Elsinor Tarqqantes

(USED THIRTEEN)

Blood flows darkest when cut from the throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gajeel Ressaog

Get enough blood. Get it fast. And don't forget to have fun! After the first kill, it all gets so much easier. Those were the last words from Tig before all was silent—especially the tributes standing on the beach around Gajeel.

Gajeel grinned and cracked his knuckles. "Finally. A good brawl."

A girl tribute next to him looked at him as if he was insane.

Then again, with the wicked grin on his face and the sparkling gleam in his eye, he looked the part. Tig said to have fun, well... I'll have fun, Gajeel thought.

Before anyone else had the chance to react, Gajeel headed straight for Mathias. He took him by surprise and tackled him to the ground. Gajeel punched him twice in the jaw, before the man finally placed up his hands to block him. Mathias slashed Gajeel's side with a dagger, one that Gajeel hadn't seen.

Gajeel hissed and reeled back, jumping to his feet and backed away from him.

"Ready for round two, outcast?" Mathias snapped as he stood to his own two feet.

Gajeel touched the wound on his side with his hand. It came back covered in blood.

"What's the matter, outcast? Did that hurt?"

Gajeel grinned. "No. That tickled." With those words, Gajeel darted toward Mathias once again. This time, he was ready for the dagger; expecting it.

He stuck his right forearm in front of his face, blocking the dagger as Mathias struck downward. It slashed open his arm, but as the pain flared there, Gajeel laughed.

He twisted his wrist to grab the dagger and wrench it from Mathias' hand.

Mathias' eyes flickered in surprise. It was subtle and brief, but Gajeel didn't miss it. He slowly backed away, as if concerned about what Gajeel was planning to do next.

Shrugging, Gajeel threw it as hard as he could into the ocean.

Mathias stared after it in surprise.

"Surprised? Thought I'd try to stab you with it?" Gajeel asked. "Now where would the fun be in that?"

Mathias growled at him and charged toward him, this time tackling Gajeel to the ground. He grunted as Mathias pounded him in the face a few times, leaving Gajeel disoriented.

"You done, yet?" Gajeel asked.

Mathias slammed his fist against Gajeel's nose.

Gajeel felt as well as heard it crack. "I'll take that as a no." Gajeel brought his left elbow up and jammed it into Mathias' neck. As he gasped and struggled for air that wouldn't come, Gajeel twisted and rolled over across the sand, until he was on top of Mathias. "Now, you're done," Gajeel said as he pounded his fist into the right side of Mathias' face. He roughly pressed his knee into Mathias' chest, making it even harder for air to reach his lungs.

Mathias struggled, kicking his legs, trying anything to get Gajeel off of him, but Gajeel refused to budge. He continued slamming his fists against Mathias' face, and didn't stop until he nearly crushed the man's nose.

"Payback's a bi—"

Before Gajeel could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by someone else.

"Force." Gajeel was thrown several feet away, and landed on the hard ground. He was thrown far enough away to land off the beach and onto the edges of the jungle behind him. Elsyia stood just beside Mathias as he stood up. Blood dripped from his nose, forehead and eye, and some of it pooled at his feet.

Gajeel's entire face radiated in pain, but he felt none of it. His blood was pumping and his heart was pounding. He cracked his neck and grinned. Crimson blood dripped onto his mouth and stained his teeth, making him look a bit crazed.

He extended his arms in front of him and held his palms up toward the sky. "Light wave!" He yelled it loud, letting his voice reverberate around the entire area.

Energy swarmed inside of him, buzzing through his veins just as much as adrenaline. He felt as if he was burning, but it was good. Exciting. The warm buzz continued zapping through him, until it swam through his arms and reached his palms. It stayed there, collecting and building more and more, until it exploded from his hands.

White light protruded from the tips of his fingers, bursting in front of him like a tidal wave. It was so bright that anyone who was near either closed their eyes or turned away.

Sand and dirt flew into the air, as Gajeel's light wave crashed through anything and everything in front of him. Over all the noise, Gajeel heard Elysia say, "Shield."

It took nearly half a minute before Gajeel could see through all the dust and sand. Elsya and Mathias crouched behind a shield made entirely out of magic.

"You call me an outcast, Mathias? What good is your magic, huh?" Gajeel taunted. He mentally cursed at himself. He enjoyed his magic, but as soon as it was used... no one could beat him.

His magic sucked the fun right out of everything. This is why I prefer to brawl with my own two fists, Gajeel thought.

"You want to see useful?" Mathias asked as he stood out from Elsyia's shield, which was slowly fading. "How's this?"

Mathias closed his eyes and raised his hands. "Shift forms!" he cried. He muttered under his breath, but it was too low for Gajeel to hear what he was saying.

Suddenly, Mathias' entire body trembled violently. His skin rippled and changed, his face contorted. Gajeel could hear the sounds of bones shifting, making him frown.

He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Gajeel blinked several times, and stared at Mathias. He was looking at himself.

Slowly, Gajeel's other self—Mathias, Gajeel mentally corrected himself—raised his hands in the air, just like Gajeel had.

"Oh shi—"

He never had a chance to finish his sentence. A burst of white light exploded from Mathias' hands, sweeping across the sand back toward Gajeel like a hurricane. Gajeel was once again thrown backward, and landed in a heap on the ground.

He gasped several times, trying to catch his breath. Pain radiated in every muscle of his body, especially when he tried to move. He blinked several times, trying to orientate himself. "No. Frak no. No one uses my own magic against me!" Gajeel shouted. He forced himself to his aching feet and growled.

Shifting his right foot slightly behind his left, Gajeel extended his arms in front of him, and then placed his right arm across his left. "Solar flare!"

Light blasted toward Mathias before he had a chance to react. Mathias screamed and collapsed onto the sand below him as he changed back into himself.

He didn't move for several minutes.

Elysia was nowhere to be found.

Mathias slowly stood, shaking and grunting with effort.

"Stay down," Gajeel warned.

"I will not lose to an outcast like you." Mathias spit on the ground at Gajeel's feet.

Gajeel raised his hands, preparing to do his ultimate attack to finish Matthias off.

Suddenly, before he fully knew what was happening, Mathias darted to the left quicker than Gajeel's eyes could follow. Mathias grabbed a young kid, Enzo, and held a dagger to his throat.

How did he get a dagger? From where? And where did Enzo come from? How did he even grab the kid? Questions formed in Gajeel's mind, but he was unable to answer any of them. "How did you...?"

Mathias smiled. "Grab him?"

Gajeel clenched his jaw. "He can read minds, so how?"

Mathias shrugged. "It's easy. You just don't think. Even mind-readers have their weaknesses."

