Chapter Text
Magnolia, Maine, 1846
Zeref Dragneel watched from the ridge as his people filed into the cavern they had dug beneath the hill, following Brother Zash Caine like sheep into the dark. The town had been drying up—no rain, withered crops, dying livestock—and Zash called it an omen: God had abandoned them, he said, and only by listening to him, the voice of Mother Earth, could they be saved. He promised shelter in the arms of nature and a new society founded on knowledge, not church. They would be led by him.
Zeref had believed. He had been one of Zash's most devoted followers, drawn to the man's talk of learning and escape from the corruption of town and pulpit. But slowly, something inside Zeref began to unspool. He began to see and hear things other people did not.
It started with the three armed men who came to Magnolia and would not leave even though Zash insisted outsiders could not be allowed into their "utopia." One night the strangers vanished. Zash told the town they had gone away, but Zeref dreamt of a cellar stacked with bodies—visions of Zash locking the men inside and setting it ablaze. After that, strangers kept appearing to him in daylight: broken men who claimed they had once followed Zash elsewhere, only to be worked to death raising idols and watched as their children were offered up to secure the leader's power.
What finally broke Zeref's faith was the night Zash began separating the men and women, declaring love a dangerous weakness. He awoke to Mavis's terror—her fear was a bright, aching pulse he could not ignore—and it pulled him to the women's chamber. He found Zash there, trying to take Mavis while she bathed. Rage nearly killed him; he beat Zash senseless and looked into the man's eyes and saw nothing human at all—only the cold hunger of someone who had traded his soul for dominion. The "messenger" rhetoric collapsed. It was a cult, and its priest a monster.
After that Zeref never left Mavis alone. He kept his distance from Zash and tried to warn others, but the truth made him sick and desperate; he took to drink, and Zash used his weakness. In the meeting hall, before their community, Zash seized Zeref's will and turned him against his wife—forcing him into an attack meant to rape and murder. At the last moment, Mavis cried out that she loved him. Her voice anchored him; Zeref fought the paralysis and flung Zash from his mind.
The town would not believe that he was the victim. They branded Zeref as the evil one and drove him out. Only Mavis would not abandon him; she went with him. They found refuge with the people of Kardia Cathedral, who took them in and, over time, helped Zeref heal. Under their care he found faith again—faith in God, love, and family.
Armed with that new clarity, Zeref returned to Magnolia to warn his neighbors. He pleaded, shouted, trembled—nothing pierced the web Zash had woven. When Zash declared the world's end and urged them to seal themselves underground for salvation, they followed him into the cavern without resistance, closing the earth over themselves and the lie that had claimed them.
Zeref was shattered by the ordeal; the trauma never fully left him, but time and love began to heal. The love of God, the love of his wife Mavis, and the children she bore him—August and Larcade—gave him a life of quiet happiness. Still, he knew an evil like Zash Caine did not simply vanish. He felt it in his powers: Zash would return, dead or alive, and had to be stopped. In his old age Zeref prayed that if he died before facing Zash again, God would somehow allow him to reach his family and help them against the monster.
And the Lord answered, "Fear not for your descendants. Each of them shall inherit one of your gifts, which will let them see through the monster's deceptions as you have. They will love one another—as you, your wife, and your sons have loved—and that love will be their greatest strength against him."
With that promise, Zeref found hope.
Magnolia, Maine — 1986
Erza Scarlet's hands trembled as she read the letter for what was probably the fifteenth time since she opened it that morning. She kept trying to finish it, but every time she reached the first paragraph her fingers loosened; the paper slid from her grasp and she crumpled to the floor, stunned. Her mind, heart, and soul struggled to accept the words that had already undone her.
Dear Miss Scarlet,
It is with the deepest regret that I write to inform you of an extremely unfortunate event. I am very sorry to tell you that your sister, Grandeeney Dragneel, and her husband, Igneel Dragneel, have perished in a fire that destroyed their home.
The last time Erza had seen Grandeeney she was ten; Grandeeney had been seventeen or eighteen, fresh out of high school and determined to marry her sweetheart rather than go to college. Their mother, Irene, was furious—she called Grandeeney stupid and naive, accused her of throwing away her future for a boy. Grandeeney's answer was simple: she did not want college or a career; she wanted to be a wife and mother. Igneel had a scholarship and planned to study architecture; he could provide for her, she insisted.
