Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem, nor will I lie to you to make myself seem more important by implying that I am a major stockholder of a large corporation. Nor are those two related.

Author Note: Some of you guys might recognize me from a few other fics I've done. I have dipped my spoon in the bowls of Star Fox, Pokémon, Harvest Moon, and The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion when it comes to writing, not to mention the online browser RPG Urban Dead and running my own RPG forum. Well, this is my latest attempt at a story. I am going to sort of try to adhere to the Fire Emblem 100 Challenge in writing this, although this chapter doesn't count. It's more of a prologue than anything, but I hate making prologue chapters on here because it throws off my numbering.

Some of you may be wondering exactly what this story will entail. Well, here, I shall divulge a bit of information about it. It does not take place in any established Fire Emblem realm. No Jugdral, no Elibe, no Tellius. No, sir/ma'am, this story takes place on an entirely new world, a mostly ocean planet orbiting a dazzling gas giant called Rapture. Despite this, FE characters will have their day. Lyn is actually the lead female character, so that alone is enough motivation to read this, am I right? :D

The year is 4444 AMW, though the citizens of the planet Roc have long since forgotten what exactly "AMW" means in regards to their history. Two large nations dominate the landscape. The industrious nation of Skene is home to an oligarchal society of prospering men and women, but with an unfortunate class divide. Their scientific progress knows no bounds, and their most recent endeavor has proven fruitful; within the past few decades, Skenian architects and scientists have developed the first means of feasible, practical human flight: the airship. Airships have bolstered their military strength and allowed travel to places that would have been impossible to reach before (floating islands and the lot). And yet, even though they've done a great service to the world, there are those who look at Skene with a wary, almost disdainful eye...

The climatically chaotic nation of Nevehan rivals Skene in both size and population, though their people are much more attracted to the coast, for Nevehan's center is a desert wasteland. Storms batter cities frequently, but the Nevehanese are resilient, hardy individuals who won't let a storm scare them off. Nevehan is the nation where the world's largest religion was founded, and thus its people are seen as pious, righteous individuals with a heavy respect for their resident "big man upstairs." They are also physically unique, in that their black skin shines with a bizarre, glasslike sheen, and their hair and eyes match the color of blood. In earlier days, they were persecuted for their differences, but it didn't take them long to assert themselves and gain respect.

Other nations exist: the luck-driven floating nation of Brakkenhaal, the jungles of Jogoso, and the resource-rich Skenian territory of Kralin, to name a few. The world has yet to be explored completely, so who knows what exactly lies out there, beyond the storm drifts and the ley lines?

This story's Lord will travel to wondrous and terrifying places, and team up with the most unlikely faces (including pirates, crazed cult leaders, false gods, and, you guessed it, favorites from the Fire Emblem series) in order to avert the judgment of a wrathful god and save the world from destruction. But, of course, it's not that simple...

That being said, I hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 1 – A Living Nightmare

To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. ~William Shakespeare

Darkness. Darkness all around. It consumed him; it filled his nostrils with the putrid scent of shadows, and his eyes with the blight of blindness, and his ears with the constant, unbearable ringing of silence. The mattress below his pale, aged body had fallen away, the ever-present cushioning vanishing as consciousness faded, in favor of something less comfortable, something intangibly painful and infinitely less appealing than the goosedown that beckoned him something fierce in the hours before, those long hours filled with anxiety, dread, and the unwelcome feeling that someone, somewhere, could see you, could see everything that you were doing and watched with bated breath for the chance to…to…

What? What would they do? What could they do?

He felt himself falling, but suddenly jerked up in his bed, sixty years of aches and pains erupting in his lower back and joints. His eyes shot open, revealing bloodshot orbs of red, his crimson irises matching the color of his hair, the color of his life's water, and he heard that unmistakable cackling, that bloodcurdling, maniacal, terrifying cacophony right next to him, red lips peeled back just inches from his ears, the demonic noise filling his erratic thoughts. He leapt from his spot to one side, then the other, turning his head swiftly, trying to pinpoint the spot where the voice might have been coming from, while his heart raced. Satisfied that he was alone and, once again, hallucinating, he laid back down upon his pillow, but he did not dare shut his eyes. For he knew as soon as he did, they would come back. The nightmares. They promised him that they would. And, unfortunately, as he had discovered, his nightmares always held to their promises, twisted, macabre as they were.

The night sky was blank. He rolled onto his side to divert his eyes toward the curtained window, noting a slight breeze that rippled the scarlet fabric draped across the arched opening, a few feet wide and as tall as the ailing emperor. The clouds were low that night and he could see the occasional flash of heat lightning through his narrowing eye slits that disappeared for the sight of a thin red membrane, so relaxing, so glorious, sleep-

No!

He tore at his eyelids mentally, forcing them open once more. The curtains kicked up as the wind outside increased. A light howling noise began to creep up in the stale castle, from the air blasting against the iron walls. Finally, some noise. It would help him stay awake. Almost immediately after that thought crossed his mind, the wind ceased, and the curtain fell, obscuring his view of the skies outside. Fantastic. Silence. Just what he needed. The king stood up from his bed and began to pace.