Gajeel laughed. "And you, what? You think the fact that you might kill a kid is mine?" Gajeel glared at him, as if daring Mathias to do it. I don't live by any rules... What makes him think I care? Gajeel thought.

He paused. Do I? As Gajeel asked himself the question, he genuinely thought about his answer. If Mathias really did kill the kid here and now, and Gajeel did nothing to stop it... Would he be okay with that? Could he live with that?

Before he got the chance to find out, Mathias sliced the dagger across Enzo's throat.

Off in the distance, Elysia screamed.

Gajeel roared at him, and charged toward Mathias.

By the time he got there, however, Mathias was gone. All that was left was Enzo's body. He's a scrawny thing, Gajeel thought. Was, he mentally corrected himself. There was blood pooling underneath him, staining the light brown sand bright crimson. So much blood for such a little body...

Elysia sniffled. "He... he was only sixteen... Young and innocent... Why... Why did Matthias...?" She looked at Gajeel, desperate for an answer.

Because there is more cruelty in this world than you will ever know, Gajeel thought. Instead, he said, "Such a waste." He walked away from Enzo's body, painfully forcing his eyes to focus on the jungle ahead of him.

Suddenly, dark fog surrounded him. It was the first time he realized that it was just after sunset. He hadn't realized how late it was—apparently he and Matthias had been brawling all day.

The fog felt cold. Not just any cold... but cold. It was the sort of cold that oozed into your bones, nice and slow. It grabbed you and stabbed you, like thousands of tiny needles puncturing your bare flesh.

The fog threw everything into such darkness, Gajeel could hardly see. His limbs suddenly felt heavy, as if they weighed too much for him to carry. Wha...? His thoughts were sluggish and lethargic. Funny... I don't remember... drinking...

A dark silhouette, as black as the fog around it, appeared in front of Elysia. Its face was hidden beneath a hood. Gajeel winced as it brought a single, bony hand out to touch her face.

She screamed and her knees buckled. Where it touched her, her veins turned black and popped out, as if they were going to explode. The mark on her hand—the one they had all been cursed with—glowed, despite the fact that it was black in color.

It reminded Gajeel of the mark on his own hand. The mark he had forgotten.

Elysia's scream cut off with a gurgle.

Blue and white energy escaped from her, seeping and oozing, as slow as puss from an infected wound. The energy took form inside the silhouette, who glided across the ground toward another tribute that Gajeel couldn't fully see.

Crap, Gajeel thought. I should probably do something about that... He wracked his lethargic brain, trying to think of what to do to save his own skin. Well... they said it was a curse. What would break it again? Something about washing it in blood?

Gajeel crawled over to Enzo's body and stuck his palm in the pool of blood underneath Enzo's neck. "Sorry little fellow. At least you didn't die in vein," Gajeel murmured to him.

He felt a presence behind him. He dared not turn to look. Somehow, he knew it was the thing—the silhouette of Uryel Deathbringer—coming for him. To steal his soul, and kill him.

Gajeel couldn't let that happen.

Frantically and desperately, Gajeel wiped Enzo's blood all over his hand. He covered his entire arm in it, as if he was bathing in it. It coated him and not just Enzo's blood. There was blood on his face—his own, as well as Mathias' from the fight earlier.

Cold. It was so cold. Gajeel struggled to remember why he'd been in such a hurry, and what it was he was trying to do.

Agony slammed into him, crushing him and weighing him down. Uryel. He suddenly remembered the curse, and the spirit coming for him.

Blood.

It wasn't working. He had scrubbed the mark with Enzo's blood just like Tig had said, but it wasn't coming off.

Why? Dang it...Gajeel's vision began to flicker, as his thoughts became even more sluggish than before. Blood. Death... killing...

He closed his eyes and swallowed when he realized what he was going to have to do.

He was going to have to kill. Scrub the stain with enough blood and it'll come right off...

Gajeel could feel his soul slowly leaving his body. He was in so much agony he couldn't move. Every twitch caused him excruciating pain. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around him. Eira, Dhruvia, Garnet and Callus were all scattered around the beach, on their knees, weakened from Uryel's presence.

Gajeel placed his index and middle fingers against each other in both hands, and then touched the tips of his fingers together. "Spectrum!" He had meant to yell it out loud, but it came out a hoarse whisper; too soft for even his own ears to hear.

Light surrounded him, just as the darkness from Uryel did. They circled one another, as if battling for control of Gajeel himself. He screamed until his throat was raw, as agony burned through him. Every thing about himself was being ripped away, one string at a time, shattering him into a million pieces. He felt lost... distant... as if he was not himself.

Brilliant white light exploded away from Gajeel, covering everything on the beach within a mile radius. It lit the world, making it appear as if it were noon rather than midnight.

Uryel screeched and faded, slithering away from Gajeel.

Though he was physically covered in blood—Enzo and Matthias— it had not been enough. The blood of one dead kid that he didn't even kill, and one man whom he had only severely beaten hadn't been enough to break the curse.

Gajeel collapsed onto the ground, surrounded by five bodies, four of which were killed by him. Their blood stained his hands. It was their blood that had broken the curse.

He was a murderer—a cold, blooded killer.

The last thing he thought before he fell unconscious was something that Tig said that stuck with him.

"Get enough blood. Get it fast. And don't forget to have fun! After the first kill, it all gets so much easier."

The corners of Gajeel's lips pulled upward into a sadistic grin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aria Gracen

Horror.

Aria only felt horror.

Suffocating, smothering, heart-thumping horror.

As the crystal panel disappeared from her line of vision, all of the twenty-three magi stood shocked and stunned on the beach for a few seconds—Aria included. It was not until a hawk cried overhead did she snap out of her stupor, and by then, Dhruva al Thea had already leapt at Enzo of Siyamak, his muddy-brown eyes flashing with desperation and anger.

Then, all hell broke loose.

Magi turned on each other like a pack of dogs, using their magic to their advantage. Screams of terror, pain and fear reached Aria's ears, the sound of the dying piercing her heart like a thousand knives. All she wanted was to turn back time, go home to her beloved Croarag and play her darling Antonia. She would endure any amount of teasing and wide-eyed stares if she could leave this nightmare behind. I don't want this! Her mind screamed for her to go, to run before some maddened magi would come for her too. I don't want any of this! Yet her body refused to move as Aria Gracen stared with nothing but anguish and fear in her eyes as more magi fell—including Enzo and another one of her fellow Croaragians, Elsinor.

"Please, stop" without knowing it, Aria found herself muttering the same words she had spoken on the ship, "I tried, I did, I tried." The image of the captive dove, with its wide chocolate-brown eyes, once again popped into her mind. Why didn't you save me? It asked, its tone innocent and void of any accusation—and this made Aria's heart clench more. I'm here, I'm waiting. Come set me free, Aria Gracen.

