Aelius broke through the treeline hard enough that branches snapped and scattered behind him, the forest giving way to a small clearing just in time for him to see it happen. A visible wave rolled outward from the man standing at the center, thick, like the air itself had curdled and been pushed outward. It washed across the ground, across the trees, across everything in its path, and Aelius felt it before it even reached him, that same suffocating, clinging pressure of death magic, but this one was purer than Aelius's own.
A bird caught the edge of it mid-flight. It didn't even have time to react. One moment it was there, wings beating, and the next it simply dropped, lifeless, hitting the ground with a dull thud that sounded far too loud in the sudden stillness.
Aelius didn't hesitate. He surged forward, crossing the distance in a blur just as the wave reached Natsu. His hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him back, instinct overriding thought, even though he already knew he was too late. The magic had already hit.
It passed through him next. For Aelius, it felt like being dragged through something thick and suffocating, like being forced through wax or through a wall of gelatin. It clung to him, pressed against his skin, his lungs, his core, but it didn't kill him. It couldn't; death magic didn't affect those with similar abilities that already stood in the same domain. It recognized him, in a twisted way, and moved past.
But Natsu. Aelius's eyes snapped to him immediately. He was still standing. Not just standing, but looking down at himself in confusion, one hand brushing over the blackened edge of his scarf where the wave had moved through it. The fabric had turned dark, like it had been soaked in ink, but the man himself was… fine.
Aelius stared for half a second, mind racing. That didn't make sense. It should have done something. Even if it didn't kill him outright, it should have affected him more than that.
And yet Natsu just looked confused. More confused, actually, at the fact that Aelius was gripping him. "…you're grabbing me," he said, like that was the strangest part of the situation.
Aelius let go immediately, shoving him back a step without comment, attention already shifting downward. Elfman and Evergreen were on the ground behind where Natsu had been standing, both flat on their stomachs. Natsu must have shoved them down before the wave hit, forcing them beneath it, letting it pass over instead of through. Aelius could still feel the residue of it lingering in the air, but neither of them showed the signs the bird had. They were shaken, breathing hard, but alive.
Good. That meant they weren't dealing with something that blanketed everything indiscriminately. There were ways to avoid it.
"Natsu," Aelius said, voice sharp, already shifting his stance as he placed himself between the others and the man in the clearing. "Get these two out of here. If you find anyone else on your way back to camp, you bring them with you." There was no hesitation in his tone, no room for argument.
Which was exactly why Natsu immediately ignored it. "No way," he shot back, stepping forward instead of back, flames flickering faintly along his arms despite the tension in the air. His eyes were locked on the figure ahead of them. "Whoever that is nearly killed them. I'm not running."
Aelius's jaw tightened. "This isn't a suggestion," he said, not looking at him. "You don't know what you're dealing with."
"Neither do you," Natsu snapped.
That made Aelius pause. For just a fraction of a second. Because Natsu wasn't wrong, and that annoyed him, if the moron was right, that meant things were as bad as bad could get.
Yes, Aelius didn't understand what he was dealing with; he could feel the magic, yes, could recognize its nature, but this… this wasn't something he had encountered before. It wasn't just death magic. It was something layered on top of it, something deeper that made his own feel almost… shallow in comparison.
. Aelius exhaled slowly through his nose, then finally glanced sideways at Natsu. "…fine," he said.
Natsu blinked. "…what?"
"I said fine," Aelius repeated, tone flat but edged now, sharper than before. "Stay." There was a beat of silence. Then he added. "I'm not entirely sure how strong he is."
That was all it took. Natsu's expression shifted, not to fear, Aelius didn't know if the slayer knew the meaning of the word, but to something more focused. The kind of look he got when he realized a fight actually mattered.
Aelius turned his attention forward again. The man in the clearing hadn't moved. Not since he arrived. He stood there, head slightly lowered, shoulders tense but not in a way that suggested aggression. His magic still bled out around him in suffocating waves, but it didn't seem like it was intentional.
Aelius's eyes narrowed slightly. "…he's not attacking," he muttered to Natsu, and then he noticed something else: the man's face, or more specifically, his eyes. They weren't filled with anger, or malice, or even focused. They were locked onto Natsu. And there was something wet tracking down his cheeks; he was crying.
