Fairy x Adventure

by Magnafeana

In a new era after the Alvarez War, Lucy, Natsu, and the rest of Fairy Tail not only face new challenges but watch as their kids go on new journeys, learn new powers, and battle new enemies and old! Join Luna, Nashi, and the upcoming generation of Mages on Fairy Tail and more on their never-ending adventure!

148. Adventure 148

Disclaimer: I do not own Hiro Mashima's Fairy Tail, any work professionally associated with it, nor any pop culture or classical references. All original plots and characters are mine.

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In a land far, far away lies the kingdom of Fiore, a small, peaceful nation of 17 million, and a place filled with Magic found in every home, bought and sold in every marketplace. For most, Magic is merely a tool, a mundane part of everyday life. For some, however, Magic is an art, and they've devoted their lives to its practice. These are the wizards. Banded together into magical guilds, they ply their skills in search of fame and fortune. Many such guilds dot the landscape of Fiore. But there is a certain guild in a certain town that soars high above the rest, one from which countless legends have been born. A guild that will no doubt continue to create legends well into the future. Its name...is Fairy Tail.

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LAST TIME, on Fairy Adventure: the Museum of Illusions might have been a place people vied to go, but for our heroes, this museum became much more real than they wanted. From doppelgängers to dating stories, no one had it easy. But suffice to say, for as worse as things are becoming, it can still get worse from here—especially when Yara fails her last attempt to save Johann.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the man who is going to save your life. And…I'm the man responsible for the deaths of your previous employers."

No one ever said this trip to Shamballa would be a cake walk. But it looks like this trip will be a good lesson that people can't have their cake and eat it too.

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Chibi-Nashi appears with a grin and a wave. "Hi, everyone! Ready for more Fairy Adventure? To keep your eyes safe, make sure you read with at least one light on in a low setting! And here is the updated time zone table!"

Abbreviations – Time Zone Name • — • — •— • — Location • — Offset

MCDT • — • — Melandian Central Daylight Time – Melandia • — • UTC +7

CST • — • — • – Cipangu Standard Time • — • — • — Cipangu • — • – UTC +5

SST • — • — • – Sīchóu Standard Time • — • — • — Zhōnguá • — • – UTC +3

CIT • — • — • – Central Ishgaran Time • — • — • — Bellum • — • – UTC +2

CMT • — • — • – Charring Mean Time • — • — • — Minstrel • — • – UTC +1

FST • — • – Fiore Standard Time • — • — • — • Fiore • — • — • – UTC - 0:00

WIT • — • – Western Ishgaran Time • — • — • — • Caelum • — • – UTC - 0:00

ACT • — • — Arcticados Central Time • — • — • – Arcticados • — • — UTC – 1

CAST • — • — • — • — Caracole-Alicanto Standard Time – Fiore • — • UTC – 1

ADT • — • — • – Alvarez Daylight Time • — • — • – Alvarez • — • — UTC – 2

SST • — • — Shamballa Standard Time • — • — Shamballa • — • — UTC – 2

EAT • — • — • – East Andüsa Time • — • — • – Andüsa • — • — • — UTC – 2

AT • — • — • – Amazone Time • — • — • — • — • — Valchestria • — UTC - 4

EST • — • — • – Eastern Standard Time • — • — • – Meidiland • — • UTC - 6

She holds up a finger. "Please keep in mind, the author does not condone certain actions from characters. A scene marked X-X-X indicates the start of explicit, nonconsensual content and the Y-Y-Y will indicate the end of such content. Please only read what you are comfortable with and do know for our heroes of the story, it does get better in the future." She winks with a thumbs up. "See you at the end of the episode!"

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KIRAKIRA!

Applause rang about the auditorium with everyone dressed in black with their masks, yet they looked like they were headed to a ball with their suits and dresses. They smiled as the silly harlequin assistants wheeled off the latest and sold item. They made a show of it like they were true clowns, bowling each other over and one pulled the mask off the other to make the assistant feign panic they were "naked". Laughter came from the crowd—such comedy indeed!

The Auctioneer took center stage, always the attention hog, and he jested, "Forgive my assistant, but I promise—no one is driving tonight!" He twirled across the stage as he gained more laughter. "Now, now, we've got a very special item to auction off, my dear friends, and I need my dear harlequins to help me out with the reveal." He spread out his arms. "So please, come out, my dears, and help me with the show!"

Spotlight cast upon two large boxes with a harlequin crossdressing as a showgirl assistant. The audience broke into murmurs. What would the Auctioneer be planning?

From thin air, the Auctioneer brought out a top hat and used Magic to make himself a cape and a cane. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages, it's time for my next trick! I will make my lovely assistant"—he kissed the harlequin's hand, making the audience chuckle—"teleport from this box"—he spun to tap his cane on the right one and the door opened to show the empty interior—"to this one"—and he tapped the left one and the door opened with no one inside. "And I'll be using no Magic!"

That certainly cast the crowd into a tizzy.

"No need to worry, my friends, but as a word of caution: please don't try this at home!" The Auctioneer helped his assistant get into the right box. "Oh! And one more thing…" He dramatically pointed his cane upwards. "Let's make my trick even more…interesting."

KIRAKIRA!

Now the audience was both fascinated and aghast when they saw a two-ton safe dangling over the right box. He could not possibly be thinking…

"Yes, that's right!" the Auctioneer said. "I'll have exactly ten seconds to get my lovely assistant into the next box without Magic or they'll, well…" And he mimed a splat! with his hands. When the harlequin pretended to feel fear, the Auction rushed to assure, "Now, don't worry, my dear, this trick only two three tries until I got it right." He locked his assistant in and conspiratorially confided to the crowd, "And three assistants."

The audience cracked up.

"Now!" The Auctioneer twirled his cane. "I know this might be hard for some of you, but raise your hands if you can count to ten?" When everyone raised their hands, he challenged dubiously, "Now… Can you also count to ten backward?" He faked surprise when the hands stayed up. "Well now, looks like you're smarter than your nation's ruler, now aren't you?"

The crowd crowed.

"Well, you smarty-pants, to give me a bit of courage, I'll need you to do me a favor and give me a countdown from ten to get my assistant from there"—the Auctioneer spun to the right box—"to here." And he leaned onto the left. "And once you say 'zero', the safe will drop and, well… Let's find out what happens, shall we?" He flared his cape and pretended to get serious at the right box. "All right, my friends. I'll need you to countdown for me in three…two…one…now!"

"Ten!" the audience chanted. "Nine!"

The Auctioneer whirled his want like he was conjuring a mighty brew.

"Eight! Seven!"

The Auction kept up his charade, concentrating hard.

"Six! Five!"

Upon a grim revelation he could not do it, he stopped and mimed a panicked wait, stop, don't do it.

"Four! Three!"

But the safe lowered.

"Two!"

The Auctioneer pleaded for the audience to stop.

"One!"

The Auction turned away and covered his ears.

"Zero!"

The safe dropped—

DON!

After a few moments, the Auctioneer looked behind him and covered his mouth opening with a hand when he saw the smashed box and the enormous safe on top. Glancing at the audience, he swept to the left box and gave the door two taps of his cane.

The door opened.

No one was inside.

Silence.

The Auctioneer took off his hat and hung his head, quietly mourning. "Well." He gathered a breath—

KONKONKON!

He stopped.

KONKONKON!

Curious, he placed a finger to his mouth and scoped out the sound.

KONKONKON!

He was rightfully bewildered when the sound came from the safe. Carefully, he knocked his cane to the safe. The lock turned and clicked to open the door and…

DOTADOTA…

The audience was in an uproar when the harlequin assistant came out, fresh as a daisy, and held up a picture of a sonogram holding twins like they were a ring girl for a boxing match.

The Auctioneer threw his hat and soaked in the applause. "And we've done it, ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for participating in my trick and let the bidding begin on one of our biggest ticket items, two God Slayers and rights to the mother who can give you your own pantheon of God Slayers! I know you want a God Slayer! And you and you and—yes, you in the front, I know you want one too! So open your wallets and let's get this show started!"

And as the crowd went ballistic in cheers, one sat on a lone balcony and hid in the shadows, swirling his wine.

Someone came forward and murmured in his ear, "I've confirmed with a harlequin the Auctioneer shall receive you in his gold tearoom, Young Master."

The Young Master decided to drink his wine in one gulp. "Then I look forward to it." He checked his watch. "And let's make it quick, shall we?" He extended his glass for more wine. "I have a date tonight."

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

KIRAKIRA!

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

The golden sitting room was more cozy than grandiose, but that meant that flaunting one's wealth was not the name of the game. Sure, the ornate drapery and jewel-encrusted vases and little decorations and the grand fireplace with all its gold accents did say a bit about the owner, but considering the books on the shelves looked worn and used and there were wears on the carpet and dents in the couches, this tearoom was one of comfort not to charm and please.

He sat one on of the couches with his legs crossed and his assistant studiously behind him, but neither looked when the doors opened. Larger Shadower Harlequins looked to be guarding the tearoom as the Auctioneer came inside with two of his own assistants and a briefcase. "So sorry about that," he apologized. "I invite you for a private meeting and here I am, running late. Playing nice with those Skins has so many drawbacks."

"Naturally," the Young Master neutrally agreed.

The Auctioneer handed his briefcase to his assistant before he took off his Arlecchino harlequin mask and gloves to give to his other assistant. Beneath the mask, he looked like any other Shadower with his blurry, darker-than-black form. But the difference between him and them was he had a mouth with pearly teeth, but an uncanny white stained his tongue and the inside of his mouth. "I don't know how you keep your temper with those disgusting Skins. All that disease and germs—I shudder to think about touching those things."

"I guess I've adapted, considering my lady is a Skin," the Young Master supposed.

The Auctioneer merrily laughed. "Yes, I remember." He sat down and his assistants hurried to get him a flute and some drink that looked awfully black. "How is your Siren? I haven't seen her in quite some time. She'd make a killing in the Citadel."

"She's not for sale."

