From his central seat, the towering magical avatar of Chairman Sean Crawford inclined its head. His deep, echoing voice carried effortlessly through the chamber.
"Erza Scarlet. Until further deliberation, you will remain in the Council's custody. Frogman attendant—have her escorted to the holding cells."
The command lingered like a verdict carved into stone.
A frogman in uniform immediately stepped forward and saluted. "Understood, Chairman."
As the echo of his voice faded, the vast circular chamber began to dim. The glowing runes carved into the marble walls flickered, their light softening as the session's magic dispersed. One by one, the spectral projections of the absent council members flickered and vanished, their forms unraveling into wisps of silver mist that drifted upward before disappearing.
Only two of the Ten were physically present within Fiore: Siegrain, leaning idly against the chamber's railing with that same faint smirk, and Ultear, seated near the radiant Council crest, posture immaculate, eyes unreadable.
The silence that followed was heavy — a silence of judgment, not peace.
Then Ultear rose, her movements fluid, deliberate. The soft rustle of her robes drew every remaining gaze. "There's no need for that," she said, her voice calm but edged with quiet authority. "I'll take her there myself."
The frogman hesitated mid-step. Ultear paid him no mind. Without a word, she descended from the dais, her heels clicking softly against the marble as she approached Erza. Her eyes softened, just slightly.
"Come with me," she said simply.
Her tone carried no malice—only quiet authority. Erza hesitated, then nodded once and followed her from the chamber. The heavy doors closed behind them with a dull echo that seemed to swallow the noise of the world.
Their footsteps resonated down the long corridor of the Council's halls, gilded light spilling through the tall arched windows, painting them in gold and shadow.
After a while, Erza finally spoke. "Why are you being so kind to me, Councillor Ultear?"
Ultear smiled faintly, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear in an absent, almost flirtatious gesture. "Kind? I wouldn't say that. I simply felt sorry for you. It would be inconvenient, wouldn't it, to spend the night in a cold cell for something you didn't do?"
Erza blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected sympathy. "I see… Thank you." She hesitated, curiosity edging into her tone. "Councillor Ultear, do you know more about Shadow Garden? That day was the first time I ever heard of them."
Ultear's smile thinned, her expression sharpening, though her voice remained composed. "A certain organization has been moving in the dark—eliminating guilds and cults tied to Zeref's worship and the resurrection of him and his demons. Based on the evidence we've gathered—and their very particular methods—we've identified them as Shadow Garden."
She clasped her hands behind her back as they walked. "They appear to be a large, well-coordinated organization. We never imagined their leaders were that powerful—certainly not powerful enough to annihilate a demon of Lullaby's caliber in one strike."
Erza's brow furrowed slightly as she absorbed the words. So… they hunt the followers of Zeref.
For a moment, her mind drifted elsewhere—to cold stone walls, to chains, to frightened children whispering in the dark. To him. To Jellal, whose eyes had once been gentle before the cult had twisted them with madness in Zeref's name.
If such an organization had existed back then… would they have come? Would they have saved him? Saved all of us?
Her fists clenched unconsciously.
"Do you have any leads on where to find them? Their base, their hideouts?" she asked finally.
Ultear shook her head, tone soft but unreadable. "Unfortunately, no. We know almost nothing about their inner structure. Why?" Her lips curved in a faint, knowing smile. "Planning to hunt them down yourself, Titania Erza? You realize that, officially, an unaffiliated group acting in secret makes them a dark guild, so you have all the rights to do that."
Erza met her gaze evenly. "Not at all. They've done nothing wrong. They may have destroyed the Council's meeting hall—and I may be here because of that—but they did it to stop a demon of Zeref. I can hardly condemn them for that."
Ultear's smile lingered—subtle, enigmatic. "I see…"
They continued walking, the echo of their steps filling the empty hall. Outside, the setting sun washed the marble corridor in molten gold.
Their reflections stretched across the polished floor—two figures walking side by side: one bearing the emblem of justice, the other, a whisper of shadows.
Erza's gaze flickered briefly to the windows, then back to the endless corridor ahead. Her face was composed, but her thoughts stirred beneath the surface.
Shadow Garden… an organization that hunts Zeref's remnants in the dark. With their leader's strength… perhaps they could do what she could not, back then.
The memories surged again—cold air, the Tower, children crying, Jellal's smile twisting into something else. The cult's chants echoing through stone halls.
She swallowed hard and glanced subtly to the side. Siegrain was gone, but the image of him lingered like a phantom behind her eyes—his face too familiar, his voice too smooth. Every instinct screamed that there was more to him than the Council believed.
If he's connected to Jellal, then any move I make could expose the Tower, and then he will kill everyone...
Contacting Shadow Garden… It's reckless. One mistake, and she'd bring danger to those still trapped in that place. And if Siegrain truly was what her heart feared, he'd know before anyone else.
Still, the thought wouldn't fade. The Tower of Paradise remained. Every day it remained, that past stayed unhealed.
If Shadow Garden truly fights Zeref's cults… they deserve to know. But first, for that, she has to find them...
She exhaled slowly through her nose, resolve hardening like steel beneath her calm expression.
Wait. Watch. Leave this place first.
Then, when the moment came, she would find a quiet path—through her master, perhaps, or through some nameless channel no one could trace—to send a whisper into the dark and see if the shadows would answer.
Her stride never faltered. The golden light dimmed behind them as they walked deeper into the corridor.
The decision would not be made by anger, nor by fear.
Only by timing.