The next day began with fire.
Literally.
"NATSU, FOR THE LOVE OF—"
Gray dived to the side, rolling across the stage as one of the wooden swords zipped past where his head had been half a second before. The sword embedded itself in the crimson velvet curtain, which immediately began to catch fire.
"MY BAD!"
"'MY BAD'?! YOU NEARLY DECAPITATED ME!"
"I told you I can't use a sword!"
I watched the scene from my seat in the front row of the audience, a teacup in my hands, while Hannes ran around in circles trying to put out the fire with a bucket of water he'd grabbed from somewhere.
[That's the third curtain,] Eos observed.
(I know.)
[And the second near-homicide of the morning.]
(I know.)
[Are you going to do something?]
(I'm considering my options.)
Actually, I was considering whether it would be easier to teach Natsu how to use swords or just rewrite the entire character. Radahn was known for his twin blades, but he was also known for his absurd brute force. Perhaps…
"NATSU!" Erza's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. She had appeared from somewhere, probably the underworld considering the demonic aura surrounding her. "What do you THINK you're doing?!"
"Trying to rehearse!" Natsu held up his hands in defence, the wooden swords dropped on the floor. "It's not my fault these things are impossible to control!"
"They're SWORDS! Millions of people use swords!"
"Millions of people don't have FIRE IN THEIR HANDS!"
I sighed, placing the teacup on the armrest of the chair.
"Enough."
My voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the noise instantly. Everyone turned to me, Natsu still with his hands up, Erza still radiating murderous fury, Gray still on the floor, and Hannes still holding the now-empty bucket.
I stood up and walked to the stage, climbing the side steps calmly.
"Natsu."
"Y-yes?"
"Do you know how to punch?"
He blinked, confused by the change of subject. "It's… it's what I do best?"
"And cover your fists in fire?"
"Since I was like… seven?"
"Perfect." I turned to the rest of the group. "Change of plans. Radahn won't be using swords."
"BUT—" Hannes started to protest.
"Radahn was known for his immense strength," I interrupted. "He held the stars in the sky with sheer willpower. The swords were secondary." I looked at Natsu. "In this version, he fights with his fists. Fists covered in flames that can crack mountains."
The smile that spread across Natsu's face was almost disturbingly large.
"That… THAT I CAN DO!"
"I figured."
[Creative adaptation,] Eos commented. [Or strategic surrender?]
(A bit of both.)
"Now," I continued, turning to the group gathered in the centre of the stage, "before we continue with individual rehearsals, I need to show you something."
"Show us what?" Lucy asked, curious.
"What the audience will see."
I closed my eyes for a moment, concentrating. Illusion magic wasn't difficult for me, not after so many lives of practice, but creating something on this scale required precision.
When I opened my eyes, the theatre had disappeared.
Lucy let out a scream. Gray took a step back, stumbling. Natsu looked around with his mouth open. And Erza…
Erza was absolutely still, her eyes wide, taking in every detail.
Around them, the Haligtree rose in all its decadent glory.
Pale roots as thick as towers snaked across the floor, spiralling upwards to touch a non-existent sky. Faded white leaves floated in the air, some stained pink like dying flower petals, carrying a soft, melancholic light that bathed everything in shades of silver and grey. The floor beneath their feet seemed to be made of dead wood, whitish veins pulsing faintly like the last beats of a heart.
And in the centre of it all, the Tree.
It stretched infinitely upwards, its twisted branches lost in pale mists, so vast it seemed less like a plant and more like a monument to failed hope. Petals fell constantly, an eternal rain of faded white and pink, like snow stained with ancient blood.
"This…" Lucy spun in circles, trying to take it all in at once, her hands covering her mouth. "…this is…"
"The Haligtree," I said, my voice echoing strangely in the illusory space. "The sanctuary that Miquella created. The place where Malenia waited for centuries."
"It's beautiful," Erza whispered, and there was something in her voice that sounded almost… like pain. "And sad."
"The best things usually are."
Hannes was kneeling on the floor, his hands touching the illusory roots that seemed completely solid, tears streaming down his face as he babbled something about "masterpiece" and "artistic transcendence."
[He's going to have an emotional breakdown before the premiere,] Eos observed.