The Auctioneer laughed again as he brought up his glass. "Everything has a price." As he took a sip, he gestured to his assistant, and the harlequin put down the briefcase on the coffee table. "Just as you have yours." And he nodded.

The harlequin assistant tapped the lock on the briefcase for a Lock Sigil Screen to populate. After typing in the passcode, the case popped open. They opened it up and showed it to the Young Master.

The Young Master glanced inside.

The sonogram of the twins lay inside with a few vials of blood.

The Auctioneer gestured with a large smile. "Just as you requested. Totally secrecy in buying the twins and that Skin mother," he purred. "I'm not sure what you want with the Skin, but if you plan on breeding it, I'd be more than happy to take in the spawns—"

"That won't be necessary." The Young Master raised a hand.

His assistant fluttered down a hand to create a screen. With a few taps, the screen appeared before the Auctioneer and he smiled at all the zeroes translating into his currency. "Here I thought Skins were barely worth anything, but as always, you prove me wrong." He accepted the wire transfer and waved out his assistants, who melted (literally) into the shadows.

The Auctioneer observed his flute in the fire's light. "We've known each other since you were just a boy, haven't we?"

"We have," the Young Master agreed.

"Then I'd say that practically makes me your family." The Auctioneer set down his flute on the coffee table. "And as your family, I feel I have a bit of right to know what you're planning and how my support could be lucrative for the both of us."

"There's no need for you to interfere," the Young Master swiftly dismissed. "I have everything under control."

The Auctioneer chuckled and sat back with his arms spread on the back of the couch. "How cruel of you, leaving me out of the fun. But I'll accept defeat and withdraw for now. I just can't help my curiosity." He cocked his head. "You've made valuable trades with me and provided me with security not even that Empire can crack—and of course, I'm most grateful"—he pretended to bow graciously—"yet this is the first time you've bought from my wares. Curiouser and curiouser."

The Young Master stayed quiet.

The Auctioneer heaved a sigh. "But I suppose, as the Skins say, 'curiosity killed the cat'? But for us Shadows, our curiosity makes us strong. You see, without my curiosity, I would be another obedient little Shadow clinging to a Skin and desperately wanting them to care for me as I mirror their every action." He did not sound bitter; instead, he sounded almost amused. "And without your curiosity, well, you wouldn't be the brilliant creature you are with that sensual Siren, would you?"

The Young Master stayed quiet.

Making a show of it, the Auctioneer conjured a spinning top and let it loose on the table. He watched it spin and spin, but he said, "How curious you buy one of my biggest items on this planet. I mean, I confess the Devil and the Black Dragon would have hauled in more from the Skins across the universe. You don't know how disappointing it was to let my revered clients know they wouldn't be able to get little Devil spawns of their own."

He dramatically sighed. "I even had to turn down such expensive offers. You have no idea how many Skins want their own night with the Devil to mate with it or even watch it breed with another Skin. What a loss in revenue. Though I suppose I'll make up for it. I always have contingency plans when sales fall through. But you see…" He rolled his head back to the Young Master. "I could have asked you for a trade: the breeding Skin and her litter for the Devil. But I didn't. When you asked me for the breeding Skin, I had one simple little request."

His smile fell as he leaned forward. "I wanted to know where my favorite harlequin went."

The Young Master did not miss a beat. "My ability is limited to technology, and you know that. I haven't traced your harlequin in any technology, and my ability can't reach realms like the Shadow Lands where technology doesn't exist."

"Yes, yes, I know," the Auctioneer sighed, waving a hand. "You told me this before, and I have no reason to doubt you. But… It's frustrating, isn't it?" He went back to watching the top spin. "He was such a loyal harlequin. I can't understand it. But he was so odd. He freed himself from his Skin to save that disease-ridden creature. And what did the Skin do? It locked him in a jar and shoved him into the dark. He would have died had I not found him. Always so empathetic to those Skins, that one, always touching them and comforting them when they drag us around, nearly kill us by casting us in pitch-black, and never have the gall to give a care about our feelings."

The top spun faster the darker the Auctioneer's tone went.

"How could he still care for that race?" the Auctioneer growled, and his blurred form sharpened monstrously. "He had me, but he chose to sneak into the Shadow Lands and…help those Skins," he spat. His shadowy hands sharpened into claws. "I gave him everything. I gave him his freedom. I gave him a name. But he still cast me aside for those"—his teeth gnashed into fangs as his shadow form looked like a raging beast and shadows in the room expanded to suck into him—"revolting Skins."

The Young Master said nothing.

With a loud breath, the Auctioneer gave way to his rage and slowly formed himself as the handsome gentleman from before.

"I am sorry for your loss," the Young Master said, delicate, "but my ability still has limits."

"Would those limits stop you if your pretty songbird flew free from her cage?" the Auctioneer asked, even.

That got a thumb twitch from the Young Master, but the top spun flawlessly. "I don't keep her caged."

"Oh, I know you don't. But we both know she's caged by those Skins," the Auctioneer chuckled. "But if she were to free herself from her cage and fly away from you, I'm sure your ability would find a way to bring her back."

The top spun.

"I hope that wasn't a threat," the Young Master cautioned.

The Auctioneer waved a blasé hand. "Of course not. It would do me no good to threaten the person who keeps my auction sites under the radar of multiple galaxies. No, I'm not threatening you. I was just painting a picture so you could understand my…perspective. And how much I am willing to go to find my harlequin and return him home—how much I am willing to give you to find him."

"That would only work if—"

"Yes, I know, I know, your ability has limits, but that's why I suggest a…lure or some kind to bring him out," the Auctioneer suggested. "Harmless, of course, but a lure, nonetheless. I know my little harlequin better than he knows himself. He has blind loyalty to Skins that not even my love could break. So I won't turn him against Skins. I was too hasty before."

"Then what would you suggest?"

The Auctioneer's smile unpleasantly grew. "Bring me the Skin he's attached himself to."

The Young Master paused.

The top wobbled only just before spinning again.

The Auctioneer continued: "If I know my little harlequin, then I know he's hidden from me all these years because he found a Skin to care for and nurture and raise, the pitiful thing. He always wanted a child. And, well… I wouldn't want to separate him from his pet Skin."

"What's in it for me?" the Young Master asked.

"A trade of equal value." The Auctioneer's smile looked too large for his face. "I'll free your Siren from her gilded cage."

The top teetered and threatened to collapse.

The Young Master's silence was unreadable.

The Auctioneer looked satisfied. "Just something to think about. We both have things we covet from the Skins. Why not work together to keep them?"

"And what would you do if your harlequin came back to you?" the Young Master asked, low.

The Auctioneer stroked his chin. "Let's see… What would I do…? He's been a tad naughty. And my naughty harlequins understand the punishment for trying to cast me aside. He'll need to be adequately reminded of the rules. And once he understands my love is greater than anything a Skin could offer him, I assure you, he'll be in very thorough hands at my side where he belongs."

"I see," the Young Master murmured.

The Auctioneer reached for his top, but he did not pluck it. He questioned, "And what would you do if I freed your Siren from her cage?"

"Allow her to be free," the Young Master said with no hesitation.

The top wobbled and collapsed.

The Auctioneer's smile quirked. "How truly fascinating." And he stole back the toy top before standing up. "Well." He exaggerated his bow. "I bid you adieu, my good sir. It's been a pleasant evening. And may you enjoy your purchase of the Skin and her spawns." He sunk into the shadows. "I look forward to hearing good news." And he disappeared.

The Young Master waited ten beats before he asked quietly, "Is she being watched?"

"No more than usual, Young Master," his assistant told, honest.

"Good." The Young Master stood up and loosened his tie. "T.A.D.A.S.H.I., prepare our transport back home and make sure to send my songbird's favorite dessert up to our room." Jiro's analytic eyes processed data at the drop of the hat as he prowled out of the tearoom. "And make room on the schedule until eleven. I don't want to be disturbed even if someone is dying. Because I'm feeling very frustrated."

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

"Ame no youna kaze no youna

Dareka no koto jama suru youna

Hito ni nante naritaku wanai kara?

Hare no youna hikari no youna

Dareka no koto teraseru youna

Hito ni naritai!"

nante itai tte dareka no koe ga?

Kikoetara nanda

Nagutte kowashite sayonara DILEMMA!

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

Yara did not know what to process first: that she had irrevocably failed in saving His Majesty King Johann, that she needed to regroup about the plan to save Her Majesty Queen Orisa, or that the killer of the former members of the royal family and dozens of staff stood before her like he had the right.

She had just gotten used to a Dragon being alive and right in front of her eyes.

Was this punishment for never calling Heinrich "father"?

"Darling, I think the poor turtle dove is going into shock," Swan said, singsong.

That snapped Yara out of it and she grabbed her dagger to sneer at the alleged murderer. "Nice try playing on my emotions, but I don't believe everything I hear," she snapped. "Their Majesties and their staff died due to an engine malfunction and the ground staff were taken into custody for tampering with it."

Swan looked highly amused. "And you believed that?"

Yara glared at them. "How dare you—"

"That engine malfunction was by the ground staff, technically, but also, it wasn't," Thirteen confessed. "But we don't have the time for me to go over every single gritty detail. And also, I can't break the Vow on me to go over every gritty detail. But right now, your life is in jeopardy—"

"My life has always been in jeopardy," Yara spat at him. "And this is no different. I will put everything on the line if it means saving Their Majesties and their child—everything." She positioned her dagger. "Death doesn't scare me."

Swan muttered, "How dramatic."

"And it shouldn't," Thirteen agreed, ignoring Swan. "Death is too easy of an out for someone like you who knows too much. That's why the Prime Minister wants you dragged in barely alive."

That destabilized some of Yara's aggression. 'The Prime Minister'? Her features schooled into a scowl. "I don't believe you. No one could ever know where I am."

