The table was set, the steam from the various dishes rising into the cooling afternoon air. Despite the inviting scent of the feast, a heavy tension lingered over the group. Two chairs remained empty, and the mystery of who would fill them gnawed at Cassia.
She glanced at the vacant seats, then at the sisters across from her. Who else lives here? she wondered. Are they like these two girls, or are they more like the woman sitting across from the cleric?
Cassia risked a quick look at Lunara. The veiled woman sat perfectly still, her hands folded neatly on her lap. Suddenly, Lunara tilted her head. A small, knowing smile played on her lips—an expression that made Cassia look away immediately. It was as if Lunara had heard her thoughts and found them entertaining.
"Just what kind of people live here?" Cassia whispered to herself, her fingers tracing the edge of the wooden table.
She turned her attention back to Natsu. He seemed to be the only one truly at ease. Beside him, the cleric was a mess, his face slick with sweat as his lips moved in a silent, frantic prayer.
Natsu cleared his throat, drawing everyone's eyes.
"I think I've made you all wait long enough," Natsu said, his voice casual. "Our remaining guests will get here when they get here, but there's no reason for the rest of you to go hungry. The food is getting cold. Please, dig in."
For a moment, no one moved. The soldiers looked at Cassia, waiting for a signal. Then, Lunara reached out and calmly placed a serving of meat on her plate. Tanya and Anyael followed her lead, their movements quiet and graceful.
The silence was broken by a long, low grumble.
Every head turned toward Lorie. The mage's face turned a deep shade of red as she tried to pull her hood further over her head. Natsu didn't mock her; instead, he let out a soft, genuine giggle.
"Miss Lorie, please eat," Natsu said, offering her a warm smile. "I cooked all of this myself. I promise it's edible."
Lorie looked up, meeting his gaze. The sincerity in his eyes seemed to settle her nerves. "O-okay. Thank you, Sir Natsu. You've been very kind."
She reached for a nearby dish that had been catching her eye. It was a square-cut portion of layered pasta, thick with a rich red sauce and melted cheese. Beside it lay a basket of toasted bread that smelled strongly of herbs and butter.
"Sir Natsu, what is this called?" Lorie asked, hovering her fork over the plate.
Natsu's expression lit up. "I thought you'd never ask. That's lasagna. And the bread next to it is garlic bread. They're meant to go together. If you want the full experience, try dipping the bread into the sauce."
Lorie stared at him, looking as though he were reciting a foreign spell. "L-lasagna? Garlic... bread?"
"Just try it," Natsu encouraged.
Lorie took a cautious bite. For a second, she went completely still. Cassia watched her closely, concerned that the food might be drugged or poisoned, but then she saw a tear roll down Lorie's cheek.
Without another word, the mage began to eat with a ferocity that stunned her comrades. She tore a piece of the garlic bread and dipped it into the sauce as instructed, letting out a small squeal of delight.
Seeing their mage eat so enthusiastically broke the final dam of hesitation. The ranger and the four soldiers, ignoring the cleric's frantic whispering, reached for the platters. The sound of clinking silverware and quiet murmurs of appreciation soon replaced the uneasy silence of the farm.
The feast was in full swing. The table, once a source of dread, had become a chaotic display of relief and hunger.
The ranger leaned back in his chair, staring into a goblet filled with a bright yellow liquid. A shadow maid had poured it for him moments ago, the glass beaded with condensation. He took a long draft, his eyes widening as he slammed the cup onto the wood.
"By the gods," he breathed, wiping his mouth. "It's cold. Sweeter than honey but... sharp. It hits the spot."
Nearby, the four soldiers were eating with a desperation that suggested they expected the food to vanish at any moment. They bounced between dishes, their plates a messy mountain of flavors they couldn't name. Even Lorie was gone, her world narrowed down to the layers of her lasagna. She ate with a focused intensity, her earlier terror replaced by pure, culinary bliss.
But two people remained apart from the celebration.
