The moment Felix entered the room, Sylvain excused himself. Propriety demanded that he should, but Felix saw all of Sylvain's military leaders smiling.

As soon as the door closed and the two were alone in the hallway, Sylvain's lips were on his.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Sylvain pulled back. Felix felt worries he didn't even know he carried leave him, a genuine smile crossing his face.

"Hello, Sylvain," he murmured.

His husband grinned. "Goddess, you have a lot of explaining to do, mister."

"Not in the hallway," Felix said, rolling his eyes.

In response to that, Sylvain grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into an empty room. Felix could have easily broken the hold, but he didn't mind.

They closed the door and then immediately embraced in a manner that was somehow more tender than the passionate kiss they'd shared a minute ago.

"Goddess, I need to stop," Sylvain muttered, pulling back. "There's so much to update you on. Gotta do that first. Your father—"

"Is dead, I know," Felix said.

Sylvain stopped. "You already know? How?"

He'd had no illusions that he could keep that secret. Not from his husband. "I killed him, Sylv."

Sylvain's eyes bulged. "Felix, what are you saying?"

Felix took a seat in a stray chair in the room. "That after my father said he would only support Dimitri as leader of the loyalists, I hunted him down and killed him. Dimitri is insane, and my father was a fool. There is only leader of Faerghus, and that is you."

His husband was speechless.

"Hate me if you must, I don't regret it," Felix said. His hands shook. "I did what I did for the country."

"Felix…?" Sylvain started, crouching by him. He stroked his cheek. "I know you had no love for him, but to kill him?" His voice was hoarse and his eyes weren't sure if they were looking at his husband.

He looked away. "Nothing will take you away from me."

"There's…more you're not saying, isn't there?" Sylvian whispered.

Felix said nothing.

"He wanted to have me assassinated, didn't he?" guessed Sylvain with that annoyingly brilliant mind of his. "Killed since I wasn't backing down. He'd frame it on the imperials—on the Shrike, like what happened to my father. And you…"

"No one will take you from me," Felix vowed, still looking away.

Sylvain held him. "I'm so sorry."

"He wasn't a good father," Felix spat. Then, softer, "But he was my father."

"I know," Sylvain said. "You've saved my life."

"Do not mistake me," Felix rasped, unexpected emotion clouding his voice. "I would do it again."

Sylvain held him tighter.

"There's more," Felix said. He closed his eyes. "About Dimitri. I…think I've pushed him too far."

"How do you mean?"

"It's…Dedue…"

"I have a plan," Nader prefaced, taking the seat across from Claude as he at breakfast.

The remnants of the party were still lingering. Shamir and Ferdinand were nursing hangovers from an impromptu drinking contest. Both of their partners had tried to intervene, but it had been no use.

Claude spooned some egg into his mouth and nodded for his friend to continue.

"Send me after Arundel," Nader said. "That Yuri says their intel suggests lots of aerial troops. My riders can cut through them like butter."

It wasn't just boasting—the Almyran armies were famous for destroying Fódlan pegasi. In fact, it was why the stalemate at the Locket existed. Leicester had the best archers on the continent while Almyran the best riders. Leicester's air forces were prevented from invading while the Almyrans were as well. After centuries of dealing with Almyran incursions, Leicester tactics knew how to deal with attacking wyvern riders.

Imperial tactics didn't have the same experience.

"Seems reasonable," Claude said, knowing his mentor far too well to think that was it.

"Doubles as something you'll like," Nader chuckled. "Heard from that Mockingbird that Arundel's put the hell in the frozen northern hell that's Faerghus. Consider how that might endear the northerners to Almyra if we dealt with the person who has destroyed their country."

Claude's eyes widened. "They'd be far more receptive to the plan."

"You've got their leader in your pocket already," Nader went on, grinning wider. "Throw this in, they won't bat an eye at your heritage or your dream."

"Nader, you're a genius."

"I survived this long for a reason, kiddo."

"You think you can defeat Arundel?" Claude asked. "Unfamiliar with Almyra he might be, but he's still an incredible adversary."

"Ha!" Nader laughed, drawing a despising look from a very hungover Shamir. "You're underestimating me, kiddo. Some stuck up imperial isn't going to be my death. I'll keep him busy if nothing else, giving you a window to Merceus."

"That could work," Claude said, thinking aloud. "If we hit Merceus before they're ready, that would give us the best chance to take the fort. That'll be the hardest fight in this entire campaign."