"And you're half right about that, turtledove," Swan agreed, cupping their elbow with one hand while waving their feathered fan in the other. "No one could ever know your precise location, no. But your movement for the Sorcerer's Stone is all too obvious. Some people are quite the educated guessers, like our companion The Raven. And he's been ordered to bring your body back at least barely alive so you can confess your sins to the Prime Minister. And so the Prime Minister can abduct the queen and prince and hold them in captivity."

"But that…" Yara could not believe it. "Why would Göran do that? He's actively trying to kill His Majesty—"

"Oh, come now, turtle dove, did you really think that?"

Yara was taken aback at Swan's little smirk. What are they…?

"Don't tell me you think that ugly duckling is truly that villainous?" Swan mocked. "Bellum needs Chess. The people believe in that, even the conservatives. It's because their royal rulers always had Chess that gave the people their pride and security, and it also dissuaded any wars for Bellum. And with King Johann being the only wielder of it, the ugly duckling won't risk killing him, no. Because—"

"Because His Majesty is a steeple for the people," Yara said, absent. "He's not going to kill His Majesty. He doesn't want to wipe out Her Majesty or His Highness." Her dagger dropped. "He's still at it. He wants the perfect pawn. And the way to control His Majesty is…" Her stomach toiled as she remembered seeing the summertime innocence of Johann and Orisa's love story. Oh, Mother… I was fearful Göran wanted their deaths, but… This… This is much worse.

"And that's why we've come to help you."

Yara snapped her blues to Thirteen. "'Help' me?" she echoed. But that wrath was back as she snarled, "You just said you killed—!"

"Yes, yes, he killed most of the royal family," Swan waved off like it was a passing statement, and that alone bewildered Yara. "Turtle dove—now isn't the time for temper tantrums. Time is of the essence and all that, and I'm in desperate need of a shower and passionate lovemaking with my trophies." They kittenishly purred at Thirteen, "But we always have room for a fourth, Vulture. I know how much you enjoyed orgies."

Thirteen glared at them. "Now isn't the time."

Swan shrugged. "I can't think straight when I'm needy and my trophies aren't here to serve me. I told you, I'm only good for a few hours. I'm sure my trophies are going through the same withdrawal as me, my poor things. They're probably panting for me—"

"Would you shut up about your damn trophies!"

Yara's jaw creaked as she watched Swan wax poetic about their "trophies" while Thirteen looked ready for a shootout. I… Why am I always stuck with the weird ones?

POKE!

Yara nearly jumped out of her skin when Cassowary, ever silent, poked her and cocked his head like a bird when she looked about ready to go into the great hereafter. I might die of a heart attack at this rate! Fed up, she snapped, "Enough!"

The trio paused and looked at her.

Yara struck a frigid look at Thirteen. "Look. I don't know if what you're saying is truth or lies, but you cost me my only chance of saving Their Majesties. And if you truly are responsible for Bellum's current state, you are indebted to eighty-three million Bells who lost our ruler and our security. So if you plan to 'help', don't think I'll let you get away free from everything you cost my people and my king. You are the reason my queen had to endure constant abuse. And if that disgusting monster forces a pregnancy on her, that creature is on your hands."

"I know." Thirteen did not shy away or show grief for his actions. He accepted them as they were. "Just getting you out of here won't absolve my role in your kingdom's political war, I know. But I'm still going to help you escape. You need all of us to help you escape, Yara."

"He's right, turtledove," Swan piped up. "You don't have the luxury of being picky and let's be honest. You don't have the expertise for getting your hands stained in blood. So why not let us do the dirty work for you and make your escape all that much easier?" Their eyes sharpened. "Don't let your pride prevent you from seeing the bigger picture. That's what got you into this mess in the first place."

Yara gritted her teeth. She could deliver a scathing retort, but it would do her no good. They're right. I can't be choosey anymore as much as I hate it. And if that man is responsible for this mess, then I can finally give His Majesty the truth he deserves about his family. "I'll need to confer with my contact—"

"There is no need for that."

Yara whipped her head to the voice in the shadows. Who is—! Her eyes widened when the voice stepped into the light. "You?"

"A pleasure to meet you again, Miss Sandström." T.A.D.A.S.H.I. bowed, looking neat and tidy in his tailored butler uniform. "I apologize for the delay. The Young Master and the Young Miss are preoccupied and are not to be disturbed, so please, follow me." His dark eyes glitter. "For we have much to discuss."

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

Fairy Adventure 148

•

Friday Prayer

•

صَلَاة ٱلْجُمُعَة,

•

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

KONKONKONKON! KONKONKONKON!

PINPON!

Vinyl's bedroom had gone through quite the toss with clothes everywhere and the mini-bar in her room had been cleaned out. The knocking and doorbell ringing made a frazzled and naked Vinyl stir and groan, hair unkempt. She buried her head under her pillow, but the muffled sounds still sounded too loud. "Ugh. I think I'm finally that age where I get hangovers."

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

Burj Al'umi Hotel

Shamballa City

Shamballa, Alakitasia

06:32 SST

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

Grumbling, she pulled herself out of bed and grabbed a frumpy long shirt and some pajama shorts, but every movement felt like her last with her head punishing her from getting out of bed. But she did it—she got on her clothes, grimaced when she tasted dry alcohol on her breath, and slogged out of the bedroom. "I'm coming," she hollered, but she grumbled under her breath, "to kill you."

When she opened the door, she squinted and could not be bothered to fake pleasantries. "Yes?"

"Good morning, Miss Vinyl." The employee showed her a black box. "You've received an MS." They tapped the box and a signature screen popped up for Vinyl. "I'll just need you to sign off on it."

That woke up Vinyl somewhat. A MemoSphere? Wary, she questioned, "Who's it from?"

"All I was told is that it's from the friend who told you your fantasy man's LacriNet history."

Vinyl's eyes widened. Genius? She colored a bit and hastily signed. "He didn't really do that," she assured with a strained laugh. "It's just, um…an inside joke between friends and all." Signature accepted, she collected the box. "I mean, it's a really funny story—"

"Good day, Miss."

Vinyl panicked as the employee scampered away. "It's a joke! He didn't really do that for me!" But she sagged when the employee disappeared around a corner. "Well, I'm sure I'll be hot gossip now. Thanks a lot, Idiot."

She went back into her suite and closed the door, but the box carried significant weight in her hands. An MS? Is this about the Emira? It'd make sense he didn't want to use Compacts considering all the commlinks are under government surveillance here, but still…

She made herself at home on a couch and unwrapped the bow—

BLIP!

Vinyl blinked when a screen popped up. Another one? She read the writing:

PLEASE PLACE HAND HERE FOR MAGICAL IDENTIFICATION AND DNA SCAN

Vinyl placed her hand on the outline hand and felt the warmth of a spell pinch her skin. A joyful sound pinged from the screen before it dissolved. The bow undid itself for her convenience, and all she had to do was remove the top. A small crystal ball waited for her, snug in its box. She took hold of it and frowned. What's going on, Genius?

She set it on the coffee table and tapped it.

FWOOM!

Genius projected atop the crystal ball with his VR goggles on. "Vinyl. I need you to listen carefully to everything I tell you from this moment." Right off the bat, no-nonsense. "The only way this MS is playing is because I had a rush-order enchantment to sense you were in a secure location, but if you're not, let me know now aloud."

Gone was the hangover; Vinyl buckled down and told him, "I'm safe, Genius, and I'm ready."

The MemoSphere pulsed green.

Genius continued: "All right. We have T-minus six hours until our plan is in motion, and you need to be ready. As such, I've already sent you your stealth suit. It should appear now, now that it's confirmed you're safe."

Vinyl did not flinch when a black package appeared before her, and all she had to do was grab it. "Got it." Determination steeled within her. "What's the plan?"

Genius smiled slightly as though he heard her. "How do you feel about crashing a concert and putting on the best performance of your life?"

Vinyl's blues sparked. "Where's my stage?"

---

Working out early in the morning might have seemed like suicide for the average person, but for serious Guild Mages and athletes, it was the norm. Julia came down to the state-of-the-art gym in the hotel with her EarPods in and ignored the other patrons as she pushed through her morning workout routine before the sun woke up. A nice 1600-meter job on the track to some heavy metal always warmed her up before she hit the weights. Today was back and legs and pushing her muscles to the limit was a good distraction from the rest of her thoughts.

By the time she finished, dark blue traded for sky blue, the sun out and the day officially starting. She kept to herself as she hiked back up to the suite. Gale's bedroom door was shut, but once glance to the balcony told her Gale was outside and if that soft look on his face gave anything away, he was having another delicate conversation with Luna.

None of her business.

ZAAAA…

An ice-cold shower should have felt like death, but Julia's lingering attachments to the cold made her welcome the spray to soothe her burning muscles and cocoon her in familiarity. Yet as she stood under the spray…

"Look, look! Gary, I can do it too!"

Her jaw clenched.

A jagged ice doll against a perfect miniature statue should have been laughable, but Gary's blues were filled with pride. "You sure can," he encouraged. He beamed. "We'll be the best Ice Mages ever, just wait and see."

Her hand fisted.

"Sissy, I'm scared." Silver's blues looked at the kiddie pool in naked fear, and he clung to her arm. "I don't wanna go in there."

Her body locked up.

"Don't worry." She rubbed his head. "I'll be right by your side, okay?"

And his face lit up in a toothy smile. "Okay, Sissy!"

Her fists shook.

"I'm doing what you don't have the guts to do." Nightingale looked at her with those cold, cold eyes as she raised her gun. "And if that means I have to kill a man"—her thumb went to the trigger—"so be it."

GA!

Her bottom lip trembled.

And out of the countless drops of cold touching her body, one heated tear stroked her cheek.

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

ZAAAA…

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

Julia emerged from her bedroom in a fresh change of clothes and a towel around her neck. She largely ignored Gale, who sat in the living room and his eyes focused on their breakfast tray.

He grunted, "Food's here."

Julia mutely nodded and sat opposite of him.

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

Burj Al'umi Hotel

Shamballa City

Shamballa, Alakitasia

07:02 SST

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

Neither touched their food.

Julia broke the silence with a morose question. "How is she?"

