Author's Note: Hey, I've been gone for a while. I'm not dead. Just really busy. Though, if you were to look up the word 'lazy' in the dictionary, chances are you would find my picture there. A lot has happened but that won't stop me from updating my story! (albeit at a snail's pace)

Anyway, I won't keep you any further. Here's what you came for!

"Inigo?"

He didn't move, his head hung low, hair sprawled messily all over his face. Not even a shiver or a whisper. As if he had been turned into a statue. While in reality only a few seconds had passed, for Marth, those seconds went by agonizingly slowly since the name had left her lips.

Then, the grand eternity of a minute.

A fearful silence hung over them, the world drawn to but a whisper, as if even the wind itself was afraid of uttering a word. Marth could take no more of it. She opened her mouth but her resolve broke quickly when a single doubt echoed in her mind.

What could she possibly say?

Mere moments before, those lost memories returned to her. For Inigo, those memories were a part of him for his entire life. The misery she felt in regards to what she thought she had lost was nowhere near Inigo's own. How could she provide comfort in any capacity? All she could do was wrap her arms around his shoulders, which she had already been doing since Inigo had fallen to his knees. Marth could feel the sense of worthlessness claw its way up within her.

Without a shadow of a doubt, she knew who Inigo was to her. But even with that knowledge, she couldn't do anything to help him, save for saying his name aloud.

She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek as tears started to well at the corner of her masked eyes, trying her damnedest to keep her emotions in check despite the mess they were already in. In back of her mind, she was thankful yet again that Lord Ephraim wasn't there to see her, and thankful for the mask that hid away her tears.

"Even the way you cry… it's all the same."

Marth exhaled sharply, her breath caught in her throat. Inigo had finally spoken to her, but it was not the words she wanted to hear. It was selfish of her to think in such a way but she could without another forlorn recollection rending her heart to tatters.

Inigo reached up and gently pulled Marth's mask from her face and set it aside, her azure eyes shimmering with the moonlight from the welling of tears, the Brand visible for all to see in her left eye. It was a mirror image of Inigo's own. She instinctively closed her eyes and turned her face away, part out of fear and part of out of shame. She had not right to face Inigo as who she was.

However, Inigo's hand did not part from her face, instead brushing away a lone tear that began to slowly fall down Marth's weathered cheek with his thumb. In her memory, Inigo's hand was softer than silk, unmarred by hardship. But now his hand felt coarse and calloused, scarred and tempered, a telltale sign of the ceaseless fighting the young man endured. Endured in her absence.

Yet, despite the roughness of his hands, a familiar warmth and gentleness bled into Marth's skin, the exact same warm she felt and remembered from her memory. Despite the trials he had faced, Inigo's spirit hadn't changed. Despite having been abandoned by her, her brother's hands welcomed her. Marth could no longer hold her tears back as a soft sob escaped her lips.

Inigo pulled her in close, putting his left hand on the back of her head, softly stroking her head, his fingers gliding through her messily cut hair, as she gripped Inigo's shirt tightly, pushing herself against him, fearful of letting go.

"I'm sorry," Inigo whispered, so low that Marth would not have heard had she not been right next to him.

For what? Was what Marth wanted to ask but her voice was lodged in her throat, like a hand that gripped her from within.

"Despite seeing what had happened to her, despite what you had told me," he continued, holding her tighter, "I still placed the burden of my sister upon you."

Marth shook her head, pushing herself away from him, as much as it pained her to separate from his warmth. "How is that your fault Inigo? I… I may not be the sister you remember but you are my brother all the same. And to have done this to you, I—"

Inigo grabbed her by the shoulders, his hands nearly eclipsing her small frame.

"Stop it. What she did was… I'm not even sure what I even feel about it anymore… but that has nothing to do with you. You said it yourself, you were summoned recently." He paused, closing his eyes tightly for a moment. "While you bear her face, her name, her everything… you aren't her. And that was what I should have accepted instead of…"

A tear slid down Inigo's face. Marth almost extended her hand to wipe it away. Almost.

Inigo quickly brushed the tear aside and took a deep breath, as if he were trying exhale away the forlornness within.

"We should get going," he said quietly. "We'll… have time later to sort this out. Hearth is in danger."

Marth felt as if her eyes and ears were lying to her. One moment ago, Inigo appeared as if he were on the verge of breaking apart before her eyes, crushed by the broken ties that weighed him down. Yet now, he had pushed away those emotions to back of his mind, a cool sharpness in his eyes. There was an almost regal air about him but also an incredibly cold one.

It reminded her of Lord Ephraim.

It was one she could not argue against, no matter how much her heart was screaming at her otherwise.

"Can you walk?"

