Date: X791, July 7
Location: Crocus – City Square & Castle Ruins
Dawn crept into Crocus slowly, as if the sky itself was afraid to touch what was left of the city. The black of night bled into gray, then into the pale wash of morning light. It revealed a battlefield of broken towers, streets split open, and homes reduced to smoking piles of timber and stone.
Small fires still burned in alleyways, spitting smoke into the soft breeze. Somewhere in the distance, wood cracked as a building finally gave way. The deep, bone-rattling roars that had haunted the city for hours were gone. In their place came quieter sounds—murmured orders, the crunch of boots through debris, and the occasional groan of someone finding the strength to move again.
In the city's central square, the Eclipse Gate gave its last gasp. A shimmer of unstable magic flickered through the arch, then scattered into sparks. The great stone frame cracked apart, falling inward with a deep, final sigh.
Future Rogue was gone. The dragons—what remained of them—were already fading, their colossal shapes growing translucent, the edges of their wings dissolving into light. One by one, they vanished entirely, returning to a time long past.
Then, for the first time since the battle began, there was silence.
From doorways and shadows, civilians began to emerge. Their faces were pale, eyes wide and searching. Mothers held their children close; old men leaned heavily on canes or the arms of younger strangers.
The mages returned as well, limping, staggering, some carried by friends. Many were bruised and bloodied, clothes in tatters, weapons cracked or gone entirely. But they had survived.
And in the very center of the square, surrounded by ruin, Teresa stood.
Her pale wings folded slowly behind her, their light dimmed but not gone. Blood—dragon, beast, and human—marked her armor in streaks. Her Claymore was planted in the ground at her side, its silver edge still humming faintly. She didn't move, didn't speak.
Natsu came limping from the castle ruins, Lucy leaning heavily on him. The moment Lucy's gaze found Teresa, she slowed.
"She…" Lucy's voice was almost a whisper. "She's beautiful… and terrifying."
Natsu kept his eyes on the Valkyrie.
"She didn't fight for us," he said flatly. "She fought because that's what she does—cutting down anything in her way. Even dragons were just obstacles."
Erza stepped forward from the rubble, her armor dented, her breathing uneven. She watched Teresa in silence, her expression caught between awe and unease.
Gray emerged next, supporting Juvia with one arm. His lip was split, and blood dried on his chin. He followed their gaze.
"She's a monster," he said quietly, "but right now, she's our monster."
Above them, Mavis's spirit floated unseen, drifting like morning mist. Her eyes softened as she looked on.
"A blade without warmth is strong… but lonely," she thought. "She has chosen her path, but every path leaves shadows."
The sunlight crept further into the square. Teresa lifted her head slightly, scanning what was left of the battlefield.
Around the edges of the plaza, whispers began to spread, carried from one wounded survivor to another:
"Did you see her wings?"
"She's not human."
"An angel from the heavens."
"A demon dressed in light."
Names began to stick—Silver-Eyed Valkyrie. Pale-Winged Angel. Fiore's White Death.
Teresa heard them all. None of them mattered.
On the far side of the square, Romeo leaned against a wall, fresh bandages crisscrossing his arms and legs. His sword lay across his lap, the once-bright flames now dim embers. He scanned the crowd until he found her.
She stood exactly as he remembered in battle: calm, unshaken, untouchable. But he also remembered something no one else here seemed to notice—a tiny, fleeting warmth, a smile that had appeared once and been gone just as quickly.
"You didn't come to save us," he murmured to himself. "But you still cleared the way."
He pushed himself upright, using his sword for balance. Every step was a battle of its own, but he kept going—across the cracked stones, past healers tending to the wounded—until he stood beside her.
Up close, the silver in her eyes was sharper than steel.
"You're leaving," he said. It wasn't a question.
For a moment, she said nothing. Her gaze shifted to the ruined skyline, then to the empty place where the Eclipse Gate had stood.
When she spoke, her voice was as cold and precise as her blade.
"The echoes are loud here. You, your guild… You cling to warmth as if it can hold back death."
Romeo let out a tired laugh.
"Maybe it can. Maybe that's what keeps us fighting. That's what makes us alive."
She tilted her head slightly, studying him.
"Strength is cutting through. Surviving. Ending. Warmth led to my death once. I won't let it dull my edge again."
Romeo lifted his sword—not as a threat, but pointing toward the rising sun behind her.
"Then I'll keep fighting to prove you wrong. Even if it takes my whole life."
For a heartbeat, her expression shifted—not a smile, but something close, like the shadow of one.
"Echoes… foolish noise."
He lowered the blade.
"Maybe. But I'll keep making it."
They stood there in silence. Fires crackled in the distance. A few feathers from her wings drifted to the stones between them.
High above, Mavis watched the two, a flicker of hope in her ghostly face.
"This boy… perhaps he can reach her. Someday."
Without warning, Teresa turned. Her wings opened in a single, sharp motion, scattering droplets of blood into the light. She leapt skyward, rising above the square until her figure blurred in the smoke.
Romeo watched until she vanished.
Behind him, the mages were gathering again. Healers worked quickly, calling out for water, splints, and clean bandages. Lucy hurried over, relief softening her tired face.
"Romeo! Are you hurt?"
He didn't answer right away. His eyes lingered on the sky, searching for a trace of her.
Finally, he spoke.
"I'll stand beside her one day. Not behind. Besides."
Lucy blinked, unsure if she'd heard him right. She gave a small, uncertain nod and rested a hand on his shoulder.
The wind shifted, carrying the smell of smoke and the faint, impossible scent of feathers. Somewhere far above, the Valkyrie flew into the sunlit sky, leaving only whispers and the cold kiss of dawn in her wake.