The army of the dead arrived at the gates of Enbarr the morning after Byleth. The rising sun glinted off their black armor. They stretched as far as she could see from the top of the walls. Thousands on thousands of them, three or four times the number from the reports of her scouts. Byleth ran a finger along the edge of the Sword of the Creator and looked around her. The knights of Rowe, Gloucester, and Edmund as well as Claude's personal guard sat in their saddles or perched in snipers' nests, but the exhaustion was plain on their faces. She had been so eager to fulfill her purpose—so desperate to put an end to her existence—that she had rushed toward a battle she had no hope of winning conventionally. And this time, the enemy bore a Relic the equal of hers.

She took a deep breath. Fear had no place in a flesh vessel. She looked at Claude, then at the rest of the Golden Deer and surviving Knights of Seiros. These had always been her most useful weapons, clever and adaptable, even when she wasn't, and wielding powers of their own. She motioned for them to follow her. They did, tired and nervous-looking, as if she was a stranger to them. She led them into the vacant commander's office. They crowded together. "We don't have enough soldiers to beat them in battle, but we have no choice except to win. Suggestions?"

"Well, you can start by giving a better motivational speech than that." Claude reached for her. "You're not okay. Whatever Rhea said, you aren't some kind of flesh golem. Let us help you, Teach."

Byleth turned away. Pain twisted in her chest. It felt like a cruel joke that he cared for her when Rhea had used her and Edelgard had lied. She was an alien, and here they were still trying to bridge the unbridgeable gap. "Then scheme, Master Tactician. Jokes and platitudes about the power of friendship won't defeat Nemesis."

"There's enough of them out there to destroy all of Fódlan" Hilda asked. "You don't think—"

"Yes." Byleth looked again at her sword and the blank space where a Crest Stone would have been. "He was resurrected to destroy the works of Sothis and Seiros. His purpose won't be complete until he destroys everything they built."

"Then we don't give him that chance," Shamir said. "If it's really a matter of the whole continent, then the smart thing to do is to let him take the city and burn it down. I don't know what he is, but I doubt he's immune to fire."

There was a long silence. Byleth could imagine the horrified faces of the rest of them. For all the blood that had been shed during this war, they had been allowed to maintain the illusion that they could keep their own hands clean. She waited for Claude to voice an objection, to come up with a scheme as she had ordered, but he said nothing. None of them had any better plans. Edelgard would laugh to see it. You were right and I was wrong and now I have no choice but ruthlessness.

She bowed her head. The order stuck in her throat. Why? She was the Ashen Demon, given that name because she burned down a village. There were a half-million people living in Enbarr, but that paled in comparison to the population of Fódlan as a whole. Simple logic demanded that they die. Byleth had nothing but logic left. The nobility she tried for was a lie. But still the words would not come.

Because you aren't a demon or a vessel or anything else. The voice in her head sounded like Sothis. You're a person.

Byleth head snapped up. She wasn't a person. Sothis was gone. She must be going mad.

Well, that would be an improvement. Only people go mad. Quit your moping. Edelgard would be ashamed of you if she saw you like this. And I was never gone.

"Where have you been?" she whispered. Her eyes burned. All those times she had asked for guidance, Sothis had been right there.

I wished to protect you. You have felt it, have you not? Our thoughts and memories merging? I fear the more you draw on my power, the more strain you put on your mortal body. Saving the little one nearly cracked the Stone in two. I feared another such display might break it entirely.

So she was the walking dead, just of a different kind. Her natural heart was that of a dead child. One more display of magic, and it would be all she had left.

I cannot say with certainty what would happen, but yes, that is a reasonable guess. I'm so sorry, my dearest friend. I wanted to save you, but I failed. Time is limited, even for progenitor gods. So I ask you the same question I did once before: what shall you do?

What did she want to do? Save Fódlan. Atone for the temper tantrum that had led them to this disaster. And even if the only way to stop Nemesis was to destroy Enbarr, she didn't want to die as the Demon. She turned back to Claude and the others. "My students, no my friends. I'm so sorry for leading you into this mess. Which makes what I have to ask even worse." She took a deep breath. "I don't see a way out of burning the city. What we can do is buy the civilians time to evacuate while we battle in the streets. We can't win and we won't survive, but every hour they're killing us is an hour that a thousand people can escape. Anyone who wants to evacuate with them is welcome to do so, but I ask for volunteers."

