The rumbling of the stone platform beneath Byleth's feet deafened all other noise. Not even the sound of Felix walking back and forth, or the clanking of Gilbert's armor as he readied his axe and shield, could be heard. Despite the noise, it was somewhat peaceful.
Compared to the events that had transpired just a week before, it was a welcome break from the constant reports and reconstruction of the monastery.
The Sword of the Creator glowed in Byleth's hand, and he readied himself.
When the platform came to a stop, the stale air of the Holy Tomb hit him. Byleth wouldn't be surprised if no one had stepped foot inside it since Edelgard's attempt to steal the Crest Stones; dust covered everything, and several of the caskets were still propped open from when Empire soldiers had tried to claim the crest stones within.
"Did Lady Rhea's note detail what we could face down here, professor?" Gilbert asked, his voice barely above a reverent whisper. His steely eyes were glued to the architecture of the tomb. "By the Goddess, to be standing here, in this place…"
"It will be a waste of time if we don't find what we're looking for," Felix grunted, his hand on his sword's pommel. "Dusty bones and ghosts won't be able to help us."
"Much as your crude way of phrasing it is, well, crude," the stern voice of Seteth spoke out, and Byleth could see the shining of his spear nearby, "You are not incorrect. However, this is Rhea we are speaking of; she would not lead us into a pointless quest. If she saw fit to leave a note to go searching down here, then there must be something that can help us."
"Her note said that we will encounter resistance," Byleth finally said, his voice only barely above the monotone note it had held for all his life. "Whatever it is, we must push through it. Whatever's down here must be worth it."
"You misunderstand me, professor," Felix said. "I'm not worried about a trap. I'm looking forward to it."
Byleth's expression changed softly; a small furrowed brow, and a deepened frown. Felix had not changed much since he had slept, but he, just like every one of his students, had been harrowed by war, by having their homeland nearly entirely conquered by the Empire.
And it was unlikely that Dimitri would see fit to comfort any of them. Not when the wayward prince had seen nothing but bloodshed for five years himself.
In the end, Byleth was the first to step forward. The ethereal glow of the Holy Tomb washed over him again as his companions followed suit behind him. The coffins that had once been undisturbed still bore the signs of their rude awakening; shattered stone lids and crumbled rock scattered the ground. Byleth noticed the way Seteth was glowering at them, although he did not know why.
You know why, you just do not want to acknowledge it.
And there, towards the far back of the tomb, illuminated by the holy light, stood the throne, overlooking the wide expanse. Byleth felt a shiver run down his spine at the sight of it. He still wondered what, exactly, Rhea had planned to do if something had happened. Perhaps, when the war was over, he would be able to ask her.
There were more important matters to deal with.
Almost the moment they stepped into the Holy Tomb something shifted in the air. It was a subtle thing at first,almost like Byleth could feel the oscillations of energy, farther into the tomb.
Then, they arose.
Towering constructs hoisted themselves up on spindly limbs, their cast-metal faces turning to face the new intruders as light gathered in their arms. To their left and right, as if from the dust itself, ghostly warriors unsheathed their weapons, their expressions almost as stony as the constructs they shared their space with.
Byleth let out a sigh.
We should've known it wouldn't be that easy.
Cold.
It was the first sensation he felt, and it was one he never wanted to feel again. His body ached as the cold ebbed away, slowly, painfully, almost reluctantly. He felt it recede, and he let out a breath that he immediately couldn't take back.
There was no air.
Immediately, his fist bashed against the stone slab in front of him, and he felt it crack underneath the immense pressure. He could feel his eyes bulging out of their sockets as his mouth gaped open for the slightest bit of his life's breath. He brought his fists down over and over again, feeling the damned coffin lid loose its vice-like grip on the container. Near his ear, he could hear what sounded like warning sirens, but he paid them no mind. All that mattered was getting out as fast as possible.
With one final punch, the lid broke apart, splitting into several pieces. Some fell back on top of him, while others flew several feet away. The sound of shattering glass reached his ears as he greedily took in mouthfuls of air, drinking the sweet oxygen up as if it were water. The air was stale, but at that moment, it was the most precious thing in the world.
With great difficulty, he pulled himself out of the casket, the irritation in his side a far cry from the horrific pain that had once been there. Without taking a look around his surroundings, he held his hand there for a moment before holding it to the ethereal light that pervaded his world.
It came back red, but significantly less than what he thought he would see.
With one more deep breath, he hoisted himself out of the casket. He misjudged the strength in his legs and fell to the cold stone floor a moment later, his heart pounding in his ears. He let out a groan, barely cognizant of the world around him. At least, for a brief moment.