"Not that great," Gale said, every word punctured with apathy. "She had a scare, so she'll be staying in her hotel room today."

"Oh." Julia knew she should be sympathetic, concerned even, but the energy was not there. "I hope she feels better."

"Yeah."

More silence.

Still, they did not touch their breakfast.

"Why are we here, Gale?" Julia broke once more with another morose question. "Why are we in this country? What are we doing here?"

Gale could only say what he knew: "I don't know."

Julia had a thousand-yard stare as she looked at her breakfast. "Why did Maxim have to invite me here? What was the point of this? What was the point of any of this?" With each question, the sullen accent morphed into rising anger. "What was the point making me go through all this shit? Why the fuck did I have to watch a woman and her unborn children get sold to the highest bidder? Why am I here?"

As Julia breathed raggedly, Gale still only answered what he could. "I don't know."

He did not flinch when Julia punched the coffee table and nearly shattered it.

"Why?" Warm wetness filmed over her eyes as she snarled. "Why? Why? Why, why, why!"

Her wrath could not be stopped.

She waged war across the living room as she broke into an animalistic scream. Their breakfast was shoved off and one of the living room lamps was smashed into the ground. A vase was thrown at the wall. Hotel room etiquette and fee be damned—she did not give a fuck. Everywhere she stepped, she screamed and wreaked havoc with her tears fresh and her anger reddening.

It all came to a head when she stopped before the balcony window and saw a reflection—a reflection of a bloodshot young woman with heaving breaths and wet cheeks who had a bone to pick with the world.

"Oh, Julianna."

A hooded and masked Nightingale stood in the window with those freezing blues and her gun in hand. "What I see is a weak, little girl. And look how pathetic you've become compared to me." She raised her gun and pointed it at Julia's chest. "There's no room for weakness."

Julia's knuckles whitened.

"Shut up." Her fists shook. "Shut up." She wound back her hand as pure hatred mutilated her face. "Shut up, you bitch!" And her fist drove to punch Nightingale—

BAKI!

Julia panted her rage as she glared into the mirror, every emotion she had frothing and boiling that she barely felt she had punched into Gale's hand instead of shattering the glass. She glowered into her reflection, into the girl who thought deserved everything when she now had nothing.

DRIP…

A tear dripped to the ground.

DROP…

Gale simply watched Julia as her bottom lip quivered. Her eyes shut as though she summoned every ounce of strength she had to keep it all in, shove it down, and move on—

"It's okay to not be okay, Julianna."

Julia's eyes opened and blue struck red.

Gale remained steadfast.

But Juvia crumbled.

Because the hardest diamond was also the most fragile.

Gale held on strong when Julia fell into him with sobs that could make an Angel cry, her body shaking so hard her knees gave out. He lowered them both to the ground, never once letting her fall all by herself. But his silence was enough to encourage her rounds of tears and waves of weeps. He did not need to talk or soothe her or coax her; all he needed to do was be there. She did not need to scream at him how every injustice and cruelty threw memories and nightmares in her face; all she needed to do was cry.

Not for Nightingale.

Not for Lady J.

But for the little girl who had wanted so badly to protect her family.

And for a long time, it was just that, her sobs and his silence. The world turned, the stars burned, but they stayed like that and ignored everything for this moment.

Gale felt when Julia could not give any more. Her body slumped against him, but he could hear even in her unconsciousness, her tears would chase after her. Still quiet, he gathered her in his arms and bridal carried her out of the foyer to her suite. He set her down delicately and did not need to watch and see her flushed and wet cheeks and the creases in her brow. Nothing he could do would take any of that away, and the Wild knew his horde-mate needed to lick her wounds in private.

He shut the door before going back into the living room and doing what he could. His clean-up spell work was still shoddy, but it was enough to repair the shredded pillows and mashed vases and lamps. The Light Lacrima would need replacement and breakfast was trashed, but those were inconsequential matters. Instead, he sunk into a couch and leaned back, his hands on his face. A deep breath. I'm so tired. I'm so tired of all of this.

You need rest, Little Gem, Sycaña soothed. You cannot go on like this.

Gale sighed. I don't have a choice. Lady J might get back on the saddle when she wakes up, but I know the stress is gonna fuck with her. She can't be at her one hundred percent right now, and I'm not pushing her.

You shouldn't push yourself either.

Gale smiled, if only a little. I'm fine. I can handle this for a little longer, so don't helicopter-parent me too much. He glanced at his Compact. Blondie… She sounded off. I hope Red and Silver are there for her. He rubbed his face. That mogwai… His reds darkened. It knew a little too much.

• — • — • — • — •

"Why, certainly."

Gale and Mogwai Chunhua stood on opposite sides, his scowl to her smirk, and their reflections would live in infamy with those expressions. He watched as she paced before him like a lackadaisical cat, but he knew better than underestimate her.

"Let's see…" Mogwai Chunhua tapped a finger to her cheek, her arm under her chest. "Necromancers aren't all born from Demons. In fact, many Demons don't know how to use Necromancy and find it revolting."

"Then how do they learn it?" Gale demanded to know.

Mogwai Chunhua shrugged. "However they can. Some find ancient books; others find higher deities. But successful Necromancy is rare, almost a game. Unless the soul of the person has a reason to live, there's no point in reviving them—"

"I know all that," Gale gritted. "Tell me something useful."

Mogwai Chunhua's smirk dropped in annoyance, and she cocked a hip as she stood before Gale. "Necromancers can't go back to living, but they also can't die. They can't produce children. Unlike 仙娃娃, they need sustenance to live."

Gale's brow furrowed. "'仙娃娃'?"

"I believe you call them 'Dulls', but they are also Immortal Dolls in Zhōnguá," Mogwai Chunhua said with a dismissive wave. "They are cursed with immortality and invincibility. They cannot die, even if they were tormented and every part of them was severed. But unlike those who drank 皇, the Immortal Dolls don't need any form of food, drink, or hygiene. But Necromancers need food."

Gale understood. "'Life'."

"Yes." Mockery gleamed in Mogwai Chunhua's eyes. "Life. Just as Life and Death need each other, Necromancers need their counterpart."

"How do they feed?"

Mogwai Chunhua's sly smirk was back. "How do you think?"

Gale stared at her.

Mogwai Chunhua sighed. "Your ancestor was much more fun. Fine." She checked her nails. "Necromancers are vitavores, life eaters. They receive their little meals sucking the life out of any living thing. If they don't, that's how they die. And their deaths aren't to the afterlife. They'll die in Death's arms, such a twisted fate." She tipped her head as though something slowly came to her. "And just so you know, most Necromancers prefer women."

Gale would not give her the satisfaction of growling. "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Mogwai Chunhua showed her teeth. "Because females create life."

Gale hid his clenched fists.

Mogwai Chunhua sauntered up to him, but she dared not touch him, not yet. "Isn't it hilarious? They target females all because of their biology. How unfortunate. It's so rare for them to find one with spawns inside it." She sucked in a breath and when she opened her eyes, those unnatural eyes of her actual form that looked like they came from Hell—they looked into Gale's eyes, into his soul. "And your little female is a Necromancer's wet dream."

"She's not pregnant." Gale tamped down the urge to slice her mouth.

"Which makes her all that more fascinating, doesn't it?" Mogwai Chunhua put a finger to his heart and looked at his lips. "Why would a Necromancer be so obsessed with a young little female? I want to find out." She brushed her nose with his before bypassing his face, and she whispered in his ear, "Don't you?"

• — • — • — • — •

Gale thought over the conversation a dozen times. What bothers me is, this isn't the first time someone commented on Blondie. Her scent, her aura, her presence—it gives a reaction. I never wanted to think about it before, but… Is that why her parents sheltered her? Is it about her powers? Just what is going on with her?

He blinked out of his thoughts when an unknown number called him. What the…?

He picked up his Compact and stared at it. An unknown number. Normally, I'd ignore it, but… He gripped his Compact. Considering this week, I can't take the chance.

He answered the call, and he waited.

And waited.

And waited—

"Good day. Is this Mister Gale Redfox?"

Gale's eyes widened. Wait… "Tadashii?"

"Yes, hello, Master Gale," Tadashii greeted. "I apologize for this inconvenience, but the Young Master requires your assistance regarding Mistress Yara and the operation to free Mistress Orisa. Mistress Yara will return to your suite with additional aid. We apologize for the delay in communication—"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Gale pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're a real person? Who is this 'Young Master'? And the thing with Yara—"

"Master Gale," Tadashii cut in, firm. "I apologize for being stern, but I have other matters to attend to for the Young Master. I have called to give you an appropriate warning that Mistress Yara will be returning with trustworthy assistance. I ask that you limit all questions to one."

Gale did not have it in him to growl and demand his way. All he could do was rub his forehead and sigh. "Who the Hell did that crazy woman enlist?"

"They are quite the formidable group," Tadashii said. "Though I believe you know one of them."

Gale blinked. I do? "Who?"

"His name until a decade ago was Vulture. But I believe you now know him as…Thirteen."

The world moved, but Gale stood still. What?

---

While Shamballa catered to its tourists, not all went out and considered this a day of drinking and partying. Most Shamballans had been given the day off to spend with their families and relax. Servants of the royal family's estates had the option of a day off to prepare for Jumu'ah prayer, but many stayed for the handsome pay they would receive for helping with the upcoming luncheon. As the kitchen's prepped, warm spice and peaceful white noise filled the estate.

Fatimah wished she could find peace.

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

Morgiana Estate

Shamballa City

Shamballa, Alakitasia

08:19 SST

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

Forgoing her hijab today, she sat on the bench of a bay window in one of the estate rotundas and overlooked one of the gardens with her Quran on her tablet opened to Surah Al-Kahf. Outside, she saw her father and recovering Orisa take a stroll together, but as she observed them closer, she watched her father's tenderness for his young wife and the way he paid close attention to her words and her quiet.

I don't understand this. Her hands tightened when she saw her father shuttle Orisa into a secluded part to lift her veil. Does he actually love her? It doesn't make any sense. I could understand why he would use her for his own personal gain, but… He's so gentle with her.

