Fairy Tail: Beneath a Falling Star

Chapter 12 – Whispers Beneath the Canopy

Year X782

The forest path narrowed into a tunnel of green and gold, where light filtered through ancient branches like the scattered breath of heaven. Caelion moved slowly, his boots quiet against the soil. Days had passed since he'd last heard Siren's voice. The silence felt larger now—heavier—but it no longer scared him.

He had left the road behind after a narrow, nameless town where the people smiled politely but said little. There was a haunted way to their glances, as if they lived with the ghosts of better days. A crooked old man offered him bread in exchange for sweeping a stable. A girl no older than ten asked if the shimmer in his coat was real magic.

He'd answered gently. A trick of the thread, nothing more.

The truth was harder to explain.

Star Dust Magic had grown steadier under Siren's guidance, though still delicate. Caelion could now form small spheres that hovered for minutes instead of seconds. He could light a trail for himself in the dark or trick a wandering animal into leaving him be. But his magic remained subtle—soft, like wind on water.

It didn't need to be loud.

He wandered deeper into the woods that morning, following the notes of a river he'd heard the night before. It was supposed to flow east—toward the coast, toward the world. But somewhere along the way, the forest took him instead.

Not lost. Just… diverted.

By noon, the trees had changed. The trunks thickened, roots curled high above the ground, and thick moss hung from branches like green beards. He climbed a hill crowned by a half-fallen ruin—stone wrapped in ivy, a broken archway standing like a tooth against the sun.

He sat beneath it and unpacked a small meal: salted nuts, a bruised apple, and water from a river flask. Siren's coat shimmered faintly in the sunlight, casting faint silver sparkles along his shoulders.

After eating, he stretched out and stared at the clouds.

For a while, he thought of nothing. Just the quiet. Just the world.

Then something flickered behind his eyes.

A whisper. A tug.

He sat up.

The hill felt strange beneath him—tingling, like static. He ran his fingers over the stone. It was warm. Warmer than it should've been. His magic sparked faintly at his fingertips, reacting to something.

He let it drift.

Tiny lights curled from his palms, flickering like soft fireflies. They hovered above the stone and then—unexpectedly—arched upward, forming a small constellation.

Four lights. Then five. A slow circle.

They pulsed.

Not yours, the feeling said. But known.

Caelion narrowed his eyes. The light was mimicking something. A memory in the land. Echoes of older magic, older times. Starlight stirred faintly inside him, unbidden, and he quickly suppressed it.

No.

Not yet.

He focused on the dust. The smaller, gentler light. The spell broke apart, falling back into harmless glitter that faded into the wind.

He stood, brushing dirt from his coat, and started down the hill again.

The forest deepened. And then he heard a voice.

Not divine. Not distant.

Human.

"—I said we don't have any left!"

A man's voice. Sharp. Frustrated.

"Liar," came another voice, thinner and crueler. "Check again, old man."

Caelion moved closer, keeping low.

Through the underbrush, he saw them—two men in patched armor harassing a weathered traveler beside a wagon. The older man clutched his side, blood staining his sleeve. One of the bandits shoved him against the cart.

"Coin, food, or teeth," the armored one growled. "Your pick."

Caelion hesitated. He had no reason to interfere. He didn't know them. Didn't owe them.

But something gnawed at his chest.

He stepped out.

The leaves rustled behind him. All three turned.

The bandits laughed when they saw him.

"Go back to whatever stump you crawled from, boy," the taller one said.

Caelion said nothing. His eyes stayed on the old man.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

The old man didn't answer—just stared at him in disbelief.

The shorter bandit unsheathed a crooked blade. "Last warning."

Caelion raised a hand.

Light shimmered at his palm, then burst outward in a soft pulse—bright, glittering, and silent.

The bandits blinked. "The hell—?"

He took a step forward.

The light clustered at his feet now, forming trails that spiraled into star shapes beneath the moss. His control was shaky—too emotional, too fast—but it was enough.

"Get lost," he said quietly.

The taller bandit snarled, lunging.

Caelion moved.

He spun, swept his hand across the air, and the dust followed. A wave of pale light blinded the attacker. The man staggered, yelping, his blade falling from numb fingers.

The other turned to flee. Caelion let him.

The one who'd charged lay groaning, clutching his eyes.

The old man still hadn't moved.

Caelion knelt beside him. "Can you walk?"

"…I think so."

"Then we should go. Before he recovers."

The old man nodded and allowed Caelion to guide him away from the wagon. They made it down a narrow path, where the trees grew thick and the light was dim.

After a few minutes, the man leaned against a tree, catching his breath.

"You… you saved me."

"I suppose I did."

"That was magic, wasn't it?"

Caelion nodded.

"Not the usual kind."

"No," he admitted. "It's Star Dust Magic."

The old man's eyes widened faintly. "Haven't heard of that one."

"Not many have."

Silence passed between them, then the man asked, "Where are you headed?"

"I'm not sure yet. I just know I'm walking east."

The man chuckled softly. "Then you're in for a long road."

"I hope so."

The man looked at him carefully, then reached into his coat and pulled something out—a folded bit of parchment, worn at the edges.

"If you're going east, there's a village just beyond the ridge. Good people. Not rich, but decent. Show them this. They'll feed you, maybe even give you a place to stay the night."

Caelion took it, surprised.

"Why help me?"

"You helped me first. Seems fair."

Caelion bowed his head. "Thank you."

They parted ways shortly after. The stars were rising when he reached the edge of the forest. A small village twinkled in the distance.

But before he descended, he looked up.

The sky was open again—bright with constellations. And somewhere far above, hidden behind all the mortal stardust, something older watched in silence.

He wasn't ready for it.

But he was closer.