Chapter Seventeen – Interrogation
Get up. Why am I constantly needing to wake you up? Come on, time to rise and shine. You're needed.
"Sothis!"
I shot up from bed, shouting the name of the goddess who was back in my head, only to be met with the gaze of my husband's vassal. Dedue rose to his feet and bowed to me, unfazed by both my violent awakening and my crying of a name of someone who I supposedly hadn't heard from in years.
"Your Majesty," Dedue greeted. "I am pleased to see that you are awake. I am going to call for Mercedes and His Majesty. Please do not remove yourself from the bed. You require attention before doing so."
I nodded and watched Dedue leave the room. He was leaving me alone… that must have meant that they were confident, for whatever reason, that I was no longer in any danger.
Cyril…
I put a hand on my stomach. What had he done to me? That pain… if I had been able to, I would have used Sothis's gifts to turn back time again, to prevent him from coming near me or to stop my family from leaving without me. But the pain had been so intense that it was an impossibility. And now, well, I didn't know how much time had passed during my slumber. But if Sothis was waking me up, it was probably a little too long.
"Sothis? Are you there?" I asked within my mind.
I am exhausted, but I am here.
"Good…" I sighed audibly, but kept our conversation private as I continued, "What happened to us?"
I am unsure. I was blocked from communicating with you while you were writhing with pain, but I was still there. It seems that Cyril did not actually do anything to the baby. Yet it is certainly disconcerting that he knows about your pregnancy. He should have no memory of such information.
Nothing to the baby… he didn't do anything to the baby. I let my head hit the pillow again and closed my eyes, running my fingers over my stomach, the fact that life grew within completely unnoticeable still. It was too soon yet to see a bump, so this child was still a secret to most people, save for the few I had told, and now possibly some others who Dimitri might have informed.
So, how could Cyril have known?
"What do you think he'll do with that information? Cyril was the one back in Shambhala who thought it didn't matter because they only needed one Crest of Flames. He didn't have any issue with going through with taking my crest regardless of the baby, and the ones who talked him down are dead by my hands," I pointed out. Sothis's voice hummed in agreement in my head. "No matter what, I think we need to hear what Dimitri did with him."
Agreed. And speaking of…
I sat back up as the door to the infirmary opened, and Dimitri entered first, followed by Mercedes and then Dedue. I could see Alexi just outside the door peering in, but then the door slammed behind Dedue, locking my son out.
"How are you feeling?" Dimitri asked.
"Fine. What happened?" I directed this question to Mercedes, and she folded her hands together.
Mercedes, like the rest of us, suffered through her life up until the end of the war, and she still smiled the brightest of all my students. It had been a difficult day for her when her brother died, despite understanding the role he played necessitated his death, but things had generally looked up for her since. She separated herself from her adoptive family and built her life here at the monastery. I admired her tenacity and resilience. What she went through made her stronger.
"It was just some dark magic," she told me. "He essentially used a spell to twist the muscles in the abdomen, but he didn't do any damage further. You can consider it a dark magic-induced cramp. Certainly a bad one, but he didn't affect anything with your baby. If I had to guess, I think he was just trying to scare you."
I ran a hand through my hair—sticky with sweat and exceptionally flat—and nodded. "Where is he now?"
"We have him locked up in one of the tunnels below the monastery, but he's not sharing any details," Dimitri said. Mercedes must have explained the situation to him well before now, seeing how calm he was. "He says he wants to speak to you alone."
"Was he trying to get caught?" I wondered aloud, and Dimitri and Mercedes exchanged a glance. "Something is strange."
They continue to be one step ahead of us. But I do believe you need to speak with this Cyril imposter, Sothis advised. He will be trying to trick you, surely, but there may be some information you can gather by using Adonis's name. Adonis appeared to be of a higher rank than this imposter.
"I'll speak with him, alone as he requests," I decided. Dimitri opened his mouth to protest, and I held up a hand to silence him. "Is he securely bound? With magical restrictions?"
Mercedes nodded. "Annie set them up herself."
"Then I won't doubt her abilities. I have no choice but to speak with him if I want to gather any more information about what the Agarthans plan to do now. They will likely have abandoned their base because I know its location, so we'll need more information going into the next phase of all this." I moved my feet out from below the covers of the bed and pulled over my shoes. "I will head down now."
"Professor, with all due respect," Mercedes began, "I think you should bring someone with you. I agree that something feels off about this whole situation. You were keeping your pregnancy under wraps, weren't you? Yet the person who is pretending to be Cyril knew—and despite this, did not harm the baby even after pretending to. Unless he merely made a mistake, there is likely some sort of plan he is trying to enact."
I smiled at her as I slipped my feet into my boots. My abdomen, I noticed as I leaned over to pull them up, was tight, the soreness from Cyril's curse lingering still.
