Chapter 85: Fever Dreams

By SodiumChlouride12, derived from Fire Emblem, owned by Nintendo.


King Desmond wandered through the manse, his posture stern and uncaring. He was looking for Prince Zephiel, his son and apparent heir to the throne. His voice boomed and echoed off the well-decorated walls as he called for him. "Where's Zephiel?"

As if on cue, Queen Hellene rounded the corner and found her husband standing in the manse's living room. She's wearing a beautiful, white dress that made her have the appearance of a peerless maiden. Her golden hair radiated with a grace rare among individuals, though this contrasted greatly with the icy look in her eyes. "Your Majesty...tis a pleasure to see you. What a glorious day that sees you grace us with your presence."

Desmond scanned the room for his son, stopping when realizing he's nowhere to be seen. "...Enough. Call the boy!"

A small smirk appeared on the Queen's face. "Your son is practicing his falconry."

"You knew I was coming, and yet you sent him away." Desmond crosses his arms over his chest in mild recognition of his wife's resourcefulness. "Hmph...As crafty as ever, woman. Very well, you will have to do. It's ten days until the boy's coming-of-age ceremony. I would speak of it."

The smirk on Hellene's face transformed into a noticeable smile. Despite her status as the legitimate spouse to the King of Bern, she'd been discarded long ago in favor for a mistress. The abuse in her life would have made any lesser person crack. Both she and her son were strong individuals. "At last… Once the ceremony ends, our son, so long lingering in the shadows, will be received by all as the legitimate heir to your throne. Do you know how he has longed for this day?"

Desmond glared at his wife. He wanted to say much to rebuke her, but his emotions stayed. "Cease your complaints. You and Zephiel, queen and heir of Bern, have never wanted for anything."

Hellene returned the glare and pointed her finger at her unfaithful husband. "We are here in this manse, while you live in the palace with…that woman. You must be so disappointed that she bore you not a prince but a princess."

The image of his daughter appeared in his mind. She was a small, adorable child with plump cheeks and beautiful golden hair. King Desmond loved her dearly, just as he did for her mother...

The mother was a woman named Catherine, a lowborn who used to take residence in the castle. Her mother was a court tutor in charge of Desmond's education at a young age, and as such, the two children spoke to each other often. Eventually, as the two grew older, they fell in love. Desmond wanted to marry her, and asked his father and court for permission to do so, but received a sharp rebuke. Instead, they forced him into marriage for political purposes, matching him with Hellene and producing Zephiel several years later.

Once Desmond ascended to the throne on his father's death, he immediately sent Hellene and her son away, and brought Catherine back to the castle. It was here where he intended to live happily with the love of his life, and he desired for his child with her to inherit his titles. But she gave him Guinevere, a girl. In Bern, a woman cannot inherit if she had an older brother, and the same court that prevented him from marrying Catherine would ensure that. This left him scheming up ways to change Zephiel's chances of inheriting, though Hellene stood in opposition to that.

He exclaimed, "Hellene! You go too far!"

Eager to have tapped into a kink in Desmond's armor, Hellene pressed forward. "My child, who through me carries the noble blood of Etruria in his veins, will in ten days be named as the right-born heir to the throne. Ha ha ha! No matter how you may dote on her, your illegitimate daughter, Guinivere, is destined to be nothing more than a baseborn shadow… It is my son who shall reign in Bern! My son, Zephiel! Ha ha ha ha ha! How it gives me such pleasure to say those words!"

Desmond waited for Hellene to finish. Once she did, he said, "Have you said your mind?" Then he smiled mischievously. "Well, I have something for you to hear as well."

Hellene paused, "...What could it be?"

Desmond replied coldly, "Last night, from the palace, the Fire Emblem was stolen away by some villain."

Hellene's eyes widen with shock. Her blood runs icy cold. "It can't be! …Ha ha ha. You are so wicked, Your Majesty. Pray tell, who would believe such a tale? The Fire Emblem is Bern's greatest national treasure. No gem in existence is its equal. Stealing such a heavily guarded object is impossible, is it not?"

Desmond masked the contentment in his voice. "Unfortunately, I speak true."