Aria stumbled backwards, slipping in the sand, her slender fingers clawing at her mass of ginger hair. Stop it, go away! Go away, go away, go away! Her feet moved of their accord, and when Aria's mind finally cleared she found herself staggering away from the chaotic bloodshed on the beach like a drunkard, heading towards the lush emerald-green trees of the jungle. It took Aria another second to realize that Atlanta's hand was entwined in hers, and the older girl was tugging her forward like a rag doll.

"Atlan—Miss Atlanta?" Aria mumbled groggily as if awoken from a deep, deep sleep. Her thoughts seemed unnaturally jumbled and distorted, "Wha-what?"

"Come on," Atlanta tugged Aria along the winding sandy beach, the stretch of forest appearing closer with their every step. Aria noted that her costly blue dress was now torn and matted with a dry red substance. Blood? "You're in shock, we have to go and find Callus!"

Aria opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted as Atlanta suddenly stumbled backwards into the arms of the smaller girl, sending both magi tumbling into the grainy sand. Atlanta landed with a pain-filled grunt, arms flailing, beside where Aria lay winded. She was still trying to fully comprehend what exactly was happening, but her questions were made clear as Gajeel stepped forward, a beam of pure light resting in the palm of his calloused hands. A lump arose in Aria's throat as she spotted spots of crimson adorning Gajeel's ragged cheeks. Atlanta uttered a groan, and only then did Aria realize that the right shoulder of the hydromancer was an ugly shade of scaly red. Burned, it was like someone turned on a light bulb in Aria's head, he burned her with his light.

"Sorry, Miss Atlanta," Gajeel sounded winded, like he had barely escaped from a fight of his own. The black-haired Croaragian turned to Atlanta's injured form lying on the beach, her shoulder wound blistering and bleeding, "But I have to do what I can to survive." He generated another ball of light in his hands. In hopelessness, Atlanta turned to Aria lying a few feet away from her, the older girl's brown hairs wide and pleading. Once again, the memory of the dove appeared in Aria's mind. Those slender snow-white wings, the petite body, those eyes...

Save me, Aria. Set me free. Let me soar.

As Gajeel stepped forward to finish Atlanta off, Aria launched herself up at Gajeel's back in an attempt to unsettle the older magi. The trick seemed to work, as Gajeel pitched forward with a surprised yelp with Aria clinging onto his back like a second skin, the girl's nails digging into his flesh. Atlanta rolled out of the way just in time as both Gajeel and Aria hit the grainy sand with a thud, the breath getting knocked out of the smaller girl and causing her grip on Gajeel's shoulders to loosen. The older man seemed hardly unfazed, however, as he whirled around faster than the wind and delivered a stinging slap to Aria's cheek, throwing the girl backwards. Aria cried out in surprise and pain, only for her to be silenced as Gajeel as he grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and slammed her head onto the ground, doing his best to shove her into the sand to suffocate her.

Panic overtook the previous horror as sand, sand and more sand filled Aria's nostrils and mouth, choking and blinding her. She did her best to wriggle out of Gajeel's grip, but to no avail—the man was simply too powerful. She opened her mouth to cough—a big mistake, for now even more salty sand entered her mouth and delved into her throat and bringing tears to her eyes. I'm going to die, Aria thought, feeling a black haze take over her mind. I'm...going...to...die.

However, suddenly—Gajeel's grip on her shoulders loosened, disappearing entirely, and with all the remaining amount of strength she had left Aria Gracen propelled herself upwards, spitting out mud and dust from her mouth and taking in gulps of precious air. Her face burned—everything burned, but suddenly Atlanta's voice cut through her mind like a knife, "Aria! Gods, Aria! Wait, oh heavens, here."

To Aria, there was nothing more soothing or refreshing as cool water as Atlanta did her best to wash out the remaining sand from Aria's eyes and nose, using her power to draw water from the molecules in the air. Finally, bit by bit, Aria could see relatively well, her heartbeat starting to calm. She turned to thank Atlanta for saving her life, when her blue irises connected to the still, unmoving body of Gajeel Ressaog—very clearly, dead. But that wasn't the thing that made Aria's heart leap onto her throat, oh no. It was eyeballs hanging out of Gajeel's sockets that did that. The smell of crimson blood was fresh in the air as Aria stumbled up, supported by Atlanta.

"Who..." Aria whispered as soon as she trusted her voice to speak, "Who did that?" her whole body trembled.

Atlanta grimaced as her shoulder moved and glanced at Aria strangely. Her next words nearly stopped Aria's heart:

"A bird, Aria. A white dove."

My dove?

For the fourth time that day, the vision of the white dove in the marketplace surfaced from the depths of Aria's mind. Except, this time it's words were entirely different, and instead of calming Aria down, it did nothing but send silvers of terror down her back.

"You owe me, Aria Gracen. You owe me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elisa Brisa

Calm down Elysia, all you have to do is kill someone. Easy. Almost like squashing a bug. Except bigger, and human. Alright, so it's nothing like killing a bug, but you gotta get this over with otherwise you're gonna be dead by nightfall.

I snap back to attention after hearing the first scream come from somewhere behind me, I run out of the clearing and off into the woods, making sure no one is following me. Why did I do this? I can't kill someone, what the hell is this. I stare down at my hands in horror, the black markings glaring at me in the angry red light of dawn. I glance back towards the clearing, half of them are already.

Oh crap, what if I'm next? I can't do this. I feel a panic attack coming on as tears are streaming from my eyes. This is it, this is how I die.

I'm suddenly slammed against the ground, I frantically search for the puzzle piece in my pocket. I squeeze it so hard, I start to bleed as I will for the wind to pick up, but before I can I feel a hand grab the puzzle piece out of my hand. I scream in frustration and start clawing at their face. "Give it back!" I shouted.

I feel a hard slap across my face and my eyes focus in on a pair of silver eyes glaring at me.

"Gajeel?" I asked confused.

"Let's go Elysia!". He grabs my wrist and suddenly I'm being dragged across the forest floor although it doesn't take long for me to understand the situation and soon we're running side by side while shots of fire are blazing past us.

I take a quick glance behind me and see Sierra. We've been here for less than 24 hours and I already barely recognized her. Her usually perfect hair was a mess of dirt and tangles; she was covered in mud and leaves. Sierra was bleeding profusely from a gash on her left cheek. Gajeel pulls me into a nearby cave, but Sierra wasn't letting up.

"Gajeel, stop! She's not giving up, we need a new plan because clearly running isn't gonna stop her," I snap at him.

"Well, miss vigilante, you've been running from the law for 5 years now, why don't you come up with a better plan? No response? Exactly what I thought."

