At last, after what felt like endless hours of arduous, desperate swimming against a current that seemed determined to drag us into salty oblivion, I managed to reach the shore. Or, more accurately, I was spat out by the waves onto the sand like a particularly stubborn piece of seaweed. The scene before me, under the pale, ethereal light of the full moon, was of a breathtaking beauty, almost painful in its contrast to the hell we had left behind. But there was also a touch of desolation in that vastness, a loneliness that echoed my own. The beach stretched out in a wide band of fine, pale sand, lit only by the silvery moonlight reflecting on the dark, rhythmic waves of the sea. Tall, slender palm trees swayed gently in the night breeze, their long, dancing shadows cast upon the sand like gentle spectres. And the sound of the waves breaking on the shore, a constant, comforting murmur, was a musical relief that contrasted brutally with the tension, fear, and screams still echoing in my mind.
With little, now terribly fragile Erza still unconscious and heavy in my arms, I dragged myself with a difficulty that would have shamed me in other circumstances across the soft, cold sand, feeling every muscle in my body protest loudly, vehemently begging for a rest that seemed an unattainable luxury, a distant dream. The air was fresh, pure, laden with a light, invigorating scent of sea salt, brine, and the promise of a new beginning, a perfume that painfully reminded me that we were, finally, safe and far from Jellal, from the Tower of Heaven, and from all the madness, suffering, and dreadful architectural planning we had left behind. At least for now. Tranquillity, I knew, was always temporary.
[Phew, finally! Dry land! And with all limbs apparently intact! For a moment there, based on your dwindling vital energy levels and your stubborn refusal to ask for help, I genuinely thought you two wouldn't make it and I'd have to start seriously looking for a new host for my precious algorithms. And believe me, Azra'il, the prospect of inhabiting the brain of a hermit crab, however interesting from a scientific standpoint, was not at all appealing,] Eos's voice sounded in my mind, with a relief that was almost palpable, even for a cold, logical artificial intelligence like her. Or perhaps she was just relieved she wouldn't have to listen to me complain about the sea any longer.
"Shut your gob, you over-processed, overly dramatic tin can with a terrible sense of timing for jokes," I grumbled, without the slightest strength or inclination for a more elaborate or witty reply, as I collapsed exhausted onto the cold, damp sand, with Erza still nestled protectively in my arms like a newly rescued treasure. "Swimming, in any form, body, or universe, has always been, is, and probably always will be, a complete, absolute, universally unpleasant pain in the arse. It doesn't matter how many lives I've had, or how many different bodies, aquatic or not, I've inhabited. It's a cosmic constant of my existence. It is universally and profoundly disagreeable."
[Well, it's understandable, Azra'il. This current body of yours, despite its remarkable, still underutilised latent genetic potential for combat and mass destruction, has not yet developed the same superhuman physical endurance and aquatic adaptation capabilities you possessed in some of your more… aquatic past lives. I recall with a certain nostalgia that time you were a fearsome, respected elite warrior mermaid in Atlantis… But don't fret, with a bit more intensive training, a few accidental drownings, and perhaps a pact with some bored sea deity, you'll soon be back in shape and able to cross oceans with the grace of a dolphin and the fury of a leviathan.] Her optimism was, at times, profoundly irritating and entirely unnecessary.
I rolled my eyes with monumental effort, an action that seemed to drain my last reserves of energy, too tired, sore, and, frankly, seasick to even think of retorting to her precise, irritating, entirely unnecessary observations. My absolute, unquestionable, surprisingly urgent priority now was to care for the small, stubborn, unexpectedly important redhead who, somehow inexplicably and utterly irrationally, had become more than just a passing responsibility. She had become… something more. Something I couldn't yet, or wouldn't, name.
At that moment, as if sensing the urgency of my confused thoughts or perhaps just the scent of my growing concern, Erza began to stir gently beside me, a low, pained moan escaping her pale, chapped lips. Her eyes, previously closed and lifeless like those of a broken doll, slowly, hesitantly opened, blinking a few times against the bright, silvery moonlight, looking confused, lost, and disoriented for an instant, until they finally settled on my face with slow, gradual recognition. There was a raw, disarmed vulnerability there, in those large brown eyes, that hit me unexpectedly, like a punch to the gut.
"Azra'il…" her voice was weak, hoarse, almost inaudible, a mere breath of sound mingling with the noise of the waves. "Where… where are we? What…?"
With a visible effort that broke my heart in a way I hadn't expected, Erza slowly sat up, her small, trembling hands propped on the cold sand for stability, looking around with an expression of dawning comprehension and a palpable fear beginning to return to her eyes. Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief as she finally realised we were no longer in the oppressive darkness of the Tower of Heaven, that the metallic smell of blood, fear, and despair had been replaced by the fresh, clean scent of salt, brine, and the promise of an uncertain freedom.
"The tower…" she murmured, her voice still choked with saltwater and exhaustion, the painful realisation of reality dawning on her pale, injured, incredibly young face. "Jellal… what happened to… Jellal…" Her eyes filled with a new, terrible anguish.
Thenn, without any warning, like an ancient, overburdened dam finally giving way to the unbearable, constant pressure of water, Erza collapsed into tears, a convulsive, desperate, heart-wrenching sob that seemed to come from the deepest, darkest depths of her young, wounded, tortured soul. The despair etchedon herr countenance was a sight that broke my heart in a way I hadn't known, or remembered, was still possible. It was a pain I recognised alltooo well.