Hellene took a step back, using the wall to prevent herself from fainting. "No..."

"You know the importance of the Fire Emblem. It's the symbol of the heir, the heart of the ceremony. Without the Emblem, the ceremony must be canceled."

Hellene composed herself, and anger washed through her veins. "No! Thi-This was your doing, wasn't it? How can you despise Zephiel so? He is of your blood. He is your beloved son, is he not?"

Desmond thought of his son. A child...he envied more than anyone else. "I have heard that Zephiel is… a gifted student, a stunning fighter, excelling in all he tries. And I've also heard that he is much loved by the people."

"Yes! It is true. All of it! He is a worthy son."

Desmond balled up his hand, the leather in his gloves creaking from the force. This was the product of his own shortcomings, his insecurities brought upon meeting one's superior. "I…excelled at neither books nor blades."

"What do you–"

"I cannot say that I command the love of my subjects… Zephiel and I are opposites in every way. It is hard to believe that he is my son."

Hellene felt her composure sway again. Her fears were confirmed true. Between Zephiel's superior traits, and Desmond's jealousy, he thought Zephiel could not be his son. Despite their cold relationship, Hellene had been raised among parents close with the Church of Elimine. She would never cheat on her husband; the night she shared with him on their wedding night proved to be her only time.

Hellene exclaimed, "Zephiel is Your Majesty's child! Your Grace, you know this is truth!"

Desmond shook his head. "Mine or not, without the ceremony… He will not be named heir. Mark my words, and prepare yourself, woman."

Desmond turned to walk away, and Hellene collapsed onto the ground in despair. She extended her hand towards him in a vain attempt for him to see reason. "Your Majesty! King Desmond! Please… Please wait! He is your heir! Your son! Please… What am I to do? Zephiel…"

A servant approached her. She bowed out of respect to her liege. "I beg your pardon, Your Highness. You have a visitor…"

Tears streaming down her face, Hellene sent her away. "I will see no one. Send him home."

"Your Highness, I…"

!

A voice appeared out of nowhere. It carried a tone Hellene had not heard in many years. "It's all right. You may go. I will take care of this."

"Yes, my lady."

Hellene looked up, eager to find the source of this familiarity. "Who?"

To her surprise, Louise took a knee beside her, and placed her hand tenderly on Hellene's back. "Lady Hellene, it's been far too long. It is I, Louise."

"Louise!? Is it truly you? Ah… Louise…"

"What is it? Your eyes are so red. It's a shame to see such beauty marred by tears."

"There is something… I…"

"If it pleases you, I would like to hear your troubles. My husband is here with me. Perhaps he will be able to lend you his aid."

"Lord Pent is also here? I see… … …To be honest…"


Several days later...

Ugh...I feel terrible.

Samuel opens his eyes, his body aflame with a sickness he'd never experienced before. Resetting his vision past some fog, he realizes he's inside the medical tent of camp. He's alone with whom he assumes to be Priscilla, though, her form is blurry due to his weakness. She's busy discarding some red...icky substance from a bucket. It takes a second for Samuel realize it's a combination of his blood and bile.

Samuel says, "Ah...where...am I? Oh my...I feel...so bad..."

Priscilla notices the consciousness of her patient, and she approaches to place a wet, clean rag on his forehead. This does much to ease the fever in his head, though only for a moment.

She says, "It would appear you've come upon a gasp of sanity. You were just vomiting a minute ago. Rather nasty, I would say."

"...Wha—?"

Priscilla chuckles, "Seeing you so vulnerable like this is a rarity. Even when you were bound to a chair, you still wielded the vigor of a lion. Now, you're barely capable of taking care of yourself. I'll make sure to omit this detail from your fiance. It would break her heart."

"...Okay..."

Samuel looks down at his arm, to his shock, her realizes the initial mound of flesh had multiplied to cover the entirety of his limb. No...not just that. His entire body has scabs that wish to be scratched, but cannot due to Samuel's weakness. It feels like a fire unable to be extinguished.

"...Ah...oooh. Wait...aren't I contagious? Priscilla...you shouldn't be treating me without some gloves."

