The northern winds still sang across the battlements of Vistarion, capital of the Alvarez Empire, but for now, the drums of war had gone silent. Zeref had called them to his court once more Fafnir and Irene, quiet outliers among the Spriggan elite. No formal audience. No soldiers. Just the three of them in a high chamber where stars burned above and war maps gathered dust.
"You won't be needed yet," Zeref told them, unrolling an ancient scroll instead of issuing orders. There's still a lot more work to be done before we confront Acnologia."
Fafnir leaned against a column, arms folded. "So what do you need from us now?"
Zeref's eyes narrowed not in suspicion, but something quieter. Reflection.
"Nothing," he said. "Not yet. But soon."
Irene raised a brow. "So you're sending us away."
"I'm offering time," Zeref corrected. "You've already given me your trust. Take these years and make them your own. I suggest you go somewhere even Alakitasia cannot reach."
He turned then, eyes glancing west far past Ishgar, past the sea, to the untraveled wilds.
"Guiltina," he said. "Neither of you have walked there, have you?"
Fafnir blinked. Irene's expression tightened with intrigue.
"No," she admitted. "Only read about it in texts. Old magic. Apparently some still Living dragons as well. Even some gods."
Zeref gave a rare, faint smile. "Then go. It will be good for you both. Learn from what you see there. I will call you back when the time comes."
---
Voyage West
They left the Empire under quiet skies, flying under illusion wards and with no entourage. Fafnir, in dragon form, carved through the clouds above Pergrande and crossed into Ishgar briefly only to arc far into the western ocean toward the distant, myth-cloaked continent of Guiltina.
Their ship, enchanted and reinforced by Irene herself, followed the old stars and drifted into waters few dared cross. Sea serpents rose beneath them once. Leviathans twice. But neither dared approach the creature that Fafnir became when he unleashed his true form white-scaled and winged, like the storm itself.
Their bond deepened on that voyage. In the silence between storms and the warmth of long nights near the helm, they shed old habits. Titles meant nothing here. No Empire. No soldiers. No cursed immortals. Just Irene and Fafnir, drifting toward a world neither could predict.
One evening, as their ship sailed beneath a sky glowing violet with a lunar eclipse, Fafnir set his cup down beside her. "Irene," he said quietly, "We've been many things. Allies. Wanderers. Even friends. But I… I want something more."
She met his eyes, the firelight glinting in them. "Then say it."
"I want to be yours. And you mine. No more pretending we're still waiting for some permission from the past."
Her lips curled into a rare, soft smile. "I thought you'd never say it."
She leaned forward and kissed him no spellwork, no glamours. Just the truth between them, sealed under the moon's shadow.
And this time it felt different than before.
---
Guiltina
The continent of Guiltina was unlike anything either had seen.
They traveled lightly. Fafnir often took on his human form, his draconic essence hidden behind layers of enchantment. Irene studied the flora and ambient enchantments. Here, magic obeyed a different rhythm. The land was not ruled by kings or mages but spirits and gods.
One village revered the wind. Another, the earth. In one settlement high in the southern cliffs, they heard whispers of a goddess who ruled the moon and walked the stars a Dragon Goddess who governed dreams and destiny from her silver domain.
Selene.
Neither took the legend seriously at first. They had seen too much of self-proclaimed gods to believe in myth.
But Guiltina did not care what they believed.
---
It was near the end of X783 when they met her.
They had climbed a sacred ridge said to belong to no tribe "Moon's Perch," the locals called it. A high and desolate peak. Fafnir had felt something stirring in the winds as they ascended, something vast and aware.
They arrived at twilight. And she was waiting.
Selene.
Her beauty was unnatural pale skin glowing like the moon itself, long blond hair, and a presence that bent space around her like tides obeying the lunar pull. Her eyes shimmered like stars, and her scent was not of perfume, but starlight and lilies. She reclined across a crescent-shaped rock, smiling.
"I wondered when you'd arrive," she said lazily. "The dragon who walks as a man. The human queen reborn."
Fafnir stepped forward, cautious. "You're Selene?"
"Among other names," she said, standing gracefully. "But I prefer the one this world gave me. I sensed your kind the moment you crossed the sea. A dragon unlike the others. Not born from raw chaos like Acnologia. Not raised for slaughter like the Dragon Slayers. You were made… differently."
Fafnir didn't answer. But Irene narrowed her eyes.
"What do you want?"
Selene ignored her. She stepped close to Fafnir, her gaze curious. Her fingers brushed the air near his face but did not touch. "You walk between two worlds. Man and dragon. Mortal and memory. I like that."
Fafnir stepped back slightly. "I'm not yours to like."
Her smile didn't falter. "You've taken a mate?"
Irene raised her hand, magic ready. "He has."
Selene blinked once, slowly, like a cat.
"I could offer you much more."
"I'm not interested."
"Not even in power? Eternity? Divinity?"
"I've already lived through gods," he said, with something like bitterness in his voice. "They bleed the same."
Selene's expression darkened slightly more curious than offended. Then she stepped back, her posture fluid as water.
"A pity," she said. "But a rare thing. Loyalty." She looked to Irene then. "You have a good one. Keep him."
Without another word, she vanished, drifting into mist and stars.
---
That night, in the jungle below, Fafnir sat alone by a spring, staring into the water. Irene approached quietly, sitting beside him.
"She was beautiful," she said.
"She was a goddess," he replied. "But I'm not hers."
He turned to face her, the moon reflecting in his eyes. "I'd never betray you, Irene. Not with her. Not with anyone."
"I know," she said. "But I needed to hear it."
He took her hand in both of his.
"I chose you," he whispered. "Not just because we lost everything. But because we built something new."
She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "And I choose you. Always."
They stayed there under the moonlight until morning.
---
X783
Three years had passed since they left the Empire. In that time, they had explored more than half the continent. They'd walked through sacred groves where even Irene's enchantments faltered. Fought off minor gods who mistook them for invaders. Watched dragons fly, unafraid and free. They had become more than survivors. They had become whole.
But now, they felt it a pull. A whisper in the wind that carried Zeref's name. The time was drawing near.
As they packed to return, Irene glanced once more toward the sacred ridge.
"She'll be watching," she said.
"Let her," Fafnir replied. "We're done chasing gods. Now we chase purpose."
And with that, they turned east, toward war, toward destiny and toward the daughter who still did not know how loved she was.