"It's all right. He won't speak if I bring someone. I'd like to get as much information as I can, but if I sense any danger whatsoever, I promise I'll retreat." I held up my hand in promise, not that I necessarily meant it. If I sensed danger, I would be more than happy to run Cyril through on the end of my sword.
I wanted answers. And sitting here speculating wouldn't get me any closer to them.
Dimitri walked over to the small nightstand and picked up my baldric, holding it tentatively in both his hands and staring down at the Sword of the Creator fitted through one loop. I wondered for a moment if he might not give it to me, if he might try to prevent me from going, but I knew him better. He turned back and handed the belt over to me, brushing past me once I had it securely in my hands.
This was not the choice he would make for me, but he also recognized he was not the one who could make the decision.
I secured the baldric and the Sword of the Creator on my hip, and then turned to the small group formed in the center of the room. "Thank you for taking care of me, Mercedes. It's reassuring knowing that you're here," I told her, and she smiled, a slight rosy hue forming in her cheeks. "Dedue, thank you for carrying me here. I know I can always count on you." Dedue bowed to me, a crack in his stoic demeanor barely noticeable as his lips curled slightly. "And Dimitri, thank you for not fighting this. And for taking care of the kids while I was out of commission."
Dimitri crossed his arms with a huff. "I know better than to tell you what to do…"
"That you do." I stood on my toes and kissed his cheek. "Will you take me to Cyril?"
"I'm going back to the cathedral to pray," Mercedes said, her smile falling into a frown. "Poor Cyril… I hope that his soul can find salvation after all this. The goddess will take care of him."
Cyril is already dead. There is little I can do for him now, Sothis said to me. But she's right. As much as we hate the one who has inhabited his body, we must remember that it is not Cyril himself who we hate.
Dimitri and Dedue led me below the monastery, and we said our goodbyes to Mercedes as she went to pray for Cyril's soul. Despite having turned the monastery into our base during the war, there remained secrets unknown to us about the grounds and building. The complex tunnels beneath us, which had been rumored to exist but never proven, had been discovered when Flayn was kidnapped during our school days. But the entrance to that area had been sealed completely after finding it in Manuela's room.
That apparently did not stop our armies from constructing a new, more accessible entrance. There were cells down there that we could use for any war criminals, like the man who told Dimitri about what happened with his stepmother's carriage. I would have thought this would be sealed again following the conclusion of the war, but Dimitri and Dedue brought me to that same entrance, located in the knights' quarters where it could always be guarded.
The staircase, shoddily constructed and dangerous in the dark, led directly to the cells. Dimitri and Dedue lit some lanterns nearby, and Cyril's face became illuminated from behind iron bars. I put my hand up to them, only to be burned by some sort of magic when I got too close.
"He won't be able to reach through, but you'll still be able to communicate," Dimitri explained. Then, he addressed Cyril. "We'll leave you two alone to talk. But if you so much as try to hurt my wife again, you will regret it. Do you understand?"
Cyril smiled, rolling his eyes and holding a hand up to wave Dimitri off. "I won't touch her. Obviously. Can't."
This pacified Dimitri enough, and my husband turned to me now. "Be careful." He took my hand for a moment, squeezing gently before dropping it and walking away with Dedue.
And now I was alone with the enemy.
"I'm going to let you do the talking," I told him. "You must have a lot to explain."
Cyril was always so steadfast and serious, so seeing a smile plastered on his face like this creeped me out a bit. I wasn't used to it and knowing that someone else was using his body to act this way was even worse to consider.
But it didn't last long. The dark skin of the Almyran man began to peel away, like the dark magic burning the flesh that Adonis had used back in Hrym. Below, however, was the true form of man impersonating Cyril, and within seconds, a new person altogether sat on the damp floor. Not even the clothes remained the same.
The man looking up at me now had the same pale, grayish skin as the others, but his eyes were black—and not just the irises. Both his eyeballs in their entirety were black, as if rotted away over time, so it was almost impossible to tell if he was looking directly at me. His hair, too, long and greasy, was black.
"I thought Annette blocked your magic," I said.
He laughed. His real voice was deeper than Cyril's, though not quite like Adonis's. "That girl's magic hardly compares to the ancient magic of Agartha. She may have successfully created the barrier between us, but she does not have me bound here as she suspects."
"So, you could have left. Why didn't you?"
The Agarthan stood and closed the distance between us. The only reason I knew his eyes were bearing into me was because his face was a mere six inches away from mine, kept apart only because of the magical barrier. Otherwise I suspected he would have closed the distance further.
"Then we wouldn't have this opportunity to chat!" he announced, still smiling, and then took a couple of steps back. "But I can't promise that I'll stick around after our conversation concludes. There's more to do, you know."