Priscilla smiles and lifts her hands to reveal thick, leather gloves. Underneath them, he also notices a small scar he hadn't seen before, which took the form of a circle. "You musn't worry about me. I'm protecting myself, and I've dealt with the disease at hand recently. I'm immune to the disease. But...thanks for showing concern."

Samuel breathes a sigh of relief. "I see...ah! Gosh...I feel so bad! Priscilla...is there anything you can do?!"

Priscilla nods her head, and then goes over to a nearby table to fetch a tonic. She pours the liquid onto a spoon, which took on a brown hue in color. She then comes over to Samuel and puts it in his mouth. The liquid tastes terrible, but immediately after, a sudden drowsiness begins to take hold.

Samuel mutters, "What...was that? Ah...I'm so sleepy. I'm about to pass out...am I?"

"Yup. Sleep well, tactician. The dreams this thing produces are vibrant and deep. Hope you don't have a nightmare."

Samuel yawns, and darkness surrounds him. He manages one statement before passing into slumber. "Please...don't let anyone visit me. I don't...want...to hurt anyone."

"Of course. Your wish is my command..."


?...

Blimey...I'm dreaming again.

Samuel taps his wrist, unsurprised when he feels a numbing sensation travel up his arm. Looking around, he realizes he's in a space of darkness. There's nothing to be seen for miles. Absolutely nothing but the cold, endless expanse of the void.

Heh...I guess I'm going to be here for a while. Hmm...since I'm aware...I wonder if I can control it?

Samuel closes his eyes and tries to picture himself standing in a lake. He recalls a memory taking him back to the cold, beautiful waters of Ilia. Back when he took that fishing trip with Canas. He brushes the sky the same tint of lively blue, and inserts puffy clouds of white over the sky. He strokes in rugged, rocky mountains that resemble ancient monoliths from a bygone era. He brings the isolated pockets of snow that litter the ground during summer. Then, he imagines his scholarly friend, a terrible fisherman despite his long years in the nation of ice.

Samuel opens his eyes, and to his disappointment, none of what he'd created had come to bear. There are no endless blankets of white as the stillness of its opposite stays true. Disappointed, Samuel sighs and scratches the bottom of his stubbled chin.

Bummer. What to do? For all I know, this could be my last moments alive. Smallpox is no disease to laugh at, it kills a decent amount of healthy people. But...I'm bored.

"Hello, Master! What a stupendous, awfully unpredicted encounter this is!"

Samuel turns around and finds a small, furry animal floating through space. It has a brown coat, and a protruded, adorable snout. It's the ferret that Samuel had seen long ago in one of his delirious dreams, the one he called Phileas. His little feet squirm as he tries to move through the vacuum of his dream, a vain attempt despite his motor skills.

Feeling pity for the animal, Samuel reaches out to grab Phileas from his vulnerable position. His fur feels comforting to touch, and he has to restrain himself to not squeeze the warm ferret in his grasp. "Phileas...pleasure to see you again (oh, your fur!). What brings you here, oh consciousness of mine?"

Phileas is the physical manifestation of Samuel's consciousness. He only appears when his mental state had reached a point of weakness, whether it be through delirium, a breakdown, or some other similar situation. In this case, Samuel's mind isn't completely itself because of the mixture of sickness alongside the effects of the medicine. His delirious mind had made it possible for Phileas to visit him again.

Phileas purrs as he lays his head on his handler's shoulders. From this vantage point, Samuel notices his nose is dryer than the last time he'd seen him. He replies, "Why ask such a thing? Have I not been with you always, Master?"

Oh, that's right. Samuel remembers. Phileas can only recall things in the present. Samuel discovered in his last encounter that Phileas had the memory of a single-celled organism. Or rather, hardly any. He finds this intriguing due to Phileas' grip with language. If his memory held true consistently, he'd be unable to communicate with him. Yet, here he is, with an impeccable grip on his tongue.

Samuel opts to keep this to himself, as creating a paradox for Phileas might cause him to stop speaking entirely. Instead, he pursues something else. "Perhaps you have. Regardless, how are you feeling? Last time I saw you, you had a cyst underneath your paw."