(Probably. But at least it will be a happy breakdown.)
"The audience won't just watch the story," I explained, letting the illusion gradually dissolve, the theatre reappearing around them like ink spreading in water. "They will be INSIDE it. Every set, every moment, I will create it live. You won't be acting on an empty stage. You will be acting in the world that I build."
"That's…" Gray swallowed hard, still looking a little shaken. "…a lot."
"It's the bare minimum to tell this story properly. Now. Gray."
He straightened up, his arms crossed in a pose that tried to look disinterested but couldn't completely hide his nervousness.
"You are Mohg. The Lord of Blood." I walked around him, studying him. "Show me your magic."
"My… magic?"
"Ice Make. Create something."
He frowned, but obeyed. His hands came together in the familiar gesture, and ice crystals began to form in the air, taking the shape of an elegant spear that he held with ease.
Beautiful. Light-blue. Shining.
"No."
Gray blinked. "What?"
"Mohg is the Lord of BLOOD. Not of pretty winter ice." I reached out, touching the ice spear. "Your magic is technically perfect. But the aesthetic is wrong."
"Aesthetic? It's ICE. Ice is blue!"
"Not in this play."
I closed my eyes briefly, channelling my magic through the touch. When I opened them, the spear had changed.
The ice was still there, solid and cold, but the colour… the colour was nightmarish. Dark red, almost black in some places, like blood frozen at the exact moment it began to coagulate. Lighter veins snaked across the surface like arteries, and the light that passed through it wasn't bright, it was sickly, casting reddish shadows on the floor.
Gray looked at the object in his own hand, his expression shifting from confusion to discomfort to genuine horror.
"This is…"
"Frightening?"
"I was going to say disturbing." He spun the spear, watching how the light distorted through the blood-ice. "It looks… it looks like I've frozen someone's blood."
"That's exactly the point." I removed my hand, and the colour illusion remained. "During the play, every time you use your magic, I will apply this illusion in real-time. Mohg didn't control ice. He controlled blood, cursed fire, and obsession."
"…Are you sure I have to be the villain?"
"Absolutely."
Gray looked at the blood-ice spear one more time, then dissipated it with a shudder.
"I'm going to have nightmares about this."
"Brilliant. Use that energy in your performance. Now, Lucy."
The blonde jumped in her seat, nearly knocking off Happy who had just landed on her head.
"Y-yes?!"
"Summon Lyra."
"Lyra?" Lucy tilted her head, confused. "Why?"
"Because we need to discuss the soundtrack." I walked to the edge of the stage, sitting with my legs dangling over the empty orchestra pit. "A play without music is just people talking. We want more than that."
Lucy nodded, taking out her keys. "Open, Gate of the Lyre! Lyra!"
The familiar golden glow filled the air, and Lyra appeared in a flash of starlight, her ornate harp already in her arms.
"Lucy! It's been a while!" The celestial spirit looked around, taking in the theatre with curious eyes. "Oh, what a lovely place! Are you putting on a play?"
"We are," I answered before Lucy could. "And I need your help."
Lyra turned to me, her eyes widening slightly. Something in her expression changed, a spark of recognition that spirits sometimes had when they encountered beings that were not… ordinary.
"You are…" she began, but stopped, tilting her head. "…interesting."
[She felt something,] Eos observed.
(Celestial spirits are more perceptive than humans. It's no surprise.)
"The play needs music," I continued, ignoring her analytical gaze. "Melodic narration. You and I will guide the story through songs."
"The two of us?" Lyra looked genuinely surprised. "You sing?"
"She does," Lucy answered before I could. "Sometimes she plays the lute at the guild bar. It's…" she paused, searching for the right words, "…it's unlike anything you've ever heard."
"A little," I said, shrugging.
[A little. You've made gods weep with your voice.]
(That was ONE time. And the god was emotionally unstable.)
"Can we try?" Lyra asked, excited now, her fingers already caressing the strings of her harp. "I'd love to hear!"
I looked at Lucy, who nodded encouragingly. Around us, the others had stopped what they were doing, not out of curiosity, but out of anticipation. They already knew what was coming. And yet, every time was like the first.
"Alright." I stood up, clearing my throat. "The opening. The prologue of the play. I'll start, you continue, and then we harmonise."