"You can't control… this. Can you?" Aelius didn't rush the words. They came slower than usual, measured, cautious in a way beyond his usual self. He took a step forward, just enough to test the air between them, to feel the way that magic shifted, the way it pressed back. It was unstable. Not wild in the sense of lashing out, but uncontrolled, like something too large for the space it was trapped in, leaking out in pulses the man clearly wasn't directing.
The familiarity hit him again, something close enough to make his instincts hesitate instead of strike.
The man's shoulders trembled slightly, his head dipping just a fraction as another weak pulse of that deathly aura bled outward, weaker than before but still heavy enough to make the ground feel wrong underfoot.
"No…" he said quietly. His voice sounded… tired. "I can't."
Aelius's eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion, but in focus, watching every small movement, every fluctuation in the magic around him. If the man lost control again, even for a second, the next wave might not be something they could just endure or avoid.
Then the man lifted his head. And looked past Aelius. Straight at Natsu. "…Natsu…" The name left his mouth like something fragile, something that might break if he said it too loudly. "Do you remember me?"
Behind Aelius, Natsu didn't respond immediately. Aelius glanced back, just slightly, enough to catch the expression on his face. Confusion, Natsu frowned, eyes narrowing as he looked at the man, searching his face like he was trying to pull something out of his memory that wasn't quite there. "…should I?" he asked finally.
The man flinched in response; it was small and barely noticeable. But Aelius saw it. The magic around him stuttered with it, just… faltering, as something inside him had cracked a little further. "I…" the man started, then stopped.
His hands clenched at his sides, fingers digging into his palms hard enough that Aelius could see the tension from where he stood. Another pulse of that suffocating energy tried to push outward, but it collapsed in on itself before it could spread far, like he was fighting it without knowing how.
Aelius shifted his stance slightly, angling himself just enough to keep both the man and Natsu in view. "You know him," he said, voice low, more statement than question.
The man let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a laugh, though there was nothing amused about it. "…I did." Aelius's gaze sharpened at the past tense, but he didn't speak.
Behind him, Natsu took a step forward despite everything, curiosity outweighing caution like it always did. "Hey," he called, squinting slightly. "Who are you supposed to be?"
Aelius's head snapped slightly toward him. "Don't," he said under his breath.
But it was already too late. The man's eyes lit up, not with power, not with hostility, but with something far worse. Hope, fragile, desperate, and cracking at the edges hope. "You really don't…" he murmured, almost to himself. His shoulders shook once, and more tears slipped free despite the faint, strained smile that tried to form. "…yeah. That makes sense."
The magic around him shifted again, unstable. Like, his emotions were directly feeding into it without any kind of filter.
Aelius's own magic stirred in response, reacting, like two similar forces brushing against each other in ways that didn't quite align. "…this is bad," he muttered quietly.
Because this wasn't just power. This was someone breaking. And unlike glass, when death magic breaks, you can't exactly sweep it up.
Aelius stepped forward again, placing himself more firmly between the man and the others, his voice sharper now, more grounded. "Focus," he said. "If you can't control it, then stop letting it build. Breathe. Suppress it. Force it down."
The man's eyes flicked to him briefly. "…I'm trying." Another pulse rippled outward as the man clenched his head in pain.
Aelius exhaled slowly, tension coiling tighter in his chest. "Natsu," he said after a moment, voice low but firm, not looking away from the man in front of them, "trust me. Go back. This isn't about fighting anymore."
He could feel it too clearly now. This wasn't a battle. Not yet. Maybe not at all. This was something breaking in front of them, something unstable enough that throwing punches at it would just make everything collapse faster.
"I need you to find the others," Aelius continued, tone tightening slightly when Natsu didn't immediately move. "Bring them back to camp. Now."
There was a pause behind him. Aelius didn't turn, but he could practically hear the stubborn refusal building. "I said no," Natsu answered, more solid this time, "I'm not leaving you here with this guy when he's doing… whatever the hell this is."
Another pulse rolled out from the man, weaker, but enough to make the leaves shudder and the air ripple like heat off stone. It brushed past them, and Aelius felt that same suffocating drag against his skin, his magic reacting on instinct, pushing back just enough to keep it from sinking in deeper.
The man staggered slightly when it happened, like even that small release cost him something. "I'm… not…" he started, voice cracking, "trying to—"
"I know," Aelius cut him off immediately, sharper than before, but not directed at him, more like he was cutting the thought itself before it spiraled. His eyes stayed locked forward, watching every shift, every twitch. "That's the problem."