"Jellal… he… he's gonecompletelyy, utterly mad, Azra'il," she sobbed, the words tumbling out, amidst painful, violent sobs and tears that wouldn't stop streaming down her dirty face, tracing clean paths in the soot and dried blood. "He wants… he wants to rebuild that damned, unholy Tower of Heaven, bigger, worse, more terrible than before… he wants to use our friends, those who were left behind, as servants… to work on the bloody tower… to resurrect some ancient, evil, terribly powerful god called Zeref… He… he told me… with those cold, empty eyes… he said if I tell anyone about his insane plans, or if I, somehow, try to stop him from carrying out his madness… he'll… he'll kill all my friends… one by one… Simon, Sho, Wally, Milliana… all of them…" Her voice broke completely at the end of the sentence, and she hunched over, as if the unbearable weight of those words, of that threat, of that responsibility, was too much for her small, fragile shoulders to bear.
I felt my own ancient heart, an organ I had long supposed to have turned to cold, indifferent stone, ache painfully in my chest at the sight of the raw pain, absolute terror, and overwhelming despair on her face. Now, finally, painfully, I understood the desperate panic in her voice when she had begged me, with her last strength, not to return to the tower. She wasn't just afraid for herself. She was trying to protect me. And, more importantly, she was trying to protect the others, her friends, those she considered her family. Even at the cost of her own safety, her own freedom. That small, stubborn, incredibly brave little redhead.
"Erza…" I murmured, my voice surprisingly soft, hoarse, and filled with an emotion I hadn't recognised in myself for centuries, as I hesitantly but firmly pulled her into an awkward embrace. It was strange, this voluntary physical contact, this almost instinctive need to offer comfort, to share the weight of pain. But, somehow inexplicably, it felt… right. Necessary. "You don't have to carry all this horrible weight, all this guilt, all this fear alone, you stubborn little idiot. You're not alone."
She clung to me with the desperate strength of a shipwrecked sailor clinging to a single, fragile piece of wood amidst a violent, relentless storm, her small, trembling body convulsing with the overwhelming force of the sobs that finally overflowed without restraint, without shame, wetting my shoulder with her hot, salty tears full of indescribable pain.
"I… I don't know what to do, Azra'il… I just don't know…" she sobbed against my shoulder, her voice muffled, broken, and filled with an anguish so deep it cut me inside in a way I hadn't thought possible anymore. "I can't leave the children behind… I can't abandon my friends to that madman's mercy… they're all I have… but I also can't… I can't just let Jellal do what he wants… he'll destroy everything… he'll hurt everyone… he's not the Jellal I knew anymore…"
"Shh, shh, it's going to be alright, little redhead… It's going to be alright…" I tried to soothe her, my voice a soft murmur, almost a song, comforting and firm, as I instinctively began to stroke her red, tangled, sandy hair, my eyes fixed on the seemingly tranquil, infinitely silver sea before us. The vastness of the ocean, the rhythmic constancy of the waves, somehow inexplicably, seemed to offer a silent promise of stability, of continuity, amidst the chaos and uncertainty of our lives. "We'll find a way. The two of us. Together. I promise you."
The soft, cool night breeze seemed to mingle with my words, carrying them out to the dark sea, as if the universe itself, in its vast, indifferent wisdom, was somehow endorsing my impulsive promise, supporting me in that utterly irrational, dangerously sentimental decision to care about the fate of that small, troublesome human. The moonlight, like a celestial spotlight, reflected on the waves gently breaking on the shore, creating a silvery, trembling, shimmering path that seemed to invite us to move forward, not to look back, not to give up hope.
Erza nodded weakly against my shoulder, her sobs gradually diminishing in intensity, though her small, thin body still trembled like a leaf in the wind. I held her a little tighter, feeling an unexpected, fierce, utterly surprising wave of protectiveness and a cold, calculating, implacable determination forming and solidifying within me, like steel being tempered in fire. That bloody Jellal, whatever had corrupted him and turned him into that delusional monster, had crossed a line. He had become a potential tyrant, a threat not only to Erza but to all the children she loved so dearly, the same children who, in some strange, inexplicable, utterly inconvenient way, had also begun to nestle in a dusty, forgotten, surprisingly vulnerable corner of my own cynical, ancient heart. But I wouldn't let him hurt them. Not anymore. Not while I was alive and breathing. Not while I had the strength to fight and a considerable repertoire of destructive powers at my disposal.
"I won't let him do absolutely anything to you lot, Erza," I whispered in her ear, my voice now firm, cold as the steel of a newly forged blade, and laden with a conviction that came from a place far deeper than mere confidence in my power. "I swear, here and now, under this sky and before this sea, that as long as I draw breath, that blue-haired tyrant-wannabe won't lay a single finger on you or the other children. He may have his delusions of grandeur, but he will learn, the hard way, what it means to cross my path when something – or someone – I've decided to protect is at stake. He won't hurt anyone else. I'll see to that personally." And I rarely made promises, especially promises so laden with… well, with something that dangerously resembled a sense of responsibility and, blow me down, affection. But when I did, even the universe seemed to hold its breath. And usually, there was a considerable amount of collateral damage involved, but that was just a logistical detail.
