Once upon a time at the foot of a great tree called Mila. There was a glade where the voice of Naga slept. Her very existence a mystery to the rest of the world obscured as it was by religious dogma. Here Tiki slept away her peaceful life. Innocent of the litany of excessive violence that was growing in the world beyond. To live in harmony of the spirit of Naga was enough for her.

In the valley below the Mila tree. Villagers from all around were following through the motion of a dance so old the meaning had been long forgotten to them. With just a jump to the left, and a step to the right, with their hands on their hips, and their knees pulled in tight, the villagers danced their nights away. In the mornings, the people of Valm would wake and look to the great tree and think.
"Why was it bringing darkness into their lives?" For the first time the people beneath the Mila tree felt fearful. For they felt, Naga would no longer tolerate the world as it was, because now a cold and bitter wind blew through the trees. The likes of which none in living memory had felt before, and the people of the valley prayed. In the hopes their souls might be spared the goddesses wrath.

Tiki awoke with a start. Her heart was racing. She had grown accustomed to communicating every night with Naga herself. So, when her decade long sleep was interrupted the first time she was unconcerned. The second time she was surprised. The third time she was concerned. It chilled Tiki down to her core. For without sufficient years of sleep the voice Naga was silent, her understanding limited. Why the goddess had abandoned her Tiki knew not. Never had she been so tired. Never had she seen bags beneath her eyes. Never had she had so little sleep.

Robin on the other hand slept, and dreamed. He dreamed of fire. He dreamed of lightning. He dreamed of purple mists, and endless plains of sand. He dreamed until he was awoken by a voice.

"Chrom, we have to do something," spoke a high voice, likely that of a young woman, who had not quite passed into adulthood.

"Well, what do you propose we do," spoke a deep voice, likely that of a man, who had yet to reach the fullness of adulthood.

"I don't know," spoke the girl, as Robin opened his eyes.

"I see you're awake now," spoke the man, "there are better places to take a nap then on the ground you know." He offers his hand to Robin, "give me your hand." Robin follows his command, but his eyes are drawn to a strange symbol of the back of Robin's hand. It appeared to be seven eyes arranged in an upside-down pyramid. "Are you alright?" he asks.

"Y-yes…" replies Robin, "thank you Chrom." On hearing this Chrom looks surprised.

"Ah, then you know who I am?" He asks.

"No, but I heard this little girl call you that when you were waking me up," Robin said.

"Hehe, I guess that makes sense," Chrom rubs the back of his blue haired head, smiling. "Tell me, what's your name? What brings you here?"

"My name is Robin, I'm here for…" Robin is struck with a horrible headache, as if hot nails were being driven into his temples. "I'm not sure… I'm sorry but where exactly am I?" The young girl, with pale corn silk hair, and a yellow frilly dress jumps into the conversation.

"Hey, I've heard of this! It's called amnesia!" She is far too loud for Robins frayed nerves, and he flinches slightly at her exclamation. Seeing this her face takes on a frown, and she bites her upper lip.

"It's called a load of Pegasus dung," speaks a second man Robin hadn't noticed up until now. He held himself with the air of authority, and Robin immediately assumed he was the leader of the small group. That and the fact the man was dressed in heavy armor, and carried a large spear. "We're expected to believe you don't know where you are?"

"Where am I though? You still haven't told me." Robin says.

"Well Frederick if he has lost his memory we can't exactly leave him here. It's not safe," says Chrom.

"Just the same, Milord, I must emphasize caution. He made it here on his own, either he can take care of himself or he's one of them," Frederick says. Annoyed at being ignored as if he was a child asking a stupid question, Robin turns to look at the young girl.

"Where am I?" He asks her. She smiles a bit too wide for Robins comfort, and sways with her hands behind her hips. After humming a few moments, she puts a finger up to her lips and replies.

"In a field of course, don't be silly." This isn't the answer Robin was looking for and he resolved that a useful exchange of information would not be achieved with any of the people currently standing in front of him.

"Right, then we should just escort him back to town with us," Chrom says nodding his head, and placing his hands on his hips.

