📅 July 4, X791 – Late Night
📍 Mercurius Castle Rooftops / Crocus Outskirts
The moon stood high above Crocus—a pale sentinel watching over a city that had braced itself for a future it could neither see nor fully understand. Below, the rooftops lay silent, lanterns flickered with unease, and the air felt brittle—as if the world itself strained under invisible pressure. Somewhere beneath those stones lay a trembling fabric of time, reaching toward breaking.
On the highest spire of Mercurius Castle, two silhouettes stood at the edge of all they knew.
Teresa—clad in gleaming battle armor—stood utterly still. Her short white cloak, stitched with the black Fairy Tail emblem, stirred quietly with each restless breeze. Her sword remained tucked away, re-equipped into invisibility by choice. She needed no steel to sense the swelling threat inching closer to Crocus's heart. Her senses, trained sharper than any blade, were sufficient.
Next to her stood Romeo Conbolt, violet flame sword resting against the stone railing. Though his posture appeared calm, a tense focus tethered his breath to the distant pulse of magic. Their shoulders nearly touched—a silent signal that in their bond lay the seed of something bigger than mere strategy or survival.
He was the first to breach the silence.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Romeo asked, voice hushed but steady. "The future pressing down on us."
Her silver eyes remained fixed on the skyline—at the place where threadlike distortion streaked through layers of magic and stone.
Bulging lines of power shimmered at the horizon, like the blade of fate slipping into the world.
"Yes," she replied at last. "The fissures in time are no longer cracks. They are wounds. Large enough to bleed monsters in."
His fingers hovered above his sword's hilt.
"Are you afraid?"
She steadied. Then, almost quietly—
"Fear is an indulgence. A luxury reserved for those still tied to warmth. I have abandoned such things. I prepare only to sever."
He studied her, every line of her withdrawn posture.
"You always speak of being a blade," he said gently. "That you have no choice but to cut."
Her silver gaze glinted.
"But the blade that does not protect forgets its purpose. You can sever anything—but what good is that when it cannot stand in front of someone worth saving?"
Teresa turned toward him fully, her armor shifting softly in moonlit shadows. Her expression remained unreadable, but her voice softened with clarity.
"You misinterpret."
"A blade does not stand before or behind. It simply is. Whether it guards something or not, it exists to end what threatens. Nothing more."
Romeo paused, letting the wind curl around them like a spectral audience.
"And why are you still here?" he asked. His voice caught on the question—but only faintly. "If you truly belong only to the cut… You would vanish into legend now. But you don't. You stay."
The night flared with emotion beneath that word.
Teresa inhaled slowly—thin moonlight glinting off her armor plates. The city's bells rang in distant squares—warning and rallying calls both.
She exhaled into silence. At last, she responded.
"Perhaps... I am curious."
Curious.
The word carried gravity. No approval. Not warmth. Not admission. Just undeniable human curiosity.
Romeo's eyes flickered with hope.
"I don't just want to survive," he said. Stepping closer, he let his hand lightly touch the armored outer layer of her arm. Cool metal met warmth. "I want to fight beside you. Not in your shadow or trailing behind—as your equal."
A flicker of surprise touched her face. The corners of her lips were twitching—not into scorn, but something undeclared.
"Foolish," she whispered.
"Maybe," he replied. "But if being foolish means my flame—my echo—remains alive... I'll honor it. Even if you never believe in it."
Her breath caught at something raw in that word—an echo echoing back. Not pleasant. Not regret. Just… unfamiliar. And in her hundreds of silent nights, that sensation was rare.
Far below, Crocus trembled. Guards readied magical wards. Citizens took shelter. The city lights pulsed with urgency and purpose—even as fear flickered across crooked cobblestones and within every rushing shadow.
The pulse beneath their feet accelerated.
A dull roar—unheard in tooth or tongue—pulsed through the magical bones of the city. The Eclipse Gate's energy leaked into the night, casting tremors across the skyline. Stones hummed with pulled tension. The air stung with ancient threat.
Teresa inhaled the change.
"The dragons are near," she stated quietly. "Their ancient breath reaches through time's seam toward us."
Romeo let his sword rise slightly. Flame glowed brighter in the dark.
"Then we fight," he said. "Not alone. Not by slicing everything apart. Together."
Her eyes reflected an internal battle—steel and memory and choice intertwining.
"We shall see."
On that word, their shoulders aligned.
He was the echo.
She was the edge.
They stood beneath stars that dared not move—yet gazes tethered to distant tremor that bled through magic seams.
Tonight, they stood resolute—one seeking to test warmth. The other willing burden.
Together, but alone.
Moonlight washed over their joined stance.
A whisper of gratitude escaped Romeo.
"For not leaving," he said, voice low but unshaken.
She did not look at him.
But she did not deny the words either.
The air trembled again. Rooftop lanterns flickered as street signals pulsed. Mages stepped into runic sigils lit high above towers. The crescendo of dread became undeniable.
And yet, on this rooftop world, their silhouettes remained still. Two figures shaped by divergence, by past and purpose. United in an unspoken promise beneath a fearful night.
Tomorrow, the blade and echo will clash.
Oceanic waves of fate rose.
They would stand at the edge of fracture or creation.
And the future—elastic with horror and hope—faced them both, waiting to see which would shape the breaking.