Author's Note: I didn't mean for it to take so long to make last chapter, especially since it was the shortest chapter yet, but I found it really hard to write it. I'm glad I got to have Eliwood, Hector, and Lyn work together to defeat Mark, however. I'm also pretty happy I left Will out of it, instead of trying to throw him into it at the last moment.

This chapter I'm not sure how it will go over, but I knew I wanted to write it. I plan to wrap everything up by chapter 32 and move on to book two, so please be patient with me.

As always, please review if you get the chance. It warms the cockles of my heart.

Chapter 30: Mark

"Bandits! Bandits from the north!" The shouting of the town watchmen woke the young boy from his slumber. He leapt up in fear, unsure of where exactly he was or what was going on.

A moment later, his mother burst into the room. Her long white hair which usually laid upon her back was tied up in a bun, and her usual attire was replaced by her disheveled pajamas. "Honey, are you alright?"

The young boy nodded, his white hair bobbing as he did so. "What's going on?"

"The village is being attacked." His mother explained. "They think its bandits, but somehow I fear it's much worse than that."

"What do you mean?" The young boy asked.

"Never you mind, just grab what you can and come along." His mother replied. "The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"Okay…" The young boy said.

Mere minutes later, the two began to make their way out of the house and through the crowded streets, as many of the other families and merchants made for the gates. The back gate lead from the city and into the nearby mountains, so if the village was able to evacuate before the bandits attacked in earnest, they would be able to stay safe. Items could be replaced and houses rebuilt, but lives that were lost never returned. Even the young boy knew that much.

"Keep calm and move in a single file line!" The guardsmen called, directing the mother and son into the line. "No cutting ahead and don't cause a panic! Our walls are sturdy and we have several archers on the wall to hold the bandits at bay until everyone is safe!"

Whether it reinforced or discredited what the man said the young boy couldn't tell, but at that moment a large blast hit the wall. The boy didn't know what it was, and from the scared sounds the adults were making they didn't know either. The guardsmen who had been shouting fell silent, and went to the back of the line to stop a fight that had broken out.

The mother looked back in concern at the fight. To others it looked like a simple fight between a merchant and a townsperson, but to her it looked like something much more sinister. She couldn't be sure which of them were one of them while others were simply normal civilians, but she knew trying to push ahead in this crowd wouldn't get them anywhere either.

All they could do was wait. She hated waiting. It was why she had feared staying in this village for a long stay of time. It was why the desert air she had once loved in her youth had turned so sour to the point she wanted to leave it. The borders, however, were even less safe than her country. The King of the neighboring country had been denouncing their country's religion and recently had taken it upon himself to begin a campaign of destruction against them.

One might think that meant the enemy was at the gate instead, but no. Bandits were all too common, and the King's overzealous attacks on their country had led to shortages of everything. The shortages had prompted the rise in bandit population, and it was why in spite of her misgivings she had decided to stay in this village.

"Mommy?" The young boy asked, gripping her hand softly.

"It's alright son." The mother said, tousling his hair. "If worse comes to worse, you'll still be safe. After all, your mommy is a witch."

"A witch?" The young boy asked.

"Yes." The mother said with a smile. "Witches have magical powers. We get our strength from our feelings for others. Mine come from my love for you."

"Witches… love?" The young boy seemed to understand, but perhaps she still hadn't made it simple enough for him. Another loud explosive sound came from the village gates, and then a sound she dreaded hearing. A crash as the gates burst open.

"Stay with me." She said, gripping his hand tighter as the crowd of civilians began to panic at the appearance of their attackers, and the panic caused them to jostle and push against each other even more.

"Deliver unto me the Chosen, and your lives can be spared!" A commanding voice roared from the gates. A dark man in dark robes smiled as the people continued to panic, the fear in the voices only matched by the fear in their eyes as the dark mages began mowing down the townsfolk who were trying to escape.

Upon spotting the woman holding her child, the commander smiled. The woman grimaced as he directed the dark mages in her direction, and the time for kindness had passed. Throwing her shirt aside, she grabbed the short sword she had hidden on her back under her top, slashing through the first dark spell to come her way. She then leapt into a side alley, taking her son along with her.

The young boy looked further confused and afraid by the goings on, but the mother already knew what she had to do. "Do you trust me, honey?" She asked, touching the young boy's cheek.

He nodded. "You're my mommy, so of course I do."

