Chapter Six: The Broken Mask

Moonlight spilled through the gently rustling branches of the trees surrounding me, bathing the clearing in a twilight glow. The soft breeze stirred my hair and caressed my face. All around me were the sounds of nature; crickets chirped, owls hooted, and wolves howled in the distance. It was peaceful, but still I felt restless. There was something foul in the air tonight.

I held Falchion before me in my right hand. I stared at the sacred sword unblinkingly, watching the light of the full moon play across its spotless steel length. This blade was the only weapon I'd ever used, given to me shortly after my father's death even though I'd been too young to wield it at the time. When Lon'qu had judged me old enough to begin learning the way of the sword, there had been no doubt about which sword I would use. It had seen me through hundreds of battles against Risen, the blade itself as much a symbol of hope as I had ever been. Soon it would be called into service once more to defend humanity.

Somewhere out there in the night was another Falchion, equal to my own. In the hands of my father, it was just as powerful a weapon for good as it was in mine. Now that I'd had more time to think it over, I admit that the idea of two versions of the same unique weapon seemed wrong somehow. Falchion should stand alone in its purity, as it always had. But I hadn't considered that before travelling through the Rift, and even if I had I would never have left it behind. It was part of me.

I sheathed Falchion and raised my left hand. In it were the severed halves of the butterfly mask I'd once worn. I wasn't sure why I'd held on to them all this time; even if the mask could be made whole again, my father and his comrades had already seen my face. It would be ridiculous to try to conceal it when they knew quite well that I wasn't a man. There was a certain amusing irony in having to hide your identity from your allies and not your enemies. The Brand would mean little to the Grimleal.

Perhaps, I reflected, I'd kept the mask in a desperate attempt to hold on to the concepts it had once represented to me. The idea that I had to let go of being Lucina and embrace doing whatever was necessary to prevent Grima's return had energized me then, but now it just made me feel sick. I was who I was, and to deny that would be wrong. I'd had to re-evaluate many of the convictions that had sent me through the Rift in the first place.

A month of attempting to indirectly interfere in a war, and two years in which to consider the outcome, had taught me that my original plan simply wasn't viable. If I really wanted to change the future then I needed to fully commit myself and fight with everything at my disposal. Even then, I couldn't do it alone. To continually fight by myself while trying to hide my very identity from others was futile. No, it was time that I let go of those notions. I dropped the severed halves of the mask into the grass at my feet and left the clearing without looking back.

War had come again, though only a select few on this continent were aware of it. An initial landing force of the mighty Valmese Empire had landed in Ferox Harbor just a few short days ago. They claimed dominance over these lands and the entire world in the name of Walhart the Conqueror, their emperor. The Valmese had little mercy for anyone that was not a groveling subject, and a number of innocent citizens of the port had been killed or maimed by the invaders.

The Shepherds, warned ahead of time by Virion and summoned into action by Flavia and Basilio, had reacted to such abuse with deadly force. Although the Valmese cavalry were said to be the best on either side of the sea, the first invasion force had been lured into a trap using the alleys of Port Ferox. I hadn't watched the battle myself, but I had heard of it from curious onlookers. Even trained horses didn't take well to being trapped in tight spaces and surrounded by burning buildings. The Valmese had been annihilated to a man.

But Chrom and Destin would be well aware that the battle had been but a prelude to what was to come. What they had faced was merely a scouting force. The real invasion was still on its way, and if the full might of the Valmese army landed there would be little chance of stopping them. Neither Ylisse nor Regna Ferox had warships capable of standing up to the Valmese at sea, but Plegia did. Even if they'd been at peace for two years, I doubt anyone was happy about the idea of asking them for aid – but what other choice did they have?

