Summary: A response to Thanos' idea of Louise summoning the entirety of Fuyuki city through her summoning spell, from Beast Lair. Not the way he intended it, though.;)

DISCLAIMER: Don't own FoZ, don't own TYPE-MOON and affiliated works, do own this idea.

Over the jeers and pity of her classmates, Louise Valliere felt something happen.

Much like all her spells, she'd executed the Springtime Familiar Summoning Ritual perfectly. The incantation had been painstakingly crafted by her to best entice any familiar she may (or may not, whispered a treacherous part of her mind) have, and the ritual circle had been memorized and re-memorized, all for this day.

This day, where she'd prove that she was worthy of holding the Valliere name. That she wasn't a Zero.

When she'd first chanted the spell, she'd been buoyant, full of the belief (forced though it may be) that this time she'd succeed. Thatthistime, she wouldn't shame her family.

That this time, that crying child within her, that deep, aching part of her that yearned for acknowledgement, would be satisfied.

But ... but this time ...

Nothing had happened.


In that moment, Louise would have given anything to just have her magic fail as it always did. For there to be a grand explosion, proclaiming for all to see - that though she was a failure, she was still a mage.

Anything but this. Anything but this aching silence, this nothingness that showed her to be no mage, no noble, but -

A commoner.

She'd choked then, desperately holding back the sob that wracked her body even now. The jeers of her classmates had intermingled with different sounds, coaxing, consoling ...

Pity. Had the scion of the House of Valliere sunk that low, that she was now to be pitied?

In that moment, something had taken over Louise - a dreadful determination, a puerile, plaintive plea for providence - and she'd grit her teeth and launched anew into her incantation.

And again.

And again.

And then, face blurred by tears, something changed.

Louise Valliere felt something happen. Felt a resonance within her soul, a thrum that shocked her whole body to life.

She chanted again, her voice low and loud, echoing across the courtyard. The thrum and beat grew louder, choking out all the sounds around her, but she didn't care - manic happiness and hope, once forlorn, drove her on, pushed her the way nothing else could. Even as the beat echoing through her body grew painful, even as the resonance in her soul left her in agony, her manic, inhuman joy embellished her words with a cadence that seemed otherworldly.

Something appeared. There was no fanfare preceding it's appearance, no pop and puff - just a sudden, alarming presence that came into being the way a bolt of lightning would.

The Academy of Magic in Tristain, a center of learning and excellence for nobles the world over. A magnificent structure, crafted through dreams and toil, and protected by wards that could have rebuffed armies ... was no more.

In it's place was a cold, implacable expanse of concrete. Of metal and rock, angles and edges - a massive array of structures and nature that dwarfed even the academy.

It was a city, called from another world. A world with it's own wonders, it's own troubles and horrors - and it had been called forth by a dimunitive pink mage that everyone called a Zero.

The mage herself had no opinion of this, of course. For you see, the mage was a bit disconnected - in body, that is.

A wall, tall and strong and made of concrete, occupied the place where the pink mage had cast her desperate, passionate spell. The two halves of her body lay on opposite sides of the wall, bisected as they had been in it's appearance.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, little Louise Valliere had felt nothing of it's appearance. For she had faded away, to lands distant and immaterial, the moment her spell had ended. A smile on her face and a song in her heart at the first, true success of her magic, littleLouise had scarcely noticed as she passed the point of no return, as she experienced a state well past willpower exhaustion - a rather fatal state of being.

Little Louise Valliere would know none of this, but would know only of her success, and her first (and only) triumph. A mercy, perhaps - that in the last moments of her life, the crying child deep in her heart, would be silenced ... and smiling.

A/N: Can I haz review nao?