An eight-year-old girl with black hair and onyx eyes darted down the long, gleaming corridor of the royal castle, chasing after a boy of the same age. Their footsteps echoed through the marble hallways, mixing with bursts of laughter and shouting.
"Sylv! Slow down, you big dummy!" the girl shouted, huffing as she tried to keep pace.
But the green-haired boy only glanced back with a grin that could light up the entire hall.
"No way! You're just too slow, Lisa!"
"Idiot!" she yelled again, her voice bouncing off the high walls.
Then, in her rush to catch him, Lisa tripped and fell, her knees scraping harshly against the cold marble floor. The sound of her stumble replaced laughter with a sharp silence.
Sylvain's grin vanished instantly. He turned around and sprinted back toward her, his emerald hair fluttering behind him.
"Lisa! Are you okay?" he asked, panic clear in his voice.
Tears welled up in Lisa's eyes as she looked at her bloodied knees. "You idiot, Sylv! I told you to stop!"
"Wait—don't cry!" Sylvain said quickly, kneeling down beside her. "Look, I can fix it, okay?"
He placed his small hand just above her knee, closing his eyes in focus. A soft green glow began to bloom from his palm, spreading over the wounds like a breath of spring wind. The air itself seemed to shimmer, and within minutes, the scrapes sealed up completely—smooth skin left behind as if nothing had happened.
Lisa blinked, her tears forgotten. "What? How did you do that? My father said you use wind magic!"
Sylvain scratched the back of his head, a proud little smirk tugging at his lips. "You could say that it's kind of a royal secret. Everyone in my family can cast wind magic… but sometimes—at least once in a generation—someone's born with Aether Magic. It's like wind magic, but much stronger, and can be used not only for attacking but also for healing. It is said that as long as you can cast Aether magic, you will be able to wield Aetherkrone, the stuff of kings in our kingdom."
Lisa tilted her head, curiosity replacing pain. "So… that means you'll be king someday?"
Sylvain went quiet. The proud grin faded into something softer, almost uncertain. After a moment, he asked quietly, "Do you think I'd make a good king for this kingdom?"
Lisa thought about it, looking down at her now-healed knees. The pain was finally gone, replaced by a warmth that came not from the magic—but from him. A smile slowly spread across her face, bright and pure.
"I don't know if you'll be king of Joya," she said, "but I do know you'd be the kindest one if you ever were."
Sylvain's face flushed red. To hide his embarrassment, he quickly reached out and pinched her cheeks. "You sure have a sweet mouth, Lisa."
"Ow—hey!" she yelped, puffing her cheeks and glaring at him through glassy eyes. "I take it back! You'd be the most ruthless king ever!"
Sylvain laughed, pulling both cheeks this time. "What? You're taking it back already?"
Their laughter rang through the grand corridor again, echoing off the stone walls like a melody of youth. For a few fleeting moments, the world felt simple to Sylvain—no duties, no crowns, no burdens—just two children lost in mischief and light.
For that brief time, Sylvain forgot his father's decisions: that his elder brother, Leonardo, would be the next king… and that the Aetherkrone, the legendary weapon said to command the winds themselves, would be sealed away forever.
He had always dreamed of following in his father's footsteps—of ruling a kingdom that would remember his name for centuries. But as he watched Lisa giggle through her tears, that dream didn't feel as heavy anymore.
'It doesn't matter if I become king or not. ' He thought.' I was born as this kingdom's prince. And I'll protect it to the very end.'
Sylvain smiled faintly as Lisa grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the dining hall. He wondered if she'd still be there when that day came—if she'd still smile at him the same way.
Somehow, he hoped she would because everything felt easier when she smiled like that.
Few Years Later
The night was unnaturally still—too quiet for the capital of Joya. The streets slept beneath a silver moon, veiled in fog. Only two sets of footsteps disturbed the silence, echoing like whispers through the stone path..
An eleven-year-old Lisa followed her father through the cold air, clutching her cloak tighter. Her black hair was hidden beneath the hood he'd ordered her to wear.
"Where are we going, Dad?" she asked softly.
Riser didn't turn. His tall frame cut through the darkness like a shadow given shape.
"How is your magic training going?" he asked instead, voice calm and low.
