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Chapter Text

Tyrion was angry. Now that wasn't necessary out of the ordinary for an Asur like him, but this was an exceptional instance. It was getting to the point where even a dragon may be disquieted by the looks he would give people. And really, who could blame him for it? After all, Ulthuan was under attack. Again, this wasn't at all out of the ordinary for the Ten Kingdoms, though this go around somehow felt worse, especially as Tyrion sat at the table, staring down at the war map.

"I hate to tell you this brother, but that map isn't one of your soldiers," a sarcastic voice said, "It won't suit your expectations if you glare at it hard enough." The older twin just grunted, not looking up as his brother approached with two glasses, offering him one, which Tyrion took.

"Water?" He asked, looking into it.

"You're know good to Ulthuan sloshed either," Teclis said, to which Tyrion just snorted. He took a sip nonetheless, taking a moment to savor the cool liquid.

"You should really be joining me in Yvresse," Tyrion said, looking over at his twin, "Your magic would be a great asset on the battlefield."

"Doubtlessly, but my presence may prove a hinderance more than an asset," Teclis said, waving his hand, "There are doubtlessly many mages there already, not to mention Eltharion himself. My presence may strain the Aethyr." Tyrion grunted at that; though he didn't profess to know much about the arcane, he knew his brother did. It was one of the few things Tyrion would always defer to Teclis on. But one subject Tyrion WOULDN'T defer to him on was matters of war, like they were in the midst of at the moment.

It had happened almost unnaturally fast, in only slightly more than a month. A massive Greenskin horde had all but materialized on the Eastern coasts of Ulthuan, in the lands of Yvresse; it was hard to get a precise counting, but observer estimates had put the horde at tens of thousands strong, both orc and goblin. They had overwhelmed the coastal defenses with sheer brute force, and Eltharion was forced to withdraw back to his stronghold at Tor Yvresse. The orcs and goblins were now running roughshod across Ulthuan's Eastern coastline, with nothing to stop them, and to Tyrion that went far beyond simply being "unacceptable".

Tyrion had far more questions than he had time to seek answers for, but the biggest was just how they had made it to Ulthuan. The Greenskins were not seafarers, and even with the majority of Ulthuan's navy patrolling the Western oceans (ever vigilant for Druuchi incursions), they shouldn't have been able to make such a dramatic crossing unnoticed. This raised possibilities, possibilities that Tyrion didn't like; but he had to shelve those concerns for the time, especially, lead by the greatest Greenskin threat the Asur had ever seen: Grom the Paunch.

Tyrion remembered the oversized goblin quite well. It had been less than a hundred years ago (practically no time in the view of an elf), when he launched a massive assault on Yvresse. Tyrion had, unfortunately, been unable to participate in the defense, having been campaigning in Nagarythe against the Druuchi at the time, but Eltharion had defended his land well, and Grom was defeated, though never caught. Everyone, including Tyrion, had hoped that he had died in the melee, fled into the ocean, or otherwise met an ignoble death. But in the cruel world that they all lived in, when did such hopes every amount to anything?

Intent on taking on Greenskins and their filth himself this time, Tyrion had come to Tor Hoeth to gather the famed Swordmasters that trained there, and to enlist as many Loremasters as were willing as well. Soon they would all march back to Lothern to join with the rest of Tyrion's army, and from there they were bound for Yvresse. Imrik was also on the march with the army of Caledor, and while Tyrion had gotten word of the armies of Cothique had mobilized as well. With some strategy, and little fortune, the combined army would attack the Greenskins, and drive them from sacred Ulthuan.

"Even if you aren't going to come-" Tyrion was cut off a strange sensation suddenly came over him. A chill came through the room like a ripple, and the lights seem to grow dim. It shook Tyrion to his bones, and he instinctively moved his hand to the hilt of Sunfang. Teclis also noticed it, as he put his hand his head.

"Did you feel that?" Teclis muttered as he rose to his feet once the initial sensation had faded, holding out his hand, and telekinetically summoned the Staff of Lileath to his hand.

"Yes," Tyrion said steadily, as he stood as well. He wasn't the most magically adept of elves, but even he could sense what had just happened. There had been a ripple in the Aethyr (what the humans called the Winds of Magic), as if the whole world had just shivered.

"Walk with me," Teclis said, gesturing, before leading his brother down the hall.

The twins made their way to the tower's observatory, wherein stood a massive orrery, likely the largest in the world. It showed various celestial bodies floating through the void, with the stars wrapped around them like a cloak. Looming over it was a map of the world, which showed the way the Aethyr was flowing at the time. A lesser version was said to stand in the College of Magic in Altdorf (which Teclis had helped found). Teclis waved his staff, causing the celestial forms to shift away.

"There!" Teclis said, pointing to a spot on the map. There was a tiny little light of blue in that spot, like a tear in the very fabric of reality itself.

"Something has breached the veil," Teclis said, narrowing his eyes, and tightening the grip of the staff.

"Daemons?" Tyrion asked. The entire observatory grew tense at his suggestion; the last thing Ulthuan needed at this time was another daemonic incursion. Teclis opened his mouth to answer, but that was when the blue light pulsed and churned, before it seemed to burst into multiple little lights. Whispering broke out as the lights flew across the orrery, and across the globe. Most of them seemed to land in Elthin Arvan (what the humans rather arrogantly called the "Old World"), while another one went South, towards the Lands of the Dead, and another went far to the East, seeming to land all the way in Cathay. But there was one light that every last elf watched, as it soared through the air… and landed right in the middle of Ulthuan, specifically what looked like Saphery, not far from where they were.

"Asuryan's fire," Tyrion murmured, as his hand went to his sword again, "What just happened?"

"I… I don't know," Teclis said slowly, "But there is only one way to find out." With that, he turned and raised his staff.

"Loremasters of Hoeth!" he called, "To your mounts!" The Loremasters in the room shouted in affirmation, and left to do as much.

"Just what are you expecting to find out there?" Tyrion asked, as the brothers strode down the hall, and onto one of the balconies.

"I'm not sure," Teclis said, "But staying here won't teach us anything, or do us any good."

"I could come with you."

"I'm flattered, but I suspect I can handle this on my own. You have other things to deal with." With that, the High Loremaster put two fingers in his mouth, and let out a sharp whistle. It took a moment, but a brilliant, multi-colored phoenix flapped down, landing before the Arch Mage. It let out a gentle chirp, as Teclis put a hand on its beak.

"Hush, Ignis, hush," he said gently, before the phoenix lowered its wing, allowing him to climb onto its back. As he settled in the saddle, he looked back at Tyrion.

"I will bring whoever or whatever I find back to the White Tower," he said, "In the mean time, stay alert, brother, you never know what may crawl out of the nothing." With that he tugged on Ignis' reins, and the great bird took to wing. The phoenix was soon joined in the sky by several great eagles, who all soared off into the distance together. Tyrion didn't bother watching them fly off; he still had a war to prosecute.

Teclis flew for a time with his subordinates, towards where they had seen the light land, and they were getting close, Teclis could feel it. It was getting late in the day, as the sun neared the horizon. Ignis let out an uneasy chirp, as he jerked under the Arch Mage, to which Teclis patted his neck; as an Arcane Phoenix, he could sense the disturbances in the Aethyr even better than Teclis could.

"Calm, Ignis," he said, "I'm sure there's a simple explanation to all this." Teclis said that, but since when was fate every so kind? He looked around, before looking over his shoulder to his peers, and waved his staff, before pointing it down. With that, all the Loremasters swooped down towards the ground. Whatever it was that had arrived in Ulthuan, it was near; Teclis could feel the Aethyr in flux in this area. As far as he was concerned, there were no good options that awaited him. Best case scenario, the Aethyr spat out some magical debris that the Loremasters would need to collect or destroy; as for the worst case, Teclis didn't even want to imagine the menagerie of possibilities (and things) that could've been landed in these woods. Once Ignis was on the ground, Teclis dismounted, the other Loremasters doing the same.

"Spread out," Teclis said, waving his hand, "Be vigilant, and ready." The Loremasters did as commanded, walking off in different directions, their hands on their swords. Teclis did the same, and as he did, he took a deep breath. The Aethyr was in flux, that much it was apparent, though not to the point it was violent. The best way to put it was like visiting an area that had just been ravaged by a storm; one could feel the remnants of the weather in the air.

Teclis held out his hand, and willed the Aethyr to gather around him. Glowing, different colored spheres appeared in his hand, representing the different lores. Each one churned in his palm, as Teclis watched them closely, trying to see what was out of the ordinary; if one learned how to read the Aethyr (like Teclis could), they could understand the abnormalities in it, and what caused them. But seeing no such evidence in the winds themselves, Teclis let out a breath, and let the orbs dissipate. He was about to continue on, when he heard one of his lore masters call out.

"Lord Teclis! Come quickly!" Figuring this may have been what they were looking for, Teclis made his way over to the voice, where the other Loremasters are already gathered. They parted as their leader came through to reveal a small clearing, and a small crater, wherein lay three… humans?

At a glance, they looked fairly normal, with two young adults (one male, the other female) and a girl, perhaps in her early teens. But what Teclis found most strange was the color of their hair; while the young woman had blonde hair, the boy's spiky hair was a strange pink coloration, and the girl's was blue. In addition to them, there were the two animals that lay beside them. They looked like cats, though one was blue, and both were wearing some kind of clothes. No Teclis had heard of some humans trying to dress their pets in various clothes, so perhaps that wasn't completely unheard of, but a blue cat? That certainly seemed unheard of.

"With your leave, my Lord?" one Loremaster asked as he drew his sword, no doubt ready to take the heads of the unconscious humans.

"Stay that sword," Teclis said, putting his staff in front of the other Asur.

"High Loremaster?"

"Come now, sir," Teclis said, gesturing with his head, "One of them is a child. You would so casually murder a child?"

"With respect, my Lord," the Loremaster said, "If these truly are the ones who breached the veil, then who knows just where they could've come from, or by what hand. They could very well serve any number of terrible masters."

"The color of their hair certainly lends credence to that," another elf muttered, perhaps thinking Teclis couldn't hear him.

"Perhaps," Teclis said with a nod, before looking down at the humans, "But there is still much we do not know about who they are and why they're here. At any rate, we need to know how they got to Ulthuan. If this is part of something bigger, then it's best we know what to anticipate going forward. There are too many questions this raises to end it all here." The Loremasters exchanged looks, but none of them protested, as all those with drawn swords sheathed them.

"Now bind them, and carry them back to White Tower," the High Loremaster said as he turned and walked off, "We have much work to do." He then paused as he looked over his shoulder, as the Loremasters went to apprehend the humans.

"And take any magical items they might have on hand."

Natsu gasped as he suddenly sat up, panting, putting a hand on his chest to calm his racing heart.

"Damn it!" He said, rubbing his aching head, as he looked around. He was in a small stone room, lying on some kind of cot; the only way in appeared to be a set of bars, which showed a similar room across the way. Now Natsu'd been enough cells to recognize one at sight, but that didn't mean he knew what happened. He didn't remember much of what happened; only that they were in the guild, then there was this massive torrent of light and color, and that was it.

Swinging his legs over the side, the Dragon Slayer pulled himself to his feet, and quickly took stock of his condition. As far as he could tell, he was physically fine, though when he tried summon some magic, he found himself unable. Scowling at his hands, he tried again, with the same vain effort, but that was when he noticed something: his scarf was gone. That was enough for him to finally snap.

"Hey!" he shouted, "Is anyone there? Gimme back my scarf!"

"Natsu?" a familiar, feminine voice called from beside him, sending a jolt through the Dragon Slayer.

"Lucy!" Even though Natsu couldn't see her, the knowledge that Lucy was okay did send a brief wave of relief through him. Indeed, in the cell besides his, the Celestial Mage groaned as she sat up, rubbing her head.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I was gonna ask you," Natsu said, as he tried (and failed) to stick his head between the bars, "Do you have my scarf?"

"No, I don't," Lucy answered, looking around, "This looks like some kind of prison." She then reached down, and to her shock, she didn't feel her keys anywhere on her belt.

"They took my keys!" She cried. They had also taken her whip, but that was considerably less important for her at the moment.

"Damn it," Natsu grumbled, "Who are these bastards?"

"Natsu? Lucy?" a small voice called from nearby.

"Wendy?" Lucy called, coming up to the bars, "Is that you?"

"Yes!" the Sky Dragon Slayer called, causing to Lucy to let out a sigh of relief. And though his wasn't as audible, Natsu was no less relieved to hear the girl's voice.

"You guys are awake!" The voice of Happy said from further down.

"Wendy!" Carla's voice called, "Are you alright?" The more voices she heard, the more comfort Lucy took, especially with her keys lost, though as she listened for more, she didn't hear any. It appeared it was only the five of them.

"What the hell's going on?" Natsu asked, as he tugged at the bars, "Who're these guys that got us?"

"I don't know," Lucy said, "I've never seen a prison like this before." The air in it was strange; it felt restrained, as if there was great energy swirling around that had been constrained and subdued. The stones were white, unlike most prisons Lucy had been in, and there weren't any windows.

"Maybe if you hadn't read that book aloud without thinking…," Lucy said, rolling her eyes.

"Hey!" Natsu protested, "How was I supposed to know what would happen?"

"That's not the point!" Lucy answered, "This is just like when we switched bodies. You can't poking around in things you don't understand! Magic can be dangerous if someone's not careful."

"Would you both please quiet down?" Carla interjected, "None of this is helping."

"Carla's right," Wendy said, "We don't even know where we are, right now." Lucy let out a sigh, knowing the Dragon Slayer and her Exceed partner were right, as she sat down, and leaned into her hands. She was agitated by losing her keys, and wasn't thinking straight, and if ever she needed a clear head, it was now.

"What do you think happened to the others?" Wendy asked with a small voice.

