all evening.
“She’s done for the night,” Indi says pleasantly. “But thank you for listening.”
There’s something in his tone that brooks no argument. The men grumble, disappointed but not offended, and drift back toward the bar. Lucy exhales, slow and controlled, and turns toward Indi.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
He nods once. “Come on. Let’s not linger.”
They regroup at the table and Lucy finally gets a good look at the man. He’s slim, of average height, with his long black hair tied up neatly. He’s got two bangs that cover up his forehead, but his lavender eyes peak out from his circular-lensed glasses.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you properly,” The man offers her a hand, lips curved in a smile. “I am Lieutenant Lahar of the Rune Knights, Indi’s told me very little about you.”
She’s about to take his hand to shake when his name makes her freeze. She whips her head to look at Indi, the question clear in her eyes.
“Lieutenant Lahar?” She verbalises. “That’s…”
“I see my reputation precedes me?” Lahar asks, eyes darting between them, looking unsettled.
“Yes,” Indi meets her eyes, before going back to smile at the Lieutenant, “He’s one of Sophia’s instructors, maybe she mentioned him?”
“Ah, that makes sense,” Lahar motions for them to sit, “Indi mentioned you came to know the family. Sophia’s brilliant, she’ll make a fine knight one day. Such a shame what happened.”
Indi nods, looking as pained as he seemed that night at the party. But something about the way Lahar says it…
“Have you spoken to Sophia since it happened?” Lucy asks, sliding into her seat. “Do you know how she is?”
“I haven’t spoken to her myself, no,” Lahar shakes his head. “She sent word saying she’ll need some time off from the academy a week ago. The new semester begins soon, I’m hoping her studies aren’t disrupted too much.”
The answer’s undeniably disappointing, but expected.
“I’ve caught Lucy here up to all the relevant details,” Indi gestures. “You can speak freely.”
“Yes,” Lahar says, pleased. “I heard, congratulations! I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful mage.”
“Uh, thanks,” Lucy leans with her elbows on the table. “I got a good teacher.”
“That is true,” Lahar smiles at Indi. “He’s taught me a lot of what I know, too. Believe me, it’s been some big shoes to fill back at the council.”
“I’m retired, Lahar,” Indi quirks an eyebrow. “I’ve got no more strings to pull for you.”
Lahar rolls his eyes. “Of course, how could I forget his peculiar sense of humour?”
Indi grins. “I can’t say I haven’t missed being an agent, either. How are things back at the council?”
“Tense these days,” Lahar explains, grimacing. “Yokio’s death has hit hard, we’re investigating but I’m holding off on approaching his family. That seems… unnecessary.”
“Unnecessary security risk, you mean,” Indi points out. “The majority of his missions aren’t something the Council wants civilians poking their noses in. My congratulations on keeping it out of the press, Lahar.”
Lahar scowls, all the politeness from his face wiped.
“You should be thankful for that,” He shoots back. “The last thing we want is reporters flooding Middlemist,” He turns to look at her, “Neither of your absences have been missed by the locals.”
The thought makes her breath catch in her throat. What must they think– what must Remal think?
“Indi told me Eisenwald’s behind it all,” Lucy says, instead. “What’s the investigation for, then?”
“There are certain loose ends left–”
“Leia, hey!” Kaden’s voice startles them, she twists her head to see him navigating across the throngs of bodies to reach their table. “There you are!”
“Oh hey,” Lucy says, relaxing her shoulders and plastering an open smile on her face. “Look at that, you found me.”
“Yay me,” Kaden agrees, “And yay you!”
He hands her a wad of cash, the size of it momentarily catches her off-guard.
“Wow,” She says, blinking. “Is it everyone’s birthday?”
“No, they’re just in love,” Kaden teases, making Lucy give him a look.
“Not surprised,” Lahar says, making Kaden look at him. “You were wonderful, it was a pleasure to watch.”
“Right, dude?” Kaden holds up a fist for Lahar to bump, before freezing as if he was finally seeing the man properly. “Wait… the outfit, dude, are you from the Council?”
“And I believe that’s our cue to leave,” Indi says, abruptly, getting up. He gives Lahar a sour look. “Were you expecting differently?”
Lahar presses his lips into a thin line. “...I didn’t have time to change.”
“Right then, we’ve gotta go,” Lucy takes a few bills out of the stack to hand to Kaden. “That should cover the bill, I think. Thanks for letting me play–”
“What?” Kaden blinks at her in surprise, “What’s going on here?”
“Let’s move it,” Indi insists.
“The bill’s covered, I told you–”
They don’t wait to hear him out. Outside, the sky’s darkening. Yet, Crocus breathes like a living thing. Its streets are wide and deliberate, laid out with the confidence of a city that knows it is the heart of a kingdom. Pale stone roads stretch outward from the palace district in gentle arcs, worn smooth by centuries of boots, carts, and magic alike. In places, the stone gives way to patterned brick or polished marble inlays, sigils worked subtly into the pavement, wards against fire, floods or worse, so old that most people no longer notice them.
