Chapter 30: Child of Chaos

The border of Daein and Begnion, Tellius

Year 648

Celica's fire flared. The flames danced across her face and crackled against the frozen air like the splintering wood of a burning hearth. Building, waiting, ready to defend her against the armored man and his silver sword should he attempt an attack.

But the man made no move against her. He stood almost as still and rigid as the statues themselves, studying her through the slits of his thick, black mask. Though she couldn't see his eyes, the weight of his stare was unnerving—suffocating, even—and her fire flared again in warning. A warning that did not seem to scare him in the slightest.

Slowly, she brought her fingers together, preparing to snap another spell into existence—

"Fascinating," the man said suddenly. The distorted echo of his voice seemed to carry a cadence of…awe, of all things?

Celica blinked at him, her flames flickering with her uncertainty. It was hard to tell through all the armor, but the man seemed genuinely intrigued by her presence.

She couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

"You summoned fire magic without a tome." The man gestured to her flames; the black plating strapped to his arm clinked with the heavy movement. "How? A beorc should not be capable of such power."

"A…beorc?" Celica asked, frowning.

"You are a beorc, are you not?" The man grew quiet for a moment, relaxing his sword arm until his blade's tip brushed through the snow piling on the ground. "Or…you are Branded? Perhaps that is how you survived the Goddess's judgment."

Celica swallowed around the tightness in her throat. Beorc? Branded? Judgment from a goddess? What was he talking about?

"I…I do have a Brand, sir," Celica said slowly. She unfurled her hand, revealing the pattern etched into her palm. "Mila's Brand?"

"Mila?"

"…Never mind. That's not what's important right now." Celica sighed and waved the fire spell away, letting the flames dissipate into small, scattered embers. "What's important is—"

The man turned around and began to march away without another word, his armor clanging with every step.

"Wha—sir, please wait!"

The snow crunched beneath Celica's shoes as she jogged to catch up to him. Despite the bulkiness of his armor, the man was fairly quick of foot. "Where are you going?"

Without slowing his pace, the man said, "That information does not concern you."

"I'd argue otherwise." Celica tried to step into his path to force him to pause for a moment, but he simply swerved around her and kept moving. "You're the only living person I've encountered since I woke up here. I have no idea where I am, I'm not sure where my friends are—or if they're even safe—"

"That is your problem. Not mine."

Celica huffed. The breath left her lips in a short, warm puff that swirled around her nose. Stubborn, wasn't he? "Could you at least point me in the direction of someone who will talk to me? Something terrible could be coming here soon, and I must make sure the people here are prepared to face it."

"Look around, girl," the man said, the reverb in his voice taking on a sharp edge. "There is no one left for you to protect, no one left to listen to your prattle. The Goddess has passed her judgment, and only a select few have been spared the punishment."

Celica glanced between the statues, a fit of fluttering nerves building in the pit of her stomach. "Your goddess…did this? She turned her own people into stone?"

The man did not see fit to answer her, but Celica was not about to give up so easily. "Why? A goddess's role is to protect and support her people. Why instead would she do such a terrible thing to them?"

"It is not our place to question her intentions."

"But—"

The man came to a sudden halt, red cape whipping around his armored body. He sheathed his sword in one smooth motion, then tugged open a small, weathered drawstring pouch. From it, he dumped a pile of powder over the palm of his gauntleted hand, white dusting over black.

"This is where we must part ways," the man said. "You are certainly a curiosity, girl, but you are not the maiden I have been sent to collect. I will not keep my master waiting any longer."

"Please, sir," Celica pleaded, hesitantly reaching out to grasp the fabric of his cape. "Your goddess and the survivors you speak of could be in danger. I just need—"

"Farewell."

The man crushed the powder in his fist, and the world disappeared in a flash of white. The statues vanished from her vision, the chill of the snowy field snapped away from her skin, the air was ripped from her lungs. Celica couldn't breathe, couldn't see anything except the vast emptiness spread in all directions around her, couldn't feel anything except the crushing force of gravity as the world distorted and folded and—

In the next moment, she found herself staring up at the cracks of a stone castle wall, fingers still curled tightly into the armored man's cape.

