Welcome, and thank you for visiting this story! It's designed to mostly be fandom blind, but you'll definitely understand things best if you are a fan of the original work.
This is my very first story, so critiques and comments are very welcome!
Also, any italics during the story are the thoughts of the current POV character! And any at the end are probably the author's notes!
With that out of the way, onwards to the tale of legendary heroes, and the incredible adventures they traveled!
….….….….….….
Emptiness.
Emptiness was the only thing that he could feel, or sense.
His world was blank, bare, clear.
Where he had once memories, all are now null.
He felt as though he was sitting in a void, devoid of anything but his own body.
But then again, who was "he"?
All he knew was that he felt sleepy. Very, very sleepy.
Allowing the veil of the dreamworld to overtake him, he closed his eyes.
….….….….….….
The sleepy man's eyes opened with a sudden start, the light reaching them showing an entirely unfamiliar environment and situation. Ahead, a young blue-haired man could be seen charging forward with a blade in in his right hand. Looking down, the not-quite-wakeful man could see that he was running forward as well. It seemed that he was moving in a predetermined path, one that he had no direct control over.
The reason for this expenditure of energy quickly became clear: The younger blue-haired man was attacking some older appearing man with hair as black as dusk, who was wielding some sort of dark aura in his hands. It was dark magic, and no doubt very powerful. From a single glance, one could tell that this old man was the sort to have never done a single good deed in his life.
…Who was that man? The sudden waker had never seen him before. On that point, he had no clue of who the swordsman was, either. He hadn't heard them call out any names so far, or even anything resembling one, so he was honestly being left in the dark here. For now, he'd just have to keep calling them "evil man" and "swordsman" respectively, for he had little else to mark them by.
The two adversaries quickly became embroiled in a conflict of sword versus dark magic. Surprisingly, the dark magic the older man was using held up quite well against the sword wielding blue-haired man in close combat, with the two striking and feinting at each other in tandem. Is magic truly this powerful at close range? Interesting…
The dozing spectator sees himself raise his left hand, and it began sparkling with energy, eventually forming into a ball of flame. His hand then reached out, clearly hoping to turn the evil man in front of him into a pyre of flames. If there were any doubt as to whose allegiance he swore, it had been made clear.
It seemed that whatever magical attack he was forming was ready to unleash, all he had to do was aim it at the perfect location ahead of—
Just as the magically-inclined dozer had marked a trajectory, the evil man had disappeared in an instant! Where could he have gone off to in such short notice?
"Up there!" the blue-haired swordsman cautioned while pointing his sword to the sky, clearly communicating on where to aim the blast of flame.
At this, the man now allied with the swordsman looked up to find the evil man floating near the ceiling, charging a large ball of dark energy. He quickly unleashed his magic, causing purple lightning to crash into the ground at a high speed.
The man without a memory moved his body to dodge the lightning's area of effect, but was forced airborne from the blast caused by the lightning. Not a major issue, as he'd just need to adjust his magic's aim a bit to counter. His arm seemed to move on its own as it lined up a perfectly accurate blast, sending a Fire Blast careening towards his foe. A perfect shot!
—Or at least, it would have been, had the evil man not teleported away just in time. Again. Are you serious?
"You fool!" the evil man jeeringly taunted, as he teleported back to the ground level and continued to antagonize the blue swordsman with his patented purple lightning. For some reason, the evil man has been sending all his attacks towards the swordsman, while merely defending against against the other combatant. Perhaps he saw the swordsman as the larger threat?
A purple bolt made a clean strike against the blue swordsman, causing him to lose his footing as he was struck backwards. He shakily attempted to use his sword to assist in rising to his feet, but he was in a bad position.
The evil man also seemed to sense that this was the perfect opportunity to finish off his foe, as he formed a circular purple orb of magic that congealed above his head, growing larger and ever more threatening every moment he charged it for.
He cackled in a sick, twisted tone as he unleashed his amalgamation of dark magic, clearly taking pleasure in finishing off his poorly positioned opponent.
"Die!" he screeched, the dark orb now airborne and rapidly approaching the swordsman.
It was clear that without any external action, the blue-haired swordsman was about to breath his last, as he was clearly unprepared to be able to withstand such a powerful magical attack.
And that is exactly how the groggy man's body surprised him again. As though he was just a spectator in his own body, he moved in a perfect rhythm to create a blast of flame to intercept the dark magic.
