Chapter 89 - Gathering Fangs

Date: Late February X787

Location: Eastern Ridge — Raven Fang Encampment, Hidden Sector

The air was sharp with cold and the scent of burnt metal. No natural light touched the Raven Fang encampment. It was buried deep within the crags of the Eastern Ridge, shielded by folded terrain and cloaked enchantments too old to trace, too primal to counter without leaving a footprint.

At the camp's center stood a half-sunken stone altar, ringed with broken sigils and lined with smooth obsidian, harvested from one of the old vaults beneath Mount Kresta. From above, it might have looked like a ritual ground. But the truth was simpler.

This was a control point.

Inside the largest black tent—reinforced with smoke-treated cloth and silence wards—five figures gathered. All wore masks. Three were lieutenants, former dark mages who had survived Grimoire Heart's fall, Tartaros's collapse, and Ivan Dreyar's implosion.

But the one at the scrying basin wore no mask.

Vareth, leader of the restructured Raven Fang, stared into the black pool with unblinking eyes. Magic flickered across the surface: mages moving across Magnolia rooftops, leyline pulses activating, and most recently—her.

Teresa.

He watched her silhouette vanish into the forest, then turned to the projection glyphs that surrounded the basin. Each tracked mana thread from guild zones across Fiore. All converged faintly here. Subtle lines. Whispering threads.

"She's intercepted four calibration nodes," one lieutenant said, voice warped through a distortion charm.

"She'll collapse them," another muttered. "Just like before."

"No," Vareth said. His voice was calm, almost gentle. "She won't destroy them. She'll study them. Trace them. That's what she does. She always walks forward. She never runs."

"She's too dangerous to test," a third warned. "Let me dispatch ground units. Force confrontation before she closes the gap."

Vareth raised a hand.

"No. Not yet. Teresa isn't the problem. She's the measure."

Silence rippled.

He turned from the basin and approached a table covered in scrolls, maps, leyline charts, and fragments of vault cipher documents. One mark in red traced the newly revealed underlayers of Magnolia, uncovered by Teresa during her last mission.

"She uncovered the pathways faster than expected," Vareth continued. "Which means we adapt."

A scout burst in, muddy and out of breath.

"Report," Vareth said, not turning.

"Three guilds are shifting. Lamia Scale has watchers on the low ridges. Blue Pegasus increased river patrols. Even Sabertooth sent scouts into the underground vaults they ignored last year."

"And Fairy Tail?"

The scout hesitated. "Teresa hasn't returned since the Council ping. She's active on the southern trail. Alone."

"Good," Vareth said. "Keep her moving."

One lieutenant stepped forward. "You're stalling."

"No," Vareth replied, eyes gleaming. "I'm teaching. We don't confront her. Not until the glyphs are fully threaded. Let her pull the threads. Let her chase ghosts."

Another projection lit up—Fiore marked with seven dark points.

Vareth gestured. "We're nearly done with the node sequence. Once the final vault is bound, we'll trigger the perimeter collapse—not to destroy the guilds, but to erase their trust in the systems that protect them."

"And then?"

"Then," Vareth said, smiling faintly, "we show them it wasn't Teresa who failed them, but the Council who didn't deserve her."

Location: Fairy Tail Guildhall — Late Evening

The hall was quiet. Most members had turned in, save for Kinana wiping the counter and Macao nursing a bottle by the board. Romeo, asleep in a side chair, held a makeshift wand across his lap—an unconscious guard stance.

Macao looked up as Warren entered, holding a faintly glowing glyph slip.

"Report just came in," Warren said. "Sabertooth intercepted one of our runner threads. They didn't engage—just let us know they saw it."

"Meaning?" Macao asked.

"They're watching. But not talking."

Macao sighed. "And Teresa?"

"No recent word. Last confirmed near the lower eastern ruins." Warren hesitated. "Blue Pegasus sent a passive ping. Hibiki saw her. Didn't interfere."

Macao shook his head. "She'll come back when she's ready."

"Or not at all," Warren said softly.

Macao didn't reply. He just poured another drink.

Location: Unknown Roadside — That Same Night

Teresa sat on the edge of a weatherworn stone well. The forest around her was utterly silent. The moon hung high, casting sharp shadows. She had stopped walking hours ago—but not to rest.

Yoki moved beneath her skin in slow, deliberate ripples.

The glyphs she'd uncovered weren't random.

They were testing her.

Not with strength. With a pattern.

She exhaled.

No fear.

No doubt.

Only surgical calm.

From the woods behind her, a twig snapped.

She didn't move.

"Still tracking," a soft voice said. Familiar.

She turned her head.

Lyon stood beneath the trees, arms crossed, his Ice-Make cloak shimmering in the moonlight.

"You're not hiding your trail," he said.

"I'm not trying to."

He stepped closer, stopping five paces away. "Jura sent me. He thinks you'll walk too far without backup."

"He's right."

Lyon paused. "You know they're setting you up."

"Yes."

"And you're still going alone?"

"I don't believe in shared funerals," Teresa said.

Lyon's mouth twitched. "And if it's not yours?"

"Then I'll walk back."

Lyon's mouth quirked again. "You're colder than the mountain I trained on."

She stood.

"Go home, Lyon."

And she vanished into the night, leaving no echo.