She blinked once, twice, her mind slowly piecing together an explanation for what had just happened to them. Teleportation magic, it had to be. The man had cast some kind of warping spell—probably using that strange powder—and had whisked them both away from the frozen battlefield to the gates of a mysterious castle.

Though Celica had a feeling that the magical trip had been meant for one passenger, not two.

"Have you no sense of self-preservation?" The man's voice came out as a hiss, his mask doing nothing to hide his irritation. He yanked his cape from her hand with a forceful tug. "Stop following me. Do you know what happens to those foolish enough to cross paths with the Black Knight?"

Celica slowly shook her head. Snowflakes, large and small, fell from her curls with the movement. "Not really, no. But if you had any intention to harm me, sir, I believe you would have done so already. Am I wrong?"

The man—the "Black Knight," as he had named himself—said nothing, but his silence was the only answer Celica needed. He would probably continue to ignore her, leave her to her own devices should his mission call for it, but he wasn't going to hurt her.

So when the Black Knight strode silently through the gates of the castle, Celica followed suit. Really, what other choice did she have? She had been wandering those fields alone for far too long with nothing to show for it. If this man could lead her to someone who might be more willing to talk to her, someone who could help her find her way back to her friends and help the survivors of this world prepare for the invisible soldiers' next move, then she would stay by his side until he forced her from it.

The interior of the castle, unfortunately, was not much different than the outdoors: dark, cold, and eerily quiet. The torches lining the stone walls had long since gone out, leaving behind only scorched, rotting stumps of wood in the rusted sconces. Celica tried to relight them with her fire magic, but the flames refused to catch.

Perhaps it was for the best. The same stone statues Celica had encountered outside seemed to haunt the castle halls as well; the lack of light made it easier for her to ignore the pain and terror sculpted into their frozen faces.

Why would the goddess of this world do something so cruel to these people? Celica wondered, shivering and rubbing her arms to chase away the cold. Trapped beneath a thick layer of marble and stone, unable to move or blink or breathe for the rest of eternity…what had they done to deserve such a terrible punishment?

"…don…wha…appen…"

Celica perked up. Somewhere past the shadows of the castle halls, a far-off voice disrupted the silent air between her and the Black Knight. It was faint, almost inaudible in Celica's ears, but it excited her, nonetheless. Another voice meant another person—perhaps someone who would actually talk to her!

The Black Knight seemed to recognize the voice immediately. He pivoted in the direction of it and nearly doubled his pace; Celica had to start jogging to keep up with his long, armored strides.

"…n't care…was intentional or not!" A second voice joined the first. Male, teetering on the edge of full-blown rage. "Fix them! Now!"

"I don't know how!" The first person—a woman, Celica could tell now—spoke again. "Yune said we would be protected if I sang to the medallion. We should have all been safe within these walls!"

"Clearly, you were wrong. You both were." The male voice dropped dangerously low, every word spoken colder and sharper than the icy winds blowing outdoors. A crack of thunder magic electrified the air, making Celica's hair stand on end. "If you can't find a way to undo the medallion's spell within the next minute, then I swear to you, General, I will—"

"You will do nothing to her, boy."

The hallway poured into a small, damp chamber lit by a single burning torch. The Black Knight marched into the room—he had to duck his masked head to fit through the door frame—and at his appearance, the heated argument between the two people already inside was swiftly cut short.

"Sir Knight!" Torchlight glinted off the woman's silver hair as she spun around to face him. An orange-feathered bird sat perched on her shoulder, chirping and flapping its wings at the sight of the armored man. "You're all right! Goddess above, you have no idea how relieved I am to see you alive and well."

"I could say the same of you, Maiden of Dawn."

"I-I thought we were the only ones left!" The woman made a wild gesture to the other person in the room—a mage with long, black hair, a red mark drawn atop his forehead, and a fierce glare trained on the Black Knight—then to the stone statues scattered around the chamber. Most of them seemed like normal people to Celica at first glance, standing frozen in place with weapons drawn or stuck in a curled-up position on the ground. But some of the statues…

Celica suppressed a gasp. Some of the statues, strangely, had wings growing out of their backs. A few others had tails and fluffy, pointed ears, almost like they were part cat. Was that a side effect of the curse the goddess had cast, or was it normal for the people of this world to sprout wings and tails and cat ears? Celica honestly couldn't tell.