I glared over at him, my lungs were burning; I physically couldn't run any further. This body was not made for running. I veered off the path and began climbing a nearby tree, "Where the hell are you going? Trees burn, remember?" Gajeel shouted from below me. I chose to ignore him and kept climbing higher and higher.

I looked down below me and saw Sierra burning the area around the tree, ensuring that I couldn't jump down and she began climbing up the tree after me. I was running out of options and I needed to do something fast.

I glance around me and see a neighboring tree just within jumping distance, I glance down at the burning ground at least 30 feet below me. I didn't want to do it, but she was gaining on me and I was almost at the top of the tree.

I could see Gajeel's worried face in the distance, "Just jump Elysia!" He shouted over the roar of the fire.

I took a deep breath and jumped to the tree, but I just barely missed the branch. Luckily I grabbed on the one right below that. I saw her climb to the top of the tree and falter momentarily. Here's my one and only shot.

I grab my puzzle piece and the wind picks up immediately and forms a fire tornado around Sierra's tree. She takes a sloppy leap and i will the wind to to work against her. Sierra slams against the opposite tree and falls to her death.

I numbly climb down the tree, willing the wind to put out the fire around my trunk. Walking over to her body, I can see her body was bent in ways a body should never be. I fall to my knees and begin sobbing, I feel Gajeel's hand on my shoulder.

"You had to do it Elysia."

I shoot up from my knees, already gripping my puzzle piece. The wind begins to whip around us, "How do I know you're not trying to kill me too?" without having to say anything, he calmly shows his blank palm to me.

I drop the wind, utterly confused. "You cut yourself on the puzzle piece, so I had your blood on my hands. I wouldn't have either way Elysia, I did save you after all."

"I'm sorry Gajeel, I just, i don't know." He walks over and awkwardly pats my back, signalling that we're ok. "You better get some of her blood on your hands." I nod and look down at her. I can't believe I actually killed someone. I took a drop of blood from her cheek and wiped it off on my hand. This wasn't worth it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Callus Therion

HUGGED URYEL-DEATHBRINGER

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vistorice Morale

I didn't know what was colder. My breath, frosted over since before I was given my own name, or the lightning bolt of feeling in the entrails of my chest. I would have to say the latter, for I questioned if the breath was even there, or swept away by the announcement. Behind our little herd of magi was the ocean, already vacant of the sailing ship. I could sense how the moisture littered the atmosphere, like the harmonic undertone to the island's melody. In front, the towering volcano, stained black at the rim by a substance I subconsciously feared. Warmth. My hand quivered at the thought, the veins in my fingers and wrists constraining by- not temperature- but an unfamiliar sensation. Fear. The terror within me caused the black scribbles on my skin to descend into deeper shades of blackness. Although, it surely could have been my own mind, distorting the lines. The tattooed pattern was beautiful, but I wasn't going to believe such a thing in the face of my own death.

The island itself had that sense of reality- of being real. As if the earth believed in superlatives, picking and choosing what lands deserved the label. This island felt like one of those places to me; it was chosen to soar above the rest. For that reason, I felt less existent. The world around me was deformed, as eyes flitted from one side the other, deciphering the battle that was about to begin.

The hill where the Guardians had been was empty when the first attempt of murder had been made. They weren't careless, but unsympathetic enough to ignore the actual play-out of the bloodshed. In all honestly, it infuriated me- the way they acted with such authoritative words, only to disappear moments later. It appeared they were the ones to lack responsibility, and we were the true holders of power. We were all weak under their glances. And with the crimson splatter of liquid against ground, one thing was clear: I wasn't safe.

I turned to see a young woman already dead, with hands digging through her head wound, searching for a splash of blood. A man of unusual stature had one hand inside her skull, while he used the other to enlarge the gaping wound. He weaved his fingers, uncaring of whether or not his fingers pierced her brain. His face wasn't yet aware of his actions, but his curse was in the process of being lifted. I nearly gave up standing there, watching as the girl's blonde hair darkened with her own blood. I felt a tickling in my throat as a substance crawled up its interior, begging me to bend over and purge. All I could do was comply. I bent over, choking and gagging as the bile escaped my mouth, free to stain the already-muddled grass. I watched it go with physical discrepancy, becoming unaware of my surroundings. I wiped a hand against my lips and put it flat on my forehead, looking on, stepping back, heart convulsing rapidly. There was a pair of eyes watching me. I could feel the hunger and thirst in the air- a hunger for my death, thirst for my blood. I was going to stand and fight for my life, to lift the curse. But those eyes stared into my profile like already stabbing knives, and if that sharpness was too overwhelming, then physical blades certainly were too.

It was shameful of me to run.

I could have gone to the jungle and hid, mind stowing away the thought of perishing to the curse until, in the end, I did. Staying underneath the flora of the island would provide comfort in my last moments.

It was shameful of me to run.

The Guardians were completely apathetic, and that was something I misunderstood in them. Maybe, they didn't want to watch, simply because the spilling blood would be too gruesome. I doubted it; Tigaern didn't seem the type to care.

It was shameful of me to run.

I decided the sand of the beach behind me was safe. With everyone distracted by the dead woman, I was able to slip away. The blood from her head wound was slowly running out, and some went to create more holes. Others simply killed someone else, deeming their life unimportant.

It was shameful of me to run.

At least, no one noticed.

Forgetting everything I had heard, I ran straight into the thrashing waves, content to be swept away by their terrifying grasp. My clothes were instantly wet, adrenaline eradicating all signs of my own self. It's what fear does to someone like me; it creates a chaos that fogs the mind like fragile glass.

At least, no one noticed.

I ended up falling to my knees in the water, overwhelmed by the constant taste of slat in my mouth. My mouth grew dry against the moist, but the waves were nothing I concerned. I submerged my hand in the water, seeing the blurriness of the black lines through the white foam the sea was creating. Hysterically, I lifted it out, watching my skin break the water, the black symbol remaining.

At least, no one noticed.

I thrust both hands back in the water, using the unaffected fingers to scrub rigorously. Hoping for the pattern to dissipate into the ocean, longing for this abstract killer to leave me alone, I used all of my energy to try and wash the marking off.

At least, no one noticed.

It wasn't working.

It was shameful of me to run.

Desperately, slowly, calmly, his actions stilled, momentarily giving up; Vistor felt the shame rile in his chest like an unwelcomed meal, ready to purge. His arms were both underwater, up to a few inches above the elbow, soaking. The swirling water around his skin became colder, nearly freezing over. Like a pulse, the foam melted and froze- an irregular heartbeat to Vistor's trepidation. The color remained constant, and anyone standing farther away would be incapable of seeing the change take place. It was a trick of the eye, how the foam twirled into ice, and then back again.

At least, no one noticed.