Erza tightened her embrace even more, her small hands gripping my back with surprising, desperate strength, letting her final tears, tears of pain, fear, but perhaps also of a small, newfound relief, wet my shoulder. I stayed there, sitting on the cold, damp sand of the deserted beach, under the pale, watchful light of the full moon, just holding her, stroking her soft, rebellious hair, until her sobs finally subsided completely and her breathing became more regular, calmer, deeper. The night, I knew, was only just beginning. And our fight, our long, arduous fight for survival, for freedom, and perhaps, just perhaps, for a minimally decent future, was far, far from over. But, for the first time in many, many ages, I didn't feel completely, utterly alone in it. And that, in itself, was a small, frightening, uncomfortable, and perhaps even welcome miracle.
-------------(*)-------------
After Erza's crying finally ceased, turning into occasional hiccups and a profound exhaustion that left her limp as a rag doll, we both got up from the cold sand with mutual groans from sore muscles and bones that felt as if they'd been chewed by a particularly ill-tempered dragon. The night, despite everything, continued to be surprisingly beautiful in its coastal serenity, almost mocking our misfortune.
Erza nodded, her face still stained with tears and the grime of battle, but her one good eye, now a little swollen and red, shone with a new, fragile determination under the moonlight. She looked like a little phoenix beginning to gather her own ashes, but already sharpening her claws for the next fight. That girl had more grit than many armies I'd faced.
[Azra'il, according to my detailed geographical mapping and sophisticated terrain analysis, you are currently located in a relatively dense coastal forest, likely teeming with hungry nocturnal creatures, on the vast, unknown continent of Fiore. Based on my distance calculations, sea currents, and probable commercial shipping routes in the region, there should be a small, picturesque fishing village, or perhaps just a smugglers' camp, approximately a few kilometres north from here. With any luck, they'll have food that isn't raw fish and, who knows, minimally comfortable, bedbug-free beds,] Eos's voice, always so pragmatic and occasionally pessimistic, broke the contemplative silence.
(Right. Decent food and minimally comfortable beds. Two of my favourite things in the entire multiverse, especially after a near-drowning experience and being used as a tear-blotter by a hormonal pre-teen,) I said mentally, trying to inject a bit of levity and my usual sarcasm into my voice, as I began to walk slowly, and with considerable stiffness, towards the dark, dense line of vegetation marking the start of the mysterious forest. (Let's look for this miraculous, promising village of yours then, Eos. My feet are killing me as if I'd danced barefoot on hot coals, and I swear I'd give one of my conquered kingdoms from a past life for a simple piece of bread that didn't taste of mouldy sawdust or existential despair.)
Erza accompanied me in silence, limping slightly, but her steps, despite the evident exhaustion and pain, were now surprisingly firm and resolute beside me. It seemed the little, stubborn, incredibly resilient redhead had, somehow inexplicably, regained a significant part of her inner strength and indomitable determination. Or perhaps she was just too stubborn to admit how exhausted, injured, and emotionally devastated she really was. Probably both. She was irritatingly like me in that respect.
After a few minutes of uncomfortable, rather awkward walking through the soft sand that insisted on sticking to my tail and then through the undergrowth that seemed determined to trip my feet, we reached a small, unexpected clearing in the forest, where a small, charming waterfall of crystal-clear, shimmering water, illuminated by the moon like liquid diamonds, flowed gently over smooth, dark, moss-covered stones, forming a small, inviting natural pool before continuing its winding, tranquil course towards a mysterious river that disappeared into the impenetrable darkness of the dense forest. Nearby, partially hidden between large, slippery moss-covered rocks and lush ferns swaying in the night breeze, I spotted the dark, inviting, surprisingly dry entrance to a small cave. The perfect place for a temporary hideout.
"Oi, Erza, my little, now officially named Scarlet Valkyrie, how about a small, well-deserved break for weary, emotionally battered warriors?" I gestured with my chin, with an air of triumphant discovery, towards the promising cave entrance. "That over there, if my survival instincts don't fail me – and they rarely do when it comes to finding a place to kip – looks like an ideal spot to spend the night, don't you think? Dry, sheltered from the elements and prying eyes, and with a relaxing, natural soundtrack of running water to lull us to sleep. Definitely better and safer than kipping rough on the beach with curious crabs, hungry mosquitoes, and the ever-present possibility of being found by vengeful cultists."
She surveyed the cave for a moment, her brown eye scanning the darkness with an understandable caution born of her recent, traumatic experience with enclosed, dangerous places. Then, with a sigh of relief and exhaustion, she turned to me with a small, almost imperceptible nod.
"Yes, Azra'il. I think… I think it will be a good refuge for now. A safe place to rest a bit." Her shoulders seemed to relax a little. "We both desperately need to rest, regain our strength, and, more importantly, think calmly and clearly about our next, uncertain steps. About Jellal… about our friends who were left behind… about everything."
[Azra'ill, for your information and strategic planning, I have already marked the possible location of the aforementioned fishing village on your holographic mental mini-map. It is approximately 5 kilometres north-west from here. A relatively short, doable walk in the morning, provided you two aren't intercepted by any particularly hungry, territorial, or inhospitably-inclined forest creatures. And, of course, provided you don't get lost.]
(Right, Eos. I am immensely grateful for your usual, ever-so-reassuring dose of optimism and your unshakeable faith in my navigational skills,) I replied mentally, with a sarcasm she probably registered as a normal fluctuation in my mood patterns. (Keep a virtual, watchful eye on this area, please. In case we need to head there tomorrow in search of crucial information, basic supplies, or, more importantly, a minimally decent breakfast thatdoesn'tt involve insects or suspicious roots.)