"I-It all happened so fast! I could hear a voice calling to me, telling me to sing the ancient galdr to free the spirit trapped in this medallion—to free the dark god—before the seal broke on its own." The woman snatched said medallion off the table built into the center of the chamber. It glimmered with a dull, blue shine between her fingers. "I did as she asked, and then there was this bright, blinding light that swept across the castle. And when I could finally see again…"

Wringing her hands around the medallion, she frowned up at the statue closest to her: a man reaching for a pair of daggers on his belt, face partially hidden behind a thick scarf.

"…Sothe…"

Slowly, her golden gaze turned to the statue of a girl dressed in heavy ceremonial robes.

"The Apostle…"

She dared a glance past the agitated mage, nodding to the statue of a tall man with short, spiked tufts of hair. His hand was clenched tightly around the handle of a sword that looked nearly identical to the one the Black Knight had sheathed at his side.

"Even Commander Ike," the woman finished. "Everyone turned to stone without reason, without warning. Everyone except…us…"

"How disappointing," The Black Knight made a sound that might have been a hum; it filtered through his mask with a sinister thrum. "I had hoped the son of Gawain would be strong enough to endure the Goddess's judgment, so I could finally test my skills against my teacher's progeny as equals…but it appears I overestimated the boy's abilities."

"I won't let you lay a finger on him," the black-haired mage growled through his teeth. He put himself between the statue and the Black Knight, a bundle of sparks crackling in his palm. More than prepared to defend the man encased in stone behind him. "Get out. Both of you. Now."

The Black Knight did not even bother to draw his sword. "You are in no position to be making threats or demands of me, boy. You know that none of your tomes can hurt me."

The sparks flared, illuminating the entire chamber. "Get out."

The woman held up her hands in an attempt to placate him. "Soren—that's your name, right? Please, we mustn't argue at a time like this. We are on opposing sides of this war, yes, but if we can put that aside for now—"

"Get. Out."

"I am here for Micaiah, the Maiden of Dawn," the Black Knight said, turning his back to Soren. "Not for you, and certainly not for your disappointment of a leader—not anymore."

Lightning burst from Soren's hand and struck the Black Knight's helmet with a thunderous crack, but the armored man did not even flinch at the impact. The only sound he made was a grumble of mild annoyance. Celica, on the other hand, bit back a surprised gasp and instinctively flung herself away from the Black Knight as the spell's static burned the air around him.

All eyes snapped to her as she stumbled into the middle of the room. If Micaiah and Soren hadn't noticed her before—the Black Knight's large frame had concealed her from view, though she hadn't meant to be hiding—they were certainly aware of her now.

"O-oh, um…hello?" Micaiah's wide gaze flicked nervously between Celica and the Black Knight. "Is this…a friend of yours, Sir Knight?"

"No."

"We…ah…just recently became acquainted with each other," Celica said, smoothing out her skirt. She gave a short, respectful bow at the waist, allowing her training as a princess and queen to guide her movements and speech. "My apologies if I've frightened you. I didn't mean to intrude on your…discussion. I can see there's a great deal of animosity and tension between you three that requires resolution, and I don't want to get in the way of that."

Soren's sharp eyes narrowed into slits. "Then leave. Unless you can help me undo all this"—he motioned to the statues—"I don't give a damn about anything you have to say."

Celica glanced down. "I wish I could, sir, but I'm afraid I don't know how to free your friends from this curse. I'm still unsure of what's actually happened to them."

"Then leave, before I—"

"But I dohave information about another threat," Celica said, raising her chin, "one that jeopardizes not only the lives of those trapped in stone, but the lives of everyone. Mine, yours, even your goddess's."

"The goddess…?" Micaiah mumbled. Her bird pecked at her shoulder, chirping with several high-pitched, urgent trills.

"I'm not sure how much time we have," Celica continued, "but I do know this: if you aren't prepared to face it, then you won't ever get a chance to save your friends and your people. I will share everything I know with you—everything I am allowed to share, at least—if you can spare a few minutes of your time to listen."