They all looked at each other. Their hands trembled. They were after all, little more than children forced to grow up too fast by the horrors of war. Claude swallowed. "I've always been one to get the win with as little death as possible. A hundred or a thousand people saved for each one of us? I call that a bargain. Count me in."

"Me too."

"Me too."

Shamir grimaced. It took Byleth a moment to realize that it was supposed to be a smile. "And me. Catherine, wherever she is now, would never let me hear the end of it if I ran."

Byleth closed her eyes. They had chosen to die with her, despite her foolishness. Her only comfort was that that same foolishness had spared Edelgard this fate. She hoped that some day Edelgard would forgive her. "Thank you."

Orders were sent out to requisition every available horse, cart, and ship to help with the evacuation. Boats choked the canal. Crying families streamed into the streets with all the goods they could carry. Some shouted about the end of the world and divine judgment. Byleth watched it all silently. What she wouldn't give to have Fort Merceus rebuilt. A battering ram like the one she had used at Fhirdiad thundered in the distance. It wouldn't be long now.

Byleth turned to the assembled troops. There were far too few of them. They wore the grim, planked looks of people who knew exactly what was about to happen to them. "All forces to the North and Royal districts. The gates are a natural chokepoint. Your objective is to hold them there as long as possible. Nemesis himself leads our foes, and he has the same objective he didn't thousand years ago: the destruction of everything and everyone we hold dear. We must stop him here for their sake. You may think of me as a goddess, but today I am one of you fighting for the life of people that I love. When Nemesis is ashes, we will all be immortals." She raised the Sword of the Creator high. "For Fódlan."

The soldiers didn't cheer, but Claude's smile did reach his eyes. "Now that's what I call a speech."

They readied their weapons. Ashe took up a position at one of the onager. Those who remained on the walls hurled down missiles and arrows. All while the battering ram thundered. Wood splintered, and then the vanguard of the dead broke through.

And they were dead men. Their skin was pale and lifeless beyond even the likes of Solon and Thales. Unhealed wounds slashed across their exposed skin. They didn't shout as they massed through the gate nor did they cry out in pain as Byleth cut them down. Their eyes were dull. She would have called them unseeing if their parries hadn't been so quick.

The knight loomed above the infantry. Wisps of red hair clung to his skull. The sigil of Gautier was burned into his armor and he carried a copy of the Lance of Ruin. He slashed through the armor of one of the surviving Bergliez axemen as if it were butter. Byleth tightened her grip on her sword. She had been warned that some of the dead carried copies of Relics but this was Gautier risen from the dead, the red glow in his sockets visible even at this distance.

Claude's eyes widened. "I can't possibly be seeing what I think I'm seeing. Can I?"

Byleth cleaved one of the dead swordmasters' head from its shoulders. "I think we are."

A voice boomed. "How do you like my army? I won't stop until I've picked this garbage heap of a city to the bone and pissed on Wilhelm's corpse. Cowardly little traitor!"

In the midst of the sea of black, there was suddenly another rider. He was large and muscular despite his white beard. His eyes glowed as well and he held the Sword of the Creator, polished like black onyx. "If you give me a good fight, I'll kill you quickly. Run like the rest of them and I'll make it last for a while." Nemesis laughed. "Of course, you've got to get through my minions first. Fraldarius, Charon, attack!"

Byleth didn't know how long the assault continued, only that for every corpse she hacked to pieces to more, took their place. She had grown accustomed to decimating entire armies with only the Sword of the Creator, but she had never imagined such a power turned on her. Nemesis was relentless, cutting down her men as easily as she swatted flies. But for all his power, she and her friends still had Relics of their own.

Claude rose into the air atop his wyvern and drew back Failnaught as he aimed for Nemesis' heart. The arrow struck true, but a bubble of magical energy shimmered. The arrow slowed, grazing Nemesis' chest and leaving a thin trail of black ooze in its wake.