"I don't know," Lucy answered, rubbing the back of her neck, "Maybe they got away while we got captured?" That was at least what she was hoping, but she couldn't hope to know. The last thing she remembered was they were in the guild, Natsu was reading something (Lucy hadn't seen what it was), there was this flash of blue light…. And here they were. Lucy didn't like her head feeling so fuzzy, it made her anxious, and apparently she wasn't the only one.

"GRRR!" Natsu growled as he pulled at the bars again, "This sucks!"

"Just take a breath," Lucy said as she leaned against the wall, "We obviously can't use magic, so busting out isn't an option right now."

"Then what do we do?" Happy asked.

"I guess we just… wait?" Lucy suggested.

"GAH!" Natsu groaned, banging his head on the bars, "I hate waiting!" Lucy just rolled her eyes and sighed. Honestly, though, she couldn't really fault him for feeling the way he did. She had no idea where her keys were, and that made her about as stressed as Natsu probably was, and probably no less frustrated either.

"What do you make of them?" Tyrion asked.

"Strange," Teclis answered.

"That's all you have to say?" Tyrion said with a frown, "People call you the 'smart' brother, do they not?"

"Just because I'm smart doesn't I'm omniscient," Teclis answered, "We patronize Hoeth in this institution, but we don't have his powers." Tyrion snorted at that, as he looked back at the scrying pool, folding his arms, not sure what to make of what was happening; they had way too many issues at the moment, the last thing they needed something like this.

"And those items you took from them?" He asked, "What do you make of them?"

"As of now, nothing," Teclis answered, "But my Loremasters are studying them intently, so we'll find out their nature before long. Though the runes should keep their magic suppressed for the time, if that's what you're worried about."

"That's the least of my concerns," Tyrion said, shaking his head, "There is a reason outsiders are restricted to Lothern, and for them to appear near the White Tower, it raises more than suspicion. Who know's who or what they are?" It didn't take much for Teclis to put together what his brother was suggesting.

"Brother, at this point, I highly doubt that they came here of their own volition," Teclis said, "Is it really just for us to punish them for a crime they possibly didn't even realize they committed?"

"We have our laws," Tyrion answered, "And it is in times like these that we must follow them as diligently as ever." Teclis sighed, as he drummed a finger on his staff.

"But….," Tyrion then said with a sigh of his own, "I suppose so long as they are incarcerated here, that solves the most immediate issues. I think I can trust you with whatever you had planned for them."

"I'm glad you see it my way, my brother," Teclis said with a satisfied grin, which his twin didn't return.

"Don't make regret it," Tyrion said pointedly, to which the mage just nodded.

"At any rate, their magical auras are… odd, to say the least," Teclis said, as he looked back at the scrying pool, "While the woman's aura brings to mind the powers of Azyr, the man and the child are very different. Their auras are more akin to dragons than humans."

"Come now, dragons?" Tyrion said with an audible scoff, "That's ridiculous." Both he and Teclis had engaged with dragons many times now, and they were quite familiar with the presence a dragon had.

"I am merely telling you what I've observed," Teclis said, "I think, in all, that warrants at least some study."

"Well put frankly, I have far, far more important things to worry about than a trio of trespassers with their pets," Tyrion said as he turned to leave, "Do what you will with them."

"Oh, I fully intend to, brother," Teclis said, as he looked back down a the scrying pool as his brother left the room. The pink haired man had started to literally gnaw on the bars.

"What are we to do with them, Lord Teclis?" a Loremaster asked, as he came up to him.

"For the time being, we will observe them," Teclis answered, as he leaned down towards the pool, "We will find out what we can."

Across the Eastern edges of the Land of the Dead were the Great Mountains. Dry, desolate, and imposing, they had once been part of the great dwarfen empire, but they had long since fallen to dark, savage forces. They now stood as a solemn reminder of the cold, ever marching gauntlet of time.

But monsters and barbarians were not the only things that dwelt in the mountain. High in one of the countless peaks was a dark, smoky cave, lined with scorched stones and streaks of earth, and within the cave slept a great beast. A beast that few had ever seen, but many had heard the name.

The creature spent most of its time sleeping, but out of nowhere, an eye as bright and piercing as the sun itself snapped open. A massive form covered in scales the color of blazing fire heaved up from the dust, as a pointed snout pointed up, and sniffed the air. It then exhaled, letting out a thick cloud of steam.

"At last," the beast mused, as it reared up, and slowly squeezed through the dense cavern chambers, before emerging into the open space; as it did, the clouds parted, letting in a beam of sunlight that struck the creature. A massive pair of wings unfolded from behind it; on each wing was a symbol of Aqshy, and its eyes glowed like wildfire.

"Now then, what kind of person will you prove to be?" Gordinar, the Champion of the Flame, asked nobody in particular, as he beat his wing a single time, and ascended into the sky.

Chapter Text

The first thing Erza felt when she started to stir was the hard ground. The next thing was a cool breeze, which finally woke her up. With a groan, Erza rolled over onto her side, and she boosted herself into a sitting position. The first thing she saw opening her eyes was a small fire.

"Erza!" a familiar voice said. Erza looked up to see Jellal leaning forward over the fire, looking at her in relief.

"Jellal!" Erza cried as she sat up. He had been coming through the guild, looking for something that Erza honestly didn't remember at the moment, and him being this close couldn't help but make her blush.

"I was starting to get worried," Jellal said, "You'd been unconscious for a couple hours now."

"Hours?" Erza asked nervously, once again slightly embarrassed to let Jellal see her this way. She then looked around, and noticed that they were in, of all things, a shallow cave, with a fire in the center (no doubt courtesy of Jellal), and looking outside, Erza couldn't see much more other than pure darkness, with only the faint outline of trees against the moonlight. It then dawned on Erza that this was neither the time nor the place to be getting flustered, not when they had much more pressing concerns.

"What's going on?" She asked, looking around, "This isn't the guild hall." Sure, a rather obvious thing to say, but it was really the only thing Erza could tell about their current situation.

"I wish I knew, but I only woke up a brief while ago myself," Jellal explained, "It was already getting dark, so I carried you into this cave. Figured some shelter is better than none." Once again, Erza was slightly embarrassed to have to be carried by him, but again, she stowed those emotions for the time. With that, she shakily rose to her feet, using the cave wall to balance her, as she stretched to wake up her body some more.

"At least we're alright," Erza said, "That's always a better start than other situations like this." She then took a few tentative steps towards the entrance, and let herself peer out; from what she could see in the darkness, they were on the edge of some woods, with thick foliage and trees around them. Btu there was just enough gaps in them for Erza to see the night sky, and what she saw sent a chill down her spine: there were two moons.

The first one seemed normal enough, but the same couldn't be said for the second one. It was a sickly, glowing green, which made Erza's skin crawl. It looked wrong, like it wasn't supposed to be there, like seeing a piece of debris floating in the ocean. As waves of nausea started to come over her, Erza looked away from the moon.

"We're not in Earthland anymore," was all she ended up saying, to which Jellal shook his head. They certainly weren't in Edolas (hence the green moon), but that was the only other world that Erza knew of, so that didn't exactly narrow down their options.

"Do you remember what had happened?" Jellal asked.

"We had just gotten back from a job," Erza said, as she combed through her memories, "The reward had been a book. I remember because Lucy was really frustrated that it wouldn't pay for her rent."

"Yes, I remember now," Jellal said with a nod, "I believe Natsu started reading from the book."

"Remind me to give Natsu a solid punch upside the head next time we see him if he was the one responsible," Erza grumbled. Jellal just laughed slightly, before he looked back down at the fire.

"I don't remember what exactly it was he had said," he said, "But I do remember one word…"

"Change," Erza muttered, as she looked down at the fire as well. She didn't have a clear memory of it either, but that was one word she remembered very clearly. She wasn't sure what was being changed, or to what end. Her thoughts were then suddenly broken by a sound in the distance, a particularly odd one at that, unlike anything Erza had heard before. It sounded like someone had layered the bellow of a bull on top of the scream of a man; it sounded unnatural, and only added to Erza's shivers.

"What is that sound?" She asked without thinking.

"I've been hearing it for a while lately," Jellal answered, narrowing his eyes, "It sounds like some kind of beast." As he was talking, there was another howl, but this one sounded slightly closer.

"Perhaps we should-" Erza didn't get to finish, as Jellal's hand was suddenly over her mouth.

"Listen!" he said before the red-head could protest. Erza briefly flushed at that, but then she heard it too. The sound of rustling, and twigs breaking, not far outside the cave. The two sat in silence for a while, staring into the darkness, until they finally saw it: a pair of eyes floating in the black.

As Jellal stood up and joined her, Erza summoned a sword into her hand. While she was able to, it took a bit more effort; it didn't feel "hard" per se, that didn't feel like the word. It was more like she had to reach just a little deeper within in order to find the power, and use it. This demonstrated that the world wasn't like Edolas, in that there was magic power, but it didn't feel like the Ethernano that floated around back in Earthland. But Erza figured now wasn't the time to ponder such questions.

Before long, another pair of eyes appeared in the darkness, and then another, and another. A part of Erza wanted to shout a challenge into the darkness, and get them all to come and face her, but she didn't end up doing as much. And so they eyes just floated there before them, as if sizing them up. Erza involuntarily found herself tightening her grip on her sword.

Eventually, the eyes all blinked away, as whatever was out there retreated into the darkness. Though she might've been imagining it, Erza could've sworn she heard the sound of hoofbeats on the wind. She lowered her sword slightly, though she didn't stow it away.

"So, what do you think should we do?" Jellal asked.

"Well, we're certainly not going anywhere in the dark," Erza said as she sat back down, "I suppose all we can do is wait to morning."

"My thoughts exactly," Jellal said, nodding in agreement, as he sat down as well, leaning agains the wall, "I'd say we should both get some sleep, but I certainly don't feel the least bit tired."

"Neither do I," Erza responded, as she brought her legs in, placing her chin on her knees. And if even if she were, the idea of sleeping in this place didn't sit right with her, especially not with that evil green moon looming over them.

()

Growing up in Castle Bordeleaux, Alberic was certainly used to storms. During the harsher months, the storms and seas would batter the walls for days on end, leaving them coated in an everlasting crust of sea salt and algae, and the lower reaches of the castle, and the city around it would be flooded. The only way to sleep in the city was to learn how to sleep through the storm, which was why the crack of lighting and the boom of thunder never disturbed the duke as he slept. It was purely by coincidence that he woke up as lightning flashed outside.

He couldn't say why he woke, just that he did, and finding himself unable to get back to sleep at the moment, he decided to get out of bed for the moment. Lighting a candle for himself, Alberic went over to the window. The moon was out, meaning it's light was overshadowing Morrslieb's, if only slightly. He stared out over the crashing waves of the ocean, that disappeared over the horizon, where Ulthuan stood. Alberic had heard rumors of some kind of turmoil going on amongst the High Elves, but he knew enough to know that their island kingdom was always beset by some form of evil, so he didn't think much of it.

Alberic wasn't sure how long he was standing there, before he heard a knock at his door.

"Yes?" The duke asked. The door opened up, revealing one of the many squires who served him.

"My lord?" He said, peaking in, "Forgive me for disturbing you."

"No, it's fine," Alberic said, as he went across his chamber to where the squire was, setting the candle on a table, "I was already awake anyway. Though just what is going on that you would come to my chambers at this dark hour?" The squire pursed his lips as he made his way into the chamber, as if unsure how to answer.

"Honestly, sire, I don't entirely know," the squire said as he made his way into the chamber, "Word only just arrived a moment ago from the Chapel." That quickly got Alberic's attention. He was somewhat different than the other dukes of Bretonnia, at least when it comes to matters of religion. He venerated Manann, the god of the sea, above all others, which of course made him something of an oddity amongst his fellows. Of course, Alberic had made the same oaths of chivalry to the Lady of the Lake that his fellow knights did, and he wasn't about to denounce the word of the Lady, or her followers. After all, the First Chapel of the Grail was located in his castle, and when word came from the Chapel and those who tended to it, Alberic really had no choice but to listen.

"What is it?"

"They didn't tell us much, only that the Damsel of the Chapel is in distress," the squire answered.

"In distress?" Alberic asked, his brow furrowing. He generally let the Damsels of the Lady run their business as they saw fit, and they generally kept to themselves, only emerging to offer occasional council, or when Alberic needed their magic to aid in him battle. To that end, the notion of their leader being "in distress" sat ill with him.

"Please," he said, stepping forward, "Take me to her."

"Of course, sire," the squire said, before getting out of the way with a gesture. He lead Alberic through the vast, winding halls of the castle, down corridors, stairs, and towers, until they got to the lower reaches of the castle, where the chapel was located.

As they were going down the stairs, they passed by a window as lighting cracked again. Despite himself, Alberic stopped, as he looked out of it into the distance; this window faced in land instead of towards the sea, and though he couldn't see much besides the lights of the city beneath them, something about the world out there seemed…. strange. He was certainly not magically attuned, but something about the world seemed to have shifted; it was kind of like looking at a spot where someone had just cleaned up a spill, it was like there was the remains of a mess.

"Is there something wrong, my lord?" The squire asked.

"No!" Alberic said quickly, shaking his head clear, before hurrying down the stairs, "This way?"

Eventually, they reached the chapel, though only Alberic was allowed entry into it (the squire was not sworn to the Lady after all). However, as he entered, he noticed the form of his son, Fremund standing beside the door.

"Father," he said with a slight bow.

"Fremund," Alberic said with a nod, "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I was having troubled dreams, and I thought some time in contemplation would do my well," Alberic answered, "So I came down to the chapel, when I heard a scream coming from the Damsel's chambers. I went to investigate, and I found her in distress."

"I take it you were the one who sent the squire?" Alberic asked, to which he son nodded. Not that Alberic was complaining; it was good for his son to take initiative like that. The two made their way through the chapel, pausing briefly at the altar, where Alberic kissed the tips of his fingers, and held them down to his heart, as Fremund did the same, blessing themselves. They then made their way pass the altar, into the Damsel's chambers.

