Of all the pathetic ways to spend my time, doing special effects for a fifth-rate play was definitely at the top of the list.
"Come on, Azra'il! It'll be fun!"
I looked at Lucy with the deadest expression I could muster, which, considering how many times I've already died, was very dead indeed.
"Your definition of 'fun' and mine are VERY different, blondie."
The train rattled along the tracks towards Onibus, a town famous for its theatre and festivals. I was leaning against the window, watching the scenery pass with all the enthusiasm of a particularly depressed rock.
[You're being dramatic,] Eos observed.
(I'm being realistic. Special effects for the theatre. THIS is what my immortal existence has come to.)
[You could have refused the mission.]
(Erza dragged me. Literally. By the feet.)
[You let her drag you.]
(…)
[You were curious about the theatre, admit it.]
(I'm not admitting anything.)
On the other side of the carriage, Natsu was in his usual state of transport-related misery, green, groaning, and looking like he was about to be sick at any moment. Gray was as far away from him as possible, probably to avoid being hit by any… unexpected expulsions. Erza was reading a pamphlet about the theatre with the intensity of someone studying for a life-or-death exam. And Happy was asleep on Lucy's head, drooling slightly.
Normal. All depressingly normal.
"I could be sleeping right now," I muttered to no one in particular. "Or drinking tea. Or sleeping WHILE drinking tea. But no. I'm on a train, going to make glorified fireworks."
"They're not fireworks," Lucy protested. "They're magical special effects! It's art!"
"It's a waste of my talent."
"What talent? You sleep twenty hours a day!"
"Exactly. I'm VERY talented at sleeping. And you lot are depriving me of it."
Lucy opened her mouth to retort, but the train began to slow down. We were arriving.
Thank the gods. Or whoever was in charge of this universe. If anyone was.
(Spoiler: they probably weren't. The universe was too chaotic to have competent management.)
The Royal Theatre of Onibus was, I reluctantly admit, impressive.
It wasn't a decadent or crumbling building as I had expected. It was a solid, elegant structure, with marble columns at the entrance and gold detailing on the frames. The kind of place that screamed "tradition" and "prestige" and "probably has ghosts backstage."
[No spectral presence detected,] Eos informed.
(A shame. Ghosts would be more interesting than this mission.)
A short, big-headed man was waiting for us at the entrance, pacing back and forth with the frantic energy of someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Messy purple hair, crooked glasses, ink stains on his hands, the classic look of an artist in crisis.
"Fairy Tail?!" He practically ran to us. "Are you from Fairy Tail?! Please, say you are!"
"We are," Erza confirmed with her authoritative voice. "I am Erza Scarlet, and these are—"
"It doesn't matter! I mean, it matters, but not now!" He grabbed her hands in desperation. "You have to help me! It's a catastrophe! A disaster! A theatrical apocalypse!"
I exchanged a look with Gray. He shrugged.
"Sir…?" Lucy tried.
"Hannes! Director Hannes! Thirty years in the business and I've never, NEVER, been through anything like this!" He finally let go of Erza and started pacing in circles, pulling at his own hair. "They left! All of them! Even Ricardo, who's been with me from the start! THIRTY YEARS, and he abandons me a week before the premiere!"
"Who left?" Erza asked, trying to keep up.
"The actors! All my actors! They quit! Last night! By letter! THEY DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME TO MY FACE!"
Oh.
This was getting interesting.
"Why did they quit?" Lucy asked, genuinely curious.
Hannes stopped pacing. His shoulders slumped. Suddenly, he looked very, very tired.
"Because…" he sighed deeply, "…because all our plays have been a failure. One after another. The audience doesn't come anymore. The critics destroy us. And the actors…" another sigh, "…they said they couldn't stand performing bad scripts anymore."
Silence.
"Bad scripts?" Erza frowned.
"I try! I really do!" Hannes pulled a crumpled manuscript from his pocket and held it up as evidence. "But nothing works! I rewrite, I adapt, I—"
"May I see that?"
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Everyone looked at me. Hannes blinked, confused, as if he had just noticed my existence.
"Y-you want to see the script?"
I held out my hand without replying.
He hesitated for a second, then handed over the manuscript.
I read the first page. Then the second. Then the third.
[Your blood pressure is rising,] Eos observed.
(Because this is an ATROCITY.)
The script was… how to describe it? Imagine all the most worn-out fairy tale clichés. Now imagine them written by someone who has clearly never read a real book in their life. Now add dialogue that would make a five-year-old roll their eyes.
"The Princess and the Dragon of the Enchanted Valley," I read the title aloud, my voice completely devoid of emotion.
"It's a classic!" Hannes defended. "A timeless tale of love and—"
"It's rubbish."
The silence that followed was almost palpable.
"A-Azra'il!" Lucy hissed.
I ignored her.
