She sprang upright, her muscles at long last obeying her commands to move and she nearly threw herself across the bed. The dream still clung to her and she could feel the boy's blood, sticky and hot on her face and skin. Her shift, damp with sweat, felt too much like the blood that had coated her body. A pitiful whimpering sound dribbled from her mouth as she clawed at her sweat drenched face and the length of her arms, trying in a frantic attempt to clean it away.

Gradually the nightmare lost it's hold on her and Byleth realized that she was still in the bed chamber at Castle Gautier and Dimitri slept peacefully beside her. His bare chest rose and fell with deep slumbering breath and she wondered how he'd managed to stay asleep through her flailing. Regardless, she hesitated to wake him for comfort. He'd want her to tell him about her dream and the details were still too painful to dwell on.

Her gaze lingered on his face as her breathing began to even out. And soon, she could tell herself that it had been a dream and believe that as truth. He looked so warm and her skin was beginning to chill from the sweat in the cold chamber air that she'd almost decided to attempt to sleep again when something caught her eye near the door.

There was a white light where there shouldn't be any and, as she turned to look more closely, she found the door ajar. The light was coming from the hallway beyond, shining too bright and steady to be a torch or candle. She could find no evidence that someone had been in their room but she watched the crack in the door with fixed concentration for a movement or shadow.

Without pulling her eyes from the door, she groped behind her to catch Dimitri's arm. Her fingertips brushed his skin and then, with the next reach, her palm clapped down on the flesh of his arm. When he did not stir she slapped harder then took hold of his arm to shake him awake.

"Dimitri," she hissed. "Wake up!"

When he didn't, she pulled her eyes away from the door to find him blissfully asleep.

"Dimitri?"

She gave another sharp shake at his shoulder but nothing more than a shift in the steady rhythm of his breath. With a darting glance to the door, she turned to face him more fully. Was he truly sleeping too deeply to rouse? Her father had been like that sometimes but she also wondered whether or not she was actually awake.

The light beyond the door began to pulsate, growing bright enough to cast it's light on the far wall before dimming. No sooner had she turned back to examine the door than she heard the music.

Her blood ran cold as the falling notes she'd heard from the void came soft but clear from beyond the door. As she watched, the light shifted away from the open door as it pulsed again. Fresh sweat began to bead on her brow as her body attempted to recoil at the memory of the darkness but she had no time to delay, it was getting away.

Scrambling out of bed she bolted to the door, neglecting shoes or even a robe in her haste. The night air bit at her bare arms and legs but she hardly noticed. Without giving herself to consider what she might find on the other side of the door, she threw it open and darted into the corridor.

It was empty. Lit by dim torchlight, it was just as she'd remembered it from earlier that evening. The light was gone and the music with it. She was still uneasy and the presence of unseen eyes remained. It made her skin crawl.

Stepping further from her room, Byleth realized that there should be a guard at their door. At least one member of the company they'd brought should have been posted if not two but there was no sign of them or anyone for that matter. A castle this size should have activity of some sort even in the dead of night.

Her gaze shifted, looking further down the passage and there, at the far end past the arched landing and stairs beyond. The white light continued to throb just around the curve of the stairs and the music began to play again. Sparing one last glance to her husband's sleeping form in bed, Byleth took off at a run. Her feet slapped loudly on the stone floor, she'd chosen speed over stealth and hoped to over take it before it could move again.

Skidding to a stop around the curved landing, she found that it had moved. Once again, the source of the light was just out of sight further down the descending flight of stairs. Curiously, she didn't see it move and there was no shadow from whoever was casting the spell or held the lantern. In fact, she wasn't sure if there was a source. Tucking that disquieting thought aside, Byleth decided that stealth might be the better tactic after all and began her creeping pursuit.

Even as she closed in on it, the light continued to shift just out of direct sight. Strangely enough the music and the pulse of the light remained unchanged, regardless of how far away or how close she seemed to be. Before she knew it, she'd lost count of the twists and turns and how many times she'd alighted a flight of steps.

