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When they arrive at the Oracion Seis guildhall they are all big eyes, dirty faces, and too thin frames. Their sharp corners are ribs and spines pressing against the skin. There is food for them to eat and beds to sleep in and even hot showers. They are full of more anger and sadness than their little frames should hold. Their broken pieces come out in tears and screams.
They whisper their dreams and hopes, and in return, Brain offers them power. They learn that there can be power in their spindly limbs and magic in their hearts. They are small, but their powers can shake the building, and Brain smiles. Their anger has an outlet, and it burns, and it burns.
They grow taller, and their eyes grow harder. Their anger is poison in their lungs, choking them, and acid in their blood, eating away at them. Their sorrow is sharp as a scythe and distorts reality into a nightmare. They cannot outrun the fear, and there are no wings strong enough to escape grief. Alone, they see no way out, but Brain is there, and he promises them both relief.
There is freedom in power, they are told. And power is something they have in spades.
But the gifts they have been given are not free.
Midnight learns this first. His broken pieces are still nightmares, but now they are sharp enough to wield. It is not hard when he’s faced with a cultist from the tower on his knees and begging, to unleash his power. His magic slices through bone and skin as easily as air. And Midnight smiles because for once the pain is not his, because it is someone else’s turn to hurt, because maybe one day their pain will cancel out his. There is a hand on his shoulder and praise in his ear; he has a father who believes in him.
They are gangly and awkward with youth, but their faces are hard as soldiers’. Someone from the magic council finds them. Their anger is a weapon now; something the world will learn to fear. The woman dies shaking with pain as poison stops her heart and chokes her breathing. They will not take freedom for granted, not when people like this want to take it away from them. Before Cobra can doubt, before his stomach can turn as the woman screams, Brain is there to commend him.
One step on the path becomes another. A guild leader who threatens their power must be removed. A pair of spies from Grimoire Heart need to be dispatched. Their power is their safety net. Their anger is a weapon. They are not helpless victims any more; they have claws and teeth, and they are no longer afraid.
There is a light guild, Midnight doesn’t even know the name, that is threatening the guilds under their protection. Cobra and Midnight go together. It’s easy, too easy. The guild master is a woman who smiles at them and asks why they came. She sees two lost teens with haunted eyes. She cannot see that their broken pieces are sharp enough to cut, to maim, and even to kill, and that will be her downfall. She dies so quickly that her smile never fades. But there is a whole guild to take apart. They can do it; together they have the strength. They fight now because they have to because if they don’t they will be killed or dragged off in chains. And they will never be chained again.
When the adrenaline fades, they are left in the carnage. The guild is painted in red and there’s a splatter of blood across Midnight’s nose. It’s the same color as his eyes. The sounds of the dying echo in Cobra’s ears. There is a boy, younger even than them, lying broken on the floor. And Brain is not here to pick up the pieces as the two demons come crashing down. When Midnight vomits, Cobra rubs his back, and then Midnight holds his friend as he shakes and tears burn his eyes.
“Are…” Cobra wants to ask if they are monsters.
“We had to do it,” there is no doubt in Midnight’s response.
Together, they pick up their broken pieces, and they go back to the guild. They do not speak of it; they try not even to think of it. It was a moment of weakness.
The path they walk is a dark one. But it is the only path in front of them. Behind them is the Tower of Heaven and before them is freedom. There is nowhere to step off the path. Brain will guide them down the path, and they will follow because if they stumble there are enemies waiting. Light Guilds will hunt them down. The Magic Council will lock them away. They cannot allow that. They will not go back to being prisoners, to being broken and helpless.
Freedom is their goal; they will wade knee-deep in blood and death to get there.
And they do.
Cobra does not count the people he’s killed. He doesn’t think any of the Oracion Seis do. The numbers have weight, and that weight might become too much to carry.
Sometimes Cobra can’t get the burbling sound of someone breathing through blood out of his head. Sometimes it’s the sound of a heart stopping. Other times it’s the sounds of someone begging for their life.
When Cobra finds Midnight standing over the body of a child, there is something broken in his garnet gaze. Cobra doesn’t look at the girl’s face, he just grabs his friend and turns him away.
“When did we become the monsters?” Midnight asks and his voice is hoarse.
“Sometimes,” Cobra says, “you have to be a monster in order to survive.”