Her jaw tightened. He never even showed my mother the same courtesy. Instead, he killed her because of who she was—a descendant of Prophet Zarqā. She looked at her empty palm. Just as I am a descendant. And… She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. When she reopened her eyes, she saw the little sand tornado tickling her skin. I have been chosen as the next Custodian, someone to protect my God Slayer.

She released her power and gripped her hand into a fist. There's so much that still doesn't make sense. I still haven't had any time to process it all. I don't know how to properly control my powers or what this all means to be a Custodian. And lastly, I haven't heard anything from Yara about Yaya's escape. She took a terse breath. But she needs to escape. We need to get her safe. She's the last Fertility God Slayer. The sheer power she has in her hands…

"O-Oh! Assalam Alaikum, Ya Sheikha!"

Fatimah blinked when she saw an awkward male servant stumbled into the rotunda with gloves on as he shuffled a book cart. He looks…familiar. "Wa ʿalaykumu s-salam," she greeted. "Jumu'ah Mubārak."

"Jumu'ah Mubārak," the servant said back. "I-I didn't realize you were here, but I can come back later—"

"Ah, no, you're all right." Fatimah smiled guiltily as she showed her tablet. "I haven't even made it to halfway, so I should find a new place to finish up before khutbah." She glanced back into the gardens and her stomach twisted seeing Orisa and her father. Even sick, she insisted on joining him for a walk. I need to find a way to get her to separate from him. I'm sorry, Yaya, but he's not the kind man you think he is.

She got up from the window, but she was nearly spooked when the servant stood before her. "Um… Yes?"

"Ya Sheikha…" The servant fiddled with his hands. "It's just… You seem a bit under the weather."

Fatimah blinked. "Pardon me?"

"Well…" The servant swallowed. "You and Her Majesty both look a little pale. I speak humbly as your servant when I say…perhaps you should stay at the estate to recover while everyone else attends prayer."

That stunned Fatimah. What? She clutched her tablet. I see. So now, I've become the princess too sick in the head to even go to a mosque? "I understand your concern for your princess' mental health as a citizen of Shamballa," she said, cold, "and I appreciate it, but you have crossed a line. I am in perfect health to attend." She moved past him—

"Your Highness."

Fatimah was ready to lash out when he grabbed her arm. "Unhand me—"

"I meant what I said, Your Highness."

Fatimah froze when all the servant's bumbling whipped into an intense, unreadable feeling as he stared down at her.

"You look unwell, Your Highness," the servant rumbled. "Her Majesty will be the only one of the immediate Emirati royal family to abstain from attending prayer. His Majesty and His Royal Highness will continue to attend." He tightened his grip. "I believe it's in your best interest to stay home." He let her go and went back to his tasks.

Fatimah could not move with her mind trying to catch up with the present. What…? What did he…? She reached for him only to falter as the pieces made a complete puzzle. Yaya will be alone while everyone attends prayer. This… This is our chance to escape. She looked at the busy servant with new eyes. "Who are you? And why do you look familiar?"

"I am a humble servant of the Morgiana Estate, Your Highness," the servant said, even. "But I believe you overheard me when I mentioned the servants have bets placed for Her Majesty's child's names."

It hit Fatimah, the memory. "You were with the maids," she breathed.

"Yes."

Fatimah blinked and blinked some more. I… I don't understand…

He went to put a book away when Fatimah gripped his wrist and stopped him with a demanding glare. "Yes, Ya Sheikha?"

"Who are you?" Fatimah asked, low and commanding. "We both know you're more than a servant."

He stared down at her.

Fatimah's heart lurched when she saw ones and zeroes stream across his eyes, and she let him go fast. Akh!

"Authorization approved and recognized from the Games Master." The servant turned to Fatimah fully and the data in his eyes drained away. "I was placed here as a servant of the Morgiana Estate under the Operation Code Name: Oshun under human alias 'Khadir'. But I was given another name."

Fatimah felt ice in her veins when he loomed over her.

"I am Pasban Zero-Zero-Two-C." His eyes changed from human to analytical. "We should talk, Your Highness."

---

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

Fairy Adventure

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

---

"Sissy!"

Her blearily opened her eyes—

SHINSHIN!

Snowfall.

Julia recognized she was sitting beneath a tree with the grass cleared around her, yet snow dominated this hill with bright blue skies and a white sun. She saw Silver only a handful of years old happily playing in the snow as he stole back the white mass into its liquid, watery form.

He beamed at Julia, missing a front tooth. "See? I did it!"

"Good job!" Gary was there, barely counting as a teenager, and he looked at home among the snow and ice as he built a snowman. "Hey, Julia! Can you come and turn Silver's water into an icy nose for our snowman?"

She sighed and complained, "Why do I have to? I was finally getting sleep." She sweatdropped when her brothers' puppy eyes came out. 'They sure know how to guilt trip me.' She got up and dusted off her legs. "Hold on. I'm coming." She looked up—

"Well done, Nightingale."

Julia's heart turned to molten lava.

Hunters surrounded Gary and Silver with their Mauthes hungry and eyes gleaming. They stood in abundance, the entire pack of them, with their weapons of choice sharpened and eager for flesh. A sniffling Silver clinging to his older brother for protection. Gary looked just as scared, but he clutched his younger brother to him as he bravely looked at the sharp weapons that could lead to an ill fate.

Maxim stepped forward with his little novel of The Count of Monte Cristo in hand and Drawback stood as his shadow. "Well now. We've finally captured the Devil," he drawled. "And it's all thanks to your cooperation, Nightingale."

Julia sprinted forward with blood pumping in her ears and her heart thundering. 'No, no, no, I didn't—!'

"Yes, Master."

Julia stared at Nightingale when she emerged from the pack in her black suit. Opposites, they were, as if Julia had been water yet Nightingale was black ice. 'No… No…' Static clicked in her ears as she watched herself—watched Nightingale—stand with her pack and look at her brothers—Julia's brothers; their brothers—like they were nothing more than insects off her shoes.

"Sissy," Silver whimpered.

Nightingale tipped her head, but she did not acknowledge him.

Maxim put a hand on Nightingale's shoulder. "You've caught such unique prey. It's only fair"—he presented her a black handgun—"that you get the kill shot."

Nightingale took the gun and felt the Anti-Ether synch into her veins. "Yes, Master."

Julia's feet kickstarted into action when Nightingale pointed the gun at Gary and a crying Silver. 'No.' She ran faster. 'No.' She sprinted. 'No—!'

BAKI!

An ice barrier separated her from her brothers, but she kept banging and banging in the hopes it would give. "No, no, no!" she screamed. "Don't you dare touch them! Don't touch them!"

Silver broke into a scream when one Hunter tore him from Gary's arm, but no matter how much he flailed and scratched, his captor would not let him go. "Sissy!" he sobbed. "Help me!"

"No!" Julia violently slammed against the barrier. "Let them go! Let them go!"

"Julia!" A teary Gary struggled as four Hunters held him down and restrained him. He fought them off as he shed his human skin for his Devil Form, but he screamed when the Mauthes bit at his flesh. Through all his wrestling and crying, he reached for Julia. "Julia, help us! Save us!"

"Let them go!" Hot tears raked her face as she punched the barrier, as she watched the Hunters break the two people she worked so hard to keep whole. "Get away from them! Don't you dare touch them—!"

"Julia? Why didn't you tell me you know him?"

Julia halted.

Tesla stood naked in the snow, but she was not shivering from the cold. Her braids looked tossed and tugged and abused with revolting bites marks on her breasts, but she remained captive to the shadowed monster that loomed over her with her same steely-gray eyes. Yet while her own regard looked so deadened, the monster's stare looked obsessed. And slowly, his darkness consumed her into him.

She reached a hand for Julia. "Julia…" She was drowning—that monster was drowning her, forcing her to be his slave—and no one could do a thing about it. "Why did you lead him to me?"

Julia tried to move, but her knees buckled, and she fell into the snow. "I didn't," she whispered, trembling. "I-I didn't… I didn't mean to…"

"Sissy!" A teenage Silver sobbed as Hunters shoved his head into the snow while they restrained his arms. "Help me! Help me!"

"Don't take me back there!" A frantic Gary fought with everything he had against the Hunters. "Kill me!" One gripped his jaw and dry-ice dears burned down his cheeks. "Julia please, just kill me! Don't let them take me there!"

"Julia…" Tesla smiled with only her face, neck, and chest visibly as the monster devoured her. "You lead him to me."

LUBDUBLUBDUBLUBDUBLUBDUB!

The cries, the screams, the whispers, the whimpers—they orchestrated a discordant melody that ripped at Julia's ears and stabbed her heart repeatedly. The cold she once welcome felt so foreign now, like it rejected her and spitefully chewed on her flesh. Her being was split in two. She needed to save them—all of them—but her body chained her down to the ground and forced her mind prisoner, forced her to watch this chaos and she was the catalyst.

LUBDUBLUBDUBLUBDUBLUBDUB!

Her tear melted into the snow.

Some people thought it was freeing to feel removed from their body, but it felt like a punishment to Julia like her body had abandoned her. Her heartbeat's allegro tempo muffled the cries and pleas of her loved ones, but her eyes were forced to watch this tragedy. Her body would no longer allow her to take control.

"Oh, Little Julianna."

Nightingale loomed over Julia like a callous giant, a cocked gun in her hand and her eyes chilling. She did not care how Gary sobbed for someone to kill him, how Silver cried for someone to save him, how Tesla drowned in her father's disgusting presence. She looked at Child Julia with ice blue eyes.

The Hunter was now the Hunted.

"I don't need your pathetic self-righteousness dragging me down from the mission." Nightingale pointed the gun at Julia.

For a moment, when Julia looked into the barrel, she saw her life before. She saw the innocent memories of her childhood, of how carefree her love for her family had been, of how she made shapes in water and ice just to make Silver giggle, and how she matched Gary on the ice to make him proud. How fragile that life had been. And for as happy as these memories should have made her, all they did was make her feel suffocated.

