A/N: Fasten your seatbelts.

Voices

"Get up," her spirit implored - a voice that had set her on her feet after many a fall; a voice Sumia now disregarded.

Lying at the base of some hill, a broken arrow buried in her side, a badly bruised if not bleeding head, and uncountable lesser injuries, how could she move much less stand? Scorching, searing pain raged through her body, burning away her strength; whatever remained seeped away with every drop of blood. And even if she could get to her feet, her Pegasus had carried her far, too far, from any friend.

"Get up," the voice urged again. "Get up. You have to get up."

Again, Sumia paid it no heed. She struck the ground, cursing her horse for fleeing, the Risen that shot her, and even the fortunes themselves. Most of all, she cursed her folly. She was the one who looked away. She was the one who screamed and frightened her steed. She was the one who couldn't keep a tighter grip on the reins or a boot in the stirrup. Hot tears pricked her eyes.

Like so many times before, she was the failure; she lived as a disappointment all her life, and now she would die as one.

"Don't give in, Sumia," another voice, Chrom's voice, called out, "Just hold on a little longer."

Sumia blinked back a tear. Deep within her soul, a tiny spark, a flicker of a flame, ignited. When that voice spurred her onward, how many times had she endured only for herself? She'd risen after numerous falls, achieved a place among the Shepherds, and even overturned the fortunes when they turned against her. And she'd done all of it for no one else but her. Now, when she had others who needed her, who cared for her, who loved her, she would simply give up hope?

How dare she even consider such a thing.

Carefully, she got to her hands and knees. If she had even the smallest measure of strength, she would endure for Lucina, for Lissa, for her beloved Chrom. Her side flared, and she bit her lip hard to stifle a scream. That minuscule effort alone stole her breath away, and the worst was yet to come. The taste of blood flooded her mouth as she rose. The world tilted one way then the other, and gods above, her head felt as if it would split open.

"Keep going, Sumia."

Though she wobbled on her feet, she was standing at last, but now came the hill, towering like a mountain over her.

While standing was agonizing enough, walking was nothing short of torturous. Each step sent a fresh burn through her side and a throbbing beat through her head. Try as she could to stop it, blood still spurted between her fingers. Bruised, aching limbs groaned in protest at the slightest use, and every breath filled her lungs with a scalding fume.

And still the top looked no closer. Sumia's knees buckled. She took in a deep gasp of air, though it only stoked the fire inside her chest, and she coughed. Her legs grew heavy. The world spun violently around her. Beads of sweat dripped down her brow, stinging her eyes. Despite the warmth of spring, a chill settled into her skin, growing colder by the moment. Worst of all, her vision began to flicker; hardly a favorable sign.

How much longer could she endure? How much pain could she withstand?

Chrom's voice came again, "Just a little further. Don't give in now."

Gritting her teeth, she dragged her feet along. Her eyes narrowed, focusing on the step ahead and the next to follow. She would hold her daughter again, and watch her grow into the woman who traveled with them. She would ruffle Lissa's hair, treating her as any sister would. Her eyes conjured the image of Chrom standing at the top of the hill. She would truly lay eyes on him and hear his voice again.

And at last, she reached the top. A grateful sigh passed her lips, and within her burning chest, her heart swelled.

But no sooner did she take another step than her strength dissipated. Her legs, unable to bear her any longer, gave out, and she could not even raise her hands to soften the fall. Pain exploded through her side, through every aching bruise, and she could not help but scream, fresh tears leaking from her eyes. And despite the flames overwhelming her senses, she shivered as bitter cold seeped into her bones. Her vision, once flickering, began to fade. She managed to spy a single flower blooming just ahead of her, but she needed no petals to tell her future, her fate now.

This godsforsaken Valmese field would serve as her grave.

A flapping sound circled overhead just then, beats too heavy for any bird. No, those wings belonged to a Pegasus or wyvern. Beneath her face, the earth began to vibrate; rapid footsteps and approaching hooves. A great terror seized her. What else could it be but an imperial patrol? Strong hands took hold of her and turned her over. Sumia could only pray that they would finish her now rather than keep her alive only for Walhart to order her death.

But to her shock and infinite relief, the face of her beloved Chrom stared down at her instead, warm, gentle hands finding her cheek.

"Sumia," he panted, "Oh gods, no." By now, the pain had begun to fade, and utter blackness was blotting out Chrom's face. Still, she managed a feeble smile; at least she'd seen him one last time, his presence proving a great comfort in her final moments. And with what meager measure of strength she held, she would hear one thing from him.

"Chrom," she whispered through trembling lips. "T-tell me you love me."

Then the world went dark.