Nobody was quite sure about the Damsel's age, but she certainly looked quite young, with long brown hair tied back into a sleeping braid, and a youthful face, though it was contorted in looks of fear and apprehension. She was surrounded by her nuns (some of whom looked older than her), doting on her like she was a lost child.

"My fair lady," Alberic said, falling to one knee, and offering a hand to her, "Please share your troubles." The Damsel didn't answer first, as she kept her face covered, sniffling as if she were crying.

"Her Grace has had a great and terrible vision," one of the nuns said on her behalf.

"A vision?" Alberic asked. Visions certainly weren't unheard of, after all, many a Grail Knight (and in turn many a Royarch) had been spurred onto their journey by a vision, but they weren't especially common amongst Damsels.

"Pray tell, what was the vision of?" The duke then asked, though he wasn't entirely sure he'd get an answer. Damsels weren't the most talkative as was, and a distressed damsel was probably no more inclined to talk than a calmed one. However, Alberic started to hear faint whispers beneath the hands, too faint for him to hear, but one of the nuns apparently could.

"A white dragon… A scarlet crown…," the nun said, "Lines of warriors wearing scaled armor, fighting horrid beasts… Walls falling…" Obviously, none of that sounded good, though Alberic really had no idea what to make of that. He supposed it could've been in reference to what was said to be going on in Ulthuan, who Alberic knew commanded powerful dragons in battle; perhaps the gods were trying to encourage Bretonnia to send aid to the High Elves?

"Is there nothing else?" Fremund asked.

"We would never press Her Grace for more information," the nun said, as if the suggestion offended her. Father and son exchanged glances, as they tried to make sense of what they heard. As they did, they heard the Damsel sniffle again.

"Please, Her Grace is distressed enough as is," another nun said, "Please leave us so that we may offer her comfort." Not exactly in a position to disagree, the two lords left her chambers, emerging back out into the chapel.

"What do you think, Father?" Fremund asked, as his father folded his arms, and rubbed his chin.

"I can't say I really 'think' anything," Alberic answered, "All those details are both quite suspicious, and quite vague."

"Do you think it's referencing what's going in Ulthuan?" Fremund said, to which his father chuckled slightly.

"The same thought actually crossed my mind," he answered, "But it's too early to say for certain. At any rate, I suspect a night without sleep won't help us find out anything more. Return to your chambers, we will discuss this more tomorrow."

"Yes, Father," Fremund said, bowing again, before turning to leave. Alberic found himself looking towards the altar again. He wasn't sure what he expected to see there that he hadn't seen before; as it turned out, it was still nothing.

()

The night proved restless, and Erza didn't so much wake up as much as she pulled herself up. She didn't exactly feel rested, but she didn't feel that tired either; maybe it was the nerves keeping her awake. It didn't matter, as she and Jellal agreed they had to move on, if only to find sustenance. Erza supposed if there was any solace in where they were, it was that they were in lush hills, instead of a blasted desert.

They walked for some time, during which Erza looked for a trace of whatever it was that might've been watching them; with the scattered leaves there wasn't much in the way of tracks, aside from a few parts of tracks, which vaguely resembled hoof prints. It wasn't long before they emerged out of the trees, and into a lush meadow that seemed to go across the rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Standing on the hill, they could see what looked like a stream cutting the land.

"Well, at least we have water," Jellal said, as he headed down the hill. Erza nodded in agreement as they came up to the water's edge, and as if on cue, she spotted something floating down the current. Bending down, she snatched it out of the water.

"Look at this," she said, holding it up, "It's a doll." There wasn't much to it, just a simple rag doll, probably made by hand. Erza suspected whoever owned it was probably on the poor side.

"If it came from upriver, then that would prove this place is populated," Jellal said, looking out into the distance, "I'd be willing to guess if we follow it, we may find some form of civilization."

"And we may reunite a child with their lost toy," Erza said with a smile. That was always a plus in her proverbial book.

Chapter Text

In times of memoriam, the Grand Hall of Khemri was the greatest hall that the Old World had ever seen since the dwarfs drove the elves from the continent. Kings, chieftains, and warlords from all across the land would assemble before the Throne of Kings to pay homage to the Pharaohs of Nehekhara. During the reign of Settra in particular, the tribute would pile up along the walls, until they'd tower over the chambers and all those beneath them. It was said then that no hall of men ever had, or ever would match the glory of this one here. And now…

The hall was completely empty, filled with naught but sand, dust, and rubble. The only light came from a few flickering torches, whatever moonlight streamed in from the openings in the ceiling, and of course the Blessed Blade of Ptra, which sat beside the throne. The once intricate decorations that covered the walls were now faded and weather worn, and all that remained of the great tapestries and banners were torn fabrics that would probably crumble into dust as well if one so much as grazed them. In all, the sight left Settra with a knot in the stomach he didn't have anymore.

Devoid of the life that once teemed around it, the hall was a grim reminder of all he had lost. The court, such as it was (mostly consisting of heralds, priests, and generals) had "retired" for the night; of course, none of them actually needed sleep anymore (not counting time spent replenishing in their sarcophagi), but they still went through the motions that they once had as if nothing had changed. Once in a while, Settra would catch sigh of a scorpion darting through the sand, along with the occasional snake or desert mouse; the few forms of life the desert hadn't captured yet.

The Pharaoh of Nehekhara leaned back in his throne, resting his forehead in his hand, musing on it all. Once in a while, an overly zealous knight and his retinue from the North would come down to "purge the Fell", an Arabyan sheikh would venture too deep into their lands seeking treasure, or an orc horde decided to go South instead of North, and Settra would have to crush them. There was always some satisfaction in crushing insects like that, but those times were few and far between; a reminder of a better time. Most of the time, though, Settra would sit on his throne, or stand in his city, and be reminded of everything that had been lost in the age since the Great Betrayal, and it made him angry.

He was Settra the Imperishable! He was the King of Kings, the Pharaoh of Nehekhara, the Khemrikara, the Lord of the Earth, Monarch of the Sky, Ruler of the Four Horizons, Mighty Lion of the Infinite Desert, Great Hawk of the Heavens, Majestic Emperor of the Shifting Sands, Eternal Sovereign of Khemri's Legions, to name but a few of his (well earned) titles. Every last soul on the continent from the distant North to the far South should have been groveling at his feet, begging for his favor and mercy. And yet here he was, sitting in the sand swept remains of his empire, waiting for something to happen. And indeed, something did happen…

It had been brief but distinct; a sudden wind blew through the chamber, as if some great beast had just sharply exhaled. The torches all flickered, and the dust became unsettled, as Settra leaned forward, gripping the arms of his throne, before rising to his feet. He took a few steps forward on the dais, as he reached over, and pulled the Blade of Ptra out of the floor. While he had little sensation in his current state, as a spell-caster, he could always feel the Winds of Magic around him, and in that moment, he could feel them in disarray around him. It was if the entire world in that moment had shivered.

There were all sorts of questions that begged answering now, and Settra wasn't one to leave such things unanswered. Especially not when he had servants for purposes like that. With that, he held up his weapon, and slammed its hilt into the ground.

*BANG*

The sound echoed across the ancient chambers, through the palace, and across the entirety of Khemri it seemed. For a while, the air was still, as if the world itself was caught off guard by this display, but then sands started to shift. They parted to reveal doors and chambers that opened, as desiccated figures entered the room, dressed in flowing white robes, some wearing striped nemes, while others wore circlets with snakes on them. There were dozens of them, and they all seemed to be priests.

As they came together, they started to whisper amongst themselves. They had all just been resting in their sarcophagi, dreaming of better times, when they had heard the pharaoh's summons. He only truly summoned them when he wanted something from one of them, and if anything seemed to be irritated by their presence most of the time; after all, he still blamed them for failing to deliver the eternal life they had promised. And so, for him to summon all of them all at once was strange, but they weren't about to question the will of one the most powerful men in the world.

With that, one of them slowly ascended the dais, keeping his head bowed. As he did, Settra glowered down at him, and while his dead face could no longer show true emotion, the light that still burned in his eyes was fierce. For whatever reason he summoned them, it was clear he was still not pleased to see them. Indeed, as the priest came up to the middle of the dais, he fell to his hands and knees.

"How may we serve, great Pharaoh?" he asked, without missing a beat.

()

Age had a very loose meaning amongst the Liche Priests of Nehekhara, considering how even the "youngest" among them was still over a thousand years ago. But there was a certain notion of seniority amongst them. Those who had been around the longest were the most senior, while those who had spent the most time out of their tombs was the second qualifier. Khetne had been fairly young when he had been inducted into the order, and mummified with his brothers, during the reign of Pharaoh Setep of the 5th Dynasty. He had only been awoken a few times, and he always savored those moments, which was why he wasn't thrilled to be consigned to what amounted to a simple investigation.

The Wall of Winds was an ancient tool used to read the Winds of Magic, consisting of a massive map of the world, with dancing lights to representing the winds as they were. In the past (as was often the case in Nehekhara), it allowed the priests to see the flow of the Winds of Magic, such as the direction they were blowing, where they strong, where they were weak, and where they were in chaos. At the moment, the Winds seemed to be churning and displaced, as if a great single gust had swept through the world, and disturbed the winds at all at once.

Khetne was towards the back, watching as the senior priests milled about, discussing what the cause could be. The general consensus seemed to be that something that breached the veil of reality, and anyone who lived in this accursed world knew that was a dreadful sign. The forces of Chaos had little sway in Nehekhara, praise the gods, but that was mostly because corruption had no influence over the dead; if there was any silver lining to be found in their current state, Khetne supposed it might've been that.

"Initiate!" a voice called. Khetne quickly stood up straight, tightening his grip on his vulture-tipped staff as he looked over to see his superior, Priest Satekh approaching him. Satekh was wearing a golden nemes with his robe, and had a staff shaped like an ankh, denoting his rank in the order.

"Lord Priest," Khetne said, bowing his head as Satekh came over, "What news?"

"Little, I'm afraid," Satekh said, looking back towards the Wall, "All we know is that something has landed in Nehekhara. As to what, I don't know, and the possibilities do not sound encouraging." Khetne gripped his staff slightly tighter, as he clenched his teeth, and looked down.

"If Lord Khatep was here-" He was silenced by a hand to his throat; though he couldn't be choked, Khetne still didn't like the feeling (as far he could feel) of his superior's hand on his neck.

"Mind your words," Satekh said, "The name of that accursed failure is not spoken here." He let go, allowing Khetne to stumble back.

"Of course, Excellency," Khetne said, rubbing his neck, "A mere slip of the tongue." (even if he technically didn't have a tongue anymore) Satekh just grunted, as he turned to look back at the Wall.

"Still, for him to awaken us all at once," Khetne then mused, "He must be troubled."

"Whatever the pharaoh is musing on is none of our concern," Satekh said, "We will enact his will, as we have for an age already."

"Of course," Khetne answered, knowing there wasn't any point in pursuing the topic.

"That being said, you are to investigate the West," Satekh said, which surprised Khetne.

"Me, sir?" He asked.

"You won't be doing it alone," Satekh said, "You and the other initiates will be searching for whatever there may be find." That wasn't exactly encouraging to hear, seeing how big the "West" was. At least Khetne would have his eyes, but that still left a great distance to cover. But he had his orders, and Satekh spoke for the pharaoh when he gave instructions like those.

"Yes, Excellency," Khetne said, putting his fist on his chest, and bowing his head, as his superior walked away. Had he still been able, he would've sighed.

()

When Gray began to stir, he wondered if he was lying in a bed, with how soft the surface was. He instinctively turned over, and ended up tumbling down a hill. That was enough to jolt Gray awake, as he managed to catch himself. Once he had stopped, Gray looked around, seeing that he had just rolled down a sand dune. For a moment, he hoped he had ended up on a beach, but as he looked around some more, he saw that he was actually in the middle of a vast desert. It seemed to be night, and though he knew that often meant the dunes were cold (not that he ever minded) it was still considerably warm.

"My darling Gray!" Gray looked up to see none other than Juvia looking down the dune he had fallen down, as she slid down to his level.

"Are you alright?" She asked, coming up.

"I think so," Gray said, rubbing his head. Juvia squealed in joy as she embraced him; Gray was honestly just happy for a familiar face around after what had happened, whatever that was.

"Damn it, I told Natsu not to read that thing," Gray grumbled, as he pulled himself up, Juvia coming up with him.

"Is that what happened?" Juvia asked, as she finally stepped back, "I honestly don't remember."

"Yeah, I don't really either," Gray answered, folding his arms, "We're in some kind of desert." Juvia pouted in acknowledgement; as a water mage, she had an instinctive aversion to deserts.

"What do we do?" She asked.

"Well, we sure as hell can't stay here," Gray answered, folding his arms, "I guess we…" He trailed off as he noticed Juvia looking up, a frightened look on her face. Gray followed her gaze, and saw the source of her disturbance.

While this sky had a moon like normal, that wasn't the only thing in the sky. There was also a moon that was a sickly green in color, sitting there like the sky had grown some kind of cyst. The sight of it was enough to make Gray want to throw up, but then a certain realization almost made him did: they weren't in Earthland anymore. Glancing away from the moon, and back at Juvia, he saw that she was almost frozen in fear. Tears even seemed to be gathering the corners of her eyes.

"Hey, Juvia!" Gray said, as he grabbed her hand. Juvia flinched, but then looked down, and blushed slightly.

"C'mon," the Ice Mage then said, gesturing with his head, "Let's get moving." Juvia smiled slightly, as she nodded in agreement, and with that, the two Fairy Tail mages began walking; they didn't have a solid location in mind, but they walked in such a way to keep the green moon at their backs.