Vistor turned to face the land again, uncaring, yet burdened, by the wet feeling of his body. His stance sagged because of the weight and moist. The action hadn't yet subdued at the top of the hill, yet Vistor had the feeling that many curses had already been lifted. His ankles were swept with weak wavelets every so often, watching as someone trembled down the hill. Down, away from the battle, and down, towards Vistor. Without the change, he would have been fearful of the incoming attack, but with it, he only saw the advantage.

He hadn't seen Callus behind the man, when he stepped further into the waters. Only the one caught Vistor's eye. It was prevalent that Callus did know Vistor was up ahead, but the cryomancer was too unknowingly distempered to give a damn about perception. His feet just splashed against the ocean's discourse, waiting. The other one was coming closer, eyes locked on Vistor's.

It was clever of him to run.

He should not have noticed.

Every footstep mirrored the other man, as Vistor went a few yards deep into the ocean. Callus halted a few yards out of the ocean, as the man grew in Vistor's vision. He needed the growth, for he was a smaller man due to an illness.

It was clever of him to run.

He should not have noticed.

The swirling foam- the same substance susceptible to Vistor's control-crashed in small puddles against him. Approaching dangerously, Vistor lifted one hand, eyes finally leaving Enzo of Siyamak. Before the smaller man knew what was happening, the foam froze around him into hard ice. He couldn't neither move, nor focus, because of how quickly his bloodstream reacted to the cold. The man would have fallen, if it hadn't been for the way his limbs solidified. Soon, it was clear he wasn't breathing. The frost of the foam and water distilled into Enzo, too much. It was like frostbite of the heart, Vistor's own execution style. He let his hand fall, and the sun's enmity removed all signs of Vistor's sabotage. Water returned to its liquid state and Enzo's body fell, making a splash.

Vistor heard two accounts of body hitting water. Two.

As Enzo floated away, Vistor stepped forward to have his heart constrict for a single beat. No more than one, but it was still more constraint than he has ever felt. Callus had a blue expression. Not from sadness, no, but from the bitterness of frost. He was standing, submerged up to his knees, watching with the same lifeless eyes as Enzo. Except, Callus was still breathing, staring into Vistor with a frozen, surprised look. There was no time to say anything, but an official goodbye. And even then, Callus said something about future, and not present.

"You won't live. But, at least, keep Vistorice away. Give yourself a chance," Callus said, after. After the silence gave me a moment to think, and after the apprehension uncoiled into numbness. After Vistor's comprehension of the preceding actions found itself, alerting him.

After Callus was dead.

Callus fell into the water, not breathing, wounds all over his body trickling slightly and cleaning when he went under. However, Vistor's grief had already surpassed. As soon as he knew the other man was dying, he felt one spark of sorrow. It was gone. His hand was continuously twitching, fatigued from something unidentifiable. He looked down at his hand, remembering.

The curse was still there.

There wasn't a single second of hesitation, when Vistor trudged across the waves and grabbed a hold of Callus' body, taking it out of the ocean. When they hit land, sand attached to every inch of Callus' body, but only Vistor's feet. He was physically in control in every aspect. The fact didn't matter; Callus wasn't alive to fight back.

Vistor was going to use Callus to rid the curse. Without remorse.

Maybe, as Vistorice, he'd care. Maybe, as Vistorice, he'd be dead. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Garnet al Thea

She never could sleep underneath the stars, even if the only star around was the midday sun.

When she was six years old, she had snuck out of bed to see a meteor shower from her bedroom balcony. Her nightgown was little protection against the chilly air, but in her fascination of the sky she had hardly noticed the cold. She hadn't noticed her sister, either, until she was right next to Garnet.

"What are you doing out of bed/" Diamond had asked.

Garnet had only pointed one tiny finger up at the heavens above. She couldn't bear peeling her gaze away from all the pretty stars and comets lighting up against the night's usual darkness.

"The stars," Diamond murmured in answer to her own question. "Garnet, do you know what the stars are?"

"Tiberious al Sola told me that the stars are big balls of light thousands upon thousands of miles away, but they're so much bright that we can see them from here." She had thought that that was incredibly dreamy.

Diamond had grunted at that answer. She had never liked Tiberious al Sola. "Oh, they're more than that, Garnet. If you're a perfect little girl, and you do our family honor, one day you'll be a star." She pointed. "Look, that's our great grandmother the Moon Queen's star, up there. See how it's brighter than most of the others? And over there, that's Mother's."

"Is Daddy a star too?" Garnet had asked innocently. Even eleven years later, Garnet still winced at the memory of the naïvely clueless question.

"Your father isn't dead yet, stupid." She hadn't known it then, but Garnet knew now that her sister had been annoyed by the question.

Garnet had been confused. She hadn't seen her father in a long time, even longer than the time since she'd seen her mother. Wasn't that what death was? When you couldn't see someone you loved anymore?

"And even if he was," Diamond continued, "he wouldn't be a star. You have to promise me you'll be a star, Garnet."

"I promise," Garnet had said without understanding what she was promising.

Diamond had patted her on the cheek. "You have a bit of a disadvantage, I'm afraid. Most of us have two brilliant parents, and you only had one. But that just means you have to work a bit harder to be special." She had leaned in close and whispered into Garnet's ear, "Maybe one day, if you grow up perfect and beautiful, you might even become the Moon Queen."

A burn on her hand dragged her out of the memory. Her eyes flew open. She sat up. It only took her a second to locate the source of the burning sensation on her hand. It was in the form of a black U seemingly painted across her palm.

She swore and scrambled to her feet. She'd never had the disgraceful misfortune of having dealt with this particular curse, although she'd come across it in her studies a deal of time prior. The curse took until the end of sunset to activate, and by activate, she meant obliterate her where she stood.

It was after perhaps an hour of hiking through the forest when the first inklings of other human sound reached her. All right, she thought, quick and easy. That's how this kill had to be in order for her to wash her hands with blood, especially if the other tribute had allies that were apt to take revenge if possible. Quick and easy.

She posed under a clump of infuriatingly disgusting bushes and peered at her victim of choice. It so happened that this victim was a Craoragian, identifiable by the superbly undesirable shade of red all of the honored citizens were required to wear in their hair. Garnet was more than capable of murdering a fellow tribute, especially a weakling from one of the other countries, but the quick and easy part would make the task a bit more of a challenge.

He was alone, at least. She wouldn't have to deal with any pesky affectionate allies that might prevent her from taking the blood she needed. She so loathed any unnecessary complications.

Garnet watched him skin a rabbit and wondered what the best way to take care of him would be. He had a knife, or at least something sharp enough to serve the same purpose, and she had nothing. Engaging him in hand to hand combat would be a mistake she couldn't afford to make, especially if he turned out to be the merciful type of man. The humiliation of losing a self-initiated battle would sting worse than the touch of the Reaper's blade on her soul.