The castle remained eerily quiet and in that silence the repeated melody played soft and clear. Byleth swore that she'd heard it before, long before she'd heard it in the void. Each time the memory rose in her mind, just when she could almost grasp it, it slipped away or stuck fast on the periphery of her mind.

She was so preoccupied with the haunting song, that she did not notice the stone growing colder beneath her bare feet nor the presence of torches mounted on the wall lessen. Bound and determined, goddess only knew why, Byleth followed along under the premise that she was in pursuit rather than being led into the depths of the castle.

Suddenly, she was jarred out of her hunt when her foot splashed into a shallow puddle on the floor. The shock of the frigid water between her toes brought her crashing into her surroundings with startling clarity. She'd begun in a bare but decently lit corridor but now found herself at the bottom of a long flight of stone stairs. The light she'd been pursuing now throbbed from behind a door at the end of this pitch black hallway. She doubted that light could reach this place even in the middle of the day.

There was not a single torch or candle along the walls and the strange light cast pale, bleak slivers on the walls and ceiling. With each cycle, the pinnacle of light revealed the sturdy metal doors that ran long the passage and the damp stone walls. It did not appear to have another exit. From what she could surmise, the stairs were the only way in or out of this place.

Pressure in her chest reminded her not to hold her breath and she realized she'd been standing with one foot on the final stair and the other in the icy puddle. She wondered, as she blinked into the darkness, if it was prudent to follow this strange light. But then again, perhaps she was dreaming again.

Byleth gave herself a shake. She'd faced more terrifying things than an ominous dark hallway. In fact, she couldn't quite name what she was afraid of. With a deep breath, she steeled herself to continue. After all, she'd come too far to turn back now.

Each door she approached felt like it housed some unnamed horror waiting to spring out at her. As she passed them, she forced herself not to dash ahead. How ridiculous to imagine that the doors would swing open as she passed? She managed this artificial courage by staying focused on the door framed in light with each throb of the light and the lure of the song.

Just as the door was in arms reach he music abruptly stopped. The sound of her own breathing filled her ears and the drip, drip, dripping of water somewhere within. The quiet pressed in around her, expanding and contracting with her breath. Even without the music, the light continued to pulse, it's shine pushing back the darkness near the frame and the narrow slotted window in the door.

Once again, she bolstered her courage against a fear unseen and she closed the distance remaining between herself and the door. Now that she stood so close, she found it was thick reinforced metal. The hinges were discolored perhaps from neglect or from lack of motion. Byleth realized that she must be in the lower levels of the castle, possibly below ground which explained the damp stones and dank smelling air.

The slot was set high in the door and she had to raise up onto her toes to peer through. The light inside was so bright that it burned her eyes. Jerking back with a hiss, No matter how she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes but spots continued to mar her vision.

After a moment, she found that the traces of light had cleared and that the frame of the door was still illuminated. She raised her hand to take hold of the handle but stopped. What if this wasn't a dream? What if she were actually in the depths of Castle Gautier? Gazing up at the door, it dawned on her that she must be in the jail or dungeon of the castle which made her all the more uneasy.

If this was not a dream, the door would be locked and that would be the end of that. But if this was a dream…

Hesitating, she extended her hand toward the handle all the while her gaze darting nervously up to the little window as though she expected a specter or a face might suddenly jump into view. As her fingertips brushed the cold metal handle, the door sprang open, lurching with a dull creak. As it did, the light within expired, leaving her alone in the inky blackness of the hallway.

The sound of her nervous swallow was deafening in her ears and her fingers twitched as she worked furiously to muster the courage to proceed. Finally, in a rush lest she lose her nerve, Byleth took hold of the handle and wrenched the heavy door fully open.

The straw covered floor beyond housed an abandoned table and a scattering of low stools, presumably for the guards who were nowhere to be seen. A few torches burned lowly in sconces but compared to the dark in the corridor behind her, the chamber was positively cheerful. It was disturbingly mundane.