"Good." She said. She turned and slashed through the first dark mage to enter the alley. "Never give up. Never let anyone tell you who you are. And, if you can find it in your heart… forgive your selfish mother." She said, as she killed the second mage. As she did so, she turned, and her free hand glowed strangely with a light that surrounded the young boy.

"Mommy?" The young boy shouted in fear.

"Goodbye." The mother said, a soft smile spreading across her face. "May Naga watch over you on your path."

The light surrounded the boy entirely, and as the commander came around the corner, grabbing the woman from behind, she smiled to see the light fade, taking her child along with it. "Where did you send the chosen?" The man demanded, his hand gripping her throat.

Her sword clattered to the ground and she grabbed his hand, a soft gurgling chuckle emitting from her throat. "Somewhere you will no longer be able to reach him." She said. "Your plans are for nothing."

"Wench." The commander growled. "That was not your decision to make." He gripped her throat tighter still, and as the village burned around him, the commander screamed in anger, choking the young woman until she moved no more.

"Mommy!" The boy called. He didn't know where he was. Next to him stood a large body of water, something he had never even seen before. The waves crashed and scared him, the sand beneath his feet the only comfort. He saw a vast expanse of trees stretching before him, but recognized none of it. The green itself was foreign to him, and he couldn't remember ever seeing anything like it.

He sat there, waiting for his mother to come. Whenever she had told him to wait for her, he always did, and she always came back. This time she hadn't told him to wait, but he couldn't let himself be worried. His mother was a witch, after all. That meant she'd be able to come back to him no matter what happened. She loved him, and would help him understand these things he didn't know.

At least, that's what should have happened. The sun set and the sky turned dark for a long time before the boy began to realize his mother wasn't coming for him. His stomach was beginning to growl as well. He wasn't sure how long he could wait for his mother. He was beginning to feel like he was dying, laying there starving with nothing to eat, because his mommy wouldn't come for him. Maybe there was food in the jungle?

Tentatively, the boy stood, making his way towards the green things he didn't recognize. He bent down, plucking a piece of the green before chomping on it. It didn't taste like anything, and it made him feel a little sick. He spat out the grass, crawling his way forward as he searched for food. He had been hungry before, Mommy couldn't always make food for them, but he had never been worried then. Now it felt like he had been abandoned, and there was nothing left for him.

"Mommy?" The boy said, feeling tears beginning to stream down his face. "Why aren't you here? You're a witch, aren't you? You'll help me, won't you? Mommy!"

The boy's crying continued as he inched along, but soon the sounds of the forest shut him up. The sudden growling of wolves was something he didn't know, but certainly felt enough to be scared by. He held back his tears then, hoping the wolves hadn't heard him.

Unfortunately, fate wasn't so kind. A howl let the boy turn around just in time to see a wolf attack him, teeth ripping into his side as he screamed in pain. The wolf would've continued its attack if a blast of dark magic hadn't hit the wolf, killing it in an explosion of blood that splattered across the ground. A man in a dark cloak approached the boy, and he couldn't back away in fear because of his injury. In fact, the boy was quite sure he was dying.

"Boy, how did you end up on this island?" A soft, gruff voice asked him.

"Mo-mommy sent me… she's a witch…" The boy managed in between tears and gasps of pain.

"A witch?" The man sounded confused. "Were you abandoned? How unfortunate." The boy's vision blurred as the man grabbed him and lifted him softly in his arms. "What's your name?"

The boy didn't respond for a few moments. "Mommy said… not to say… name…."

"I see. You're a very loyal child." The man said. "Then permit me to call you Mark for now, with that nasty gash of yours. Let me bring you back to my base. I can get you healed up."

The last of the boy's strength failed him as the man began to walk, and he fell into unconsciousness.

Mark grew accustomed to life with the Black Fang rather quickly. Nergal had been very kind to take him under his wing, and he learned much in the short time he spent with the man.

He learned his Mother had abandoned him to his fate. Nergal said witches often did that, as they were selfish creatures that thought only of themselves. He felt like Nergal's words contradicted those his mother had said, but how could he doubt the man who had saved him, clothed him, and given him a home? His mother wasn't there to explain it, and she had never been able to give him a place to call home like he had.

The first job he did gave him a strange feeling. He wasn't sure if it was elation or disgust that filled him as he slit the senator's throat. The man was corrupt, using funds from the people to feed his own greed and ambition. In Mark's mind… he fit the image of a witch quite well.

He began to understand that everyone had their own secret agendas and desires, and more often than not they fell prey to those desires. People in general were not good, and those who were got taken advantage of, deceived, and then thrown aside when their use had run out.