We entered the cave with instinctive caution, our senses sharp and alert for any sign of danger. But, to our mutual relief, it proved to be dry, surprisingly spacious, and, most importantly, apparently uninhabited by any creature larger, more dangerous, or hungrier than a few sleepy, likely harmless bats hanging from the high, dark ceiling. The soft, constant, tranquil sound of the waterfall echoed rhythmically from outside, like a lullaby from nature, creating an unexpectedly peaceful, serene, almost welcoming atmosphere. It was almost too good to be true.
(Eos, my dear, omnipresent AI companion, can you detect any imminent danger, any particularly unpleasant creature with hostile intentions lurking in the deep, dark shadows around here? Or perhaps some stray cultist with a terrible sense of direction?) I asked mentally, looking around intently with my sharpened senses, though my body was, at that moment, loudly begging for an immediate, total, possibly permanent collapse.
[Negative, Azra'il. After a complete, thorough scan of the immediate environment, there is nothing on my sensors indicating the presence of hostile creatures of considerable size or power, or any dangerous or anomalous magical energies in the vicinity of this cave. This location appears to be, indeed, a relatively safe, well-protected natural refuge for you both to rest, recover, and, perhaps, plan your next, inevitable series of questionable decisions.]
(Right. Marvellous. Genuinely good news, at last. I don't think my ears were prepared for so much positivity,) I sighed, feeling a wave of genuine relief and even greater exhaustion wash over my tired, aching body, as I sat, or rather, collapsed, onto the cold but thankfully dry cave floor. "We'll stay here for today, Erza. Rest and recover our energies. You, more than anyone, desperately need to rest a bit and try to process everything that's happened. Trying to save the world, your troublesome friends, and your own skin is dreadfully exhausting work, especially for someone your size."
She nodded in silence, her shoulders finally slumping a little under the weight of accumulated exhaustion, and sat down beside me with a weary sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her soul. Her gaze was lost in the darkness of the cave, but there was a new, unshakeable determination shining in her eyes, a strength that seemed to have been forged in the fire of tragedy and sacrifice. That girl was a fascinating enigma, a complex mixture of fragility and indomitable strength.
"Azra'il," she said suddenly, her voice firm, clear, and filled with a newfound resolution, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between us. "I need to… I've decided. I need to join Fairy Tail."
I smiled, a genuine, understanding, perhaps even slightly nostalgic smile, remembering the warm, funny stories, full of an almost palpable camaraderie, that kind, old Rob had told us with such affection about that noisy, chaotic, destructive, apparently legendary guild.
"Fairy Tail, eh? So that's where the little, brave, now officially named scarlet warrior intends to go in search of strength, knowledge, and, who knows, some allies willing to fight a pre-teen tyrant possessed by a dark entity with terrible decorating ideas?"
She nodded with a vehemence and conviction that left no room for doubt, her brown eyes shining with a new, fervent hope that seemed to emanate from within her.
"Yes. Exactly. Gramps Rob always spoke so fondly, with so much love and longing, about that guild. He said they weren't just work colleagues or adventure companions, that they were much more than that… that they were like a real, noisy family. Bound by ties stronger than blood, loyal to each other to the end, always ready to fight, to protect, and to forgive one another, no matter what, no matter how stupid or dangerous the situation. And now, Azra'il, more than ever, after everything that's happened, after everything I've lost… I need to find a place like that. A place to call home. A place to get stronger, to learn more about this strange magic that's awakened within me, and to find a way, a means, any means, to stop Jellal's terrible, insane plans and to save our friends who were left behind, trapped in that damned tower." Her voice was choked with emotion, but her eyes shone with unshakeable determination.
"I understand," I replied softly, my voice surprisingly devoid of sarcasm, as I placed a small, hesitant hand on her equally small but surprisingly strong shoulder. There was a deep, unexpected resonance in her words, a desperate longing for belonging, for justice, for a purpose, that I, in some strange, unsettling, utterly illogical way, understood on a fundamental level. It was a longing I myself had felt, in many lives, in many worlds. "So, if this is your chosen path, Erza Scarlet, if this is where your stubborn, wounded heart guides you… I suppose, well… I suppose I'll go with you. Against my better judgement and my personal preference for a quiet, drama-free life, I won't let you face all this alone." The words, once again, came out before I could think properly about them, before my cynical logic and self-preservation instinct could intervene and call me a sentimental fool. Bugger. What was happening to me?
Her eye, the one eye she had left, expressive and now incredibly bright brown eye, widened in genuine, almost incredulous surprise.
"You… you really… you'll really go with me, Azra'il? Truly? Even?" There was such raw vulnerability, such palpable hope, such profound gratitude in her voice that it almost made me recoil, almost made me build my walls of indifference again. Almost.
"Of course I will, you little, stubborn, irritatingly captivating troublemaker," I smiled, desperately trying to sound more casual, more indifferent, considerably less… sentimental than I actually felt at that moment. This having feelings business was terribly inconvenient and confusing. "After all, as you said yourself, we're friends, aren't we? Or, at least, we're irrevocably, possibly disastrously stuck together in this whole mess up to our necks. And I, technically, and against my initial will, solemnly promised I wouldn't abandon you. And I, Azra'il Weiss, a Beastman of flexible morality with a terrible track record for breaking promises, usually, most of the time, when it suits me and when there isn't a more amusing alternative, keep my promises. At least the important ones."