The crossing of these two streams of magical energy caused both to disperse in an exhilarating blast of light. The intense light forced him into two options: to close his eyes briefly, or else suffer the pain of looking into a thousand suns. As human nature does, it chose the former.
When his eyes opened, he saw that the blast of magic had displaced the evil man, causing him to be about 40 yards away from his position. Clearly "slightly" miffed from the interference with the murder attempt of the swordsman, the evil man lets out a frustrated yet… oddly inquisitive… glare directed at the interloper.
Satisfied that the current distance from the evil man was enough to quickly assess the situation, the blank slate's line of sight was directed to his Southeast direction. In his view was the blue-haired swordsman, who now on his feet, only looking slightly the worse for wear.
For the first time during this conflict, he opened his mouth to speak more than a brief few words.
"This is it! Our final battle! You're one of us, Lunearc, and no "destiny" can change that. Now let's kill this dastard and be done with it!"
So, that comment supposedly at least answers one major question: my own name. Lunearc? Pronounced Lun-e-arc? Don't feel like that is a very common name, though on account of the fact I can't seem to remember quite much of anything right now, it's the only one I know.
The swordsman then directed to Lunearc that they both needed to close distance on the evil man. With the current distance between them and their foe, it would need to take a couple of actions.
Something else that drew Lunearc's attention was the dark and foreboding throne that the evil man was standing in front of. Something about its aura… drew him to it, but he couldn't even begin to describe this feeling. Surely, it isn't that important.
The pair both moved forward, side by side. After their first action to close distance, it became certain that the evil man was letting them approach him, not bothering to move his legs—or teleport—to cut them off.
He does, however, decide to taunt the pair. He loves to do that, apparently.
"Gya ha ha! Why do you resist? Your defeat is foreseen! Struggle all you want, for you cannot unwrite what is already written!"
As the swordsman and Lunearc began to reach striking distance to the malevolent mannered man, Lunearc charged up another Fire Blast in the palm of his left hand. He had been taking it for granted previously, but it seemed that while he had stored some magical tomes not unlike those the evil man was using to create his dark magic in pockets, his magic attacks lacked any sort of tome usage. In other words… the source of the magic seemed to be elsewhere entirely.
Lunearc could feel the pure energy seeping from his left hand into the fire magic, allowing it to concentrate into a single point of escape. He raised his left hand at the evil man and let all the flame energy release in an instant.
And, to his absolute awe, the blast of flames landed a direct hit on the foe's abdomen—he didn't teleport away this time, shockingly. What's more, he stumbled haggardly backwards from the collision of magic and body.
With the evil man's focus temporarily impaired, the swordsman sprinted into melee distance, and swung his sword directly into the chest of the foe, causing him to gasp in agony.
The blow was very effective, but the evil man still lived. While the swordsman had been taking his action, Lunearc had been preparing another killing strike of his own. At point blank range he unleashed one final Fire Blast to finally "kill this dastard", as the swordsman had succinctly stated.
The evil man had been of high fortitude for an archmagi, but even he had his limits. With the final Fire Blast hitting its target, he keeled over in defeat, the purple energy he had been using to power his magic seemingly consuming him as he fell.
At last, he lay motionless on the ground, aside from the all-consuming purple energy leaking from his body much like a flame would from a smoldering firepit.
Smiling, the blue-haired swordsman turned his body to his right to face Lunearc. As Chrom turned, one interesting detail caught Lunearc's attention: a brand on his right shoulder. It was quite easy to spot, as the swordsman wore armor that was sleeveless on his sword hand's side.
The brand itself was made of two main parts, the inner "tear-drop" shape, and the outer was somewhat like a colt's hoof that enveloped the bottom half of the "tear-drop". It had sharp edges at the ends that sloped downwards and out, as well as a third edge in the very bottom of the hoof that pointed directly down. The brand was certainly distinct, but Lunearc couldn't quite discern its purpose. Is it a tattoo, or perhaps a birthmark?
Before the pair could celebrate their victory, the malicious man seemingly revived out of nowhere, arching upward in a way that was both completely unnatural and inhuman. Looking into his eyes, a red glint of light could be seen emanating.
"ThIs IsNt OvEr! DaMn YoU bOtH!" he yelled, as he sent a parting gift in the form of – wait for it – a purple orb of dark energy. Typical fare from him, but also completely untimely. The blue swordsman was still facing towards Lunearc, completely unprepared to brace for the incoming dark magic.