Then he heard the familiar sound of battle. The clanking of steel armor and the dull 'thump' of a body hitting the ground. He looked to his right to see a body slowly decaying into dust and echoes.
He backed away as someone in blue garb sped by him, not even acknowledging his existence. He could see the red glowing, through the fog and the blurred vision – that same glow the Relics used. The very ones that—
Something has happened.
His memory was clouded, like a foggy window. He had the memory of pain, but did not know where it was or who did it. Recalling his side, how he had checked it when he first awoke from his slumber – looking down, his eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as he saw the damage done to his armor. The flesh beneath was only mildly injured, but judging by the terrible state his armor was in, he knew it must have been something horrific.
Still, the glow of a Relic could not be ignored, and he knew Seiros would order their death anyway, no matter how much he would have pleaded. Not that he expected that they deserved much mercy, but perhaps some semblance of his old life still remained.
The life that held all life as precious, that was gone. He was the Champion, and he had a job to do.
Another glint caught his eye, near the throne that rested upon a large pedestal.
That crest…
He had no time to ponder what had happened or where he had ended up. He needed to act, and doddering around would only get him killed. Slowly, he moved. Holding one arm to his side to try and stop the faint bleeding, he used his other to propel him forward. The sounds of battle still roared in his ears, the red glow of two Relics making themselves known – they were impossible to ignore, with their sinister light. It just had to be the first thing he saw.
Before long, he made it, and not a moment too soon, as he could feel something, someone, staring at him. It sent chills down his spine, but he kept silent as he grabbed the shield.
It's hers.
The Shield of Seiros, emblazoned with the selfsame crest on its white metal face. It vibrated slightly at his touch, responding to him. He gritted his teeth as he stood up tall, not trying to hide himself anymore. Even with the slight burning in his side, he was able to face the one that would challenge him.
"I do not know who you are, or where we are," he said, his voice reverberating throughout the large room, "but know that I will not fall so easily—!"
He felt it before he could see it, his new shield bashing against something whip-like. It nearly knocked him off his feet, but he held firm and charged a moment later.
"Fine then!" he shouted, "we shall act as animals!"
He brought his left fist to bear on his unknown assailant, narrowly missing their face as they held their blade back. Two mint green eyes stared back at him, no emotion within. Along with their green hair, the person he was fighting was a—
That sword…!
He knew of it, seen it, and felt it. The wound in his side – that was where it came from, he was sure. He felt a chill go up his spine as his opponent swung it upwards, attempting to knock the shield out of his hands. Moving out of the way at the last second, he grabbed the green-haired man's arm and forced him to the side.
With his opponent scrambling on the floor, that accursed sword still in hand, he attempted to slam his shield against his face, only to have it meet solid ground. The stone beneath the blow crack, before he shouted in pain as his enemy kicked him in the jaw. The familiar taste of blood as it seeped into his mouth only served to propel him forward, doing everything in his power to defeat the man in front of him.
Then, almost as if on cue, a familiar voice rang out through the ghostly hall.
"Stop!"
Is that-?
A man stepped between him and the wielder of the Relic. Clad in blue robes, embroidered with golden outlines and a circlet around his forehead, he looked like a typical priest, perhaps a cardinal. But the face, the hair – he knew them all too well.
"Professor, stay your hand," the new arrival said, "this man is not your enemy."
"He attacked, like the rest of them. Is he not a ghost?" the 'professor' asked, his damned sword still trained on him. He would never get used to the unearthly glow of the Relics; they were abominations.
"Not a mere ghost, no," the robed man said, before standing up and putting his hands down. "Though, I must admit, I thought of that explanation when I first saw him fighting you."
"Cichol…" he said, his voice coming out as a shrill whisper. "This man, he wields-!"
"The Sword of the Creator, I know," he replied, "much has happened since last we spoke, old friend. More than I can recount in this tomb. But please, restrain yourself. None of us are enemies, Ashton."
With his old comrade saying his name, Ashton lowered his stance, rolling his shoulders before rubbing his chin. "Well, then. Perhaps you can explain it more when we leave this place… this tomb. I…"
Ashton looked over to where he thought he had come from, seeing the remains of a coffin, and inside, the eerie pale blue glow of technology. The last thing he remembered was the wound he received from the sword the 'professor' was wielding.
"Seteth, what did he just call you?" the professor asked. "What is going on?"
"Ah, yes… well, professor," Cichol began, although Ashton wasn't sure whether he should refer to him as such, given the surprise on the professor's face, showing through the terrifying blank expression from before. "Perhaps it is time that particular detail be put away. I am unsure what good it will do, but when we leave this place, trust that I will explain everything."