They walked for a while, walking along the dunes, some of which seemed higher than the guild hall. They seemed to go on forever, and it dawned on Gray that presumably the sun would rise at some point, and then they would be left at the mercy of what was no doubt a very hot day. Dehydration wouldn't be an issue. Though Juvia was normally disinclined to do so, the water that came from her was in fact drinkable. And, of course, Gray could use his magic to create ice, which Juvia could crunch on. It was for the same reason they wouldn't have to worry about overheating. Of course that didn't cover the issue of food. It was around dawn, when the light of the morning started to grace the horizon, and their fortunes (such as they were) started to change.

"Look!" Juvia said, grabbing Gray's arm to get his attention, while pointing. Following her finger, Gray saw what he at first thought was a pile of rocks, but then he saw there was method to how they were arranged, and he realized that it was the remains of what may have been at one point a fort. That at least meant that there were (presumably) people in the desert.

"Well, it's better than nothing," Gray said, as the two started making their way down the dunes towards the fort, "Maybe we can avoid the worst of the day in that." Juvia nodded in agreement.

As they came into the fort, which while in poor condition, was at least standing, they took in their surroundings. The weathered walls looked like they may have at one point been decorated with symbols and engravings, though they were so ravaged by time that it was impossible to tell what they may have been. As he was making his way further in, Gray sat down, and glanced up, and spotted a series of birds circling around. They looked like vultures, even though they looked slightly odd from this distance, not that Gray could tell very well.

"That's not exactly encouraging," Gray said as he leaned against the wall. He then felt Juvia leaning against him, and Gray didn't exactly have the energy to push her off this go around; besides, she was probably under just as much strain as Gray was, and figured that would be unfair to her. Wherever their relationship was at the moment, she was without a doubt his friend, and he would be there for her when she needed him, and he suspected now was such a moment.

As the two Fairy Tail mages settled in, one of the vultures broke off from its circling, and flew off to the East.

()

The vulture soared on, as the sun slowly crested the horizon, signaling the return of Ptra from the underworld. As the sun rose, the vulture returned to the walls of Khemri, whereupon the forms of Khetne and Satekh were waiting. As the vulture swooped down to them, Khetne held out his arm, allowing the it to perch upon him. The bird squawked into his decayed ear, reporting what it had saw.

"So, what news?" Satekh asked, taking a step forward.

"Two humans," Khetne answered once the vulture stopped, "A man and a woman, in the deserts to the East."

"The living in Nehekhara? Impossible."

"I am merely reporting what was seen," Khetne answered, looking at his superior, "They have taken shelter in an old fort some miles to the West."

"Well then, whatever they are, I doubt it'll matter," Satekh said, "The desert will inevitably claim them, and the problem will solve itself. I will report as much to the pharaoh." With that he started to leave, but stopped when Khetne called to him.

"With your leave, High Priest, I would ride out into the desert and investigate more thoroughly," he said. Maybe he was just trying to find an excuse to stay out of his tomb a little longer, but Khetne doubted that things were that simple. Whoever these humans were, they probably had more to tell them.

"For what end?"Satekh asked, turning, "What more do you need to see?"

"The pharaoh tasked us with finding out the source of the disturbance," Khetne answered.

"And so we did."

"But what if there is more to these trespassers?" Khetne asked, spreading his hands, "What if this is merely the start of something bigger." Satekh opened, then closed his mouth, seeing the point in the initiate's words.

"And just what do you think this is the 'start' of?" He asked.

"Perhaps nothing," Khetne said, "In which case, what harm is there in knowing for sure?" Satekh looked at him for a time, his bandaged face betraying no thoughts or emotions. But he relented, and nodded.

"You have two days to learn what you can," the priest said, before he turned and walked away.

"Thank you, Excellency!" Khetne said, bowing his head. As his superior walked off, Khetne called the vulture back to him; once it landed on his arm, Khetne whispered some things to it, before it flew back off, in the same direction it came from, as Khetne made his way down to the courtyard.

As he walked through the yard, he dragged his staff along the sand, and started muttering a series of incantations. Walking in a circle, once he completed his chant, he banged his staff into the ground. The sands then shifted and parted, until out of them rose a skeletal horse with a saddle on it. The horse trotted up to Khetne, who hoisted himself onto its back. He guided it towards the gates of the city, which were generally shut, but as Khetne approached, invisible forces opened them for him.

"Two days," he mused, to himself "I suppose I'd best use them wisely." With that, he willed the horse on, as it galloped into the desert.

Chapter Text

Zhao Ming didn't pretend to know much about the dragons that existed on the other side of the world, particularly how they flew with wings, instead of naturally floating while he and his family did. Perhaps there was a reason they allowed the lesser races to ride them? Perhaps they actually gained something from that? Those were questions that Zhao Ming often found himself wondering, but now was not the time. After all, he wasn't flying on for no reason.

There had been a disturbance in the Elemental Winds, and as a dragon, Zhao Ming could sense it very clearly. He was currently soaring across the Southern corner of the Western provinces, in the green lowlands that bordered the Celestial Lake, in the general direction he sensed the disturbance. For all he knew, it could've been nothing; the Winds were fickle like that, and were prone to strange gusts and changes, but as he flew on, something caught his nose.

While the scent wasn't "familiar" per se, Zhao Ming could still recognize what it was, partially because he'd been smelling it since he first emerged from the egg. As he veered in that direction, he couldn't tell much about it, but there were there things he knew for sure, and what he knew sent a tingle all the way to the tip of his tail. Those there things were as followed: it was a dragon, it wasn't one of his siblings, and it wasn't far away.

()

When Gajeel woke up, the first thing he needed to confirm was that Levy was alright. He leapt to his feet, looking around for his wife, and to his relief, he saw her lying not far from him, no worse for ear.

"Levy!" Gajeel called, as he came over to her, taking her in his arms. It took a moment, but Levy eventually stirred, and opened her eyes, blinking away the haze in her head.

"Gajeel?" She asked, as she sat up, "What…"

"Are you alright?" Gajeel asked.

"Yeah," Levy answered with a nod.

"There you guys are!" A familiar voice called, "I was looking all over for you." The two looked up to see Pantherlily floating over to them.

"Where are we?" Lily asked as he landed in front of his team.

"Hell if I know," Gajeel answered, looking around, folding his arms, "This certainly ain't the guild hall."

"Well that much is obvious," Levy said, one hand instinctively going down to her stomach. They seemed to be in some kind of valley, surrounded by greenery, with large groves of bamboo scattered around. Tall, stony mountains surrounded the area, and there was a river floating through the center.

"Do you guys know what happened?" Lily asked.

"I remember I was standing with Lucy back at the guild," Levy answered, "They had just come back from a job, and she had some kind of strange tome with her, one I'd never seen before. I just remember it had a weird cover on it, kind of like a stylized eye."

"Yeah, and then Salamander started reading it," Gajeel said with a snort, "Leave it to him to do something stupid like that."

"Careful big guy," Levy said, rolling her eyes, "He who lives in a glass house and all." Gajeel just snorted again, as he looked around.

"Well, wherever we are, we need to get moving," he said, "I bet if we-" He suddenly stopped though, as the winds started picking up, and he suddenly stood up straight, sniffing the air.

"What is it?" Levy asked, "Do you smell something?"

"Yeah," Gajeel nodded, as his eyes narrowed, "But it doesn't… it doesn't make sense."

"What do you mean?"

"It smells like a…," Gajeel trailed off, but Levy and Lily both knew him well enough now to pick up on the quirks. At any point, he wouldn't need to say anything, as there was a great gust of wind, as a massive, serpentine form swept over them.

"A dragon?!" Levy balked. While it was definitely a dragon, it wasn't like any dragon Gajeel'd ever seen. Of the dragons Gajeel had encountered, their appearances could vary radically at times, but they generally followed a similar body plan: four legs and two wings, with a few exception. But this dragon had NO wings whatsoever. Instead, it had a long, snake-like body, with four small limbs across its body, and a beard and mane of black hair, with two long feelers trailing off its snout.

Gajeel, Levy, and Lily all watched as the dragon circled back up into the sky, before it suddenly dove down. Its body was then consumed in fire, which reminded Gajeel somewhat of Salamander, and out of those flames emerged what looked like a man. He was tall, with black hair, wearing black armor over white robes, and an elaborate headdress of horns, with a small blue gem embedded on the forehead. His eyes, however, were a solid white, and yet had a fierce appearance to them, almost as if they were just a mask hiding his true eyes.

"Who the hell are you?!" Gajeel demanded, as he took a fighting stance.

"Gajeel, can you please-," Levy didn't get to finish as the man… dragon… whatever he was answered.

"I am Zhao Ming!" he proclaimed, thumping his chest, "The Iron Dragon, and Ruler of the Wes-"

"'Iron Dragon'?" Gajeel interrupted, not sure he heard that right. His opponent, Zhao Ming, blinked in surprise, clearly not used to be interrupted.

"You certainly don't smell like an Iron Dragon," he declared, only for Levy to smack him upside the head.

"Be polite!" She said, putting her hands on her hips, "We can't go starting fights here!" Gajeel just grunted, but didn't protest. Zhao Ming looked over them; outwardly they didn't appear different, but they had somewhat strange auras about them, particularly the man. Indeed, his scent was that of a dragon.

"You are not Cathayan."

"The hell's a 'Cathayan'?" Gajeel asked, cocking his head.

"How did you get here?" Zhao Ming asked.

"We honestly don't know," Levy said, holding up her hands, "One minute we were back home in our guild hall, and then we were here." Zhao Ming narrowed his eyes, not sure if he believed them. They did have plenty of reason to lie.

"We'll be on our way right now!" Levy then said, grabbing Gajeel's hand, "C'mon!"

"Hey!" Gajeel protested.

"I'm afraid that's not going to be possible," Zhao Ming said as he stepped forward, his hand curled into a fist, steaming leaking off it, "You're going to have to come with me."

"And if we don't want to?" Gajeel asked, as he (gently) removed Levy's hand, and stepped forward, his own hands curled into a fist.

"That is not a choice, I'm afraid," Zhao Ming answered. Gajeel just grinned in anticipation.

"Gajeel," his wife said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Just leave this guy to me!" Gajeel said, "I'll make sure he leaves us alone."

"This is your final chance," Zhao Ming said, as he held up his fist, "Yield, or fight." Gajeel quickly gave his answer.

"Iron Dragon's Club!" Gajeel said, as he punched out, though Zhao Ming managed to avoid it, his eyes narrowing at the sight. The magic seemed like the Wind of Metal at a glance, it was definitely different than anything he'd seen or used before. He'd dwell on this later, but first he had to deal with these trespassers.

"If you are looking to challenge me in a context of magic, you'd best prepare to be defeated," Zhao Ming said as he took a fighting stance. That only made Gajeel grin as he retracted his fist back, and cracked his knuckles. This was a challenge he certainly didn't intend on turning down.

"Lily!" Gajeel called, "Take care of Levy!"

"You sure you don't need help?" Lily said. As he was saying that, his form shifted das he grew into a hulking, muscular figure that resembled a humanoid panther. That was odd enough, but Zhao Ming figured he'd deal with that later.

"Nah, I can take this guy," Gajeel asserted, as he took a fighting stance, "Besides, he's so cocky, he's begging to be taken down a peg." Zhao Ming narrowed his eyes, before taking a breath.

"Whatever happens next is the result of your actions," he then said, as his hands ignited.

"That's the Fairy Tail way!" Gajeel said, and without another word, he leapt towards Zhao Ming, bringing his fist back again, which turned into a club again. Zhao Ming managed to avoid it again, before he launched a fire ball at Gajeel, who dodged it as well.

"That magic, it's almost like Natsu's," Levy said.

"He was a dragon at one point," Lily said, "He could be a Dragon Slayer." That just begged even more questions. If this guy was a Dragon Slayer, how could he turn into a dragon? Was he like Acnologia? Levy certainly hoped not.

"It seems I have no choice then!" Zhao Ming said. With that, he took a breath, as he brought his arms around, creating a ring of fire around him.

"Now perish in the flames of a dragon's breath!" He then said, before thrusting his arm forward. The flames then surged around him and formed the head of a dragon, which released a burst of fire. Gajeel held up his arms as the flames encompassed him.

"Gajeel!" Levy and Lily called at the same time. Zhao Ming lowered his arms with the spell done; he wished he didn't have to resort to such a tactic, but this man wasn't leaving him with much choice. But then a form burst out of the flames. It was Gajeel, and that was surprising enough, but then he saw how his entire body was now covered in dark colored scales, almost like the scales of a dragon, and his hand had morphed into the shape of a sword.

"These flames may be hot, but they got nuttin' on Salamander's!" The Iron Dragon Slayer declared, "Iron Dragon's Sword!" He swung his sword-arm down, and Zhao Ming didn't have time to dodge this one. Instead, he blocked it, hoping the Burning Vambraces would be enough to take the blow. At first, they seemed to, but then Zhao Ming felt his first starting to grind against the earth…

The blow sent Zhao Ming careening away, as he bounced against the ground. He skidded to a halt against, breaking through a grove of bamboo in the process. Once he stopped, Zhao Ming took stock of his condition, and he saw that the Vambraces were cracked slightly. That made it apparent whatever this young man was, he would take more than what this current form generally could. With that, he started to gather his energy.

"I would've preferred to not resort to form shifting to do this, but I'm afraid you leave me with little choice," he growled. With that, his form erupted into flames, creating a gust of wind that Gajeel had to shield his face.

"You kidding?" Gajeel responded, "This just makes ya' a bigger target!" With that, both the slayer and the dragon inhaled, and released their breath attacks together. The flames and the iron collided with each other.

"Gajeel!" Levy called. Fortunately, her husband quickly jumped from the smoke, as the dragon did as well, snapping his jaws at the black haired man. Gajeel managed to avoid the jaws, as he then brought his fist back again.

