Hi everyone.
Orpheus here.
It's been a while.
Look, I know that this isn't the next chapter of Melody Of Salvation. I'm sorry about that. I've been busy lately, so I haven't been doing much writing. I'm going to try to get up the chapter soon. In the meantime, I have a new idea in my head that I've been planning for a few months now. I've thought and researched a bit more for this fanfic, which takes place in Fire Emblem.
Three Houses, to be specific.
Enjoy!
It was a clear, dark night.
The winds that night seemed to blow with a strange sense of vigour, as if it somehow knew that the new Imperial year was now upon the residents of the continent known as Fodlan.
This particular night happened to be the 19th day of the Great Tree Moon, of the Imperial Year 1185. It was not an important day to anyone.
However, this would soon foreshadow the 20th, which was the day a legend was founded, one that would soon take place over the next five years.
This tale of mirth and woe would not be one for the faint-hearted, as the darkness had infiltrated the country, reigniting old, forgotten fears within Fodlan's population.
But with that fear, came hope.
As well as a triumph like no one had ever seen.
An age of peace where the people could finally rest easy, for the evil had been shattered and destroyed.
It is a legend that many of Fodlan's future historians would come to know as: The Tale of Three Houses.
In the woods of a nearby village, a small group of bandits circled around their campfire, absorbing the warmth while the wind howled around them.
They had made their plan. They had scouted the village beforehand. There was no army as far as they knew, nor any mercenaries around to hinder their exploits. They were ready to rob the entire town the next morning, and then live it up for the next few days before deciding on their next target. Satisfied, they were just beginning to rest up for the night before their success the next morning.
Unfortunately for them, this would be the last night they would steal from Fódlan.
An arrow suddenly whizzed through the trees, landing straight into the campfire, just barely missing one of the bandits' heads.
"We're under attack!" The leader yelled, jumping to his feet. "Let's get 'em, boys!" The rest of his men cheered and drew their swords, about to run in the direction that the arrow had come from when it exploded, blowing them all to the floor instantly.
At the same time, cascades of fire rained down on them from above, torching the surrounding trees and blocking all possible exits for the bandits to escape.
"Now's your chance, Garen!" A confident girl's voice resounded over the crackling of the fire and the din of the wind. The bandits had just got to their feet groggily when a slightly muscular teenage boy of 17 with crimson, spiked-up hair and clad in armour charged straight through the flames, his brown eyes sparkling with fury. Bellowing a loud war cry, he raised his iron gauntlets to strike the enemies in front of him. The nearest bandit tried to slash him in the face, but he blocked it easily with his right gauntlet and sent the left into his gut, causing the bandit to drop to the floor again in pain, his sword laying forgotten.
Four more of the bandits tried to rush him with similar techniques, but before they knew what they were messing with, the red-haired boy had effortlessly dispatched them of both their weapons and their lives, as they fell to the floor in a similar manner of the first bandit, the wind punched out of their sails.
Frightened, the other bandits crowded around their leader, who had barked an order for them to kill the red-haired boy as quickly as possible. That didn't happen, as a black pegasus swooped by them, causing them to leap back in shock. Luckily for the first group of bandits, because they were so shocked, they didn't notice the new arrows now protruding out of their chests as they fell to the ground, their expressions of pure surprise. The rider, a blue-eyed teenage girl of the same age as the red-haired boy, flipped her brown braided hair (with a streak of dark green) behind her back, grinning as she spun the iron and wood bow in her hand.
The rest of the bandits were terrified out of their wits, as these newcomers had easily taken out most of their crew. But the leader just laughed, his overconfidence now taking over as he viewed the threat. "Are you kidding me? They're just kids! And there are only two of them, too! This should be pretty damn easy!" He pulled out a rusty bloodstained axe, which seemed to inspire the rest of his squad as they held their swords aloft. "You both may have caught us by surprise, but you should know better than to mess with us!"
"Um...no. That's actually my line."
The leader turned on the spot in surprise, finding another teenage boy with ruffled, azure hair, one who also appeared to be the same age as the other two. His emerald green eyes seemed to almost glow in the dark, and the black scarf around his neck hid his mouth. "And what's a scrawny pipsqueak like you gonna do to me, huh?" the leader challenged mockingly.
Suddenly, before he could react, the boy threw out his right hand, glowing with yellow energy as a small lightning bolt crashed down on the leader, who screamed in pain and terror before collapsing to the ground, his body smoking. At this point, the bandits scattered, dropping their swords as they ran, screaming. Before they could escape, he snapped his fingers, creating blades of wind that quickly buried themselves in their targets.