"The princess," I continued, flicking through the pages, "spends the ENTIRE play trapped in a tower, screaming 'help' at regular intervals. She does NOTHING. Doesn't try to escape. Has no personality. Has no motivation beyond 'being rescued'."
Hannes opened his mouth to protest.
"The dragon," I cut him off, "is the villain because… just because? There's no explanation. No backstory. He shows up, breathes fire, and dies in the third act. What fascinating development."
"But the prince—"
"The prince appears out of NOWHERE halfway through the play, with no prior establishment, kills the dragon with a sword he apparently found in a stone, cliché, by the way, and marries the princess he's known for literally five minutes."
I closed the manuscript with more force than necessary.
"This isn't a script. It's an offence to dramaturgy. I'm not surprised your actors fled. I would have too."
Hannes looked like he was about to cry.
Lucy looked horrified at my lack of tact.
Erza looked… thoughtful?
Natsu had finally recovered from his motion sickness and was looking around confused. "Hey, what are we talking about?"
"The death of theatre as an art form," I replied drily.
"Oh… Is that bad?"
[His cognitive capacity remains impressively limited,] Eos commented.
(At least he's consistent.)
"S-so…" Hannes stammered, "…you're not going to help us?"
"The mission was to do special effects," Gray pointed out. "Not to act."
"But I have no actors! The premiere is in a week! I've already sold half the tickets!" Hannes was on the verge of tears now. "If this play fails too, the theatre will close! Thirty years of history, gone!"
I looked at him. At his desperate expression. At the beautiful theatre behind him, which had clearly seen better days despite its solid structure.
And then I looked at the manuscript in my hand. That abomination of a script that was an insult to everything I had ever learned about narrative in my millennia of existence.
[You're thinking of something,] Eos observed.
(Maybe.)
[Something that will be a lot of work.]
(Probably.)
[Something you would normally avoid like the plague.]
(Definitely.)
But the thing is… theatre. THEATRE. One of the few art forms I genuinely respected. That I had practised in past lives. That I understood on a level most people would never reach.
And to see it being massacred by mediocre scripts…
"Hannes."
He lifted his head, his eyes red with unshed tears, a fragile hope trembling in his expression.
"If, and this is a very big 'if'..." I crossed my arms, letting the silence stretch for a moment. The director was practically holding his breath. "…we agree to act in this play, I'll write the script."
Absolute silence. Even the birds outside seemed to stop singing.
"Y-you'll write it?" Lucy asked, her eyes so wide they looked like they were about to pop out of her head.
"WHAT?!" Gray and Natsu said in unison, exchanging confused glances.
"Azra'il, are you sure—" Erza began, taking a step forward with a frown.
"I do a lot of things you don't know about." I turned my face towards Lucy, holding her gaze. "You just never asked."
[You're exposing yourself,] Eos warned.
(Just a little. Nothing that will raise real suspicion.)
Hannes was looking at me as if I were a divine apparition, mouth agape, hands clasped against his chest as if in prayer. Which, technically, wasn't that far from the truth.
"You… you would write a new script?" He swallowed hard, his voice failing. "In less than a week?"
"No." I watched the colour drain from his face, his shoulders slumping as if someone had cut the strings holding him up. "In one night."
"ONE NIGHT?!" Lucy took a step back, her hands flying to her face. Gray choked on his own saliva. Hannes grabbed the doorframe to keep from falling.
Natsu just scratched his head, messing up that pink mane even more. "Is that a lot or a little?"
"It's impossible!" Hannes let go of the doorframe and started gesturing frantically, his hands slicing through the air as if trying to sculpt the magnitude of the absurdity I had just uttered. "A full script, with dialogue, stage directions, character development… it takes MONTHS! Years, sometimes!"
"For you, maybe." I examined my nails with studied disinterest. "I'm more efficient."
[Arrogant,] Eos commented.
(Realistic. I've written entire epics in less time. In languages that don't even exist anymore.)
"But—"
"Hannes." I lowered my hand and met his eyes, letting my voice gain a weight that made him take half a step back. "Do you want to save this theatre or not?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Ran a hand through his already dishevelled purple hair, making it even more chaotic. His eyes scanned the theatre's foyer, the marble columns, the faded gold details, the posters of old plays on the walls, and when they returned to me, they held a desperate determination.
"What do you need?"
"A quiet room. Tea. And paper." I held up my fingers, counting. "A lot of paper."
"Done." He was already turning, his feet stumbling in his haste. "I'll get everything, give me ten minutes, no, five, I—"
"Hannes."
He froze mid-stride, almost falling flat on his face.
"Breathe."
The man let out a shaky breath, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to compose himself. He nodded once, twice, three times, and then practically ran down the corridors.
I turned to the rest of the group.