And with the magical barrier between us, I wouldn't be able to prevent him from leaving…
"Let's begin with introductions, shall we?" He bowed, curling an arm around his waist in a deep, formal bow. "I am Theron."
He stood back up and looked at me expectantly, waiting for my introduction. I frowned. "I believe you know who I am."
"I'd like to hear it nonetheless."
I sighed. "I'm Byleth."
He shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Try again."
Just appease him. It'll get us to our answers sooner. Besides, like you said, he already knows.
"Sothis," I corrected.
Theron clapped his hands, before stopping suddenly and dropping to his knees. He crawled closer once more, kneeling this time so that he was eye-level with my stomach. I backed away, and he held his hands just before the stinging barrier.
"How did you know?" I asked.
"Getting straight to the point, are we?" He lowered his hands and stood again, but his head was lowered enough that I could tell he was still looking at my torso and not my face. "You know, I wasn't so fond of the idea before. It seemed like a waste of time. But I don't mind it now. Because we can work with this. I have ideas. And there are those much smarter than me who can bring them to fruition."
My brows furrowed. "Before?" I repeated.
Theron laughed again. "Ah, allow me to explain. You see, I have this unusual ability. One that, you know, wouldn't come up in daily life. It was discovered accidentally some years ago. Like Adonis, I am a mere descendant of the original Agarthans, so at first, my gift was disregarded as unimportant. Useless. But then, I decided that I might prove myself useful, and I was given an opportunity. Adonis decided that I could be here, with you, to see what was happening at every iteration of this world."
Every iteration?
He could see my confusion. He continued to smile, this time looking at my face and leaning in closer once more. But I had stepped far enough away from the cell bars that we were several feet apart.
"To put it simply: you turn back the hands of time, and I remember."
"What?"
Theron twirled a finger in a circle. "You are the progenitor god. The Beginning. You know both sides of time, the past and the present, which leads to the future. And when you change the past—when you use your powers to turn back time—you change the present. It is as if you are recording a new history over that which has already happened. But you do not record over mine."
He… remembered? How could that be so?
"In short, I retain the memories of the past you erase," he clarified. "Like you. You retain those memories, too, do you not? So, for the two of us, we can remember that whole scenario in which my dear Sybil determined that you were pregnant with a baby who bore a crest. And I remember how you very unkindly murdered me."
The smile vanished now, and he reached forward, curling his fingertips around the iron bars. I could hear the magic crackling, could see flashing of red as it tried to fight him off, but he kept his grip firm, and leaned even closer so that his face began to flicker with signs of magic trying to repel him.
I backed away further, holding up my hands to show I did not plan to hurt him now. But, then again, I wasn't completely unarmed. My magic wouldn't compare to his, but it was still functional.
"You would do the same in my place," I said.
"That I would. And I would do the same now if we didn't need you and that child within. Because I can see in your eyes that you know which crest that child has. And that was the spell I cast on you." He reached through the bars, the magic burning the sleeves of his robe, and held his hand outstretched towards me. "If the crest of the mother and child were compatible, they would react: pain. If the crest of the mother and the child were incompatible—that is, if the child bore the crest of your husband—then there would be no reaction."
He knew. He knew the child bore the Crest of Flames.
"So," I began, covering my stomach with both my hands. "What now?"
Theron pulled his arm back in and removed himself from the crackling magic. There were burns across his face and hands, little vein-like ribbons patterning through his skin, but it didn't seem to bother him any. Maybe once you experienced dying once, pain like that didn't affect you the same way.
"I return to my people and share what I know. And you begin to formulate a plan to destroy us that will ultimately fail because no matter what you do, we will always be one step ahead of you. Turn back time all you'd like, but I will remember and learn, just like you," he threatened. I unsheathed the Sword of the Creator from my belt and held it up in front of me. "And that little spiny stick? Won't help you for long."
I whipped the sword, but it clashed against the magic barrier and retracted back into itself. Theron laughed, more maliciously than before, and shook his head.
"You are nothing compared to Nemesis," he said, and then he vanished.
I ran forward, reaching for the iron bars, only to be burned again by Annette's magic. Theron—Cyril—was gone. He made it out alive… he knew that my child bore the Crest of Flames… he would remember every situation that I turned back time, meaning if he was in battle when we reached the end of this, he would keep me from making any changes to the outcome.
Nemesis, Sothis repeated. The King of Liberation.
I didn't know what it all meant, but we certainly received a great deal of information from that man. And if I could use any of it against them, then I would do all that I could to beat them. If they were always one step ahead of us, then I would have to make sure that we were as close to the edge as we could get, so that when they took that next step, they would fall.
Author's Note: Thank you for your continued support, and welcome to all the new readers who have joined recently. Enjoy!