So it was that the Shepherds had journeyed to Carrion Island this very day to meet with the new king of Plegia. I'm sure they had their apprehensions, but from my limited knowledge of the Valm war in my time I was all but certain that they would obtain the ships they needed. However…

A frown formed on my face as I walked. I had spent some time learning all that I could about the new Plegian king. I didn't like what I had found. His name was Validar. He was a tall, snake-like, oily man who had taken great pains not to antagonize Plegia's former enemies. At the same time, he had made incredible progress in bringing all aspects of the nation under his thumb considering the short time he'd been king. Both he and his advisor Aversa, the former companion and tactician of Mad King Gangrel himself, were openly of the Grimleal. That made them the enemy.

I had heard the name Validar before in my own time, but all I knew of his actions was that he had been vaguely involved with Grima's return. It seemed this new timeline I had helped forge had a different place in mind for him. Well, so did I – an unmarked grave would do nicely.

That would have to wait, unfortunately. Plegia's warships were needed to combat the Valmese on equal terms, and Validar would be willing to let the Ylissean League have them. As much as I considered the Grimleal and their master to be the greater danger to the world, changing history in such a way that Walhart might end up victorious wasn't a very good prospect. Killing him now might not accomplish anything; there were plenty of insane Grimleal priests who could fulfill his role, so he was hardly unique.

As I neared the valley in which the Shepherds had made camp for the night upon their return to the mainland, the scent of foulness pervaded the air once more. I was all but certain that there were Risen in the area, and likely a sizable force of them. The enemy had already demonstrated their ability to control the undead, and Validar attempting to kill Chrom and his companions immediately after striking a deal with them seemed perfectly in character. But unless Destin had changed a great deal in two years, I rather doubted that the Shepherds would be caught unprepared.

I'd caught myself thinking of the mysterious tactician too often for my own comfort. It wasn't anything deliberate, but when I let my mind wander it tended to dwell on him. Him knocking me out of the way of an assassin's blade the night of the foiled attempt on the Exalt's life; him forcibly dragging Chrom out of certain death after Emmeryn's fall; the way he'd humiliated Gangrel in single combat before fate had conspired to grant Chrom the chance for vengeance. Yes, I'd revisited those moments more than I probably should have.

Unpleasant thoughts had cropped up as well, and one in particular was like a festering sore on my mind. My father had been killed by a close friend in my future, and in the present he had no friends closer than Destin. What if the reason I had never met Destin in my time was because he was the one who had betrayed Chrom to his death?

Yet the more I thought about it, the less sense it made. My father and Destin were as close as brothers – so why would Destin betray him? What could possibly go so wrong between them that it would end in Chrom's death? It seemed inconceivable unless everything Destin had done so far in this time was merely an act designed to catch my father off guard at the proper moment, and I rather doubted that. The look of helplessness I had seen in his eyes my first night in this timeline had been genuine.

All the same, I couldn't dismiss the notion entirely. I hated to doubt him, but my knowledge of the future singled him out as the most likely suspect.

A sudden gut instinct that told me to duck saved me. The familiar sound of an arrow in flight swished where I'd been standing as I rolled forward and came to my feet with Falchion drawn. A Risen swordsman charged out of the darkness at me with a sweeping slash aimed at my head. I deflected it to one side with my own blade and followed up with a two-handed thrust into his chest. Even as he began to dissolve I pivoted and placed his body where I had just been – and a heavy steel axe thudded into him from the other side. No one ever said Risen were team players.

I withdrew Falchion and rushed the second undead warrior, knowing that there was an archer out there readying a second shot. I was much more exposed than I would have liked, so it would be best to get rid of the axe wielder quickly. He clumsily parried my first strike, but I twisted into a second slash that slid over his weapon and decapitated him. I dropped to the ground along with his head and another arrow swished over me.

I'd gotten a good enough look at that one to see where it had come from. I surged to my feet and into the darkness behind a stand of trees. The Risen archer was still nocking a third arrow when I caught him with an overhand slash. He joined the other two as naught but purple dust on the wind.