Erza stared at me for a few moments, her lips slowly parting as if she wanted to say something profound and significant, but no words managed to escape. Then, a sincere, radiant, ear-to-ear, incredibly beautiful smile dawned on her face, illuminating the damp darkness of the cave far more than the small, crackling fire I had just made. She nodded slowly, her eye shining with tears of relief and gratitude, looking immensely, profoundly relieved, as if a crushing, invisible weight had suddenly, miraculously been lifted from her small but incredibly strong shoulders by the simple, unexpected certainty of no longer being completely, utterly alone on that frightening, dangerous, uncertain journey.
"Thank you, Azra'il. Truly. From the bottom of my heart. I… I really don't know what I would do, or where I would be now, without you here with me." Her voice was low, almost a whisper, but laden with an emotion so genuine, so pure, so powerful that it left me uncomfortable, embarrassed, and, to my utter, absolute surprise, strangely, unexpectedly… warmed inside. Feelings. What an irritating, confusing, utterly inconvenient thing. And yet…
"Oi, no need to thank me, you little dramatic scarlet queen," I said, desperately trying to deflect the potentially overly sentimental, awkward moment, pulling her awkwardly into a quick, slightly clumsy, surprisingly comforting hug. It was strange, this voluntary, unsolicited physical contact. But, to my surprise, it wasn't… bad. Not at all. "We're in this whole mess together till the end, remember? And you can be sure of one thing, little redhead: we will, somehow, show that ex-friend of yours, Jellal, now with a god complex, and any other megalomaniacal idiot with delusions of grandeur who dares cross our path, who's really in charge around here."
Erza returned the hug with surprising strength and newfound confidence, and I could feel her renewed determination, her stubbornly rekindled hope, vibrating through her small, thin body against mine. Together. The word echoed in my mind with a weight and meaning I hadn't expected. It was a concept with which I, the eternal loner, the detached observer, hadn't been very familiar in the last many, many ages. But, somehow strangely, inexplicably, utterly illogically, with that small, stubborn, irritating, incredibly brave redhead by my side, the idea of 'together' didn't seem so frightening, so oppressive, or so… impossible. Now, with the legendary, noisy, probably utterly chaotic mages' guild known as Fairy Tail as our uncertain, distant, possibly dangerous destination, we had a new, unlikely goal to pursue. And, to be completely, painfully honest with myself, a small, tiny, almost imperceptible part of me, that part I tried very hard, usually successfully, to ignore and suppress, was almost… almost dangerously… excited about it. May the Cosmic entities help me. Or, more likely, may they just watch and laugh at my impending doom.
After our surprisingly productive, emotionally draining conversation about our next, entirely uncertain steps, and with the seemingly irrevocable decision to seek out the notorious, probably overrated Fairy Tail guild firmly made, I stood up with an audible groan of muscular effort and a grimace of pain I tried to disguise as an expression of deep philosophical contemplation. I began to gather some dry twigs, fallen leaves, and any other combustible material I could find at the cave entrance and the nearby forest edge. Erza watched me in silence, sitting near the cave wall, her brown eye, now a little less frightened and a little more curious, shining with a childlike intensity, probably wondering what I, the strange, sarcastic, occasionally frighteningly competent child, was planning to do now. She probably expected me to conjure a banquet out of thin air or open a portal to another dimension. Children and their unrealistic expectations.
I positioned myself carefully in the centre of the cave, cleared a small circular area on the packed earth floor, and, with a few precise, skilful, surprisingly efficient strikes of two flint stones that I, by happy coincidence and impeccable planning, conveniently 'found' in one of the hidden pockets of my tattered tunic (one never knows when a primitive survival skill, learned in some particularly miserable life, might come in handy, or when one needs an excuse to carry stones in one's pockets), I managed, after a few frustrated attempts and some stubborn sparks, to create a small but cheerful, crackling fire. The fire crackled and danced merrily, its orange and yellow flames casting flickering shadows on the cave walls and illuminating my face with a warm, primitive, strangely comforting glow. There was something fundamentally satisfying about creating fire with one's own hands.
"There," I said with an air of evident satisfaction and a touch of poorly disguised pride, sitting down beside Erza, near the welcome, comforting warmth of the small fire. "Now we can warm ourselves a bit from the night chill, dry our still damp, sea-stinking clothes, and, most importantly, have a bit of light to ward off hungry shadows and imaginary monsters during the night. And who knows, with a bit of luck and a lot of patience, we might even manage to roast some unlucky squirrel or an unsuspecting fish that crosses our path and decides to volunteer for dinner."
She looked at the small fire with an expression of genuine admiration and a touch of surprise in her eyes. For a child who had probably never had to worry about such basic things as making a fire to survive, this must have seemed almost magical.
"You… you really are very skilled, Azra'il. Impressive," she said, her voice still a little hoarse, but with a tone of genuine respect. "How did you learn to make fire like that, so quickly, so easily, and without using magic?"
I shrugged, with a feigned modesty that probably fooled no one, and sketched a small, enigmatic, perhaps slightly smug smile.