The fight had ended as quickly as it had begun.
"Awesome work, guys!" Garen exclaimed happily as he approached the girl, who had slid off of her pegasus, and the other boy. "We actually took down an entire bandit group! I almost can't believe this."
"What I can't believe," The blue-haired boy sighed as he crossed his arms, "is that you were able to follow the plan for once. Guess I finally made it simple enough for you to follow."
"Hey, who are you calling thickheaded, you dolt?"
"I never said that."
"You wanna go? Let's do this, right here, right now!"
"My magic reserves are almost gone. I honestly don't feel like it right now."
"You messin' with me, Alastor?"
"Must I really do this? There's a tome back at the village that I need to examine."
"Knock it off, you two!" The girl slapped both of them on the backs of their heads, making them wince.
"Geez, Ember," Garen said, "I never knew you could hit this hard!"
"Don't mess with me, mister," Ember said, fuming, "you still really need to work on your temper!"
"Alright, alright."
Alastor then tried to hide a yawn, startling Ember as she moved closer to him. "Alastor, are you going to sleep on time?" she asked, concerned.
"Of course I am. W-what do you think I'm doing?" Alastor answered as he stifled another yawn.
Her expression became unimpressed. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"
"S-sorry..."
"Even with the sleep schedule I made you, you're still up late studying, again?"
"Yeah..." he murmured in defeat.
"I told you, it's not good for you to stay up late like that!" She reprimanded, "You're bound to be even more tired in the morning! No wonder your magic reserves are getting drained so early, you-"
"I-is this really the right place to be discussing this?"
Ember sighed, exasperated. "No, it's not. We should get back to the village. We can't keep Byleth and Beth waiting." She patted her pegasus on the nose as it snorted happily. "Thanks again, Zephyr. Let's get going, shall we?"
"Yeah."
"You got it!" Garen began to walk over to Zephyr, but then he suddenly reared up, neighing loudly.
"What's happening? What's going on?" Ember questioned, trying to soothe the pegasus.
"Look out!" Alastor shouted, but it was too late. The bandit leader had gotten up, still smoking from the lightning spell, but definitely alive. Growling like a dog, he raced over to Garen, axe in hand, bringing it down on his head. Garen had no time to defend himself.
CLANG!
The axe spun away, revolving through the air until it buried itself in the ground five feet away. "What the-" the bandit mumbled as he was kicked in the gut, knocking him back. Garen's defender stood in front of the bandit, her iron sword held her left hand. She was a beautiful woman of 21 years, with her shoulder-length teal hair cascading from her scalp, warm blue eyes and a small smile on her face.
"What took you so long, Beth?" Garen joked while he was silently thanking the goddess that he hadn't been sliced in half.
"I had a hunch that something would go wrong, so I secretly followed you guys to your location. I'm actually kind of surprised you all didn't notice me!" Beth chuckled a little, her eyes sparkling with humour.
"Uh, I actually did notice you." Alastor interrupted. "I just chose not to say anything."
"Me too," Ember added.
"What? Really? Ugh!" Beth suddenly became downcast. The bandit leader got to his feet, groaning from the earlier impact. "Get behind me, guys. You've done enough." She said sternly, her expression becoming serious.
"Die!" The bandit leader ran straight towards them with no weapon, ready to bludgeon them to death with his fists. He had just reached them when another blade protruded from his torso. "No way...the Ashen Demons?" He muttered right before he slumped forward, now dead.
"Hmph. Predictable." The man stepped out from behind the body, flicking the blood off his sword. This man, like Beth, also had teal hair and was the same age. He was handsome as well, but unlike Beth, his blue eyes were cold and his face was always expressionless.
"Always late to the party, aren't you By?" Beth said, exasperated.
"As a matter of fact, I'm always on time, sister. Let's get everyone back to the village, quickly. Father and the others are waiting."
"Got it!" She then turned to the three of them. "Alright, let's get moving!"
"Yes ma'am!" they replied in unison.
"Your work was very efficient this time. Excellent. We'll expect more of that from you three in the future." a blonde, tall, bearded man with a scar just under his left eye said.
The five of them had finally made it back to Remire Village, where they would rest for the night before beginning the journey for their next mission. At the moment, they were now being fully debriefed by the leader of their mercenary group while they ate their fill for the night.