For what felt like an eternity, Byleth lingered in the doorway, sweeping her gaze across the room before treading cautiously inside. A drip from somewhere echoed as it hit the floor. It sounded like condensation falling from stone spires in the depth of a cave which conjured images of beasts or monsters lurking in its depths.

The silence charged the air in wake of the music. It was so absolute that it buzzed in her ears. What was she supposed to do here? Why had she been brought here? There was nothing in the light to answer these questions. As she feared, the answers she sought were likely down the shadowy corridor that ran the length of the rest of the room between rows of cells.

Past the first cell, the dark condensed until the torchlight couldn't penetrate it. Byleth cursed as she squinted, trying to see further than the first empty cages but it was no surprise when she could not. With her first step forward, her foot fell into a moist part of the floor where the straw hadn't quite absorbed all the moisture collecting on the stone floor. For the second time, she hissed and shook her foot but the slimy feeling between her toes persisted. Why hadn't she thought to put on shoes?

Nearing the thin walkway between the rows of cells, the rattle of a chain made her stomach leap into her throat. She froze, eyes darting this way and that for whatever had made the sound. Again her imagination sprang to life, filling the inky darkness with terrifying things living within the cages. A demonic beast? Some pale creature not accustomed to the daylight with translucent skin and sightless eyes? Perhaps nothing at all was watching her from the darkness, just as it had within the abyss.

Before she'd instructed it to do so, her arm jutted out to take hold of the torch at the mouth of the cell block. The light shook in her hand as she held it aloft. When nothing crept up through the shadows toward her, she shook her head and her breath rushed out of her. Jumping at shadows now. How shameful. But, there was no shame in bringing a source of light where there were none to begin with.

The pool of light about her feet seemed to quiver against the darkness as she stepped off the straw coated floor onto the icy stone walkway, offering little comfort as she crept along. She was inexplicably afraid that the darkness would push in against her torch, sealing the light until it was suffocated and doused beneath its weight. Focusing on the circle instead of the blood pounding in her ears, she almost missed the flash of movement from within one of the cells. Had the chains not rattled, she would have passed it entirely.

Her throat was dry. Too dry for her to call out and so she stepped closer, holding the torch up. She caught a bare foot on the stone on the edge of the torchlight but as it brightened and moved closer, the owner jerked it back as though burnt. The whimper that accompanied the movement was almost too soft to hear.

She squinted into the shadows, leaning closer to the bars than she wanted to. There, chained to the wall by wrists aloft was a dark haired woman. She had pushed back against the wall as though she wanted to disappear through it. Her eyes squeezed shut and she turned her head to push her cheek against the wall. Byleth's lips parted, her jaw slack as the light reflected off the metal circling the woman's neck.

Anger hot enough to push aside the fear in her stomach ignited as she realized this was one of the soldiers being held. A sister who had survived like she was shackled about the wrists and neck to the back wall of a desolate cell. Without thinking, she took hold of the door. Upon finding it locked, she pulled, jerking and banging, trying to force it open.

"No. Please." The prisoner moaned piteously and pushed herself as flat as she could against the wall, twisting painfully at the spots where her wrists were held. Her voice was as dry the wind in dead leaves as it scratched across Byleth's ears.

"I'm going to get you out of here," Byleth murmured as gently as she could then tried the door again.

"YOU DON'T BELONG HERE!"

The bellow hit her from behind with such force that she nearly stumbled against the bars. She spun around, wielding the torch like a cudgel but whoever had shouted was not to be seen.

"Who…" she started. A lick to her lips found them dry and it was with concentrated effort that she collected her voice to command. "Who's there?"

The laugher that drifted from the cell in front of her made her skin crawl. Behind her, the woman moaned wordlessly and began to cry. Her soft sobs mingled with the laugh that had grown to a maddening cackle and Byleth winced. Her stomach pitched and she thought she might be sick.

The laughter halted abruptly. "You're not right," hissed the masculine voice from the depths of the cell across the walkway.