"Do I have any say in this?" Robin asks taking a step back from the trio. As all three of them take a step towards him Robin deduces that he likely does not. His thoughts are confirmed when Chrom reaches out and grabs his arm.

"Peace friend, unsightly things happen to lone travelers in these woods. We will ensure your safety. Now come," He commands, pulling Robin closer. Frederick steps next to him cutting off any chance Robin had of escape.

So they set out walking, Robin takes this time to examine his surroundings. In the distance is a great mountain, and every so often, amongst the trees are strange totems. Adorned with bones, and the symbols of whatever religion the creator ascribed too painted on with blood. It seemed to Robin a bit gruesome, but he didn't really have a frame for what was normal for forest totems so he didn't make any comments. The way was slow, and the journey unpleasant. Robin was deep in thought but aware enough to be made uncomfortable by the intense stares of the young girl and the armored knight. To the point that upon leaving the forest he stopped walking, "what will you do with me? Am I to be your prisoner?" He asked dreading what answer he might receive.

Chrom turned back to face him, and tilted his head up to let out a bark like laugh. "You'll be free to go once we establish you're no enemy of Ylisse." Information. Robin was quite relieved, this was the answer to at least one of the many questions that had been running through his mind.

"Ylisse, what's that?"

"You've never heard of the Halidom?" Says Frederick, his eyebrows narrowing. He scoffs, which makes Robin scowl, "Someone pay this actor, he plays quite the fool." Chrom holds up both hands.

"Frederick please, play nice with the poor amnesiac," Chrom says, he then turns back to face Robin once more. The tone of his voice becomes more childish, and he speaks slowly, "This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. Our ruler, Emmeryn, is called the Exalt."

Robin interrupts, "I'm not stupid you needn't speak so slowly."

"My apologies, I guess I'm just not used to explaining such things to an adult," Chrom says, "Anyway I suppose proper introductions are in order, I'm Chrom. The delicate little one is my sister Lissa."

"I am NOT delicate!" Lissa exclaims, and again Robins already pained head throbs causing him to flinch. This makes Lissa's voice drop, as she continues, "ignore my brother please, he's a bit dense. You're lucky we found you, if it had been forest people you wouldn't have woken up at all."

"Forest people?" Robin says.

"Barbaric men who've lost all their reason, they carry out foul rituals in the forest. Defiling the land, and any women they catch." Says Frederick.

"I've heard they drink blood out of the skulls of the people they kill" Says Lissa.

"They are butchers the likes decent folk cannot consider without encountering it themselves," Chrom says.

"Well I guess I should be thankful," Robin says, for the first time legitimately glad the trio had found him.

"We're almost to the town. Once there we can-"

"Chrom the town" Lissa screams. Robin flinches and grabs his head. As a group they all turn to look at the pillars of black smoke in the distance. All conversation stops as Lissa and Chrom rush in the direction of the town. Robin is pulled along by Frederick despite his protests.

The sight that greets Robin upon entering the town, makes him empty his stomach onto the cobblestones of the street. Severed limbs were strewn about randomly, weapons and average objects as well. The street itself was stained with many streaks of blood that all lead deeper into the town. He could hear screaming in the distance mixed with a deep rhythmic chanting. The stench and heat of fire was overwhelming, all only Frederick seemed unaffected. As the group delved deeper into the town they began to smell piss, shit, and charred flesh. Brutalized bodies of barbarians and townsfolk littered the street, and blood was so thick on the ground that it splashed underneath the rushed footsteps of the party. Lissa for her part at least knew better than to complain about the splatter getting on her dress and shoes, but she almost accepted anything to distract her from the carnage she hadn't seen before as a combat medic. When they reached the town square Chrom drew his blade, and Frederick entered a fighting stance as well. Despite their stomachs churning at the view of what appeared to be the entire towns populace either caged, dead, or in the process of being slain. The barbarians that survived the fight seemed to be reveling in the wholesale extermination of the townspeople. Choking the old to death with their own entrails, tossing he heads of decapitated villagers around like a sportsball, and raping anyone who caught their eye. Dancing among the cages stabbing wildly at the people within, smearing blood over their skin and faces, the barbarians barked and chanted words that sounded like gibberish to Robin.

