Foreword
Hello again! A friend of mine who I get to proofread my chapters frequently; requested this chapter, and of course I'm happy to oblige, I hope you enjoy!

(Phoenix Wright stuff) (OBJECTION!)

Diligence…
Almost a year had passed since the war against Plegia was over and even though peace had returned to Ylisse, most of the Shepherds still trained regularly under Frederick's scrutiny, in case of bandits, risen, or even any of Gangrel's splinter factions.

"Listen up!" The great knight bellowed. "It is apparent that only a few of you have learnt combat abilities, they are a great asset and can be the deciding factor in any encounter!" He pontificated before drawing a steel lance and facing an armoured training dummy. He inhaled deeply before calling out. "Luna!" He trusted the lance forward, as it shimmered with a clear light; which pierced through the armour cleanly, making its way out the other side.

"Pfft," Sully scoffed. "No disrespect Frederick, but can't anyone do that with enough power?" To Sully's credit, Frederick specifically could have pierced the armour without the use of Luna.

"Not likely." Erron spoke up.

"Care to explain, Erron?" The captain said with a hint of sarcasm.

"Sol, Astra and Luna." The nomad said, closing his eyes thoughtfully. "The Triad of Form."

"Oh…not many have read those texts." Frederick said, his eyes widening in surprise of Erron's knowledge.

"Sol is the aspect of the heart;" He said, ignoring Frederick. "The heart's convictions, realised as the blazing sun." He continued the explanation, closing down Frederick's argument. "Astra is the aspect of the body; giving the body freedom, to strike as fast as a star-storm." He said drawing his own blade as it lit up in a pale green light. "And Luna, the aspect of the mind; to remove the obstruction of armour from thought, making the strike's placement as clear as the light of the moon." He sheathed Hoissurā. "All different, yet similar."

"Well what about the others? Like Vengeance, Lethality and Ignis?" Robin said with interest, his right elbow resting on his left palm, with his hand on his chin.

"Vengeance and Lethality are quite different;" Erron said, opening his eyes. "Vengeance converts one's physical pain into power, very dangerous however, high risk of serious injury." His frankness stunned the other Shepherds. "Lethality is…not as simple." He scratched his head. "A brief moment of peerless vision; letting you see the most vital spot on an opponent, given any circumstance. The only problem; the user needs to be able to act accordingly, otherwise the skill is rendered useless."

"And Ignis?" The tactician questioned the nature of his own skill.

"Part of another triad, the Triad of Void; Ignis, Cataegis and…" Erron hesitated. "Tenebris…" All three weren't well documented, as in their nature. "I know little of the three…Robin, you somehow used Ignis; a way of converting latent magical power into flame." A flame of sorts, more magic than flame…and the petals were unexplainable. "Cataegis allows one to tame the fury of a storm." The skill was linked to Hoissurā, but Erron had not yet managed to realise the blade's power. "And Tenebris…" The mention of the word made him hesitate slightly, for some reason. "Is a power…better left untouched." He said bitterly.

"How so?" The tactician questioned.

"…I'd rather not divulge." Erron replied, crossing his arms.

"Anyways…" Frederick said after clearing his throat to get the others' attention. "It would appear that you two already have some prior ability." He looked between the nomad and tactician. "Would you be so kind as to give instruction where you can?" Robin groaned at the tedium whilst Erron nodded silently.

Solace…
For Erron, teaching the other Shepherds was…not easy for him; his lacking social graces, his apathetic disposition and mainly because Astra was a byproduct of his training with Wei'lu; which he could not replicate given the…unorthodox methods of his mentor. So somewhat unceremoniously, he left the others as Frederick saw his inability as a teacher. Later that night he left the castle, which was a normality for him nowadays, he would find seclusion in any of the surrounding forests and practice Cataegis.

He stood out in a small clearing with his eyes closed, letting the wind blow dully through his hair, the only sound was the gentle rustling of the wind blowing through the trees. He pushed his slung left arm out of his haori, the empty sleeved half falling down to his side. Erron inhaled long and deeply and placed his left hand on the scabbard of Hoissurā and drew it slowly with his right, as he did so he exhaled a word rather than speaking.