Lucy was staring at me with her eyes still wide, her hands clasped in front of her chest. Gray had his arms crossed, an eyebrow arched so high it almost touched his hairline. Erza was studying me with that analytical gaze she used before battles. And Natsu…
"Oi." He nudged Gray with his elbow. "Can Azra'il write?"
"EVERYONE can write, you idiot."
"I know! I meant like… really write. Stories and stuff."
"Apparently so," Gray replied, still looking at me as if I'd just announced I was secretly a dragon.
(Technically, I HAVE been a dragon. In another life. But that's irrelevant.)
"You lot get some rest," I said, already walking in the direction Hannes had gone. "We'll have a lot of work to do tomorrow."
"Wait." Gray pushed himself off the wall, his arms still crossed. "Are you serious about us acting?"
"Deadly serious."
"But none of us are actors! Erza might be alright, she's dramatic by nature—"
"Thank you," Erza interrupted, her tone making it clear she wasn't sure if that was a compliment.
"—but Natsu?" Gray pointed at the Dragon Slayer, who was distracted trying to balance Happy (still asleep) on his head. "He can barely read!"
"OI! I can read!"
"Being able to spell your own name doesn't count!"
"I'll show you—"
"ENOUGH." My voice cut through the argument before it could escalate into property destruction. They both froze. "You will act. You will be GOOD. And if you're not…" I tilted my head, letting a smile that didn't reach my eyes appear on my face, "…I will MAKE you be."
Gray swallowed hard.
Natsu, for the first time since I'd known him, looked genuinely intimidated.
"That," he muttered to Gray out of the corner of his mouth, "was frightening."
"Very," Gray agreed.
Satisfied, I turned and went in search of my tea.
The room Hannes found for me was on the third floor of the theatre, a room that had probably been someone important's office decades ago.
A dark oak desk dominated the centre, its legs carved with masks of comedy and tragedy. The chair creaked every time I moved, protesting my weight like a grumbling old woman. The window looked out onto a cobbled street, empty at that time of night except for a ginger cat that stared at me for three seconds before deciding I wasn't interesting enough.
The tea was acceptable. Not my favourite, nothing beat the tea I kept in my inventory, but it would do. And the paper was stacked beside me, sheet after sheet of cream parchment waiting to be filled.
[So,] Eos began as I dipped the quill in the inkwell, [what are you going to write?]
(Something I never forgot.)
I closed my eyes for a moment.
Memories. So many memories. Thousands of years compressed into fragments that sometimes cut like glass, other times warmed like a winter sun. I had lived so much. Seen so much. Lost so much.
But there was one story that always came back. One that I carried like a scar on my chest, invisible to everyone, but always there when I took too deep a breath.
Two twins.
A curse.
A love that transcended everything, and that was not enough.
[You're going to tell their story?] Eos's voice was soft, almost gentle. [Are you sure?]
(A version of it. Adapted. No one here needs to know that I was once from there.)
[That memory still hurts.]
(I know.) I opened my eyes, my fingers closing around the quill tighter than necessary. (But some stories deserve to be told. Even if it hurts. ESPECIALLY if it hurts.)
The quill touched the paper and I began to write.
-------(*)--------
It was already morning and I hadn't slept at all.
I didn't need to, not really, my body was more a suggestion than a necessity at this point, but even if I had needed to, I wouldn't have been able to. The words flowed all night like blood from a reopened wound, sometimes fast and desperate, other times slow and painful, each letter torn from somewhere too deep.
Each scene was a memory. Each line of dialogue, an echo of voices I still heard when I closed my eyes. The way Miquella tilted his head when he was thinking. The way Malenia held her sword, not as a weapon, but as an extension of herself. The sound of their footsteps in the Haligtree's corridors, always in sync, even when they were on opposite sides of the sanctuary.
When the morning light came through the window, golden and gentle, the script was complete. Fifty-three pages. Four acts. A tragedy.
I dropped the quill and flexed my fingers, feeling the stiffness in the joints after hours of holding it in the same position. Ink stains decorated my fingers like temporary tattoos.
[How are you?] Eos asked.
(Tired.) I massaged the bridge of my nose. (In a way that has nothing to do with sleep.)
[You didn't have to do this.]
(No. But I wanted to.)
Three hesitant knocks on the door, as if the person on the other side wasn't sure if they should be there.
"Azra'il?" Lucy's voice, muffled by the wood. "Are… are you still alive in there?"
"Unfortunately."
I pushed the chair back and crossed the room, opening the door in one swift movement.
Lucy was standing in the corridor with her blonde hair forming a bird's nest around her face, her eyes still half-closed with sleep, and her pyjamas, pink with golden key patterns, of course, all crumpled. Behind her, Erza was already fully dressed and neat, every strand of scarlet hair in place, her posture perfect. The difference between the two was almost comical.