Confused, Phileas replies, "I've never had such a thing on my being." He shuffles his body to show Samuel his feet, and sure enough, it's not there. "But...I do feel a bit ill. I think I have some illness in my system at the moment. Do you have any answer for this, Master?"

"...Hmm." Samuel doesn't know for sure. But, if his intuition is any good, he assumes his real life illness has something to do with it. If Phileas is an extension of his consciousness, then it wouldn't be far-fetched to say something like Smallpox, which in its latter stages could prove detrimental to the body, and by proxy, the brain. This raises the concern that Samuel might already be at the point where his body is shutting down, though for the sake of his sanity, he chooses not to think about it too much.

"Achoo!" Phileas sneezes. This brings Samuel out from his previous thought, though at first, he doesn't notice the air change around him. Instead, he pats the head of his consciousness, wary to not make him feel too uncomfortable. Samuel says, "Oh my...I wish there was something I could do for you. But, my health is out of my hands. I'm at the mercy of my friends...we both are."

"...I do not blame you. My sources tell me you were in close proximity with many humans, of whom have all survived a dangerous disease at some point in their lives. After enough time...the volatile virus mutated to be caught by you. It's a rare phenomenon, really. The odds of this happening to you...are nearly zero when accounting for statistical error."

Samuel stops petting the ferret and stares down at him with disbelief. "Excuse me? Can you repeat that?"

"Did I say something? Master, why don't you pet me? I'm rather tired...achoo!"

The air changes again, and this time Samuel notices the distortion. Colors swirl with the darkness, and gradually, Samuel feels something solid form under his feet. Before Samuel can ask what's going on, a sudden tremor takes hold of his reality. A line of metal bars emerges from the ground, shooting up to slam into a solid ceiling above. A small, albeit present light appears some distance away, radiating a yellow aura similar to candlelight. Three cobblestone walls close in on his person, and before long, Samuel finds himself in a prison cell. Within seconds, a pair of chains spontaneously appear on his feet, restraining his movement with respect to the floor.

What the—

Samuel looks down to his arms for Phileas, but to his shock, the ferret is gone. Instead, he appears to be restrained in a vaguely familiar room. It reminds him of one such place he'd been in recently, though his mind cannot determine why. Shifting his gaze, he notices two men had been standing in front of him, as if waiting for him to wake up. Peering through the dim light, Samuel realizes he recognizes them. They're Kishuna and Piret.

This place...I'll be damned. I'm back in Kishuna's underground desert temple, prior to my escape. Why am I here? Is this some weird fever dream?

Piret speaks, his voice sounding cold and unfeeling. "You're awake. My Master wishes to speak with you, using me as a medium. Choose your words carefully, fellow homunculus. We've had our eye on you for some time, and if you lie, you will be punished."

Samuel opens his mouth to rebuke, but to his further astonishment, he finds nothing comes out. Then, he tries to move his legs, if anything, to shuffle the chains underneath him. Somehow, he'd lost complete control to his body. He acts without will, despite his soul fighting for the contrary.

He says, "I've been wanting to speak to you for a while, Kishuna. I have many questions for you, if you'll entertain me."

Despite his body having a mind of its own, at very least, he is still king of his mind. These words...they're the same as the ones I used when speaking with Kishuna and Piret. Is this...a recollection? What type of fever dream is this?

It's at this moment that Samuel realizes it's just that. His mind had decided to dream about his time as Kishuna's prisoner. He'll have no power over himself, and will only be along for the ride.

Piret says, "This is a mutual arrangement. We have questions about you, as you do for us. My Master believes in equal trades, so we will only answer questions in equivalence to your own. That is the sole rule of our interaction, other than the understanding that we mean you no harm."

Samuel nods his head in agreement, allowing him to continue. "Very well, we will begin with the proceedings. Tell me, Samuel. How is your health faring? Do you believe you have the strength to carry on with your journey?"