"What do you mean?" Byleth ventured closer. Cautiously, she raised the torch to prevent another outburst or carelessly hurting the prisoner with it. The light inched along the stone floor and through the bars to the other side.

Where the woman had shrunk away from the light, the occupant of this cell railed against it. As the weak bubble of light caught his feet he shouted and his chains rattled with such ferocity that they might have broken or choked him.

"TAKE IT AWAY TAKE IT AWAY TAKE IT AWAY!"

His voice broke with the force and volume of his baying demand but he did not stop. Her light revealed a man in his middle years shackled in the same fashion as the woman. His head had been shaved but sections of scalp bore plain evidence of violently torn hair. Dark eyes bulged as he struggled against the shackle at his neck and spittle flew from his mouth like a rabid dog.

Byleth arched the torch back away from the cell as quickly as she could and as the light left it's confines, the man calmed. His breath was ragged and it was no wonder considering how he'd been tugging against his restraints.

"You shouldn't be here," he rasped.
"You shouldn't be here," faintly repeated the woman behind her.

The barrage of intense sound in front of her had distracted her entirely from the ghostlike woman behind her. Byleth jumped like a child at the sound of her voice.

"You shouldn't be here."
"You shouldn't be here."

They repeated over and over again, their voices bouncing off the walls, filling the space until Byleth couldn't tell which one had spoken first. Something inside of her told her to run as panic raced through her limbs but her feet would not move. Instead she held her torch tightly and attempted to top them with a shouted "Who are you!?"

All was startlingly quiet. The silence left Byleth shaking where she stood and the voices of the prisoners still rang in her ears. The torch light quivered with her breath and she realized her arm was trembling.

"Who are you?!" she repeated, hoping that she sounded more authoritative than she felt.

"Answer me!" her shout was hollow. Had it even left the ring of light from her torch?

"That's up to you."

This voice was smooth as silk, neither masculine or feminine, disturbing in it's control. Byleth spun around searching for the speaker. She'd felt someone directly behind her but when she shone the light in that direction she found nothing. The two other prisoners had grown eerily silent at the third voice.

"Where are you?" Byleth asked softly.

Even without an answer, her attention was drawn to the cell along the back wall. Instead of bars, it was plated with thick metal and there was no viewing window. Shuffling her feet along the cold stone floor, Byleth inched her way closer to the door even though her core screamed at her not to advance.

"I am here."

How did the voice sound so clear when sealed behind such a thick door? It was then that Byelth realized that she was hearing the voice inside of her head. Her stomach dropped and her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. That is how the sound was not muffled from behind the door.

"How are you doing this?" she whispered.

"You know."

She shook her head as a memory just on the periphery of her mind tried to shift into focus. She could grasp the answer if only she could focus. As she concentrated her head began to ache at the temples and, the harder she thought, the pain began to spread across her scalp, searing into her skin. The memory of the pain from the night before drove whatever she'd been struggling to remember away and she relented.

"Are you the soldiers that fell into the abyss?" she asked as the pain subsided.

"Fell?" the voice sounded amused.
"Fell. Fell! FELL!" The two behind her picked up the words in a violent wail that shook her to her bones.

"There was no falling."

The voice was disturbing and disorienting, cooing within her mind with the shrieks pitching higher and higher pummeling her ears without. Her knees were near buckling and she wished desperately that they would stop.

Suddenly, they did.

"They will be quiet now."

A lump had formed in her throat and with effort she swallowed and took another few steps closer to the door. "You're the one who saw it first? Anton's man."

The voice hummed in her head, mulling over her question or their response or both. "I am the beginning."

"The beginning of what?"

"All of this. But not that."

"I don't understand."

"You do."

Again that thought at the edge of her mind pricked her. It gnawed as though begging to be scratched but she dare not lose her focus despite the prisoners being chained. She had an irrational fear of something leaping out from the shadows unseen and deadly.

"Come and see me. Let me take a look at you."

Beneath the smooth quality of the voice, there was a chill or a lack of, something tangible. She could not imagine that the person who belonged to this voice had ever seen the sun or laughed with friends and family. This voice was dead, or rather without life. But how could it be both dead and speaking to her? That couldn't be right.