Lisa blinked, confused at the change of subject, but she puffed her chest proudly.
"I've already learned every magic from Mom's notes! I can even use my magic effectively in battle now."
Her tone carried both pride and yearning—the fragile pride of a child craving recognition. Everyone in the capital said her father was the most loyal servant of the royal family. Lisa wanted to be like him, to stand beside Prince Sylvain one day as his most trusted ally.
Riser gave a single nod, his face unreadable.
"Good. Then tonight, you'll put it to the test. When I give the signal, use your magic."
His words were sharp as iron. Not a request—an order. Lisa tilted her head confusedly but nodded at the end..
They stopped before an old manor at the city's edge. The air felt heavier here. Faint candlelight flickered behind dusty windows, bending under the pressure of Riser's aura. When he knocked, the door opened just enough for a woman with long, flowing blue hair to appear.
"Riser," she said coldly, narrowing her eyes. "What are you doing here at this hour?"
"I'm here to see the girls, of course," he said smoothly, smiling in that way that never reached his eyes. "How are they, Vermica?"
"That is none of your business." Her tone cut like glass. "I gave up my noble title, my mansion—everything—to you in secret. Our deal was clear: you would leave me with custody of my daughters."
Vermica Von Hohenlicht stood tall despite the exhaustion in her eyes. Once a noblewoman of grace and rank, she now held herself with the quiet dignity of a mother defending what little she had left. Once, she had loved this man—blindly, foolishly—but after watching him trying to twist their children in the name of power, that love had died long ago.
Riser's grin widened. "You did, indeed. But you see… I happen to need them again. So, would you please tell me where they are? Darling?"
He stepped closer, his presence filling the narrow hall like creeping smoke. His eyes gleamed with greed. He had reached the limits of his strength, but he refused to stop there. And he finally found a way to get even stronger.
Through a forbidden technique, if he exchanged a fragment of his Decay Magic with someone who possessed Aether Magic, he could claim a piece of their gift for himself. They would inherit his magic to fill the void as well as compensation..
Vermica's bloodline—distantly tied to the royal family—had given him exactly what he needed. He knew that one of their daughters carried that rare, luminous power.
Vermica didn't know about what he was scheming, but she saw the madness in his eyes.
"You're wasting your time," she said firmly. "I already sent them away—far beyond your reach. I knew your ambition would consume you completely someday, so I didn't wait a single day after getting their custody."
Her voice trembled only for an instant. Her tears shimmered in the moonlight, but she didn't wipe them away. Memories appeared in her mind— of her daughters' laughter, their soft hands, their sleepy smiles under warm blankets as she read fairy tales. She never ended up seeing them again after sending them away. But they would live. That was enough.
Riser's expression darkened. "How dare you, Vermica?"
He reached out, fingers brushing her chin, but she slapped his hand aside.
"You always had your foolish dreams," she hissed. "Becoming king, becoming the strongest… Someday you'll realize those dreams mean nothing when there's no one left to share them with. You'll look around and find yourself alone—and empty.
Her voice was getting weaker and weaker as she talked, as if she herself had experienced this kind of pain too, and now she could only suffer in silence because of her previous mistakes.
For a fleeting second, her words seemed to echo in the silence. Then Riser smiled—a small, almost tender smile. The kind that came before cruelty.
"Enough."
He turned abruptly to the small figure behind him and yanked the necklace from her neck. Lisa gasped as her hood fell, revealing her maroon hair and bright green eyes under the dim street light.
"Lisa," Riser commanded, his voice now cold as stone. "Hypnotize her. Find out where she sent her daughters."
Vermica froze. Her eyes widened as she looked properly at the girl for the first time. That face. That hair. Those eyes.
"You—" she choked. "You're… her…"
Lisa didn't understand. She only knew that her father's grip on her shoulder was unyielding. And defying him meant even pain and torture.
"Do it," Riser shouted again.
Lisa hesitated. Her lips trembled. "I… I don't want to."
Riser's eyes darkened. "Did I not teach you what happens when you disobey me?"
Before she could move, his Decay Magic ignited. The air itself corroded as his power crawled up her shoulder like black fire, eating through cloth and skin.