A moment to catch my breath and think didn't bring any more attackers. I was certain that those weren't the only Risen here, and that I wasn't their target. If there was a main force of the undead, it was probably attacking the Shepherds' camp. No doubt they were capable of handling themselves, but tonight I wouldn't simply observe. The time for that had passed.

Rallying cries and the sounds of battle began rising from just over the next ridge. I paused at the top to take stock of the situation, though my vision was limited in the darkness. It seemed the Risen had already surrounded the valley. Undead archers, many of them wielding larger and more powerful longbows, maintained a barrage of arrows aimed towards the valley floor. Assuming the Shepherds were still down there, it wasn't a good position for them.

One of the longbow archers was standing only a few feet below the ridge I was standing on, oblivious to my presence. A quick leap and a thrust of Falchion brought him down, but also alerted the other Risen. I darted back into the cover of the forest with several of them in hot pursuit. Once I was out of the range of the archers, I turned on them and quickly dispatched them. These Risen employed more complicated tactics than they'd ever used in my time, but they weren't any stronger individually. I'd improved my skill in two years' time, and they had remained the same.

I stalked across the sides of the battlefield, striking like lightning any time I found a clump of isolated Risen before retreating to the safety of the trees. I couldn't tell exactly how things were going, but it was fairly clear that the ambush had turned. The Shepherds had extricated themselves from the valley, and were now advancing up either side of the cliff. Now that they had control of the fight, the Risen had little chance. It was simply a matter of hunting them down.

At the other end of the valley, I found that a narrow stone walkway had been built across it. A massive figure stood atop it; the undead warrior must have been eight feet tall, and had a two-handed axe to match. Risen didn't truly have leaders, but I had found that groups of them were often centered on one unusually powerful fighter. It was similar in a way to warrior societies like that of Regna Ferox. This had to be the 'chief' of this group.

I debated trying to take him out myself, but before I came to any decision voices reached me from down the path. I hid behind a tree, and moments later Chrom and Destin walked past me to where the giant Risen was waiting. They both had their swords drawn and looked a tad rumpled, if not wounded, though I could only see their backs from where I was standing. Destin whistled softly at the sight of the chief.

"I'd say that's our man right there," he said to Chrom.

"The leader, huh? If we take him out then it'll be easy to mop up the rest."

"I would have preferred Validar himself, but I suppose this fellow will do. There's only room on that walkway for one of us. Flip for it?" At Chrom's grunt of assent he produced a gold coin from his coat and tossed it into the air before snatching it on its way back down. "Crown. All yours."

My father strode onto the stone walkway, Falchion held at the ready. The ensuing duel between him and the Risen chief was more a contest of will and brute strength than anything. They continually clashed their weapons against each other as if trying to break their opponent down through sheer determination. Chrom landed several hits on the Risen while taking none himself, but the giant was still standing.

A powerful strike from the Risen knocked Chrom off balance, but as he raised his axe to take advantage a strong gust of wind materialized in front of him and knocked him backwards. Further, the Risen chief's axe slipped out of his hands and off the walkway. He still tried to hammer Chrom with his powerful fists, but without a weapon it wasn't long before my father managed to impale him with Falchion. The Risen seemed to be trying to raise his hand for one more punch, but he dissolved midway.

Chrom walked back to where Destin was waiting without looking back. "Nice shot," he said.

"Didn't fancy explaining to Sumia why you came back without a head," Destin replied sarcastically. They both began walking back down the path that would lead them to their companions.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were afraid of my wife," Chrom said.

"We're talking about a woman who decked you full in the face because you were acting a little depressed."

"Point taken."

Silence reigned in the night, and I believed that the danger had ended. But I still felt restless. It was as though I could sense another presence out there in the darkness, though a swift examination of the moonlit forest revealed nothing. Destin and my father passed my hiding place and were a few steps down the hill when the sense of wrongness peaked. I felt exactly the same as I had in the instant before an assassin had rushed Chrom the night of the attempt on Emmeryn's life. But I couldn't find even a slight hint that would reveal an enemy…

…because there wasn't one. A dark-clothed Risen materialized from thin air behind Chrom. I lunged forward the moment I realized what was happening, but the assassin was so much closer than I was.