"We have wasted enough time here already," the Black Knight said, shaking his head and turning to Micaiah. "Maiden, my master has requested your presence at the Tower of Guidance. Whatever 'threat' this woman speaks of is of no concern to—"

Micaiah held up her hand, silencing him. Through the darkness, Celica could just barely see the dull, far-off gaze that had fallen over her red eyes.

Wait, red eyes? Celica could have sworn they had been lighter in color just a moment ago.

"Who are you?" Micaiah asked slowly. Her voice had taken on a softer, almost child-like lilt, and the bird on her shoulder had grown as quiet and still as the statues behind her. "Why are you here?"

"My name is Celica, my lady. I am…" Celica straightened her posture and met Micaiah's eyes. "This may sound a bit strange, and may be a bit difficult to believe, but I am—"

"You are not of this world, are you?"

"What?" Celica stared at her, dumbfounded, her regal composure faltering under the weight of her shock. "How did you—?"

"It is fairly obvious to someone like me." A mischievous smile played at the corners of Micaiah's lips. She scratched the bird's forehead; it still did not move. "Me me. Not Micaiah—she's as confused as the rest of you right now. But I think it's time for me to take over, so we can get things moving a little faster."

"…So, the Child of Chaos has been freed, after all," the Black Knight mused to himself, seemingly unperturbed by her sudden change. Soren's wide-eyed gaze told Celica that he was just as confused as she was right now.

She was glad she wasn't alone in that regard, at least.

"I would like to see what you've seen for myself." Micaiah glided across the stone floor and raised a glowing hand to Celica's forehead. "May I? It will only take a moment to look through your mind."

Lips pinched tightly together, Celica forced herself to nod. She really wasn't fond of the idea of a stranger using magic to sort through her memories, but if it would help convince them of the encroaching danger…

Warmth flooded Celica's mind as Micaiah's fingers brushed her temples, and in an instant, Celica saw everything flash before her eyes.

The fires that had taken her family. The flowers she and Alm had picked together in Ram Village as children. Her training as a priestess at the priory with her closest friends. Her journey across land and sea to save all of Valentia from ruin. Mila's bones and Duma's corpse and their blood, fresh and thick, dripping off Alm's sword. Their wedding and their coronation, the sleepless nights they spent struggling to piece their broken kingdoms back together, the faces of the dead haunting them and destroying most of their progress and hurting the people she held dear and ruining so many lives across so many worlds and—

"Don't cry, Celica."

Micaiah's thumb gently wiped away the tears building at the corners of Celica's eyes. A gesture that should have felt too intimate and invasive coming from a stranger, but Celica, as strange as it was, found an odd comfort in it. The tenderness in Micaiah's voice, the soft warmth of her aura bathing the chamber like the spring's first sunrise…

For a moment, it felt like Mila was with her again.

"Thank you for sharing your knowledge with me," Micaiah said. All traces of her earlier playfulness had disappeared entirely, now replaced by something much more serious. "You have suffered—no, you have endured—a great deal, yet you continue to press on with a strength and a kindness so few mortals possess."

Celica could only nod, too drained and, frankly, too overwhelmed to speak.

"Those of us spared by Ashera's judgment must now find that same strength within ourselves," Micaiah continued, "if Tellius is to survive the battles to come." Hazy red eyes swept over the Black Knight and Soren, and Micaiah's expression turned grim. "The dead march on us all—mortals and gods alike."

"What are you talking about?" Soren's knuckles were white as his fingers gripped down on the binding of his tome. "The dead? Ashera's judgment? Gods and mortals? What does any of this have to do with—"

"It has everything to do with our current predicament," Micaiah snapped. "If you would just use those ear holes for a second and listen to me, you impatient bone-cage, maybe you wouldn't be so confused."

Soren arched an eyebrow. "Bone-cage?"

"I am Yune, the one you mortals have been so rudely calling the dark god." Micaiah—or rather, Yune speaking through Micaiah—puffed out her chest with pride. "I prefer the Goddess of Chaos, or the Embodiment of Freedom and Emotion. I think those are much more accurate descriptions."

Soren's eyes narrowed on the blue medallion still resting in her hand. "You're the spirit that was trapped in there."

"Very astute observation, little meatling." Yune giggled at Soren's scowl then tossed the medallion over her shoulder like she was discarding trash. "Yes, I was sealed away nearly a millennium ago by my other half—Ashera, the Goddess of Order—and her devotees. My imprisonment was terribly boring, but I endured it because of our pact."