"Idiots! I've got serious magic protecting me. It'll take more than one measly arrow to take me down."

Charon stumbled and an identical black streak appeared on its chest. Claude circled around. "Fall back to the onager. I've got an idea."

Byleth did as he asked. She had seen the streets of Enbarr filled with the dead and dying and churches and theaters that had stood for a thousand years smoking or ruined, but this was so much worse than the battle against Edelgard. She had had a firm destination and there been hope that most of the beauty and culture would survive, that she had a future. Now there was only a slog with fire and death at the end of it.

She reached the onager. Ashe was covered in sweat and dirt, but otherwise unharmed. He motioned for soldiers to bring more stones. "We've felled a lot of them so far. I hope it's doing some good. These things are worse than ghosts."

"Don't lose heart yet." Claude dodged a blast of fire from Gloucester. "Did you notice that when we tried to hurt Nemesis, it hit the Elites? I'm betting they're linked somehow. Maybe he's using them as a shield? Failnaught hurt Charon a lot more than it hurt him. If we were to destroy the Elites, that shield might go down."

And killing them would destroy the most potent weapons his army had. "Wouldn't it be nice if killing him was all we had to do."

He shrugged. "A little too storybook for my taste, but I could use a miracle right about now. Eh, at least it'll buy the civilians more time."

A skeletal wyvern hovered above. Ashe squinted and dropped his hand. A volley of stones flew toward beast and rider. The rider pulled on the reins and made a turn no living beast could ever manage. The largest of the stones grazed it. It wobbled in the sky before righting itself and made straight for Ashe. Byleth whipped out the Sword of the Creator and threw out the blade in an arc, but the thing was too fast. The rider raised dark copy of Crusher and—

A cry like that of a screaming eagle loud enough to shake the intact buildings and rattle Byleth's teeth sounded in the air as a black and white blur slammed into the Elite. He and his mount went sailing to the ground. The blur seized on it, ripping through armor as if it were nothing with its great claws. It was then that Byleth realized that it wasn't a blur. It wasn't an "it" at all. Skeletal wings erupted from her back, her clothes had merged into a black, indistinct mass, and there were growths like rotting flesh on her face, but Byleth would know that white hair anywhere. Tears formed at the corner of her eyes and she had no will or strength to stop them. "El."

Edelgard reared onto her legs and met Byleth's gaze. Her eyes glowed red like Nemesis' but a faint smile twisted across her misshapen lips. "It seems I got here just in time." She reached a claw towards Byleth's cheek. "I'm sorry that I lied to you. And sorry that you have to see me like this."

"I'm the one who should be sorry. I took all my anger out on you and you didn't deserve it. And now you're..." Byleth gestured feebly. Words failed her. "…that."

"I'm myself. Edelgard von Hresvelg, who will do whatever it takes to free humanity from darkness and save the people that I love."

Ashe approached her. "Well, whatever you are, thank you for saving my life." He stood on tiptoe to hug her around the midsection. "If I have to die here, then I'm glad it's with you."

Edelgard patted him gingerly on the shoulders. "Die? You're not fighting as if you're suicidal." Recognition dawned across her face. "Our objective is to hold the line."

"It was. Save as many people as we could before burning the city down," Claude said. "Of course that was before we got our own magic-hurling Hegemon." He turned to Byleth. "With Edelgard on our side, we might be able to destroy the rest of the Elites and Nemesis."

"And what?" Edelgard's voice was booming and distorted, but annoyance shone through. "They'll just conveniently turn into little piles of ash?"

"We'd already agreed to try before you came." Byleth put her hands in one of Edelgard's. The growths were rough and sharp and made Byleth's skin crawl to touch them, but they were warm and they were Edelgard's. "Now that you're here, I'd like to try to see tomorrow."

"Ever the optimist, my darling. Let's go to work."

"Do you hear that?" Byleth shouted. "We have hope now. Fight not just for your families but to see them again when this war is done."

"Yes, Your Majesty!" replied an archer. "Where did you find the Beast?"