Marth was released from her thoughts whens she found that the question was directed towards her. She nodded, the pain in her legs having dulled away now.

"I'm not sure how much you were able to catch on," Inigo explained, "but there's something going down in Hearth, and it isn't good."

Marth realized what Inigo had meant the moment she took her eyes off of him. Hearth had grown quiet, eerily so, with not a single soul in sight. For a town hosting a festival, something had definitely gone awry. How she had not noticed this before, she could only wonder. These last several hours with Inigo had been a blur and it hadn't helped that her emotions were a mess throughout it all. It prevented her from having a clear head. Had she been a little more together, she may have noticed earlier.

"No point in fretting what has already happened," Inigo said, reading the expression on Marth's face, his eyes darting around the empty street the two stood in. "We have to regroup with the others."

Others.

She had left Genny behind.

Marth quickly turned and nearly ran back the way she came had it not been for Inigo grabbing her arm at the last second. He shook his head before she could protest.

"We can't go back into the town square. If the fringes of the town are like this then heading back into the middle of Hearth will be suicide."

"All the more reason why I can't leave Genny behind in that mess," Marth protested, trying to free herself from Inigo's grip. She had to get back to her but his hand wouldn't budge.

"If you get caught, who's going to rescue her then?" Inigo snapped, bringing his face close to Marth's. It was the first time he raised his voice since she had met him but there was familiar ring to it. While Marth could feel her resistance begin to crumble, more questions plagued her.

"Caught by who?"

Inigo turned his gaze towards the street, as if he were trying make sure no one was around. Loosening his grip around Marth, but still holding onto her, he began to take her down the empty street, a certain uneasiness in his step. Marth could feel a similar uneasiness building up inside of her.

"We can talk while we're on the move." Inigo said, quickening his pace. Marth had to speed up her gait to keep up.

"Like I said, caught by who?" She repeated her question, this time with more force. Inigo's demeanor set her on edge.

But her anxiousness was soon replaced by something else entirely when the next step she took made a wet noise. The two had been walking along the cobblestone road before, the heel of their boots clacking hard against the stones that dotted the street. The monotone sound of it was now replaced by a sickly, wet sound against their feet.

Both Inigo and Marth looked down at their boots. Even in the dark of the night, with the dim moon above as their only light, Marth knew what she was stepping in and it nearly made her heart stop.

Blood. Thick, viscous blood had pooled beneath her and Inigo's feet, and there was an absurd amount of it. And while this gruesome sight was before her eyes, another thing began assaulting her: the smell.

The air around them was thick and reeked of a familiar yet distinct scent that had no place in Hearth.

It smelled of death.

Marth had to take shallow breaths to keep the bile in the back of her throat down as the thick scent of iron bombarded her nose. The air was heavy with the smell of smoldering flesh and wood, as if a fire had ripped through the area burning everything in its bath. However, there was no smoke in the air nor was there any debris that would have remained in the aftermath of one.

Inigo tapped on Marth's shaky shoulder and pointed towards the direction where the blood was pouring from. Following the black river of blood with her eyes, Marth saw that they were flowing from a shoddily constructed yet massive tent, its front entrance had collapsed, a pile of wooden planks and pillars littering the front, all snagging on the rough tarp. And in between the gaps of the debirs, the dark red stream of blood to flowed out. As the two walked closer to investigate, the smell only worsened.

"What in the hell…" was all that Marth managed to say.

Inigo said nothing as he examined the collapsed entrance, his eyes glued to the debris that lay scattered about, his eyes missing nothing. A dim light shone from within the collapsed tent.

As gruesome as the sight was, a part of Marth remained thankful. Thankful that Genny was far from this place.

But that peace was short-lived.

When Marth was making her way over towards Inigo amidst the wreckage by the entrance, she felt her foot snag on something, nearly causing her topple over. Inigo quickly rushed from where he was to catch her. And as he was supporting her, Marth heard a distinct metallic snapping sound underfoot.

"You alright?" Inigo asked. "Your legs…"

Marth nodded guiltily, thanking Inigo for catching her. While the pain from running before had subsided, the muscles in her legs still ached from overexertion, not being able to fully support Marth and her habitually quick movements.

As worried as he was about her, Inigo was now paying his attention elsewhere. He must have heard the strange noise Marth had as his were aimed at his feet. The sound must have come from something he stepped on. Letting Marth stand on her own, Inigo knelt briefly to pick up whatever he had stepped into, bringing it up into the dim light from the tent.

Marth first thought it was a sword, it being long and slender, but its thin shaft encased in with ivory-white steel immediately told her it was anything but. While much of its features had been destroyed, it now being snapped in two, what it was unmistakable.

Inigo's own eyes widened. "Th-this—"

It was a cleric's staff.

It was Genny's.

Chapter END