Once again, Lunearc's body moved seemingly on its own, pushing the swordsman out of the magic orb's trajectory. Now in the direct line of fire of the magic, it rended both his body and mind—the power of dark magic is not to be underestimated.
He hit the ground with a hard thud, alive but in quite a lot of pain. The blue-haired swordsman was at his side to pick him up in a flash, with a face of deep concern.
"You alright?" he asked.
Exhausted, Lunearc simply nods.
This is enough to bring a small but noticeable smile back to Chrom's visage, as he continues to speak as he assists Lunearc off the stone brick floor.
"That's the end of him. Thanks to you we carried the day."
He was right. It seemed the evil man had used the last of his essence in the final strike, as the flames enveloping his body had consumed the rest of him, leaving only a charred spot on the ground where he had previously been.
"We can rest easy now, at long last."
At this point, it became difficult for Lunearc to focus on the swordsman's words, because his head started to sear from a sudden sharp, knifelike head pain. Even with his narrow scope of memory, he doubted that he'd ever had an agony so acute. The pain was so visceral that his entire line of vision had become ingrained with the color red. Maddening pain, feeling almost as if his mind was being torn from his body right before his eyes. Realization flooded into the swordsman of what was occurring, and he quickly responded.
"Huh, what's wrong!? Hey, hang on! -"
What he was about to say next was quickly cut off by a sharp crackle and an ensuing grimace of pain. As he stumbled backwards, it quickly became obvious to Lunearc what the cause of his interrupted speech had been.
Lightning.
There was a bolt of lightning protruding from his chest!
Pausing from the shock, Lunearc looked down to his right hand. It was still crackling with electricity. He raised his hand, comparing the shape and width of the lightning bolt to his hand as he stared in shock. Oh Gods, he did this. There can be no doubt to that.
Grievously wounded, the swordsman struggled to speak, but managed to deliver a message through gasps and deep breaths.
"This is not your… your fault. Promise me – Ngh – that you'll escape from this place. Please… go…"
As Lunearc backed away in horror from the still unnamed swordsman, his body began to laugh. A horrible, malevolent laugh. One that—despite his lack of knowledge on anything—he simply knew was not his own. All he could visualize was the swordsman lying face-first on the ground, dead. By Lunearc's own hand. The laughing only ever grew louder. It would never stop. This nightmare would never end—
THUD
… What was that? It felt as though Lunearc had been hit by something. Something that felt nothing like what he had felt in this reality. It hit him rather hard… but it felt oddly soft? And why did he smell sunflowers? Whatever it had been, it was blurring Lunearc's vision from the sight before him.
Everything grew dark, and then light again. He was waking up.
….….….….….….
"Chrom, we have to do something."
"What do you propose we do?"
"Eh, I don't know!"
Still groggy from his slumber, a young man was awoken to the sound of two people speaking. Were they speaking about him? As he opened his eyes, both speakers came into view.
On the left, there was a blue-haired man who seemed strangely familiar. He was the older of the two, seemingly in the early twenties in age. The young man racked his brain, attempting to parse through his head who this might be. Nothing connected.
On the right, a young lady with blonde hair, pigtails, and blue eyes. She seemed to be about a head shorter than the blue-haired man and was likely in her late teens. She was completely unfamiliar to the young man.
Noticing that the young man had opened his eyes, each of them gasped in surprise, shifting their complete attention to him.
"I see you're awake now." the blue haired man matter-of-factly stated.
"Hey there." the young lady greeted, with a mix of interest and concern.
The young man silently nodded to return her greeting, as well as to hopefully assuage her concerns about his well-being. This action had the intended effect, as the young lady smiled and lightly chuckled.
"There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know." the blue-haired man playfully chided, as the young lady gave an approving nod.
"Here, give me your hand. I'll help get you up." he continued, as he reached out his right hand to the young man.
As the young man gripped the blue-haired man's hand, he was able to look at his own right hand for the first time. It was a completely normal hand, with nothing noteworthy to speak of.
Using his center of gravity, the blue-haired man pulled the young man up so that they were face to face. The young man could have sworn that he had heard a shifting sound of metal armor, not only coming from the person who had picked him up, but also from himself.
"You all right?" The blue-haired man inquired.
"Y-yes, I think so. Thank you, Chrom." the young man replied in response.
"Ah, then you know who I am?" Chrom inquisitively followed up.
"No, I don't. Never have seen you in my life." the young man voiced in reply, denying having met before.