Samuel considers the question, noting the injuries all throughout his body. Nergal's torture had damaged him tremendously. He'd broken several ribs, fractured his skull, punctured several arteries, lacerated several organs, and destroyed both of his kneecaps. But Kishuna had afforded him several elixirs for his health, and although the strength is diminished because of his biological composition, he feels much better than he had before. "My health, is questionable but improving. But uh...(I don't think I'll talk about that...it's really gross). Anyway, I can't walk. I think I can put something together if you'll allow me for it...but do you have anything that can heal me?"

Piret takes one good look at his legs. Samuel's standing, but it appears like a single gust of wind could tip him over. Despite that, he gets no sympathies. "No...unfortunately no such magic exists. You may not be able to walk ever again. But, I take you have no intention in letting that stop you in your goal? To return to the army, and continue aiding them?"

Samuel nods silently. Piret continues, "You really are a stubborn one. Anyway, you've answered two of our questions, and I've answered one of yours. What's on your mind?"

Samuel closes his eyes and ponders. His first thought goes back to an incident in Ilia. The very thing that catapulted his return to the battlefield in the first place. "Back in Ilia...the village Hoger. I should have been killed by Nergal's group...but I didn't. I woke up the next morning feeling okay...without a scratch on me. You mentioned earlier that you were involved in that. What...did you do?"

Kishuna pauses for a moment, recalling the events of that day. The very around him drops in temperature, and for a second, Samuel swears to see his breathes become visible from condensation. But this passes quickly. He opens his eyes, and places his hands on Piret's shoulder, as if transmitting a message telepathically.

Piret says, "Kishuna sensed that you were in danger, by means he would rather not dwell into. All you really need to know is that...the two of you share similarities. Anyway, he sent a group of powerful warriors to intercept Nergal's group before they could deal the final blow. Despite their strength, all they could do was fend them off until the fled due to creating a commotion. They wished not to reveal themselves, you see. After that, the group healed your wounds with an elixir and left you there to wake the following morning."

Samuel thinks about what the morph has just told him. An elixir. That explains the dried blood on my shirt, but no wound. There's no reason to think he's lying to me either. Perhaps I should have tested his truthfulness by cross-examining his testimony with something I know to be true.

Samuel opens his mouth to speak, but Piret raises his finger to silence him. "You've answered two of mine, and I've answered two of yours. Now, onto the next detail in our agenda. Why...is it you've infatuated yourself with that...princess? The woman named Lyndis...the Lorcan with mixed heritage?"

Samuel raises his brow, defensive by the butler's wording. That description makes it sound like having mixed heritage is a drawback. I don't think he meant it that way...so I'll let it slide. Then he thinks back on his beloved. The person who he'd, at least partially, died for in his previous timeline. "Lady Lyn...from the Lorcan tribe. Yes...she's amazing. She's so kind, considerate, and an entertaining person to speak to. I trust her to speak about my problems, as she likewise does towards me. She's...so dedicated, too. Half of my interests don't align with hers, but I'll be damned if I don't feel the need to follow her. I'm not that ambitious of a person on my own, but when I'm with her...I feel like I reach a ceiling higher than the stars. To answer your question...that's the reason I love her. I'd do anything for her...and more importantly, she'd do anything for me."

Kishuna's unphased by Samuel's statement, but Piret's aura noticeably changes, if only a little. This surprises Samuel, as he'd assumed that only he and Kishuna were the only morphs capable of feeling emotion. Was...that a hint of admiration I saw? Or...did I imagine it?

Piret clears his throat. "In that case...that changes things. We expected you to form a closer relationship with Florina, as our research suggested you would. We need to speak about—"

Samuel steps forward, but because of his lame knees, he ends up falling. The crash causes Piret to pause, but Samuel speaks from his position on the ground. "Wait...what's this about Florina? Are you suggesting that I choose her over Lyn? What type of...messed up game is this?! Florina is my friend...I could never see her that way!"

Kishuna chuckles, but can do nothing else. Piret replies, "You can see it that way, you are entitled to your own opinion. For your question...Master, can you retrieve your watch?"

Kishuna obliges and reveals a silver watch in his possession. It's case is tarnished from wear, and its time hands were still, as if frozen in time. Samuel stares at it with disbelief. Had he not given his watch to Laniakea, he would have taken it out right now. The resemblance...is so uncanny. Perhaps...to similar to be a coincidence. Samuel's eyes widen with intrigue.