Further back still, Natsu and Gray were leaning on each other like two drunks after a long night, their faces creased and their eyes glazed. Happy was asleep in Natsu's arms, a bubble of a snore inflating and deflating at his nose.
"You all look terrible," I observed.
"Good morning to you too," Gray grumbled.
Lucy peeked over my shoulder, her eyes suddenly more alert when she saw the stacks of paper on the desk. "You really stayed up all night?"
"I said it would be ready."
"Yes, but…" she shook her head, a lock of hair falling in front of her eyes, "…one night. A WHOLE script. Is that humanly possible?"
[Technically, you are not human,] Eos observed.
(Details.)
"Do you want to read it," I asked, picking up the manuscript from the desk and holding it up between us, "or do you want to keep doubting me?"
Lucy just sighed.
---------(*)---------
We gathered on the main stage of the theatre. The morning light streamed in through the high windows, creating golden pillars of floating dust that cut through the air. The stage itself was larger than it looked from the outside, dark, polished wood, crimson velvet curtains pulled to the sides, and acoustics so good that I could hear Natsu's stomach rumble from the other side.
Hannes had provided chairs, and everyone was sitting in a semicircle while I stood in the centre, the manuscript back in my hands.
"The play is called 'The Twins of the Twilight'." I let the title hang in the air for a moment. "It's a tragedy."
"A tragedy?" Natsu wrinkled his nose, crossing his arms behind his head. "Like, with people dying and stuff?"
"Yes, Natsu. With people dying and 'stuff'."
"Oh…" He slumped in his chair, clearly disappointed. "Why can't it be a comedy? Comedies are cooler. They have jokes and stuff."
"Because comedies don't make people truly FEEL something." I opened the manuscript to the first page, the paper crackling softly. "They laugh, they forget, and they leave. But a tragedy?" I lifted my eyes, scanning each face in the semicircle. "A tragedy sticks. It gets under your skin. It makes the audience cry, it makes them remember this story long after the curtains close."
Lucy was already leaning forward, her elbows on her knees, her eyes shining with curiosity. Erza had her arms crossed over her armour, but her attention was absolute; I could practically SEE her analysing every word. Gray was leaning back in his chair with an expression of studied scepticism, but he hadn't looked away once. And Happy had finally woken up, his ears pricked.
"The story," I continued, beginning to walk slowly across the stage, my boots echoing on the wood, "is about two twins. Born of the same mother, at the same moment, under the same star… but cursed in completely different ways."
I paused near the edge of the stage, looking out at the empty seats of the auditorium as if I could already see the audience that would be there in a few days.
"The brother was cursed to never grow up. Trapped forever in a child's body, no matter how many years, decades, CENTURIES passed. His mind matured. His heart matured. He accumulated enough knowledge to make the greatest sages look like fools." I turned back to the group. "But his form remained that of a fragile child. Small. Vulnerable."
I saw Lucy swallow hard, her fingers intertwining in her lap.
"The sister," my voice dropped a tone, gaining weight, "was cursed with something worse. A rot. Scarlet like dried blood, like rust, like the sunset before a storm. It consumed her body from the inside out. Slowly. Painfully. With every battle she fought, the rot spread further."
I raised my right hand.
"First, the arm. It rotted to the bone and had to be replaced with a prosthesis."
I touched my thigh.
"Then, the legs. One, then the other."
I covered my left eye with my palm.
"Then, her sight. One eye, lost forever."
I lowered my hand, letting the weight of the words settle.
"But she kept fighting. Do you know why?"
Erza shifted in her chair, uncrossing and re-crossing her arms as if she couldn't find a comfortable position.
"Because fighting was the only thing she could do for her brother. As long as she was strong enough, as long as she was his blade, as long as no enemy could get past her… he would be safe." I walked back to the centre of the stage. "She became the most feared warrior in the entire world. Unvanquished. Unbeatable. Entire armies fled at the mere sound of her name. Generals surrendered before facing her. She never lost a single battle. Never. In her entire existence."
I met Erza's eyes.
"Everything. For him."
She held my gaze, something moving in the depths of those brown eyes. Recognition, perhaps. Or understanding.
"And the brother?" Lucy asked, her voice small. "What did he do?"
"He dedicated every second of his existence to finding a cure. Not for himself; he didn't care about his own curse. He had made peace with his child's body long ago." I started walking again, unable to stand still while telling this story. "But for her. To save his sister from the rot that was consuming her. He studied. Researched. Experimented. He created an entire sanctuary dedicated to finding the answer. A golden tree that touched the heavens, fed by his own essence."
I stopped in the centre of the stage again.
"He loved her more than anything in the world. More than his own life. More than the eternity his curse guaranteed him. And she…" I closed my eyes briefly, the memories burning behind my eyelids, "…she loved him in exactly the same way. This love… is the heart of the play."