"Iron Dragon's Club!" Gajeel declared as he punched outward, hitting the dragon square in the cheek. The sheer force of the attack pushed the serpent back, causing him to crash through more groves, and be left sprawling on his back. He quickly recovered, but Zhao Min was more shook than heart. Feeling around in his mouth with his tongue, he felt some teeth had been… knocked loose? This human had hurt him?

"How did you…," he asked slowly.

"There's more where that came from you overgrown garden hose!" Gajeel asserted, cracking his knuckles aggressively, "So why don't ya' piss off and leave us be now?" Zhao Ming growled as he floated back up into the air.

"How the hell are ya' even flying without wings?" Gajeel then asked.

"You think yourself a Dragon Slayer, do you?" Zhao Ming asked.

"Because I am!"

"Well then, you wouldn't be the first self-proclaimed slayer I've defeated," Zhao Ming said. With that, he roared, as Gajeel did as well, and they sprung at each other yet again…

()

Shang-Yang always felt like a different city whenever its ruler was away, though those times were rare. The Iron Dragon only really left the city to go to Weijin to meet with his kin, or to his siblings when they needed it (in which case he would generally be accompanied by Shang-Yang's armies). Once in a while, though, something would seize attention, and he would fly off to address it. Nobody would ever dare question the will of a dragon obviously, and while it invited curiosity, most were in agreement that it wasn't their business to wonder. But this time, they wouldn't need to, as they all had a good sense to realize what this was all about.

Like most Alchemists, Chen Zhou had gravitated to Shang-Yang to escape the marginalization that many mages not favored by the Celestial Court often suffered. Only those of the Elemental Wind of Stone were truly permitted in most of Cathay, with the Western Provinces being an exception, and even then, they were only truly "welcome" in Shang-Yang, under the protection of the Iron Dragon. It was probably the only place Chen could've learned about his talents without fear of being arrested. Chen was currently standing on the walls of the city, one of multiple people in the city tasked for watching the return of their leader.

"Any sign of him?" His superior, Lin Xiang asked as she joined him on the city walls. In addition to her golden robes, she wore the traditional mask of an alchemist, and her hair was done up in the traditional topknot.

"No, Ma'am," Chen said, as he bowed slightly, putting his hands in front of him. Lin frowned, as she looked out into the distance. Lin Xiang was a member of the Council, with Chen serving as her personal aid. That generally amounted to keeping her day straight, and checking things she didn't have the time for; in that capacity, Chen was more a secretariat than an Alchemist.

"He's been gone for hours now," Lin then muttered, "Just what could he be looking for out there?"

"I could never know," Chen answered, shaking his head. As Alchemists, and thus attuned to the Elemental Winds, Chen Zhou and his peers had been among the ones that had felt it, even if none of them could know what it was. It had been like the surface of a pond when a stone was thrown into it; the Winds had been disturbed, and were in flux. Whatever it was, it was deemed enough for the Iron Dragon to decide to investigate personally, as he took flight, and soared off into the distance.

"His absence always puts the city on edge," Lin said, "The citizenry becomes anxious, and unproductive." Chen nodded in understanding. In the Iron Dragon's absence, governance of the city generally defaulted to the Alchemist Council (a committee of the most skilled in their field), though it was always with the understanding that they were just stewarding, not ruling. After all, humans were not meant to rule, that was the purview of far greater creatures than them. To that end, little was actually accomplished when Zhao Ming was away; it mostly just amounted to them noting what issues the city and provinces faced, and how to bring them to the prince whenever he returned. It could be irritating at times, but Chen understood that was simply the way of things, and he had made his peace with it.

"Perhaps it would be best if-" Chen was interrupted by the sudden sound of a gong; announcing the return of the city's lord. Indeed, standing out in the sky was the serpentine form of the Iron Dragon.

"Praise the emperor!" Lin said with a smile, as she went over to the edge of the wall, gripping the railing.

The dragon gradually made its way way towards the city, but he wasn't heading back to the palace, instead he was heading towards the walls, and after a moment, Chen saw (and was rather shook to realize) that he was coming in their direction. Chen couldn't dwell on why exactly though, especially as the prince came up to them, and he saw something he never thought possible. Zhao Ming actually looked… beat up? His face was covered in scratches, one of his horns was broken, and there were traces of blood along the edge of his mouth. He was also breathing heavily, as if he was tired in someway.

Both of the Alchemists knelt to their prince as he floated over them. Before Lin could ask anything, though, the prince dropped a couple of forms out of his claws in front of them. It was two humans, both of them unconscious; one was a muscular man with wild black hair and iron piercings across his body, while the other was a petite blue-haired woman with spiky blue hair. The girl seemed to be clinging to a black cat of sorts. The man was visibly beat up as well.

"What in the emperor's name?" Lin said, frowning through her mask.

"I found them in the lowlands to the South," the dragon explained, as he floated over them, his harsh voice making Chen's bones rattle, "Bind them, and put them in the dungeon." Lin took a step forward, looking down at the people before them, and as she did, her face contorted in confusion.

"His aura," Lin said, "It feels like…" She trailed off, but she didn't need say much more, since Chen could sense it too. Both of them found themselves looking up at the Iron Dragon, who showed his teeth. But he didn't disagree with them, instead his talons curled, and a rumbling growl went through his body.

"I must report this to my father," Zhao Ming eventually declared, "I will be back as soon as I can." Not giving anyone a chance to ask him anymore questions, the dragon flew away, disappearing just as quickly as he arrived. That left the two Alchemists with the trespassers, once again alone.

"I need to tell the Council," Lin said, her tone turning bitter, "We will be on our own for some time now."

"Yes, Ma'am," Chen said, bowing his head again. Lin then looked down at the trespassers again, her eyes narrowing behind her mask.

"No one can know what we just saw," she said.

"Well, we're going to have to tell the others about these people," Chen said, gesturing to the humans.

"I'm not talking about these foreigners," Lin answered with a frown, "I'm talking about the condition we saw the prince in."

"What do you mean?"

"Word doesn't need to spread that he was wounded, especially by these ones" Lin answered, "If it does, I don't like the other words that'll invite to discussion." Understanding her point, Chen nodded in agreement. While it wasn't like the dragons being injured was unheard of, especially if one served along the Great Bastion, the idea of mere humans, and foreigners at that, harming one of them? The mere thought made Chen's head spin.

"Go gather some guards," Lin said, "Tell them what's happening, and the prince's command."

"Yes, Ma'am," Chen said with a nod, as he turned to leave. As he descended down the hall to find some arms, his mind went back to the wounds he saw on Zhao Ming's body. There were very few things in the world that could harm a dragon, and most of them lived far from Cathay. Just who these humans (if that was what they truly were) were, and where they came from, were both questions that Chen didn't like leaving unanswered. Hopefully they'd be able to explain when they woke up. And if they didn't feel like explaining, the Alchemists always knew of how to make even the tightest lips loosen.

Chapter Text

One thing Karl Franz knew from youth was that ruling was about small duties just as much as it was about big. Little activities like signing documents could have just as big of an impact on Reikland as leading ten thousand men into battle against a Greenskin horde depending on the nature of the document. These lessons became all the heavier when Franz became the Emperor, and every duty ceased being "little" in their entirety.

Franz had been returning from inspecting a garrison in Bögenhafen, to the Southwest of Altdorf. The night had been somewhat restless, which unfortunately left Franz with little energy to get through the day, but he made do, as he was often forced to; it was part of being emperor, after all. But then one morning, as they were breaking camp, a message came from Altdorf, and from none other than the Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic, Balthasar Gelt.

Gelt and Franz had a decent working relationship, but that was more or less the extent of their relationship. The Patriarch generally didn't come to the Emperor unless he needed something, and vice versa, and it was arrangement both men seemed happy with. Franz always found gelt's attitude abrasive and arrogant, making him an all around unpleasant person to be around; but he was still one of the greatest spell casters the Empire had ever seen, and he did his duties diligently. Perhaps that was the best the Emperor could hope for, and all he could really ask. At any rate, Franz liked to keep up to date on magical affairs in the Empire, or at least in Reikland, for reasons that were probably obvious. Unfortunately, Gelt wasn't always the most forthcoming or communicative of men, so Franz sometimes needed a personal servant there to let him know what was going on. That was why it was such a surprise when .

Some protested that the Adviser on Magical Affairs didn't call on the Emperor, but Franz didn't care much for. Besides, if Gelt thought it necessary to personally call Franz, then it must've been serious. With that, Franz took Deathclaw to mount, and flew ahead to Altdorf on his own, save for a small company of pegasus riders. He got to Altdorf as the sun was setting, and he went straight to the Colleges, where he was now waiting in a conference room for Gelt to arrive.

"This is unacceptable," Imperial Chancellor Siegfried von Walfen grumbled, "The emperor should not have to wait on anyone, least of all in Reikland."

"It's no real matter," Franz answered, "If I concerned myself over such trivialities then I wouldn't get anything done in the day." As if on cue, the door opened, and in walked the golden masked visage of the Supreme Patriarch.

"Emperor," Gelt said, bowing his head briefly. Trailing behind him was a younger man with the shaved head and blue robes of a Celestial Magister, who bowed a bit more formerly.

"Gelt," Franz answered, with a nod of his head.

"You got here quickly," Gelt said, "That's good."

"Mind your tone, Magister," Siegfried said.

"Not when there are things that need saying, I won't," Gelt answered plainly, "And I was speaking to the Emperor, not you."

"I will give you this, Gelt," Franz said, folding his arms, "You never mince words."

"Minced words lead to mis-casted spells," Gelt said as he walked around the table, "And I'm afraid we are on a bit of a schedule, so I will make this as brief as I can. Late last night, our keepers in the Orrery Hall noticed a disturbance the Winds of Magic. We're not sure what, but they were thrown into disarray, as if a great hand had reached down, and swept them all about."

"With you so far," Franz said with a nod.

"When I went to investigate, I noticed the Winds were churning particularly aggressively in this very region," Gelt said, "And it was not that far from Altdorf, so I went to investigate personally on Quicksilver." That made Franz frown; he knew that dark things generally followed churning Winds.

"And what did you find?" The emperor then asked. For once, Gelt was silent, as he looked down, though his masked face remained as stoic as ever.

"It would be easier for me to just show you," he said, as he gestured with his head.

()

Gelt lead the emperor and his chancellor down into the halls of the college, and to Franz's surprise, they were joined by a lector of the Church of Sigmar, one Lector Morden. That was strange, since the clergy normally avoided the colleges whenever they could, and when they did come to the colleges, it was to inspect them for any dark infiltration. Even though magic had been an established institution in Altdorf for hundreds of years now, the suspicion stubbornly refused to go away. On the other hand, Franz knew their suspicions weren't always unfounded; after all, a number of their inspectors didn't leave empty handed.

Eventually, Gelt brought the retinue all the way down into the college dungeons (which Franz never understand the need for, this was a school after all), and there he revealed what this was all about. It was three people, two women and a man. They all had certain common qualities, though, to include hair as white as snow. Perhaps they were related? And while Franz was himself a married man, he couldn't deny that both women, particularly the older looking one, were beautiful.

"We found them to the Southwest, not far from Weissbruck," Gelt said, "All around them the Winds were in flux."

"If that's true then we should do away with them at once," Morden said, as he grabbed at the hammer pendant that hung from his neck, "Clearly they must've come from horrid places."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Franz said, holding up a hand, "They could just be lost travelers, or perhaps aspiring mages who botched a spell."

"They are definitely mages," Gelt said, "Of that much we can be sure."

"How are you so certain?" the lector asked.

"I would not expect you to notice, lector, but those who know the Winds can see it," Gelt said plainly (which made Morden grunt slightly), as he gestured to them, "There is an energy around them, a sort of aura, one that marks them clearly as magic users."

"And they have been unconscious all this time?" Franz asked.

"Yes," Gelt answered, "We've examined them as best we could, but they don't seem to be at all out of the ordinary. I fear we might need to wait for them to wake up before we can find out anything meaningful." As he was talking, a servant came hurrying down the stairs.

"And if they are in service to darkness, then we need to act quickly," Morden said, "We cannot afford to take risks."

"So you would immediately throw three potentially innocent lives into the fire based on mere supposition?" Gelt asked, lightly tapping his staff on the floor.

"If it means saving throngs more from an even worse fate, I think it an even trade." As the two were arguing, the servant whispered something in the chancellor's ear, as his eyes widened, then narrowed. He then nodded in understanding, and the servant hurried away.

"Your Majesty," Walfen said, coming over to the emperor (who had been about to step in and break up the argument), "Something has come up, and you are needed back at the palace."

"What is it?" Franz asked, narrowing his own eyes.

"It would be quicker to tell you on the way," Walfen said, gesturing, "But we need to leave now." Figuring whatever the chancellor was on about was urgent if he felt the need to press the issue now, Franz nodded in understanding.

"In the mean time, I'm leaving them in your custody, Gelt," Franz said, looking at the Patriarch, "They are your responsibility going forward."

"Of course, my Emperor," Gelt said, bowing slightly, "I will see to it."

"With your leave, Your Majesty," Morden said, stepping forward, "I would have a lector inspect them as well. If they are at all corrupted, we cannot afford to act slowly."

"Enough of that," Franz interjected, holding up a hand, "The lector has a point. While I'm not going to pass judgement on them so soon, we should be alert to potential threats. That being said, since this is still the purview of the College, I expect the lector to not do anything drastic." That was enough for Morden who gave a smirk, though Gelt's covered face betrayed no reaction.

"Good fortune to both of you," Franz said, looking between them, before turning to leave, "Sigmar be with you."

()

Mirajane was the first to wake up. She groaned as she sat upon, realizing that she was lying on a cot in what looked like a cell; she noticed her siblings lying across the cell in separate cots, which made her let out a sigh of relief. There was a window high on the wall, letting in a little more natural light, which helped with the otherwise dim braziers that hung for the walls of the dungeon they were apparently in.