"Is that...?"

"Indeed, it an exact copy of the timepiece you've had in your possession since the beginning of your journey. You see, you're not the only one who had the privilege of traveling to the past hoping to cheat fate. My master here...shares that with you."

Samuel's brain melts as a flurry of questions fill his mind. What?! How can that be?! Kishuna...has been traveling through time too?!

Piret continues, "Unlike you, where your watch had one charge to work with, my Master had many. Six hundred and sixty-six to be exact. In those iterations, my Master was in the same position as you. A tactician in an army working to save the world."

The same position as...me?! Samuel looks down on his hands, and then at his captors. That begs the question...is he...?

As if reading his mind, Piret says, "No, Kishuna is not you, at least not in a literal sense. Many timelines ago, Kishuna was brought into this world just like any morph. He was created by Nergal in his lair, the first, successful creation to possess emotions."

He walks closer to his cell and taps on the metal bar. The sound rings through the room like a bell. "Of course, Nergal expected such things. He was a genius, and his studies suggested that if he mixed in a soul with his standard morph creation procedure, he'd create one with emotion. It's common knowledge that emotions come from the soul. He ordered his creation to do his bidding. But...there was one thing he did not suspect."

Piret balls up his fist. "Kishuna...discovered he did not like to kill humans, or bring about any unnecessary suffering. It came when he was told to eliminate a tribe of nomads in Sacae. Rather than oblige him, Kishuna instead realized his master's evil. By then, he'd recovered his memories from his old life, a Carazanite named Nomine Dei. He used this newfound identity to further his vision, and he embarked in a crusade to eliminate Nergal..."

"...The first leg of his journey went along much like yours. Eager to find a companion to aid him in his quest, he travelled to Sacae hoping to find Lady Lyn, who's parents were murdered in part by the dark sorcerer, but was accosted by some bandits and given amnesia. He then went along with all the events you had, up to the point of climbing Mt. Merki. However, while you had encountered the ghost of a mysterious maiden, Kishuna, instead, found Sothis. She awarded him two watches, both with the ability to turn back time, but one contained six hundred and sixty-six charges, while the other only had one..."

"...Sothis told Kishuna she would join him on his journey, but warned that the two watches worked independent of one another. He could not turn back time on one and expect to get it back by using the other. With that in mind, Kishuna stored the identical, one charge watch in his possession for a desperate time. Then, Kishuna embarked on the next stage of defeating Nergal..."

"...Despite his newfound power, Kishuna discovered something very quickly. His time traveling ability held restrictions, brought upon the goddess of fate and order, Ashera. Certain events, like the genocide of the Lorcan tribe, and his amnesiac state upon meeting with Lyn, could not be avoided. Any attempts to change this brought upon Ashera's wrath, whether it be indirectly by an enemy's sword, or directly with a heart-attack. Thus, Kishuna found he had to somehow achieve victory over a powerful enemy without angering the goddess..."

"...This proved impossible. Every new strategy, every new advantage gained with each subsequent timeline would be gashed with a brutal rebuke by fate. Kishuna tried everything, up to using all but one of his charges. By then, his body had deteriorated much, and a distortion in the watch had turned him into a magic seal. When he spawned for the final time, Nergal found him revolting and rejected him, a devastating change of events for him..."

"...Kishuna...was desperate. This was his last chance to save the world, and now, he was in uncharted territory. But, he found a loophole in this predicament. If he successfully trick Ashera into thinking he was following the proper flow of events, he could return to familiarity. So, he created a morph, myself, to infiltrate Nergal's ranks, and I convinced him to create another morph with similar qualities as he. Of course, this had its own drawbacks since Nergal would restrict this being's free will, but Kishuna had no other choice. Nergal then created you, the second and perfect version of his experiment in his eyes. Kishuna then disappeared into the void for some time, away from Ashera's all-seeing eyes. After some time, he disappeared from her sight entirely, and he became free to roam the earth as he wished..."

