Chapter 39. Lunaria's Offer.
The air shimmered as Lunaria's lips curved. Her smile gentle as moonlight and ancient enough to birth worlds.
"I did not summon you here for violence, wolf." Her voice was soft, but the space around them tightened, as if the realm itself held its breath beneath her words.
Gavin turned, jaw tense. Lunaria's gaze met his, and the weight behind it softened, not out of mercy, but amused patience. A god indulging a child.
"I called you here," she continued, "because destiny rarely waits for mortals to be ready. And you, Gavin Lykos, require guidance… and tempering." A flash of recognition lit Gavin's eyes.
Her gaze flicked to Erza's hand in his. A knowing warmth, sharp as a blade wrapped in silk.
"Young woman," Lunaria said. "Your name." Light sparked around the pool as the air shimmered with weight.
Erza drew in a breath; her spine straight, fear swallowed like fire.
"Erza O'Malley." Her voice was stronger than she expected.
Lunaria's expression glowed with approval, and something older, heavier, like seeing the outline of fate etched on bone.
"Erza," she murmured. "Do you love this reckless creature who stands before you, claws bared at gods?"
Erza didn't flinch.
Her chin lifted.
"Yes. With all my heart." A simple reply, for a dangerous question.
Gavin exhaled sharply, a sound halfway between a laugh and breaking down. The admission cracked something raw in him, even here, before divinity.
Lunaria watched them, silver eyes swirling like galaxies. The light reflected off Erza's hand as she gripped Gavin's.
"Then hear me. Strength is not merely muscle and mana. It is devotion, iron-willed loyalty, the courage to bleed beside another when the world burns."
Lunaria stepped forward and reality gently parted around her like silk.
"Gavin," she said, tone shifted to something vast. "You asked if I could show you the past… show you your family's final moments."
His breath hitched. His voice was low, trembling, furious.
"I need to know what happened." He couldn't stop, not when he was so close.
"You desire the comfort of pain," Lunaria whispered. "But wounds replayed do not heal. They only bleed anew." Screams filled Gavin's mind for a moment. Chaos, fire, explosions and death flickered through his mind. His stomach turned from the influx of flashes as he paled.
The meadow dimmed around her, light tucking itself away like frightened fireflies. "What matters is not how they died," she continued, "but that their sacrifice reached you. You live. That is their victory." The images and impressions in Gavin's mind faded.
Gavin clenched his jaw, anger and grief twisting. His mana flared around him in reflex to his turbulent emotions. "So, this whole meeting is riddles? Lessons? No answers?" His voice rose in pitch with every question.
Something shifted. A faint hum rolled across the realm, like a mountain awakening.
Lunaria's gaze sharpened. "Careful, wolf." She didn't raise her voice.
Power simply gathered, like stars aligning. "To demand from a god is to forget what you are."
Erza squeezed his hand, a silent plea and anchor. Gavin forced his breath steady, forcing the wolf inside down.
Lunaria's expression gentled again — endless patience, endless authority.
"There is purpose here."
She reached into light itself, and it bent around her hand, forming a silver locket. It pulsed like a heartbeat and reflected the light into a beautiful rainbow of colors.
She placed it in Erza's palm. "For when death reaches for you. Whisper my name, and life will answer."
Erza's breath trembled. "Thank you." The locket was warm to her palms. Like light itself forged into metal.
"One use," Lunaria reminded her, no softness in her voice. "Choose wisely whom you deny the grave."
She turned her gaze back to Gavin. "You plan to train at Allario."
"I do." His voice steadied, resolute steel under strain. "I won't stay weak."
"That resolve will be tested," Lunaria murmured. "And she will need strength to stand beside you — not behind."
Erza inhaled sharply. "What must I do?" I refuse to stay weak, helpless. I couldn't even make a dent in the Valkyrie's armor.
Lunaria didn't ask. She spoke fate aloud. "You will train with the Valkyrie sisters. Their methods are merciless. Their path brushes death."
A hush fell so absolute even light stilled.
Erza glanced over her shoulder at the sisters. She lifted her chin defiantly. "If that's what it takes, I'll do it." There was a spark of respect in Astrid's cold eyes.
Lunaria smiled brilliantly, terrifying, tender. "Good. Mortals who tremble and step forward anyway are the ones who change worlds."
Behind her, the air rippled, two halos formed above Astrid and Kara like eclipsed suns. Both their wings fluttered behind their backs. Kara flinched; Astrid bowed her head in silent oath.
"Do not let her die," Lunaria commanded. Not a request.
A decree that shook the soil beneath them.
She turned then, sunlight folding around her form, reality mending in her wake.
"Return, wolf. Grow. The world turns toward war."
Gavin tried to step forward, his voice trembled "Wait—"
The goddess didn't look back.
"When the time is right, answers will come. Not before."
Power pressed down, not cruelly, but undeniably final.
A boundary between mortal and divine.
Drake gestured. "Come."
Gavin hesitated; pain and fury choked him until Erza's hand tugged him.
Not here.
Not now.
He swallowed hard, nodded and they followed.
The meadow breathed again. The air felt thinner. Real. Mortal.
Drake's voice was low. "Patience, wolf. She sees further than we can fathom."
Gavin didn't reply. He only breathed, trembling with fury unspent.
Behind them, Lunaria's realm pulsed once, as if the goddess whispered through the light:
"Live. Endure. Become."
And then the mortal world called them home.