The people of Crocus wear the city the way one wears well-used clothes. They move through the streets in plain, practical dress, their lives unfolding beneath a city lavishly dressed in flowers. Stone houses are draped in climbing vines and heavy blooms spill from window boxes and balconies overhead, petals occasionally drifting down to scatter across the road. Vendors work beneath arches wrapped in ivy, bakers lean in doorways framed by blossoms, and children dart between carts while the air carries the constant scent of greenery and soil. Faces are weathered, expressions shaped by habit and quiet endurance, as if the beauty surrounding them is simply another part of the landscape– appreciated, but never allowed to slow the steady rhythm of daily life.
Must be nice.
“Come this way,” Lahar motions, “We must keep moving. There is safety in crowds.”
He picks up a brisk pace of walk, leaving Lucy and Indi to catch up.
“I have so many questions,” Lucy says, exasperated, coming to walk beside him.
“As do I,” Lahar gives her an unimpressed look. “For one, who are you?”
It’s a fair question, she has to admit.
“Name’s Lucy,” She replies, “It’s very nice to meet you. What does that have to do with the situation at hand?”
“It has everything to do with it,” Lahar says. “Retired agents live peacefully for two decades, you come in and one of them’s dead in twenty-four hours and the other’s declared you his heir. What picture is being painted here, exactly?”
“It’s none of your business what I do with my celestial spirits,” Indi states.
“It becomes the Council’s business when the Lullaby’s in question,” He defends, eyebrows twitching in annoyance.
“But the Lullaby’s secured,” Lucy says, confused. She glances at Indi. “You said Eisenwald doesn’t have it.”
Lahar stops in his steps, pausing to look at them grimly.
“Things have changed,” He says. “We had a security leak. That’s how they found out where you and Yokio were.”
“But they killed Yokio and missed Indi,” Lucy points out.
“And that might’ve been the end of that,” Lahar looks at Indi, with meaning Lucy can’t decipher.
“But they sensed you,” Indi concedes, after a pause. He looks at her sympathetically. “They felt your magic energy, something that wasn’t there before. They knew there was something far more powerful in Middlemist now.”
It feels like being bathed in cold water.
“So it’s my fault? They came back for me?”
“That would imply they ever left,” Indi shakes his head. “They’d been… watching. I felt it. I was going to have to leave, with or without you.”
“They just made their move first,” Lahar concludes.
There’s a cruel joke here, somewhere. All she’s tried to do since she woke up in this strange land is to keep herself unnoticed, blend into the background until she can find herself a way back home. But it doesn’t matter, it can’t matter, because here she is anyway, the Merchant of Death. She destroys families without even trying.
“Okay, what do we do now?” Lucy asks, steeling herself.
Lahar pauses at that.
“We’ll go back to the Headquarters,” Lahar says. “I’ll arrange for guards to accompany you to the ports. From there, you can take a ship to Stella.”
“Lahar, wait,” Indi says, horror coloring his voice. “Stella? We have to leave Fiore?”
“Indi, we’re not left with choice here–”
“I refuse,” Indi says. “I’m not leaving, this is my homeland. I refuse to die on foreign soil.”
“The whole point is to keep you from dying,” Lahar snaps. “Be reasonable, please.”
“Lahar, I am old,” Indi pleads. “I have an heir who’s almost ready to take the keys. I don’t have a wife or any children. All I have is this kingdom and all that there’s left for me to do is die. I’m not letting the Council take that from me, too.”
“Indi, we don’t have time for this!” Lahar hisses. “Please, just come to the Council– we’ll figure it out, but–”
He doesn’t get to finish. It hits like a fist to the chest. One moment she’s standing there, half-turned toward Indi, the noise of the street a dull, familiar hum and the next the world detonates. The sound is violent and absolute, a tearing crack that drives the air from her lungs as the street erupts beneath them. Stone explodes upward, heat and force slamming into her hard enough that her feet leave the ground. She’s weightless for a split second, spinning, the sky and lantern light blurring together, petals and dust whipping past her face. Then her back collides with stone, sharp, breath-stealing, the impact rattling through bone and muscle alike and she slides down the wall in a haze of pain and ringing ears. Smoke burns her throat as she gasps, vision swimming, the street she’d been standing on moments ago reduced to shouting shadows and falling debris.
Being blasted into a wall isn’t an uncommon experience for her. But having it happen when she’s woefully without armor is rare, and she feels every inch of that scarcity. She pushes herself up anyway, tries to rub the dust out of her eyes to blink at the culprit in front of her– a tanned man with a sharp chin, with thick dark lines circling his eyes. He dons a distinctive jacket, light in the low part and dark in the upper one and on the sleeves, with a tight hood covered in black and light stripes.
He grins at the wreck, the mania in his eyes making Lucy’s spine crawl.
“Finally found you,” He purrs, though his anger betrays his tone. “Little knights… oh finally!”