Chapter 38: The Moon's Lament
Lucy's POV: An Island of Sorrows
The moment Lucy's boots sank into the black sand of Galuna Island, she knew something was profoundly wrong. It wasn't just the unnatural chill that clung to the humid air or the strange, violet hue of the sky. It was a feeling, a deep thrum of sorrow that seemed to emanate from the very soil beneath her feet. Her psychic senses, which had been a chaotic mess of thoughts and emotions in the port, were now filled with a single, overwhelming, and ancient sadness. It was so potent it made her want to sit down and cry for reasons she couldn't comprehend.
"Alright, I'm back!" Natsu yelled, leaping from the dinghy and planting his feet firmly on the ground. He took a deep, dramatic breath. "Sweet, sweet, non-moving land! I'm never getting on a boat again!"
"You say that every time, Natsu," Happy chirped, landing on his head.
"This time I mean it!" Natsu declared. He then turned to the jungle and punched the nearest tree, a gnarled thing with bark that shimmered like oil on water. "Take that, you stupid, wobbly ocean!" The tree shuddered, and a shower of glowing, blue spores rained down on him.
"Natsu, you're covered in glowing stuff!" Happy pointed out.
"Awesome! Now I'm a fire-breathing nightlight!"
Lucy watched them, a small smile touching her lips despite the oppressive atmosphere. Their simple-minded absurdity was a small, warm shield against the island's chilling grief. She needed that shield. As they ventured into the jungle, the feeling intensified. The place was a botanical nightmare. Plants with leaves like obsidian razors retracted as they passed. Fungi pulsed with a sickly purple light, in time with the moon that was now rising above the canopy. For Lucy, it was a sensory hell. She could feel the primal, mindless hunger of the carnivorous plants, the low-level fear of the unseen nocturnal creatures hiding from them, and underneath it all, that constant, weeping sorrow.
It's like the whole island is crying, she thought, rubbing her temples. What happened here?
"The village scent is this way!" Natsu announced, his dragon nose leading the way with unerring accuracy. "Smells like… coconuts and fear."
His words sent a shiver down Lucy's spine. He was right. As they drew closer, the general sadness of the island began to resolve into sharp, distinct spikes of human terror. It was so intense that she felt a phantom tightness in her own chest, her heart rate quickening in sympathy. When they finally broke through the trees into a clearing, she saw the source.
The village was in a state of pure panic. People were running in every direction, their faces masks of sheer terror. They weren't running from a monster; they were running from the sky. The massive purple moon hung directly above them, looking close enough to touch, and it seemed to cast a pall of dread over everything.
An old man with a long white beard saw them and stumbled forward, his eyes wild with a desperate hope. "Wizards!" he cried, his voice cracking. He grabbed Natsu's vest, his hands trembling. "Thank the heavens! You must help us! Please, you have to destroy the moon!"
Lucy stared, bewildered. Destroy the moon? It was the plea of a terrified child, not a rational adult. Before she could even process the impossible request, a woman nearby let out a piercing scream. Lucy's head snapped towards the sound, and her blood ran cold.
The woman's body was twisting. Her bones were cracking and resetting with audible snaps, her skin stretching and hardening into a coarse, demonic hide. She wasn't just screaming in fear; she was screaming in agony. Lucy felt a psychic backlash of that pain—a phantom sensation of her own limbs being broken and forcibly reshaped. She gasped, stumbling back, her hand flying to her mouth. This wasn't just a transformation; it was torture.
Gray's POV: A Past Reflected
Gray watched the scene with a cold, detached focus, his mind automatically analyzing the threat. But as the villagers began to transform all around them, that detachment began to crack. The sounds—the wet, tearing noises and the snapping of bone—were sickening. The sight was worse. These people were contorting into monstrous parodies of themselves, sprouting horns and claws, their humanity melting away in a crucible of pain.
A dark, cold memory stirred in the back of his mind. Snow falling on a burning city. The roar of a true demon. Deliora.
He clenched his fists, a thin layer of frost creeping over his knuckles. This was different. These… things… were not Deliora. They were weak, clumsy, and pathetic. One of them, a newly transformed man with lopsided horns, stumbled towards them, not with aggression, but with the terrified gait of a newborn fawn. He tripped over his own clawed feet and fell in a heap, sobbing.
They're not monsters, Gray realized, his battle stance relaxing. They're victims. But the sight of humans turning into demons, no matter how weak, scraped at a wound in his soul he thought had long since scarred over. It was a bitter reminder of the life he'd lost, of the master he'd failed.
"What is this?" Erza wondered aloud, her brow furrowed. She had appeared at the port just as they were leaving, her expression one of grim duty. Now, that duty was clouded with confusion. "A curse that transforms its victims into pathetic, terrified monsters? It makes no sense."
It was then that a cheerful, childlike voice echoed clearly in their minds, a stark contrast to the horror around them.
Gray flinched, startled. He glanced at his shoulder, where the faint, invisible shimmer of Mew resided. He was still not used to the ghost-cat using his head as a personal walkie-talkie.
"Whoa! Mew, you can talk in our heads now?" Natsu exclaimed aloud, looking around wildly.
Gray's mind raced, processing the information. Original state?
The pieces clicked into place with horrifying clarity. The villagers weren't humans being turned into demons. They were demons who had somehow become human, and this ritual was dragging them back to a nature they no longer remembered. The curse wasn't the transformation; it was the forgetting.
"So, if we stop the ritual," Gray said aloud, his voice low and steady, "they'll stay human, and more importantly, they'll keep their memories. That's what they're asking for, even if they don't know it."
As he spoke, he felt it. A distinct, unnatural cold that cut through the humid jungle air. It was different from his own ice—it was a dead, stagnant cold, pulsing in time with the purple moon. It was coming from deeper in the jungle. It was the source.
"Alright then!" Natsu's voice was quiet, but it burned with a cold fury Gray had never heard from him before. "There's no curse to break. There are just some bad guys who are hurting these people." He sniffed the air, his senses locking onto the same trail of cold Gray had felt. "That way." He turned to his team, his eyes blazing with a righteous fire. "Let's go."
#Join my [email protected]/Eros_Storge and get access to advanced chapters early