When I opened my eyes, Lucy had tears streaming down her cheeks, her hands pressed against her mouth. She didn't even seem to have noticed she was crying.
"A-and how does it end?" she managed to ask, her voice muffled by her fingers.
I looked at her for a long moment. This girl, too kind for her own good, who cried for characters from a story she didn't even know was real.
"The brother was stolen."
The words came out harsher than I intended.
"Taken while he slept, by someone obsessed with him. A lord of blood who saw him, desired him, and decided he would have what he desired. He invaded the sanctuary. He tore the brother from the cocoon where he slept, seeking ascension. And he vanished into the night."
Gray sat up straighter in his chair, his arms uncrossing.
"The sister woke the next morning… and he was no longer there."
Lucy sobbed.
"She searched. Everywhere. Every room of the sanctuary, every corridor, every hiding place. She called his name until her voice failed. But he was gone. Without a trace. No clue. Simply… gone."
I turned, giving my back to the group for a moment, staring at the crimson curtains.
"She waited. For years. Decades. Perhaps centuries; time loses its meaning when you have nothing left to count the days by. The rot continued to spread. Her body continued to rot. But she refused to die." My voice was carefully controlled, each word measured. "Because he had promised to return. Because she had promised to wait. And she had NEVER broken a promise to her brother."
"And did he come back?" Natsu asked, his voice strangely serious. He had leaned forward without realising, all his previous laziness evaporated.
I turned back to them.
"No."
The word fell like a stone in a still lake.
"In the end, a traveller arrives at the sanctuary where she waits. A nameless stranger, without a past, with no connection to either of them. And she, after centuries of waiting, after seeing her body rot piece by piece, after losing everything except the hope that he would return…" I swallowed, forcing the next part out, "…she thinks the traveller has come to threaten her brother. That he is just another invader, another thief trying to take from her the only thing she has left."
"So she fights," Erza said quietly. It wasn't a question.
"She fights. With everything she has. With everything that is left of her broken body. Every drop of strength, every technique she has learned in centuries of war, every memory of the brother she is trying to protect." I met Erza's eyes again.
"And does she win?"
Erza looked back at me, waiting.
"She had never lost before. Never. In her entire existence, in hundreds of battles, no enemy had ever managed to defeat her. Armies had fallen. Generals had died. Even a demigod had fallen to her blade."
I let the next word weigh in the air before releasing it.
"Until that day."
Lucy hid her face in her hands.
"Her last words were…" my voice failed for a second, and I had to swallow before continuing, "'Miquella… forgive me. I could not… wait for you any longer.'"
The theatre grew quiet.
Hannes was in a corner, his hands covering his mouth, tears streaming freely through his fingers. Gray's jaw was so tight I could see the muscles pulsing, his eyes fixed on the floor as if looking at anyone would reveal something he didn't want to show. Natsu didn't move, his fists clenched on his knees, an expression on his face I had never seen on him before, something between anger and sadness and a frustrated incomprehension of someone who didn't know how to deal with what he was feeling.
Happy was hugging Lucy's head, his two little blue paws patting her hair awkwardly.
And Erza…
Erza was looking at me with her eyes shining with unshed tears, her chin held high, her posture as rigid as if relaxing would make her crumble.
"Th-that is…" Lucy lifted her tear-streaked face, "…that is a very sad story."
"I told you it was a tragedy."
"Where did you get that story?" Erza asked, her voice carefully level.
I shrugged, forcing a casualness into every muscle of my body.
"I read a few books of classical tragedy yesterday afternoon before you all arrived. I had some tea. The story just… came to me."
[Liar,] Eos whispered.
(They don't need to know. They don't need to carry that weight.)
"It just CAME to you?" Lucy sniffed, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her pyjamas in a not-at-all elegant way. "A story like that just COMES to you?"
"Inspiration is a funny thing." I slapped the manuscript against my palm, changing the subject before anyone could question me further. "Now. The roles."
"Erza."
She straightened her posture immediately, her shoulders squared, her chin held high. Years of instinct responding to authority.
"You are Malenia. The Blade of Miquella."
I saw something pass through her eyes. A spark of understanding, of connection to the character I had just described.
"The cursed warrior," she said quietly, testing the words.
"The one who never lost. The one who sacrificed everything for her brother. The one who waited until the end, even when there was nothing left of her to wait." I walked until I stood in front of her, looking down at her. "Can you do that?"
Erza held my gaze for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"I can."
"Lucy."
The blonde jumped in her seat, nearly knocking Happy off her lap. "Y-yes?!"
"You are Miquella."
"M-me?" She blinked, looking around as if she expected me to be talking to another Lucy. "But isn't Miquella… like… male?"
"In the theatre, gender is a suggestion, not a rule. And you have the right softness, the gentleness." I tilted my head, studying her. "Miquella was delicate. Kind. The kind of person who made others want to protect him, not out of weakness, but because of something that radiated from him. A light." I gave a half-smile. "You have that."
