Fairy Tail: Beneath a Falling Star

Chapter 6: Lanterns Over Quiet Roads

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The village square never looked quite like this.

What was usually a plain stretch of packed dirt and faded banners had transformed overnight. Strings of colored lanterns hung from eaves and posts, swaying in the summer wind. Stalls had been wheeled out and draped with cloth—red, green, gold—each one promising warmth and wonder. There were tables stacked with rice cakes, skewered meats sizzling over charcoal, bottles of sweet plum juice glinting in the light. Musicians tuned their flutes near the well, laughter spilling from the mouths of children running barefoot across the stone path.

Caelion stood quietly near the edge, his hands tucked behind his back. He'd helped string lanterns earlier in the day, climbing rooftops and securing knots while the baker's daughters passed him ribbon. His sleeves still smelled faintly of lavender and ash.

A soft tug on his elbow startled him.

"You promised," chirped Naela, the younger of the twins from the bakery. She wore a bright pink yukata, her hair tied with star-shaped clips. "You're gonna do the sparkles. You said!"

Caelion smiled awkwardly. "I did say that."

"And you can't lie," added her sister, Mia, who appeared beside her with arms crossed. "It's festival night."

He raised his hands, trailing faint dust-light across his fingers like powdered moonlight. The twins gasped and clapped. The sparkles didn't do much—they flickered and danced and vanished after a few seconds—but under the warm lanterns and the giggles of onlookers, it felt like enough.

"Do it again!" Naela pleaded.

This time he shaped a swirl, letting it spiral gently before releasing it into the air. It was harmless, silent, pretty—the kind of magic that couldn't cut or burn or break anything. The kind that faded with the wind.

But tonight, that felt like a gift.

"Is that all it does?" asked one of the boys, crouched nearby with a half-eaten dumpling. "You ever try fighting with it?"

Caelion hesitated. "Not really."

"Why not?" The boy blinked. "I bet if you practiced, you could turn it into shooting stars or something. Like a real attack."

Caelion didn't answer. He just smiled faintly and let the light fade from his hands.

The boy shrugged and returned to his food.

As night deepened, music filled the air—simple melodies carried on wooden flutes and hand drums. The elders danced first, their movements stiff but joyful, prompting cheers and rhythmic clapping. Then the children were ushered in, forming uneven circles and laughing as they tried to imitate the steps.

Caelion didn't dance. He found a place near a fence, close enough to feel the warmth but far enough to stay quiet.

He liked watching the way the light reflected off everyone's faces—how the lanterns gave their skin a soft glow, how shadows danced in their eyes. No one asked where he came from or why he didn't speak much. Tonight, he was just part of the village. One lantern among many.

Still, something pulled at him.

As the music softened and the crowd shifted toward fireworks, Caelion slipped away. He climbed the hill behind the fields, the same place he often trained at night. From here, he could see the entire village bathed in warm golden light—flickering torches, bursts of laughter, the sparkle of firecrackers exploding like tiny stars overhead.

He sat in the grass, cross-legged, letting the hum of the night soak into him.

Above, the sky was clear. No clouds. Just stars.

He raised his hand and summoned the faint glow of Star Dust Magic. This time, it floated longer—more stable. The shimmer pulsed gently, responding to the rhythm of his breath. He shaped it into a ring, then a ribbon, then a curved arc.

It still wasn't enough. Not for attack. Not for shields. Not for real combat.

But it was something.

"I want to get stronger," he whispered. The words felt strange in his mouth, too heavy for the wind to carry.

He wasn't sure who he was speaking to—the stars, the strange voice that once named him, or just himself.

He looked down at his hands. Nine years old. Still growing. Still learning.

But there was something inside him. Not just the magic he'd hidden. Not just the voice he kept locked away.

A need to reach upward. Even if the stars never noticed him again.

Down below, the final fireworks lit the sky in brilliant bursts of color—red, blue, violet. Lanterns floated upward, carried by warm air and the hands of wishful villagers.

Caelion watched them rise.

He didn't make a wish. He didn't close his eyes or whisper anything into the wind.

He just watched.

And for once, it felt like the sky watched back.