In the heart of Era, atop the mountain plateau where the air itself seemed to hum with magic, stood the Headquarters of the Magic Council — the silent center of Ishgar's authority.
Massive stone spires reached toward the heavens, bound together by lattices of shimmering enchantments. The walls pulsed faintly with blue veins of magic, like the arteries of a living giant. Countless runes crawled across the pillars, glowing softly as they synchronized with the continent's leylines.
Within its deepest halls, vast crystal arrays floated in perfect formation — measuring, calculating, and monitoring the ebb and flow of magical energy across the entire continent. They shone and rotated soundlessly, casting reflections over the polished marble floor that gleamed like still water.
Every tremor of magic, every surge of power — whether born from a spell in Magnolia or an explosion in the north — was recorded here, in Era's unblinking eye.
And at the very core of this silent fortress stood the Chamber of the Ten, where the highest arbiters of the magic world convened each week to decide the fates of guilds, mages, and kingdoms alike.
The chamber was a circle of solemn grandeur: black marble walls adorned with silver filigree, torches burning blue with spellfire, and a domed ceiling that shimmered with illusionnary constellations. Ten seats of carved stone surrounded a great round table, each bearing the crest of one of Ishgar's ruling members.
Tonight, the seats were filled. The Ten Councillors had gathered — and the air was heavy.
Councillor Org, the oldest among them, adjusted his cloak, the deep lines of experience carving furrows around his eyes. His voice, gravelly but composed, broke the silence first.
"Earlier this week," he began, "I spoke with Saint Mage Makarov regarding the recent attack in Clover Town."
All eyes turned toward him. Even the faint hum of the crystal monitors seemed to quiet.
He continued, his tone steady but grave. "As you all know, the number of Dark Guilds has grown disturbingly in the past year. They've become bolder — reckless enough to strike at a meeting of guild masters. What's worse… they managed to resurrect a demon of Zeref."
A murmur swept through the table.
Councillor Michello, a short, sharp-faced man with a voice like cracking glass, slammed a fist on the arm of his chair. "Then we should send the Rune Knights at once! Launch a crusade, burn their hideouts, purge every last fanatic that follows that damned Zeref!"
Across from him, Yajima, calm and composed as always, folded his hands before speaking softly. "We cannot act in haste, Councillor Michello. Rash actions will bring retaliation from the Baalam Alliance. The three great Dark Guilds will not stand idle if we provoke a war against the people under their banner. Their strength rivals our own, and the casualties would be catastrophic."
Michello scowled but said nothing more.
The murmurs grew louder, tension thickening — until a measured tapping cut through the air.
Chairman Sean Crawford, seated at the head of the circle, had raised his hand. Two light taps on the stone table echoed like a gavel.
"Enough," he said. His voice carried easily, smooth and resonant, brooking no argument. "The dark guilds are indeed a concern… but not the true problem."
The others fell silent instantly.
Crawford leaned forward, his eyes half-shadowed by the flickering blue flames. "Our greater issue lies elsewhere — with an organization that revealed itself during that same incident."
The word organization hung heavy.
He continued, tone low and deliberate. "Shadow Garden."
The name itself seemed to dim the chamber's light.
"As you know," Crawford went on, "a group of mages has been acting from the shadows, targeting cults of Zeref and dark guilds affiliated with his demons. Until now, their actions were isolated, precise — almost surgical. But the latest reports…" He paused, tapping a document on the table. "They reveal a power far greater than we anticipated."
Org nodded grimly. "You refer to the one who destroyed the demon in Clover."
"Precisely." Crawford's gaze swept the room. "A demon of that class — Lullaby, born of Zeref's own magic — was annihilated in a single strike. Not sealed. Not banished. Destroyed."
He let the word echo.
A stunned silence followed.
Even Yajima's calm expression flickered with disbelief. "Destroyed… completely?"
"Completely," the Chairman confirmed. "No remains. No trace. Just residual ash and a crater."
Michello snorted, regaining his voice. "Then we should treat them for what they are — a Dark Guild in disguise! Anyone operating outside our jurisdiction, no matter their target, is a threat. Label them criminals and arrest them on sight!"
"Harsh words," Yajima countered evenly, his tone a quiet blade. "You would punish those who fight the darkness because they don't seek our permission? They've destroyed a demon that has haunted Ishgar's history for centuries. For that, they deserve our thanks — not our suspicion."
Michello scoffed. "And what happens when they turn that strength against us?"
Before Yajima could reply, a new voice joined in — firm, cold, and distinctly female.
Councillor Belno, her violet eyes gleaming under her hood, leaned forward. "Yajima, your optimism blinds you. We cannot allow such a powerful, unsupervised faction to roam unchecked. An organization that strong, operating without oversight, could become a threat far greater than the Baalam Alliance itself."
"Exactly my point," Michello said quickly, as if taking cover behind her words.
Belno ignored him. "If they have the power to destroy a demon of Zeref outright, then they possess magic beyond ordinary human limits. Such power belongs in Council hands, or it will bring disaster."
A few heads nodded around the table.
Yajima's calm demeanor didn't waver. "And if they refuse?"
"Then," Belno replied coldly, "we eliminate them before they decide we are next."
Chairman Crawford exhaled slowly, letting the tension linger. "Enough. We will not rush to such extremes." His fingers traced faint runes on the tabletop, causing a small crystal to rise and spin above his palm — a visual of the magical energy readings from Clover.
The projection flickered: first the unstable pulse of Lullaby's curse… then a flash of overwhelming magic that erased it completely.
"That," Crawford said quietly, "was recorded from over three hundred kilometers away. Whatever this Shadow is, his magic signature is… unreadable. No conventional energy flow. It's like the world itself bent for an instant, then reset."
Org stroked his beard. "I've lived through wars, but never felt power like that. It's neither light nor dark. It simply is."
Crawford nodded. "Which means we must reassess our stance. Shadow Garden may not be an ally — but they are not our enemy yet. We will observe. Learn. And act accordingly."
The council members exchanged wary glances, the faint hum of the crystals resuming overhead.
For the first time in many years, even in this fortress of order, something unknown had entered their carefully measured world — something they could not classify, nor control.
And in that silence, heavy and electric, one unspoken truth hung in the air:
The balance of power in Ishgar had begun to shift.