No, she needed a way to destroy him from afar. She glanced down at her hands. Her magic, perhaps. Light wasn't fire, but send too much of it at someone and the results were similar.

Her fingers drifted up to her bone carving, comfortably nestled in her queenly hair. She waited for him to put down the sharp object. Once he did, words spewed from her mouth.

His head spun around. He couldn't see her, blinded by light only he could see. Garnet gritted her teeth. He would die soon, and then she could cut him and wash herself free with his blood.

His eyes were supposed to pop out, and then he'd fall dead. That was the way this spell was supposed to end. But instead of falling out, his eyeballs turned to liquid before Garnet's eyes and dripped down his cheeks.

She frowned and leapt out of the bush. By then his entire head had turned to plasma. No! Stop! This wasn't supposed to happen! She needed blood, not melted tribute!

Garnet let go of her Focus. The magic rushed out of her. Her ears popped. Her hands burned, even worse than they had when the Uryel mark had been made. Apparently, when the Mages said not to let go of your Focus in the middle of a spell, they weren't making idle jests. This hurt.

The disgustingness of the body was almost too much for her feminine sensitivities to bear, but Garnet took the sharp object-a stick with a sharpened rock on the end, as it turned out- and cut an incision in the vein of the body's most solid looking limb.

Red blood slowly trickled out. Garnet held her hands out next to the flow. The blood came out in a pace similar to that of a physically deficient snail, but it dripped out into her hands.

As she washed and waited, she looked to the sky. The other stars hadn't come out yet, but they were still there, just out of view. According to legend, all of her ancestors were out there as well watching her with invisible eyes that never closed.

"Have I ruined my chances?" She whispered. Had that one imperfect spell destroyed her future forever?

She received no answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mei al Thea

"...have fun! After the first kill, it all gets so much easier."

As Tigaern finishes speaking, Mei and almost everyone else stands frozen, looking around at their fellow tributes. Someone is whispering a spell. Then everything seems to happen at once.

A spike made of ice drives itself violently through the chest of a Vasileian girl, splattering blood everywhere. Her braided hair unravels, and the strands of silver woven into it break free, stolen by the strong breeze.

Mei gawks. Someone screams. Many begin casting spells of their own. Others take off running.

Three girls run immediately for the jungle, the Phytomancers. They know they have a much better chance surrounded by vegetation than on the barren beach. Two of them make the safety of the trees, but the third stops in her tracks. She seems to struggle with an invisible force. She falls to her knees and reaches towards the jungle. A vine half-heartedly flutters towards her.

After a moment, her struggles cease, and the snared Phytomancer becomes very still. She then stands and confidently reaches towards the forest. The vine comes eagerly, and for a moment Mei believes that she has broken free of whatever held her. Then the pale Lirimani commands the vine to wrap itself around her own throat.

As the life drains from her ice blue eyes, a Psychomancer with black and purple hair runs up to the unfortunate girl to harvest her blood. Mei looks around frantically, knowing there are two other Psychomancers capable of the same thing.

The moment she turns her head, her vision is blocked by a fireball rushing straight for her. Mei ducks, and the fireball singes her hair as it barrels past, inches above her. It does not simply dissipate, however. Mei curses her luck as the fireball turns to come for her once more. She draws her sword, already glowing with power, and hurriedly traces a symbol in the air.

A glowing circle appears in the air mere seconds before the fireball reaches her. It heads straight for her face, but when it collides with the circle it simply vanishes. Mei breathes out in short-lived relief, before noticing a few others with their sights set on her. She turns and runs along the beach, already casting another spell, as the pyromancer screams in frustration. The scream of frustration turns to something else, a bloodcurdling cry that fades to a gurgle. Mei winces. Within the space of a few minutes, she has already witnessed the deaths of three of her fellows.

As she runs and frantically voices her incantation, Mei reaches down and grabs a handful of sand. She says the final word of her spell and pauses to throw the sand into the air, praying to whatever Gods are listening that no one catches up with her. As the sand rains down, Mei's form becomes less defined, then fades almost completely. Not exactly invisible, but at least camouflaged on the beach, Mei looks back.

No more than a few yards away, a creature is sniffing the air, looking for its lost prey. Mei holds her breath and stands as still as possible. She's never seen such a creature. All long fangs and fierce claws, she certainly doesn't want to try and fight it, and wonders apprehensively how good its sense of smell is. Fortunately it doesn't seem to catch her scent. Before her eyes the creature stands and transforms into a man, who then runs towards the jungle.

It seems that most have decided to follow suit. The only ones left on the beach are those who will never run again. Assuming those bodies have already been drained, Mei heads for the jungle as well.

As she steps from the sandy beach into the lush vegetation of the jungle, her camouflage spell runs out. She keeps her sword at the ready, eyes and ears straining to catch the slightest hint of danger.

"Mei..." A voice whispers her name. It sounds almost familiar, but has a quality to it that reveals to her its true nature.

As she expected, a familiar form appears a short ways ahead through the trees. The woman from her childhood beckons, attempting to draw her deeper into the jungle.

If Mei didn't recognize the slight echo in the voice of the spirit, she might have been fooled. As it is, she points her glowing sword at the thing wearing her wet-nurse's shape. She traces a symbol in the air and flings it at the spirit, forcing it to reveal its true nature.

It screams and changes into a fearsome ghoul with black pits for eyes and a too-big, dark hole of a mouth. It rushes her, but Mei is ready. She whispers to her sword, and the glow intensifies. It turns into a hot, brilliant white that seems to light up the whole world.

Mei raises her sword, and as the spirit is almost upon her, she brings it down with a desperate cry. The radiant light cuts through spirtflesh, slicing the thing in half. It's final cries fade away as it dissolves into thin air.

Mei breathes heavily, having accomplished a spell of banishment she had previously thought beyond her. It had taken all of her magical energies, and as a young man steps out from behind the trees, she sees her life flash before her eyes.

"Sorcerer," Mei acknowledges him.

"You're stronger than you look, Abjurer," the thin, pale man responds. "You seem to be spent, however, while I have several more spirits at my command." He begins to summon another being to this world.

Calling upon all of her remaining strength, Mei casts the sister spell to the one she had used earlier: the one that absorbed the fireball.

As the circle appears in the air, the sorcerer glances at it curiously, but doesn't let it interrupt his own spell casting. The impact of a potent fireball to his face effectively interrupts, though.

He collapses to the ground. Mei approaches cautiously, but relaxes when she sees that his face has been completely melted away. He is dead. Her sword being only decorative, she quickly gives up trying to cut him open with the dull edge. Mei grabs a sharp rock, and goes to work.

