Sorry this keeps reading as being updated! I keep finding more damn typos!

Yet again, a band of invisible soldiers had stormed a nearby town. Corrin's army had become well seasoned in fighting them off and had grown to be known as their 'exterminators' among villagers far and wide. But the soldiers were tired... How long would it take before the beasts stopped appearing?

Based on past experience, Odin Dark felt the end was either infinitely far away or not achievable at all.

"Eldritch Smackdown!"

A thunderbolt erupted from his hand and struck someone down. A ripple in the air became splotched with purple before the invisible body hit the ground and evaporated. The only thing missing was purple smoke coming from it to remind him too strongly of another time.

Even in a different world with different appearances, undead soldiers struck a chord with him. Some days he couldn't tell if it brought back too many memories of pain and fear or too many filled with heroism and camaraderie.

How many days – no, years – had he spent alongside his friends battling such beasts? They'd banded together against the Risen so many times that it almost began to feel like routine by the end. He'd been asked by his allies in the Nohrian and Hoshidan armies how he could cut down the invisible men with such lack of concern. He'd blamed it on his talent and superior blood, but only he and two others knew the truth: It was purely from experience.

Laslow and Selena knew this as well, and they'd briefly discussed it with one another, even. From Odin's right, Laslow parried against an invisible swordsman and was losing his footing.

"I'll lend a fell hand!" cried Odin, striking the enemy down with a flick of the wrist.

"Nice moves!" Laslow called back. "Tell that fell blood of yours I owe it one."

And with that, he was gone, run off to assist one of their allies. But his words left a foul feeling in Odin's stomach.

Fellblood.

A vague feeling of nostalgia washed over him as that word took him back to days long gone. To memories of his father and sister, both cursed by the blood of the Fell Dragon. Of his mother, whose lineage passed him the Brand of the Exalt and guarded him from the hungry eyes of the Grimleal. But he knew the blood of his father still ran within him. In a way, this made him feel stronger: he was the justice-bringing master of an evil power.

"Ha! Those Risen don't stand a chance." He heard a cocky, feminine voice in his mind of a young girl. He could almost see the look of confidence on her face, the smile she got when they began getting theatrical. Morgan had always been a good partner for that... "Not when Owain and Morgan, harbringers of doom enter the field! I've been working on new moves too, Owain! Oh I can't wait for you to see this one; it's so coo-"

Another invisible soldier ran into his path. He had to stay focused. If there was one thing he learned in his years in Nohr, it was that getting lost in memories of another world did him no good. There was no time to get dragged down by ghosts of those he missed.

He managed to concentrate in the nick of time, dodging an arrow and having the good sense to counter with a move of his own.

He'd grown so accustomed over the years to using certain techniques, and he'd retained his and his sister's habit of dubbing them to keep battle interesting. Why there was even one that Morgan had come up with all on her own and taught him...

"ABYSMAL-"

"- BODY BLOW!"

He turned his back on the Risen he'd just struck down just in time to see Morgan in midair, her cry echoing through the valley. From his spot on the cliff, he couldn't see the enemy she'd struck down below them, but from the eruption that had just come from down there, he couldn't assume it had been pretty.

Before sinking below the cliff's edge, she flipped backwards and sunk back down to the ground, out of sight. That was the last of the Risen she'd just (presumably) annihilated.

"Who was that?" asked one of the adults from a few feet away. The Risen had all been cleared now, and the only sounds heard were murmurs. "Was that Robin's daughter?"

Not a moment later, as the Shepherds were beginning to regroup on the bridge between cliffs, he heard his name being called.

"Owain! Owain!" As he turned around, he saw Morgan climbing the ramp up the side of the valley, a huge, excited smile on her face. "Did you see that last move I pulled? Did you see that?! How AWESOME was that?!"

Owain returned her smile, thinking back to the shock he'd felt at seeing his little sister flipping through the air.

"Indeed, I saw, my young apprentice!" he replied proudly. He liked to think he was the reason she'd been getting so powerful, having shown her the beauty of developing special moves. "It was quite the sight to behold!"

As she reached the clifftop, Owain noticed a heavy limp in her step. She was clearly trying to avoid putting weight on her right ankle.

"Wait a second, Morgan. Why are you limp-"

"Right!? I just channeled all my energy and then-" She didn't seem to even notice her brother was worrying about her.

