📍 Crocus — Domus Flau Arena & Rooftops
📅 July X791
The final burst of magic faded into the night air, and Domus Flau shook with the weight of hard‑earned triumph. From the packed stands to the fringe of riotous celebration, guild banners whipped in the wind—each flick of color echoing the pride of victory.
Fairy Tail had risen. What once felt like tenuous survival now coursed with radiant strength. They weren't merely survivors anymore—they were shining.
In the Fairy Tail booth, joy was unrestrained.
Makarov's lantern‑bright laugh shook his handheld kerchief, tears of laughter glinting in his eyes.
"That's it! That's the guild I built!"
Levy leapt in surprise, snatching Jet and Droy into a group hug so fierce they tumbled off the bench. Elfman slammed his fist on the railing, voice booming.
"A real man's fight that was!"
Lisanna brushed back tears of joy, and Mirajane clutched her hands to her chest, radiating a quiet, star‑bright pride. Mavis floated aloft, ghostlike yet vivid, whispering as though to the air itself,
"They are stronger because of each other. Their echoes make them shine."
Meanwhile, high above the revelry, under a hush of moonlight, Teresa stood on an overlook above the arena. Her white cloak rippled, pale as night's first snow. She watched—not the force of sound below, but its quiet resonance.
The laughter below vibrated in her chest. Light and wild, hopeful and vulnerable—something old and hazy stirred inside, as though her blade remembered gentleness.
She didn't smile. She didn't flinch. But she also didn't look away.
Then a flicker in the magic currents caught her attention—eastward, distant but wrong.
She closed her eyes, breathing into the trembling thread of power. It wasn't a crack… so much as a sigh in time.
"Distortion," she murmured. "A door where no doorway should be."
It carved through her focus—memory and instinct colliding. Battlefields long past: camps frozen in dusk, steel ringing hollow, ground scorched silent by victories unclaimed. And then: Romeo's purple fire glowing beneath moonlight; Natsu's roar like waking thunder; Gajeel's iron resolve; the bonds of friends standing together despite everything.
The currents twisted into splintered pathways.
Teresa opened her eyes. The city spread below unchanged—yet she had changed. She had sensed a fracture.
Across rooftops, another figure stirred.
Jellal Fernandes—masked as Mystogan—stood with Ultear and Meredy on a distant ledge. His eyes—world‑worn and weight‑heavy—saw the same shudder Teresa had felt.
"That magic," Ultear whispered, pressing a hand to her chest. "It's a portal where there shouldn't be one."
Meredy echoed softly, "The Eclipse Gate. If it opens… time bleeds."
Jellal nodded, jaw set. "If that door swings wide, time itself could collapse. Crocus may not survive that storm."
He glanced across the distance—and met Teresa's gaze.
No surprise in the meeting. Just two warriors shaped by regret, scars, and silent wars, under the same night sky.
Time froze for a breath between them as recognition passed. She nodded once—brief, respectful. He inclined his head in return. Then she turned, ghostlike, dissolving into the rooftop shadows.
Below, the crowds began to thin. The magic screens dimmed. Guild members drifted out of the stands—huddled, joyous, adrenaline‑spent. Lanterns lit up streets threaded with laughter and chants.
Romeo walked alongside Macao, his steps lighter now.
"She was watching," he said quietly, glancing upward toward where Teresa had been.
Macao offered a gentle, knowing smile.
"She always is. Even when she acts as though she doesn't see."
Romeo's hand went to the hilt of his sword.
"One day… I'll reach her. I'll prove echoes don't chain us—they strengthen us."
Elsewhere, the night city closed around a darker mood.
Sabertooth's enforcers moved in silent step along a stone‑paved street. Sting's jaw tightened with frustration.
"Fairy Tail… they've grown too strong. I want to crush them with my own hands—no tricks, no shadows."
Rogue's voice was low, thoughtful.
"Strength is more than raw power."
Sting paused, scowling. Rogue didn't elaborate. He just stared forward, eyes hidden beneath fringe.
"Never mind," he muttered. And they continued.
Watching from a balcony above, Minerva Orland turned away from the night breeze. Her lips curved slightly—but warmth didn't follow.
"They claim bonds make them strong," she whispered. "We'll see how easily they fracture."
She stepped back into the shadow—silent, cold, resolute.
Back at Fairy Tail's lodge, the revelry was still underway.
Lucy raised a toast to "survival and silly decisions." Gray catapulted water at Natsu—who retaliated with a flame sneeze that singed the tablecloth—and Happy squealed in protest. Levy took diligent notes, while Mirajane snapped snapshots of the chaos, laughs bubbling free.
Not peace. But it was home.
Outside, beneath the courtyard's gentle glow, Teresa lingered alone. The laughter washed into her—a current she couldn't dismiss. She stood with her back to the noise, but she heard every cheerful echo in the air.
Her hand hovered near her chest, resting there as if to bracket a silent thought.
"A blade… cannot echo," she whispered. But the hand didn't fall.
Above the night, the castle silhouette loomed—ancient stones stirring with hidden power. The Eclipse Gate's shadow began to flicker, as strands in time loosened at the seams. Dragonfist—long‑dead echoes—threatened to bleed through.
Teresa looked up at the moon, eyes still silver but not cold. Something soft glimmered at the corners.
"Chains… echoes… or wings," she murmured, light on a breeze. "I will see who they truly are."
Her cloak rippled once in the moonlight like a wave across water. Her lips trembled into a delicate smile—guarded, untrained, real.
Far below, inside, Romeo leaned against a windowsill, gazing out. He saw her back turned to him. Pale, detached—but the silence between them held resonance.
He didn't call out.
He whispered into the hush, "One day…I'll stand beside you."
The night deepened, Crocus sank under soft shadows, still vibrant yet serene. The festival magic faded into quiet, but its heat lingered—kindled in every heart still lit with resolve.
Tomorrow would come. With it, challenges. Choices. Truths laid bare.
But tonight belonged to those who had fought—and to those who still carried their echoes forward.
Together. Even from a distance.
Even apart.