The accursed symbol gone from her hand, she resolves to make camp and hide as the day draws to a close.

A short while later, Mei observes the deepening night while huddled around a fire, well hidden in the crags of the mountain. As night falls completely, screams echo throughout the island. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Atlanta al Thea

The only thought that was circulating in my mind after the panel on the sand dune disappeared was; I'm not ready.

The Uryel curse was something I'd learned, of course, but never did it cross my mind that we would be pitched against it—much less so suddenly and soon. My right hand tingled slightly, and I glanced downwards, still trying to grasp the concept of what exactly was happening. A black marking made up of delicate swirls decorated the palm of my right hand, with a single U resting in the middle. The sound of the waves lapping gently against the shore of the island blended in with my jumbled thoughts, and it was then when someone screamed.

A scream, high-pitched and filled with pure terror, jerked me back to reality. I whirled around, blood rushing in my ears, as Lucia of Argi collapsed in a bloody heap on the sand. Mei, a Thea like me, stood over her grasping a swords stained with crimson blood. Lucia's death seemed to snap us magi from our shocked stupors, and instantly magi turned on each other like animals, the aura of magic strong in the crisp sea air. Briefly, I recalled from my lessons back home that if ley lines were brought closer to the surface of the Earth, spells would be easier to cast and harder to control. That must be what's happening here, I realized with a start, my brain suddenly strangely calm at the sight of Lucia's body. Mei was bending over her, desperately smothering her hand with the sticky liquid, and my stomach churned. No, no, stay focused. Don't panic. Keep your head. Make a plan.

"Okay," I mumbled under my breath, tearing my gaze away from the revolting sight of Mei harvesting Lucia's blood. "Make a plan, keep your head. You don't fail. Step one, uh..." Pivoting around sharply on my heel, my dark brown eyes connected to the hunched form of Aria Gracen, the girl from Craorag I had met on the ship. She was hunched over, her hands gripping the side of her skull, stumbling around the shore. If she continued on the way she was, she would be dead quite soon. Step one, get Aria.

Grunting, I lifted the helm of my heavy blue dress and did my best to run over to where Aria was while wearing heels. Biting back a curse of irritation, I did my best to tune out the screams of the dying and focused on Aria. Focus, focus, Atlanta! This is the first Trial, you must not fail! As I got closer to where the redhead was standing, I could briefly make out the words, "I tried, I did, I tried..."

"I sure hope you're not insane," I muttered as I reached where she was standing, grabbing pale her shaking hand and immediately leading her towards the jungle. We had only met recently, but Aria had grown on me. My heart softened at the sight of her expression, confused and panicked. Her pigeon-blue eyes held a crazed, far-away look. There was no doubt that she was in shock, or perhaps experiencing some type of fit. I'll deal with it later, I mentally noted, before whispering out loud, "Step one, completed."

Mother's words echoed in my ears, you are a Thea of Aavayoh, Atlanta born of House Cervus. You know our words. We Do Not Fail.

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I tugged Aria along the sandy beach towards the stretch of trees, struggling against the rising panic bubbling in my stomach. Lucia's body, bleeding from Mei's sword, took root deep inside my mind and grew into a weed as the seconds ticked by. Stop it, I've been trained in the academy back in Aavayoh to mentally withstand these type of life-and-death situations and keep calm. So why was I finding it so hard to do now? Don't panic, don't fail, you can do this, Atlanta. Make Mother proud. Make everyone proud.

"Atlan—Miss Atlanta?" Aria's groggy voice, hardly comprehensible, cut through my mind, slicing through my thoughts like a knife, "Wha-what?" Her grip on my hand loosened, and so I tightened it and kept pulling the poor girl along. Even in our dire situation I allowed myself to marvel at the nineteen-year-old's ability to remember to address me formally. It only added to my theory that Aria Gracen wasn't exactly right in the head.

"Come on," I shouted behind me, a spark of hope igniting in my chest as the trees appeared closer with every step, "You're in shock, we have to go find Callus!" Step Two, find allies.

The first tree was only a few feet away from me when unexpectedly, a giant something—or rather, a giant someone—sprang into my path with balls of blinding white light dancing in the palm of his hands. Gajeel, I thought, but before I could stop or do anything the photomancer murmured a spell, before viciously launching a ball of light at me. I tried to dodge the light-ball, to duck, to counter-attack with my power, but it seemed like my mind had frozen and along with it, my limbs.

I was blinded by the harshness of the light before I actually felt the pain. I hardly noticed the ball slam into my right shoulder with the force of a thousand tigers, until suddenly it was like someone had decided to switch on my nerves and senses. An explosion of fire and pain erupted in my right shoulder as I was thrown clear off my feet, right into the arms of Aria. I hardly noticed—the pain was too much, too intense. I opened my mouth to shriek, the notion of my house's words disappearing from my mind in a puff of smoke—overwhelmed by the searing, fiery pain—but the only thing that escaped my lips was a pained groan. It hurts...the world spun, blobs of colors flickering before my blurry eyes. It hurts so much...

You are a Thea of Aavayoh. Once again, my Mother's words repeated themselves in my head, but what used to give me strength now seemed to only weaken me more. Atlanta...born of...H-house Cer...vus. Even Mother's voice sounded disoriented in my brain. Everything was wrong, the pain so excruciating I could hardly think.

There was a brief rustling on the ground and Gajeel's weary face came into my line of vision. He looks winded and out of breath, yet his silver eyes still gleamed in the midday sun filled with a maddened bloodlust that guaranteed he would stop at nothing to get his cure. "Sorry, Miss Atlanta," the man sarcastically emphasized my name, spitting it out of his mouth like it was vermin. "But I have to do what I can to survive." With that, Gajeel lifted his hands once more, the air crackling with the aura of powerful sorcery.

It was then when my dark brown irises—wide and pleading for help—connected with the terror-filled ones of Aria Gracen lying on her side a few feet away from me. Help, I mentally begged at her, setting aside my pride in a desperate attempt to live. Help me, please.

I thought I saw something flicker in her pigeon-blue eyes, and the next thing I knew, Gajeel was no longer looming over me, instead wrestling on the ground with Aria clinging onto his shoulders. My shoulder burned, burned with such a pain I never knew existed, the sleeve of my dress smoking from the heat. Aria let out a startled yelp and was flung back as Gajeel viciously started assaulting her with his fists, before he—to my complete and utter horror—took a firm hold of the girl's shoulders and shoved her head under the sand.