"Let's just say growing up in places like Raven's End teaches you a few tricks. You learn to make do with what you've got, or you don't make do at all. Some cold nights and empty stomachs are great survival teachers," I explained, with a simplicity that hid the true extent of my… experiences. "But don't worry, little redhead, I don't think we'll need any particularly special skills for now to deal with this forest. Unless, of course, some particularly large, hungry brown bear with a terrible sense of humour decides to pay us an unwelcome nocturnal visit in search of an easy snack. In which case," a mischievous glint appeared in my eyes, "things might get a bit more… noisy and interesting."
Erza seemed momentarily, intensely curious about what exactly I meant by "noisy and interesting," her eyes shining with an unasked question and a thirst for knowledge that was almost palpable. But, wisely, and perhaps remembering some of my previous demonstrations of… combat efficiency, she decided not to press the matter for now. Perhaps she had already seen enough of my… uniqueness and potential for chaos for one very long day. Or perhaps, deep down, she instinctively realised it was better, for her own sanity and for the safety of the local ecosystem, to keep some of my… less conventional talents secret, at least for now. Explaining to a nine-year-old child, even one as extraordinary as Erza, the true nature of some of my "abilities" could be a bit… complicated and, possibly, excessively traumatising. And I had already filled her trauma quota for quite some time.
In fact, as Eos, my faithful, irritating AI companion, loved to remind me with entirely unnecessary frequency, I possessed skills, talents, and powers that went far, far beyond the conventional, Ether-based magic of this particular world and many others. Through my numerous, varied, occasionally problematic connections with certain Primordial Entities, Ancient Gods, Cosmic Forces, and occasionally mildly insane interdimensional beings with a terrible sense of humour, I had access to a vast, diverse, frequently dangerous array of powers that didn't even require an external energy source like Ethernano to be utilised. They were, for the most part, an intrinsic part of me, as fundamental and natural to my being as breathing, or sarcasm to my personality. However, to my eternal frustration and for the luck of the universe in general, the small, fragile, frustratingly limited, changing body I occupied in this particular life was not yet capable of withstanding, channelling, or manifesting my full, vast, glorious, potentially apocalyptic destructive… I mean, creative and constructive potential. For now, for the safety of all involved, I could only use minuscule, carefully controlled, generally weakened fragments of these powers, in a rather limited fashion, with considerable effort, and often with unpleasant, inconvenient side effects, such as terrible headaches lasting for days, crushing fatigue, a sudden, uncontrollable urge to eat large, absurd quantities of strangely flavoured ice cream, or, in more extreme cases, small, uncontrollable bursts of chaotic energy that could, accidentally, level a small town. Details.
[Azra'il, should I take this moment of relative calm, before you decide to accidentally blow something up, to inform you that, after your last, rather… exuberant display of combat skills in the tower, and the subsequent, clearly gruelling aquatic rescue of young Erza, your overall experience level and your familiarity with the limitations and potentialities of this body have increased considerably and statistically significantly. Your basic attributes are, at the moment, somewhat more strengthened and responsive. Nothing spectacular or universe-altering, of course, but it's progress. Small, but progress nonetheless,] Eos's voice, always so efficient, precise, and subtly condescending, sounded in my mind with the air of someone delivering a mediocre school report.
I nodded mentally, feeling a small but genuine, welcome wave of satisfaction wash over me. It was good to know that all that Herculean effort, all that adrenaline, all that spilled blood, and that highly unpleasant near-drowning hadn't been completely, utterly in vain, at least in terms of personal development and skill-unlocking. Every little victory counted.
(Right, Eos. Good news is always welcome, especially when accompanied by an increase, however modest, in power and a decrease in the likelihood of me accidentally exploding,) I replied mentally, with a touch of genuine relief. (That will certainly help us on the long, arduous, probably terribly dangerous journey ahead until we manage to find this so-called Fairy Tail guild. And, who knows, with a bit more power, perhaps I'll finally be able to conjure a minimally comfortable, non-mouldy-smelling pillow to sleep on tonight. That would be a welcome luxury.)
As we chatted amiably and watched mesmerised the dancing, crackling flames of the small fire, which now cast long, flickering shadows on the cave walls, I noticed that Erza, despite her stubbornness and facade of strength, looked more and more tired, her small, thin shoulders involuntarily slumping under the weight of physical and emotional exhaustion. Her eyes, normally so bright, alert, and full of an almost fierce intensity, began to grow heavy, her eyelids closing slowly, involuntarily with increasing frequency, and she visibly struggled, with a stubbornness that was both touching and a little ridiculous, to keep them open, shaking her head slightly from side to side in a vain attempt to ward off the overwhelming sleepiness that dominated her.
"Oi, stubborn little giant with an impressive capacity for accumulating tiredness," I said softly, my voice little more than a whisper so as not to startle her, as I touched her shoulder with a gentleness that would surprise even myself. She flinched slightly at the unexpected contact, but, to my surprise, she didn't pull away, nor did she even protest the nickname. A good sign, perhaps. "You look absolutely, completely knackered. And, honestly, with every right in the world. It's been a… particularly hectic, intense, emotionally charged day, to say the very least. Why don't you get some proper rest now? Forget the problems, forget Jellal, forget the tower. Just… rest. You can rest your head here on my lap, if you like. I solemnly promise I won't bite. Much. Nor will I nick your non-existent shoes while you sleep."
Erza stared at me for a long moment, her eyes, now heavy with sleep and a little confused, meeting mine in the dimness of the cave. There was an expression of childish, almost painful vulnerability on her face that was both touching and a little irritating to my cynical, hardened heart. She looked a bit embarrassed by my unexpected offer, or perhaps just surprised by so much… kindness coming from me, the strange, sarcastic child who had just slaughtered a small army of guards.