Behind him, Natsu stepped closer anyway. Aelius's jaw tightened. "You don't get it," he said, quieter now, but more intense, like he was forcing the words to land. "If he loses control again, even a little more than that last wave, Elfman and Evergreen don't get lucky a second time. Neither do you."
"I didn't die the first time," Natsu shot back.
"That doesn't mean you won't have the next," Aelius replied instantly. "You don't know why you're still standing. I don't know why you're still standing." That last part came out lower, more honest than he probably intended. "And I don't gamble on things I don't understand."
That got a moment of silence. Aelius took another step forward, putting more distance between Natsu and the man, drawing the focus back onto himself deliberately. "You want to help?" he added without looking back. "Then listen for once. Find the others, so they don't run into this. "
Another pulse flickered, barely there this time, like a heartbeat trying to steady itself.
The man's eyes were still locked on Natsu. "I…" he tried again, voice thinner now, like even speaking was taking effort. "I don't want to hurt anyone…"
Aelius honestly believed that. Which made everything worse. "Then stop leaking it," Aelius said, tone flattening again, "You're letting it build and bleed at the same time. Pick one. Either release it properly or suppress it completely. This halfway state is what's killing things."
"That's not how it works", the man admitted, almost immediately, frustration and something close to panic slipping into his voice. His hands trembled again, and for a second the magic around him surged, just slightly, enough to make the ground creak under the pressure.
"…figures," Aelius muttered.
Behind him, He just stayed there.
Aelius closed his eyes for half a second, exhaling again, slower this time, then opened them.
"Natsu, I'm ordering you, leave now, just find the others and make sure they get back to camp. Now." Aelius didn't raise his voice, but something in it shifted. It wasn't just authority anymore. There was tension under it now, something tight and coiled, like he was forcing himself to stay steady while something in the back of his mind kept pushing forward, whispering that this was wrong, that this was exactly the kind of moment that always spiraled out of control for him.
He had just said it, not long ago. Every time he got close to something stable, something normal, something that almost looked like it might last, something like this happened. It was beginning to look like a pattern.
And standing in front of him now felt like the center of it. Natsu didn't argue this time. For once, he actually heard it. Not just the words, but the tone behind them. He glanced at Aelius, then at the man in the clearing, then back again. His fists tightened slightly, flames threatening to spark, but he forced them down. There was a moment of hesitation, the kind that never lasted long with him, and then he clicked his tongue in annoyance. "…fine," he muttered.
He turned sharply, already moving toward Elfman and Evergreen, hauling them up with more care than his usual roughness would suggest. Evergreen barely managed to steady herself, her body still trembling from what had nearly hit them, while Elfman shook his head once like he was trying to clear it.
"Move," Natsu said, already dragging them back toward the trees. "We're going." He didn't look back. Didn't say anything else. But the tension in his shoulders made it clear he wasn't leaving because he wanted to.
Aelius waited until the sound of them pushing through the forest faded, until he could no longer feel Natsu's presence lingering at the edge of the clearing.
Then he stepped forward. Closing some of the distance between himself and the man at the center. The magic grew heavier with every step. It pressed against him, clung to his skin, slid along his senses in a way that made his own magic stir in response.
The man didn't react; his eyes had stayed locked on where Natsu had been.
Aelius stopped a few paces away. "…your Zeref. Aren't you?" he asked finally. It wasn't really a question, more like a confirmation spoken out loud. The name sat heavy in the air between them. Aelius took another step forward, slower now, his gaze narrowing as pieces clicked into place.
"You met my grandfather," he continued, voice steady despite the pressure building in his chest. "Even made a book about it." Recognition. That was the feeling. Not familiarity from meeting, but from something indirect, like his magic signature.
"That's why you feel familiar," he said quietly. "Your magic is what you used to make the book." His hand shifted, reaching into his requip space without breaking eye contact. A moment later, the book of Zeref appeared in his grasp. He lifted it slightly, holding it up between them. "A Book of Zeref."
The air seemed to grow even heavier at the name. The man's eyes flickered, just barely, and for the first time since Aelius had arrived, there was a reaction. Something that looked dangerously close to regret.