Because the ones she vowed to protect were the ones she now betrayed.

"You were so strong." Nightingale tipped her head. "But compared to me?" Her thumb pulled the trigger:

GA!

Julia was throttled into a void.

A whisper tickled her ear. "So weak."

• — • — • — • — •

"Nnngh… Nnngh… Geh! Ah!"

Dressed in a loose blouse and athletic pants, Yara hovered a feverish Julia with heavy concern in her eyes. A few potion bottles and ice took up space on the nightstand, and the employees had been understanding about needing fresh towels, but Julia still sweated through the pillowcases and sheets as tears dripped down her face and her fingers clawed at her blanket.

"Gah-ah! Nnngh!"

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

Burj Al'umi Hotel

Shamballa City

Shamballa, Alakitasia

09:37 SST

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

Yara checked Julia's temperature with a quick spell. Thankfully, her fever is down enough that it's regulated. But before, it was high enough for potential brain damage. I'm fortunate I carried the pouch Heinrich gave me.

"Nnngh… Ha…"

Yara deeply frowned as Julia strained herself, turning her head this way and that. Gale said she's been like this ever since she collapsed. I've seen this before. I understand Wizards are very mature for their age, but… Her dark blues glinted. In the end, they're still children. This poor girl… She became a Hunter. What sort of horrors did she have to witness for such immeasurable power?

She fled the bedroom with one final glance at Julia. As she closed the door, she felt Gale close. "She's recovering. I'm doing all I can, but considering she's a Hunter, potions will take an absurd amount of time and dosage to reach her. But she'll heal." She looked at him and caught no trace of emotion. He looks so unreadable. Her hands clenched. Have I been pushing these children too hard?

"Thank you," Gale murmured. "I'll make sure to compensate you—"

"Please don't," Yara dismissed with a brittle smile. "I'm not a licensed Healer anymore, and any true Healer will never accept payment for doing the work we were called to do. And besides"—she looked down—"I…wouldn't feel right accepting payment from any of you, all things considered." All I wanted was to bring back Their Majesties, but if this is the price I must pay—

"Don't go regretting sighing us up for this now, lady."

Yara stiffened before chuckling with no humor. "Am I that easy to ready?"

"Lady J and I signed up for this." Gale would not budge. "We understood the risks. You don't need to throw yourself a pity party. And we were fucked up before we came to this country. So don't think you're the cause of all this." He turned away. "We need to get back."

Yara's teeth gritted. "But you're only children!"

Gale halted.

"You're only children, you…!" Yara's trembling anger turned to anguish. "You're all just…children. This…shouldn't be your fight. This was never your fight. The adults around you should be handling this and we all just…keep failing you. What sort of adults are we if we force children to fight our battles for us?" Her hands shook. Orisa, Johann—you were only kids when all this happened. How could I let this happen?

"Shut up."

Yara blinked before looking at Gale's rigid back.

"Maybe to you, we're just 'children', but to a lot of people, we're a lot more," Gale rumbled. "People like me and Lady J are more than 'kids'. The adults around us didn't 'fail' us; they helped us become who are and recognized the world is too terrible of a place for us to be complicit. If we have the power for change, we can't be childish and hide behind that façade. We need to stand our ground." He pivoted to her. "My parents did right teaching me about responsibility. And if I shy away from it, I failed them. Right now, you're my responsibility. And I'm going to see this through to the end."

Yara's bottom lip quivered. How can he say that? How can a child say that? He's barely seen the world. He can't… He couldn't possibly know…

Gale turned away from her. "So when you're ready, you can come join 'the big kids' in planning the Emira and second princess' escape. I told you I accepted this job." He walked away. "And I'll make sure you all leave this country."

Her trembling lips pulled back, terse. How can he say that? How can he be that arrogant? His companion is lying sick because of this foolishness. He… He doesn't understand the risks he's making. She reached for his wrist. "Wait—!"

Gale sharply turned back to her.

"Yara."

Her eyes widened when she saw Johann before her, a hardened teenager, and he spoke with Gale: "Let me go."

Yara's hand slipped from his wrist.

Gale turned away and the image of Johann faded.

Her entire body trembled before she slackened to her knees with her eyes wide and lips pressed together. I… I…

Gale's ears twitched when he heard Yara's quiet tears and restrained cries, but he did not go back to comfort her. We have to keep moving forward so we can get out of this fucking country. His reds softened. Lady J… We'll get you home.

He made it back to the living room with Swan, Swan's trophies, Thirteen, and Cassowary waiting. A multi-level holographic map of all of Shamballa displayed on the coffee table.

"How is she?" Thirteen asked, showered, shaved, and with fresh clothes on.

Gale sat on the opposite couch. "She'll be struck from this operation," he determined. "I'll make sure the hotel is notified of her status, so we won't need to worry about her." He focused on the map. "Are you sure about this plan, though, and the routes we're taking? It feels convenient with the tunnel system beneath the estate."

"It was a common thing for many royal castles and estates," Swan said with their feathered fan. "Catacombs, tunnels—they were always secret routes for royal families to take in case of an invasion. Lucky for us, Shamballans built a nationwide tunnel system—a Labyrinth. And only those with the blessing of the three chief goddesses could freely walk without potentially dying."

Gale looked at them. "And your source has the blessing?"

"A God's Blessing in a physical sense, yes," Swan alluded. "When the gods interacted with mortals, they Blessed those worthy around them, such as royal families. Thankfully, when the gods shut their doors, they left behind blessed treasures that only royals and those in families derived from demigods and Champions would have as heirlooms. Our source has one. And we need to make sure to return it in good condition."

Gale nodded. "And my powers will work down there?"

"We're banking on it," Thirteen said, honest. "Your powers are undeniable. The Magic in the stone might be enchanted, but you are our best bet to control it."

"Understood," Gale said. "And when are we leaving?"

"In sixty," Thirteen decided. "We need to get to the rendezvous point right as the religious activities are starting. Once we have confirmed the royal family made it to the mosque, we'll start the main chunk of the operation. And after that, we'll be heading home."

Gale nodded. 'Home'…

Swan got up with their trophies ready to wait on their hand and foot. "Well, if you don't mind me, I'm going to head to my suite to dote on my little lambs before we have to work all night." They stroked both men's cheeks. "I'm sorry, loves. No slitted dress for you this weekend, but what about next weekend?" They smiled when their men kissed their knuckles with heat in their gazes. "Now, now, there are children present, my little doves."

"I'm sixteen," Gale muttered.

"And still a baby." Swan twisted to look back at Gale. "Though you really are the spitting image of Redeye. I wonder"—their dark blues swirled—"how did Redeye manage to keep such a talented little harpy eagle secret from even the Deathhawk?"

Gale tensed.

Swan dramatically sighed. "Oh, well. Not my business. Let's go—Oh!" They laughed when one of their trophies lifted them into a bridal carry. They kissed his cheek. "Gently, baby, your master is still a little sore." As their trophies escorted them out, Swan called offhandedly, "If anyone needs me, my mouth might be too stuffed for actual assistance, so don't bother me."

Thirteen rubbed his face while Gale watched as Swan and their trophies left. "Who exactly are those men with him? Her? Them?" He blanched when he saw an outline of Cassowary, but the plague doctor was gone. And when did he leave?

"Them," Thirteen supplied, bone tired. "Those two men actually kidnapped Swan for a trafficking ring. But apparently, Swan's amazing personality managed to convert them into human servants." He shook his head. "They're legally wedded. Don't ask me how that happened. I had to be a witness. Swan was a nightmare about their wedding dress." His eyes softened. "In our line of work, relationships aren't advised. But those two men… They're not just skilled; they would die for Swan. I'm not sure why or how they became so loyal, but"—his words tendered—"I know they love them. And I'm happy at least one of us has that."

Quiet.

"Why was my dad a part of Deathhawk?"

Thirteen closed his eyes and sighed at Gale's quiet question. "If there's one thing you need to understand, it's that Vicious doesn't want his inner circle to be here because he threatened them and even loyalty is just a bonus." He looked at Gale square in the eyes. "He doesn't make an offer you can't refuse. There's no coercion into joining his flock. We joined for benefits we wanted, and he didn't refuse—if we were worth it."

Gale's hands locked together. "Do you know what my dad wanted?"

"I don't, even to this day," Thirteen confessed, honest. "You don't ask those sorts of questions. And your dad, like me, was a special case. Red Eye wasn't technically a bird of the flock. Vicious took him in when he was a kid and never pressured him to do anything he didn't want to do. He asked your dad if he wanted to do something, and your dad complied when it was of his interest."

Gale's jaw clenched. "And he left because?"

Thirteen lifted his chin. "You're asking me a lot of questions, kid. But the only one who can answer them is your dad, not me."

Gale growled, "I know that, but I—!" His knuckles whitened as he struggled to control all the emotions wanting to surface. I knew he was in Phantom Lord. I knew he worked under a shit Red Mage like Jose, but this? The Wild wanted to confront its sire, muzzle to muzzle. Did he kill people because it was fun for him? Did he hurt innocent people? I don't know anymore. And as much as I want the answer—his heart cracked—I don't know how much I can take right now.

Thirteen got up and murmured, "You have thirty minutes. Use it wisely."

Gale tightly nodded.

Thirteen abandoned the suite and released a sigh. Vicious… I never understood why you allowed Gajeel into your nest. But now I'm starting to understand. He walked down the hall. Because there's one thing that others outside of the main flock know about you. People think your Voice is your most powerful asset. But it isn't. His eyes hardened. Your Deathhawk is.

---

The busier a place, the more a person could act as a chameleon—hiding in plain sight.

Fridays were universally a busy day, and this was no exception. Many came out to scope out sales, shop around the streets, and meet up with their groups. Considering the massive talent promoted for tonight's charity concert, there was no shortage of excitement in the air.

