VERiTY (Fairy Tail Fanfic)

27. Two Cookies.

"You want to go alone?"

She was surprised when her younger brother had suggested it first.

Two children, dressed in a little more than rags, huddled together in an alley. Their hairs were white as the snow around them, and their fingers were red from frostbite.

"I'll only be a burden to you from here," he said.

And the sister looked back letting a little sadness escape from her eyes. But she held it back and stood up.

It's fine.

"Alright then," she said. "I'll go South."

"I'll go West," he replied.

She looked back only once more, her hand set on the sword at her own side. She resisted the urge to tell him something more loving, because this would definitely be the last time they see each other.

But she turned around and told herself to forget she ever had a brother.

Because that would be the only way they could die as humans.

-

Eir woke up with an immense headache.

Crawling out of his bed with a soft groan, he held his head and sighed. Cana was in Laxus' bed, and Bickslow was only about a third of the way inside of his own. Ren was perfectly still in his bed, but Gray was on top of him somehow.

He could feel the magic pulsing inside of him, throbbing like an exposed artery.

He squeezed the cloth around his chest and breathed in, breathed out.

Geez, where did his cookies even go? He stumbled out of the room as quietly as he could, remember to take his katana on the way.

He walked until he reached a forest, where he was vaguely sure no one would be around in this time of the day.

He draws his sword and packs it with magic.

"Enchant: Wind," he whispers.

And he keeps pouring magic into it, a hand on the hilt and another just by the blade-- the pure concentration of magic congealed, solidified, and began to boil.

It hurt to hold the hilt as it heated up, but Eir couldn't help but be impressed.

If he had used this much magic into his other blade, it would have shattered.

Then he throws the blade upward.

"Wind Bullet!"

The force of that charged bullet blew him down, and though he managed to keep a grip on the sword upward with both of his hands, he crashed backward to the ground.

Eir admired as the sky split open, clouds whirling out of the way and making way for the sun. The fog around him scattered out and gave him a wide berth.

He put his sword down, closing his eyes-- and breathed in, breathed out.

His head didn't hurt anymore.

The most logical cure for Magic Overload is, well, to just lessen the amount of magic inside of you. Get a magic that uses a lot of magic power, like a Lost Magic. Keep using magic constantly in some way, all of that bull.