Chapter 12: Invaders

The day of the Rite of Rebirth came at once too soon and not soon enough. Too soon because he didn't feel at all ready to face the day when Lady Rhea might disappear, and not nearly soon enough because he was eager to hide away after Hilda had cornered him the day before.

Neither Claude nor Byleth believed that an assassination attempt was truly underway. They opted instead to believe that the threat was meant to be a distraction so that thieves may rob the Holy Mausoleum while Lady Rhea and the Knights of Seiros were gathered at the Goddess Tower. Cyril could hardly believe how lightly they were taking the threat, but neither could be swayed. They had at least allowed Cyril to guard Lady Rhea with the Knights of Seiros rather than forcing him to follow the rest of the Golden Deer to the Holy Mausoleum, but Cyril knew he was nothing compared to the professor when it came to a fight.

Lady Rhea believed so strongly in Byleth, and yet at a critical time, Byleth was not there.

His grip on his bow tightened as he surveyed the crowds gathered at the Goddess Tower. The church had thrown open its gates, and thousands upon thousands had gathered for the occasion, making the pilgrimage from all across Fodlan. In previous years, the sight of the crowds and the riverstream of light cast from their lanternglow was one that Cyril enjoyed observing from up in the rafters. This year, it only made him nervous.

Even so, Lady Rhea insisted on standing upon the platform and refused to allow the Knights of Seiros to obstruct her as she lead the prayer. The faithful were on their knees, backs straight and hands clasped.

"From the star that shines so above us now, the goddess, Sothis, once descended upon this continent," Lady Rhea said. Her voice was warmer than all the light of the lanterns and Cyril couldn't help but feel some of his anxieties soothed from the sound of it.

"She saw the destruction and chaos in the land and wept, for nothing could exist in such an accursed place. She breathed her purifying breath upon the land and gave what was barren, life. Lush forests, fertile fields, abundant wildlife—she gifted it all to the humans she created. All that her humans asked of her, she granted, and soon they were the most powerful creatures in Fodlan."

"When invaders poured into Fodlan from beyond, bearing the will of that which would desecrate all that the Goddess had created, she granted the strength for heroes to repel the evil threatening the lives of her faithful. The crests, the heroes relics; all were gifted to humanity."

"None received a greater gift than The King of Liberation. With the sword and crest crafted by the goddess, he drove the vile hordes from Fodlan and cast them back into the darkness from whence they came. The people of Fodlan were saved."

The atmosphere felt more fragile, more rigid, but Cyril was reminded of the founding festivals in Almyra. The centerpiece would always be a grand play about the hero king of Kamangir. He could no longer properly recall the details of the story, but he remembered that the king had fired an arrow with such power that it decimated the invaders that were threatening the existence of the five clans. The king disappeared after the arrow was fired, but the memory of that arrow united the clans into a nation. Even now, Almyra was gathered under a flag that bore an image of the final arrow.

Cyril supposed that would always be the same regardless of whether he was in Fodlan or Almyra. A hero king fending off invaders and giving hope to the people that the blessings of the land may yet remain theirs.

"But the goddess failed to consider that humans were too flawed to wield such gifts," Rhea continued, a rumble of shame and rage entering her voice. "The King of Liberation would turn his gift on the people of Fodlan and plunge the land into war. Although Saint Seiros was able to defeat Nemesis, the damage was done. The very gifts the goddess had granted humanity was used for destruction. Heartbroken, the goddess turned away from Fodlan and returned to the heavens."

There was quiet sniffling in the crowds, a contagious wave of despair and shame. Cyril thought he could see some of them shaking.

Lady Rhea dispelled it all with a gentle smile. "Still, the goddess watches over all, for her love for humanity was too great for her to abandon humanity completely, flawed as they were. Flawed, as we are. Her love surrounds us when a new breath of life is taken by one delivered safely into this world. Her love manifests in the fertile soil that yields all that we need to survive. Her love will receive us when we draw our last breath and return to her side."

"However, she will no longer alight in Fodlan until we have proven ourselves worthy of the love and devotion she has given us. So let us pray that with each passing day, we grow more aligned to her path, to her teachings, to—"

A messenger had run up to the platform. Lady Rhea continued to speak, but Cyril's attention snapped to the messenger immediately. Their shoulders were heaving from exertion as they whispered in Catherine's ear. Suddenly, Catherine's body went rigid, a flash of fury across her face. She motioned to a squadron of knights stationed at the fringes of the crowd surrounding the Goddess's Tower.

Cyril scrambled down from his perch and ran after the knights following Catherine. When he looked back, he could see Lady Rhea's gaze following after them, but she continued to speak to the crowd as if nothing had happened.

He recognized the path that they were taking. It would lead to the Holy Mausoleum where the Rite of Rebirth would end.

Claude and the professor had been right after all.