Author's note: It must be at least six years since I really sat down and wrote something. Shoutouts to Into the Outrealms and Fire Emblem: Awakening - Another Again for rekindling an inspiration I thought died years ago. Incidentally, listening to the Awakening drama CD 3 is pretty good.
Also, this work is being hosted on the Archive! However, this will continue to be the main base of operations.
The cool wind flowed over Gerome as he guided Minerva into a shallow turn. With a slight angling of her wings, their glide turned back around over their friends' camp outside the temple at Mount Prism. Even through his mask and under the cover of night, Gerome saw the splendour of Naga's mountain under the light of the full moon. He saw the proud life that refused to die in this forsaken land in its lush trees and fields. The distant flow of the waterfall was gradually growing louder; another small movement of the reins told Minerva to circle once more.
How long had it been since he had last seen the full moon? When they weren't filled with clouds promising storms, the skies were often instead clogged by smoke and ash. Sun and moon alike became a rare treat to witness, with the sole exception of fliers skilled enough to break through the cloud cover. Now that he thought about it, perhaps that contributed to Cynthia's optimism?
Despite everything, it was a beautiful night for the last one they would ever see in this world.
It was a shame that it couldn't last.
Even lost in reverie, Gerome's instincts were as sharp as ever. A twist in his gut with no cause, a deep chill—his body screamed to dodge and Gerome moved without hesitating. Minerva tucked her wings in and entered a steep dive. An arrow sliced through the air, piercing the spot his neck would've been a split second later.
They were under attack. "Alert them," he growled as he drew his axe.
Minerva unhinged her jaw and let loose a resounding shriek.
"Risen?!" Owain scrambled to his feet, sword at his side as he rushed from his tent. "They're back already?!"
"No, Ylisstol is throwing a party for us before we go!" He didn't have to look to know that sarcasm and the footsteps joining his side belonged to Severa. "Duh, what else could it be?!"
A rush of wind swept over them as Cynthia touched down, purple miasma staining the end of her lance. "There you guys are!" she said, out of breath yet relieved.
"Cynthia!" said Owain. "Where's everyone else?"
"They're heading for the temple. Come on, we need to—"
The rustling of bushes, three footsteps, and the whisper of a falling blade were all the warning Owain took before he turned, drawing his blade and striking in one fluid motion. The Risen blocked his blow, and Owain swiftly disengaged with a retreating slash that put them several steps apart. Under the light of the moon, he could see his enemy's Chon'sinese garb—and more worryingly, the golden curved blade spoken of in Elibean legend in its grasp.
The Sol Katti, Owain thought. And if a Risen is running around with a legendary weapon of yore, then odds are good it's a strong one…
The undead swordmaster shuffled forward one step. Owain took an equal step back. "You two go on ahead," he called over his shoulder. "I'll meet up with you there!"
"Like that's happening!" Severa stepped forward to meet him halfway, bouncing back and forth as she sized up the enemy. "You're coming up with us, got it?"
"Hey, that's my enemy!" Cynthia and her pegasus leapt over them both, planting herself between her friends and the Risen. "Our clash of good and evil isn't over yet! You two go on ahead!"
"Are you even listening, Cynthia?! You're the one on a pegasus, you get outta here and—"
All three of them shut up as two more figures stepped forth from the darkness. To the Risen swordmaster's right stood a war cleric. Owain silently identified the massive axe in its hands as the Hauteclere, and by this point, he couldn't be bothered to make out the tome carried by that sage on the left.
"You can't be serious," breathed Owain. "Deadlords. Of all the Risen to show up, of all nights to show up on, and it's the Deadlords, here…!"
The six of them stared at each other. For an instant, all were at an impasse.
"…So, we run?" offered Severa.
Cynthia stabbed her lance into the tent at their side and, with one large heave, tore away the cloth to throw it at the Risen. "RUN!"
The sage extended its arm and shredded it to bits with a colossal maelstrom of wind magic, but her distraction had served its purpose. By the time the chaos settled, the future children were already out of the campsite and booking it up the mountain.