Slowly, the professor lowered his sword, and thus Ashton relaxed his stance. He looked around, noticing two others nearby, one holding-
The… Aegis Shield?
"And here I was, thinking that he was simply a defective spirit," the wielder of the Shield said, crossing his arms as he put the shield along his back. "If he was able to give the professor a good fight like that, with not even a sword to his name…"
"I won't ask what this is," the other man said – a middle-aged knight, by the look of him, with slight grey streaks in his long reddish-orange hair. "I feel as if it is not my place to know. Are we done here?"
Ashton's brows furrowed, looking from Cichol to the professor behind him, before sighing.
"I will not raise my hand against you," Ashton said, running a hand along the face of the Shield of Seiros. "But I am watching you. You wield the weapons of the 'Heroes' – I would not put it past you to stab me in the back with those aberrations of nature."
"Why does he speak like that?" the professor asked, tilting his head.
Cichol – or Seteth? – sighed. "I will tell you when we reach the surface, professor."
The journey to the surface lasted only a few minutes at best, but to Ashton, it felt like a small eternity. The delicate rumbling of the circle below them as it ascended rattled his bones. He felt almost as ancient as the structure itself.
Ashton had no idea if that was true or not, and the thought scared him.
When they finally reached the end, after nothing but silence, he was not greeted by fresh air – less stale air still flowed against his face, but they were simply in another underground area, marked with coffins of different make then the ones farther below. The silence persisted as they continued forward, and it covered him like a blanket. Ashton felt no different from the ghosts that the other had fought before.
Finally, after what felt like a century, Ashton felt fresh air. It was blisteringly cold, so much so his lungs felt as if they would seize up. But in that moment, it was the best sensation he could have hoped for. He felt alive. He closed his eyes and breathed it in, barely registering his surroundings.
When Ashton finally did, however, he was left in awe.
Ashton had seen the palace of Enbarr, glittering in the sun and the dew of an early morning, had seen vast armies stretch across the plains of Gronder like the limbs of a phantasmal beast, clawing at its rival, but the sight of standing in a cathedral, so much bigger than any he had ever seen, nearly rivaled the others. Even in the broken state it was in, he couldn't help but look around.
"He is acting as if he has never seen this place before," the wielder of the Aegis Shield noted, "Now I'm even more curious: how long did you spend down there, old man?"
Ashton's gaze whipped around to meet the younger man's red one. "I do not know where we are, but there was never a cathedral of this scale when last I was awake! This is… Cich- Seteth, what has happened? How long did I sleep for? Was I-?"
"Come with me," Seteth said, placing his hand on Ashton's shoulder for a moment before heading to the exit.
Ashton acquiesced, following Seteth through the cathedral. Only a few dedicated priests and priestesses seemed to be inside on the pews, with several knights talking among themselves, watching him as he followed his old friend. Ashton stared right back, taking note of their familiar armor. Of course, there were differences to the armor he saw soldiers wear before, but some things seemed to travel through the ages.
Much like himself, it seemed.
As Ashton and Seteth exited the cathedral, Ashton felt even chillier air hit him. Snow blanketed the long bridge to the other side, with a grey sky above lightly snowing. It would have been a beautiful sight, if it didn't make the architecture look grey and faded. The splendor of the cathedral didn't seem to reach outside. It was like the buildings themselves were tired.
Silently, Seteth led him into the building across the bridge, the cold seemingly not affecting him. It took Ashton a moment to realize they weren't being followed; the professor and the other two he did not know the name of must have stayed behind. A part of him was glad for that; he wouldn't need to see those weapons. To see Cichol walking alongside them was quite the shock.
It was a short walk after they crossed the bridge. After climbing a few sets of stairs, and down a hallway, Ashton found himself in what he assumed to be Seteth's office. A large desk sat near the far wall, scrolls and parchment stretched over it and in a small container to the side. On the left seemed like a poster board with several strange drawings sprawled across it.
Seteth rounded the desk and sat down, before quietly motioning towards another chair just beside it. Taking a deep breath, Ashton sat down. He swore he heard the sound of his spine cracking as he did so. Why did he feel so ancient all of a sudden?
"I apologize for being so terse," Seteth said, lacing his fingers together, "but these are extraordinary circumstances."
"Isn't everything?" Ashton replied with a small, humorless chuckle. "I see you fighting alongside people wielding Relics, Cichol. That- that is not something I expected to see. When last I was awake, we were still fighting against the use of them."