"...Kishuna deduced from his previous lives that Ashera would realize you were going down a path that would not result in you meeting Lyn in Sacae. So, she made it so. She indirectly made Hussar hurt you in a way that allowed you to break from Azazel's influence and had you travel north to Ilia. Afterword, you came back down with the very same mission as Kishuna, but predictably suffered through the same attack. In your comatose state, I implanted memories of you interacting with my Master, performed the ceremony to insert Sothis' presence into your mind, and put the second timepiece in your possession. Everything else, as they would say, is history."

At the end of Piret's explanation, Samuel leans back on his tailbone. He's...utterly speechless. Where does he even begin? He has more questions to ask now.

Pídete says, "Ahem. My Master has informed me for the sake of time, we will only allow you two questions more. You needn't respond to any more of our inquiries."

Samuel feels a drop of anxious sweat fall down the side of his face. He has much he wants to ask about, but he knows he has to choose his questions wisely. This would likely be the last time he'll have the opportunity to do so, since he planned to escape this prison tomorrow night. His mind devolves into a frenzy, but somehow, he picks a two questions from the mess.

"What's your plan this time? How do you intend to save the world?"

Piret pauses. Then he looks over at Kishuna, who only nods. He says, "...As you may already have deduced, we've spent six hundred and sixty-five timelines working with the lords. Rather than do that again, we've devised a different strategy. We want to kill them."

Samuel nearly jumps up, but his legs force him to stay put. He exclaims, "What?!"

"...Nergal wants to kill the army in part due to their abnormally large storage of quintessence. Rather than let this resource fall to him, we will use it against him. The reason we failed so many times was because of human error. Get rid of that element, and there's no way we can fail"

Samuel shakes his head ferociously. His head steams with anger. "How can you say that?! I don't think you realize the divine weapons that can defeat Nergal must be wielded by our soldiers? Morphs can't wield them!"

Piret chuckles, "Are...you sure about that? Or are you making up reasons for us to spare your friends? Regardless, morphs are close enough to humans that we may wield them as long as the morph is strong enough. Judging by their quintessence, we'll pass that threshold."

"...No! This is so messed up! How can you want to kill my friends!" He points his finger at Kishuna. "You! You said you fought with these people! How can you be so heartless?!"

Piret replies coldly, "Kishuna's seen every single one of his friends die many times now. Having it happen once more won't mean anything different for him."

Hearing that makes Samuel shut up. For a moment, he thinks back on his experiences. Many of them were horrible, like the time he accidentally killed Florina. Her cold, porcelain-like body still haunts him from time to time. But, there were also many good. Too many to count. He and Kishuna are clearly on two different levels...he can never hope to understand his mode of thinking.

Piret says, "Evidently, we've realized you are no use to us while your friends are still alive. We will keep you here until we harvest their quintessence and build the army. Then you will aid us in our mission."

"...I'll never help you. Slimy bastards."

"You say that now, but you will have reason. Lady Lyn may have much quintessence, but your niece does not. I'm afraid Nergal's taken much of hers already, to the point where extracting it isn't even worth it. Either you help us...or she dies."

Samuel gasps. He falls silent. All he wants to do is get out of here. Reunite with his friends...envelope himself in the grasp of his beloved again. Maybe then he could get in a better headspace than this, and figure out a way to save the world without killing nearly everyone he loves.

Piret says, "You are afforded one final question. Use it."

"...I heard Kishuna speak about democracy earlier. How do you intend to bring about that? His rant earlier put me under the impression he hopes to enact a violent takeover. But, breaking the people's belief in the royal's divine right to rule..."

Suddenly, Samuel feels a tug behind him. Before he can finish his sentence, light appears in front of him, blooming until it encapsulates his entire vision. He then feels a warmth that fills his soul with vitality...


Samuel opens his eyes, immediately noticing the light streaming in through a nearby window. He takes a moment to feel his surrounding. He's in a bed, flanked by light furnishings, giving off the impression of an inn room. Realizing he is no longer dreaming, Samuel exhales solemnly. That was a painful memory to recall, especially cause he felt so helpless and confused.