She wasn't entirely sure what had happened; last thing she'd remembered was she was at the bar, watching as their strongest team was assembled around a table, looking at some tome or whatever that they got for a reward. Natsu was reading something from it, and though Mirajane didn't remember what it was, she did remember one repeated word: "change".

"Mirajane?" Lisanna's voice said as she sat up as well. Mirajane let a sigh of relief at the sight, before she went over to Elfman, and gently shook him.

"Elfman," she said, "Elfman, wake up!" The middle sibling grunted slightly as he leaned up, rubbing his head.

"Ah man," he said, "What happened?"

"I don't know," Mirajane answered, looking around, "It looks like a dungeon."

"A dungeon?" Lisanna asked, "We're imprisoned?"

"Seems to be that way," Mirajane said as Elfman got up, and walked over the bars.

"These bars don't feel magical," Elfman said as he gripped them, "I think I can..."

"Elfman wait!" Mirajane said, holding up her hand, "We don't know where we are. If we break out, where would we go?"

"She's right," Lisanna said with a nod, "What're we going to do? Just run out and hope we find the others." Now Elfman wasn't argue with his sisters, especially not when they had a good point, but it still frustrated him being kept in the cage.

"So what do we do then?" He asked, stepping away from the bars. Mirajane was going to open her mouth to answer, but she didn't need to, as there was the sound of a door opening down the hall. The siblings tried to stick their heads out of the bars to see the people approach, and indeed they saw two men approaching them.

One man looked younger, perhaps around the same age as Mirajane. His head was shaved, and he wore blue robes, with a sapphire necklace hanging around his neck. The other man looked substantially older, and had a bushy beard that blended into his brown hair framing a hard, stern face. He was wearing a steel plate armor, and had a sword and a gun on each hip.

"So, you're finally awake?" The older man asked, looking them up and down, "So then, care to tell us what this is all about?"

"If you want to find out let us out!" Elfman said, "Real men don't hide behind bars, they face their opponents head on!"

"Are you are opponent, though?" The older man asked.

"Depends," Elfman said, gripping the bars tighter.

"Elfman please," Mirajane said, putting a hand on her brother's shoulder. That made him calm down some, as he took a breath, and stepped back.

"Well, I'm Mirajane Strauss," Mirajane said, bowing respectfully, "And this is my brother Elfman, and my sister Lisanna."

"Hey."

"Hello."

"Strauss, you say?" The older man said, arching an eyebrow. The younger man was also looking carefully at them, as his eyes narrowed.

"You're mages, aren't you?" He asked.

"Y-yes!" Lisanna said, surprised how they could tell that so easily, "How could you tell?"

"You have the aura of magic around you," the man said, gesturing with his staff, "What kind of magic?"

"Oh well, we use Takeover magic," Mirajane said, "All three of us."

"Takeover?" The man asked, cocking his head and frowning.

"Yes," Mirajane said with a nod, "You know. Where you absorb the traits and qualities of various creatures to gain their abilities?"

"So… like the Lore of Beasts?" The man said.

"The lore of what now?" Elfman asked, being the one to cock his head this time. That made the young man, frown some more, but he didn't say anything, as he looked away.

"But yeah, we're mages," Lisanna said, "We're from the guild, Fairy Tail."

"Guild?" The older man asked, "As in a worker's guild?"

"Yeah," Elfman said, "What other kinds of guilds are there?" The two men looked at each other, both clearly befuddled by the situation they were in. The older one then gestured with his head, and they both turned to leave.

"Wait!" Mirajane called, trying to look past the bars, "Can you at least tell us where we are?"

"Someplace you won't be leaving anytime soon." With that, the Strauss siblings were alone again.

"Damn it!" Elfman cursed as he grabbed at the bars again, "Why are they keeping us here?"

"And why did they act so surprised when we told them what we did?" Lisanna asked, "I mean, mage guilds are all over the world. And I know Takeover isn't an extremely common form of magic and all, but most people I've run into since joining the guild seem to know what it is."

"I…. I don't know," Mirajane said as she sat on the cot, bringing her legs in, "I don't know what's going on." Elfman and Lisanna exchanged looks, before both of them sat down as well. Really, it was the only thing they could do at this point, and none of them liked that.

"I hope the others are alright," Lisanna said softly.

()

Dieter Durnberg had been twelve when he and his family took note of his magical abilities; fortunately he was in a city instead of a village at the time (Talabheim), which meant he wasn't abandoned or run out for it. More specifically, he had something of a talent for the Blue Wind of the Heavens, and so he went to the College of Heavens. During his time there, Dieter hadn't proven exceptional, but he did well enough in his classes and his studies. Whatever it was about him that Gelt took note of, Dieter didn't know, but it must've been something, as Gelt took him on as his personal apprentice.

Dieter was not the only one who had been tasked to investigate the strange newcomers. Captain Hans Drescher was an officer in the Imperial Guard, a veteran of multiple battles, and a trusted guard for the Emperor and his family. That just left Lector Mathieu, who worked in the Cathedral as an aid; Dieter didn't know much about him, but his master had always told him to be wary of those coming on the Church of Sigmar's behalf. While Dieter was himself a loyal worshipper of Sigmar, and he suspected Gelt was as well, the Church didn't always have the interests of Sigmar at heart; after all, they were just as human as everyone else in Altdorf. Either way, in this capacity, every important office in Altdorf was being represented, without the influence of the others.

"Well, I'm not sure if that was informative or not, but at least we know a little bit more about them than we did at the start," Hans said, as he took a swig from his water skin, "'Strauss' does sound vaguely like a name in the Empire, though. Perhaps in Stirland or Averland?"

"A guild for spell casters?" the lector asked, his lip turning up in distaste, not that it was a surprise to both Dieter or Hans. He was distrustful enough of magic users as was, and in his perfect world, Dieter would be behind those bars as well.

"It's not completely absurd," the astromancer said, "There are guilds for just about every other occupation, why not mages?"

"They all carry that mark somewhere on their bodies," the lector said, "Have either of you seen it before?"

"I'm certainly not familiar with that symbol, but I doubt it's anything severe," Hans said, frowning at the lector, "Most likely it's just the crest of their guild. Many guilds carry crests like that. Not everything is some dark conspiracy, and I think your suspicion won't help this investigation."

"Suspicion saves lives in the Empire, Captain, no to mention souls," Mathieu said, a hard look on his face, "I will not apologize for doing as much. I shall inspect them myself later, and if they are free of corruption, then we can remove them from the city, and send them on their way. But if they aren't, then we will have to act quickly and decisively."

"That is not your decision to make, lector," Hans said, "The Emperor himself put them in the care of the College." Dieter bit his lip, but didn't say anything, not wanting to be brought into this argument. But it was starting to seem like he didn't have a choice.

"I think all we can do is just wait, and find out what we can, right?" Dieter asked. The captain and the lector exchanged looks, before the latter nodded.

"I will report our findings to His Majesty," Hans said, as he turned to leave, "I suspect you all do the same."

"And I shall return to the Cathedral," Mathieu said, "I've spent enough time in this unnatural place."He seemed to be expecting a response, but Dieter opted not to give it; he was told to never take the bait the lectors would dangle in front of them.

"May Sigmar keep you safe," the lector said, before he turned and left. With that, Dieter was alone, as he leaned into his hands with a sigh. Unfortunately, he had his own reports to make.

()

"Leave it to the lectors to think with their zeal before their logic," Gelt griped, as he and Dieter made their way down the hall, "They spend more of the time shifting through ancient scrolls and polishing their hammers than they do working to understand the world around them. Make sure the prisoners are kept under guard, and make double sure that those guards are loyal to the College."

"Of course, Master," Dieter said as he hurried to keep pace with the Patriarch, "Anything else?"

"What did you make of them?" Gelt asked, glancing back.

"I... I don't know," Dieter answered honestly, "I've never felt aura's like there's before. They bring to mind the Lore of Beasts, but that's the extent of what I can tell." That was when Gelt finally stopped, so suddenly in fact that Dieter would've bumped into him if he hadn't been quick enough.

"Keep them close," Gelt said, looking down at his apprentice, "We don't know much about them, and that does not sit right with me. I expect that to change before long, do you understand?"

"Yes, Supreme Patriarch," Dieter said, bowing his head, but as the Patriarch was starting to leave, he called for him, "Master?" Gelt stopped, and only turned slightly.

"The oldest of them, the one who called herself 'Mirajane'," he said.

"What of her?"

"Her aura, it... it...," he trailed off slightly, running a hand over his bald head. Whatever he was referring to though, Gelt picked up on it. The Patriarch let out a sigh, as he hung his head slightly, drumming a finger on his staff.

"Continue your duties as you are instructed," he said, "We will deal with this one step at a time. And keep such observations to yourself from now on." Dieter opened, then closed his mouth, before nodding. With that, Gelt took his leave, leaving Dieter behind, as he looked back over his shoulder. He then spoke the word that both were thinking; he wasn't sure why exactly, though. Maybe he just had to say it in order to truly understand it.

"Daemons."

Chapter Text

Alberic didn't sleep well that night. His mind was occupied on dark thoughts and dreams. To that end, by the time the sun finally crested over the horizon, he had already been awake for some time, watching the sea.

The first thing Alberic generally did in the morning was go to the stables. A Bretonnian knight without his steed was a sad sight, and while they had squires and stable keeps to tend to the animals, most knights were expected to take care of their horses themselves int least some capacity. Of course, Alberic didn't have a horse as his steed, he had a hippogryph.

Hippogryph knights were the absolute elite of the realm; only the Grail Knights themselves stood above them. Stubborn, violent creatures, hippogryphs were not easy to tame, and Alberic had a hell of a time breaking Tempete during his errancy. But Tempete and Alberic had now seen many battles, and he had his full trust in the winged steed. A proud, majestic beast, he had brown feathers and hide, with a sharp beak, and the keen eyes of an eagle.

Also in the stables was the pegasus of his son, Fremund, named Nuage. A handsome steed with dark grey hair and wings, and keen, dark eyes. He had been presented with Nuage when both were young, and Alberic had always looked forward to seeing Fremund joining him on the battlefield. Speaking of which, he heard the stable doors open, as he looked over his shoulder to see his son entering them.

"Father," Fremund said, bowing his head briefly.

"Has the Damsel said anything more?" Alberic asked.

"It doesn't appear so," his son answered, "At least not that the nuns have shared with us." Alberic sighed as he dragged a hand down his face. Of course, he had no right to prod into the affairs of the Damsels, but that left him with a lot in the dark.

"I don't pretend to be a magically knowledgable man, but visions are rarely without reason," Alberic said, "Many Grail Knights started with visions from the Lady." Fremund nodded in understanding, as he rubbed his chin.

"What was it she said?" He asked, "Lines of warriors wearing scaled armor fighting horrid beasts?"

"That much is easy to discern," Alberic answered as he turned his attention back to Tempete, stroking his beak, "Likely referring to a Beastmen incursion. Nothing out of the ordinary there, and our walls have beaten them back before." Admittedly, the notion of "scaled armor" begged a few questions because the armor Bretonnian men-at-arms wore (if they could afford it) was generally chain mail, while knights favored plate armor. True there were some nations that still wore scale armor, though that begged a new set of questions.

"But she also mentioned something about 'walls falling', or something to that end," Fremund said.

"I'll concede that our walls have been breached before, but we have carried the day nonetheless," the duke said, before pausing, "But I will send word to the outposts to be vigilant for any unnatural activity. Best to be prepared." Fremund nodded in agreement.

"But there is one thing that weighs on my mind," Alberic then said, as he looked off into nowhere, "She said something about a 'scarlet crown'." Bretonnia wasn't the Empire; as disparate as the lords could get, there was only ever one crown that all bowed to without question, and that crown was made of gold. The thought of another crown appearing in Bretonnia for whatever reason, it didn't bode well.

"So what are we to do, Father?" Fremund then asked.

"We go about as we always do," Alberic answered, as he put a hand on his son's shoulder, "If the gods are good, we will learn more, and in the meantime, the only thing we can do is wait."

"Your grandfather once told me that men don't seek destiny, destiny seeks them," he said, "I'm sure if wait, it'll find us at one point or another."

"Go to Gwendolyn," Alberic said, "I'm sure she could use your company better than I could." Gwendolyn was Fremund's intended; the daughter of a local baron, the marriage had been arranged when both children

"Yes Sir," Fremund said with a respectful nod, as he moved past his father. Alberic watched his son walk off, before he let out a sigh. He didn't like ignorance, especially since ignorance had a tendency to kill in this world.

()

Erza wasn't sure how long they ended up following the stream. They weren't in Earthland, that much was evident, but knowing where they weren't. For the longest time, they hadn't seen much more than rolling hills and meadows, and as they walked, it struck Erza that this was the longest time she spent with Jellal in sometime. The last time they were this close for this long, they had kissed, and while it was a happy memory, it was also an embarrassing one, and Erza didn't think this was the time or place for it.

Eventually, as they crested a hill, their efforts finally bore fruit. Seated along the bank of the river was what looked like a watermill, and further on were a cluster of buildings that passed for a town. There was also a decent sized castle sitting on a hill looking over the town.

"Finally, progress," Jellal said with a smile, "I wasn't sure if we'd ever find people."

"Perhaps this is where the doll is from," Erza said, holding up the toy she picked out of the water.

"Hello!" Erza called, waving. The woman looked up, and after a brief look of suspicion crossed her face, she smiled.

"Well met," she said, standing up, "How may I serve you?" Jellal and Erza both gave the woman the once over. She looked to be older than them, perhaps in her thirties, and would've been pretty if not for how dirty she was, with ragged clothes with sign of wear and tear. Her hair was all tucked under a wrapping, though a few brown locks dangled from beneath.