"I agree." Nader nodded, approving of his protégé. "You hit them hard while I hold him back. Though I'll need to borrow an archer from you. A real crack shot, whoever you've got."

"Take Ignatz," Claude said. "I'll brief him, assuming this is for what I think it is?"

Nader grinned wolfishly.

"Then Ignatz is the right choice," chuckled Claude. "He's the most familiar with shooting from wyvernback."

"You can count on me, Khalid," Nader said. "It's a good dream you've got. I'll give it my all." He paused before saying, "Your father's gotta be proud of you. I know I am, seeing how far you've come."

"It's only thanks to you," Claude said. Simultaneously, they each thought of the assassination attempt Nader had saved Claude from a decade ago; the start of their friendship.

Nader clapped him on the back, then stood to go prepare.

"We've gotten an assignment."

Balthus glanced over his shoulder, lowering his Relic gauntlets as he saw Leonie approach. "About time. Sitting around like this isn't for me."

Leonie sighed. "You might not thank me. I signed us up for this. We're going to Hevring."

"Hevring? The hell are we going there for?" Balthus asked.

Leonie gestured for him to walk with her. Together, they left the crowded training yard and made their way to the courtyard of Castle Bergliez. It'd been spared the struggle of the battle, the assorted flowers all blooming with the energy of spring as summer came in force.

"We need to control Port Hevring," Leonie said, quieter. "And Port Ochs. Both of those are ways for the Death Knight to reinforce Enbarr. Claude doesn't want that to happen."

"And we're leading an army there?" Balthus asked, surprised. "I didn't think we had the people for that."

"We don't. It's just you and I."

His jaw dropped. "How are we supposed to take Hevring with two people?"

"Diplomacy." Leonie chuckled at his expression. "I told you about Lysithea, remember? How telling her the truth about Linhardt swayed her? Linhardt is Remus von Hevring's son. It's possible he doesn't know."

"Ah, that makes more sense." Balthus laughed. "Here I though you signed me up for a suicide mission."

"I originally suggested I go alone," Leonie admitted. "Claude forced me to take someone to protect me. I figured you'd be okay with it."

"Of course," Balthus said. "You're good company. Did you volunteer for this?"

"Yes," Leonie said. "Claude had been asking me for my opinion on the plan. He hadn't intended to pick me. I convinced him, though."

"Are you…trying to get away from things here?" Balthus asked carefully.

She didn't need clarification on what he meant. "Yes. Is that such a bad thing?" Her lips tightened, not letting her expression change.

"No," Balthus said, shrugging. "If you think it's right for you, I'm with you. Just wanted to make sure you didn't want to leave behind your family here."

Leonie smiled at his care. "I don't, but someone needs to do this. I might have the best chance, since we can't spare someone like Claude."

"I'm sure you've got a better chance than Claude," Balthus insisted. "You're perfect for this. I'm happy to come and play bodyguard."

"Good, we leave tomorrow morning," Leonie said. She lingered before saying, "Thanks, Balthus. For last night."

He nodded. "My pleasure."

"Sure you don't wanna say bye to your man one more time, Ferdie?"

Ferdinand sighed. "Ferdie, really? I've heard the nicknames you come up with, yet you pick that one?"

Hapi grinned. "Oh, c'mon, it's cute. You love it."

"I don't think I do."

"Shut up, yes you do."

"Goddess," Constance mumbled, closing her eyes.

Mercedes looked up to her on the horse and laughed. "You're in for quite the trip."

"If I don't return, blame these two," Constance said, dryly.

"I have a feeling you'll be glad for them," Mercedes said, smiling. "They'll add some color for you."

"Perhaps." Constance sighed, looking at the rising sun peeking over the horizon. "We better depart, if we want to make good time."

"Take care, okay?" Mercedes said. "I won't accept anything happening to you while you're gone."

Constance chuckled. "My, you've grown a bit more assertive, Mercedes. I promise nothing shall come to happen."

"Then I will be seeing you in Enbarr," Mercedes said, smiling.

"In Enbarr."

"It's a battle like any we've faced. I'll be fine."

Catherine crossed her arms. "But I won't be there to keep an eye on you."

"We rarely are near each other in battles," Ignatz protested.

Shamir chuckled. "She's worried about you, Ignatz."

Catherine rounded on her while the Almyrans around them were beginning to take off. Scores of wyverns littered the sky, far too many to count. "And you're not?"