He decided he would not be one of the ones who got deceived or used until there was nothing of himself left. He would survive. It didn't have to be pretty, or glorious, but he wanted to live as long as possible. Perhaps his own selfish wish to one day see his mother again to find out the truth overpowered any other thoughts.

Mark obtained the title Angel of Deceit. He was the first to gain such a title, though Jaffar was perhaps the most infamous, being the Angel of Death and the most notable figure in their operations. Jaffar had always been the front man, while Mark was perfectly content to stab the target in the back if that ended the threat sooner.

He wasn't sure what the Black Fang, what Nergal's, true objectives were, nor did he care. Whatever Nergal wanted, he owed the man a life debt. At the time he may have only been a scared child, but that only increased his feelings of indebtedness. After all, it was much harder to care for a needy child than to take a teenager or full grown adult into the fold.

When he met the Leader of The Fang, he found himself unimpressed. Brendan Reed was not an imposing man, and did not seem like a very well together man. In Mark's opinion, Nergal's ambitions were much easier to understand than Reed's half-philosophies and phrasings that made no sense. He got along alright with Brendan's wife, Sonia. When Sonia shared that she had been Nergal's coworker for a long time, Mark understood why.

He supposed he just found it too difficult to trust people. Children couldn't be trusted to lie, and adults couldn't be trusted to tell the truth. Even though he now knew people, he still felt like he wasn't understood. Nor would anybody understand him. It just wasn't how the assassin business worked.

Then, he met Will. Will had been in much the same situation as his own. Not only was Will a tad bit younger than him, he had been shipwrecked upon the Dread Isle. His father and mother had gone down with the ship, leaving him all alone. In essence, it was the same as when his own mother had left him. A betrayal.

When he had looked into Will's eyes for the first time, he had sensed something he hadn't seen before. Something kept Will from giving up. It wasn't love for those he had lost, like some kind of Witch, nor was it anger at those who had left him, like Mark himself had felt. It wasn't even desire for food or shelter or a safe night's sleep.

In the only word he could find, Mark classified it as belief. More than anyone Mark had ever met, Will believed. What that belief was and what it was towards, Mark didn't know. But he wanted to know. The desire to find out roused feelings in him he had long forgotten.

It had prompted him to do something he had never done before: ask Nergal for a favor. At first, the black cloaked man had seemed surprised, but he let out a soft laugh Mark hadn't heard before. "Even you have desires, you see? Very well, I'll put him on your team. You'll have to take good care of him though."

Mark took those words to heart, trying to teach Will everything he needed to know. It was nice to have someone close to his age who was in the same situation. From how to wear gloves and facial masks to which poisons or daggers to use, he taught Will every single one. He never seemed to take to it as Mark had, or understand that his life no longer mattered if those one was bound to leave them.

If only things could've stayed that way. He couldn't claim perfection, he never would. But at least he wouldn't be alone. Once more however, his life was ruined by a Witch.

"Hello there!" Her bubbly voice cut through his day like a knife. "I'm Maria. I've been scouted to the Fang and placed under the Angel command! I hope to work well with you!"

Her voice was annoying and loud. Her presence was one that seemed to demand attention. He hated it. The instant he had the chance, he ran to Nergal.

"There is a reason I placed her under your care, Mark." Nergal said, his soft growl assuring him. "It is the same reason I let you have Will. They are dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Mark asked. "But you never mentioned this before."

"I did not wish to kill your excitement." Nergal said. "People are made differently, Mark. Some are meant for greatness, and can accept that. You have accepted it, as I have. People like Will are also meant for greatness. But they are not the kind able to handle their own abilities. In the end, it consumes them, leads them to a dark place… and they die." Nergal raised an eyebrow. "Only the great can lead the weak, and if the great refuse to be great then the only path left is one of destruction."

"The great… must lead…" Mark wasn't sure he understood, but it was time for him to go. The way Nergal trailed off told him he wanted to be left alone. He wasn't sure such a thing was possible, but Nergal was rarely wrong. As he left, he touched his left hand, as it throbbed annoyingly. This happened only rarely, and usually when Nergal would talk to him in front of that gate he always seemed to be investigating. It didn't matter, the pain would always go away soon after.

Maria was only going to cause problems. She would only lead the greatness meant for them astray. That meant there was only one thing he could do. The one thing that would end the threat and ensure he didn't lose Will. "Kill… the Witch."