"Huh? Then how did you-"
"I heard the young lady next to you call you Chrom as I was waking, so I connected the dots. Actually, it was the very first word I fully noted."
The young lady clearly found this whole situation to be rather amusing, because she had begun to giggle a bit when she realized this entire misunderstanding had stemmed from her calling Chrom by name.
"…Hmm, I guess that makes sense. Though I am rather impressed that you were able to hear much of anything with how unconscious you were." The blue-haired man reasoned, but judging by his face, still had many more questions on his mind, "Tell me, what's your name? What brings you here?"
"…Hmm." the young man hummed, not responding in a normal way.
"…Hmm?"
"… My name? My name is… it must be… hmm... that's a great question."
The young man strained his eyes and mouthed out random words quietly, clearly trying to think of something that sounded like his name, but he continued to have no luck in that regard.
"You don't know your own name?"
"I'm sorry, but… it isn't coming to me. Wait, where am I, exactly?"
At this point, the young man began to look around his surroundings, hoping to find something – anything – vaguely familiar. All he saw was a large, open field, with some very tall grass. There were also smatterings of various types of flowers around the area, including sunflowers about five feet behind him. While the flowers looked very pretty, they were doing nothing to help him jog his memory.
"Hey, I've heard of this! It's called amnesia!" the young lady chimed in, hoping to shine light on the current situation of the young man.
"It's called a load of pegasus dung. We're to believe you know milord's name, but not your own? Even if we were to believe your excuse from earlier for knowing the name of milord, you being in this very location at this time is suspicious in of itself. You are fully armored, for God's sake." a new voice obstructed the conversation, skeptical of the man they had found.
The amnesiac man had not expected to hear another voice, and nearly jumped out of his boots from surprise. Quickly composing himself, he took stock of the source.
The man who had interrupted the conversation was rather tall, and had a dignified knightly look to him. What wasn't so dignified was his look of annoyance. If looks of annoyance could kill, the amnesiac young man would be dead where he stood. Though, the lance the knight held at his hip could kill in a literal sense, as opposed to figuratively. He was also heavily armored, with armor plates covering him in all areas except for his head, which sported moderately long brunette, brown hair.
Seriously, how did I miss this guy until now? Am I truly so discombobulated that I cannot even see three feet in front of me? The young man thought to himself.
Speaking of armor, the knightly man had made a comment about that. The amnesiac man looked at his body, observing that he was indeed wearing iron armor. It did not seem to be very well designed for comfort in the first place, but what didn't help that fact was that the armor itself seemed to be battle damaged. There were what looked like claw marks, and other parts of the armor were completely missing due to what seemed to be purple and black burn marks. Even his boots had been battle ready at some point, though they were not in great shape, either.
"I know it's strange, but it's the truth! I have no recollection of who I am, or why I was in this field. I don't know anything about the armor either!"
Chrom looked to be deep in thought for a moment, but quickly concluded. "Frederick, what if it IS true? We can't just leave him here, alone and confused. What kind of Shepherds would we be then?"
"Just the same, milord. I must emphasize the utmost of caution. 'Twould not do to let a wolf into our flock."
Why are there so many sheep metaphors? The amnesiac briefly thought to himself, but kept quiet for the time being.
"Right then – we'll take him back to town and sort this out there. The middle of a field makes about as good a place to have a serious talk as it does a place to sleep. That being, not a good one." Chrom decided.
The young woman seemed to be all for this decision, as she nodded her head while jumping up and down excitedly. Truly, she was a bundle of untapped energy.
Wait… what are they roping me into here? I didn't agree to this… the amnesiac man thought, still confused as could possibly be.
"Do I get any say in this, or are you going to drag me into town regardless of how I feel? This is all just too fast for me…"
"Nope!" the young woman lightly smiled. "You are in far too ragged of shape for us to just leave you here. I'll at least want to heal you and see if that does anything to help jog your memory!"
"Peace, friend—I promise we'll hear all you have to say back in town. Though, I'm quite certain that there is no healing magic that can cure amnesia, unfortunately." Chrom said, as he addressed both the young man and the young woman respectively.
"I know my healing magic is mostly for physical injuries, but I really want to experiment on this too! You never know if it'll work unless you give it your best shot after all!" the young woman pouted.
Chrom chuckled heartily at the young woman's pouting, and then gestured for the young man to follow him. Not seeing any chance or concrete reason to reject the offer, the young man followed along, not sure whether to be concerned or grateful.
….….….….….….