"We're travelers, and we're trying to find our way?" Jellal said.

"We were following the river, when we came upon this," Erza said, holding up the doll, "I don't suppose you recognize this?" The woman looked at the doll for a moment, before her eyes widened, and her face burst into a large smile.

"By the gods!" The woman said excitedly, before turning to the mill, "Ada!" A little girl soon emerged from the building; she looked to be six or seven, and she was wearing similar worn clothes to the woman (presumably her mother), and had long brown hair that hung loose.

"Yes, Mama?' She asked as she acme up.

"Look what this kind lady found," the mother said, stepping aside. The girl looked up as she saw Erza holding out the doll.

"Ms. Pretty!" The girl said happily as she took the doll and hugged it tight, clearly over the moon to have it back. The sight made both Erza and Jellal smile.

"She was utterly beside herself without that doll," the mother said, "You have both our thanks."

"It's our pleasure," Erza said with a smile, "Anyway, my name's Erza, and this is Jellal."

"My name is Fleur," the woman answered, before gesturing to her daughter, "And this is Ada."

"Pleased to meet you both," Erza said, smiling back.

"Come inside," Fleur said, gesturing, as she lead them into her home, which was adjacent to the mill. However, calling it a "home" may have been being a bit too generous. It was only one room, which consisted of a table with a couple chairs, a bed, and a fire pit in the center. The churning of the mill was an ever present sound in the background. There was a certain homeliness about it, though, especially as Ada sat on one of the chairs, holding her doll tight.

"My husband is in the village at the moment, but if there's anything I can do to return you kindness, please let me know," Fleur said.

"A map would be really appreciated," Jellal said.

"A map?"

"Yes, something to help us figure out where we are, and where we need to go." Fleur, however, frowned, as she bit her lip, and averted her gaze.

"Well, I'm afraid the only one who might have such information would be Lord Montai," Fleur said, gesturing with her head in the general direction of the castle.

"Well, that sounds easy enough," Jellal said, "We can go and ask him." Hearing that made Fleur visibly balk, as if the idea hadn't even occurred to her. This surprised Erza slightly; Fiore had an aristocracy, sure, but they generally made themselves available, especially mages.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Fleur said, shaking her head slightly, "I'm afraid Lord Montai is currently away on business."

"Do you know when he'll be back?" Erza asked, it being her turn to frown this time.

"Well of course not," Fleur said as if it were obvious, "I certainly wouldn't presume to know the workings of His Excellency." Erza and Jellal looked at each other. This basically left them with the choice of either waiting for the lord to return, so they could talk with him, or walk back into the wild, and hope to come across someone who could help them. It didn't take long enough to settle on the former option; considering what the previous night had been like, they didn't want to be caught exposed out there.

"I don't suppose there's an inn or anything like that in town?" Erza asked. Fleur gave her another confused look, as if she hadn't even heard the term before. It was quickly becoming apparent that this whatever this situation, they weren't going to be getting out of it very easily. At least they had a plan, though.

\()/

When Gray woke up, he felt Juvia cuddling up to him. Now Gray'd be lying if he said he was particularly pleased for that, but she looked so peaceful he was still reluctant to do so. Glancing outside, he saw the sun seemed to be lower, casting long shadows, but even in the shade, he could sense just how blazingly hot it was. They'd wait until the sun was down all the way before venturing back out. Gray considered dozing a little longer, until he heard something on the wind. At first he though it was his imagination, but then the sounds grew louder, and he realized it wasn't.

Hoofbeat; someone was coming in their direction.

"Juvia," he said softly, shaking her. The blue-haired woman stirred.

"My darling?" She asked, rubbing her eyes. Gray put his fingers to his lips, before gesturing.

"Someone's here," he said. Juvia, understanding, nodded, as both she and Gray went to the corners of structure, keeping quiet as the hoofbeats got closer. Eventually they stopped, and Gray deigned to take a peek outside. At first, he didn't see anything, but then a shape appeared over the dunes.

At a distance, it looked like a figure on horseback, as it stood there for a time, apparently looking around. For a moment, Gray had hoped it would move on, but instead, the figure descended down the dune, in their direction. And as it came down, Gray was treated to the last thing he expected to see, let alone wanted to.

For starters, the horse was a literal skeleton, somehow galloping along the and without issue, but that was nothing compared to its rider. He looked like a literal corpse, with withered, desiccated skin, and white robes lined with green and gold, and what looked like bandages were hanging from parts of his body. His faced seemed to be frozen in a permanent grimace, and his head was wrapped in a shawl, with a vulture head on it. He was carrying a staff of sorts that also had the head of a vulture, making it easy to deduce that he was some kind mage.

The corpse dismounted from his undead mount, and looked around. Gray and Juvia exchanged looks, as a silent acknowledgement to not make a sound or movement was exchanged between them. But it wouldn't do either of them any good.

"I know you're there." The voice, while masculine, was dry, and raspy, as if it was struggling to come out. It took the breath right of Gray and Juvia, as they froze.

"I can sense your magical auras," the voice continued, "Hiding is pointless, as is resisting." The Ice and Water mages looked at each other, figuring this thing was right about at least the former. With that, they slowly emerged from their hiding spot.

"Who are you?" Gray demanded.

"That is a question you should be answering," the figure said, his grip on his staff tightening, "You are trespassing in our realm."

"We don't even know where we are," Juvia said, "We came here magically." The figure gave them the once over, as if evaluating the claim they had made. Of course, his face had virtually no expression, it was so desiccated.

"If that's true, then you will come with me," he said, gesturing with his staff. It didn't take long for Gray and Juvia to decide against that; this guy didn't look the least bit trustworthy.

"Yeah, no way in hell," Gray said, taking a step back.

"That was not a request," the corpse answered pointing his staff at them, "I do not have time to give you anymore warnings. You will come with me, or I will bring you with me."

"Look at you," Gray said, putting his hands together, "Would you go with you?" Juvia also took a fighting stance, and it was clear that this wasn't going to end peacefully.

"So be it then." With that, the skeleton swung his staff wide, creating a wave of sand hurtling towards them.

"Ice Make: Shield!" Gray said, manifesting a wall of ice that blocked the sand coming at them. That seemed to surprise the skeleton, not that his face really showed any emotion. But he didn't have time to really respond as Juvia burst forward.

"Water Slicer!" Juvia said, sending out blades of water. The sorcerer held up his staff, creating a turquoise energy field that blocked the water. He then flicked his finger, as the sand churned up again, manifesting as hands, grabbing at her. However, they easily passed through Juvia's Water Body.

"What is this?" The being asked out loud, "Where did you get magic like this?" Neither Gray nor Juvia were paying attention, though, as they pushed forward.

"Ice Make Hammer!" Gray said, manifesting an ice block that manifested over the skeleton, who leapt out the way just in time. He then held up his hands, and began chanting in a strange language neither mage recognized. Ghostly skulls then manifested around him. For Juvia, this reminded her of when she fought Keyes is Tartaros, though the magic seemed a bit rawer here.

The sorcerer then swung his staff in the duo's direction, sending the skulls screaming towards them. Both Gray and Juvia leapt out of the way, as the skulls hit the sand, sending out ghostly lights where they landed. Though the sand itself didn't seem damaged, both of them had a bad feeling as to what would happen if they got hit by that magic. They had to finish this.

"Juvia!" Gray called.

"I know, my beloved!" Juvia said. She then rose up in a pillar of water, as she waved her hands, generating a ring of liquid.

"Water Nebula!" She said, as she sent a torrent of water at the sorcerer, who slammed his staff into the ground, causing the water to part before him. But as he was focused on the water before him, he wasn't paying attention to his flank. He had just enough time to look up as the other mage was upon him.

"Ice Make: Battering Ram!" Gray's ice slammed into the corpse, sending him careening away into the dune. As he slammed into it, the same avalanched down, burying him. The skeleton horse then proceeded to collapse into a pile of bones. With their foe apparently beaten, the Fairy Tail mages both panted, not sure what to make of what just happened.

"Are you okay, my darling?" Juvia asked, going over to Gray.

"Far as I can tell," Gray answered.

"Who was that?" Juvia asked.

"I don't know," Gray said, "Maybe he was a demon?"

"Well, he looked like a walking corpse," Juvia said, turning her lip up in disgust.

"We shouldn't stay here," Gray said, putting his hand on Juvia's shoulder, "He may have friends in the area."

"We need to keep moving," Juvia said with a nod. With that, the two climbed back up the dunes, and ran off in the only direction they could think to go.

()

It wasn't until long after they were gone, and the sun had set over the desert was there movement in the sands. A hand burst out the dune, as the form of the Liche Acolyte heaved himself out of the sand, and into the moonlight.

Khetne let out a groan as he lifted himself up, his body slowly righting itself. Like all Liche Priests, he lay just out of reach of Usirian, and thus just beyond the grasp of death. More severe damage would generally require him having to withdraw to his sarcophagus, but this damage was mostly superficial, enough for his magic to "heal" him.

As he rose to his feet, he telekinetically summoned his staff back into his hand. He shakily stood up straight, shaking his limbs to ensure the joints had all reattached properly. Rubbing his jaw, to make sure it had also mended properly, he cracked his neck, before looking around. The sands had wiped away any racks, but Khetne still had his vultures, and they could track the outsiders without much issue.

Waving his staff, Khetne's steed reassembled itself. Had he been higher ranking, he would've been granted a Necroserpent or a Carrion as his mount, but as an acolyte, he had to make do with what he had. At any rate, he'd have to find the others first. With luck, he'd find them before they reached Khemri. If he didn't, then they would be at the mercy of a being much greater power, less patience than Khetne.

Their magic, however, had been strange, different from any Khetne had seen or read about. He'd heard of the different kinds of magic used by the living kingdoms to the North, but he certainly didn't know anything substantial about them. Going forward, he would have to be more cautious.

With that, the steed galloped back into the sands, to seek the trespassers.

Chapter Text

Journeys across the Arabyan Desert were not especially dangerous so long as a person knew their way. True, there were ogres and bandits, not to mention no shortage of creatures that could kill a man with a single strike, but if one knew the land, they could avoid them without too much issue. It was part of the reason desert guide was such a lucrative career, and one that was frequently passed down from father to son. That was at least how Ali found himself with such a role.

Ali had been a desert guide for some years now, and he knew the desert fairly well at this point, or at least he knew the routes. At the time, he was escorting a band of Reiklanders from the North to the colony down in Sudenberg. They had just made camp for the night, in the shadow of some dunes, more or less out of sight. Ali was currently sitting atop one of those dunes, looking over the landscape. The two moons were out, creating a dark contrast in light over the sands, and made the people less familiar with the desert huddle closer to the fire.

Some of them were gathered together, performing a ceremony dedicated to one of their gods. Fortunately, the people didn't seem to be devotees to the hammer god; those were always the most irritating to deal with, because they insisted on proselytizing everyone they came across. Like most Arabyans, Ali believed in the One God, but he certainly didn't claim to be a particularly godly man.

Shifting his gaze back up, Ali couldn't help but notice something on the horizon. At first he though his eyes were playing tricks on him, but then he saw what looked like lights moving across the dunes. At first he was worried they might've been Djinn, which did lurk in the deeper parts of the desert, were known to menace travelers, and were infamously unpredictable. But then as he looked closer, and Ali saw they were torches from what looked like a procession crossing the sands.

"Here," a voice said. Looking over his shoulder, Ali saw his brother, Mustafa coming over to him, offering his water skin.

"Thank you," Ali said, as he took the skin, and with it a gentle sip. In the desert, one had to be careful with the water they had. It was said that one of the greatest sins in the desert was to waste water.

"Take a look at that," Ali said, gesturing as he handed the skin back to his brother, "Some people on the march."

"Yes, looks like hundreds of them," Mustafa said with a nod.

"Where do you suppose they're going?" Ali asked.

"Who could say?" Mustafa said, waving his hand dismissively, "Some sheik is probably spreading some money around again." Ali pursed his lips as he looked back over the procession. There was always talk about ambitious lords with talks of grand campaigns, but not since Sultan Jaffar had that amounted to anything meaningful, and the consequences of his folly were still felt to this day across Araby. For his own, Ali didn't care much about such rumors; his and Mustafa's father once told them that the only thing a person could count on was the desert. Kings, dynasties, and empires could rise and fall, but the desert would continue. and if one learned how to navigate the desert, the world would come easy.

"Come," Mustafa said, patting his brother's shoulder, "We need to plan for tomorrow." Ali nodded in agreement, as he pulled himself to his feet, following his brother back to the fire.

()

Neither Gray nor Juvia new for sure how long they ran, but by the time they stopped, the moons were both high. They both took some time to catch their breath.

"I think we lost him," Gray said, looking back in the direction they came from. He really had no idea what to make of what just happened; he hadn't seen much of this world, wherever or whatever it was, but what he had seen ranged from unnatural (like the green moon) to monstrous (like the undead sorcerer).

"My darling!" he heard Juvia call, as he looked up to see her having climbed further up the dune, "Look at this." Coming up after her, Gray followed her pointing finger, and saw, of all things, a city.

"What the hell is a city doing in the middle of a desert?" Gray asked, scratching his head.

"From here it looks abandoned," Juvia said, and she seemed right. Even from as far as they were, it was very clear to see that the city was run down.

"Guess the only thing to do is head down there," Gray answered when the question came up on what to do now.

"Are you sure, my beloved?" Juvia asked, "This could be where that monster came from."

"We're exposed out here," Gray said, "At least down there we might be able to find a place hide." Seeing his logic, Juvia nodded, as they proceeded to make their way down the dunes towards the city.

When they came up to the walls, Gray used his magic to create a set of ice stairs for them to go over. As they descended down past the walls, they took in their surroundings. Most of the buildings were in a state of disrepair, and those that weren't were obviously weathered by both time and the sands. It was also eerily quiet, save for the occasional wind. As they made their way through the sand swept streets, they all took note of towering statues of various chimeric beasts, and of grim, skeletal figures. Particularly intimidating were towering humanoid figures with the heads of animals, and massive blades crossed over their chests.