"Still," the man grumbled, "you must all remember what I taught you about making sure of the enemy's status. Even if you appeared to have struck a mortal blow, you still have to check to see if they are alive. Why?" he asked.
"Because if they are still alive, they will most likely take you by surprise. And uncertainty means death on the battlefield." Alastor answered monotonously, having already finished his food, and now poring over the pages of an ancient tome.
"Correct. Glad to see that you're paying attention, unlike others." He glanced over at Garen, who was only focusing on the meal in front of him before registering that he was to one being referred to.
"Sorry, sir, Jeralt sir!" he apologised, accidentally making a salute. "What were you saying again?"
"You idiot!" Ember mumbled under her breath.
Jeralt chuckled before giving him a slap on the back, causing Garen to choke for a few seconds. "Eh, it's fine, kid. Gotta say, ever since you three joined up a few years ago, things have gotten a lot livelier around here. Especially since you three are so skilled in the field. Heck, you're even catching up to Byleth and Beth's level now!"
Beth had a small smile on her face, while Byleth, as always, appeared indifferent.
"Is that so? Thank you so much, sir!"
"That's quite nice of you. I'm glad that we're keeping up with our studies!"
"Oh, wait, really? I-I'm not sure if I'm actually there yet."
"Your personalities are so different from each other," Byleth began, "yet you are all still able to work well together. That's a good skill to have, but you must remember what to do when you're separated."
"And with that, let's get some sleep." Beth yawned, walking to the next room. "I'm exhausted!" She stopped at the doorframe and turned back to Jeralt. "Oh right! Father, what's our next mission?"
"Our next job is in the Kingdom," he responded, "it's far from here, so we'll need to leave at dawn."
"Wait...the Kingdom of Faerghus?" Garen shuddered. "Why there? Do we really have to take this?"
"Hm? Is there a reason you don't want to go?" Beth asked, concerned.
Garen, realising what he had just said, quickly shook his head and put on a smile.
"Nah. No reason."
"Ok then..."
As she left the room, Byleth followed suit, but his eyes went over the trio, analysing them before leaving as well. Jeralt raised an eyebrow, but no further questions were asked as he went outside to discuss with their fellow mercenaries.
The three of them were used to it by now, and all went to bed soon after in separate rooms.
Little did they know, was that this would be the last normal night they would have before everything changed.
For the legend would begin.
The first signs came to the trio in dreams.
Dreams of war, to be precise.
Ember awoke, finding herself in a large field, with heavy rain falling from the sky. Two armies were battling against each other with neither side holding back, one in silver and red armour, the other in thief-like attire. Wyverns, pegasi and their respective riders also clashed in the sky, filling the air with the sounds of grating metal and exclamations of pain from both man and beast alike. She shivered, both from the cold and the fact that she knew that many lives would be lost here.
Suddenly, something broke the clouds above. A blade of light came hurtling towards the ground, colliding with the earth as a circle of fire burst forth, disintegrating the troops that were there. Their screams did not go unnoticed, however. They were so infused with suffering, Ember had to hold her hands to her ears to drown them out. A man jumped down from the sky into the unlit centre of the flames. As he looked up, Ember could take in his full appearance. He was dressed like a thief with barbaric armour, as his leather cape flapped in the wind behind him, his yellow eyes signalling his readiness to take more than just lives. With his right hand, he drew the fallen object from the ground, revealing it to be a sword made of...bone? The flames finally died out, prompting the armoured soldiers to charge straight at him.
Ember then found herself only a bit further away from the chaos, standing next to a woman with light green hair clad in a white and gold dress with a golden headpiece, and a shield on her left arm. All around the battlefield, flashes of red light started to glow. As if on cue, a brigand burst through the crowd and swung at the woman in midair. Ember attempted to move to block the blow, but an armoured soldier quickly deflected it. Another soldier fell to the ground to them, blood leaking out of their armour.
"Lady Seiros!" He cried with his last breath.
Wait...Seiros?
Ember spun to look at the woman. That hair and eye colour. That was her, no doubt about it.
Ember tried to speak to her, but to her frustration, her voice wasn't there. She couldn't speak, no matter how much she tried.
The sun began to rise as the barbarian with the sword finally spotted them through the ranks of the armoured soldiers. All three pairs of their eyes met. As if on instinct, Ember darted back, grabbing a spiked gold and white bow that had somehow appeared on her back and an arrow that had been left by a dying soldier before nocking it and taking a stance. A bit heavier than what she was used to, but she could make do.