Lyra adjusted her harp, her fingers positioned. "Ready."
I closed my eyes.
When I opened them, I let my voice out.
It wasn't a soft voice. It wasn't delicate or high-pitched like the court singers I had heard in so many lives. It was something deeper, older, a voice that seemed to come from the depths of the earth and the heights of the sky at the same time. As deep as distant thunder, but as melodious as a river running over stones. The voice of a goddess singing at the twilight of the world.
🎵"Once upon a time, a goddess gave birth to two siblings,
Twins, I know, born already marked by a curse,
And they were always together…
One does not grow, the other will rot,
A cruel fate will never yield,
They can do nothing, even with all their might…"🎵
The words echoed through the empty theatre, as heavy as stones sinking in dark water. It was the kind of voice that made you hold your breath so as not to miss a single note.
Lyra had frozen, her fingers suspended over the strings of her harp, her eyes wide. She clearly wasn't expecting… this.
The others, even though they already knew my voice, had that same expression as always, as if they were seeing someone completely different in my place. Lucy had brought a hand to her chest, her eyes already watering. Erza was motionless, her posture rigid, but there was something vulnerable in her gaze. Gray had uncrossed his arms without realising, the mask of indifference forgotten somewhere. Even Natsu was quiet, which in itself was a miracle.
I opened my eyes and nodded at Lyra.
It took her a second to compose herself, shaking her head slightly as if waking from a trance. Her fingers trembled slightly as they touched the strings, and then her voice came in, a perfect contrast. Clear, soft, ethereal, like silver bells ringing in the morning breeze. If my voice was the earth and the thunder, hers was the sky and the starlight.
🎵"You can call him Miquella, or Eternal Youth,
And with rot in my essence, I am, I am sister Malenia,
Forever trapped in time, and I drowned in pain,
Two broken twins, condemned to live,
In a world without love…"🎵
Lucy sniffed and wiped a tear from her eyes. Erza swallowed hard, her fingers closing around the arm of her chair with enough force to make the wood creak.
And then, together, our voices intertwined in harmony, deep and high, earth and sky, goddess and angel:
🎵"We created a peaceful place, where flaws we will accept,
And in his words he said…
I promise to heal us…"🎵
The last note hung in the air like a broken promise, slowly dissipating into the silence of the theatre.
No one moved.
Lucy had her hand pressed against her mouth, tears streaming silently down her face. Erza hadn't moved a centimetre, but her eyes were shining in a way she would probably hate if she noticed. Gray was staring at the floor, his jaw clenched, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. Natsu had a strange expression on his face, confused, but also something more. Something he probably couldn't name.
Happy sniffed loudly, breaking the silence. "That was… that was very beautiful…" He wiped his eyes with his little paws. "No matter how many times I hear it, it always gets me."
From the corner of the stage came a dull thud.
Everyone turned. Hannes was on the floor, apparently having fainted from his chair at some point during the song.
[Drama queen,] Eos commented.
(At least this time he fell on cushions. I think someone put them there on purpose.)
Lyra was looking at me with an expression that mixed shock and reverence, the harp still in her arms as if she had forgotten she was holding it. "That… Lucy said it was different, but…" she shook her head, speechless. "You're not… you're not normal, are you?"
"Depends on your definition of normal."
"So," she said, slowly composing herself, her fingers stroking the strings of her harp as if seeking comfort in them, "is this what you want for the play?"
"This and more. You'll narrate the softer scenes, the twins' childhood, the moments of tenderness, of hope. I'll narrate the heavier ones, the battles, the loss, the waiting." I crossed my arms. "At key moments, we'll harmonise. And in the final act, when I enter as the Traveller… you'll take over on your own."
"On my own?" Her eyes widened.
"You will be the voice of the tragedy while I'm busy fighting." I looked at Erza, who had finally blinked, seeming to come back to herself. "The final battle needs music. But I can't sing and fight at the same time. Not with the intensity this scene demands."
Lyra nodded slowly, hugging the harp against her chest as if it were something precious. "I won't let you down. Or them." She looked at nothing in particular, and I understood that she was referring to the twins from the story. "It's a real story, isn't it? Not completely, but… the heart of it is real."