It was lucky he had such good intuition. No, one may call it the thought process of a genius. If Maria was affecting Will, and they had turns coinciding with the guarding of the prisoners, it was likely that woman would try to 'save' them as well. It wasn't enough to take Will, she had to try and get them away as well. If that was the case, there was only one night they would try their little plan. Not only that, there was only one way for them to get off the island. The port.

He waited in front of the port, noticing the ship just out of sight on the evening air. That Witch had likely hired some sort of pirate gang to get them across the waters, though what she had given up to get them to forgo the fear of the Dread Isle was beyond him. No, he shouldn't lie to himself. Connections and money were most likely enough. That meant this Maria truly was an Ostian Spy like he had suspected ever since she arrived. The timing had been far too convenient.

"It's you…" Maria said, as she appeared from the brush. Whether Will was right behind her, or if she had come ahead of him, Mark couldn't be sure.

"Yes." Mark said. "I knew you would lead Will down a dark path."

"A Dark path…?" Maria asked, an eyebrow raised. "Darker than assassinations and the end of the world, you mean?" She asked.

"I don't know what you mean." Mark said.

"Nergal wants to destroy our world." Maria said. "He's trying to harness the energy of the Gate to use against the world."

"And?" Mark asked.

"And? Don't you understand? He's going to kill EVERYONE! Does that mean nothing to you?" Maria demanded, her hands reaching for her daggers. He knew it would come to this. It was meant to be this way, after all.

"No I don't." Mark said. "Nergal saved my life. It is his to do with as he sees fit."

"Then you are truly the saddest person I have ever met." Maria said.

"No. The saddest people are those who are now dead. They don't get to feel anything anymore." Mark said.

"What in the world happened to you?" Maria asked. "Why won't you let anyone help you?"

"Because everyone you believe in will betray you. They will always value something higher than you, and they will never come back after leaving you behind." Mark said. "Just as you will leave all those who believe in you betrayed with your death."

He opened his spellbook, and their duel began. Her daggers were swift and deadly, but his magic was much the same. Their skills were similar, but Mark's level was a cut above her own, and eventually her fancy dodging slowed, and one of his spells finally caught her.

He watched as the witch fell, and Will ran to her. He watched the young man cry over someone he barely knew as the life left her eyes. He could swear his saw her spirit leave, ascending towards the heavens only the Witches seemed to inhabit. Then Will turned on him, as he knew he would. Nothing ever lasted, and no one ever remained.

The only thing that surprised him was Will's attack. For some reason, in spite of himself, he hadn't seen it coming. Instead, he found himself unconscious on the ground. When he awoke, Will was gone along with the Witch's body and the prisoners.

"It is of little consequence in the long run." Nergal said. "Do not worry, I have sent Jaffar after him to finish the job. Meanwhile, there's something else I need you to take care of. In Caelin there is a power hungry man who has seized power. I do not expect him to last, but use him to keep Lycia divided if you can. The Taliver are free for you to use as well."

"The Taliver?" Mark asked.

"I used them some time ago to get rid of a bothersome tribe in Sacae. They have been useful a few times, and you may find them that way again." Nergal said.

For some reason, Mark knew Nergal did not expect him to return. No, it would be more accurate to say he did not want him to. That was fine. It just meant Mark had fulfilled his purpose. At last, he would be able to rest.

Lundgren was easily manipulated. One might even say he was desperate for it. It was strange to see a man so obsessed with titles and power also desire such leadership from others. He was so pathetic, Mark knew from the moment Lyndis surfaced the man was doomed. Not that he wouldn't fulfill his duty.

Using Caelin's resources, Mark did what he could to keep the forces of Lyndis at bay. At every turn, their forces were defeated. He realized quickly that Lyndis was being helped by Will, as several strategies the group employed were the self-same ones he had taught Will while in the Fang.

He had been lucky enough to confront Will on the hill outside a Black Fang complex. He hadn't known the Black Fang were there, but he was more than happy to assist them. He discovered the reason they were there was for the prisoners, which somehow Will had managed to save once again, though helped by a young lord with red hair. He confronted Will, trying to show him the difference in power and even defeating his petty reinforcements. It felt like a job well done, even if Will had managed to weasel his spell book into the tactician's hands.

In retrospect, perhaps confronting Will simply because he had the chance to had been a poor decision. Sure, the poison seemed to slow the Legion's progress as their tactician waned in usefulness, but their dedication to their cause seemed only to strengthen. In fact, instead of heading straight for Caelin, they managed to sway the other Lycian Nations to stay out of the inheritance dispute. Any chance Lundgren had went from bad to nearly non-existent. It was time for him to leave.