"Oi, I… I'm not little!" she managed to retort, with a final, weak, desperate attempt to maintain her tough, independent facade, though her voice was little more than a sleepy, almost inaudible murmur. She even tried, almost pathetically, to cross her arms over her chest in a gesture of defiance, but her arms seemed too heavy, as if made of lead, and barely moved. "You know… you know full well I'm… I'm taller than you, you… you terribly irritating Azra'il with dreadful nicknames."
I smiled, a genuine, tender, amused smile at her adorable stubbornness and her utter, absolute inability to resist the call of sleep. She was so predictable sometimes. And so captivating in her stubbornness.
"Oh, really? Are you absolutely sure about that, my little, stubborn giant? Then explain to me, please, with all your logic and eloquence, why you look like you're about to collapse onto the hard cave floor at any moment and hibernate soundly for a whole week, or perhaps a month, eh, sleepy, stubborn little redhead?"
She narrowed her eye at me in a pathetic attempt to look threatening and offended, but the overall effect was more that of a very small, very sleepy, slightly grumpy kitten trying to look fierce before falling asleep. Shortly thereafter, to my relief and amusement, her tense, tired face finally softened, overwhelming exhaustion definitively conquering her stubbornness and childish pride.
"Alright… maybe… maybe I am just a tiny bit… terribly… tired," she finally admitted, with a yawn so large and deep it almost dislocated her small jaw and made her eyes water. "But you don't have to keep calling me little all the time! It's annoying! And I'm still taller!" Even on the verge of collapse, she wouldn't abandon her principles. Admirable.
"Sorry, sorry, force of habit and pure sadistic fun on my part," I said, chuckling softly with genuine affection. "You know I'm only teasing you, you adorable little stubborn troublemaker. Most of the time. So, what do you say? My offer of an improvised, surprisingly comfortable, entirely strings-free lap is still open. And I solemnly promise, hand on my non-existent heart, that I won't tell absolutely anyone that you, Erza Scarlet, the future greatest mage of the Fairy Tail Guild, used my skinny thigh as an improvised pillow."
Erza hesitated for just one more moment, her heavy eyes fighting bravely, but in vain, to stay open against the overwhelming tide of sleep. Then, slowly, with the almost palpable reluctance of someone yielding to a forbidden but irresistible temptation, she moved closer to me and, with a long, deep sigh that seemed to carry all the tiredness, all the pain, all the weight of the world on her small shoulders, she rested her small head, full of soft, rebellious red hair, on my lap. Her face, even in the dimness of the cave, was adorably flushed with childish embarrassment and palpable exhaustion, but her eyes, finally, were already beginning to close, the final, inevitable surrender to sleep's embrace at last conquering her stubbornness and wounded pride.
"Thank you… Azra'il… for everything…" she murmured, her voice soft, sleepy, almost inaudible, but laden with a sincerity that hit me squarely.
"Shh, rest now, stubborn little redhead. You deserve it," I whispered, my voice surprisingly gentle and devoid of any trace of sarcasm, as instinctively, almost as a reflex from some long-forgotten past life where I might have been… maternal, I began to stroke her soft, silky hair, smelling of smoke, brine, and surprising innocence. It was a strangely comforting, almost hypnotic gesture, both for her and, to my utter, absolute surprise and slight embarrassment, for me too. "I'll keep an eye on you. No one, absolutely no one, will hurt you while I'm here. I promise."
Erza nodded slightly against my lap, a small, almost imperceptible sigh of contentment escaping her parted lips, and then, finally, she let herself be carried away by the deep, healing embrace of sleep, her small, tense body gradually relaxing against me, her breathing becoming calmer, deeper, more rhythmic and serene. I watched her sleep for a long moment, her face now peaceful and free of any trace of fear or pain, and I felt a strange, new, intensely protective sensation settle and warm in my chest, like a small, stubborn ember refusing to go out. That girl, that small, irritating force of nature, was… special. Somehow inexplicably, she had become my responsibility. My small, stubborn, irritating, incredibly important responsibility. And I would do anything to protect her. Anything.
Delicately, with a care and tenderness I rarely, if ever, showed for any living being in any of my many and varied existences, I continued to stroke Erza's sleeping head, feeling the surprising softness and comforting warmth of her rebellious hair between my fingers. And then, without thinking, almost as an ancestral reflex from some long-forgotten past life where music and tenderness might have had a place, I began to hum a soft, ancient, almost forgotten, strangely harmonious melody, a lullaby I vaguely recalled, like a sweet, melancholic echo of a distant dream, from one of my countless, diverse, frequently chaotic incarnations.
"La la la… la la la…" my voice, normally so sharp, sarcastic, and cutting, now sounded surprisingly soft, low, almost ethereal, like the whisper of the night wind, as it echoed delicately through the silent cave, blending harmoniously with the constant, tranquil sound of the waterfall singing its own song outside.
"Gales of song, guide me through the storm," the words flowed from my lips like water from a hidden spring, laden with a soft melancholy and a stubborn hope.
"On wings of a small and simple melody," I continued, my voice gaining a little more strength, but maintaining its tenderness, as I watched Erza's sleeping, serene face, so young, so fragile, and yet, so incredibly strong.