With Lepus at its side, Ovis turned its efforts to shooting down the fleeing pegasus knight. Simia kept its blade at the ready and dashed across the campsite at blistering speed, zigzagging between trees in hot pursuit.
Lucina twisted to the side to narrowly dodge the vaunted spear's stab, followed immediately by hitting the ground to avoid the giant decapitating swing that came next. The Risen general's eyes glowed blood red as it loomed over her, twirling its weapon in preparation for impaling the princess now at its feet.
Gradivus cracked the stone steps of the temple entrance as it crashed down where Lucina had rolled away. She scrambled to her feet just in time to deflect another deadly slash, only to be forced back by the next stab. Counterattacking was out of the question when it took everything she had just to stay alive against the general's relentless onslaught.
But before Mus could advance on her, teal blades of wind ripped at its armour. It faltered, and Lucina took her opportunity to reestablish some distance.
Uttering incantations as quickly as he could, Laurent fired another blast of Elwind. Undaunted, the general responded by slamming down its shield before itself, its armour shimmering with the faint blue light of Aegis as Elwind broke against it. The base of its lance and shield alike struck the ground—a challenge for them to step forth and test its might again.
"We must break through," panted Lucina as she eyed the hallway behind Mus. "I will not allow our efforts to be in vain!"
"A fine proposition, but I see few viable courses of action in our current situation." Laurent lowered his arm and eyed the Deadlord warily. "The Risen seems intent on denying us access to the temple through this entrance. The remainder of our allies are preoccupied in attempting to overcome the Risen attacking them and cannot be expected to provide assistance in our battle. Should they arrive, there is an overwhelming probability that they will bring their enemies with them."
"Then is there nothing we can do?"
"I did not make any such proposition," he said. "I will engage this Risen in combat and maneuver to provide you an opportunity to bypass it unscathed. Its armour and bulk prevent it from giving chase in the event that we can achieve this scenario." Laurent adjusted his glasses and braced himself. "I predict that it will then focus its attention on killing me, as I will no longer have your aid."
"What?!" Lucina turned to him and vehemently said, "No. There must be another way."
"You are the princess of Ylisse and the last wielder of Falchion. Given a situation where all but one of us must die, you are the obvious candidate for surviv—"
"Stop it!" she cut him off. "Stop talking like that! You are my friends! You cannot weigh our lives on a scale!" Lucina looked at the Risen again with torn eyes. Even as she said that, what other option did they have? Were her friends yet another sacrifice to be paid in the name of their future?
Laurent followed her gaze. The Risen had yet to make another move against them, but the sounds of combat were getting closer. The others would arrive soon. "…Lucina," he finally began. "I will do everything in my power to ensure that none of us die here. But you must go first. Our world needs you more than anyone else."
"Laurent, you—"
He turned to look her in the eye. "We will meet again in that world. All of us. I promise."
She blinked. With a ghost of a sigh, Lucina lifted her blade and steeled herself. "I will hold you to your word."
The mage smiled slightly as he reopened his tome. "I would expect no less."
"But for now, we fight together!"
The Risen burst into action the moment Lucina stepped forward, rushing at her with shocking speed for its size. Lucina felt her heart sink as she tightened her grip on Falchion. She had to deflect his blade and disengage as quickly as possible to run for the gate, but that would mean leaving Laurent vulnerable and alone with the powerful Deadlord. If she stood her ground, she could also defend Laurent and would give up the gate in the process. How could she not?
As it neared her range, the general crouched down and then jumped, both feet leaving the ground. A colossus of several hundred pounds and its legendary weapon descended upon Lucina.
She sidestepped and nearly lost her footing as Gradivus shattered solid stone, shaking the ground and scattering debris around them. The Risen's red eyes were locked onto her even as its first strike missed. Gradivus crunched in its crater as it began to move, but again Laurent casted Elwind, and again the general was slowed.
Lucina had to make her choice now.
She stood her ground, levelled Falchion at the general's mask, and thrust forward with a cry to drive her blade through its skull.