"I am not a Beast. But I have power like Nemesis has never seen." Edelgard rose into the air. Fire spewed from her hands and mouth, reducing a line of dead to ash. It galvanized the living as nothing else could. Byleth's Deer and their soldiers dived back into the fray, no longer the condemned but heroes fighting an impossible battle out of legend as they had so many times before. Every black-armored skeleton that they cut down was no longer delaying the inevitable, but a step on the arduous road toward Nemesis and victory.

Byleth made a turn into the central square. Some mages were making a stand near the opera house, throwing magic this way and that until the sky was a riot of colors. A mounted archer bearing the sigil of Riegan sat opposite, firing back with the dark Failnaught. Byleth smiled despite herself. Claude had always hated cross-training with melee weapons, but even aRelic bow was no match for skilled swordsmen determined to close the distance. She dashed forward and leapt into the air, the Sword of the Creator glowing in her hands. She crashed down on Failnaught as Riegan futilely tried to aim. It was the first time she had been so close to one of the Elites. Riegan's eyes glowed red, but there was nothing behind the gaze. He was as mindless as the rest of his troops. He didn't even flinch as she decapitated him.

Two down. Eight to go. Except perhaps not. Byleth took in deep, gulping breaths and braced herself against the opera house's façade. The Elites were just mindless puppets. But mindless puppets merely hung limp on their strings without a puppetmaster. Nemesis, brutish as he was, had a will of his own. They had assumed that they would have to kill the Elites before being able to hurt Nemesis, but what if that was the other way around? What if destroying him would leave the whole horde impotent? They had managed to wound Nemesis, however slightly, even with his magical shield. There were two less dead to power it. If they could bring enough strength to bear...

"Mages, send up the rallying sign! All commanders to meet here."

One of the mages nodded and sent a golden light into the sky. The Crest of Flames hovered above the opera house. It was showy magic, unsuitable at any other time, but she had no banners to unfurl. She could only hope that her students would come, that enough of them were still alive amidst the chaos.

They arrived one by one, bleeding and sweat-stained. Lysithia with Thyrsus, Claude with Failnaught, Hilda with Freikugal, even Lorenz with the Axe of Ukonvasara. Others came with magical weapons retrieved from the corpses of marauding Beasts. And last of all was Edelgard, her wings unfurled as it to shield the others. Byleth exhaled. For all the death and destruction of this day she hadn't lost more people she loved. They might be able to pull off one last miracle and bring them all home again. "I have an idea..."

She told them what she had and hadn't seen when she destroyed Riegan. Claude stroked his chin. "It could work. I mean, it's risky, but we couldn't have gotten as far as we have without risk." He smiled. "Also, we're down to five Elites. I was able to finish off Charon and Goneril, and Daphnel had an encounter with our favorite Hegemon. You know, I am really glad didn't pull that the last time we were in Enbarr."

Edelgard gritted her teeth, revealing fangs and Byleth winced inwardly. Even if they somehow pull this off, she had no idea how to turn Edelgard back into a human or if it could be done. It seemed stupidly, pointlessly cruel when it was Byleth who had been a fool and Edelgard who had provided their ray of hope. "So all we have to do is get to Nemesis and hope that we have enough strength to bring him down."

"If I were an extremely angry resurrected bandit in the city built by my two greatest enemies, where would I want to destroy first?"

Byleth and Edelgard looked at each other. "The palace," Edelgard said. "Built by none other than Grand Emperor Wilhelm."

It was one thing to have a destination, another to get there. The Imperial District was in better shape than the North, but not by much. Calvary led by Gloucester and Gautier had broken through the line, and were busy setting mansions ablaze. On the crest of the highest hill in the city stood the Imperial Palace, outwardly unchanged from when Byleth had stormed it almost eight months ago. A knot of black curled at the gates, Nemesis' standard fluttering in the breeze.

Pain crossed Edelgard's face. "Everything I have left of my father and my siblings is there. Bastards."

Byleth put a hand on her. "We'll stop them. It's not an easy place to take, remember?" She turned back to the others. "Take it slow. No unnecessary risks. I'm going to need all of you to defeat Nemesis."

