Again, I don't own Fire Emblem, just my creations. Well, I hope you enjoyed chapter 1, although I guess you wouldn't be here otherwise. So have fun!
Chapter Two: From the Ashes
Blackhawk faced the wyvern knight that had killed his wife. The man wore the green-and-black armour of his squad, with long, unkempt black hair eclipsing his right eye. He had the look of a fanatic in his smile and sunken left eye.
"Ah, Blackhawk Windweeper," spat the rider. "Blademaster of clan Crimson Cross, husband to Kelesea, father of the Ivaar family. I've been sent to kill you. Don't take it personally, my friend; I was sent to kill everyone in this backwater village. I was warned especially of you and Kelesea, however – you, a deserting captain of Kallra's army, well on his way to becoming a general, and Kelesea, the temptress swordmaster of your homeland. Kelesea, however, was no great challenge… I hope she made you blademaster for a reason."
Blackhawk's eyes narrowed, and he dropped into a fighting crouch. "Who do you think you are, speaking ill of the greatest tribe of the Epesans? Of my wife?"
The man's eerie smile broadened. "I am called Scream, by my master. General Scream, by most else. I've delayed this long enough, Blackhawk. I'm killing you now."
Heeling his wyvern forward into a charge, Scream levelled his lance at Blackhawk's chest. At what seemed the last possible moment, Trotts' father jumped up, landing on the wyvern's head. He stomped his heel down, jarring the animal, and aimed a slash at Scream's neck. It glanced off the man's high metal collar with a ringing noise. The wyvern shook itself, and Blackhawk flew. As he fell, he saw his town burning, mindless slaughter everywhere by the Kallra army. He rolled as he hit the ground to soften the impact, but he felt his sword arm's collarbone break. He switched arms, not caring. Kelesea had made him Blademaster for a reason.
Scream came at him again. This time, he dodged the man's first thrust, and parried the second. As the third came, he feinted left, then right, and charged straight for the man's undefended side. As his sword just began to punch through the rider's breastplate, a charging cavalier suddenly knocked him down. Hooves trampled him, crushing ribs, legs, shattering his jawbone. And he knew it was over. Scream dismounted, the white sword sliding to the ground with the impact of his feet hitting ground. Raising his lance, the man loomed over Blackhawk's motionless form. He lowered himself until his creepy face was a foot from Blackhawk's.
"That was fun." He stabbed down twice, quickly, and it was over. Mounting, he shouted, rallying his troops, and flew off, leaving the village to burn.
Trotts awoke three days later to find only ashes and the stench of death. Rising slowly and stiffly, his eyes scanned vainly for some sign of life, but he only saw smouldering rubble and corpses. "Hello? HELLO?" Scrabbling about, hoping against hope, he searched the ruins for hours. Finally, he sunk down and leaned against what had been Kenzie Tyral's house, and cried. He wept so long that the ashes at his feet turned to mud, so long that he couldn't shed another tear. And when he could cry no longer, he just sat there, wishing he could.
At length he rose, and found where the podium had been. Turning Kelesea's body over, he looked into her sightless eyes. After staring at the ashes he had risen from for so long, he had found his name. "My name… is Phoenix." Closing her eyes with his fingertips, Phoenix Ivaar Crimsoncross strode from the village without a look back.