No! I tried to get up and help, to repay my debt to Aria, but each movement—no matter how slight—was like having a sizzling fire prong stabbed into my shoulder, over and over and over again. Gritting my teeth, I managed to prop myself up on one elbow and nearly collapsed, but Aria's struggling form under Gajeel's iron grip pushed me onwards. No! No! Let her go! Narrowing my eyes and inhaling sharply, I felt my Celtic necklace—my focus—glow a brilliant blue as I prepared to draw water from the molecules in the air, a difficult spell made even more tedious by my shoulder wound. Even with the enhanced magical power on the island, I was finding it extremely difficult to cast a spell. Come on, come on!

Then, out of nowhere, a brilliant white bird—a dove, to be more precise—flew down from the heavens and began viciously attacking Gajeel with its claws.

It was all over so quickly that I had trouble understand what exactly had happened. One second, it was swooping towards Gajeel, and the next the outcast from Craorag was lying at an awkward angle on the ground, eyeballs scratched out and dangling out of their sockets. The dove was nowhere to be seen.

At once, Aria burst up from her sandy grave, coughing and choking all at once. Muddy sand dribbled from the corner of her mouth; with the grainy substance coating her from head to toe. She spat out specks of sand and twigs, gulping in great gasps of air.

"Aria!" I did my best to crawl towards her, the spell for drawing water from the air still on the tip of my tongue. My shoulder screamed out in protest at every move, but seeing the redhead wheezing only a few feet from me drove me vigorously onwards. I knew what to do. "Gods, Aria! Wait, oh heavens, here." My voice sounded raspy and unlike my own, but this time as I opened my mouth to say the spell water successfully appeared hovering in the air just above my dirtied fingertips. Gently, I manipulated the water droplets to rinse away the sand and dirt from Aria's eyes, and bit by bit her face was cleansed so that she could see fairly well. When I saw the wounds she sustained, I winced. The girl's face, once delicate and smooth like my Mother's china, was now scratched in multiple places with trickle of crimson blood trailing down her cheeks. Already, the left side of Aria's cheek—where Gajeel had slapped her—was now an ugly purple-and-blue color.

I opened my mouth to offer more words of comfort, but Aria beat me to it, "Who..." she slowly got to her feet with my help, and it was only then did I notice that her eyes were not on me, but on something behind me. Gajeel's body. "Who did that?"

I grimaced as once more a burst of pain erupted in my blistering shoulder, but somehow it seemed less painful this time. Hesitating slightly, I debated for a few long seconds whether to tell Aria the far-fetched truth or not, but decided to tell her what I saw. Or rather, what I think I saw. Could that really have been a dove? Aria's a zoomancer...maybe she called telepathically?

"A bird, Aria." I paused, before going on. "A white dove."

Aria's reaction was not what I had excepted. Her blue-grey eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and once more her irises took on that far-away look I had noticed in her before. The thought, there's something strange about this girl, had barely crossed my mind when unexpectedly her eyes rolled into her head and she slumped to the ground in a heap, passed out. I felt my own eyes widen as I hurriedly knelt beside her, biting my lower lip. Uncertainly, I sat down next to her unconscious body, the pain from my shoulder now going completely unawares. While I struggled to recompose myself as the strong, warrior magi from Aavayoh, I couldn't help but lift Aria's delicate head off the ground and unto my lap, swiping her tangled mass of ginger hair away from her face. Now, she'll be feeling more comfortable.

As we sat, huddled together, I didn't notice that my right hand was resting tenderly on top of hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mathias al Thea

ATE STRANGE PLANT AND ATTEMPTED TO HAVE SEX WITH VOLCANO

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dhruva al Thea

It would have been easy to use my power - the stars would burn anyone who came close to me, and I could sear the skin straight off. It would be harder, though, to do it during the day, and if I waited until nighttime, when the stars burned bright in the sky, I'd be dead.

No one wanted the most attractive boy on the island dead on the first night. Especially the hottest boy himself.

With a grin, I cracked my knuckles while everyone stood frozen. The Guardian, Tig, had just left the crystallized screen blank, and I was ready to fight for my life.

So, it seemed, was everyone else.

A scream came from the other side of the milling crowd, and I grinned. At least I won't throw the first punch.

With that out of the way, I had no trouble swinging a punch at the nearest boy. A glancing blow on my cheek came in return, and I growled, slamming the heel of my hand into the palm of his nose, and the cartilage breaking in his nose was satisfying. The spurt of blood that I caught in my palms - even more. The black marks faded as I scrubbed the blood into my skin, but the small amount wasn't enough to erase them completely.

Being distracted by the attempt to not die didn't help me - a strong hit to my temple had my ears ringing, and someone managed a punch to my mouth. I spat out a chunk of tooth and blood that had people digging at the ground and continued to fight, now facing an entire group of people. Luckily, the brawls were spread out, and it seemed like fists were hitting in all directions. I wasn't the only enemy.

The black markings slowly faded, but they weren't going fast enough - the droplets that I was being hit with every now and then weren't doing much, and the sun was sinking faster than I though possible. Although I didn't want to take on anyone myself, it seemed like the only option.

I turned until I found a worthy opponent, on the other side of a group crowded around a dead body - already? The girl, blonde, still pretty even in her death, was covered in blood and the hands of others raking the drying scarlet coat.

"Gajeel," I greeted the boy, paler than me, but still just as fierce. I knew I could beat him in a fight - I'd done it many times on the ship, almost resulting in Elswyth tossing me overboard. "Ready to lose again, outcast?"

"Please, Starboy." He scowled and unfolded his arms. "I'm always ready to win."

It wasn't a fair fight - he was using my lack of balance and already ringing-head against me. If he wasn't going to play fair, though, then neither was eye.

The sky was darkening quickly, and I glanced up, spotting a twinkling light far above. Gajeel took a hit to the stomach and stumbled back, and I twisted my earring, feeling the hot power rush through me, like taking a drink of warm cider on a cold day. This warmth, though, was far more powerful than a drink. A small, fiery ball formed in my hands, and I grunted, trying to hold in the power, until Gajeel approached again and I could push the gas at him, striking his side. The star dissapated and I pounced on the injured foe, scratching at his face and hands like a feral cat, drawing blood with my every move.

Once he was fully dead, I could clean my hands of both blood and the black marks - there would be no death for me today.

Still, it wasn't over yet.

Another approached me, and I managed to evade their attacks, countering by pinching the back of their upper arm, nearly tearing out the nerve that was hidden there and successfully escaping them. If I could only get out of the fray with my life, I'd be golden.

A small girl flew at me, and I snarled as I punched her, knocking her to the ground. I felt guilty when I saw how big her eyes were, and how they welled with tears as she hit the ground, but I didn't have time to feel bad. There was an opening, and I was going to take it.

I sprinted out of the battle ground, and immediately found myself in something possibly even more terrifying - the arena. Squaring my shoulders, I trudged through the foliage, and managed to think, You defeated like ten guys. You can do this.

A strange growling sound came from the underbrush, and I began to think I couldn't.