[She definitely felt something,] Eos said.
"Some stories are too real to be made up," I replied, neither confirming nor denying.
Lyra smiled, sad and understanding. "The best ones always are."
"Lucy, I need you to do one more thing."
After Lyra had returned to the celestial world with promises to practise the songs, I turned to the celestial mage who was still wiping her eyes.
"What do I need to do?"
"Learn to be Miquella."
She swallowed hard, but nodded, walking to the centre of the stage where I was waiting.
"The first thing you need to understand," I began, circling around her like a predator sizing up its prey, "is that Miquella was neither feminine nor masculine. He transcended those categories."
"What do you mean?"
"He was… androgynous. Ethereal. The kind of beauty that doesn't belong to any gender because it belongs to something beyond." I stopped in front of her. "You naturally move in a feminine way. Hips, shoulders, the way you gesture. We need to change that."
Lucy looked at her own hands as if she'd never seen them before. "Change how?"
"Less princess." I took her shoulders and adjusted them, forcing them back into a straighter posture. "More gentle prince."
"Prince?"
"Chivalrous, but gentle. You don't seduce, you inspire. People look at Miquella and want to protect him, not because he's weak, but because he radiates something that makes people WANT to devote themselves to him."
I let go of her shoulders and took a step back.
"Walk."
Lucy took a few steps, still moving her hips too much.
"Again. Wider steps. Less lateral movement."
She tried again. Better, but still not quite there.
"Imagine you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, but you refuse to stoop. Imagine that your every step is deliberate, because you know people are watching and you want them to see strength, not fragility."
Lucy closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them and walked again, there was something different. It still wasn't perfect, but…
"Better." I nodded. "Now the voice. Miquella spoke in a neutral tone. Neither high nor low. Find the middle ground."
"How do I do that?"
"Speak from your chest, not your throat. Let the air out as you speak. Let the words flow instead of jumping out."
Lucy tried a few sentences, adjusting, experimenting. After several minutes, she started to find something, a voice that wasn't the normal Lucy, but also wasn't forcedly masculine. Something in between. Something… ethereal.
"That's it." I allowed a small smile. "Keep practising. You're getting there."
"Now Erza, come here with Lucy."
The two of them approached, Lucy still trying to maintain Miquella's posture, Erza with her usual seriousness.
"Malenia and Miquella's relationship is the heart of this play," I said, circling around them. "If the audience doesn't BELIEVE that you love each other more than anything in the world, nothing else matters."
"Understood," Erza said, as serious as if she were receiving battle orders.
"I'll do my best," Lucy added.
"Good. Then you need to get used to physical contact."
They both blinked.
"Physical… contact?" Lucy repeated, her voice rising an octave.
"You are twin siblings who have spent centuries together, looking after one another, being the only constant in each other's lives." I stopped between them, looking from one to the other. "That means touch. A lot of touch. Natural, comfortable, automatic."
"What kind of… touch?" Erza asked, and was it my imagination or had her cheeks gained a slight rosy hue?
"Holding hands." I took Erza's hand and Lucy's, joining them. "Hugs." I pushed Lucy towards Erza. "Touching each other's faces, fixing hair, wiping away tears."
Lucy had frozen, her hand trapped in Erza's, her face starting to turn red.
Erza wasn't much better, as stiff as a statue, clearly not knowing what to do with the situation.
"You look like two strangers on a disastrous first date, not siblings who love each other," I observed drily.
"It's just… it's just…" Lucy stammered, trying not to look directly at Erza, but also unable to look anywhere else.
"I just need a moment to adjust," Erza said, her voice carefully controlled, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her.
"Adjust to what? It's just a hug. You've hugged before."
"This is… different," Erza murmured.
"Why? Because there's an audience now?" I crossed my arms. "On opening night there will be HUNDREDS of people watching. If you can't do this in front of me, how will you do it in front of them?"
Lucy let out a strangled sound that could have been agreement or despair.
"Come on. Erza, you are Malenia. You've just returned from a battle, wounded. Lucy, you are Miquella. Your sister is hurt and you're relieved she survived." I took a step back. "Show me that."
Erza swallowed hard and turned to Lucy. Slowly, very slowly, she opened her arms.