"Just what kind of place is this?" Juvia asked, "It feels…" She trailed off, not sure what the right word was. It definitely wasn't "evil", and "frightening" didn't seem to do it justice.

"I don't know," Gray answered, equally as unsettled as her. Both of them were talking softly, as if scared that something bad would happen if they disturbed the thick silence looming over them.

"Let's just find some place to get undercover, and we'll stick it out there for a while," Gray said, to which Juvia nodded in agreement.

They kept walking for a while, until they eventually reached what may have been the city center. Carving through the plaza, though, was the river they saw from a distance, and now that they were up close, the tree, sickly nature of it became apparent. The water was a dark red color, almost as if the earth itself was bleeding into it. The sight made Juvia turn her lips up in disgust, because if there was one thing she truly hated (aside from love rivals), it was polluted water. It was a sentiment most Water Mages shared; water was the source of life, and to taint it in anyway was a horrible thing for anyone to do.

"Well, we definitely won't be finding any people around her," Gray said, "Not with water like that."

"I think not," Juvia said firmly.

"Maybe if we follow this river, we might find some people?" Gray suggested, "It should lead-" He was suddenly cut off right then, as he was knocked to his back.

"What the hell?!" he grunted as he leaned up, and looked down, to see a skeletal hand having burst from the sand, and holding onto his ankle. A body then pulled itself from it, revealing a bleached white skeleton, holding a curved sword in its free hand.

"Gray!" Juvia called. Gray managed to kick the skeleton off, and scramble away. The skeleton pulled itself all the way out of the sand, as it muttered in a language that neither Gray nor Juiva recognized, but sounded vaguely familiar to what they heard the skeleton out in the dunes mutter.

The sands all around them began to churn and shift, as even more skeletal figures began to emerge. They were all carrying weapons, to include swords, spears, and halberds, with some also carrying shields, or wearing some kind of armor. But that wasn't the worst of it.

Many of the statues they saw as they were walking seemed to be coming to life, stepping off their pedestals, and walking over to them. They also saw what looked like stone serpents emerge from the structures, only they also had long arms, and faces sculpted to look like human faces or skulls, carrying long glaives, while their eyes glowed a sinister green. There were also a number of serpentine constructs that looked like enormous cobras with massive hoods, with skeletal riders standing on their backs. Gray and Juvia then went back to back, as they realized how they were now surrounded by what looked like an entire army.

"What do we do, my darling?"Juvia asked, her tone steady, but clearly frightened.

"We do what Fairy Tail mages always do," Gray answered, "We fight." With that, the two braced themselves. But the army never attacked, they just stood there, as if waiting for something to happen, which eventually did.

One by one, they all fell to one knee (or at least the ones with knees did, the serpents just lowered themselves to the ground), facing towards the pyramid. Gray and Juvia looked up, as a figure appeared in the entryway, and started making its way down the steps. As it got closer, the shape became clearer, and what they saw sent a shiver down their spines.

He was tall, towering over both Gray and Juvia. He had a large, splaying collar, and sitting on his head was a massive, ornate crown, that had a rearing, skeletal serpent on the forehead. In his hand was a glaive longer than he was tall, with a golden blade, that didn't seem to shimmer in the light, so much that it was actively glowing, as if were made of light. But as glorious and regal as he may have looked, his body no less desiccated than the others. His face seemed to be frozen in a permanent grimace, with blue fire glinting from his empty eye sockets. And yet, he seemed to carry himself with a great degree of authority, like the very sands beneath their feet belonged to him, and it was a great privilege to walk on them. Whoever this being was, he was certainly some sort of king.

The corpse approached them, his decayed face betraying no reaction or emotion, before he came to a stop in front of them, placing the hilt of his weapon on the ground. Both Gray and Juvia braced themselves, but the corpse didn't say anything at first. He just looked both of them over, as if sizing them up, before he opened his mouth.

"Bow."

"What?"

"Bow before your king," the corpse said, gesturing with his head.

"We don't even know who the hell you are!" Gray asserted.

"You stand in the glorious presence of Settra the Imperishable, King of Kings, Pharaoh of Nehekhara, Lord of the Earth, Monarch of the Sky, Ruler of the Four Horizons, Mighty Lion of-"

"Okay we get it!" Gray interrupted.

"And yet you do not kneel," the being, Settra, said, as he stepped forward, "You are either very bold, or very foolish. Neither of which I have much interest in. You have trespassed in my city, and my domain. There is only one punishment for that."

"If you think we'll give up that easy, you're in for disappointment," Gray said, as he put his hands back together. Settra didn't answer, he just waved his hand slightly, and the animal-headed statues, known as "Ushabti", didn't even hesitate. They charged at the two, swinging their massive blades wide; while Gray managed to dodge them, they went cleanly through Juvia's Water Body.

"Ice Make: Floor!" Gray said, as he turned the ground into a sheet of ice, causing one of the Ushabti to lose it's footing just enough for Gray to generate a club of ice, and hitting it upside the head, causing it to fall back.

It was then that one of the serpentine constructors, a Sepulchral Stalker, slithered forward, thrusting its halberd forward, which Gray managed to dodge. Juvia then came up from behind.

"Water Slicer!" she said, swing her arms, and creating blades of water at the serpent, who held its arms to block. The water was somehow able to leave gashes in its stone body, which surprised the undead surrounding them (or at least the ones with their minds intact enough to observe).

As the fight continued, it was then that Khetne galloped through the streets on his bone horse, and eventually reached the plaza. He dismounted, pushing his way through the ranks, until he found himself getting grabbed.

"You said you would track them down," Satekh said, pulling Khetne over by his collar, "And you let them get into the city!"

"Forgive me, Excellency," Khetne said, "But they use… strange magic. They caught me off guard, and knocked men ut." Satekh hissed, before looking over at Gray and Juvia, who were still fighting the constructs.

"Yes, their magic is strange," he agreed, letting Khetne go, "They are somehow holding their own against both the Stalkers, and the Ushabti." If Khetne still had the ability, he would've narrowed his eyes at the sight, not sure what to make of what was happening.

During all of this, Settra watched stoically. While he didn't reveal it, he was somewhat impressed. Most mortals wouldn't last an instant against one of his Ushabti or Stalkers, and yet they were doing remarkably well. Perhaps this warranted some more attention than he initially thought.

"Enough!" he commanded, holding up his hand. The Ushabti immediately stopped, and folded their weapons across their chest. Gray and Juvia didn't break their stances, but they did exchange looks as the statues moved back.

"Stand down," Settra said, holding up his glaive, "I will personally deal with them. Perahps this will alleviate my boredom." With that, the Tomb Guard and constructs all moved back without a word, as Settra stepped forward, where Gray and Juvia turned to face him.

"So if we beat you, we can leave?" the former asked, widening his stance.

"That is such an impossible scenario, I'm not even going to entertain the suggestion," Settra answered, pointing his glaive at him..

"You sound like a cocky bastard," Gray said.

"Is it truly 'cockiness', if it's completely earned?"

"Well we're going to wipe that smug sense of satisfaction off your rotten face!" Gray asserted, as he leapt forward, "Ice Make: Battering Ram!" He generated a big block of ice that launched itself towards Settra. The pharaoh just swung his weapon, cleaving the ice in half like a hot knife through better; looking at the blade itself, that was probably a pretty apt analogy.

"Is that truly all you can offer?" Settra sneered.

"Not even close you walking bag of bones!" Gray said with a grin. Sensing a presence, Settra looked up just in time to see Juvia looming over him.

"Water Nebula!" She released a great torrent of water at Settra, who spun the Blessed Blade, creating a wall of heat that the torrent rapidly evaporated against it, creating a cloud of stream that obscured Juvia's view. Settra then swiftly sprung through the stream, swinging the blade wide. Juvia held her ground, expecting the blade to phase through the body like all the others did... that wasn't what happened. Much to the contrary, Settra's blade cut through her side like her magic hadn't even been active. It was so hot it actually cauterized the wound as it was made, with Juvia letting out a pained cry.

"Juvia!" Gray called as she fell to the ground. Somehow that corpse had managed to cut through her water body; whatever was going on, or what he could do, that blade must've been magic. Juvia fell to the ground along with Settra, who got ready to stab down, only for Gray to leap forward.

"Ice Make: Hammer!" he said, creating a hammer over Settra, only for the pharaoh to hold up his hand as the hammer came down. The hammer then proceeded to shatter against his fist. Settra then held up his hand, as ghostly tendrils sprang from his fingertips, that turned into skeletal hands as they came up to him. It seemed this guy was a wizard too. Gray tried to avoid the hands, but they proved faster than he thought, and soon he was ensnared by them. They then brought him over to Settra, who looked him over.

"Your magic is unlike anything I've seen before," Settra said, "Just what are you?"

"We're Fairy Tail mages, asshole!" Gray asserted.

"I'll admit, I don't know what that refers to," Settra answered, as he grabbed Gray's throat, while the spectral tendrils disappeared, "And I'll also admit that I don't care."

"Don't you dare touch my beloved!" Settra looked up to see Juvia using her water to launch towards him again.

"Water Ray!" she then said, as she released a ray of water from her hand. Settra just held up the blade, as the water crashed against it, turning to steam again.

As the Water Mage and the Pharaoh clashed. Khetne knew this battle was long since decided; no one, let alone a mortal, could ever challenge Settra the Imperishable in a duel, magical or mundane, and expect to win. That all said, Khetne supposed he could commend the trespassers for their resilience; they had lasted far longer than most had. That was when he saw some of of the droplets from the clash sailed through the air, over Khetne's head, where they dropped into the tainted waters of the River Mortis. What happened next Khetne probably wouldn't have noticed, unless he had just idly glanced down, and what he did see made him do a double take. Where those droplets had landed, there were now distinct patches of clear water, in the otherwise sickly red. They were quickly overtaken, but there was no denying what had happened, and Khetne could barely believe it.

"Water Slicer!" Juvia then said again, sending several more water blades at Settra, who deflected or dodged all of them without any issue. He then held up his hand, as a hand of sand emerged from the ground, grabbing at Juvia, who managed to slip away.

"Ice Make: Cannon!" Gray said, as he manifested four separate cannons, firing blocks of ice at Settra. Once again, Settra was able to dodge or deflect all of them, before leaping at Gray, bringing down his glaive. Gray responded by attempting to create an ice sword, but Settra easily carved through it, causing Gray to leap away.

"You've been an amusing distraction, but I'm afraid your novelty is wearing thin," the pharaoh said, "Perhaps it's best I end this farce." He seemed to reach up, and grab a beam of sunlight, before throwing it down. There was then a flash of light, and a burst of heat, sending both Juvia and Gray tumbling back, with the latter slamming into an obelisk. He wasn't sure what kind of magic that was, but that almost felt as hot as Natsu's fire. He tried to get up, only to see Settra's blade pointed at his face.

"After all that, you fall so easily," Settra said, "What a disappointment. Alas, it seem my hopes were in vain." He then held up his blade, ready to take Gray's head. Juvia cried out, and tried to reach out in vain.

"My Pharaoh!" Settra actually stopped, as he looked over to see Khetne squeeze his way out of the crowd.

"You fool!" Satekh hissed, as he tried to pull Khetne back, but the acolyte slipped away. He then hurried forward, and fell to one knee before the pharaoh. Settra just looked down at him, with the look a man would give a fly that was buzzing too close to him.

"Forgive me, sire," Khetne said, "But I must beg that you stay your blade."

"And why would I do that?" Settra asked, though he did lower his weapon slightly.

"That girl's magic," Khetne said, pointing to Juvia, "It did something to the river."

"What are you on about?" Settra growled, "What could she 'do' to the River Mortis that has not already been done to it?"

"It seems that the water she creates… purified some of it," Khetne said. There was a period of heavy silence, as Settra fully lowered his weapon, staring at the acolyte. Even some of the priests and guard began whispering to each other, wondering if they had heard that right. There had been many studies and attempts to purify the waters of the the Mortis after the Great Betrayer cursed it, but they had always been in vain. And now this acolyte was claiming this (living) outsider had shown signs of it? It sounded absurd, and indeed, the pharaoh did not sound convinced.

"You lie," Settra said.

"Never to you, great Pharaoh," Khetne said, shaking his head, "I don't know what it was, but her magic has purification qualities to water." Settra was silent, as he looked over at Juvia, who had passed out, and then back at Khetne.

"You are absolutely certain about what you saw?"

"Yes, Your Exaltedness." With that, Settra took a raspy breath, before spinning his blade in his hands, and thrust it into the ground beside the barely conscious Gray's head.

"You will live," Settra said, "For now." With that, he then snapped his fingers, and several of the stone constructs came over, to grab both of them. At this point, both were too weak to resist.

"Take them to the dungeons, unspoiled," the pharaoh then said, before turning to Khetne, "I am making them your responsibility, to include the matter of keeping them alive. Anything that they do, shall reflect on you."

"I understand, my Pharaoh," Khetne answered, bowing his head again.

"Of course, I'm sure you already know the cost of failure," Settra then said, as he walked on, back up the steps of his pyramid, not waiting for an answer. Not that he needed one; Khetne knew what awaited him if he did fail.

With the spectacle done, and the pharaoh departed, the crowd dispersed; the constructs returned their pedestals to return to dormancy, while the priests would go back to their temples, the guard back to their tombs, and the skeletons to the sands, until they were all called again to serve. Khetne then looked over at the two now unconscious mages in the hold of the Ushabti. All of his reason told him that this was a vain effort, that it would amount to nothing, and that he would (at absolute best) be exiled from Nehekhara. But Khetne knew what he saw, and for the first time in all his wretched, undead existence, he was willing to hope.