Her heart almost stopped as her sword failed to strike even metal. Mus wrenched Gradivus free and moved—nearly gliding backwards across the floor with its footwork. Its cold dead eyes bored holes into the princess as Lucina's blade stopped mere inches from its target.
Mus would not make the same mistake.
"Lucina!" cried Laurent, casting Elwind once more.
Mus was unfazed by the magic wind slicing at the chinks in its armour as it levelled its spear at Lucina and struck back. She brought her sword down as quickly as she could to deflect the head to one side—
The world became a blur, spinning wildly end over end before coming to rest.
Pain seared throughout her body. Lucina could make out the Risen's back several feet away. It seemed to be skidding to a halt. Her hand felt lighter than it should have… she was holding a sword, right?
Flashes of green. The Risen slashed in a massive arc at someone throwing green at it, forcing them away. A distant voice was calling to her.
Lucina groaned as she rolled onto her stomach and then struggled to her feet. Her thoughts seemed to follow suit. Mus must have tackled her when Gradivus failed to find its target. Several hundred pounds of flesh and metal was certainly no good for her health.
Her vision came back into sharp focus. Her sword, where was her sword?! Lucina spotted Falchion a few dozen feet away, near the entrance to the temple.
With Laurent forced back a substantial distance, Mus turned in time to see Lucina level her rapier at it, ready to fight once more. The Risen hoisted its spear and shield and advanced on her.
"Lucina, what are you doing?" called Laurent. "You must go!"
Lucina fought off the throbbing pain in her head and focused. The impact had jarred loose some sort of obstruction in her mind. In the span of one step from Mus, she recalled their last interaction. Her thoughts flowed freely. The technique she had performed but once in the past rose now to the front of her consciousness. She hadn't dared use it, unsure if it would even work, but she couldn't let this monstrosity turn on her friends unchecked.
"Not yet!" she declared. "There is one thing I must do first."
The Risen stopped in its tracks, watching Lucina with its chilling scarlet gaze.
"Laurent… will you help me?"
"Without question."
She would only have one chance. Failure would certainly kill her. Lucina exhaled, adjusted her grip on the rapier, and struck.
Mus easily blocked. A protective blue shine and Laurent's spell broke against its armour with little effect, but served to stall its counterattack by an instant. Lucina narrowly dodged and strafed around the general, looking for a weak point to drive her blade into. The Risen refused her any opening and they exchanged attacks again. Its power was immense and its agility exceptional. What's more, blocking wasn't an option when Lucina's rapier was so much more fragile than Falchion. Though Mus denied them any opportunity to land a decisive blow, Laurent's support prevented it from pressing any advantage it found.
By the fourth clash, an unearthly sound halfway between a roar and a death rattle echoed from within Mus' armour. Slamming Gradivus against the ground, it brought its shield to bear and forced Lucina away with the threat of a brutal shield bash. The general leapt into the air, bearing down on Lucina with its full might.
She was waiting for this.
Her rapier shimmered with a warm orange light. Lucina felt the wind of Gradivus splitting the air mere inches from her head. Mus had twisted in mid-air, deflecting the rapier's tip off its impregnable armour. They were close enough for Lucina to taste the foul smoke that emanated from the Risen's maw.
Both of them broke away from each other, lining up their weapons for a final joust. Lucina's heart was pounding in her ears as she felt energy course from her body to her blade, coating it in a light that matched the moon above.
She placed her weight on her front leg and pushed off as Mus rushed to meet her.
"Laurent!"
Aegis activated as his spell struck home, reducing the damage to all but nothing. However, fending it off costed Mus a fraction of a second. Lucina hoped desperately that it was enough.
Father, guide me!
"Aether!"
Gradivus twisted to slice into her arm and side at once, splattering exalted blood on the temple grounds. Empowered by Luna, the rapier answered in kind by piercing through Mus' armour and ripping into the undead flesh within.
A burst of purple smog spewed from the Deadlord as it screeched to a halt and crashed down to one knee. Pain exploded through Lucina's injuries as she spun out of her charge and hit the ground with a cry.
"Lucina!" Laurent was at her side in seconds, helping her into a sitting position. She heard a small pop and then felt a smooth surface at her lips. "Are you alright?"
