Fairy Tail: Beneath a Falling Star

Chapter 11 – "Emberlight"

Year X782

The morning came with a hush.

No crows cawed, no wind stirred the leaves. Just the steady rhythm of Caelion's breath as he stood at the edge of the hillside trail, his eyes tracing the path that curled down into the world below.

The coat clung to his shoulders with unfamiliar weight—Siren's parting gift. Its silver seams caught the dawn like threads of comet dust. It didn't feel like armor, exactly. But it felt like a beginning.

The last time he stood here, he had been five years old and half-wild with fear, stumbling into a village that gave him silence and shelter, but never a name. Now he had both. Caelion. A name spoken by stars and reaffirmed by a mentor he hadn't expected to care for him.

He looked back once.

The hills were still cloaked in violet haze, soft and distant. He couldn't see the village anymore. But he could feel it. A quiet presence like footprints long faded but never quite gone.

He adjusted the straps of his satchel and stepped forward. The trail sighed under his boots.

By midday, the trees thinned. The sky opened like a curtain pulled back, and the world below spread wide—fields stitched together like patchwork, winding rivers, roads beaten pale by countless feet and wheels.

He passed his first travelers not long after. A merchant caravan clattered by, led by a pale horse and a woman with a sharp, sunburnt face. They didn't ask his name, just gave him a once-over and offered a nod. He returned it. That was all.

The road made no promises. But it didn't turn him away either.

The third night, it rained.

He found shelter beneath a half-collapsed barn at the edge of a broken fence. The roof leaked. The floor was all mud and rotted straw. But it was shelter.

He made a small light with his Star Dust Magic—just enough to see his fingers. The glimmer curled like a spark in the gloom, catching on the threads of his coat.

Caelion sat with his knees drawn up, listening to rain tap a hollow rhythm overhead.

"I'm really out here now," he whispered.

The stars didn't answer. But they didn't turn away either.

He fell asleep to the smell of wet wood and the comfort of something crackling inside him—quiet, warm, and growing.

He wandered for days.

Sometimes he followed roads. Sometimes rivers. Once, a hawk's shadow passed overhead and he followed it just to see where it went. It vanished into a grove of golden-barked trees. He didn't find the bird, but he found a field of flowers that shimmered under starlight, their petals giving off faint silver glows like his magic.

He stayed there that night. Practiced again.

A line of starlit dust arced from his fingertips, trailing like a comet through the grass. It flickered, bent, then snapped away. Imperfect. But better than before.

I'll keep burning.

A week into his journey, Caelion reached a small town nestled between three rivers. Traders passed through often, and there was a market square that bustled with movement—spices, metals, fabrics, and weapons gleamed under striped tents.

He kept his hood up. Not out of fear—just habit.

At one stall, a man with tattoos down both arms sold star maps.

"Looking for a constellation, kid?" the man said, raising an eyebrow as Caelion lingered.

"No," Caelion said. "I just like how they glow."

The man grinned. "Then you've got a good eye. These are etched with glowdust from Mt. Hakobe. Not cheap, mind."

Caelion gave a polite nod and moved on.

In another corner of the square, laughter burst from a tavern. Not the cruel kind, but warm and full, like a hearthfire shared among friends. He paused at the door. Something tugged at him.

Inside, a crowd had gathered around a wooden stage where a bard was tuning a lyre. A voice cut through the clamor—loud, unmistakable, and bright as a drumbeat.

"No way! He said that? What a moron!"

Caelion froze.

The voice belonged to a girl—blonde hair tied up in a high ponytail, her arms gesturing wildly as she laughed with a pair of merchants. A set of keys jingled faintly on her belt.

Lucy Heartfilia.

Caelion blinked. It couldn't be. But then again, it could. She wasn't famous yet. Not quite. But she was real. Flesh and breath, a flicker of canon threading its way through his new life.

He stepped back before she could see him and vanished into the alley shadows, his heart racing—not from fear, but from the sudden weight of it all.

They're real. All of them. I'm walking the same roads.

That night, he climbed to a cliff overlooking the rivers. A tree leaned out over the edge, its roots half-exposed, its branches creaking in the breeze.

He sat there, arms resting on his knees, watching the moon rise.

He didn't want to rush it—this journey. The stars had waited for him. He would wait for them too. Every quiet step. Every failed spell. Every breath.

There was time.

And far beyond the horizon, Fairy Tail waited like a constellation not yet reached—but drawing nearer with every passing night.

He closed his eyes, and the starlight flared faintly at his fingertips.

He smiled.