The four had gotten into a steady formation of travel, almost like a battle formation. Chrom and the young girl were leading the vanguard, the young man was the middle-guard, and Frederick the knight was the rearguard.
That's strange. Why do I know about battle formations?
As the decrepit iron armor slightly flayed against his skin, the amnesiac young man tried to draw his attention elsewhere. Naturally, he turned it to the people in front of him.
Chrom had armor throughout most of his body, though it seemed to be lighter, consisting of mostly leather, with metal in pivotal areas. The armor was lightest on his right arm, where he had decided that he would not wear any armor there at all.
The young healer wore a yellow dress to match her blonde hair, and there was a large white ribbon on the back side of the dress. While her upper body had little in the way of armor, she seemed to have a metal-like cage from her waist down. Perhaps it was there to protect her legs? She was carrying—no—swaying a staff from side to side as she walked.
She did mention being a healer before, so perhaps the staff is related in some way...?
She seemed to realize that the young man was looking at her and tilted her head as she smiled at him. The young man briefly smiled back before sensing a sharp glare from directly behind him.
That's when he realized: This battle-like formation was not created to repel enemies from the group, but instead to keep him inside and trapped, like a bunny in a cage.
While Chrom and the young woman walked ahead of him not too concerned with him being an issue, the ever-present Frederick behind keenly watched like a hawk for a single step out of place; a single movement that would justify the young man to be run through with his lance. Not the most comforting thought.
"I'm getting some mixed signals here. What are you planning to do with me? Are you planning on imprisoning me?"
"Hah!" Chrom laughed, potentially thinking the amnesiac has asked his question in jest, "You'll be free to go once we establish you're no enemy of Ylisse."
"Who is this "Elise"? Is she the leader of the village we are traveling to?" the young man asked, increasingly confused.
"What? No. That's not correct at all. You've never heard of the halidom?" Frederick chided in a serious tone, "Ha! Someone pay this actor. I've never seen one play quite the fool like him!"
"Halidom? What even is a Halidom?" the young man began to scratch his head as he continued to be as clueless as a goldfish.
"That furrowed brow you have is incredibly convincing. Have you now forgotten the meaning of basic words too?" Frederick said, sarcastically.
"Frederick, enough. A Halidom is a holy kingship or queenship. This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. Ylisse is pronounced "Ill-iss". There is a slightly silent "Y" at the very beginning. Our ruler, Emmeryn, holds the position of exalt." Chrom explained, doing his best to cover each point of the young man's confusion.
"I suppose proper introductions are in order. My name is Chrom – but then, you already knew that. The delicate one here is my little sister, Lissa."
"I am NOT delicate!" the delicate one exclaimed with a huff, "Ignore my brother, please. He can be a bit thick sometimes. I'd much prefer to be called a young lady over delicate. But you're lucky the Shepherds found you. Brigands would've been a rude awakening!" the delicate one young lady explained.
Yet another mention of Shepherds and sheep. Was this some sort of religious jargon I don't understand? the young man pondered, realizing that pondering was something he had been doing very often today.
"You all keep alluding to Shepherds. Isn't the main task of a shepherd to tend to sheep? What need is there for full armor?" the young man inquired wide eyed, beginning to go off on a tangent, "Are sheep here able to use weapons?! Have they finally risen against humanity!?"
"Heh, not quite. Sheep here are probably the same as you remember them." Chrom gave a hearty laugh, "Even so, it's a dangerous job. Just ask Frederick the Wary here."
"A title I shall wear with pride. Gods forbid one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution." Frederick pointed out, before offering a small level of sympathy, "I have every wish to trust you stranger, but my station mandates otherwise."
"I understand your conundrum completely. If I were in your position, I would find it impossible to trust a person with nary a memory to their name, including the name." the young man stated seriously, beginning to go into deep thought again. Closing his eyes briefly and tapping the back of his head with his right fist softly, he attempted once more to find a name that connected to him on a personal level.
There was that dream I had… I don't remember much about it, but maybe…my name?
"Ah, that must be it!" the young man exclaimed, opening his eyes abruptly and raising his closed fist into the air triumphantly, "My name is Lunearc!"
"Lunearc? I've never heard that name before. Is that foreign? … Ah, well. That's something we can discuss later." Chrom responded to the announcement of the young man's name, "We're almost to town. Once we get—"
"Chrom, look! The town!" Lissa yelled, as she gestured her arms forward erratically.