The barbarian raised his sword and began to slash mercilessly, the blade suddenly extending beyond what Ember imagined. It cracked like a whip, sending the troops that had been surrounding her and Seiros flying, upending the ground below them. Seiros then drew her sword, her eyes now radiating a glare of pure hatred and fury. She ran straight towards him, her steps splashing the puddles left by the rain. The blade retracted back into its original form just as she and the barbarian clashed.
Their blocks, movements and slashes were so blindingly fast and powerful that Ember could barely keep up with what was going on. She just couldn't seem to find an opening for her to shoot. And yet, something told her to wait just a bit longer.
The barbarian and Seiros went into another stalemate, their swords sparking against each other. The barbarian's face then gave a mischievous grin, as if he was enjoying the bout they were having. Seiros, on the other hand, gritted her teeth, scowling. He overpowered her, forcing Seiros back as his sword's blade changed into a whip once again.
He swung the sword forward, with the tip of the blade barely glancing off of Seiros's armoured dress as she evaded.
The whip came back as he swung it from left to right. Seiros dodged it once more, ducking as it passed over her head.
The third slash came in a downward arc, which was a mistake, as Seiros used the momentum to block it and simultaneously wrap it around the blade of her own sword, tangling it.
Seiros tossed aside her sword, and in doing so, disarmed the barbarian as she sprinted towards him at full speed, her rage taking over. He smiled cockily as he drew another sword from a sheath at his side. A startled look then took place on Seiros' face, but she couldn't stop her reckless charge as he held the sword high above his head, about to bring it down on her neck.
This was her chance.
Ember fired her arrow with pinpoint accuracy, aiming directly at the barbarian's sword hand. The arrowhead burst into flames as it trailed through the air, just managing to get there in time. The burning arrow pierced straight through, causing the barbarian to flinch in pain momentarily, dropping his sword. This gave Seiros an opening to strike him in the jaw, before leaping into the air and kicking him down onto his back.
Before he could get back up, Seiros pinned him down with a dagger at his throat. Ember walked a bit closer to the two of them as she heard Seiros question the barbarian, her voice fraught with madness.
"Tell me, Nemesis. Do you recall the Red Canyon?"
The barbarian, Nemesis, gave no response, but his yellow eyes widened with shock.
She raised her dagger and plunged it into his chest. She drove it in over and over as she screeched, "You'll die for that! Die! Die!"
"You took...nearly everything I loved." She continued to stab him until Ember grabbed her left shoulder.
"Seiros, please, that's enough!" the words that she felt were not her own came spilling out of her mouth as she pleaded, "Please...he's already gone."
Her words appeared to calm Seiros down, allowing her to steady her breathing. She then looked into Ember's eyes before giving her a small smile. The army behind them began to cheer joyously, for they had finally won the battle. Leaving the dagger in Nemesis' body, she picked up his bloodstained bone sword and cradled it, nuzzling it against her cheek.
"He's gone now, Mother..." she murmured. Not seeming to mind the blood on her cheek, she laid it back on the ground next to her own discarded blade and shield before moving towards Ember. She suddenly was afflicted with a range of emotions, but two of them stood out to her the most. One of pure loving affection, and another of deep fear and dread. These emotions also weren't her own, which only served to confuse her even more. Before she could sort them out, Seiros then pulled her into a tight, but gentle embrace.
"Thank you," Seiros lovingly whispered into her ear, "thank you for always saving me, and for always being by my side...my beloved." A third emotion quickly became identifiable to Ember, sadness. Unbelievable, incredible sadness. Unable to say anything, she wrapped her arms around her as a single tear dripped down her cheek, falling to the ground below.
For Garen and Alastor, however, a different battle was taking place.
The only difference between the two battles was the location, and that there were more people involved in this conflict. Ones that were capable of turning the tide in either side's favour.
Garen found himself standing, or rather running, alongside Seiros, in a different field at night, with fireballs raining down from the sky instead of raindrops. Startled, he rolled to the side just as a fireball landed where he just was.
He quickly got back up and ran towards Seiros just as she leapt into the air to slash a bandit off of his horse, his body sent flying. Garen watched her as she intercepted a hit from a warrior wielding an axe made of bone, glowing with intense red light. Out of nowhere, a group of bandits came down on Seiros, their iron axes raised to kill. Garen, almost on instinct, rushed in to help, knocking them aside with a series of fast and furious swings. To his surprise, he found himself holding a lance made of a strange gold, black and silver metal with two red ribbons wrapped around its staff. He also had an axe with a long, black and gold handle sheathed on his back.