Aelius watched him carefully, every sense stretched thin, cataloging every shift, every breath, every fluctuation in the magic bleeding off him. "You're not here to attack," Aelius said slowly, more to himself than anything else. "If you were, they'd already be dead. I'd be dead…so why are you here?" he asked.
Aelius exhaled slowly, forcing his own magic to stay contained despite how badly it wanted to respond. "…right," he muttered under his breath. "Of course it's you." Because if there was one person in the world whose existence alone could twist everything around him into something worse… It would be this one.
"So, answer me," Aelius said, voice lower now, steadier in a way that came from forcing control over something that very much did not want to be controlled. "Why is the most powerful mage in existence here… and why do you seem… tame, for someone who created the worst demons the world's ever known?"
For a few seconds, nothing happened. The man didn't move, and the magic around him continued to seep outward in uneven pulses, like something leaking from cracks that shouldn't exist, brushing against the ground, the trees, the air itself in slow, creeping waves. It wasn't directed at Aelius, not truly, but it didn't need to be. Just standing this close to it made every instinct in his body stay on edge.
Then, finally, the man's lips parted. "…most powerful," he repeated quietly. His voice didn't match the title. It sounded tired. "…I suppose that's what they call me," he went on, almost to himself, like the words didn't sit right in his mouth.
His eyes shifted then, slowly dragging away from where Natsu had been standing, until they settled on Aelius properly for the first time. There was recognition there. Not of Aelius as a person. But of what he was, of what he represented. A faint, almost imperceptible flinch followed, like something about that realization hurt more than it should have.
"…you smell like him," the man said quietly.
Aelius didn't react outwardly, but something in his chest tightened again. "My grandfather," he replied flatly.
Zeref nodded. "…yes." Silence settled again, thicker than before. "I didn't come here to hurt anyone," the man said eventually, and there was no conviction in it, no strength, just a statement that sounded like it had already been proven wrong the moment he arrived. His gaze flicked, briefly, toward the edge of the clearing, where the bird had fallen. "…but it doesn't matter much what I intend, does it?"
The magic around him pulsed again, sharper this time, and Aelius felt it scrape across his senses yet again. "You asked why I seem tame," the man continued, and this time there was something else in his voice. Not quite bitterness. Not quite humor. But something hollow between the two. "It's because I'm not here as… that version of myself."
Aelius's eyes narrowed slightly. "That version," he repeated.
The man's expression shifted, just barely. "…the one you read about," he said. "The one who made those books. The one that created demons."
That… wasn't the answer Aelius had expected. At all. "So, since you don't seem like you intend to murder me," Aelius said, tone dry but measured, deliberately shifting the conversation somewhere safer, buying time for the others to return, "let me ask you something. What was the purpose of this… series of books?"
He lifted the writhing book just a fraction, enough to make the point without being dramatic about it. His eyes never left the man in front of him, watching for any shift, any reaction. He didn't trust him, not really. But he understood one thing very clearly. If this turned into a fight, he would lose. Not a drawn-out battle of attrition. Not a close call like with Nehzhar. He would die. Simple as that.
So he stalled. And if he learned something in the process, even better. "You called it chaos," Aelius continued, voice quieter now, more probing. "You said there were four parts to whatever you were making."
That did it. Zeref's reaction was immediate. "Don't," the man said, pleading. "Don't ask about that, please." Aelius blinked once, caught off guard by the tone more than the words themselves.
Zeref lowered his head slightly, one hand coming up to press against his face like he was trying to physically hold something back. "I was angry," he said, voice strained now, uneven. "I was… stupid." The magic around him pulsed again, more violently this time, reacting to the spike in emotion. The ground beneath his feet darkened slightly, the grass wilting at the edges where that leaking power brushed against it. "The things in those books…" he continued, slower now, like every word had to be forced out, "they aren't meant to exist."
"The beast that comes from them," Zeref went on, his voice dropping further, almost to a whisper, "it will doom more than just our existence."
Aelius's eyes narrowed slightly. "Explain," he said.
Zeref shook his head immediately. "No," he said, sharper this time, but still not aggressive. Just desperate. "You don't understand. You don't want to understand."
"I do," Aelius replied flatly. "Try me."
For a moment, it looked like Zeref might refuse outright. Then something shifted in him. A flicker of resignation. "…if you are truly his grandson," Zeref said slowly, lifting his gaze again, locking eyes with Aelius in a way that felt heavier than before, "then you already know pieces of it."