She shrugged. "I am, but he can take care of himself. He'll probably be safer than we will be."

"Bah!" Catherine spat. "I should be going with you."

Ignatz shook his head. "You know just as well as I do that they'll need you at Merceus. Relax, Catherine, I'll be okay."

The woman huffed and Shamir nodded. "You will," she said, "but still be careful."

He smiled. "I will. I promise you that."

Claude returned his mother's hug. "Must you go, already?"

Tiana chuckled. "Khalid, you're not a parent yet. You don't know how maddening it is to leave your child behind."

"Yet you did it anyway," he said.

"Yeah, because you were being a fucking idiot," she said. Giving him a look, she continued, "Write, Khalid. Stay in contact with us, or I'll be darkening your doorstep again."

"I will," he promised. "And I'll be back to visit after this. To see Judith."

"And your parents, I hope," Tiana snarked. "Javad's missing you too."

She glanced over her shoulder at the squad of riders who would accompany her back. They were a deterrent more than anything else. Tiana was a squad of her own right.

"That woman," she said, softly. "Byleth. You keep her close, you hear?"

Claude frowned. "Are you still going on about this? Stay out of my love life, mother."

"It's not that. She's a good bodyguard. Keep her close, to protect you."

"I'll be safe, mother."

"You better be. If someone hurts you, I will burn this country to the ground. Fódlan is crumbling beneath Edelgard, but they haven't seen hell I would bring."

"I'll keep her close," he promised, rolling his eyes.

"Good boy," she praised. Taking a long look at him, Tiana smiled. "I'm proud of you, Khalid. You've done well for yourself. I talked to most of your friends here—they really value you."

Claude blushed. "I suppose they do."

"Keep them close," she said. "Do me proud, son."

"I will."

"Leaving already!" Raphael laughed. "Feels like you just got here!"

Maya pulled out of the hug, grinning sheepishly. "Trade routes won't manage themselves, you know. A quick visit was all I could manage."

"This war'll be over before you know it," Raphael said. "When it is, I'll come visit. You can show me around Almyra and help me understand what it is you exactly do."

"Deal. If you want a job there, I probably will have lots to offer," she teased.

"Ha! Maybe!" he said. "We'll see what Claude needs after all this. But save me a spot, just in case."

"Maya!" Tiana barked, stepping into their vision. "Ready?"

"Yeppers!" she chirped.

Tiana closed the distance, smiling fondly at the taller woman. Then she turned to Raphael. "Didn't have a chance to speak to you. You're Maya's brother, right?"

"That I am," he said, bowing his head to royalty.

She nodded. "She's a good kid. Heard a lot about you from her. You'll always be welcome in my home, Raphael. Your sister has done right by me, many times over."

Maya blushed, but she looked pleased at the compliment. Tiana noticed, a sly smirk playing across her lips. "I'll keep an eye on her, for you. No need to worry about her safety when she's in my care."

"Thank you, that's a weight off my shoulders," Raphael said.

"Hey! I can protect myself," insisted Maya.

Tiana and Raphael glanced at each other, an unspoken agreement passing between them before they shook hands. "Safe travels," he said.

"Safer to you," she said. "You've got a harder road ahead."

Raphael hugged his sister one last time before bidding her farewell.

"Keep an eye on Yuri for me, will you?" she whispered.

"Can do," he promised.

Byleth knelt by the campfire, watching the flames, as the rest of the army scurried about, readying for departure. Even now, she shivered while sitting this close. The heat was uncomfortable, but she'd far improved from where she'd once been.

Leonie had told her Lysithea had changed sides. Memories of her were…uncomfortable. If she never had to see her again, Byleth wouldn't be disappointed.

She held a hand out, into the blaze. The heat was there, still suffocating. But her hand did not burn. An odd twist of fate, for sure. Immune to what scared her the most.

Not the most anymore, she reasoned to herself. Now the immaterial scared her most. Losing her friends, her family. Losing Claude. Dying and leaving them behind. Failing the world they were trying to birth. Being alone.

In comparison, fire was easy.

With Sothis no longer housing the memories of the fire from her childhood, it felt less real. Like it was just a figment of the past instead of a constant reminder. Something she could maybe forget.

Sothis…

Byleth wondered about her, albeit rarely. Her mind felt better being her own. The girl on the throne was no more. Maybe that was for the best.

Though, Byleth admitted, perhaps she could have made sense of this.