The party looked forward, seeing the town in a blaze. There were fires throughout the town, though they seemed to be most concentrated near the town hall and church.
"Damn it! Those blasted brigands, no doubt... Frederick, Lissa! Quickly!" Chrom ordered, motioning towards the town.
"What about him?" Frederick pointed to Lunearc.
"Unless he's on fire as well, it can wait!" Chrom wittingly responded.
"Aptly put."
"Let's just go already!" Lissa exclaimed, too concerned for the townsfolk to engage in banter.
With that, all three of the rowdy Ylissean Shepherds ran off to their destination: the ablaze village. And Lunearc was all alone once more.
"Wait, what about— Oh, they're long gone."
Lunearc was unsure of his next course of action. Chrom and the others didn't tell him to stay put, so he could just make an escape here and now. That would be his best choice, had his pre-amnesia self been a criminal or troublemaker. Or he could just wait here and hope they return, assuming he had been just an ordinary citizen. Fighting? Not an option, seeing as how he didn't have any sort of weapon. He put his hands on his hips, mapping out all his possible choices.
At that moment, he felt a rounded object on his outer left hip, at the top of his thigh. Huh...? Lunearc looked downwards to attempt to identify the errant object and was astounded at what he saw.
A sword. Holster and all. It even had a couple of pockets. How did he miss that?
Lunearc reached for the grip of the sword, eager to unholster this fortuitous blade. Sliding the sword from its holster and pointing the blade in the air, he took in the details.
The most striking detail was most certainly the fact that the blade was blue. Not just a superficial layer of blue, either. The entire blade was a translucent blue color, and Lunearc was able to see through the sword like one would look through a glass pane. But this couldn't have been glass, as a sword made of glass would be much lighter. The sword was double edged and looked to be very sharp.
So, if this isn't glass, is it made of diamond?
Such a thought was insane, in Lunearc's eyes. A sword made entirely of diamond!? How could such a thing exist? And yet, it did. Lunearc had the very proof in his hands.
Taking his attention off the diamond blade, Lunearc investigated the hilt. The first item that caught his attention was the guard of the sword. Typically, the guard of a sword is used to protect the hands of the user from enemy attacks. And this sword's guard seemed to fit that description. But what made this guard unique was the angle and its distinct color. With the blade to the sky and the hilt to the ground, the angle of each side of the cross guard was pointing upwards forty-five degrees, almost forming a "v" shape. And its color? Orange.
The handle and size of the sword seemed to indicate that this was primarily a one-handed sword by a strong wielder, with the option for two handed combat. The handle itself was made of a combination of white cloth and leather. The pommel used to counterweight the blade was a black and shiny stone of some kind that Lunearc was not able to immediately identify.
Prior to the discovery of this sword, Lunearc had been wrestling between the options of fleeing or remaining. But now, he could fight.
Taking a moment to weigh this newly uncovered path, he weighed the pros and cons. If he was able to fight, he may be able to protect the people of the village. What did he have to lose? Not very much. He still couldn't remember a darn thing about his past, and he didn't have any obvious leads that would get him any closer to doing so.
Seemed like the decision was pretty clear, then.
Lunearc took off into a full sprint towards the smoldering town having made his choice, hoping that he was not too late.
Let's just hope this sword won't shatter into a thousand pieces when it receives a blow. Lunearc thought to himself, praying the sword he wielded was not just a ceremonial one.
….….….….….….
(10/11/2022) Congrats, you've made it to the end of chapter 1!
This story is one I've been wanting to make for a long time now, so finally putting (metaphorical) pen to (metaphorical) paper feels great.
I plan on making this story one that shall span much of the Awakening game, with some very interesting twists and turns along the way!
Going forwards, this story will mostly be in Limited 3rd person. The introductory 1st person scene occurred mainly because our main character had zero clue as to what was happening, so I thought it'd be best to present that scene in 1st. (Edit: No longer in 1st person)
As stated before, this is my first story, so feedback is welcome.
None of this is beta read, so it's just a singular, highly biased set of eyeballs doing both the writing and corrections.
(10/29/2022) Changed faire to fare, couple other minor edits. Also, I made a little bit of pixel art for Lunearc's sword! Too bad FFN doesn't have square images.
(1/3/2023) typo (become - became)
(2/18/2023) Changed all present tense to past tense, and overhauled all 1st person slang to 3rd person limited. Have to say, this author's writing formatting sure has changed quite a lot! If you see any occurrences of I/me that shouldn't be there, please notify me! :)