"Cataegis." He finished the word at the same time the sword left its sheath, the wind stopped dead and dead silence resumed. He lightly swung the blade from right to left, as a gentle breeze followed it. He then brought it back in the other direction with a lot more force, causing a powerful gust to blow to the right. He ran his finger along the flat of the blade and smirked. (The blade whistled like the wind when it cut down the unjust…) His mentor's words came back to him. He then did a sequence of rapid swings as the wind howled and whipped around his form, he finished with another exhale and sheathed the blade slowly, as the wind died down and returned to its normal flow. Yet something gripped in his chest after he finished; the wind began to howl once more on its own accord, but it was much more violent this time, he clutched his head with his hands as a splitting pain coursed through his skull. He felt himself slip in and out of his consciousness, emotions swirling inside him; rage…sorrow…hate…longing…

"…Peace…" Erron double took as he heard that being 'said'. "Rest!" It returned, but more hollow voices were present, the wind screamed louder and harsher; it was the wind that was carrying the 'voice'.

"PLEASE!" Multiple screams pierced his ears they all shouted and pleaded with Erron for 'peace'. (W-what is…happening.) He fell to his knees and clutched his head tighter, as if to ring out the pleas from his mind. "WE BEG OF YOU!"

"What…" He spoke aloud, hoping to silence the voices. "Do you want!?" He shouted back into the night.

"SAVE US!" The sheer volume of the cry forced Erron to the floor as his skull rang. He forced his hands to the ground to support himself as his breath became fast and heavy. (What from?)

"Our past…our present…our future…" They didn't scream but every word stung with pain and sorrow. "End this cycle…" That phrase repeated over and over, maddeningly so. "FREE US FROM THIS SUFFERING!" The shouting cacophony of voices tore Erron's conscious from him. He slammed his right fist into earth and shouted.

"ENOUGH!" He cried out, the voices quietened, but not to his call. "Wha-" A power coursed through his clenched hand, he felt it surge through him, it was ferocious yet completely empty of intent. Erron remarked at his hand, which began to seemingly burn…in a dark-blue blaze; rippling the air with its presence, the power was dark and devoid, more so than whenever he lost control.

"Ahh, Tenebris." A human voice responded, it hissed and held an airy sarcasm to it. "And with you as its chosen, I had my doubts at first; but the darkness suits you, Ironblood." A circle of glyphs appeared a few feet away from Erron and in a flash of purple light, a slender man in sorcerer's robes stood before him.

"Y-you!?" Erron froze at the sight of the dark mage, he…was the one he killed at the royal castle, just before he joined the Shepherds. Yet he was very much alive and well, and also had both of his legs, contrary to their last encounter. "You died by my blade." He stood shakily to his feet and clenched his fist, dispersing the dark flames.

"That I did, but I was still of use to my master, so I was spared from the reaper's touch for as long as needs be." His voice was calm, eerily so. "As were you." He pointed at the nomad, as Erron began to chuckle hollowly.

"Voices in my head…" A wild grin stuck to his face. "…And now the dead speak to me." He laughed louder. "I suppose I truly have gone mad." His dry sarcasm shone through as usual.

"I am no more dead than you, Ironblood." That title grated at Erron.

"I've long since relinquished my ties to the Khans." His smirk faded and he placed his hand on Hoissurā's hilt defensively.

"Your band of idiots holds many recusants it would seem." The mysterious sorcerer laughed. "Yet I wonder…" He curled his fingers with a malicious smile. "What would they think of your alignment with the shadows?" Erron faltered momentarily, if Tenebris came to him then he would be seen as an enemy of Naga's will.

"I care not for their opinions." He half-lied.

"Such apathy…yet as I said…you were spared the grave; from your own suicidal 'protection'." The Grimleal man spoke with his own sarcasm. "That Pegasus knight must mean the world to you." He snidely remarked. Erron restrained his anger. "What if you were to hurt her?"