She removed her hand from the fire, looking at the inside of her wrist. Along her arm, silver scales spread along her skin. They vanished seconds after appearing, as if having served their purpose.

Byleth bit her lip. She clenched her fist, willing the scales to come back. They surfaced on her skin, brilliant argentum showing her reflection. It was like her very skin was hardening into metal.

"Byleth! You ready?" Claude called.

The scales vanished as she lost concentration. "Coming!"

Felix knelt by her corpse, expression tight. She lay in front of the throne, looking as far from peaceful as possible. Blackened veins spun across her face, but it was unmistakably Annette.

"What happened to her?" Felix asked.

"We're not sure on specifics," Ashe said. "Some sort of magic. Cornelia's doing, no doubt."

"And Cornelia?"

"Gone. Probably to Rowe."

Felix nodded, brushing some of Annette's hair from her eyes. She looked so young, or maybe he just felt old.

"You didn't deserve to be outlived by us," he murmured to himself, remembering the spritely girl who kept him company at the Millennium Ball. That girl didn't deserve such a fate.

Louder, he asked, "Do you know where her family is?"

"No," Sylvain answered. "I knew she had a father who had left, but I've no idea where to even start searching for him. Nor for her mother, though I have people on it. I…realize I never knew much about her."

"She played things close to the chest," Felix said. "Never really noticed it until now."

"I don't mean to interrupt, but we need to talk about Dimitri," Sylvain said. "Ashe and Ingrid need to know."

Felix brushed the back of his fingers against her cold cheek. "You know it all, I'll leave it to you."

"You're staying here?" Sylvain raised an eyebrow.

"Someone has to stand vigil," he muttered, not looking back. A vigil was for heroes, saying more about Felix's thoughts about Annette than anything else.

Sylvain, unwilling to stray from his husband's side, nevertheless nodded. "Alright. We'll be in the war room, when you're ready."

"If you need me, come get me," Felix said quietly, bowing his head over her body and putting the world from his mind. His husband and friend departed, voices hushed.

It was just like Glenn, he remembered. Someone he'd cared for, dying when he'd been elsewhere. Though Annette had died at Garreg Mach. This was a second death. But then again, he'd never had a chance to properly mourn her there.

If she had no one to watch over her as her spirit passed into the afterlife, then he'd have to do. There were probably people she'd have preferred, like Mercedes, but such was life. Felix would have to be good enough.

"Hope wherever you go next," he said, "is better than here. Keep Glenn company, okay?"

He hoped she heard him.

Caspar stepped into the Agarthan barracks, his warhammer in one hand, torch in another.

The walls were red with blood, writing playing out on the stone. Whatever it said, Caspar couldn't read it. The language was utterly foreign to him.

But he knew blood, the look and smell of it. And he knew how many people would have had to supply that much. His stomach churned.

The first corpse came after ten paces. The second five after that.

"Goddess," he gagged, looking away from mutilated bodies. It was like the reports of Remire. The Agarthans did some sort of magic with people's bodies.

And this was who they were allied with?

"Get Bernadetta," he told himself, looking away from the corpses that had begun to grow in quantity and frequency. "Get her, get out." And kill Myson, if the opportunity presented itself. But she was the priority before treason.

Doors lined the walls, leading to rooms where soldiers would normally sleep. When he peeked in, he saw various torture implements, none of which held Bernadetta.

I let this happen, he thought. I interceded when people were screaming, but I didn't even think to investigate inside to ascertain the why.

No more. He wouldn't accept it, and neither would his father.

In the third door he looked in, he saw his first Agarthans. They noticed him and paid him no mind, going back to poking around bodies on operating tables.

Did they…expect him?

"Bernie," he muttered, worry increasing. He pulled back from the room and grit his teeth, continuing to check rooms.

More blood. More bodies. He stopped looking down, knowing that wherever he stepped would be a sight he didn't want or need to see. His entire body shook when he stopped feeling stone beneath his feet and instead felt only decaying flesh.

Caspar persisted. On the twelfth, he saw the closest thing to a normal barracks.

Eleven people lay in beds, each next to a weapon. They looked asleep, though Caspar didn't see them breathing. Were they…alive?

The weapons next to them were blackened, grey imitations of Relics. A quick count supplied all the Relics he knew, plus more. A final bed, furthest in the back, was empty. Next to it, the Sword of the Creator. Only it wasn't the same as Byleth's blade.

"What the…" he muttered.