Lucy looked at Erza's open arms as if they were death traps.
"Lucy," I said, "your sister is offering you a hug. She almost DIED. What do you do?"
"I-I…" Lucy took a hesitant step forward, then another. When she was finally close enough, she sort of… toppled against Erza, her arms closing around her in an awkward hug.
Erza closed her arms around Lucy, but she looked like she was holding a bomb about to explode.
"Erza," I sighed, "she's your brother. Not a grenade."
"I know!" Erza's voice came out strangely high-pitched. "I'm just… concentrating."
"On what? On looking as uncomfortable as possible?"
Lucy made a muffled sound against Erza's shoulder, which could have been a nervous laugh or a sob of panic.
"Right. Separate."
The two of them separated too quickly, practically jumping away from each other. Lucy was red to her ears. Erza was trying very hard to pretend she wasn't equally flushed.
I watched the scene with an amusement I didn't bother to hide.
"You know," I said casually, "for two people who have fought together, almost died together, and presumably trust each other with your lives… you are VERY nervous about a simple hug."
"We're not nervous!" Lucy protested, her voice cracking mid-sentence.
"Absolutely not," Erza agreed, crossing her arms and looking at the ceiling as if something fascinating had appeared there.
"Hmm." I let the sound stretch out, laden with scepticism. "Let's try again. This time, Lucy, you wipe a tear from Erza's face."
"W-WIPE?!"
"It's what siblings do. Miquella looked after Malenia when she was wounded. That included… physical kindness."
Lucy looked like she was about to faint.
Erza had developed a sudden interest in the stage floor.
"Erza," I called, waiting until she looked at me. "Pretend you're crying. Lucy will approach and gently wipe your tears. It's a SIMPLE scene."
"Right." Erza squared her shoulders as if preparing for battle. "Simple. I can do that."
Lucy approached as if she were walking to her own execution.
"Now," I said, "raise your hand and touch her face."
Lucy's hand trembled as it rose. When her fingers finally touched Erza's cheek, they both froze.
"Lucy, you're touching her face, not disarming a bomb."
"I-I know!"
"Then why are you trembling?"
"I'm not—" Lucy stopped, clearly realising that yes, she was visibly trembling.
Erza, to her credit, was trying to maintain her composure, but there was a blush creeping up her neck that had nothing to do with acting.
I tilted my head, a slow smile appearing on my face.
"You know," I said, letting my voice take on a teasing tone, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you two are treating this less like a sibling rehearsal and more like…"
"LIKE NOTHING!" Lucy practically shouted, her hand flying away from Erza's face. "It's just… it's just rehearsal! Normal! Sibling-like!"
"That's right," Erza agreed too quickly. "Completely normal. Professional."
"Hmm." I let my gaze wander from one to the other, my smile widening. "If you say so."
There was a moment of tense silence.
"Let's go again," I said. "And this time—"
"MAYBE WE COULD TAKE A BREAK?" Lucy suggested, her voice bordering on hysteria.
"No. Again. And this time, Erza…" I walked until I was beside them, lowering my voice to something almost intimate, "…you can reciprocate. Touch her face too."
Erza made a strangled sound.
Lucy looked like she was going to have an aneurysm.
"It's what Malenia would do," I continued innocently. "The twins were physical with each other. Touches, hugs, closeness. You need to look like there's no personal space between you because you are two halves of the same whole."
"T-two halves…" Lucy repeated weakly.
"Of the same whole," Erza completed, her voice sounding distant.
"Exactly." I took a step back, crossing my arms. "So. Hands on each other's faces. Eye contact. As if the outside world doesn't exist."
The two of them turned to each other. Lucy raised her hand first this time, her fingers trembling only slightly as they touched Erza's cheek. Erza swallowed visibly, then raised her own hand, her fingers, rough from years of swordsmanship, touching Lucy's face with a surprising gentleness.
For a moment, just a moment, they really looked like siblings.
Two beings connected on a level that transcended words.
Then Lucy blinked, seemed to realise the situation, and the panic returned to her eyes.
"Th-this is…" she began.
"Better," I said. "Much better, actually."
The two of them separated, relieved.
I let the moment stretch before adding, casually:
"You know, Erza, you can relax. I'm not going to get jealous."