When Irene told her oldest daughter that if she married Igneel she would no longer be part of the Scarlet family—that she was "dead" to them—Grandeeney still wouldn't change her mind. Irene confronted Igneel one night, accusing him of using her daughter and ruining her life the way Grandeeney and Ezra's so-called father had once ruined Irene's. Furious, Igneel accused Irene of keeping her daughters like exhibits, of caring only for herself, and of letting bitterness rule her because of a failed marriage. Irene struck him. Grandeeney left with Igneel that same night. Erza never saw her sister again; Irene forbade any contact. Erza obeyed, and that guilt for obeying that command would be a weight she carried for the rest of her life.
When she could finally force herself to read the remainder of the letter, the next lines hit her like another blow.
My deepest condolences for your loss. I do not wish to add to your distress, but I must inform you that Grandeeney and Mr. Dragneel left behind three children who survived the fire: one boy and two girls. According to the will of Mr. and Mrs. Dragneel, you are the children's only living relative and their appointed guardian, should you accept.
You are of course free to decline, but please be aware that if you do, the children will be separated and placed in foster care. You have until the end of next month to make your decision. I hope this provides sufficient time to consider the matter and to mourn.
The funeral will be held August 25th at 10:00 a.m. I hope to see you there, Miss Scarlet. Again, please accept my sincere condolences.
Sincerely,
Gildarts Clive
Erza sat motionless, the letter growing soft beneath her shaking fingers. The room was unbearably quiet, and for a long moment all she could hear was the thud of her own heart and the distant memory of a sister's laughter she had not allowed herself to follow.
In the days before the funeral, Erza could think of nothing else: only the raw, ugly fact that her sister was gone and that whatever chance they might have had to make things right had slipped away. She hadn't been there to say goodbye, hadn't told Grandeeney how much she loved her. Watching the coffin lower into the dark earth on the day of the funeral, that loss crystallized into something else — a new, heavy responsibility that had now become aware to her.
Grandeeney had wanted Erza to look after her children. At first Erza didn't know what to think. At twenty-eight she had no experience raising kids and wasn't even sure children liked her. Grandeeney had been the one who cared for Erza when no one else would: feeding her, changing her diapers, getting her to doctors' appointments and to school, keeping her out of trouble—far more attentive than their father, who chased other women, or their mother, who lived with the bottle. And Erza had repaid that care with silence when their parents drove Grandeeney away. She owed her sister. She needed to atone. She couldn't promise she'd be a perfect guardian, but she could at the very least try.
She met the children at the funeral. Natsu Dragneel, sixteen, was tall and still broad-shouldered like his father; he kept his hand clasped around one of his sisters the whole time, jaw tight, lip trembling as he fought not to cry. Juvia, fourteen, was almost the spitting image of Grandeeney — beautiful, with soft, tender eyes. She cradled the youngest in her lap and carried her around as if the child were still a toddler. Wendy was eight and small for her age: she had her mother's hair and chin, her father's nose and cheekbones, and, Erza's eyes.
They approached her at the reception, gazing at her as if she were a stranger—and in many ways, she was. Until today, they hadn't even known their mother had a sister. Words escaped them as they continued to stare, Natsu keeping his arm around Juvia, who held onto Wendy, the youngest clinging tightly to her sister.
"Hello," Erza said, attempting to break the awkward silence. "I'm Erza. Your mother was my sister."
"We know. Gildarts told us," Natsu replied. "He also mentioned that we might come live with you. Is that true?"
"I'm going to do my best to take care of you," Erza assured them. "I know you don't want to go into foster care, where you could be separated. I promise I'll do everything I can."
They continued to stare. Aside from the color of her hair and eyes, she looked just like their mother. When Wendy first saw her, the poor girl had thought their mother had returned as a ghost and nearly ran to her.
For a long moment Juvia held Erza's gaze, as if trying to read something in her soul.
"Please excuse us," Juvia said softly. The three of them slid a few steps away to talk in private.
"So? What do you think?" Natsu whispered, voice low.
Juvia chewed her lip. "She seems... guilty. Like she thinks what happened to Mom and Dad was her fault. But she wants to help us. She's kind."
"So we can trust her?"
"Yes."
"Should we go live with her?"
"I think we'd be safe with her," Juvia replied.
As they stepped out of the church and settled into the backseat of Gildarts's car, a chilling voice suddenly whispered harshly to them.
"I'm going to get you three, no matter where you go, no matter what you do. I'll find you!"
The older two children trembled but quickly dismissed the voice as a figment of their imagination. Ironically, the youngest knew better.