The café might have looked like a hole-in-the-wall establishment, but a wait had built up since everyone knew this café for its western beignets and southern hospitality. No one could understand what would make the owner want to open a restaurant in Shamballa and so far from the states, but considering hundreds to thousands flocked to such a homey restaurant for the comfort food and fresh beignets, it was more surprising such an inherently and traditionally southern restaurant had this receptive of an audience in Alakitasia.

Vinyl took to sitting in a busy middle section with a table all to her lonesome. The hostess had been nice and tried to offer her a booth away from the crowd, but at Vinyl's insistence, she was seated right smack-dab in the middle of all the noise. People-watchers and gossipers would have a field day in her position. The table to her right of her must have come out of some telenovela with the dramatic break-up monologue happening. A group of large (misogynistic) westerners sat all together with their get me another one, honey and for that smile, you'll get an extra tip, but they humbled themselves when they realized their server was a femme-presenting non-binary.

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

Café Tiana

Shamballa City

Shamballa, Alakitasia

10:14 SST

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

Viny had her leather journal open as she wrote down notes with her EarPods in. She played back the track listed as UNKNOWN to get a better feeling for which instruments she felt appropriate for which stanza, where musicality needed adjustment, and when to conduct versus when to let the artist lead.

As she stuffed in some more of her beignet, she remarked, I see why Genius chose this song. It's really raw and emotional. The lyrics are very personal—I can tell that much—but… Her lips twisted. As for the singer… I trust Genius' word, but… A song like this needs the right singer to reach people's hearts. I'm not sure just anyone could sing this, even artists with celebrity status. And for this song to steal the charity concert…

"La lalaaaa, laalalaalalaa…"

Vinyl remembered such a haunting melody. But Key… She could sing a song like this. Her heart song—her soul song—it's so…captivating. Many talented singers, indie and professional, have that "it" factor that gives you an earworm, but her voice…

"La lalaaaa, laalalaalalaa…"

Vinyl closed her eyes. I really just want to ask her to lend me her voice and sing this for me. I don't know why, but… My powers react to her in a way I've never seen. Great Auntie would have loved her, I think. Her lashes parted, blues gentle. Thirteen might like her too.

She looked to her right and faced the street and all its pedestrians, yet she saw no sign of him. I hope he's all right. I left a note in the hotel room that I'd be out late. She smiled a bit pityingly. He probably won't care. I just…hope he's safe.

She stiffened when she heard an eerie melody touch her ears. I can hear…

"Viñella."

Vinyl squared her shoulders. "Hello"—she looked up, eyes hard—"Vespers."

Vespers looked fashionable with his sunglasses in his hair and his blazer hanging off his shoulders. All designer brands, of course, from his watch to his boat shoes, and when he smiled, he made sure those pearly whites showed. "You look a little lonely over here, and I'm a little lonely myself. Care to have some company and a chat?"

Vinyl sniffed, "Not really—"

"Great!"

TICK!

Vinyl fumed on the inside as Vespers sat opposite of her and charmed a server to bring him some tea and his own beignets. If only murder were legal.

Once the server left, Vespers crossed his legs and plucked off his shades to sigh. "I don't know how you like traveling around alone. I was having such fun with Salentino." He laid out his hands in a shrug. "But then it all got frittered away when he had to head back home for something urgent for work. Because, as you know, my boyfriend is a reach CEO."

Vinyl pretended she stomped all over Vespers' beloved watch, but she plastered on a fake smile. "I do know. And good for you. Since you'll never be the head of your family, it's nice you took up gold-digging to make up for your lack of inheritance."

Vespers' smile sharpened. "An inheritance you would have shared if you hadn't acted like a spoiled little girl and gotten married."

"Unlike you, I'm not complicit when I'm being sold to the highest bidder for wealth and status," Vinyl recounted.

Vespers chuckled. "You say the most hurtful things, Viñella. But I won't throw down a glove. It wouldn't be fair for me to act as crass as you. But then again"—his smile widened—"I'm quite angry you're the reason my boyfriend broke up with me."

The server returned and laid out Vespers' tea and beignets.

A tense silence smacked the table.

Vinyl sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, a cool regard in those blues. "I'm surprised you haven't used blackmail to punish him for such a heinous act like you did to your other exes. What's wrong, Vespers? Mummy and Daddy aren't letting you throw a temper tantrum again?"

Vespers rested his chin on a propped hand. "You had no right, Viñella. You overstepped your boundaries."

"I didn't overstep anything." She sounded bored, and she knew it got to him when his free hand twitched. "Because you already did that when you brainwashed him. Was it fun for you, Vespers, taking advantage of a brainwashed man? Oh, wait, I forgot. That's the only way anyone can stand to be around you."

"I've been nice, Viñella," Vespers murmured, smile there and eyes ice-cold. "But you have no idea what you are interfering with."

Vinyl leaned forward and rumbled in reply, "I could say the same thing to you, spare."

Vespers' smile dropped and all that boyish suave fell for an ugly glower. "You have no idea what or who you are dealing with, Viñella, and you'll regret overstepping."

"Are you trying to threaten me?" Vinyl daresay looked amused. "Is that what this is? You thought you could intimidate me and make me beg for forgiveness?"

"You trembled before your fiancé," Vespers spat, "so we both know you have it in you to be a scared little thing fearing the monsters under her bed."

She did not flinch back from the verbal slap; she held her head up high. "If we're making threats, then it's my turn." She leaned even closer until she was centimeters away from Vespers' face. "Your plan for the Emira will fail. And it won't be because of me. It will be because you'll never deserve anything, spare."

Vespers pulled away. "I thought we could have a productive conversation, but it would seem you've become well-adapted to the uncultured life of being a commoner." He got to his feet and fished out a few notes to drip onto the table. "I hope you enjoy the concert tonight, Viñella." His eyes swirled with an arrogant Curse. "It'll be your last." And he breezed away.

Vinyl tracked him as he left the café, her jaw set. He's acting like a damn child not getting his way. But the fact that he came here instead of blackmailing Salentino to his side says something about him, and I think I struck a nerve.

She picked back up her pen. His parents used to spoil him and went along with his whims. But he's always been the spare and not the heir. Something must've happened for his parents to stop enabling him. That's why he came here. He's losing his cool with his plans derailed. Salentino was his in to Chace. But if I think about it more, consider Salentino's wealth and family, Vespers' brother would have likely been able to communicate with him.

"Precious baby screech, think back to all your interactions with your dear fiancé." Swan's purred words. "And see him through the eyes of a grown adult instead of a scared child."

Vinyl chewed on her pen bottom. To be honest, what Swan said pissed me off. But Vespers coming here… It makes me think back to his brother. Vespers being the spare cost him a lot, but his brother being the heir to the Vivaldi family… Vespers could have played the baby brother angle and gotten his brother to enable him. But growing up, I don't think Vespers really interacted with his brother. I don't think it was out of spite on his part either. It might've been because his brother didn't want to be around him.

Dark navies. "Viñella."

Vinyl did not tremble in remembrance of her ex-fiancé and his imposing figure. She tried to separate the feelings of her youth from the memory. Look at him as a grown adult… If I have to be honest, yes, I was afraid of him, but… I wasn't afraid of him until my friends at the time convinced me I'd end up in some abusive marriage. I always thought he'd become like one of those husbands after hearing all those horror stories, but… He never did anything to me.

That made Vinyl want to stand up and sit down from the revelation. He…never did anything to me. I just thought he would, but… He never did.

She blinked down at her sheet music. Vespers' brother, my ex-fiancé… Did I really know anything about him other than he was the heir to the Vivaldi family? Why did he and Vespers never spend any time together? Even his family boasted about his accomplishments, but… I don't think I remember seeing many pictures of him or him even living at their estate. So I wonder…

She put her pen back to the sheet music. What type of person are you…Vincenzo Vivaldi?

---

The gifts sent to the Emira of Shamballa were endless, but the servants made sure the doors to the queen's reception room were shut and her gifts organized while Orisa rested in her bed. A fever broke about her skin, and Kamir rolled up his sleeves to plot her forehead while the maids waited outside. All the rich brown of Orisa's skin grayed and the hollow, sunken lines in her face were more prominent no matter what potions the Healer tried.

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

— • — • — • —

Morgiana Estate

Shamballa City

Shamballa, Alakitasia

11:05 SST

— • — • — • —

• — • — • — • — • — • — • — • — •

Kamir put back the cloth to take hold of Orisa's hand and looked at her weak form in concern. "The walk was too much for you—"

"I'm okay, Kamir." Orisa offered a small smile. "I needed the exercise. Sunlight is good for me."

"You can get sunlight in the sunroom, not like this," Kamir gruffly put.

Orisa frailly laughed. "You worry too much. I thought I was the younger one?"

Kamir thumbed her cheek and emotion flickered in his eyes when she closed her own and wetly breathed in. "Orisa—" He stopped and started quieter, "If you tell me you are pregnant now, I will have a private Healer Vow to me and help you terminate it."

Her lips lifted. "I'm not pregnant."

"Orisa—"

"I'm not pregnant." She opened her eyes to show scraps of resolve in those gold-oranges. "I told you this before. I'm not. I'm just tired, Kamir." She rested her eyes again. "I'm so tired."

Kamir caressed her jaw before placing a kiss on her forehead. "Then sleep, ya helo," he murmured. "Sleep and dream. I will return to feed you after the luncheon."

Orisa cracked opened her eyes, pained. "There's no need for that, Kamir—"

"You are my wife," Kamir reminded her, stern. "Even if it was in-name-only, you are still my responsibility, ya helo. I won't let you suffer alone." He pressed a finger to her lips when she started protesting. "You need your rest." His lips quirked seeing Orisa's eyes gloss over. "Why do you cry?"

"Because I'm not worth this," Orisa whispered. "You've already done so much for me, Kamir." A tear leaked. "I don't know how to repay you for all of it."

Kamir thumbed her bottom lip. "All you must do is stay my wife," he rumbled. "And that's enough for me." He chuckled when Orisa pressed her lips together as more warm tears slid down. "Don't cry like this, Orisa. I don't have the time to comfort you."