"I don't have the key," Byleth ventured, hoping that the excuse would satisfy.

Much as she knew it would, deep down in the pit of her stomach, the door unlatched silently. There should have been some sound, even a well greased door would screech as the latch was drawn back. It opened just enough for her to slip her fingers through. The small crack seemed to leak darkness through it, despite the shadow already in the room, the quality of this inky blackness reminded her of the abyss or of the dark dimension and again, her mind urged her to flee.

Her torch quivered again and, looking to the floor, she watched in growing horror as the dark flowed forward, pushing back the ring of light as though it were the tide on the beach. A quick step back saved her for only a moment, the torch trembled as it was assailed from behind. Inky shadows seeped down the walkway and through the bars of the cells. She could neither run nor advance.

The impenetrable darkness winked out her pool of light and the burning embers in her torch doused without a hiss. One moment they were burning and the next, they were not. Her stomach twisted and her breath spilled out of her, rising in a thin mist to pass her eyes.

"You are afraid."

The voice hummed again. The sound vibrated like bees between her ears and a shake of her head did nothing but stir them. Anger surged again to flashed across her mind at the invasion. "Get out of my head!"

But the humming remained and soon began to shift into a melody. One that she remembered and had been pursuing since that afternoon. Like lightning she knew the secret was in that cell. She knew it as certainly as she had known in the abyss.

Despite her fear, she ventured forward. Even without a flame to top it, the torch could be used to hit or defend against whatever lurked in the cell. If it was a human. The thought came to her as a nightmare does right after you've decided you're dreaming. Nothing to do for it now.

The iron of the door burned her fingers. It was so cold. Afraid that her skin would freeze to the metal surface she flung the door open. She did not even hear it collide with the stone wall. The darkness within was just as solid as she had feared but now, she could hear the person within breathing. The breath was heavy and raspy, at odds with the beautiful voice she'd heard in her mind. Chains rattled just as they had with the others. But unlike the others, she had no light with which to see.

Two pinpoints of faintly glowing light throbbed in the pitch, so small that she might have missed them, and they were focused on her. She knew they were eyes. Reminiscent of the ghouls in stories that lurked in swamps or caves, she imagined a thin, starved creature waiting to catch hold of her should she get too close.

But unlike eyes, these lights did not blink. They fixed on her and she felt utterly exposed and helpless.

"Who are you?" she asked again. Her voice light under the weight of her fear, seemed to carry as far as her nose before it hit the thickness wall darkness and stopped.

"I told you," said the voice in her head.

"I don't mean you," Byleth hoped her voice was not shaking as badly as her hands. "Who is in the cell? Who am I looking at?"

"Something made and unmade."

The specks of light shifted, swaying from side to side as they talked about it.

"It once thought it was something. But now it is not. It knows and cannot unknow it. It is sad."

The person or thing in the blackness let out a low, solemn sound and it pierced her like a dagger. The chains rattled and it's wail was so weak, Byleth wondered if it was able to make more noise than that.

"Don't feel sad for it. This is it's nature. It's best that it knows now."

This voice, this thing in her mind, thought it knew so much. To dismiss this creature that might have been a human once as an "it" and describe it with such callousness was unforgivable. She was sick of games and sick of gods and creatures and beings who thought they knew anger within her built as these thoughts tumbled one after another through her brain until she was certain that she would explode.

"Show yourself!" She shouted, careless of the danger that pricked her skin. "You think you know so much, show yourself!"

The voice was silent. Gritting her teeth against the urge to bellow again, she looked this way and that for some sign that her challenge had been answered. Tangible silence was all that met her and not even the dripping of water could be heard above the breathing from the cell and her own.

All at once, a bang like a cannon sounded at the front of the prison making her jump and spin quickly around just in time to see the dust settle from the massive door that led to the outer hallway. Eyes wide and stance wide, she turned back to face the darkness in the cell.