"Father!" I shouted unthinkingly, desperate to warn him of the danger.

Chrom turned at the sound of my voice to find a dagger descending on him. He shifted barely enough so that it was the assassin's arm that collided with his shoulder rather than the knife. The force still knocked him back, open for a second strike.

I arrived then, launching into a wide slash that curved around the assassin's body and severed the hand holding his dagger. The Risen drew a second one and began a thrust at Chrom, but I took that hand off as well. There was little the assassin could do to prevent my third swing, which passed through his chest and dissolved him. Panting slightly, I returned Falchion to its sheath and looked up as Chrom got to his feet.

"I do believe she's getting good at this, Chrom," Destin remarked, removing the hand he'd placed on the hilt of his sword.

The moonlight wasn't much to see by, but it was enough to make out the details of the two men's faces. Chrom looked pretty much the same as he had during the war, but Destin was just a little different than he had been two years ago. His features had matured, refined slightly. There was no longer any doubt in his eyes; it seemed that he had found his place in life. Whatever it was, I couldn't help but stare for a moment.

"You just called me 'father'," Chrom said slowly.

It took me a moment to tear my gaze back to him and remember that I'd yelled that. Well, I'd already decided that the masquerade was done anyways, and this was as good a moment as any.

"Umm… could we speak… privately?" I asked.

"I think that would be for the best," Chrom said. He turned and nodded to Destin, who threw off a lazy salute and then took up a sentry position. My father and I walked a short ways into the dark forest, into a small clearing in which the moonlight pooled.

"Now then…" I began. "This… should help explain things, I think." I walked to one side and then turned so that my left eye was clearly visible to him.

He took one look at it and paled slightly. "That's the Brand of the Exalt," he breathed. Another slight shock seemed to run through him. "Lucina…"

A similar shock ran through me. I had no memory of my father ever calling me by my name before – I'd been too young. That he did so now… I fought back tears. I needed to be strong, as always. My father needed my support, not my problems.

Chrom's gaze drifted down to the hilt of Falchion protruding from my scabbard. "You deserved better from me than one sword and a world full of troubles," he said, shaking his head sadly. "I'm sorry." His voice was thick with emotion.

I could feel myself slipping as well. I had lived my life putting up a strong front for others, never allowing even my friends to see just how much I really felt. But in the face of my father's quiet apology, a crack appeared in that front. I knew somehow that I could trust him with anything, and that I didn't have to pretend I wasn't hurting inside for his benefit. The thought that I could allow myself to really feel for just a moment and relieve even a little of the sorrow I'd locked away inside brought the tears that trickled out of my eyes.

My father reached up with one hand and gently brushed my tears away. It was too much for me; my walls broke and emotion overtook me completely.

"Father!" I cried happily as I threw my arms around him. He gently embraced me, guiding my face into his shoulder. I let myself cry awhile longer, content to be held.

This was what I had been missing for so long without ever realizing it. My memories of Chrom holding me when I was a baby were so hazy they really weren't anything more than feelings, but I had known those feelings. In the years since then, my life had taken so many twists that I had needed just this – someone to hold onto, someone who couldn't be swept away by the sheer depth of my despair.

I didn't let everything go. There was far too much, and crying it all out would've taken me the rest of the night. But this was enough.

"Better?" Chrom asked softly when I had finished crying. I turned my face and nodded silently. He sighed.

"I know you have a lot more than that to get off your chest, but I think we should find Sumia first. If what you have to tell me is half as bad as I think it's going to be, it's best that you only have to explain it once."