"I'm sorry," Orisa croaked.

"You're tired." Kamir offered a tender kiss on her lips. "So sleep, ya helo. I'll come back for you after prayer. And this weekend, your husband will be here at your side."

"But you can't," Orisa rasped. "You're the Emir."

"And I am nothing without my Emira." Kamir did not mention when Orisa glanced down and looked like she wanted to protest. "Go to sleep. The maids will take care of you." He got off the bed and swept to the doors. He did not pay the maids any mind when they bowed and murmured their greetings, but he was all too aware of the footsteps following him as he made his way out of the queen's apartments.

"You seem to be such a loving husband to my stepmother, Father."

Kamir did not give his son physical attention, but he muttered warningly, "And your shameful lust towards your stepmother is killing her, Son."

Zayed sneered. "Let's not pretend I'm not the only one enjoying her in my chambers." He did not falter when his father stopped and pivoted, matching his son's hostility with his own. Zayed smirked. "Should we play a game to see which one of us is the father?"

"When your mother birthed you, she called you a 'monster'." Kamir narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps that was too weak of a word for something like you."

"Because you're such a model man of faith?" Zayed countered, his Curse flaring in his eyes. "You put her at my feet when you came home flaunting your newly groomed wife. Was I supposed to reject the first gift you've ever given me?"

"You're still not the crowned prince of this country," Kamir reminded, cold. "So watch what you say to me, boy."

Zayed sharply laughed. "Because you think Haya is the better choice? Or fucked up Fatiii? No." He went toe to toe with his father and hissed, "You need me to become the crowned prince."

"Do I?" Kamir raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you want to play a game of fatherhood? The next ruler of Shamballa could be with my wife as we speak. And unlike you three failures, my child with my wife will be worth something."

"She isn't your wife!"

Kamir stayed cool when Zayed's Curse flared and pressured him. He could feel the spindles of his own darkness free from his tight cage and press back against Zayed. "Your temper tantrums are becoming more and more childish to deal with," he remarked, icy. "So let me say this closely, boy." He gripped Zayed's chin and met his son's eyes, cold against cruel. "No matter how many times you sneak into her chambers when you think my back is turned, no matter how many times you can't control your lust and force her to take you—you are still nothing more than a little boy with nothing to your name while she is still my property."

His grip went bruising. "And which one of us gives her a child is of little consequence because she's my wife. Maybe it's your child in her, maybe it's mine." His eyes darkened to show his Curse. "But as king, I will claim it and her as mine."

Zayed growled and ripped away from his father to storm away.

Kamir straightened his sleeves. What a distasteful child. His mother always feared him. The Pasbans would report to me he was deeply disturbed. I guess Orisa's presence allowed him to focus his revolting personality on something. But it's of little consequence. Such a naïve child, showing me his hand. The more he obsesses over Orisa, the more I understand what can control him. And if I have to use her, so be it.

He called, "I know you're there, Fatimah."

Silence.

Fatimah came out with her head lowered.

Kamir approached his daughter and looked down the bridge of his nose at her. He lifted his hand—

She flinched.

Kamir feathered down her hair. "I was told you will not be coming with us to the mosque since you aren't feeling well," he murmured, not expecting a response. "My wife isn't well either. For both your sakes, I'll ensure you have servants assisting you." He tipped her chin for their eyes to meet. "So you'll have no reason to go wandering."

Fatimah tried to keep his stare, but she dropped her regard to the side and feebly agreed, "Yes, Baba."

"Good." Kamir dropped his hand, but he leaned close to whisper in his daughter's ear, "I don't care what you've heard or seen just now. Because we both know who the people believe. I approve of you playing nice with your new mother, but should you try to act as possessive as Zayed is with her and think she's yours in any way, you can join your birth mother and I'll ensure you leave just as she did."

He pulled back to smile at Fatimah's haunted look. "Relax, Fatii, it's Jumuʿah." He passed his daughter and patted her on the shoulder. "Inshallah, we will have a day to remember."

Fatimah's head lowered as she listened to her father leave. "Yes, Baba." Sand coiled around her hands until she pressed her nails into her palms. She lifted her head—

Bright blues.

She looked at the sand roping around her fingers like snakes. She could feel each grain against her skin, that power warming her with its song, that feeling of protection toward her Slayer. Her eyes glowed. "Inshallah."

---

— • — • — • —

Starry Sky nemurenai yoru nee aitai yo aitai yo

Kirameita ittousei osaekirenai kimi e no omoi wo

•

Gyutto dakishimete mou hanasanaide

"aishiteru" dake ga zutto kagayaki tsuzukeru

— • — • — • —

---

The aviary was his favorite place to be. The birds kept to themselves, happy and preening in such a large cage. They groomed each other, chattered, and played. A few of the fledglings were running amuck as they tested out their flight endurance, the silly birds. An owl and its mate rested in their little nook. A couple of Andüsan Greys seemed to be having a debate of some sort. And the cockatoos were as crazy as ever, egging each other on like they do.

But the birds quieted when the Deathhawk flew in.

It was not as if the flock feared this powerful bird with the galaxy mooning its eyes, but a Deathhawk carried something about it with its presence. It commanded submission and silence, no speaking unless spoken to. As it descended, it circled before flapping its wings and landing on its master's shoulder.

A smile. "Is that so?"

Vicious sat at his Victorian little table with some tea and cakes. A beaten-up copy of Comedìa held his intrigue today. He reached for a treat in his pocket and fed it to his Deathhawk. With claws like that, most would be fearful the bird would eat their finger, but the Deathhawk was surprisingly graceful in accepting his treat and ate it with care. It burred again.

"How interesting." Vicious caressed his Deathhawk as he looked at his compact book. Well, well, well… I may see something fascinating. His fingers dipped into his coat pocket to bring out a black balled candy, but his eyes were pinned onto the painted portrait La Commedia Illumina Firenze with Dante standing in the hellscape he crafted.

He brought the candy to his lips. Let's see which way you turn out this time—he popped in the candy—Horned God. He bit down—

CRACK.

---

Voices of Characters in Order of Appearance

— • — • — • —

The Auctioneer – Kent Williams

The Young Master – Derrick Snow

T.A.D.A.S.H.I. – Greg Chun

Swan – Kayleigh McKee

Yara Sandström – Katharine T. Gray

Thirteen – Matthew Mercer

Vinyl – Alison Viktorin

Genius – Derrick Snow

Julia Fullbuster – Michelle Ruff

Gary Fullbuster (Child) – Ryan Reynolds

Silver Fullbuster (Child) – Alison Viktorin

Gale Redfox – Greg Cipes

Sycaña – Christine Auten

Mogwai / Bei Chunhua – Kesley Asbille

Fatimah bint Kamir Al Marwan – Summer Bishill

Tesla Greer – Galena White

Vespers Vivaldi -

Kamir bin Kwuyalid Al arwin -

Orisa / Inayah – Chipo Chung

Zayed bin Kamir Al Marwan – Fay del-Sayed

Vicious – Skip Stellrecht

— • — • — • —

Additional Voices

Opening Narrator – Mary McGlynn

Description Narrator – Mary McGlynn

Closing Narrator – Melissa Fahn

— • — • — • —

⌜OPENING SONG

⟪ SAYONARA DILEMMA ⟫

Vivid undress

Lyrics by

yu-ya⌟

•

⌜ENDING SONG

⟪ Starry ⟫

ClariS

Lyrics by

丸山真由子⌟

---

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— • — • — • —

Next time, on Fairy Adventure

•

Episode 149

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LEND ME YOUR VOICE

— • — • — • —

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WE'RE ALL IN THE ENDGAME NOW

---

Chibi-Luna makes a peace sign. "Good day, class!"

"Good day, Teacher!" her students chorus. "What's our Fairy Lesson of the day?"

"Today's Fairy Lesson is"—Chibi-Luna reveals a small crystal ball on the workbench—"about a Lacrima Message Sphere or a MemoSphere!"

"Hooray for Lacrima!"

Chibi-Luna cups the little crystal ball. "MemoSpheres differ from InstaLetters as they record a person's message and can be bought for different lengths of time. MemoSpheres or MSes were actually invented long ago by indigenous tribes to communicate with other tribes and pass along messages of war. But they grew popular for last will and testimony messages to speeches. Fast track to today, and they're used for everything from love letters to Dear John letters!"

"Hooray for magical advancement!"

PINPON!

"That's the bell!" Chibi-Luna puts down the MS. "And now a quick word from the other!"

•

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I wanted to post this yesterday, but here we are at 10 pm EST!

You didn't think Cullen was just a simple Shadower with no backstory, did you? I hate how this concept came before I read Shadow House, but thankfully, after I compared Shadowers to the Shadow House characters, there were too many differences outside of them both being living shadows. The Auctioneer is also a great antagonist in the future, and I enjoy Cullen so much.

Eden Zero and Rave Master are both connected to my story, but if you read the recent chapters of Eden Zero, FA does not follow the specific plot and antagonist EZ set up. Both share the elements of Mothers absolutely and are a big focal point, but that is it.

The revised edition of Fairy Adventure on AO3 will have consistent Sunday (EST) updates because of a huge episode backlog, but those revised episodes will transfer once I hit the Festival of Gratitude Arc. I hope those of you who have been reading the Fairy Adventure 2022 Revised Edition on AO3 have been enjoying it and the new complexities added, and I thank you for your support. If you are reading the Hallow's Eve arc on AO3, you may understand Vicious' words a bit better.

I will be starting my last fall semester next week, but Lend Me Your Voice Parts I and II may be combined into one part now that I had to shift things around during FA's second saga. My backlog of 400+ episodes will change as I adjust to the plotlines of EZ and FT: 100 Years Quest. Thankfully, the ending of this longfic is already plotted, but I need to match as much continuity as possible.

I appreciate everyone's support on AO3 and FFN. Thank you for your patience. Inshallah, let's meet in the next episode.

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Chibi-Luna waves. "That's it for today! See you next time on Fairy Adventure!"