A strangled sound ripped from her throat finding the ghostly, pale eyes inches from her face. Byleth dropped the torch in her surprise and stumbled back before she could collect herself.

"You are ready to see," the voice in her mind said. The sound echoed back and forth in her mind, bouncing and redoubling on itself until she couldn't see straight for the sounds inside of her skull.
The eyes before her swayed, perhaps the body they belonged to was moving? They seemed somehow detached from any human body. Unable to focus she staggered back again, trying to distance herself from it but the darkness stiffened to wrap around her in icy unseen fingers. The hands she felt on her were countless and she failed, struggling as they closed tightly around her.

Shouting with her effort, her arm broke free and swung until her fist connected with something solid. It was the man with the shaved head. His eyes were sunken in and the pupils glowed a pale sickly green just like the eyes in the dark cell. He was undisturbed by the strike of her hand and her stomach plummeted inside of her as the futility of her struggle became clear.

Still she kicked and swung her arms but there was nothing to land on as the countess hands she could not see squeezed around her arms and legs. Banging, metallic and harsh, filled the air as doors and chains slammed and rattled. The cacophony was too much to bear. She felt like she was being torn apart from inside and out as she struggled to form a cohesive thought.

The fingers that had closed on her limbs began to pull, clutching at her nightgown as well as her limbs as they did so. Hands flattened to her back, pushing her forward and it was with a primal desperate effort she dug her bare heels into the floor. The stone scratched and tore at the skin on her soles but she did not relent.

Wild, frightened eyes snapped forward and she realized with mounting terror that she was being drawn into the darkness of the cell ahead of her. The eyes were there, right on the threshold, gazing at her with a new fire that had not been there before. They glowed an unnatural green. They were hungry and they were waiting.

"No!" she howled, locking her knees and twisting as best she could to stop the advance. Delay it as she might, her forward progress continued. "No!"

As if her defiance provoked them, the invisible hands shifted her weight and her feet left the ground effortlessly. The world around her tilted as she was lifted helplessly onto her back. The hands and fingers dug into her legs and arms, restraining her to stillness, but her unsupported head lolled back to gaze back at the inverted hallway and the torchlight just beyond in the straw covered entry.

"Help me!" she shouted as her desperation peaked. They were bearing her onward and she could do nothing to stop it. "Someone, goddess, help me!"

With an effort, she hoisted her head upright and hysteria gripped her as the gaping door and the darkness within drew ever closer. The banging and rattling of chains hadn't stopped and she was certain that her cries for help would never leave this place.

"Please. Please don't do this!" she implored, looking to the face of the woman in the first cell. But her plea fell on deaf ears as the woman's pale, glowing eyes remained fixed on the darkness beyond the door.

She could feel the bite from the cold leaking from the open door on her skin and the air around her began to stir. The gaping door to the cell, gluttonous and insatiable sucked at the air, drawing straw and dirt from the ground and whipping her hair around her face and roaring as it grew.

A deathly cold began to seep through the soles of her feet as they were carried past the threshold of the door. It penetrated her bones, burning like icy water. She screamed in fear and pain, throwing her head back to look with waning hope to the only light she could find.

"Don't be afraid." The voice cooed but she could not be soothed. "This will be over soon."

The cutting chill spread to her calves and her knees. Her feet were completely numb from the icy bite and she thought that her bones would snap with the slightest pressure. Water collected in the corners of her eyes as the pain spiked beyond any she'd felt before. In mere moments she would be on the other side of oblivion.

But as her hips crossed into the frigid darkness, another sensation began to tingle around her. Unable to focus on the sensation beyond the chattering of her teeth, she still found it to be familiar. The feel of electricity charged the air around her, crackling and sparking to life. The bright specks were so brilliant in contrast to the darkness that it stunk her eyes. She closed them tightly but the light continued to explode on the other side of her eyelids.

Then, the magic sealed around her tight as a second skin. It burned against the numbness in her legs and snapped like someone had drawn back a bowstring and released it. She was on the ground. There were still hands on her and she screamed, kicking and swinging with her eyes still shut.