How long had it been now, that he had avoided sleep? It could only have been a few hours, 48 tops. A paltry sum, he'd decided. He'd stayed awake for much longer, for much worse reasons than a silly nightmare. But why did this nightmare have to be so goddamn persistent? Every time he shut his eyes, he would see that face. Those ruby-colored eyes…that bloodied hair…the gleaming fangs, the strained laughter, the veins bulging in the inhuman thing's forehead, the constant beckoning for the old monarch, the mysterious shape behind her, broad-shouldered and devilish, warning the emperor not to come back to the world of his own dreams, or suffer a fate worse than death…

He collapsed to his knees and clasped his hands in front of his chest.

"St. Bennett…give me the strength to ward off the nightmares. Give me peace of mind so that I may rest this night…"

As the short prayer came to a close, he fell forward onto the ground, his body unable to manage the strains of life without rest. He was going to sleep, whether he wanted to or not. And he most certainly did not.

He awoke in a world without form. Below him, he felt the ground, but there was nothing to be seen, not even his own feet. His hands were invisible in front of him. All of his senses had been blocked. But he knew exactly where he was. The feeling of those broken blades of grass crumbling between his clenched fists, the dead roots tickling his fingers as he pushed himself up onto his feet served as a timeless reminder of this place. He didn't know what this place was; only that he had been here before. Every night for weeks, it seemed. A putrid wind blew against his face, curling his lips and forcing his eyes into a squint that, under other, less supernatural circumstances, would've seemed almost comical. But in the wind, he felt something…wrong. Something off. He could feel someone else was standing nearby, perhaps very nearby, perhaps…

He clenched his fist and spun on his left heel, throwing his whole weight behind a vicious punch, and felt it connect with something soft and silky, but with a certain firmness, a certain delicate character, and his knuckles cracked as the force of the punch collapsed his fingers into his palm. Whatever it had been, it stepped back and yelped, its voice feminine and deep.

The being, humanoid in form, clutched its damaged face with both hands, squeezing out burning, salty tears from its vicious red eyes. It could see perfectly, or rather, she – the creature was unquestionably female – and even with the advantage of sight, she'd not seen the punch coming. The old emperor collapsed onto his knees and began probing the dead grass with his hands, crawling in the direction opposite the creature. She took a step back, her face swelling, and flashed her fangs, though the man could not see them. Two pronounced canines gleamed with the dead red of dried blood, and it was now that her muscular wings folded out from her back. She looked something like a gargoyle at this point, her obsidian skin toughening with every passing instant, her eyes glowing, her teeth gnashing.

The ground began to quake around the old man, knocking his frail arms out from under him and flattening him against the ground. As the topsoil shifted and the rocks cracked, rifts began to form, and red magma began flowing from within the earth. The magma convulsed and bubbled, and leapt menacingly at the emperor, who could feel the heat surrounding him, until he was forced to crawl back, with only one venue of escape, the land bridge that he knew led back to the devil woman.

The magma began to blacken and boil, turning into a glassy black liquid, like a molten plastic, filling with air, taking shape, the shape of a human, the shape of the gargoyle-like woman. The glassy bubbles exploded, launching more of these creatures into the air. Ten, twenty, one-hundred of the creatures now fluttered above the emperor, who had crawled to the woman's feet. She placed a heel atop his head and directed his blind gaze to the skies.

"St. Bennett!" he called into heaven, though his prayers were lost in the sea of wings above him. The call incited the creatures to action; they sharply cried into the reddening twilight, before beginning a swirling action, until each and every creature was indiscernible from the others.

The man lay down in defeat as he felt the evil woman bury her teeth in his neck. He didn't try to fight her off. He was too tired for that. It was his time. He was to die this night.

If only it were that easy…

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The Arcwhale

Kaitan, Ceptiem 6, 4444

"Emperor Blanc Gravely Ill!"

by Viktor Mandic

In a message that shook the entire nation of Nevehan early this morning, princess and acting Empress Adriana Blanc announced that our beloved emperor, His Majesty Odyffer Blanc, has fallen into a horrific illness. The royal family has reportedly called upon physician after physician in order to diagnose the bizarre, terrifying disease, but as of yet, no conclusion has been reached.

His Majesty was discovered this morning at 4:44am by his daughter, who sought his advice for "personal reasons." She found him lying on the floor, and checking his pulse, determined that he was still alive. The guard was alerted and the castle sector of the city was sealed, with armed soldiers placed at every entrance and exit. The castle was searched, but nothing suspicious was discovered. Initial explanations described a possible poisoning, but all of His Majesty's meals taken in the past week had been in the presence of company, and none of his company has shown signs of illness.

Dr. Sasha Forge, a physician who was interviewed upon exiting the emperor's chambers, reported that there was "nothing wrong with His Majesty, save for his unconsciousness." His breathing and heart were working normally, and he responded normally to physical stimulus. Forge described his "utter disbelief" that something so bizarre had manifested in the good king.

Princess Blanc is reportedly already engaging in talks with leaders of neighboring nations, although the subject of their talks has not been disclosed.

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Author's Notes: End of introduction. I like reviews, so if you want to make me happy, leave me one. And actually, I noticed that some other original Fire Emblem fics have readers submit characters via PM that they would like to see in the story, and that seems kinda neat. If you want to toss me a character or two, feel free, I may use them, I may not. The point is, you have an opportunity to influence the story. But don't just leave me a character, the review is what's most important and lets me know where I'm strong and where I need improvement.