Finally, the third part to my stories! I know that "Titleless" was a bit of a shock and perhaps a bit of a turn-off to some people. I also know that it drove at least one person insane. That, however, is to be expected. Not everyone is going to like my creation.

Speaking of my creation…Shit, it's almost done, isn't it!? What the hell am I going to do after this!!? Let's hope I can come up with another idea for a new Marth/Roy fic. If not, I might post some original fiction on FF.net.

Ron – Did I thank you for your review of the last chapter of "Titleless"? Pretend that I did.

Morias – Ah, my largest reviewer and most avid fan to date. I do believe that "Endless" is dedicated to you! And don't worry, I promise not to disappoint you with my final ending.

The Flame Panther – Only after reading your review did I actually realize that I HAD killed off EVERYONE (except Game & Watch, but I never liked him much anyway). I think I should probably pay more attention to those kindsa details next time, huh?

Thais – I'm not too sure how much yaoi I can get in here. Maybe some shounen-ai, but not much yaoi. I'll try, though, I promise!

Kid – So sorry to hear about your server, and so sorry to hear that you're, erm, insane now. Do hope you find someone to look at that brain for you. Maybe that defenseless wall, too…

Brad – I'll keep your suggestion in mind for the next story. :/ Weirdo.

Now that the formalities are done with, welcome to Endless.

The woods were silent and tranquil as the feathery snow began to fall. Light white flakes danced and floated around in the air, struggling to stay afloat for as long as they could before they came in contact with the ground. Once they touched the earth, they could never rise to the heavens again.

Despite the biting chill in the wintry air, our fire-wielding warrior wasn't cold at all. There was fierce warmth radiating from the vengeful blade of the Sword of Seals. The warm fire within the metal weapon mimicked that which was steadily growing in Roy's heart and thriving on his anger. His sword was the only intact accessory he carried. Roy wore only a charred black tunic and his red leggings along with his red boots. He had no cape, no gloves, and no heavy armor. These were the only things salvageable from the disaster at the Melee House.

Now, with a deadly determination in his eyes, Roy plodded off toward the one place he knew he could find his rival, Tomoyuki. True, it had been Marth who had destroyed the Melee Complex and everyone in it, but it wasn't his fault that he'd gone insane. Tomoyuki carried all the blame in this incident. It was his fault Marth had lost his hand!

The mage's dark abode loomed on the horizon of a darkening western sky. Crimson brows drew downward over bloodshot, tear-filled eyes. Roy's steady pace was carrying him off into the west, right to Tomoyuki's doorstep. The prowler-mage was about to get a very unpleasant visit.

--

Because he now lacked a place to call home, Marth found himself out in the wilderness at night. He was camped out in the snow on this early evening, huddled up close to a dying fire. The falling snow had collected on his shoulders and in his hair, yet he felt no chill from the winter weather. The coldhearted prince was used to such temperatures, but it was the chill inside that was numbing his limbs. He sat staring at the fire, miserable and oblivious to the world. Since he was certain now that nothing could be done to restore his hand, Marth's existence had become meaningless.

The sound of footsteps crunching in the fresh snow made Marth lift his iced gaze over the tops of the hedges beside him. The shadow of a traveler plodded past, inciting little more interest from the prince than a casual glance. However, a shine that caught his eye from between the hedges drew his dull gaze downward. This vagabond was toting along a weapon, a handsome cutter. It was a sword; a heavy blade set in a gold hilt, adorned with turquoise ornaments and dual rubies.

Marth's eyes widened in shock, but he remained silent. There was no mistake about it; that was the Sword of Seals! But that relic had been buried in the rubble of the Melee House, along with—Marth gulped, swallowing the fear quickly rising in his throat. Could this passerby be the ghost of the fallen Roy? Was Marth now being haunted by the spirit of his former friend? But if this was a haunting, then why did Roy walk right past him?

When the shock passed, Marth leapt to his feet and drew Falchion, clasping the hilt tightly in his hand. Without bothering to douse his smoldering fire, the prince began following closely behind the passing traveler. If this really was Roy, ghost or not, then Marth wondered just where he was going.

And what he was planning to do when he got there.

Just a chapter to set the scene and to help me get my thoughts straight. Chapter 2 comes after three reviews!