Chapter 39: Reminiscence

Bulgar, The Nation of Sacae, Elibe

Year 1000

Roy brushed his hand over the wall of Lyn's bunker. The stone was thick, sturdy, and several layers deep, built to withstand battering rams, siege engines, explosive blasts of magic, anything a hostile enemy might try to use to tear down the walls of the small fortress. Safe from all manner of threats, living or dead.

Would it be enough to hold off Hector and his legendary axe? No one could say for sure, but Roy knew in his gut, in his heart, in his soul, that it didn't really matter. It didn't matter how thick the walls, how sturdy the stone. It didn't even matter whether Hector or any of his undead "friends" could break through the bunker's defenses. It could be the safest place in all of Elibe, and it still wouldn't matter.

Because, above all else, they needed to get to the Dragon's Gate. Roy knew it as well as he knew his own name.

And he knew, with every fiber of his being, he could not afford to ignore his instincts any longer.

"Father," Roy started, turning away from the wall to tug on Eliwood's arm, "we need to—"

"Absolutely not."

Eliwood kept his sharp eyes trained on the door, shrugging off Roy's touch to readjust his grip on his sword. Weakened as his arms were from the lingering effects of his illness, Eliwood still managed to handle the silver blade with strong, steady hands, poised and prepared to strike down the first sign of danger. A hardened knight, through and through.

Unfortunately for Roy, his father was also proving to be a very stubborn knight, too.

"Father, please," Roy tried again. "We need to find a way to the Dragon's Gate. I know it's dangerous, but—"

"Dangerous?" Eliwood's fingers tightened around the silver sword. "It's not just dangerous—it's suicidal. The trip to the Dread Isle is hostile enough without the threat of these undead soldiers hanging over us. To try to navigate the island's treacherous waters, while also having to avoid an army of ghosts who use water as their main method of transport?" He coughed, the sound shallow and hoarse in the quiet of the bunker. "We might as well save Hector the trouble and drown ourselves right here and now."

An icy grip squeezed Roy's chest, the nerves of his impatience flaring like frozen fire. "I understand your concerns, Father, but the consequences of ignoring this call from the Dragon's Gate could be worse than—"

"We are staying. Right. Here." Eliwood's words were firm and final. The practiced authority of both a marquess and a father, all folded into a few short words. "I will hear no more of it, Roy."

Roy curled his fingers, biting red crescents into his palms. "But I—"

"The safest place between us and the enemy," Lyn interjected, her voice taking on a softer cadence, "is right here. Mark is the most capable tactician in all of Elibe. With him directing the great warriors of Bulgar, any intruder that dares step foot into our city will be cut down swiftly, and without mercy." She tapped her golden sister-blades together, eyes alight with fiery determination. "And if Hector comes for you again, he'll have two legendary swords he'll need to contend with first."

"A-and my tome," Lilina added from her corner of the bunker, legs crossed over the floor and arms clutching Forblaze close to her chest. Her voice carried much less confidence than Lyn's, but no less resolve. "He won't lay another hand on you. I…I swear it."

The cold agitation stirring inside Roy coiled across his shoulders, hanging heavy and tense around his neck. "That's not what I'm—"

"If traveling to the Dragon's Gate is really that important to you," Lyn continued, "then, perhaps, after the dead have been dealt with, we can consider taking a trip to Valor? As a compromise?" Eliwood shot her a baffled look, but Lyn waved it off. "We would need some time to prepare for the journey, of course, but I think if we're careful enough with our planning, we could find a way to reach—"

"NO!"

A harsh, animalistic growl tore through the bunker. Roy flinched, thinking the sound had been a snarl from Petra's protective wyvern, but the way everyone in the room turned to him, eyes wide and stamped with shock, quickly told him that the wyvern was not to blame.

"I… um…" Roy cleared his throat, an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. Part of him wanted to shrink back from their stares—it wasn't like him to lose his temper, much less growl like some kind of beast—but he rooted himself in place and forced himself to stand tall. He had their attention now, for better or for worse, and he wasn't going to let the opportunity go to waste.

"I know staying here might seem like the best course of action," Roy said. "I don't doubt Mark's talents as a tactician, nor your skills as a swordswoman and as a chieftain of the plains, Lady Lyndis." Roy glanced up to Eliwood, meeting his eyes directly. "And I would never make light of your judgment, Father. I know every decision you make is in service of the greater good—not just for your family, but for all of Elibe."

Eliwood's gaze softened before it drifted to the floor.

"But please," Roy clasped a hand over his father's, "listen to me when I say: we can't stay here. There is something important connected to the Dragon's Gate, I can feel it." Roy swallowed hard, the aching memory of his drowning lungs still burning his throat. The menacing, garbled voice of a ghost still hissing in his ears. "Something Lord Hector doesn't want us to reach."

"Like what?" Eliwood asked. "We don't know if our Dragon's Gate can perform the same feats as the one Odin described. All we know for certain is that it was built to serve as a bridge between this world and…"

Slowly, Eliwood's brow knitted into a deep furrow. His sword arm fell to his side, frown tightening with a grim realization.

"…the world of dragons," he muttered. "Their sanctuary to escape the effects of the Scouring."

"Nils's home." Lyn's face paled. "If the dead have been targeting dragons like Fae, the Dark Priestess of Bern, and part-dragons like Roy, then they might also seek to turn their weapons on Nils and the rest of the dragonkin."

Roy nodded. "The world beyond the Dragon's Gate might very well be their next target." He turned to the door, watching it with trepidation. "And Hector might be here—stalking us , attacking us, scaring us into hiding—to keep us from interfering."