Lucy blushed to the roots of her hair. "I-I… I'll try."
"You'll succeed."
"Natsu."
"YO!" He shot up from his chair as if he'd been electrocuted, his eyes suddenly shining. "Who am I? The traveller who wins in the end? The hero?"
"You are Radahn. The Starscourge General."
His excitement visibly deflated. "Oh… the general. Cool, I guess…"
"The most powerful warrior in the world," I continued, watching the confusion on his face, "besides Malenia. They said he had the strength of a god and the fury of a hurricane. He conquered entire kingdoms on his own. He mastered the very stars, stopping them from falling and destroying the world." I made a calculated pause. "He and Malenia faced each other once. Just once."
Natsu swallowed hard. "And who won?"
"No one. They drew. Their battle was so violent, so destructive, so absolutely APOCALYPTIC that…" I leaned forward, "…it destroyed an ENTIRE region. It turned a fertile continent into a desert of rot and ruin."
Natsu's eyes SHONE like two stars. The smile that appeared on his face was almost manic.
"THAT IS THE COOLEST THING I'VE EVER HEARD IN MY LIFE!"
"I knew you'd like it."
"Gray."
"Hm." Gray didn't move from his relaxed position, his arms crossed, an eyebrow raised.
"You are Mohg. The Lord of Blood."
The eyebrow went higher. "Lord of… Blood?"
"The villain." I saw his expression close off, his eyes narrowing. "The one who steals Miquella. The one who destroys everything."
"Why do I have to be the villain?"
"Because you have the right energy for it. Controlled. Cold. Calculating." I tilted my head. "Mohg wasn't a monster who roared and destroyed things. He was obsessed. Possessive. He genuinely believed he loved Miquella… even while he was destroying him. It's a much more disturbing kind of evil."
Gray stared at me for a long moment, clearly not happy with the description.
"…Was that an insult?"
"It was an observation."
"And you?" Erza interrupted before Gray could retort. "What is your role?"
I smiled slightly.
"I am the narrator. The voice that guides the audience through the story, that tells what the characters cannot." My smile gained a sharp edge. "And in the final act… I am the Nameless Traveller. The one who faces Malenia in the sanctuary."
Erza studied me, her eyes scanning my face as if looking for something hidden.
"So we will fight."
"We will."
Something passed between us. An understanding that needed no words. Two warriors acknowledging each other.
"I can't wait," Erza said, and there was a glint in her eye that hadn't been there before.
"Neither can I."
I let the moment settle for a few seconds before clapping my hands once, the sound echoing through the theatre and breaking the tension that had built up.
"Good. Now that everyone knows who they'll be playing, let's move on to the next equally important topic." I walked over to the table Hannes had dragged onto the stage earlier. "You could be the best actors in the world, but if you go on stage dressed like this…" I gestured vaguely at the group, Natsu with his tattered waistcoat, Gray shirtless as always, Lucy still in her pyjamas, "…no one will believe the story."
"Oi, what's wrong with my clothes?" Natsu looked down, offended.
"Everything. But that's a discussion for another day." I took the folded papers from the inner pocket of my jacket, which I had drawn at some point between paragraphs and when the words needed a break to breathe, and spread them on the table. "Costumes. I've made some sketches."
Everyone immediately gathered around, heads leaning over the drawings.
The first was Malenia.
It wasn't a full suit of armour; it was something more elegant. A long bronze-toned dress that flowed in layers like withered petals, with a dark red cape over the shoulders. The left arm was a golden prosthesis that went up to the shoulder, and the legs had partially visible golden greaves between the slits of the fabric. A pinkish, almost red scarf was wrapped around her neck; I had noted "gift from her brother?" beside it.
The helm was the centrepiece: golden, with two wings that rose to the sides, covering the eyes but leaving the rest of the face exposed.
And the hair…
"Blood red," Erza read the note beside it, her voice taking on a strange tone. "Vivid. Long, flowing from under the helm to her waist. Like liquid flames that refuse to be extinguished."
She stopped reading.
Slowly, almost unconsciously, her hand rose and touched her own scarlet hair. Red. Long. Loose over her shoulders like flames.
Her face began to turn the same colour.
I noticed the gesture. I noticed the way her eyes widened, how her cheeks flushed, how she swallowed hard.
(She thinks I was inspired by her.)
The thought hit me like a punch to the gut, and I felt my own face heat up treacherously as I understood how that description must have sounded to the others.
[This is hilarious,] Eos commented, clearly enjoying my suffering.
(SHUT. UP.)
"…Azra'il?" Lucy was looking from me to Erza with a frown, her eyes still red from crying but now shining with curiosity. "Why are you two suddenly red?"
"NO ONE IS RED."
