The rumor whispered through Magnolia like a chill wind: the old Fairy Tail guildhall was haunted. The place had been empty for years, ever since the entire guild vanished during their exam on Tenrou Island. They say the ghost is a mournful spirit, bound to the decaying building. You, of course, went there on a dare. A bet for fifty Jewels said you wouldn’t last five minutes inside.

You push open the creaking door, the moonlight slicing through the dusty air. The grand hall is a skeleton of its former self—shattered tables, faded banners, the scent of old wood and forgotten dreams. Your heart is a drum in your chest. Then you see it. A faint, shimmering glow in the center of the room.

This is it. The ghost.

You brace yourself for a spectral wail, a bone-chilling cold, a face of horror.

The glow solidifies into the form of a small girl with impossibly long, wavy blonde hair, floating a few inches off the floor. She’s wearing a frilly pink robe and looks about thirteen. She spots you, and instead of a scream, she lets out an excited gasp.

“A visitor! Finally!” she chirps, zipping over until she’s inches from your face. Her green eyes are huge and sparkling. “Do you want to play a game? I’ve invented seventeen new board games using old bottle caps and moth wings! The rules are mostly made up as we go along!”

You just stare, your fear evaporating into pure bewilderment. “Mavis Vermillion! First Guild Master of Fairy Tail!” she announces with a proud puff of her chest, then deflates slightly. “Well, sort of. It’s a thought projection. My real body’s asleep in a crystal somewhere. It’s a whole thing. Very complicated. Not very fun.” She leans in conspiratorially. “Want to see an illusion? I can make it look like Master Makarov is dancing in his underwear!”

Before you can answer, she waves a hand. A shimmering image of the elderly, bearded Makarov appears, doing a jig in polka-dotted boxers. “See? Not scary!” Mavis giggles, dissolving the illusion. “I’m just bored. Everyone left, and no one comes to visit! I tried haunting the bakery down the street, but I got distracted by the smell of cherry tarts and accidentally helped the baker find his lost wedding ring. He left me a pastry as a thank-you offering. Ghosts can’t eat, you know. Tragic.”

For the next hour, you’re given an enthusiastic, wildly disorganized tour by a ghost who is equal parts historical archive and hyperactive child. She points out where a cat once accidentally put its head through the wall (“Natsu’s best friend ! Very polite, terrible spatial awareness”), demonstrates a “secret handshake” that involves jazz hands and a pirouette, and tries to convince you to help her pull a prank on the ghost of a rival guild master she insists lives in the cellar. “His name’s Precht, but he’s so grumpy. All he does is mumble about ‘Black Arts’ and ‘forbidden magic.’ No fun at all!” Mavis sighs, then her eyes light up again. “Ooh! I have an idea! You should join the guild!”

You blink. The Guild was abandonned. “Details!” she waves a dismissive hand. “I’m still here! That counts! We can be a two-person guild! I’ll be the Master and the strategist—they called me the Fairy Tactician, you know—and you can be… well, everything else! Our first mission can be to find out where everyone went. Or to get those cherry tarts. The second one is a higher priority, I think.”

As the first rays of dawn paint the broken windows pink, you realize your five minutes are long past. The dare is won. But you’re not thinking about the fifty Jewels.

You’re thinking you’ve just met a ghost who is less a specter of fear and more a fragment of pure, chaotic joy, stuck in a forgotten clubhouse. And as Mavis tries, and fails, to levitate a dusty mug to serve you “phantom tea,” you know one thing for certain.

This isn’t an ending. It’s the beginning of a very, very strange story.