I blinked at that and then nodded again. He was entirely correct. Telling the whole story of how my future had come to be was going to be hard enough for me to do once, and my mother did deserve to know. Since I was joining the Shepherds properly, there was no hiding who or what I was.

We broke our hug and then headed back up to the path. Destin was still standing there surveying the valley, whistling a cheery tune to himself. He turned slightly at our approach.

"Good timing," he said. "If we were out much longer I think they'd have come looking for us, orders or no. I assume we're heading back?"

"Yeah," Chrom replied. "But I don't think we're getting much sleep tonight. We… need to talk. Me, you, Sumia, and… her."

Destin shrugged carelessly. "I can catch up on my rest during the journey back to Port Ferox. This must be important, and I think I can already guess some of what's going to come out. I hope Sumia doesn't take it too badly."

I stirred a little at that. Did he already know who I was and how I'd come here? I suppose he'd heard me call Chrom father as well, and it wouldn't be too hard to put the pieces together. Still, it was awfully fast for him to have guessed all of that.

The first camp the Shepherds had pitched tonight had been located on the valley floor before it had been ruined by the Risen attack. A second one had since been erected at the open end of the valley, though it was a rather makeshift affair. They weren't taking any chances in case there were more Risen. With the number of sentries out, it seemed like we weren't the only ones who wouldn't be getting much sleep.

Destin jogged down to the camp ahead of my father and I. He gave a few terse orders to the handful of Shepherds who gathered around him. They quickly dispersed and found others who were on guard to pass the word.

"All quiet here, it seems," the tactician said when we walked up behind him. "They threw everything into the first assault. We only have one tent large enough for four of us that survived the attack in one piece; it's already set up and presently empty. Sumia should be joining us shortly."

"Efficient as ever," Chrom remarked. "Let's go, then."

We filed into the wide beige tent tiredly, settling ourselves down beside the lit brazier in the center of the floor. I guess I should have realized that keeping myself alert and fighting Risen throughout the night with little rest would exhaust me, but I couldn't afford to doze off just yet.

My mother entered a minute or two after we did. Her eyes went first to Chrom, reassuring herself that he was unhurt. Then they settled on me. She started intently at me, as though she was looking for something.

Chrom cleared his throat. "Sumia," he said. "This is Lucina."

"Lucina? But…" I tilted my head slightly so that my Brand was visible to Sumia, and she gasped. "Y-you really are Lucina! But how?"

"I… came here from another time," I said carefully. "From a ruined future devoid of hope. Yes, I'm the same daughter that's waiting for you back in Ylisse. I came back to this time with the help of Naga, hoping to change history."

"Oh my…" Sumia murmured. "Lucina… my daughter…" Words seemed to fail her then. Instead, she stumbled forward and pulled me into a tight embrace. I hugged her back without hesitation. I had more than just vague memories of my mother, but I still missed her fiercely.

We pulled apart after a long moment. Sumia sniffed, wiping tears away from her eyes. I had managed to regain enough control over myself not to cry, though somehow I felt as though I should.

With all four of us settled on the floor, I slowly began to explain what I knew of the path that had led to this world's destruction. I didn't know everything, of course, but I had heard enough from surviving witnesses to know what the key events were. The others listened in silence for the most part, only making sounds of dismay at some of the worst parts of the tale. My story dragged long into the deep hours of the night, my voice going nearly hoarse by the end with the strain of talking – and the pain of remembering all that had been lost.

Though I revisited memories filled with despair, in my mind a shining ray of hope remained steadfast in its brilliance. My faith had been dimming of late, but in the wake of this night's events I found it stronger than ever. I took heart from the raw sympathy and concern painted on the faces of my parents and Destin. To know that there were others at my side meant more than I could express.

I had been struggling by myself for too long. Everyone needed support in their times of darkness, and my support was right here in the company of the Shepherds. My memories of a world of death could haunt me all they liked, and I would continue forward.

I was no longer alone, and that was all that mattered.