The effect was immediate.
Erza froze. Her cheeks, which had started to return to normal, exploded in red.
"J-J-JEALOUS?!" she stammered, her voice rising three octaves. "WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT JEALOUSY?! WHY WOULD YOU BE JEALOUS?! THERE'S NO REASON TO—"
"Wait." Lucy looked from me to Erza, genuine confusion on her face. "Jealous? Of what? Why would Azra'il be jealous?"
"OF NOTHING!" Erza practically shouted. "SHE WOULDN'T! BECAUSE THERE'S NOTHING—"
"I just meant," I interrupted gently, savouring every second, "that you can hug Lucy without worrying. I understand that it's acting. It's not as if it were… something else."
"OBVIOUSLY IT'S ACTING!" Erza was so red she looked like she was about to catch fire. "WHAT ELSE WOULD IT BE?!"
"Nothing. That's what I said." I tilted my head innocently. "Why are you so nervous?"
"I'M NOT NERVOUS!"
Lucy looked from one to the other, her brow furrowed. "I'm lost. Why would Azra'il be jealous of me hugging Erza? You two are… like…" she stopped, her eyes slowly widening. "Wait. WAIT."
"There's nothing to wait for!" Erza said quickly.
"Absolutely nothing," I agreed, my smile completely betraying my words.
"BUT YOU SAID JEALOUS!" Lucy pointed at me accusingly. "WHY WOULD YOU SAY JEALOUS IF YOU DIDN'T—" she stopped again, her face turning red in a completely different way. "Oh my god. OH MY GOD."
"What?" Natsu asked from the other side of the stage, completely oblivious. "What's happening?"
"NOTHING!" Lucy, Erza, and I said in unison.
Gray looked at the scene, at the three of us, and wisely decided not to ask.
"So," I said, clapping my hands once and changing the subject with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, "I think you two need more practice. A LOT more practice. Spend the next hour rehearsing casual physical touch."
"AN HOUR?!" Lucy shrieked.
"Together. Alone. No interruptions." I was already getting off the stage. "Consider it… a trust-building exercise for siblings."
"Azra'il, wait—" Erza began.
"Have fun!" I waved over my shoulder without looking back.
[You are wicked,] Eos observed as I walked away.
(I know.)
[And you are enjoying this far too much.]
(I know that too.)
[…Are you really going to leave them alone for an hour?]
(Of course not. I'll be back in fifteen minutes. But they don't need to know that.)
Behind me, I could hear Lucy freaking out in a low voice and Erza trying to look composed while clearly failing miserably.
Sometimes, being immortal had its small rewards.
"Happy."
The blue cat lifted his head from the fish he was eating (where had he got that from?), his ears pricked.
"Aye?"
"Your role. Let's discuss."
Happy reluctantly dropped the fish and flew until he was in front of me, trying to look serious. The effect was slightly diminished by the fish scales on his snout.
"You are Lux," I said. "The guiding spirit who accompanies the Traveller."
"A spirit?" Happy's eyes lit up. "Like a ghost?"
"More like… an ancestral presence. A beacon in the darkness." I crossed my arms, choosing my words carefully. "In the Lands Between, travellers go mad from loneliness. The journey is long, brutal, and most die alone, forgotten. But some, the lucky ones, or perhaps the cursed, are given a companion. A small voice that guides them along the paths, that offers advice when all seems lost, that reminds them that they are still human when the world tries to convince them otherwise."
Happy looked genuinely interested. "And what do I do?"
"You don't have many lines. But the ones you have are important." I crouched down to his eye level. "You appear at key moments. When the Traveller is lost. When the pain threatens to consume everything. You are the anchor that keeps her connected to her humanity. The light that doesn't let her forget why she's still fighting."
"That sounds… serious."
"It is."
Happy straightened his posture, trying to look solemn. For about three seconds, he managed it. Then a fly buzzed past and his eyes automatically followed it.
"Happy."
"Aye! Sorry! I was paying attention!"
I sighed. "Let's practise. Imagine I am the Traveller. I've just defeated Malenia. I'm on my knees, exhausted, questioning everything. What do you do?"