"Morgan, w-"

"FWOOSH! And the Risen just exploded! And-"

"MORGAN!" This time, it wasn't Owain who shouted. This voice was much older, and noticeably angrier.

Their father had found them.

"Why did I see you forty feet in the air at the end of the battle?" He stormed up to his children, his cloak billowing behind him before his his brown eyes came to burn into his daughter's.

"Forty feet?! No way I got that high up!" Morgan exclaimed, completely ignoring her father's angry tone.

"Morgan..." Robin muttered, lifting a hand with carefully controlled gesturing to articulate his point. "You could've hurt yourself! I thought I told you two to take it easy with your... moves." He hesitated at the end, finding it hard to take himself seriously when speaking of his children's special techniques.

"She did hurt herself," Owain piped in from the side, earning a quick look of betrayal from his younger sister.

"What?!"

"It's just a sprained ankle!" Morgan hurried to defend herself. She tried to keep up a cheery demeanor, though her left leg was beginning to look tired from holding all her weight. "I didn't quite stick the landing this time."

"Morgan! There shouldn't be a landing to stick! You have to be more careful!" her father scolded her, his voice rising louder than it normally ever did with her. He crouched down and brought his hands to Morgan's ankle. "Let me see. Gods, it's swelling... Can you walk?"

"Yeah," Morgan replied, more muted now that her facade had been seen through. She really was in a fair bit of pain.

From the bridge, someone shouted their father's name, his assistance evidently required."I'm coming!" he hollered back before turning his attention back to his children. "Owain, makes sure she gets to your mother. We'll talk afterwards, young lady."

And with that, he was gone – off to handle the post-battle issues needing tending to and leaving his children standing off to the side.

"Some people just sound wrong saying 'young lady," Morgan commented slyly, trying to slip back into her cheerful mood. Her tone wasn't entirely convincing.

"He's right, Morgan." Owain's voice was harder and more serious than usual, in the hopes that his sister would really listen to him. Perhaps even take him seriously. "It's not worth hurting yourself over to achieve a legendary level move."

"I know, I'm sorry," his sister replied with reluctant guilt. "I'll be more careful."

A pause followed in which Owain nodded with finality and Morgan's silence turned less guilty. Slowly, an ear to ear smile grew on her face. She looked up at her brother with proud, gleaming brown eyes. "You really thought it was legendary, though?"

Owain let out a small laugh, his sister's optimism never failing to shine through. "My eyes have never beheld such power!" he exclaimed with a bow. "Teach me your ways, young hero of legend."

Morgan laughed before holding out her hand to her brother. With a grin on her face, she initiated their special handshake as they clasped their right hands together followed by their left ones, crisscrossing their arms. With a laugh, they ended it all with a butting of their foreheads.

Though she'd lost her memories, being with his sister felt like home. It reminded him of happier times, of being a family before the world fell into chaos. Hearing her laugh as she rested her forehead against his, he felt like nothing had ever changed.

"Odin! Look out!"

With a jolt, he snapped his head up to see a lance charging straight for his stomach. He could hear Lord Leo's cry behind him and the hooves of his horse running to his aid, but he didn't need it. With quick reflexes, he held out his arm and flung his wrist down and out. The invisible warrior rippled and fell.

"Spectacular form," Leo praised his retainer. Odin hadn't realized he'd cast his spell differently than normal, though in retrospect he could feel the aftereffects of using his father's form of spellcasting. He made no comment on this fact aloud. "Just keep your wits about you. You'll get yourself killed spacing out like that on the battlefield."

Lord Leo left to continue fighting with no other words but that, leaving Odin to stand alone. For an instant, he clutched his hand gently in front of him, remembering the feeling of a secret handshake. He leaned his head forward, though no one was there to meet it on the other side.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to conclude his mind's segue into nostalgia. Leo was right; he needed to keep his wits about him. If he ever was to make it back to Ylisse, he would need to first help finish this war. And he would do that by felling one invisible soldier at a time if he had to.

Each spell cast, each fallen enemy was one step closer to going home. To his mother, to his father, to his sister. He downed one, two, three more soldiers, each a chip away at the heart of the war.

"Unquenchable Bloodflames!" There went another.

"Radiant Dawn!" Another.

"ABYSMAL BODY BLOW!" And there went the last of them.

You all remember that critical animation for sorcerers in Fates where they rise in the air, hit, and flip backwards? Yeah. That's it.

Also unintentionally referenced "Owain needs no aid!" when Leo tried to save him. Rather happy accident.