Lisa screamed—a raw, broken sound that ripped through the night. The manor itself seemed to shudder; dust fell from the beams, even the street lights flickering wildly as the air filled with the scent of rot and burning flesh.
"Stop it, Riser!" Vermica cried, voice shaking with rage and terror.
He ignored her. He said quietly. "Pathetic."
When he finally withdrew his hand, Lisa crumpled to the floor, gasping for air. Her skin smoked where his magic had touched. Tears streaked her face as she looked up at Vermica, who was trembling but still met her eyes with something gentle—maternal emotions..
"Please," Vermica whispered. "Don't make her do this."
Riser tilted his head slightly, a cruel smile returning. "She reminds you of someone, doesn't she? Sahira. You two were such good friends. It was almost fun… fooling you both."
From his outstretched palm, black and blue energy coalesced. "Black Rotten Spikes."
The spikes shot forward, impaling Vermica through her arms and legs. She screamed as the wounds sizzled—the flesh rotting where the magic touched. The stench of decay filled the room.
Riser leaned close, voice soft and amused. "Now, Lisa. Search her mind. This is your last chance."
Lisa's hands shook violently as she crawled closer. Her magic stirred, green light flickering like fireflies through tears. But when her eyes met Vermica's fading ones, her power faltered—and instead of reading her thoughts, it connected them.
A whisper filled her mind.
"Sahira loved children. She must have been so happy to have you."
Lisa's breath caught. "You… you knew my mother?"
Vermica smiled faintly. She spoke in her mind. "It's been years since someone read my mind… Sahira and I were best friends once, but I did something foolish that cost me her trust. Listen, child—You must have heard of the Country of Sin, near Inca. That's where Sahira was born. If you ever need safety, go to the royal family of that country.. They're not kindest… but they're better than your father."
The words echoed like bells in Lisa's head.
"And if you're actually Riser's daughter… that means Velmora and Margrada are your half-sisters."
Lisa froze.
"I don't care what they do, or what they become. Promise me something."
Tears blurred Lisa's sight as she answered weakly in her mind. "What… what promise?"
"You don't need to sacrifice your life for them. But if it doesn't hurt you… please make sure they're happy and safe at least.. Tell them… their mother loved them until her last breath."
Lisa's heart trembled. She wanted to scream, to break the link, but Riser's calm voice shattered the silence.
"Well? Did you find it?"
Lisa shook her head, trembling—but before she could lie, Vermica whispered aloud, voice shaking.
"They're… in Doel City. Bosco."
Riser's grin widened. He didn't care that her voice cracked or that her blood painted the floor.
Vermica closed her eyes. Her lips moved in one final prayer.
"I'm sorry, my angels. If you hadn't been born to me, maybe your lives would've been kinder. But I believe… you'll find happiness, even if it's far from me."
She knew she could have stayed quiet but Riser with the help of Mind magic of Lisa, would have found the location later anyway. And delaying it would only cause more trouble and pain to Sahira's daughter.
Light flickered faintly from her wounds before fading entirely. The smell of decay lingered, but her face was strangely peaceful.
When the glow left Vermica Von Hohenlicht's eyes, Lisa felt it too—her memories of Sahira, her love for her daughters, her regret of making so many mistakes flowing through the psychic link.
Tears dripped silently onto the cold stone.
Riser did not look away; instead, he started laughing like a mad person.. "When I exchange Margrada's power for my own, I'll finally wield the Aetherkrone myself.
Lisa didn't move. She stared at the still form before her — thinking about everything the woman thought in her last moment. She did not understand all the complex feelings, but she also knew that after today, she would probably not be the same innocent girl who chased after Sylvain. And she did not deserve to either.
Present Day
The air in the royal hall trembled.
Lisa stood still, her breath shallow, eyes fixed on the man she had deceived for years. The man who had trusted her with his heart, his plans, and his dream.
Sylvain Von Rosenwacht—the last prince of Joya—stood before her, holding a gleaming spear that pulsed with emerald light.
"This is the Aetherkrone," Sylvain said, a faint smile curving his lips as the weapon's glow intensified. "I don't know why Father hid this weapon… but with it, we can finally defeat Margrada. Her Decay Magic is useless against a relic like this. No one can destroy what Zeref himself forged. And when she falls—" he looked up, eyes blazing—"no one will deny me the throne that I deserve."
