The forest was too quiet.
Macao Conbolt sensed it long before he saw anything. A subtle wrongness hung in the air—no birds, insects, or rustling of small creatures in the underbrush. Even the wind seemed hesitant to stir the leaves.
Romeo, walking a few steps behind, whispered, "Dad… do you feel it too?"
Macao nodded without taking his eyes off the narrowing trail ahead. "Stay close, son."
Strange reports had reached Magnolia earlier that day. Something—or someone—had been frightening the wildlife near the northern cliffs. Several trees were uprooted, claw marks scarred stone, and whole packs of animals had fled the area. No confirmed sightings yet, but Macao knew better than to dismiss such signs lightly. Now, standing in the oppressive silence, every instinct screamed caution.
They crested a small hill, and there—in the center of a clearing—stood a lone figure.
A woman.
She did not move or react to their sudden appearance. She simply stood beneath the fading light, framed by towering pines like a statue carved from pale ivory.
Macao immediately noted her armor: smooth silver plating hugged her frame, perfectly fitted without excess decoration. Broad pauldrons curved outward over her shoulders, segmented gauntlets protected her arms, and armored boots reached nearly to her knees. Draped across her back was a white cloak, falling straight to the backs of her legs—pristine, untouched by dirt or wear despite her surroundings. Her long, pale blonde hair flowed gently in the evening breeze, almost metallic in its luster.
But it was her eyes that struck Macao most: silver, cold, unblinking. Eyes that watched without alarm, without aggression—but with quiet, unsettling confidence, as though she had measured everything about them in a single glance.
The faintest smile touched her lips. Not friendly. Not mocking. Simply... there.
Macao instinctively raised an arm, easing Romeo behind him.
"Who are you?" he called out, voice steady.
The woman tilted her head slightly, studying him for several heartbeats before answering. Her voice was soft and calm, each word weighed and precise.
"You speak my language."
Macao frowned slightly at her phrasing. "We do. I'm Macao. This is my son, Romeo. We're from Fairy Tail."
The woman's gaze flickered, processing the unfamiliar name. "Fairy Tail..." She repeated it quietly, as though testing the shape of it in her mouth.
Romeo peeked out from behind his father. "It's a guild!" he offered helpfully. "We help people."
Her eyes shifted briefly to him. "A guild," she repeated, her voice remaining neutral. A hint of understanding crossed her expression. "A collective of warriors?"
"That's one way to put it," Macao said carefully. "Are you lost? Do you need help?"
For a moment, she didn't answer. Instead, she glanced skyward, as if confirming some invisible detail. Then, softly: "This world is not my own. I awoke here without memory of crossing. The land... is unfamiliar."
Macao's stomach tightened. Another world?
"Look, you don't seem hostile," he continued. "If you need a safe place to rest, we can offer it."
"You help strangers?"
"That's what Fairy Tail does," Romeo said brightly.
The woman paused, considering. Then—with that same faint, unreadable smile—she nodded. "I accept your offer."
Macao exhaled softly. "Good. What should we call you?"
The answer came instantly. "Teresa."
Short. Final.
"All right, Teresa. Let's get you back to town."
With graceful precision, she adjusted the long Claymore sword resting behind her back, partially concealed beneath her cloak. The weapon was large but not oversized by Earthland standards—a broad, double-edged blade, nearly as tall as its wielder, perfectly balanced for both cutting power and control. She carried it with effortless familiarity.
As they began walking, Macao glanced sideways at her.
"Not to pry," he said cautiously, "but that armor of yours... I've never seen craftsmanship like it."
"It is standard for my order," Teresa replied. "We were created to hunt monsters."
"Monsters?" Romeo asked. "Like dragons? Vulcans?"
"Not dragons," she said softly. "Creatures worse than any dragon you've known."
Her calm tone, untouched by fear or bravado, made Macao's skin prickle. She didn't speak in metaphors. She spoke from experience.
The three continued through the quiet forest, the last rays of sunlight streaking between the trees. As they emerged from the dense woods and Magnolia's skyline revealed itself ahead, Macao risked another glance.
She walked with the easy grace of someone who was never off balance, her gaze scanning without betraying tension. Calm. Detached. Dangerous.
But not reckless.
As they neared the outskirts of town, Macao lowered his voice. "Just so you know... we're a bit understaffed right now. Our strongest members are away on a long mission. So... it's mostly folks like me holding things together."
"That explains the absence of high-level energy signatures," Teresa replied softly.
Macao blinked. "You can sense magic power?"
"In a way," she answered. "The flow of energy here is... full. Alive. Your world breathes differently than mine."
He couldn't help but shiver slightly at her words. She spoke like an ancient observer describing an entirely different dimension.