Mavis stood quietly at the railing, gazing out over the sea. A long-forgotten sense of peace stirred in her heart, and her thoughts drifted back to the night before.
She had been sitting on a stone nearby, her eyes filled with longing and gentle concern as she listened to August speak. He sat across from her, voice low and steady, recounting his life story.
He spoke of his birth, his fateful encounter with Zeref, the meaning behind his name, and the many years he had spent in the Alvarez Empire. Then he told her why he had come to Fiore, because he wanted to see the guild she had once founded with her own hands. And finally, he spoke of Lyla, and the year they had traveled together.
August said nothing of the pain he endured after being abandoned by Precht. But Mavis understood. She knew that part of his life had likely been filled with nothing but hardship.
Eventually, August admitted the real reason he had come to Tenrou Island, it was because of Lyla.
Mavis had noticed something strange in the way he said the boy's name and pressed for more. August, though reluctant at first, explained everything.
August had planned to leave. But Lyla's behavior had unsettled him. The boy seemed oddly anxious, almost as if he were trying to push August toward something. The book Lyla had brought back felt like more than a coincidence; his offhand comments carried the weight of intentional hints. August already knew that Mavis's spirit lingered on the island. But without Lyla, he never would have come.
August had his suspicions for a while. And over time, four key signs began to trouble him:
1st. Lyla's reaction to August's name.
When they first met, Lyla's memory was supposedly fragmented, yet he flinched at hearing August's name. He tried to cover it up, but August noticed, and began watching him more closely.
2nd. Lyla's strange composure.
When August invited him to travel together, Lyla didn't react like a normal child. Even with his memories a blur, he was eerily calm, perhaps out of gratitude, but it felt too calculated, too mature.
3rd. His behavioral oddities.
Over the past year, Lyla often displayed glimpses of unnatural maturity. Most notably, when they sought out a healing mage to recover Lyla's memories, the boy barely seemed to care whether he succeeded.
4th. The way he understood magic.
Lyla had limited knowledge of geography, countries, or guilds, but when it came to magic, he absorbed everything August taught him with uncanny speed. It was like he had been born to use magic… and yet knew little of the world it belonged to.
In short: amnesia, but with magical fluency. A sense of déjà vu when hearing his name. A soul that felt displaced from its body. Maturity beyond his years. All signs pointed to one conclusion:
Lyla's soul didn't belong to this world.
August didn't know how the soul ended up in Lyla's body. Nor could he detect its exact origin. But the more he pondered it, the more the evidence aligned with a single possibility, Lyla was not from this world.
Mavis agreed.
She'd heard whispers of parallel worlds, though she lacked concrete knowledge, worlds like Edolas, and countless others beyond imagination.
If this theory held, then perhaps Lyla came from a world where he had no magic. A parallel reality where the events of this world were already known, where Mavis and August had already reunited, and Lyla had somehow been privy to it all.
Or perhaps, Mavis mused, Lyla came from a future version of this world. One where history had already played out, and he was merely retracing its steps.
In the end, both August and Mavis chose not to bring the matter up again.
Whatever Lyla's origin, he wasn't a threat. In fact, it was thanks to him that they were reunited. That alone was enough.
So, together, they sealed the memory of their suspicions in their minds, locked away by August's magic.
If Lyla ever found out what they'd guessed, he might be impressed by the sheer leap of logic. But then again, people rarely imagine the possibility that they themselves might be part of a story, let alone a world written in ink.
Over time, Mavis came to know Lyla better. And the more she saw, the more convinced she became.
That guess… might not be wrong after all.
"You're a good child, Lyla," Mavis said suddenly, glancing over with a warm smile.
"Huh? W-What are you saying, First?" Lyla fumbled to pack away his things, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment.
"Thank you for spending the day with me."
"Heh, you're too polite. As long as you had fun, that's what matters."
"I did. But now I want to head back, I still have some books to read!" At the mention of reading, Mavis's eyes gleamed with excitement.
"Sure thing."
Lyla followed behind her leisurely steps, whispering into his coat pocket as he walked.
Inside, hidden snugly in the outer pocket, Jerry the mouse peeked out and gave him a thumbs-up. Lyla grinned in satisfaction before dispelling the conjured mouse.
Back at the inn, Mavis bid him goodnight and reminded him to rest well. Then she practically ran off to her room to continue reading.
Lyla replied with a wave, then walked into his own room. Sitting at his desk, he pulled out his journal and camera, flipping the diary open to record the day's events.
After writing, he pulled out a stack of photos, some of Mavis and August together. Despite how casually August had left, he'd still sent a mental note before disappearing: "Send me a copy of the photo later."
Typical.
The rest of the photos were from today's outing with Mavis:
< Her chatting with the magic shopkeeper.
< Her trying food.
< Her browsing market stalls with bright eyes.
But two photos in particular caught his eye.
One was of Mavis and August embracing. The other showed Mavis at night, standing by the railing, looking out at the sea, her silhouette bathed in moonlight.
Lyla carefully set those two aside. Tomorrow, he'd buy frames for them.
In the room next door, Mavis's bedside lamp cast a soft glow. She lay curled under the blanket, wearing a loose pajama gown, the corner of her open book resting near her pillow. She had drifted off mid-sentence.
The room was quiet, the air still. Only her gentle breathing and the rustling of leaves outside could be heard.
Lying in his own bed, Lyla stared at the ceiling.
He remembered the way August had thanked him, earnestly, as if that moment carried weight Lyla couldn't quite measure.
I may have lived two lives, he thought, but I've only existed for a little over twenty years. From the moment I agreed to travel with him… I was bound to slip up eventually.
And he had.
Because he trusted August.
He trusted him the way someone might trust a character they'd long admired, someone whose every decision, every sorrow, every kindness, was already known.
That unconscious trust… was what made him vulnerable.
And August saw right through it.
<150 P.S = 1 Extra Chapter>