Lucina accepted the bitter concoction. As she drank, she felt the pain recede and the bleeding slow before gently pushing it away. "Thank you," she said faintly. "I'll be okay."
"That was madness. Why didn't you run?"
"I couldn't leave you behind with it. I hope I've done enough…"
The mage glanced at Mus. The Risen was slowly but surely rising to its feet once more—injured but undefeated. "More than enough," he concluded. "Lucina, we are out of time. It is likely that all of the Risen will attack you at once when they get here. You must go."
"You're right." They got to their feet. Indeed, the noise of battle was far closer than before. Lucina could see Gerome and Cynthia on their mounts, skimming low over the treetops as they fought their respective enemies. "Remember: Keep the emblem and the gemstones out of the enemy's hands, stop Emmeryn's assassination, and our fate… is certain to change. We will change it, for sure. With our very own hands!"
Laurent nodded. "And I will see to it that I fulfill my promise to you."
She smiled.
Mus slammed Gradivus against the floor and rose to its full height. Those red eyes moved first to Lucina, then to the temple entrance, and finally settled on Laurent. It was too far away to stop Lucina with its injuries now.
He opened his tome and flipped through its pages. "Go, Lucina."
She backed away from them towards the temple. With one final look down the mountain where she knew her friends were still fighting, Lucina turned, reclaimed Falchion, and didn't look back.
"Come on! Quit crying, Lucina. So you can't fight by yourself. So what?"
"'Cause from now on, we'll always be together! Don't worry so much. It'll be okay!"
"Hahaha… So I see."
"That's right, Lucina. Because no matter how far apart you think we are, our souls will always be together!"
"Our souls… will always be… together…"
The words she shared with her friends echoed in her mind long after the din of battle had faded to near-total silence. Her injuries throbbed faintly as she ran through the empty halls of the temple, guided only by instinct and seeing only by moonlight. The effect of the concoction would diminish greatly in a few hours. Her Falchion could heal her wounds, given a night of rest and meditation. But the Risen that had inflicted them was now fighting Laurent…
She drove those thoughts from her mind with a shake of her head. Her allies were every bit as competent and skilled as her. Lucina had to have faith in them. How could she have faith in herself otherwise?
There was a light ahead of her at the corner. Lucina pushed herself to run just a little faster, urged her body to move just a little more.
She saw the gate—an arch filled with otherworldly light and bathed in a myriad of colours she had never seen before. Her pace fell to a walk as she soaked in its light and memories flowed through her mind again…
"We do not belong to that era. We should not become too involved. In particular… it would bode ill for us if you were to be recognized."
"You are right. This holy brand in my iris is proof of my royalty… I cannot allow the chaos it would bring to the world of the past. Then, I'll use these…"
"Whoa! What are you doing with those massive glasses?! Quit it, Lucina! That's going too far! At least use this one!"
"That's… a butterfly mask…?"
"It suits your outfit better, don't you think?"
Lucina brought out her mask and looked again at the gate. She inhaled. She exhaled. Finally, she donned the mask.
Their moment was at hand. She and her friends would defy the flow of time and change destiny.
Until the floor was consumed with a sickly purple light that dredged every terrible memory from the depths of her mind at once.
Massive spires of darkness exploded from the floor in a giant wave, rushing from the gate to the far end of the chamber. With nowhere else to go, she made a mad sprint for the nearest pillar and leapt at it, kicking off its surface to just barely grab a nearby ledge and clamber atop. Lucina watched in horror as fell lightning crackled between the spikes whose tips stood even higher than her perch. Had they emerged from not only the floor but every surface in the room, she would've already been a mangled pincushion hanging from the ends of those spikes.
If she had insisted on staying behind to fend off the Deadlords… if she had sent her friends to go through time first…!
The spikes receded into the floor. A slow, mocking clap echoed around the chamber as Lucina unsheathed Falchion.
"It took quite a bit of time to set that up. I'm almost a little disappointed."
"Vile craven," seethed Lucina. "Show yourself!"