Aelius didn't react outwardly, but his focus sharpened. "The hound," Zeref said. Aelius's grip tightened slightly. "The crow." A faint ringing started in his ears again, not from his magic this time. "And the snake."
"That abomination." Zeref said shakily," Are all four of those?" Zeref exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging just a fraction. "I thought if I could break things down far enough," he continued, "if I could understand life, death, and everything in between… I could fix it."
There it was. Aelius caught it instantly and pushed back. "…fix what?" he pressed.
Zeref's expression twisted, just slightly. "…everything," he said. The word hung there, heavy and hollow. Chaos is not a name," he said quietly. "It's a description." Aelius didn't like the way he said that.
"It's what happens," Zeref continued, "when you stop separating things that should never touch. Life and death. Creation and destruction. Order and… everything else."
His hand tightened slightly against his arm, like he was grounding himself. "The hound was instinct," he said. "The crow was aware. The snake was an adaptation. The slug was the body."
Aelius felt something cold settle in his chest. "And chaos?" he asked.
Zeref looked at him. For a long moment, he didn't answer. "…everything at once." Silence swallowed the clearing afterward.
Aelius stared at him, mind turning over the implications, the pieces fitting together in ways he really didn't like. "…and you made it," he said flatly.
Zeref flinched. "Started it," he corrected quietly. "I never finished."
"That's not comforting."
"It shouldn't be."
Then Aelius tilted his head slightly. "…so where is it?" he asked.
Zeref's gaze dropped. "…I don't know."
That made Aelius's eyes narrow again. "You expect me to believe that."
"I'm not asking you to believe anything," Zeref replied, a faint edge creeping into his voice for the first time. Not anger. Just… frustration. "I lost control of it. Of all of it."
The magic around him pulsed again, harsher this time, and Aelius felt it scrape across his senses like something breaking further.
"That's why I said not to ask," Zeref added more quietly. "Because there's no answer that makes this better."
Aelius was quiet for a moment. Then he let out a slow breath. "…right," he muttered. Because, of course, that's how it went. Nothing simple. Nothing contained. Just another problem layered on top of everything else, something bigger, older, and far more dangerous than it had any right to be. His eyes flicked briefly to the book in his hand, then back to Zeref. "…you really are a walking disaster," he said.
Zeref didn't argue. He just stood there, silent, the magic still leaking from him in uneven pulses, tears still faintly tracking down his face. And somehow, that made it worse than if he had just been a monster.
"So you created the worst thing ever," Aelius said slowly, each word measured, like he was laying them out one at a time just to make sure he wasn't misunderstanding something this ridiculous, this catastrophic. "Split it into four books. Each is tied to a piece of something you call true chaos. And it's not even hard to find them, considering how I got this one." He lifted the book slightly, just enough to punctuate the point before letting it lower again. His eyes didn't leave Zeref. "And if all four are gathered, released, completed, whatever the end condition is…" his voice flattened, "existence ends."
"…yes," Zeref said.
Aelius let out a breath through his nose, slow and controlled, but there was a tightness in it now that hadn't been there before. His grip on the book shifted slightly, fingers pressing harder into the worn cover before he forced them to relax. "…right," he muttered under his breath. For a moment, he didn't say anything else. Because there wasn't really a good response to that. No sarcasm that fit. No easy dismissal. Just a problem so far beyond the normal scale that it looped back around into something almost absurd.
"And you just… lost track of them," he said, tone edged now, not raised, but carrying something heavier. "That's the explanation. You made something that can end everything, split it into pieces, and then just… misplaced it."
Zeref didn't flinch this time. "…I didn't misplace it," he said quietly. "I tried to get rid of it."
Aelius's eyes narrowed slightly. "By scattering it," he said.
"By separating it," Zeref corrected. "By making sure no one person could ever complete it."
"That clearly worked," Aelius replied flatly, giving the book a small, pointed tilt.
Zeref's gaze flicked to it again, and for a brief moment, something like regret crossed his expression more clearly than before. "…no," he admitted.
Silence stretched between them again, thicker now, weighed down by what had just been said. Aelius's mind didn't stop moving, though. "You said they're tied to… pieces," he said after a moment, voice quieter again but focused. "The hound. The crow. The snake. And this, the slug," he lifted the book slightly again, "this is one of them."