A woman screamed further in the building. It was familiar.

"Bernadetta!" Caspar roared, turning and running to where it had come from. He sprinted down the hallway towards the end. He took a turn at the end, smashing his shoulder into the closed door at the end.

A well-lit, square room opened up to him. Inside, he saw several faces he knew.

Nailed to the wall and very much unconscious was the supposed Saint Indech. His skin was entirely covered in his own blood, but he breathed still, faint as it was. Alive.

Kneeling in the center of the room, Bernadetta, bound by magic. A knife protruded from her leg, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks as she stared up at him in horror.

And flipping a knife in his artificial hand, Myson. He didn't wear his normal cloak, opting for a slim fitting tunic that showed off his arms. One Agarthan pale, the other black as soot.

"Good," Myson said, approving. "I thought that would speed you up."

"Let her go," Caspar snarled, dropping the torch and grabbing his axe with both hands. He raised it, a silent threat.

Myson raised an eyebrow, normally impassive face arched in wry humor. "And you think you can stop me? Bergliez, I have zero intention of killing this woman. If you do as I say, she will go free."

"I'm not here to make some deal, Agarthan," he spat. "I'm here for my friend."

The Agarthan was unimpressed. He caught the knife by the handle for a moment before it began to levitate in his hand. "You're under the impression you have a choice, Caspar. I've asked you to come here for some time now, yet you continue to avoid me. I've taken matters into my own hands."

"Let. Her. Go."

"No," Myson said, flippant. "Or rather, I will, if you trade places with her."

"What?"

"I don't have a use for her," he said, the knife floating towards her neck. Tiny, miniscule gusts of wind held it aloft, each controlled with razor-sharp precision. "Killing her is of no consequence to me. You, however, are needed."

"Caspar—" Bernadetta tried to cry out, but a silencing spell hit her before she could continue. Irritation flitted across Myson's face before he turned back to him.

"I need someone to command my Deadlords," Myson said. "They are my creation, and my crowning achievement will be you."

Caspar said nothing.

"I will make you into a living Deadlord," Myson said, proudly. "Whether you wish it or not, this will come to pass."

"I refuse," Caspar said.

"So you're okay if I kill her?" Myson asked, bending down by Bernadetta. "I'd never make it quick, you know. I could make you watch. You've come into my domain, Bergliez. There's no daddy to protect you here."

"You'll die," Caspar promised. "You'll die before you can hurt her."

Myson shrugged. "Let's entertain this fantasy. Say you kill me. Your plan is, what, to escape from here? Past the dozens of my cohorts who are standing ready to assist? Past the Deadlords who need only be activated before they will hunt you, unrelenting? No, Caspar von Bergliez, you ran in here alone without support. Foolish, if predictable. Either yield willingly, or I will make you."

"What the hell are you going to do to me?" Caspar said, glancing around the room for something, anything. All the while, Bernadetta's eyes bulged and she tried to scream silently at him.

"I found an artifact called the Chalice of Beginnings," Myson said, "at Garreg Mach. For the longest time, I thought it would only allow me this necromancy. But I've discovered something…beyond that." He grinned, feral. "Living undead. An oxymoronic phrase, for sure, but it is apt for the process."

"You're insane," Caspar muttered.

"Insane?" Myson laughed. "I've lived for quite a long time, boy. I've seen more than you ever will. People call things they don't understand insane. Your insults beget ignorance."

"Why me?"

"Oh, I thought that was obvious. You are the second perfect artificially Crested person we have created. You have the resilience to withstand the process," Myson said, taking joy at explaining. "A lesser man might evaporate during the procedure."

He glanced at Bernadetta, who was struggling against the magical bonds that held her in place. Her eyes were wide and she shook her head imperceptibly.

"You try my patience," Myson said, leveling a hard stare at him.

Goddess damn him.

"Fine," Caspar said.

Bernadetta quietly shrieked and Myson strut forward. "Excellent," breathed the Agarthan, greedy. "You will understand after it finishes, trust me."

His muscles screamed after being held tense and at the ready for so long. But when he was three feet from him, Caspar swung his hammer out in attack.

Myson whipped his artificial hand around, expecting it, and caught the head of the hammer, sparks flying like he'd struck metal. With his other hand, Myson flung his palm against his forehead.

Caspar's mind sundered.

Author Notes: And we'll pick up with that scene next time.

Editing Notes:
2/16/2022: Minor grammatical adjustments.