"I completely agree, no one is red," Erza said at the exact same moment, her voice an octave higher than normal.
Gray raised an eyebrow so high it almost disappeared into his hairline. A smug smile began to form at the corner of his mouth.
Natsu, predictably, had noticed absolutely nothing, too busy drooling over the drawing of Radahn.
"THIS IS SO COOL! Look at the size of this sword! It's TWO swords! And this helm with the horse's mane! Why don't I have a helm with a mane?!"
"ANYWAY." I cleared my throat loudly, seizing the distraction Natsu had provided. "Next topic. Natsu's and Gray's costumes."
I pushed the drawing of Malenia aside, completely ignoring the smile that had blossomed on Lucy's face, the wretch, and pulled out the others.
Radahn was imposing. A massive suit of iron and bronze armour, shoulders wide enough to look like mountains, a helm with a flaming mane that cascaded down his back. The two swords were the size of people, curved and brutal.
Natsu was practically vibrating with excitement.
Mohg was the opposite, sinister where Radahn was grand. Dark red and black robes that looked soaked in blood, curved horns emerging from his forehead, a sceptre that ended in a three-pronged blade. The face in the drawing was half-obscured by shadows, but the eyes shone with a sickly light.
"…Why do I have to be the bloke with horns?" Gray picked up the drawing, studying it with a grimace.
"Because it suits you."
"That was DEFINITELY an insult."
"It was a compliment to your ability to look threatening."
"That's not what you said!"
"These designs are incredible," Erza murmured, apparently having recovered from the… previous incident. She had pulled the drawing of Malenia back and was studying every detail with an expert's eye, her fingers tracing the lines of the armour. "The prosthesis-sword… the winged helm… the way the armour looks organic instead of mechanical…" She lifted her eyes to me. "Where did you get these ideas?"
"Imagination," I replied too quickly.
Erza studied me for a long moment, that analytical gaze that seemed to see through excuses. But eventually she nodded, turning her attention back to the drawing.
(She didn't believe it.)
[No,] Eos agreed. [But she chose not to press.]
(For now.)
"I know an excellent seamstress," Lucy offered, reaching out to take the drawing of Miquella's costume, simple but elegant white and gold robes, with a cape that looked made of sunlight. "She lives in Magnolia, but she works fast. She can make the robes, the capes, all the fabric details."
"And I have a trusted blacksmith," Erza added. She was still holding the drawing of Malenia, her fingers gripping the paper with an almost reverent care. "He works here in Onibus, specialises in custom armour. It'll be a challenge to make everything in less than a week, but…" a smile appeared on her face, genuine and excited, "…he loves a challenge."
"Perfect. Contact them today. We need the costumes ready in five days at the most to have time for fittings."
"And you?" Lucy asked, turning to me with curiosity. "What will your costume be? For the Nameless Traveller?"
"I'll sort myself out."
"What do you mean 'sort yourself out'?" She frowned. "We can ask the seamstress to make—"
"No need."
"But—"
"Lucy." I raised a hand. "I already have something in mind. Trust me."
She opened her mouth to argue, but Erza placed a hand on her shoulder, interrupting her.
"If she says she has something, she has something." Erza gave me a look that clearly said 'I will find out your secrets eventually'. "I've learned not to question Azra'il when she's like this."
"Like what?"
"Like… decided."
[You're going to wear the armour from that era, aren't you?] Eos asked as the two of them moved away, Lucy still muttering quietly. [From when you were the Tarnished.]
(Exactly. I still have it in my inventory. It will be… nostalgic.)
[Won't that raise questions?]
(Probably. But I'll deal with that when it happens.)
[Your plan is to have no plan.]
(My plan is to improvise with style. It's worked so far.)
[…I strongly disagree with your definition of 'worked'.]
--------(*)--------
The rest of the day was spent organising logistics.
Lucy wrote a detailed letter to her seamstress, including copies of my sketches and approximate measurements for everyone. Erza practically dragged the local blacksmith, a huge man named Tormund with arms the size of my legs, to the theatre to discuss the details of Malenia's armour.
"This," Tormund said, holding my drawing with hands the size of frying pans, "is the most beautiful and most complicated thing I've ever been asked to make."
"Can you do it?" Erza asked, anxiously.
"In five days?" He let out a laugh that made the floor tremble. "Lass, I'll have to be forging this armour in my dreams. But yes." A smile appeared between his thick beard. "I can."
Meanwhile, I stayed at the theatre with Hannes, discussing lighting, set design, and the illusion effects I would create.
"So you're going to use magic to create the sets?" Hannes asked, his eyes shining so brightly they looked like they were about to pop out of his head. "Like… complete illusions?"