Zeref nodded faintly. "…yes."
"And the others are out there," Aelius continued. "Somewhere. Not sealed well enough. Not hidden well enough. Just… out there waiting to be found."
Another nod. "…yes."
Aelius let out a short, humorless breath. "Painfully easy, apparently," he said.
Zeref didn't respond, which was answer enough.
Aelius stared at him for a long second, then shook his head slightly. "…you didn't just create a problem," he said. "You created a countdown."
Zeref's expression tightened faintly at that. "I know."
"Do you?" Aelius shot back, sharper now. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you made something that guarantees someone, eventually, will put it together. Maybe not today. Maybe not in a year. But eventually."
The magic in the air shifted again, reacting to the rising tension in Aelius's voice this time, not just Zeref's emotions. "People find things," Aelius continued, quieter but more cutting. "That's what they do. They dig. They search. They collect. You didn't make this impossible. You made it inevitable."
Zeref closed his eyes briefly, as he had already thought that exact thing a thousand times before. "…yes," he said again, softer this time.
Aelius went still. Then he laughed, lacking any real humor. "Of course you did," he said. Because why wouldn't it be like this? Why wouldn't the worst possible outcome be baked directly into the problem from the start?
He looked down at the book in his hand again, really looked at it this time, not as an object, not as something he had taken or studied, but as what it actually represented. A piece of something that could end everything. Sitting casually in his grasp. "…and I have one of them," he muttered.
He was going to speak again, until he felt something. not the dark presence that had been demanding his attention just seconds ago, but something far more familiar, far more precise. His own magic. It spread across the island like a distant echo, finally snapping into clarity, a thread he had woven himself, one he could never mistake. The realization hit fast and hard. The ring he had given to Levy. She had activated it. Not on purpose, either, the signal was too sharp, too wild, the daemon inside responding exactly as it was designed to when things went wrong. And things had gone very wrong.
He didn't look at the mage in front of him anymore. Didn't acknowledge them, didn't give them the satisfaction of even existing in that moment. His focus narrowed inward, following that thread, pushing through the connection as the daemon relayed what it could, fractured glimpses of magic signatures bleeding through the link. Not Fairy Tail. None of them. That alone would have been enough to set him on edge, but it didn't stop there. The weight of them, the density, the way they pressed against the space around Levy's position, told him more than any clear image could. These weren't small threats, not the kind that could be brushed aside or stalled. Each one carried enough presence to stand against the upper tiers of the guild, not quite S-class, but close enough that the gap didn't matter when stacked together. And Levy… she wasn't built for that. Not alone. Not against that kind of pressure closing in from multiple sides.
Something in his chest tightened, sharp and dangerous, but it didn't show on his face. It never did. His grip shifted slightly at his side, fingers curling just enough to betray the tension before stilling again. "Stay here," Aelius said instantly, voice low, controlled, like he was forcing it to remain steady through sheer will alone. Then he stopped, the thought already correcting itself before it fully left him, and he shook his head once. "Actually, no. Leave this island."
He turned as he spoke, not even checking if the one behind him agreed, because it wasn't a suggestion. It wasn't even a command meant to be followed out of respect. It was the kind of statement that existed purely because he didn't have time to argue. His attention was already elsewhere, already moving, already calculating distances, timing, how fast he could get there, and what he would have to burn to make it happen faster.
"Whatever your excuses are," he continued, the words coming out quieter now, edged with something that didn't quite break through but sat just beneath the surface, "I think others are coming."
He paused there, just for a fraction of a second, like the rest of the sentence was trying to force its way out and he was physically holding it back. His jaw tightened, the muscles along his neck shifting as he swallowed it down before it could fully form. "If I lose anyone else…"
The words cut off, not trailing, not fading, just stopping outright like they had hit something solid and couldn't pass through. He didn't finish it; he refused to. Saying it out loud would make it too real, give it weight it didn't need, turn it into something more than a possibility. And he refused to do that, refused to stand there and admit even the chance of it in front of someone else.
For just a moment, he glanced back over his shoulder, not at the mage as a threat, but as an obstacle he didn't have time for. There was no anger there, no hesitation either. Just a clear, quiet certainty.
"I refuse to let anyone else I love die, greatest mage or not."