As he did so, he remembered his last conversation with Nergal. He would not be welcome back. The only place that had ever felt like anything akin to home was no longer his. As it always would be. So he would go to the Taliver. If he was right, Will would track him down. He would have no other choice. If he was lucky, Will would bring the new Witch he had bound himself to. Mark would be able to show him that Witches always left for the heavens.

Will did find him, though not in the way he had expected. Will had brought together the Lycian League to act as one to defeat the Taliver. Whether or not Will had told them about him, he didn't know. Even with that, his trap sat and waited to be sprung.

Will had done what Mark hoped. He sent the Witch to fight him. Even if Will had managed to see through his plan, he had no other choice but to send the best to fight him. The best was all he could use to try and kill him.

He defeated the axeman. He defeated the thief. The pegasus girl had lead the injured axeman away. That left this Lyndis woman. She stood no better chance than Maria had. At least, until that red haired lord and the blue haired loud one had appeared. Somehow, the three of them worked together in amazing harmony against him. Even his best efforts finally met their match in the three lords combining their might to face him.

He had forgotten about the thief. He never forgot. Perhaps he simply hadn't cared. The blow was enough. He felt his body beginning to collapse. He hit the ground, arm splayed to the side as he looked up into the sky. It was so… blue.

Lord Nergal… can we really be called angels? Does that mean when I die… I might see the Witch again? Does anything I've ever done mattered? Will anyone ever remember my name? No one remembers hers… no one remembers the Witch….

"The world keeps on turning. Betrayals, death, loyalty and survival… none of it ever matters in the end…"

"LOOK AT ME!" A voice was shouting at him, demanding satisfaction he could never give.

If we return to the beginning… to nothing… will I get a second chance? Can I be forgiven for the sin I never knew I committed? Why doesn't… why can't anyone help me know what's right?

"Lord Nergal… destroy everything… return us to nothing…"

An axe rose and fell, and the glazed eyes darkened as the life left them.

"Please… wake up…" A Voice was calling him. He didn't want to get up. His journey had finally come to an end.

"No. I'm sorry, but this was a journey you were never meant to take." The Voice responded. How could that be? His entire life had been the result of some prank? A cruel trick of fate?

"You must return." The Voice said. "Your world needs you. It needs you more than you could possibly understand." No one has ever been needed. The world turns until its inevitable destruction, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

"I don't believe that." The Voice said. "Strangely, I don't feel you believe it either." Why was that? It's not like the Voice understands what I've been through.

"And yet you dyed your hair. You hid the mark on your hand. Somehow you knew they were important, and what you did was not who you were." There's a difference? Seems like a lot of semantics.

"Perhaps." The voice responded in a warm chuckle. "Nonetheless, your journey has not ended. You will not remember what has happened, but I pray you choose the better path." Better path? Can anyone really know what's right in a world where nothing adds up?

"You're intelligence works against you." The Voice said. "It is not something that can be reasoned. You have to feel it." That's what I'm afraid of.

"Then don't let the fear consume you." The Voice said. "Fight… please… they cannot win without you."

Who can't?

"Chrom, we have to do something!" A voice.

"Well what do you propose we do?" Another voice, this one male. The previous one was a female. He didn't recognize either of them

"Uh… I dunno!" Did he know them? His eyes fluttered open. A young girl around fourteen years of age with blonde pigtails was standing over him. Next to her, in regal attire, stood a lord with blue hair. At his side was strapped a blade he felt like he should recognize, but couldn't.

"Look, he's awake now." The blue haired lord was smiling. Wait, wasn't he….

"Hey there." The blonde said. She smiled warmly at him. It felt strange. They shouldn't know him and he shouldn't know them. Why were they being so nice?

"There are better places to take a nap then on the ground you know. Here, give me your hand." The blue lord said, extending a hand. Without any reason to refuse, he gripped the hand that was offered to him. As he did, he noticed a glowing purple symbol on his hand that he didn't like. A strand of white hair fell into his face as he stood. How long had he been lying there? "You alright?" The lord asked.

"Y-yes." He replied. That's right… he knew who this was. "Thank you, Chrom."

As one story ended in the land of Elibe, another begins in a field, close to the land of Ylisse. The time, place and relation to Elibe is irrelevant. It is a tale of a group of fighters who overcame their pasts and even one potential future, to create a new world for those to come.