Lisa said nothing. Her hands trembled beneath her cloak.
The spear drank from Sylvain's magic greedily, its glow growing brighter, hungrier, until even the air around him started rippling with its power. Sylvain didn't care. His heart was pounding with triumph—his dream, so close he could almost touch it.
Then a voice drifted through the chamber, low and calm.
"So this weapon… was hidden beneath the throne itself."
Sylvain froze. That voice—icy, familiar.
"Velmora," he spat, turning toward the tall woman standing in the doorway. Her violet eyes caught the green light as she stepped forward, her expression eerily composed.
Velmora. His late brother's wife, and the woman who had murdered him.
"Velmora!" Sylvain's grip tightened on the spear, fury surging through him. "You have some nerve showing your face here without guards or Margrada's protection."
Velmora didn't flinch. She walked toward him in a daze, her gaze fixed on the Aetherkrone.
"That weapon… the reason for all of this," she murmured.
"Stay back," Sylvain warned, leveling the spear at her. The weapon pulsed in his hand, craving release. "You killed my brother for your ambition. Now you will pay the price for it."
Velmora stopped only a few steps away, her voice faint, stripped of emotion.
"It wasn't me who killed him." She looked past Sylvain, to the quiet figure behind him. "It was her."
Sylvain's breath caught.
"What?"
Before he could turn, cold metal slid through his back.
The world slowed.
He looked down to see the blade emerge from his chest, stained with his own blood. The spear trembled in his weakening grasp.
Slowly, painfully, he turned his head.
Lisa stood behind him—but with maroon hair, green emerald eyes glistening with tears. She might have different hair and eye color, but Sylvain had no doubt that it was still Lisa..
"...Why?" he whispered, his voice breaking.
Lisa's lips quivered. Tears streamed freely now. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Sylv… I'm sorry…But there is no turning back for me."
Her voice cracked with every repetition. She pulled the sword free, and Sylvain staggered forward, blood trailing down his shirt. The Aetherkrone slipped from his hands, its light fading the moment it left his grasp.
"Lisa…" he coughed, collapsing to one knee. "What did she mean? What did Velmora mean… that you killed my brother?"
Lisa's face crumpled. She took a trembling step back. "I—I didn't mean to… I didn't… I'm sorry…"
Her words came out broken, almost inaudible.
Sylvain fell to the ground, the spear clattering beside him. His vision blurred, his heartbeat echoing faintly in his ears. His thoughts were switching between his memories of his elder brother and his memories with Lisa. He thought of the kingdom he wanted to protect to make his brother proud, of the family he wanted to build with Lisa after all of this were settled.
So this… was the end.
From the corner of his fading sight, he saw two figures step into the hall.
Riser.
And beside him—Margrada.
Riser's laughter filled the chamber, slow and venomous.
"Oh, look at that," he drawled. "The poor prince dies in the same hall as his brother. How poetic. Were you surprised, my beloved student?"
Sylvain's eyes widened, blood dribbling from his lips. Riser walked casually to Lisa and took the Aetherkrone from her trembling hands.
"Ah… magnificent," he whispered. As his Corrupted Aether Magic met the weapon, its golden hue darkened to deep blue and black. The spear twisted and reshaped itself into a long rod pulsing with malevolent light.
Riser smirked. "Aetherkrone. The legendary weapon made by the greatest black wizard ever, Zeref. A weapon born of the purest wind magic. Only those blessed with that magic can wield it fully. As it amplifies their power, allowing someone to cast magic on a greater scale than they can even dream about."
He turned the rod in his hands. Its glow dimmed, flickering faintly.
"Unfortunately," he said, smiling thinly, "I'm not a true Aether user. But that's fine. I've found… alternatives."
He glanced at Velmora.
"Bring them in."
The great doors opened, and guards dragged in several captured wizards—bound, beaten, their eyes empty, hollow, blank.
Sylvain's blood froze looking at the guards; he realized that their gazes were void, like puppets without souls.
Riser laughed softly. "Ah, don't recognize them? My youngest daughter—Lisa—has a rather special magic ability, inherited from her mother's cursed bloodline. She can read minds… and also control them completely."