"The words fly and fly, they carry me…" The melody was simple, almost childlike, but there was a depth to it, a resonance that spoke of long journeys, painful losses, and the strength found in companionship and the promise of a new dawn.
"A world we'll see… together, perhaps…" I added the last part in an almost inaudible whisper, more to myself than to her, feeling a strange, unfamiliar tightness in my chest.
"A life without you… I cannot accept…" The last words were almost a breath, a silent, involuntary confession of something I couldn't yet, or wouldn't, fully understand. An ancient, familiar fear of losing those few, precious beings who, somehow, managed to break through my defences and nestle in my weary heart.
[Ah, Azura and her emotional bangers,] Eos's voice sounded in my mind, with a tone that was a peculiar mixture of nostalgia and affectionate mockery. [I still remember when that song was top of the intergalactic charts for six stellar cycles straight. And that get-up of yours with flashing lights and gravity-defying shoulder pads. Good times. Or, at least, visually… memorable times. You really knew how to make an entrance, piloting the Valkyrie and singing at the same time. Cosmic multitasking at its finest.] She clearly remembered every embarrassing detail of that incarnation.
I chuckled softly, a gentle sound that didn't disturb Erza's deep sleep, who now snored peacefully on my lap, completely oblivious to my intergalactic recollections, my secret space idol identities, and my AI companion's sarcastic comments.
"Yes, my dear, perceptive, occasionally snooping Eos, you have a truly excellent memory for my more… exuberant and unconventional moments," I murmured, with a small, amused smile, as I continued to hum the soft, hypnotic, strangely comforting melody. "The hectic, sequin-filled era when I was the dazzling, talented, intergalactically famous Combat Pop Idol Azura, piloting the powerful, stylish Valkyrie Mark VII with enviable mastery during the Great, Destructive Space War against the fearsome, disgusting, musically challenged Zergnoids, was truly a unique, memorable, exhausting experience with an absolutely fabulous, dangerously flammable wardrobe. And, I must admit, the songs were very good too. Cathartic, as they said. And they sold a lot of records." Good times. Or at least, very, very noisy times, full of colourful explosions, space glitter, elaborate battle choreographies, and hysterical fans. They were different kinds of monsters to deal with.
My voice, now imbued with an unexpected grace, a surprising sweetness, and a tenderness I rarely, if ever, allowed the outside world to see, continued to flow softly through the dark, silent cave, filling it with an unexpectedly serene, welcoming, protective, almost… sacred atmosphere. Erza stirred slightly on my lap, a small, almost imperceptible sigh of pure, childlike contentment escaping her parted lips, seeming to relax even more deeply under the magical, comforting sound of my ancient, almost forgotten lullaby.
Recalling that particular past life, with all its superficial glamour, constant danger, and occasional, hilarious out-of-tune crises in the midst of space combat against enemy ships, always brought an amused, slightly nostalgic, perhaps even a little melancholic smile to my lips. Being a pop idol famous and beloved by millions of fans across the galaxy, who was also secretly an elite, highly decorated fighter pilot, often the last, desperate hope of the galactic fleet against a relentless alien invasion with a terrible fashion sense, was something few people, or entities with multiple incarnations, could say they had experienced in their existences. But for me, Azra'il, the collector of strange lives, bizarre experiences, and even stranger names, that had been just another of my countless, varied, exhausting, frequently utterly chaotic incarnations. One among so many others, each with its own joys, sorrows, triumphs, and, invariably, a tragicomic ending and a few hit singles.
I sang softly, with the gentlest voice I could manage, until my own eyes began to grow heavy with an exhaustion that came from a place much deeper, much older than just the physical fatigue of the previous battle and the rescue at sea. The day, or rather, the last few days, had been long, terribly long, and the night, though now calmer, still promised to be challenging and full of uncertainties. I decided that, even being the self-proclaimed, reluctant guardian of the sleeping little redhead, it was also time for me to rest a bit myself, to recharge my own battered batteries, but not before making sure, once more and with almost obsessive care, that Erza was completely safe, duly warmed by the small fire, and as comfortable as possible on her improvised, probably uncomfortable lap-bed.
Carefully, so as not to wake her and disturb her much-needed, well-deserved sleep, I settled myself as best I could against the cold, damp cave wall, with Erza's small, red-haired head still resting peacefully, with childlike trust, on my lap. It was a rather uncomfortable, precarious position for me, and I would probably wake up with a terrible backache and numb legs, but the sight of that small, stubborn, incredibly strong warrior's serene, peaceful, sleeping face, free for a brief, precious moment from all fear, all pain, all the weight of the world, was an unexpected, strange, surprisingly… gratifying reward. So, with a final, gentle stroke of her soft hair, I closed my tired eyes and let myself be carried away by the welcome, dark, silent embrace of sleep, with the ancient, sweet, comforting melody of my almost forgotten lullaby still echoing softly in my mind and, perhaps, in the sleeping, dreaming heart of the small, stubborn redhead who slept, safe and protected, in my arms. And, for the first time in many, many, countless ages, I didn't feel completely, absolutely, utterly alone in the vast, cold, indifferent universe. Which was, in itself, a thought both frightening, uncomfortable, and strangely, dangerously, perhaps even… comforting. May the gods, or whoever was in charge of this cosmic circus, have mercy on my cynical, hardened soul. I was starting to like this brat. Damn it. And Eos would never let me forget it.