"Maim! Kill! Burn! Maim! Kill! Burn!" On and on it went until they were interrupted by Fredericks spear piercing the throat of the nearest man. Sensing the arrival of real opponents, they cease their torture of the townsfolk and begin to charge towards the group. Quickly Chrom and Frederick find themselves being overwhelmed by the numbers advantage the barbarians had. Many blows slip past their defenses, Frederick makes due with his heavy armor deflecting the blows or by catching them on his shield, but Chrom is not so lucky and finds himself stand close to Lissa so that she can heal his wounds as he receives them. The tide of battle seems to be waring both of the elite warriors down until a loud crack of thunder reverberates through the square, and a ball of lightning roasts a warrior who had gotten behind Frederick.

"You can use magic! You could have helped earlier you know!" Lissa said.

"I wasn't sure how to make it work," Robin replied unleashing another ball lighting spell. Wincing at the volume of the spell. The battle lasts or only another couple minutes, but to Robin it feels like an eternity, he is constantly assaulted by visions of ghostly opponents running in to sight only moments before the real foes come, almost as if he could see the future like he had impossible knowledge of where his opponents were. It unnerved him, but it also saved his and the others lives multiple times over the course of the fight so he didn't question it.

After Frederick easily dispatched the last enemy, the whole experience caught up to Robin. He had taken a life, multiple lives. There was blood on his hands now, but it came easily to him, so maybe there had always been blood on his hands. The trio was attending to the villagers who had survived, but the town still burned out of control, and with the few survivors traumatized, bleeding, or otherwise, a large enough group wasn't able to be organized to fight the blaze.

So now Robin found himself in the impromptu refugee camp that night, lit by the conflagration of the town and all the dead residents within it. Frederick had said it was the best goodbye they could give the dead from the attack, but more were still dying as the night went on. Succumbing to wounds untreated, as Lissa had used up her staff's power very quickly after the fight. He sat with his chin on his knees, arms holding them close to him. His thoughts were consumed with hate for the so-called forest people. An arm being placed on his shoulder breaks his train of thought.

"You're certainly no helpless victim, that much is for sure," Chrom says, "you fought to save Ylissian lives, and that makes you ok in my book."

"I don't feel like I saved many lives," Robin replies.

"Don't sell yourself short, I could use someone with your talents," Chrom says, "you could do a lot of good for the world."

"Thank you Chrom."

"So how about it, you've seen the evils we fight against. I know I have no right to ask you to put yourself in danger once more, but will you join me, and help me protect the people of Ylisse?" Chrom says, sitting down next to Robin. Robin turns away from the fires in the night to look at Chrom. His face is tilted down, and shadows cover his eyes, he's covered in blood from head to toe, and Robin can't tell how much of it is Chrom's and how much of it belongs to his late foes. He see's tears begin to run down Chrom's face, washing clean streaks through the crimson. "Please."

"I would be honored."

Journal entry # 538: I've been given an invaluable insight today. I've made a breakthrough. Soon my studies will yield fruit. Today I made contact. I knew it would happen. I knew it would work. Those fools called me mad, but I knew. They worship their death god, but Grima is just a small fry. What kind of god can be killed by a man? It's preposterous to even think about. It would be like if I was killed by a fly. I've seen a real god. A being so vast it defies any other kind of classification. A being so powerful a single world is beneath its notice. In the depths of the void I saw it. A bulbous mass of appendages and claws floating amongst the stars. Covered in gaping maws large enough to swallow whole stars, lined with rows upon rows of teeth it was a primal horror. About it danced even more creatures of a similar but smaller fashion, they played strange instruments in an eerie melody. The secrets of reality. The answers to questions no one has ever even thought to ask. They're just beyond my grasp. Soon though. I will have them. My works will be read only by the most advanced of students, they will be burned by those foolish blind Naga worshipers. I wouldn't have it any other way. In generations, my name will be spoken in hushed reverent tones.

Abdul Alhazred, the "mad" plegian. It has a nice ring to it.