The clapping stopped. A figure jumped down from the arch of the gate and lowered their hood, revealing pure white hair. It took all of Lucina's willpower to not fly into battle right then and there.
"Vile," he repeated, as if tasting unfamiliar words for the first time. "Craven. I suppose I should have expected such hypocrisy from the children of Naga." A lopsided grin formed on his face as he assessed Lucina with cruel red eyes. His footsteps echoed as he made his leisurely way down the chamber to face her directly. "You seem to be in much better spirits, worm. The last time we met, you could barely keep your sword pointed in the right direction."
She gripped her sword tighter. "Who are you?"
He threw his head back and laughed—a harsh, grating cacophony. "Use your feeble brain. Who commands the Deadlords? Whose vessel was a master tactician that could predict every miserable step you have taken? Who is purging the filth named humanity?" He calmed down, still wearing that wicked smile as he spread his arms wide. "I am the wings of despair. I am the breath of ruin. I am the fell dragon, Grima!"
Lucina's breath caught in her throat. "No… you can't be. You—the fell dragon retreated at Ylisstol. How could you…"
"Should I explain myself to insects?" But he drank in Lucina's shock and decided, "I do enjoy that expression, though. This body is joined with the fell dragon. Our mind is one and the same. There are only two places you could flee to the past: the Outrealm Gate and Mount Prism. I used one body to guard each." His eyes lit up with mirth. "Or did you really think those weakling Risen yesterday were all I could muster for Naga's most sacred domain?"
"N-no… gods, no…"
"God is right here," chuckled Grima. "But I will admit I'm impressed any of you made it to this room at all. I'll take it you were the one that threw the rest to the Deadlords? Used their corpses as your shield? I'd love to hear the details."
Her friends. Lucina felt as if she'd been doused in a bucket of cold water. She snapped to full awareness and coldly replied, "Our bonds are stronger than any trick you can conjure. My allies still live."
"They won't live for long," he rebuked. "Your journey has ended, child of Naga. From the moment you were born, it was fated to end here. Throw down the Kingsfang and I will make your death swift."
But Lucina's heart soared at his response. If he had nothing to show for it, then she must be right. Everyone was still alive!
"…Oh?" The fell dragon raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Where did that agony of yours vanish to? Where is your despair?"
"If I were alone, I may be driven to despair. But with my loved ones at my side… as long as I have them, I can do anything." Lucina felt a swell of pride as she spoke. "It doesn't matter how far they are. Even if a thousand years separated us… even if death itself came between us, they are always with me. Our souls are always together!"
Somewhere in the back of Lucina's mind, she was still terrified even as she spoke. The fell dragon stood before her. Her friends were locked in battle with the Deadlords. Their worst possible enemies had struck at the most crucial junction, but she refused to let hope die!
Lucina levelled Falchion at him and declared, "And these bonds of ours are stronger than even you, Grima!"
Her defiant words echoed into the darkness of the chamber. The gate cast its shifting light across them as shadows morphed and danced on the walls.
"…Are you done?" said Grima quietly. All trace of mirth had vanished from his face. He looked at her as if she were walking garbage. "Have you finished spouting your disgusting little speech, worm?"
Despite the light of the gate striking his side, a black shadow stretched from his feet and across the floor to the wall opposite Lucina. Darker than even the deepest shadows of Naga's temple, it spread over the wall like blood soaking into cloth.
"Vomit your tales of friendship and peace while you can. Abandon and kill one another as it suits you. Indulge in your worst desires and cover it all with a mask of virtue."
Ice-cold fingers danced along her spine as Lucina watched the shadow take coherent form and pry itself free of the wall. Wicked horns sprouted from its head and the black molded itself to the form of armored scales. Six baleful red lights burned to life within the darkness. Its growl shook the ground as it resonated not in her ears, but in her chest.
The spectre of the fell dragon gazed down on the tiny princess. For an instant, she was back in the ruins of Ylisstol, hands struggling to hold Falchion aloft as the behemoth looked upon her with endless hatred and disgust.
"Didn't I tell you to drop your sword? I'll make sure you die slowly. Expire."