Deciding to fight now and ask later, he tried to ask Seiros if she was alright. However, no sounds came out of him. He couldn't say anything either.
More bandits came charging at them. Seiros then glanced up. Following her gaze, Garen's jaw dropped as he saw a massive winged dragon flying above the field, its mouth gaping open as it fired a destructive beam of light towards them. The two of them swiftly jumped out of the way as the beam began to wreak havoc all across the battlefield. Some distance away, a second dragon, one that appeared to resemble a turtle more than a dragon, started to charge up its own ray of destruction to raze the armies.
Nearby, Garen spotted a woman with a small stature, clad in a white robe as she healed an injured soldier with light magic. Her hair was also a shade of light green like Seiros. Although her voice was as soft as a whisper, Garen could hear her pained words loud and clear.
"All this bloodshed...will it never come to an end?"
Alastor regained consciousness the moment those words were spoken, finding himself high on a cliff, observing the chaos below. Rubbing his eyes to fully awaken himself, he watched in horror as a cascade of fireballs struck the dragon turtle all across its neck, overturning to crush the forces standing right next to it. It was then that he realised that he wasn't alone. Behind him were several mages, dressed in black attire and plague masks. Each of them had a purple glowing circle of magic underneath them.
There was also someone else. Someone standing right next to him.
Unlike the dark style of clothing the mages were wearing, this person was fully white, radiating a magical light blue aura. Their skin, hair and robes were all completely white, except for their eyes, which were a gleaming bright orange. Attached to their back were a shining red pair of wings, and a glowing crown on their head of the same colour. What caught Alastor's attention, however, was the weapon they were carrying in their right hand. It was a sword with a strangely shaped hilt, with two wing-shaped crossguards surrounding the handle. It also emitted bright orange energy. Curious, he tried to ask who they were, only to find that just like the others, he couldn't speak.
A familiar weight then dropped into his left hand. It was a sword with a silver blade and a golden crossguard with a red gem in the centre. A blue sheath had also somehow appeared on his belt.
Before he could question anything further, the white figure thrust back their left arm towards the mages. Almost as if in sync, Alastor found his right arm being propelled in the same direction. The mages' circles then began to radiate powerful magical energy. Alastor frantically tried to force his arm back, knowing what would come next if he lifted his arm.
But he couldn't stop it.
In fact, he didn't feel like stopping it.
For some reason unknown to Alastor, this felt completely natural. He and the figure lifted their arms to the sky, signalling the mages behind them to unleash a catastrophic spell on the battlefield below.
Back on the ground, Garen watched as a series of purple magical circles engraved with intricate runes spawned all around the field. A wyvern and its rider, a man in silver armour with light green hair, pointed towards a nearby cliff face. Seiros seemed to take that as her cue. Looking closer, Garen realised that there were people standing on top of the same cliffside.
Before he could take a further look at them, a paralysing feeling washed over his body. A sharp, mind-numbing pain could be felt in his chest. He looked down.
A spearhead had pierced his torso, having been driven straight through his heart. Coughing in agony as the spear was ripped from his body, he realised that this felt familiar to him. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a splash of his own blood, dripping into the ground below.
To Alastor's surprise, a large, green flash of light appeared on the battlefield. What emerged from it, however, was a magnificent winged dragon, its scales as white as snow. Roaring with rage, it darted amongst the pillars of magical darkness that were summoned by the circles, evading them with ease.
Sensing danger ahead, the mages behind him and the white figure dashed in front of them, quickly casting magical shields. The dragon, not holding back, blasted a ruinous stream of fire at the mages, clearly intending to raze them to the ground. The shields held for five seconds before the first one started to crack, and the heat got through.
Before he knew it, Alastor found himself consumed by fire.
The three of them abruptly sat up in their beds with cold sweat dripping down their faces, breathing heavily.
Garen patted his chest to find no traces of blood or broken skin. He let out a sigh of relief, before placing his fists on his forehead and clenching them tightly as deep sobs racked his body.
Ember shivered, readjusting the blankets around her body to regain the warmth she lost. She touched her cheek to find it wet, the traces of her tears glistening with morning light.
Alastor closed the half-open tome he had been reading before falling asleep the previous night. He got out of his bed and wandered to the window, gazing out to watch as the sun rose over the horizon.
Only one question was on their minds now.
"What in-"
"-the goddess' name-"
"-was that all about?"
Prologue: Visions of War