She took a deep breath, and they began the final push. Byleth heard everything, felt everything. Metal struck bone. Sweat trickled down her face. Magic hissed by her ear. Gloucester aimed a bolt of white light as Ignatz aimed for at a pegasus knight. Byleth tensed. The pain in her chest reminded her that she couldn't counter with magic of her own. She broke formation and took a running leap at Ignatz. He and she tumbled to the cobblestones as the magic sailed overhead.

"Tch. Captain Jeralt would've had your head for that. Why didn't you use magic? I guess he really did train me better." There was the hiss of an arrow and a satisfying thud as something heavy and armored fell to the ground. Byleth picked herself up and spared the briefest glance to confirm Gloucester's end. Only four Elites left.

"Thanks." Ignatz adjusted his glasses. "I feel like I should return the favor." Wind swirled around him. The gust moved faster than any arrow before slamming into Gautier's chest and knocking him from his mount to be crushed by the horde. Three.

They pushed, onward and upward towards the palace. The walls were broken in places from magic or projectiles. The fountains, so lovely that she had noticed them in the midst of battle, were cracked and dry, and the gardens were showing clear signs of neglect even during this uneventful winter. This wasn't just the damage of today's battle. Byleth had won Enbarr and claimed the crown of Adrestia and then forgot about it in the wake of more pressing issues. Edelgard frowned, and Byleth did the best she could to take her hand. I swear that if I live I will rebuild.

The interior of the palace was much as she remembered. Stained-glass images of Wilhelm, Seiros and the Four Saints looked down on them. The palace guard was engaged in furious battle with Nemesis, Lamine, and Fraldarius. The Elites were as expressionless as their fellows, but Nemesis smiled. He swung his Sword of the Creator almost absently, toying with the soldiers before he cut them down.

He ran through one of the guards before turning to face Byleth. His gaze fell on her sword and his eyes widened a bit. "So, you managed to get my sword from that crazy Seiros. I have no idea how you got Sothis' blood, but it won't do you any good. Thief."

Edelgard hmphed. "You're one to talk. To think I once admired you as a liberator. Leave now, or I'll put you right back to the grave."

"What the blazes are you? One of those Nabateans? No, you're too small and ugly for that. And a bunch of cowards. I bet none of you have the guts to fight me one-on-one."

Claude readied Failnaught. "Guts are so overrated. I prefer pragmatism."

"Weaklings. Just for that, I'll put your heads on pikes after I'm done with you. Blaiddyd!"

A form appeared in the doorway separating the antechamber from the throne room proper. In life, Blaiddyd must have been a giant of a man, taller and more muscular than even Dimitri. He hefted Areadbhar in one hand. Nemesis nodded and jerked his head toward Claude. "Kill them. Start with the mouthy one."

Fraldarius was the first to charge, sword and shield in hand. Claude stepped around, ducking behind Hilda. She brought Freikugel down on the shield. White sparks flew as Relic hit Relic. Fraldarius left the smallest gap in her torso exposed. Byleth took the chance. She ducked under the combatants and stabbed Fraldarius. Fraldarius staggered backwards and so did Nemesis. A black streak appeared on his chest, deeper than the one before. Byleth and Claude had been right.

"Heh, you're smarter than most, I'll give you that. But that sword of yours can't do more than that as long as my minions are still around. And I've still got two." He lashed the sword towards Edelgard. She drew back, but not quite quickly enough as the blade drew a thin line of ooze and blood.

Byleth fell back to her. "El?"

"Don't tell me you're sweet on the dragon? You're as bad as Wilhelm. Always going on about true love. No stomach for a real fight."

Edelgard rose to her full, impressive height. "That's the difference between us. You have minions, and we have friends and loved ones we will fight and die for."

A smirk spread across Claude's face. "I had a somewhat longer speech planned, but she covered the gist of it. Attack."

Byleth aimed for Nemesis' neck. The shield of energy flickered, but held, shifting around and over the Sword of the Creator as if it were submerged in water. Lysithea summoned black tentacles of energy that even erupted from the ground and pierced Nemesis' armored boots. The shield shimmered, fainter, and Nemesis grunted in pain. "It's working!" Byleth shouted. "Don't let up."