"Your majesty, you must open your eyes!"

The air still whipped around her but the hands on her were warm. She opened her eyes, wincing at the light from the torches and found herself looking up into the gray face of Father Hobbs. The wind had increased, drawing what remained of this thinning hair and his clerical robes away from his frame. A nun dressed in white kneeled beside them, her hand clasped her hat to protect it from being drawn into the cell block.

"Father!" She had to shout to be heard above the wailing of the wind and the banging of the cell doors. "We must leave!"

He nodded and shoved his arms unceremoniously beneath Byleth's armpits. "Can you move, Majesty?"

She tested her legs but the freezing cold remained in her marrow. "I can't!"

"Father! They are coming!"

She followed the nun's shouts and an involuntary scream ripped from her throat as three prisoners approached the edge of the darkness. Their eyes glowed tracing in the shadows with their movements and their skin was unearthly pale. They covered ground quickly, somehow moving at a walk but nearing as though they were running.

"Help me!"Hobbs shouted.

The pair grabbed hold of Byleth awkwardly by the arm, sleeve and under the armpits to drag her to the door where another nun in white stood, bracing the heavy door open with her body. Her hat was long gone and her red hair had torn from her braids to fly around her head. She strained, pushing her back against the thick metal door.

As the pair dragged her with agonizing slowness toward the door, the wind pulled harder, lifting her feet off the ground. The shouts of the priest and nuns were lost in the maelstrom.

Byleth watched in horror as the wall mounted torches winked out and the specters who had been held at bay by the light gained on them. Hands, pale and translucent extended toward her. She was within arms reach. The nails of one scratched along her calf. Then her heels felt the hard, wet stone of the outer passage and the door slammed shut behind her.

The corridor was all darkness and the father dropped her to crumple on the floor. He and the sisters collapsed, breathing heavily and panting. The sister who had been supporting the door clutched at her chest and the prayer falling from her lips sounded more like an invocation

The din that had filled the prison seemed to have stopped the moment the door had banged shut. This left her questioning if she had imagined the whole thing. If Father Hobbs hadn't been doubled over next to her struggling to catch his breath, she might have believed it was.

"How did you find me?" she asked when her voice had steadied.

"We came to check on the soldiers." The nun's voice was shaking just as badly as her clinging hands. "It took all three of us to open the door."

"Father Hobbs used Rescue to pull you back," said the other.

"Ah," said Byleth hollowly. "That is what I felt."

Her limbs felt frozen through. If she could have laid still for hours it might not have been enough to regain her strength. She could still feel the fingers, long and boney but grasping with an unnatural strength. Blood still pounded through her veins, throbbing in her head in the absence of sound and the voice.

"Sister," the Father's voice was thick as he worked to recover his breath. "Go and rouse the King and Lord Gautier. They must know what has happened."

The woman nodded and ran as quickly as if she were being pursued and her footfalls gradually faded away leaving them alone in the darkness. The silence between them was charged with the unasked questions Father Hobbs was too afraid or too exhausted to ask.

Finally Byleth spoke. "Father. What did you see when you came in?"

Pretending not to hear, he shifted to kneel next to her having spent so much time doubled over with his knees gripped in his hands. "Can you stand, your majesty?"

Acknowledgement passed between the two of them. He would not pry and she would not divulge anything yet. She should not mistake his questions and his rescue for care. It was, as he said earlier that evening, his duty as a servant of Serios and the goddess.

"Yes."

He offered her a hand which she did not take. Rather, she forced herself to roll to her side and push up. The dampness of the floor was a welcome change to the stinging cold she'd felt in the prison at the hands of the specters. With much effort, she lurched to her feet. The wall was a welcome support and the dark masked her shaky knees.

"Allow me to…" he began with no warmth in his voice. This time she interrupted him.

"Lead me back to my chambers."

She could not see the grimace spread across his face in the darkness but she heard it in his voice. She could just make out his hands move to his chest and a bend at the waist.

"Right away, your majesty."