"Pact?" Celica asked, her throat still tight and dry from Yune's touch.

"Ashera wanted to wipe out the beorc" — she pointed to the human statues for Celica's reference— "and the laguz" — she motioned to the beast-people with wings and tails — "because they were constantly warring with each other, which interfered with her desire for absolute order across Tellius. But she agreed to give the beorc and laguz a second chance at the behest of her loyal followers…"

Yune slid a knowing look to the Black Knight. "One of those followers was your beloved master, was it not?"

"…Perhaps."

"And so," Yune continued, "Ashera promised to let the beorc and laguz live if they could coexist together in harmony for a thousand years while she and I slumbered. If they began to war again before that time expired, Ashera and I were supposed to be awakened by the Galdr of Release so we could decide together how to punish them for breaking their promise of peace."

"And this was the punishment you chose?" Soren asked bitterly. "To turn us all to stone?"

"I had no part in this decision," Micaiah said, glaring at him. "When we were awakened by the galdr, Ashera reneged on our agreement and cast her judgment without me. I expected that she might—she has always hated me, since my existence threatens the world of order she wishes to create—so I used my powers to protect the people in this room from her judgment."

Soren crossed his arms and frowned at the statues. "I don't think your protection worked."

"…Let me rephrase," Yune said, placing a hand against the statue of the dagger-wielding man. A single tear fell from her lashes; Celica had a feeling it did not belong to Yune. "My powers were supposed to protect them, but…for reasons I could not fathom until your arrival…Ashera's magic superseded mine. We are meant to be equals, two sides of a scale that balances the presence of order and chaos in the world, but somehow…the scale tipped completely in Ashera's favor, as though my powers didn't matter at all."

"Well, it seems like you were at least able to protect Soren and your knight friend?" Celica suggested. "That must count for something."

Yune clicked her tongue and shook her head. "The Black Knight and that air-sucker were never in danger to begin with. They are Branded, equal parts beorc and laguz. Ashera's judgment was created to punish only the beorc and the laguz, not those who are a mixture of both." Her hands curled into fists, and a soft, blue light radiated off the surface of her skin. "No, something is terribly wrong here. Commander Ike, the Apostle of Begnion, the Hawk King, and everyone else here should have been safe from Ashera in my presence, unless…"

"…unless something, or someone, has weakened you," Celica finished for her. And though she did not—could not—say it out loud, Celica was fairly certain who was to blame for that. Yune likely suspected the same, having seen Celica's memories for herself.

But that raised the question: if Anankos's influence was beginning to bleed into this world, too, why had only Yune's power been weakened? If he was trying to steal power from other gods, as he had done to Byleth and the captives trapped in Valla, both Yune and Ashera should have been affected by the dragon's reach…and yet…

"I am still unsure of what happened exactly," Yune said. "To be honest, I don't really feel any weaker—just a bit sleepy, maybe—but the interference of this otherworldly threat seems to be the best explanation for my powers failing."

"Otherworldly threat?" the Black Knight asked.

"I'll explain on the way to the Tower of Guidance." Yune twirled a lock of silver hair around her finger. "You wanted to take Micaiah there anyway, right? Then let's get going. Ashera will be waiting at the top, and we need to warn her about what's coming. Perhaps she'll be willing to free these statues if we can convince her that this new enemy is more of a threat to her world of order than the beorc and laguz are."

"We?" Soren scoffed. "Don't rope me into this. I'm not going anywhere with you or him." He sneered at the Black Knight. "Especially him."

Yune fixed Soren with another intense glare. "You're quite presumptuous for an ugly flesh pile, aren't you? I was inviting Celica to come with us, not you." She stuck up her nose at him. "Micaiah doesn't like you, and I'm bordering on hate."

"The feeling is mutual."

"I-I think it would be better for all of us to go together," Celica said quickly, before things could get too heated again, "so we can present a united front to this Goddess of Order. That way, she'll see that the two opposing sides of your war have put aside their differences for the sake of the greater good. Isn't that what she wants?"

Yune grumbled but nodded. "I suppose our cooperation might make her more apt to listen to us…hm…okay, blood-bag, change of plans. You're coming with us after all."