Darn...that was an experience. He thinks. Hope that doesn't happen again.

To his relief, he notices that the bulges of skin on his body had since subsided, still resembling a bump, but smaller. The fever had diminished as well. The most substantive symptom is the sheer exhaustion in his bones, making any motion feel like an utter chore.

Samuel's ears perk up when he hears a noise in front of him. It's the sound of two men talking to one another. Shifting his gaze, he recognizes one speaker as Lowen, while the other is a stranger with an axe and loose, purple hair. Both are sitting down next to each other on some chairs near the end of the room, too preoccupied with their conversation to notice Samuel's stirring.

Lowen says, "It's a pity they put us in this inn room with nothing to do. I know someone needs to watch over the tactician, but...there are a thousand things I'd rather be doing."

The stranger replies, "Same here, waiting can be quite the chore. Especially when everyone's fighting without us. That area's filled with lakes and marshes. It won't be an easy fight."

Hearing that causes the knight to lower his head. His eyes echo a sense of unease. "...I hope they'll be okay. I have a friend who won't be fighting...but I still worry for her."

"Hah! Have a little crush, don't you?"

Flustered, Lowen shakes his head frantically. "N-No! She's just a friend, I swear, Geitz. Nothing more, nothing less."

Geitz...Samuel thinks. I'll make sure to remember that.

Samuel finds it wise to make himself known. He says, "Hey, I'm awake."

Lowen and Geitz stop, first staring at each other, and then at Samuel. Their expressions make Samuel think they never expected him to wake up so soon. Lowen is the first to speak.

"Samuel! You're awake! Erm...how are you feeling? Any soreness?"

Samuel nods his head, the effort of which tires him out considerably. "Very sore. Everything is hard to do, it appears. Breathing is fine." Samuel yawns. "Just...really tired. Tell me what's going on."

Lowen walks over and rests his hand over his forehead. Although it's not as hot as it used to be, it's still warm to the touch. "I...think you'd rather spend your energy resting. All you need to know is...our friends are in combat. There are three forts that need to be taken. They'll be fine, though. That experience in Valor has taught us much."

Samuel sighs, his heart slowing down as the weariness in his body overtakes him. He closes his eyes and mutters one final sentence. "Thanks...kid."

Then he retreats into the blackness of his mind. More experiences wait in store for him, though if they're anything pleasant is anyone's guess.


A/N: Typing this is going to be hard...

When I first started writing this two years ago, I had all the ambition in the world. Now, I can say that it's all gone. I don't know what brought this. It might be the death of my uncle, my own bout with COVID, or the sheer volume this project had become. My heart's just not in it anymore. In the past, I could easily write a chapter in a week. Now, I struggle to even jot a few words onto paper...

Recently, I've picked up another project that's taken most of my passion. It's a novel I've been thinking about writing since I was in high school, something I've recently started working on shortly after the new year. It provides me fulfillment that this project used to give me...

That's why, with a heavy heart, I am announcing that I will be putting the SOMB under hiatus. I will probably come back to write a couple chapters a year, and might even come back fully if I gather the will again. The world of Elibe, Lyn, and the rest of the characters will stay close to my heart for the rest of my life. But...I think this is something that needs to be done.

If you're curious about my other project, it's heavily-inspired by the world of Fire Emblem. It has magic, creatures (dragons, wyverns, pegasi, avians, etc), many different cultures and races, and a custom world I've spent lots of time developing! I haven't thought of a name yet (right now, I have it listed as the Mont Project), but I'm thinking about posting beta chapters either on Wattpad or my own website. I'm having loads of fun writing this and I think you all would like it!

In case you're wondering, it's written in past tense. I'm also in talks to get an illustrator on board as well! If you have any ideas or comments to make, feel free to speak your mind!

Finally, for all my readers, thank you. Writing this was such a pleasure for me. I've learned so much! I hope to take these lessons towards a bigger and brighter future!

P.S: If y'all want closure, I'm nearly done with a short series about Lyn and Samuel's life after their conflict with Nergal. I'll have the last chapter done...eventually. It's called "The Reign of the Marchioness", and I hope it does something to close the pits in your hearts.