Claude let fly an arrow. Lorenz muttered something under his breath, and the arrow was alight with magical flame. It hit Nemesis flush in the chest. His shield was very faint, like gossamer. Edelgard stretched forth her claws and opened her mouth. Purple flame spewed forth and the shield broke. Nemesis looked down in disbelief and slashed wildly at her. Byleth met his blade with her own. Back and forth they went, parrying and riptosing until Byleth's arms ached with the effort.

"As dramatic as this is, I'm not willing to leave the fate of Fódlan to a mere duel." Edelgard swiped at Nemesis with her good claw.. He parried, but he left an opening just as Fraldarius had. Byleth slashed at his chest once more, and this time the blow connected. Black blood spewed forth from the wound as a white light radiated out from his heart.

Not just his heart. Blaiddyd's and Lamine's too, their armor and robes crumbling as it spread. Byleth sank to her knees. They had won. Against all odds, the war was over and they had survived and won.

The light was almost to Nemesis' head. "Maybe I can't win, but I can still get my revenge." He inclined his head ever so slightly. There was nothing left of Blaiddyd but the arm holding Areadbhar. He pulled back in a final, jerky motion and threw.

Time slowed to a crawl. The lance pierced Edelgard's chest. She roared and stumbled, yanking at the haft. Only a flesh wound, like in those operas where the dastardly villain tried and failed one last time to kill the hero. But then Edelgard sank to her knees and crumpled on the ground. Byleth waited for her to rise again, for the husk to dissipate. But Edelgard lay there, unmoving and whimpering in pain.

No. They had won. She would not permit such a cruel, pointless ending. Time froze and a purple haze settled over the room. She merely had to reverse time and block the lance and everything would be as it should. She closed her eyes and began.

Time refused to budge.

I'm sorry, Sothis said. This is fate. A cruel fate, but fate nonetheless.

Tears streamed down Byleth's face. To the flames with fate and with goddesses too if this was the result. What good was trying to be a better person if you ended up right back where you started? Eight months only for Edelgard to be bleeding out in the throne room anyway. All she had accomplished was more death and a broken heart. For what? Byleth to have a temper tantrum?

A broken heart. One last magical spell would shatter the Crest Stone. She had brought Ingrid back from the brink of death. She could do so for Edelgard.

You truly wish to die for her? My, you must love her.

"I do." But it didn't feel like the tales of chivalry. There was a quiet, calm filling in her chest where before there had been only rage and grief. She wanted Edelgard to heal and thrive even if she wasn't there to see it and she had the power to make it happen.

Time began again and Byleth rushed to Edelgard's side. Her breathing was shallow, and her red eyes were glazed with pain. She turned her head towards Byleth. "I'm sorry, my darling."

"None of that."

Her laugh was a rattle. "I always knew that your path lay across my grave. You must find the courage to walk it."

"We forge our own paths," Byleth said and kissed her. Power flowed from her to Edelgard and she was dimly aware of the husk crumbling beneath her. The pain in her chest was like molten metal. Her ribs felt as if they were cracking in two. Her students shouted, but they seemed very far away. Edelgard's lips warmed under her and her breathing steadied.

Byleth collapsed on top of her. The pain in her chest grew and Byleth wished and waited for the inevitable. Oblivion would be a relief at this rate. Something thudded where the Crest Stone sat in her chest. Had set.

"Goddess,"Ignatz whispered. "Look at her hair."

Her hair? Why did they care about her hair right now? Was this some sort of bizarre afterlife for failed vessels?

No. The Crest Stone is gone, but you are still here. I think...I think that your heart is beating. You've grown yourself a soul.

How did someone grow a soul? It wasn't as if merchants sold seeds.

You loved. You loved someone so much that you gave your life for them. There's nothing more human than that. Now, wake up before the little ones decide that you are dead.

Byleth's eyes snapped open and she found herself face to face with Edelgard's lilac, human eyes. Her skin had the same unnatural pallor and the growths clung to her cheeks, but she was human and alive. "Byleth?" she rasped and touched her hair. "How? How are we alive? And your eyes..."

A few strands of hair fell in Byleth's face. Dark blue hair. She was human. "I'll explain it to you later. It'll probably take a while." She smiled, and her cheeks ached from the effort. "We have the rest of our lives."