Soren clutched his tome tighter. "I said no. I'm not leaving my fri—my commander and my allies here alone."

"Sir Knight," Yune sighed, "if you would?"

"…As my lady commands."

"I'm not going any—hey!"

The Black Knight's hand shot toward Soren in a blur of black and captured his arm in a tight grip. Soren clawed at his fingers and kicked at his calves, yelling at the armored man to let him go, but the Black Knight paid his struggles no mind as he dragged him over to the women of the group.

"It will only take a moment for us to travel to the tower," the Black Knight said, scooping out another dose of white powder. "Grab my cape."

Celica and Yune did as he instructed, each picking up a different corner of the red fabric. Taking a long, deep breath, Celica planted her feet, sent a silent prayer to Mila, and braced herself for what she knew was soon to come.

"Hold on tight."

The chamber disappeared in a flash of blinding light, and Celica along with it.

Character Bios:

Ashera: Order Incarnate

—The Goddess of Order, and an entity who values stability, law, and restriction above all else. After being awakened by Micaiah singing the Galdr of Release, she punished the beorc and laguz of Tellius for their constant fighting by turning each and every one of them to stone—and somehow, even those who were supposed to be protected by Yune's presence.

—Relations: One half of the goddess Ashunera.

The Black Knight: ?

—A mysterious masked knight with armor and weaponry blessed by the gods. He is wholly devoted to his "master," and desires to perfect his swordsmanship by challenging the most powerful warriors in all of Tellius. On many occasions, he has appeared to save Micaiah from danger over the course of Daein's war for reasons unknown.

—Wielder of Alondite and master of the skill Eclipse

—Relations: Unknown.

Ike: Vanguard

—Commander of the Greil Mercenaries. A swordsman of great renown who once defeated the Mad King of Daein to protect Crimea and all of Tellius from his hostile conquest. He is a man respected by both beorc and laguz alike, and feared by any opponent unlucky enough to find themselves facing him on the field of battle. Petrified by Ashera in 648.

—Wielder of Ragnell and master of the skill Aether

—Relations: Son of Greil and Elena (both deceased). Brother of Mist (petrified).

Micaiah: Light Priestess

—Leader of the Dawn Brigade and General of the Daein Liberation Army, known by many as the "Silver-Haired Maiden" and "Maiden of Dawn." She worked as a fortune teller as a young woman to make ends meet, and eventually rose up to fight Begnion's occupation of Daein after the defeat of Mad King Ashnard. Because of her work with the Dawn Brigade, the lost prince of Daein, Pelleas, appointed her general of his armies so they could restore Daein to its former glory together. One of the Branded.

—Wielder of Thani

—Relations: Sister of Sanaki (petrified). Childhood friend of Sothe (petrified). Vessel of the Goddess of Chaos, Yune.

Soren: Archsage

—Tactician of the Greil Mercenaries. A cynical and blunt man who was orphaned at a young age and was often the target for terrible abuse and prejudice due to his Branded heritage. After a young Ike saved him from starving in the streets by offering him his stash of food, Soren was determined to serve and protect the boy who had saved his life—the only person who had ever shown him kindness.

—Relations: Childhood friend of Ike (petrified).

Yune: Chaos Manifest

—The Goddess of Chaos, and the embodiment of freedom, emotion, and passion. Ashera and her loyal followers sealed her away in a medallion for a thousand years so she could not spread her "chaotic" influence among the masses. After being freed by Micaiah singing the Galdr of Release, she attempted to stop Ashera from passing her judgment on a select group of heroes but, for reasons unknown, was unable to do so.

—Relations: One half of the goddess Ashunera. Micaiah's close friend (in the form of an orange bird).

I was planning on releasing this chapter early for the anniversary of this fic's first published chapter on AO3 (3/28), but my laptop broke and had to go into the repair shop for a few days…so it ended up being later than usual instead. Sorry for the delay—I'm hoping to get back on my usual every other week schedule soon, given my laptop doesn't go kaput on me again.

Also, have you seen the trailer that dropped today for Three Hopes? I am so excited for that game, it looks like it will be a lot of fun!

Next chapter: Ascending the Tower of Guidance.