Sold to a dark guild for money, Amethyst Fairy held no knowledge about the concept of family. Yet, when she meets her soulmates, she finds a home in their presence, surrounded by endless warmth. But when they disappear for seven years, what will hap...
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"W-WHAT DO YOU MEAN they're gone?"
Dear ol' Amethyst had no clue what had happened. Her eyes moistened with tears.
"I'm sorry, Amethyst." Bisca stared at the young girl, grief piling in her chest. The horrors of the solemn news still had yet to settle. Their guildmates were all gone, annihilated by the roar of a mighty, treacherous dragon. Strands of green hair swished through the air as Bisca fell to her knees, drawing Amethyst into her arms. She held her close to her chest. Tears rolled down her cheeks like an open flood. "I'm so sorry."
The warmth around her slowly decayed. The sun's light dimmed as a consequence.
Amethyst stared up at the sky, everlasting in its constant presence.
Her arms were stationed by her body, and tiny fingers trembled. Like the silence before a storm, the stillness that blankets the world before a downpour, Amethyst's beating heart stopped. Metaphorically. Not literally. There wouldn't be a story otherwise.
"Where did they go?" she questioned. Her senses were filled with the saltiness of the sea, and her eyes stung at the strength of the smell. At least, that's what she assumed. Why else would tears threaten to surface?
You see, the situation wasn't processing in Amethyst's mind. Trauma filled her body; it was engraved into her bones and ridiculed her brain's capacity for anything mature.
Bisca sobbed.
Why did this have to happen?
Why them?
"I'm sorry—"
"Stop apologising."
Amethyst's voice sliced through the air. Her guildmates— her family, turned towards her. Their eyes were filled with pity and grief.
Silence blanketed their shoulders. The remaining Fairy Tail members stood on the dock; the news had reached them through the Magic Council's army, the Rune Knights. Lahar stood with a blank expression on his face. He refused to show emotions at a time like this. And yet, as his attention diverted to the side, he couldn't help but notice how many of the mages before them focused on a girl no older than ten. She wore a yellow dress with puffy sleeves— a growing trend for children's attire. A red ribbon sat in her hair, pulling dark strands away from her face.
Lahar stared at her. He analysed her actions and wondered what was special about that particular child. She looked like every other one, youthful, naive. Nothing important, he deduced. Probably some family member.
Lahar turned his back; he had more important matters to address. The mages, however, thought otherwise. They shared anxious glances with one another. Amethyst's control over her emotions was already bad enough as it was. She struggled to grasp the power that simmered under her veins at times, and her soulmates were the only ones who could subdue the terror that reigned in the tense, thickening and almost suffocating atmosphere.