Seteth nodded. "Indeed. I do not much like the use of them either, but times have changed. They are powerful weapons, and such aspects cannot be ignored in these trying times."
Ashton raised a brow. "Another war?"
"There have been many, I am led to believe. But none bigger than ours was," Seteth replied. "Dagdan invasions, Almyran invasions, in-fighting within Fódlan itself; it saddens me to say that not much has changed since you were with us."
"How long, Cichol," Ashton pressed, his tanned face branded with a frown. "I want to know."
"Over a thousand years," Seteth answered, "as far I can tell. I didn't know that Seiros sequestered you within the Holy Tomb. Had I known, perhaps your first interaction with this new age wouldn't have been one of violence."
"Violence follows me everywhere, no matter how much I try to avoid it," Ashton mumbled. "A thousand years, then. They're all gone. All of them."
"They are remembered," Seteth said, "but… yes, they are gone. And now, we fight against their descendants."
Ashton looked up. "What? How? You said—"
"I have said nothing about who we were fighting against," Seteth replied, standing up and turning to look out the window as the snow fell. "It is a tall order to ask you to forget your prejudices, no matter how well-founded they are. The Heroes Relics and their wielders are no longer our enemy. It is ironic that we now face the descendants of the very people we fought beside, but perhaps that is the price for our hubris."
"Hubris? Nemesis wanted to conquer all of Fódlan!" Ashton said, tapping his finger against his knee, feeling as if he needed to do something, anything. And yet, he was rooted in place. "Tell me how we had hubris, and he did not! His will nearly resulted in your kind's extinction!"
"I know," Seteth nodded grimly. "I know, Ashton. I know of the atrocities committed by Nemesis, and it would do you good to not assume that you know better of that crime than I do."
Ashton opened his mouth to speak, to shout, but he found no words. After a moment, he slumped in his chair. "I am sorry, Cichol. Seteth. Whatever you may call yourself – that was insensitive of me. I did not mean to imply that. I am…"
"This is all a great shock to you, I know," Seteth said, sitting back down. "But do not lose your head. It is one of the few things about you that lasted through the war; it would be a shame for it to be lost to you now."
Ashton looked down at the floor, his mind a whirlwind. One thought bled into another until it all turned into white noise.
"Where is she?" Ashton finally asked, "where is Seiros? What happened to her?"
Seteth frown deepened. A bad sign.
"We believe that she is alive," Seteth replied, "but we do not know for how long. We have gathered intelligence that indicates she is being held captive in Enbarr."
"Our old stronghold…" Ashton breathed out, "you were not lying, were you? Wilhelm, has his descendant…?"
Seteth's lips thinned. "Yes."
"That could not have just happened overnight," Ashton mumbled, "there must be some reason for it. I know that it has been a thousand years, but we were – by the Goddess, Cichol, how did it come to this?"
"For more reasons than I can count," Seteth admitted, "They are rebels against the Church, however just they believe their cause to be. The answer for their worries should never have been bloodshed."
"Unless they simply thought no other way was possible," Ashton grumbled.
Seteth titled his head. "Perhaps they did. Perhaps there is even more going on behind the scenes. Flayn – Cethleann, as you know her – the Empire kidnapped her not more than five years ago. I do not know what they required from her; we have kept our true identities a secret for many years, and all that was known about Flayn was her blood had a major crest, and nothing more."
"So her blood," Ashton mused, before shaking her head. "You have been keeping your identities a secret, and yet there I was, blurting your name out at the earliest opportunity. I am sorry for that."
"The professor was already privy to our true relations," Seteth admitted, "it was only a matter of time until he discovered this as well. It is a little sooner than I had hoped, but perhaps it will do good to have this secret unraveled. Nothing good has come from keeping secrets in these times."
"I'm," Ashton began before swallowing. He closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. "I'm glad you are still here, at the very least. You and Cethleann, I suppose?"
Seteth nodded with a small smile. "Yes. She joined as a student of the Officer's Academy just a few years ago, before the war broke out. Professor Byleth was her teacher."
"Byleth. That's the one I fought against?" Ashton asked, "The one who wields that accursed blade. Time's must have changed drastically to see you fight alongside one who uses that sword."
"More than can be conveyed in a single conversation," Seteth said, crossing his arms. "All that we have discussed so far barely scratches the surface. Just know, in the future, that I am called Seteth now, not Cichol, and Cethleann is Flayn. And Seiros, she goes by Rhea now, although it will be some time before that will be relevant."
Ashton nodded before leaning forward in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose.
