I decided to write this fic when I discovered that there simply were not enough like it. The FE fandom seems to be mostly made up of humor stories. Humor is great and all but I need a change. This fic will be very dark and is not for the faint of heart. I honestly have no idea how far I will take it. We'll have to see how the inspiration strikes.

Chapter 1 will be short so you can decide if I should continue or not.

*Story note* This takes place before Micaiah and Ike unit forces. So they're still enemies. Important plot point this is. :D The rest of the story will not be as confusing to read. You'll see what I mean.

Whenever you see the word "division" in all caps it means we are changing to another event.

Chapter 1

Before the Dawn

For the first ten minutes of sleep you feel awake. You hardly realize that your mind is slipping away into nothingness. It is during this time that we become unresponsive and begin to let go of ourselves. Our guard drops and peace is never-ending. Waking up is the opposite. You're on edge. Maybe even a little confused. You sit there and hardly realize that everything or anything is real. The world comes back in fragments. It's up to you to piece them together.

Ike is experiencing similar results. His eyes flicker open, find only darkness, and snap shut. It had hurt. He is instantly aware that something is wrong. The only thing he can sense is the thick taste on the center of his tongue. He can't quite place it…Then there is a smell. It stings his nose and makes his eyes water. His mind slowly gives it a few names. Decay. Rot. Festering flesh. It's nothing like smell of death on the battlefield. It's far worse. He suddenly remembers the taste, bile. His tongue seems to swell from the awful flavor. Eye's like the sky crack open again and peer into the darkness. Somehow it was brighter when his eyes were shut. Where is this place? He shivers. Pain. Pinching. Creeping. Sinking deeper. A quiver. What is this? Something runs down his back then down his legs. He can feel it at his ankle. It's skulking along his foot. Goddess, he wishes he had the strength to kick it off. Something else creeps along his outstretched arm. The feeling is no different. His arms are extended in such a way he is reminded of Tibarn's wings. Where is Tibarn? His arms…they're stuck. He pulls but feels disconnected. His wrists pulse and he can't move his fingers. The world isn't piecing itself together at all. He should be back in camp.

This dream won't end. Something else. A sound; the squeaking of a rusty hinge accompanied by footsteps. He can count the steps. Whoever it is, they're alone and they walk with a limp. The dim glow of a candle appears from around a corner and assaults his eyes. He winces and his vision blurs as his eyes water. From the candle's small light, he can see wax dripping down the sides in streaming globs. A gnarled hand grips the holder along with long knotted fingers. A face, wrinkled and decrepit, comes into focus before him. Iron bars cast shadows over Ike. They're all that separate him from that ghostly face. That crinkled mouth moves out of sync with its words. Ike wonder's if it's someone else speaking from deep within the darkness. But these words…they match this face so well.

His voice is a harsh whisper. "So many options…yes, countless even. My finest work…renowned…I'll be infamous…yes infamous…A god even." Ike feels the rough and cold stone of the wall against his back and realizes that he can't recoil any further. Cornered. He wants to speak-no shout. Anything but this… "Specimen is pristine…the muscle structure should withstand the treatment. I'm sure of it. Sure…yesss." His cold, beady, and crow-like eyes sweep over Ike as if he were something to be devoured. Ike holds his determined stare but wants to cringe more than anything. "Genius truly genius." He's mad. Completely insane. Nothing more.

"Wh-who are you?" Ike whispers. His voice trembles from the cold. He isn't that frightened, not yet.

"Restless, that's good." Ike can't stand it. He's cold, miserable, and on the verge of becoming ill; and all this madman can do is mutter nonsense. Ignore him like he was some talking parrot spitting useless phrases and twaddle.

"Answer me!" Ike's anger brings strength. The chains at his arms rattle and shiver. The rap against the cell walls their sound fading wit each passing second. Chink chink chink chink cachink achink. And through all this, those mad eyes just keep roving. He doesn't hear a word. Doesn't even move.

"Yes… now. Best to start, now." The iron bars scream as they shift aside. That craggy hand on his skin is so cold. Ike growls when something bites and pierces into his flesh. "Hush, my precious…Master Izuka will remedy this…" There's a pulsing in his veins. It burns and stings the same as ice.

DIVISION

It must be hours that he's been here. Yet still there is no light. No light means the air is sparse. The stone floor beneath his quaking form is dusty and stained crimson red. Ike curls his bare legs into his chest. His trembling arms wrap tightly around his torn and bloodied torso. Painstakingly, he crawls into the corner of the cell. His insides twitch and writhe. His eyes sting. Raised bumps cover his freezing skin. He wishes for home…for anywhere. The air prickles his lungs and he coughs heavily. Blood leaks out the corner of his mouth at a trickle. He wants to break that monster's hands. They touched him, manipulated him, and tortured him. Ike never cried or screamed but damn it if he didn't want to. There was still no light here; yet, somehow he can make out the small wisps of a spider web. The arachnid weaves its webbing in and out with delicate precision. Ike can only dream of understanding the countless years of instinct that go into the craftsmanship of the web. It's perfect and flawless. Ike knows he is the opposite. He feels broken. Dismembered.

DIVISION

So…should I continue? I apologize in advance. I don't normally write in present tense and sometimes mix up my words. Thanks for giving me a chance.