"I cannot…" The nomad began to rise to the sorcerer's biting words. "I will not…see her harmed."

"Can you be so sure?" He replied quickly. "You've lost yourself before-ah…no not 'yourself'…" The Grimleal's cryptic speech began to infuriate Erron. "You've let them fight your battles when you could not." Erron growled in response. "My words anger you…the truth can be a pain can it not?"

"Speak. Clearly." He snarled.

"Anything you have felt…ever since that oh so tragic day…was never your own emotion." This baffled the swordsman. "You think that your curse's only factor was a mere eye change? Have you not wondered why you are plagued by blind hatred? When you took up that blade in your father's stead, you sealed your fate; doomed to harbour the pain of those that have fallen because of that sword."

"I've got enough pain as is, thank you very much." He replied with sarcasm.

"Fool…hatred and loneliness was all you had before your kin were slaughtered." The dark mage spat at the nomad. "You are nothing more than a feckless husk! Hatred is your truth! Any joy or empathy you have 'felt' are memories of those of the blade!" Erron let the words settle in his mind. "Pathetic…you cannot even see this as your reality…"

"If I am to be honest…" Erron deadpanned. "…I often wonder…is my ruthlessness due to anger? Or is it a lack…of feeling?" He opened his hand and the blue flames danced in his palm once more. "…So if you speak truthfully, I am not surprised."

"So you see…" The mage smirked at the nomad. "Tenebris holds you, Ironblood." The magic glyphs circled the sorcerer and he disappeared in another flash of light.

"…Emotionless…" He whispered to himself as he gazed into his burning hand, he felt no pain, but he could feel the malicious power surge within him. (Tenebris…this power is corrupt…they mustn't know.) Tightening his fist and calming himself dissipated the blaze from his arm. He stood and contemplated on what just occurred before returning to the castle, his mind weighed down.

Returning to the castle he dismissed the guards who let him back in to the grounds, he paced through the halls with his thoughts heavy. Before he reached his own room, a light melody hung around his ears; a gentle harp was being played, at this time of night only one person would be playing. (…Cordelia…) He sighed as he passed her room and just waited outside and listened. The notes were despondent; holding no sorrow as they usually would, but the tune brought him peace. He debated knocking on the door and talking, but he hesitated heavily. (Would…) He stopped and hung his head. (Would I…ever hurt you?) Doubt forced its way back into his mind. (Whatever I said to comfort you…did I ever truly feel it?)

"I-" He halted. (…I won't burden you…you have enough to deal with…) As the harp stopped gently, Erron briskly walked away as quiet as he could and returned to his own quarters. Yet he would not sleep, he sat at the end of his bed and held his sheathed blade in his hands, it was aggravating him. (Hoissurā…'cut down the unjust'…that's a lie as well.) "This sword…this blood…what…am I?" He sighed deeply and placed the blade on his table. (This damn thing has caused enough suffering.) Erron sat for a few minutes thinking what he should do. (The Ironbloods…I need to speak with Basilio.) He wrapped his cloak around himself and took his bow and a quiver of arrows, yet he left Hoissurā on the table. (I don't need it anymore.) He took one last look around his room and left once more, except not leaving a letter, as he did all those years ago.

Closing Comments
First things first, I'm very sorry for not updating in OVER A MONTH! College booted back in and projects are taking time, so these chapters will be infrequent, hopefully not as bad as this one though. (Very sorry once again!) Also this chapter marks the end of the interludes! So we will be resuming main story events, yay! Thank you all for reading, leave reviews and stuff if you want, and have a lovely day! -Muffin

Extras
LATIN; WOO! Personally I always thought that the skills that characters could learn -Ignis, Aether, Lethality and whatnot- Needed a bit of clarification, so I decided to add my own thoughts on their nature. Since Sol, Astra, Luna, Aether and Ignis are all Latin names I decided to add some more, with Latin names; Cataegis and Tenebris meaning storm and darkness respectively, and the idea of the skills being linked into trios feels right to me, I dunno, anyways thanks for reading once again!