Author's Note: Howdy! This is a pet project I've wanted to do for a while now, but for some reason I've never gotten around to it. I've was just too busy with other things, I guess. But now that the Lisanna and Bixlow thing is starting to take off, I've decided to contribute more. Because I love them. Dearly. This is something a little different for me, though; it's less comedy, more action, something of a serious take on life in Fiore. Hence the M rating. It's not necessarily because of sex. It's really violence. Because this is going to get violent. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it, and don't forget to spread the love (or whatever it is you humans call that feeling of warm satisfaction in your gut) via favoriting and following and reviewing. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairy Tail. I think it's well established by now that Hiro Mashima does, and I'm not Hiro Mashima. Please stop making me say it. I die a little inside every time.

Prologue

A shadow shifted in the darkness.

Alastor looked up from the flame pit into the gaping maw of the tunnel. It was just a flicker, a silent glimpse two shades darker than the glittering teeth of the great stone beast. He brought his attention back to the fire. "Good evening, Sister."

A swish of the swirling black cloak brushing the rock floor was the only sound the woman made as she stepped into the light of the cavern. Gurgling hymns rose from the tunnel behind her, misshapen music echoing off the stone walls, enfolding the residents in the ugly, reassuring noise. The figure inclined her head toward the white fire in the center of the cave. "Good evening, Brother Alastor." She removed the hood of her robes, letting white hair bleached from the light of the flames tumble down her shoulders. Her eyes were stark black holes in her fair face.

"Duska," Alastor greeted warmly, less formally. He stood, red robes unfurling around his broad body, stopping just out of reach of the pit. "What have I the pleasure?"

"It is I who have the pleasure of your company, Brother," Duska murmured. "I have news that will please you. The blessing is almost complete. All that is left are the sacrifices."

Alastor looked back down at the flames, scratching the brown stubble on his chin. "You were right, Duska. This news does please me." He turned back to her. "Fetch Brother Hugh."

"I'm already here." A second shadow detached from the wall, shooting smoothly into the light. Alastor was impressed, and a little alarmed. He hadn't noticed the slim dark man slouching in the creases of the cave. Then again, Hugh was his lieutenant for that very skill.

"Leave us," Hugh told Duska in his deep, firm voice. The woman nodded and retreated into the tunnel, pulling the hood back over her blonde head. Her narrowed eyes betrayed her dislike for Hugh, but no one really did appreciate the lieutenant. No one except Alastor. And here, only Alastor's opinion mattered.

Hugh's eyes were silver in the white light, his hair and skin black as pitch. Unlike the others, he never honored the tradition of wearing the hood of his robes before speaking to a superior. He never addressed anyone as 'brother' or 'sister' either, which was generally a grievous insult. Hugh, however, was good enough at his job to forgive such insubordination. Good and loyal.

The lieutenant pointed one long finger at the white flames. "Duska shared the news. It's time to begin, Alastor. What have you seen?"

"Nothing," Alastor said, walking around the fire pit. The word brought a smirk to his thin lips. "Absolutely nothing."

"Why are you so smug? Nothing isn't good. It gives us no leads, nowhere to strike."

"I disagree," said Alastor. "Nothing means we've accomplished our goal. Nothing means there is no future. No future in the flames, no future in the future. Nothing is a blank canvas on which we can paint the glorious vision of our Lord Zeref."

Hugh scowled. "But we need sacrifices, Alastor. Where are we to get the sacrifices?"

"Never fear, dear brother. There is plenty of fodder around us." Alastor brushed his fingers along the flames, twirling and shaping the fire into the spindles of a grand guild hall. "All we need to do is hunt."

Hugh's teeth flashed like a bright blade in the dimness. "Hunting. I know how to do that. I'll grab Enid, and we'll have your sacrifices before sundown tomorrow."

"No, not Enid," Alastor said sharply, his fiery guild hall collapsing. "I need this done quietly. Even the fiercest wolves cannot slaughter an entire flock of protected sheep. But when they take the lambs in the night, one by one, eventually they will conquer the shepherd's herd."

"I think you underestimate the wolves," Hugh growled.

"Regardless, there can be no mistakes. We're cutting it close as it is. If one thing goes awry, the whole operation will tumble."

"Very well," Hugh resigned.

"I'm glad you've listened to reason," said Alastor. He swept his hand across the fire so it raged, screaming, up to the ceiling. Hugh flew back to avoid the inferno, eyes round and panicked, like a wild animal caught between fight and flight. Alastor tipped back his head and laughed. "Remember, Brother Hugh," he warned with a ferocious grin, "the best killers are those whose prey doesn't realize it's already dead."

With a snap of his fingers, he put out the flame.