"This is a lot to take in, Cich- Seteth," Ashton whispered, "it has been a thousand years, so you have said, but to me those ancient days feel like yesterday. Only yesterday, I was holding my child in my arms. He was…" Ashton looked up. "What happened to him, Seteth? He must be- by the Goddess…"
Ashton suddenly felt very cold.
Seteth's stern gaze softened. "That is-"
The former saint was interrupted as the door opened, revealing Byleth. Ashton turned to him, his gaze impassionate.
"And there is the professor," Ashton said, looking down at Byleth's hip and grimacing when he saw the Sword of the Creator. "I believe I owe you an apology."
"Save it," Byleth replied, stepping into the room fully. His mint-green eyes never left Ashton's. "I want to know what is going on."
"Not a man to mince words, I see," Ashton sighed.
"Believe it or not, it took some time before he could string together more than a sentence or two," Seteth commented.
"He called you Cichol," Byleth said, crossing his arms. "And I know that you and Flayn are not brother and sister. So, that means that you are…"
He stopped, no doubt expecting Seteth to finish the sentence for him.
"I did promise you an explanation, professor," Seteth admitted as Ashton rapped his knuckles against the desk. "And I suppose you have already come to the conclusion yourself. True to Ashton's… words, my name was once Cichol. The very same 'saint' that fought alongside Seiros to end Nemesis' reign of terror, a millennium ago."
"That would make Flayn Cethleann," Byleth said, bringing a hand to his chin. "And thus, Rhea would Seiros, correct?"
"He is a sharp one," Ashton said. "You were able to extrapolate that with only one word said, hmm? I am glad I am not your enemy."
"You were, just a few hours ago," Byleth pointed out, "but I am glad to see that Seteth was able to calm you down."
Ashton's brow furrowed. "Indeed. I have no doubt that you will have need of me. You are fighting a war against Adrestia. Against the descendants of the selfsame people I and Ci-Seteth fought alongside. And Seiros – Rhea, as you know her – I need to find her. I must find her."
Byleth raised a brow, looking between Seteth and Ashton. "I was already planning that. I want answers."
Ashton nodded. "I'm sure you would, professor. As would I. Even with everything Seteth has explained to me, I still have more questions than answers."
"As I said," Seteth interjected, "the situation is complicated beyond measure. To explain everything in a single conversation would be blindly idealistic at best. You will learn more simply by interacting with the people of Garreg Mach."
"You have a story," Byleth stated, "one I think I wouldn't mind hearing."
Ashton raised a brow, crossing his arms as he laid one leg of the other. "Have I piqued your interest, professor?"
"I am sure several of my former students would love to have a conversation with you," Byleth replied, "and with Seteth and Flayn, too, after what has been revealed today."
"I am afraid I will need to disappoint them," Ashton said with a sigh, "I am not in any position to be answering questions. Not in my current state."
"I know, but I still want you to tell me all that happened to you," Byleth pressed. "Everything."
Ashton's eyes narrowed as he exchanged a look with Seteth.
"I must ask: why?" Ashton said, "Why are you so eager to learn more about me, professor? You and I have barely spoken to one another; we are complete strangers. There must be some reason as to why you want this."
Byleth stared at Ashton for a moment before speaking again. "It has to do with why my hair is this color. Why my eyes have changed," Byleth ran a hand through his hair. "I asked Seteth why. He said Rhea never told him why I am this way. I want to – I need to know why. And if there is anything in your tale, any hint as to why I am like this, I want to figure it out for myself."
Ashton blinked before nodding. "I doubt you will get anything useful out of this old ghost, professor," he replied, "but if you think it would help, and if Seteth has no problem hearing this part of the war again, then I see no reason why I can't."
"I already spoke of the biggest reveals," Seteth said, "if the professor wants to hear it, then there is no reason to not acquiesce."
Ashton rubbed his forehead, feeling as if Byleth was studying every part of him. Why did those eyes seem so familiar? He couldn't come up with an answer, and the more the professor stared, the more unnerved Ashton became.
"Before I begin," Ashton said, leaning forward, "there is something I must tell you. I am not of this world."
Alright, here we go. I've gotten a few reviews and PMs asking if I'd do a 3H fic, and considering how Equinox ended, the answer was obvious lol.
I'm uploading this early as a Christmas present, but this doesn't mean the weekly cycle is starting yet. I'll let you guys mull over this for a while before I start that up again. Currently thinking the fic will update again around January 15th, but depending on how that month goes due to, well, many different things, that's liable to change.
Anyway, hope you guys end up enjoying this story! Lord knows I've enjoyed writing the first few chapters so far lol.
Here's a link to our Discord: discord .gg/9XG3U7a
See you guys later!