Happy thought for a moment. Then, slowly, he flew to my shoulder. His little paw touched my cheek gently.
"You are not alone," he said, his voice softer than I expected. "You never were."
[Impressive,] Eos admitted. And there was something strange in her tone. [The role is… fitting.]
(Are you jealous of a blue cat playing you?)
[I do not get jealous.]
(You are TOTALLY jealous.)
[…Shut up.]
I looked at the cat on my shoulder, genuinely surprised.
"That was… very good, Happy."
"Really?!" The seriousness evaporated instantly, replaced by his usual cheerfulness. "I practised! Natsu helped me!"
"Natsu helped you to be serious and emotional?"
"No, he helped me memorise the lines. I did the serious part myself!"
"…Huh."
Perhaps this blue cat had more layers than I gave him credit for.
[He captured my essence,] Eos said, trying to sound indifferent and failing miserably. [The part about being a constant and comforting presence. It's… acceptable.]
(You're FLATTERED.)
[I am not—]
(The cat moved you. Admit it.)
[…Next subject.]
"You'll have to maintain that energy for the entire play," I warned Happy. "No getting distracted by fish, flies, or anything else."
"I can do it! I'll be the best guiding spirit ever!"
"We'll see."
"Hey, Azra'il?"
"Hm?"
"Why is this story so sad?"
The question caught me off guard. I looked into Happy's large, innocent eyes.
"Because…" I paused, searching for words. "…because sometimes the saddest stories are the most important to tell. They remind us of what matters. Of what we can lose if we don't pay attention."
Happy was quiet for a moment, processing.
"So we tell them so people don't forget?"
"Exactly."
"Then I'll do my best." He nodded with determination. "So no one forgets."
I felt something tighten in my chest. Something that had no name, but that was strangely… warm.
"I know you will, Happy."
The sun was setting when I finally called an end to the rehearsals.
Everyone was exhausted. Natsu had burned three more curtains practising his "Radahn punches" (Hannes had given up crying and was now just accepting the losses in stoic silence). Gray had spent hours practising looking "sinister and obsessed," which basically meant him making his normal grumpy face but with dramatic lighting. Lucy and Erza had eventually managed a hug that looked genuine (after I came back and supervised, completely ignoring the death glares Erza was shooting me).
And Happy had taken his role seriously for the rest of the day, which was possibly the biggest miracle of all.
"Tomorrow," I said to the gathered group, "we rehearse the emotional scenes. The difficult ones. The ones that will demand more from you than any battle."
"More difficult than today?" Lucy asked, looking exhausted just at the thought.
"Today was a warm-up." I smiled in a way that clearly did not comfort them. "Tomorrow, I'm going to make you cry."
"She's joking, right?" Natsu whispered to Gray.
"I never know," Gray whispered back.
"Rest well." I turned my back and started walking towards my room. "You're going to need it."
[You're enjoying this too much,] Eos observed as I climbed the stairs.
(Maybe.)
[Teasing Erza and Lucy, making Gray look frightening, giving Happy responsibility…]
(All part of the creative process.)
[You're having fun.]
I smiled at nothing as I opened the door to my room.
(Maybe a little.)
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Author's Note
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Before the Elden Ring lore police show up armed with torches, pitchforks, and screenshots of extremely obscure item descriptions:
Yes, this play is inspired by the story of Malenia and Miquella.
And no, it does not follow the game's canon line by line, frame by frame, item by item.
Some things were changed.
Some things were rearranged.
Some things were simplified.
And some things were adapted because turning Elden Ring lore into a theatre play inside Fairy Tail requires a little more sanity than the original game usually allows.
The goal here isn't to recreate Elden Ring as a narrative walkthrough, it's to adapt the heart of the tragedy:
the obsessive devotion, the inevitable rot, the endless waiting, the hope that slowly turns into obsession.
Think of it as:
"Elden Ring, stage edition"
"Malenia & Miquella, now with rehearsals, music, and supervised trauma"
So if you notice differences in timeline, interpretation, or symbolism:
take a deep breath, drink an Estus (or some tea 🍵), and trust the process.
It's not a mistake.
It's not an oversight.
It's intentional adaptation.
Now, back to our regularly scheduled artistic suffering 😌
Thank you for reading 💛