Lisa stood motionless, her face pale and empty. She wanted her father to stop talking, but she could not master the courage to make even one sound. She fulfilled all of her father's wishes. Becoming a complete puppet of him as he wished, falling deeper into the darkness. And now she destroyed the only light in that dark, by her own hands.
"I had Velmora marry your brother to find this weapon," Riser continued. "She failed. But after you were imprisoned for suggesting to invade Fiore over your sister's death, I simply sent Lisa to finish the job."
Sylvain's fading breath hitched.
Riser smiled wider. "Your brother suspected something, of course. So clever—he even took poison before Lisa could reach his mind. Died before giving away the secret."
He crouched, looking Sylvain in the eyes. "But you, my dear prince—you undid his sacrifice in one single night. You gave me the weapon yourself."
"You… idiot," Sylvain rasped. "Can't you see? Aetherkrone is not accepting your incomplete Aether magic like it did with mine. Your Aether magic is not pure enough to wield it."
Riser's grin turned cruel. "Oh, I know. Which is why I plan to feed it with something else."
Riser raised the long rod in his hand, "I'm not sure what link Aether Magic has with souls," he mused, "but I discovered that this relic grows stronger when it devours souls. So I asked my dear daughter, Margrada, to collect a few powerful wizard souls from across the continent."
He smiled, almost kindly.
"And if that isn't enough, well… the people of this kingdom will serve just fine anyway."
Sylvain's body twitched. He tried to move, to raise his arm, to do anything, but his limbs refused his command.
He turned his head weakly toward Lisa. She was kneeling on the cold floor, shoulders trembling, tears streaming silently down her face.
Velmora moved beside her, calm as a shadow. She gripped Lisa's hair from behind her and forced her to look at the dying prince.
"You liar," Velmora whispered, her voice trembling with buried pain. "You promised that Leon would live once we learned the weapon's location from his mind. You couldn't keep that promise… so as your punishment, you have to feel the same pain as I did. Look at the man you love, dying because of your actions."
Lisa shook her head, sobbing quietly. The sight carved into Sylvain's heart like a blade. He should be mad at her, but…
"As a final mercy to my fellow student," Riser did not care about all the drama. Instead, he raised the Aetherkrone high, "I will make sure you at least don't have to watch as I collect the souls of the people of this kingdom."
The weapon descended.
—And a blinding golden screen erupted between them.
"Protect!"
A golden screen erupted between the Aetherkrone and Sylvain. Sparks scattered through the throne room as Riser's strike rebounded, shaking the marble floor.
"What—?" Riser's brows furrowed in confusion. He turned sharply, scanning for the source of the voice.
Then he felt it—the pressure of the air around him dropped suddenly.
From the far end of the room, a purple smoke came rushing toward him, swirling across the floor like a tornado..
Riser's instincts screamed. He spun the Aetherkrone forward, channeling his magic into it just as the smoke closed the distance in just one second and arrived in front of Riser.
"Sky Devil's"
The haze twisted, condensed, and materialized into the outline of a young boy.
A low, devilish whisper filled the air.
"Tempest Fist."
The impact of a fist colliding with Aetherkrone spread through the hall, destroying the floor beneath them in a huge circular crack.
"You're a real piece of work, old man," Astro said, his voice low. "Using your own daughter just to chase some power? That's not ambition—that's insanity."
Riser straightened, brushing the dust from his sleeve, his expression unbothered.
"You're the brat from Fairy Tail… Astro, was it?" His grin widened, the Aetherkrone pulsing faintly in his grip. "Good. The more souls I feed this weapon, the stronger it should grow. Yours will make an excellent addition."
He pointed the relic toward Astro, black-blue light crawling up its surface like veins of corruption.
"Astro…" Sylvain groaned weakly from behind, blood staining the floor beneath him. His voice was faint but filled with disbelief.
Astro didn't turn. He could feel that Sylvain was healing himself already, so he was not worried. His eyes instead stayed fixed on Riser; no, he focused more on the weapon held by Riser.
When his fist had touched the rod, the Aetherkrone, he felt something strange—a faint pulse that reached out to him. It wasn't just a reaction; it was almost… a recognition of some kind?.