Natsu leaned toward the right, his eyes settling on the woman beside him. "Miss Ghast?" he asked softly. "You haven't touched a thing. Is there something wrong with the spread?"
Cassia turned to him, her posture rigid. She looked at his face, searching for a hidden edge, a glimmer of the "Overlord" Lunara had described. Instead, she found only earnest concern.
How can he do this? she asked herself. He has a terrifying authority, yet he acts like this is nothing more than a neighborhood dinner.
Her mind raced through tactical possibilities. Was the food a medium for an illusion? Were they already dead, their souls being slowly digested by the forest's influence? She tried to find a logical explanation for the peace of the farm, but the more she looked at Natsu, the less sense the world made. She opened her mouth to provide a professional excuse, but her throat felt dry.
"Ah... I, uhm," Cassia stammered.
Natsu tilted his head, his expression shifting to one of deep empathy. "Are you okay? I'd get it if Lunara is making you uneasy. To be honest, she even catches me off guard sometimes."
He glanced across the table at the cleric. The man was a ghost of himself, his skin clammy and his hands shaking so hard that water sloshed out of his glass every time he tried to drink.
"Your friend beside her looks like he's having a rough time, too," Natsu added, his voice dropping to a low, serious register. "Just let me know if there's an issue—the food, the seating, anything. I don't want anyone being miserable at my table. I'll go check on your companion for a second."
He stood up, the chair scraping softly against the grass.
Cassia watched him go, her confusion only deepening. She couldn't get a read on him. He was a void in her senses, an anomaly in her experience. Lunara was an enigma of power, and the maids were clockwork shadows, but Natsu was the most dangerous of all because he felt... human.
She shifted her gaze toward Tanya and Anyael. They were the only ones who felt real to her now. They were hiding something, a connection to her men that went beyond simple hospitality. She gripped her fork, her knuckles white, and finally took a small, hesitant bite of the meat on her plate.
It was delicious. And that, more than anything else, terrified her.
Cassia stared at her plate for a heartbeat longer, the flavors still blooming on her tongue. It was a level of culinary mastery that didn't belong in a cabin in the woods—let alone in a place where nothing was supposed to grow.
She looked at her group. The soldiers were practically shoveling food into their mouths, their earlier terror replaced by a primal need to satisfy their hunger. Lorie was already reaching for a second helping of the lasagna, her eyes closed in a moment of genuine peace.
If this was a trap, it was the most elaborate and pleasant one Cassia had ever encountered.
She set her fork down for a moment and took a slow, deep breath. Her shoulders, which had been locked in a rigid line since they entered No Man's Land, finally began to drop. The knot in her stomach didn't disappear, but it loosened just enough for her to admit defeat.
If this is where I die, then so be it, she told herself, a flicker of dark humor crossing her mind. At least I'm eating good food.
She picked up her utensils again, no longer hesitating. She took a larger cut of the meat, followed by a spoonful of a creamy potato dish that smelled of garlic and butter. The tension that had been her constant companion for days finally started to bleed away, replaced by the simple, grounding reality of a hot meal.
Natsu, who had been watching her out of the corner of his eye, noticed the shift. He didn't say anything, but he gave her a small, approving nod before turning back to the cleric, who was still struggling to hold a spoon.
The dinner continued in a rhythmic cacophony of clinking silverware and the scraping of plates. The ranger laughed at something one of the soldiers said, his mouth half-full of bread. Lorie let out another satisfied sigh, leaning back briefly to catch her breath before diving back in.
To a passerby, it would have looked like a normal, rowdy gathering of travelers. But beneath the surface, the air was still charged with a quiet, waiting energy.
The plates were being emptied, and the initial hunger was being sated, but the real conversation hadn't truly started yet. The "guests" were still just visitors in a land they didn't understand, eating at the table of a man who claimed to be a farmer while shadows waited on him hand and foot.
As the sun dipped lower, casting long, orange shadows across the table, the clinking of forks slowed. The silence of the forest seemed to draw a little closer, as if the woods themselves were leaning in to hear what would happen next.