"Entire environments." I held out my hand, and a small tree materialised in my palm, a miniature of the Haligtree, shining with a pale light. "The sanctuary. The tree. The battlefield where Malenia and Radahn fought. The audience won't just WATCH the story." I closed my hand, and the illusion dissipated into particles of light. "They will BE in it."
Hannes made a sound that was half a sob, half a hysterical laugh.
"This is… this is revolutionary! No theatre in Fiore does this!"
"Now they do."
He grabbed me in a hug before I could dodge, sobbing something about salvation and miracles and misunderstood geniuses.
[You're enjoying yourself,] Eos observed as I patted Hannes's back awkwardly, trying to get him to let go.
(Maybe a little.)
[Admit it. You like this. Creating. Bringing stories to life.]
(…)
[Azra'il.]
(…Fine. I like it. Satisfied?)
[Very.]
At night, when everyone had gone to rest and the theatre had sunk into a thick silence, I was left alone on the stage.
The acoustics were perfect. Every step I took echoed, resonated, filled the empty space like water filling a goblet. The crimson curtains looked black in the darkness, and the only light came from the stars through the high windows.
I walked to the centre of the stage. The same spot where Erza would be in a few days, wearing Malenia's armour, speaking the words I had written.
I closed my eyes.
The memories came unbidden. They always did.
I wasn't there when this conversation happened. But I had seen it fragments, echoes, memories trapped in artefacts they left behind. The Erdtree held secrets for those who knew where to look, and I had looked. After defeating Malenia, after seeing that unvanquished warrior finally fall… I needed to understand. I needed to know why.
And the artefacts showed me.
"Sister… does it hurt?"
Miquella's voice was soft, worried, his small hands holding wet cloths as he cleaned the rot that was spreading across Malenia's arm.
"No." Her voice was firm, unshakeable, even with the pain evident in every line of her face. "Not when you are here."
"I will find a cure. I promise."
"I know you will, Miquella." A smile, fragile but genuine. "I believe in you."
"And if I cannot?"
The question hung in the sanctuary's air, too heavy for such a small body to bear.
"Then I will die happy." Malenia extended her good hand, the only good part that was left, and touched her brother's face with a gentleness that contrasted with everything she was. "Because I have spent every moment by your side."
I opened my eyes.
The theatre was still empty. The stars were still shining through the windows. And the memories were still there, memories that were not mine, but that I carried nonetheless. The story of two people I had met too late to save, but not too late to remember.
Malenia. Miquella.
I had defeated her. The Blade of Miquella, the unvanquished warrior, had fallen to my blade in that rotted sanctuary. And then, I had gone after him, the brother she had waited for for so long.
Two twins who loved each other more than anything in the world. Who fought against gods and fate and nature itself to protect one another.
And who still lost.
"I will tell your story," I whispered to the emptiness, my voice echoing softly through the theatre. "The best way I can. The way you deserve."
No one answered.
But somehow, as the starlight painted patterns on the empty stage, I felt that it was enough.
-----------
✦ Author's Note ✦
-----------
This chapter deserves a proper author's note, so here we go.
If you've watched the anime, you know there is a theater episode in Fairy Tail. But from the very beginning, I knew I didn't want to simply recreate the same play that appears in canon. I wanted something different. Something mine. Something that actually made sense for Azra'il and everything she carries within her.
The core idea was simple:
👉 what if the play was about one of the many worlds where Azra'il has reincarnated?
At first, I was honestly very unsure about which universe to choose. I'll confess that my first choice was Lord of the Mysteries. I actually wrote several chapters of that version of the play, and yes, it was turning into a really good story. However, my translator friend (the voice of reason 😅) pointed out something important: as great as it is, Lord of the Mysteries is still very niche. Not many people know the anime, and even fewer have read the novel.
She suggested I pick something more well-known, a universe with a strong, emotional story, but one that could still be adapted freely.
That's when I found myself torn between two games I deeply love:
🎮 Expedition 33
🎮 Elden Ring
In the end, Elden Ring won. And the main reason was very specific: the story of Malenia and Miquella.
Their bond, their sacrifice, their devotion, the tragedy surrounding them, all of it resonates deeply with the themes I already explore through Azra'il. So I decided to write the play as an adapted version of their story.
And yes, one important clarification:
anyone who has played Elden Ring knows that its narrative is not linear. You explore the world, gather fragments, fight bosses in different orders, and slowly piece the story together. Because of that, I had to adapt and reorganize events, shaping the lore into something that would work as a theatrical narrative, while still preserving its essence.
Everything was written based on:
my knowledge of the game
my own playthrough experience
and, most importantly, what this story made me feel
For those of you who have never played Elden Ring, I genuinely recommend it, or at least watching lore videos about it. It's a rich, tragic, and beautiful universe, and it's absolutely worth experiencing.
I hope you enjoy this version of the theater arc as much as I enjoyed writing it.
And I promise: this stage made of memories still has many stories left to tell ✨