"Or, maybe, to keep you and your world stuck in isolation," Odin suggested. He had dropped his usual theatrics, speaking clearly and plainly to honor the gravity of the situation at hand. "If it happens that your Gate does work like the one I'm familiar with, and can open pathways to multiple worlds outside of this dragon sanctuary, then steering you away from the Gate means cutting you off from potential allies."

"And you have very powerful weapons," Petra said. "There is a sword that can defeat the evil dragon, but it is needing the power of other legendary weapons to be strong enough to fight him." Her eyes swept the bunker, pausing on the Binding Blade, Lyn's swords, and Lilina's tome. "Weapons the enemy would want to be stopping, to weaken the special sword."

Eliwood slumped back against the wall and ran a hand over his face. "By the Eight."

"Whatever their true motivation may be," Roy said, "the point still remains: we need to get to the Dragon's Gate, either to secure it for ourselves or to warn Nils about what's coming. Staying here may be the safest course of action for us, but by hiding ourselves away, waiting for the enemy to make the next move…"

"We're playing right into their hands," Lyn grumbled, glaring at the door. "Winds curse them!"

Eliwood heaved a heavy sigh. "Be that as it may, it doesn't change the problem at hand. A trip to the Dragon's Gate would be far too dangerous for us as we are now, not to mention time-consuming. It would take us several days of riding just to reach the coast, then several more to find someone skilled and willing enough to sail the island's deadly waters—and that's before taking these undead water-soldiers into consideration."

"Well…" Roy eyed Petra's wyvern. "What if we were to avoid the water all together?"

Eliwood followed his gaze, then pursed his lips into a thin line.

"It would eliminate the risks of sailing to the Dread Isle," Roy continued, "and would reduce the time it normally takes to—"

"My wyvern can only be flying with three people," Petra said, scratching her mount between its horns, "or else the weight will be too heavy for her wings."

Roy's shoulders sagged. "Oh…"

"What about Bern?" Lyn suggested. "They have no shortage of flying beasts, if Zephiel's conquest was anything to go by. We could ride south and ask Bern's soon-to-be Queen to lend us a few wyverns, then make for the Dragon's Gate from there."

A cold chill—an agony that was not his own—stabbed through Roy's forehead, like someone had rammed an icicle into his skull. He bit back a sharp gasp and gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut in a feeble attempt to dull the pain.

"The Etrurian and Lycian forces are still in Bern, too," Lilina added, rising to her feet. "Miss Cecelia's letter mentioned they were bolstering their defenses within Bern's borders to help keep Fae safe from another attack, so that she might avoid the Demon Dragon's fate. Perhaps we can recruit some of our friends and these new troops to—"

"N-no." Roy's protest was fragile and shaky in his throat. "There's…there's no time for that…"

"We don't have many other options, Roy," Eliwood said, a frown deepening the thin wrinkles around his mouth. He nudged a chair in Roy's direction, gesturing for him to take a seat, but Roy shook his head, standing as tall as the discomforting sensations plaguing his body would allow.

"I know," Roy said, "but we have to get there as quickly as possible. We have to—urgh!"

Panic crawled up his throat, freezing his lungs, his chest, his tongue. A warning, a cry of pain, tearing through his blood, gripping his core so thoroughly that he doubled over and collapsed against the wall. What did it mean? What did it mean?

"Roy!"

His father was at his side in an instant, keeping him upright, shaking his shoulders, speaking to him, but his heart was pounding so hard against his ears that he couldn't make out any of the frantic words. The tormenting chill struck his head again, and a sharp pain sliced across his knee. Pain, he knew, that belonged to someone else.

"We're running out of time," Roy whispered. Quiet, small, frightened. "We—they might already be under attack."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Lyn paced restlessly around the bunker. "We can't get there on horseback, sailing is too dangerous, flying will apparently take too long. And if we don't get there soon enough, then Nils might—might—" She dug a hand into her hair, muttering, "Come on, Lyn. Think, think!"

"…There is another option," Odin said slowly, hesitantly. "It's not ideal, but if getting to your Dragon's Gate is really that important, then…"

He dug around his pocket and scooped out a small, clear crystal. The candlelight caught on its rounded edges, sparkling with a soft, ethereal glow that chased away the shadows of the bunker.

"The 'last resort' you mentioned in the stables?" Lilina asked, stepping closer to inspect the gem's magic for herself.

Odin nodded. "A transport crystal. It can take you anywhere you want to go in an instant, even if that place is located in another world entirely." A frown took hold in his expression as he rolled it between his fingers. "At least, that's what I was told. I've never actually tried it."

"Really?" Lyn narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "Sounds like that would have come in handy a long time ago. You couldn't have mentioned this earlier?"

Odin winced. "Like I said, it's a last resort. It can only be used once before it breaks, so you have to choose where and when you use it very carefully. My friends and I were each gifted one in exchange for…" He sighed and shook his head, holding the gem out for them to take. "It doesn't matter. You can have it, if you'd like. Just know that if you use it now to warp to the Dragon's Gate, you won't be able to use it to leave the Dragon's Gate, if the Gate doesn't work as intended."

"Meaning if something were to go awry," Eliwood muttered, "we would be stranded on the Dread Isle, with no reliable means of escape. I don't think that's—"

"I'll do it," Roy said. "I'll go."

Eliwood snapped his head around, tightening his hold on Roy's shoulders. "Roy—"

Roy pushed himself off the wall and shrugged off his father's grip. His patience was wearing thin. Time itself was wearing thin. He wouldn't, couldn't, waste another second on this insufferable inaction.

Head pounding, he reached for the crystal sitting in Odin's palm, but Eliwood snatched his wrist before Roy could take it.

(Another growl threatened to claw its way out of Roy's throat, but this time he managed to keep the rumble confined to his chest)

"Roy, listen to me," Eliwood said. Firm, but far from calm. "You're not well, and you're not thinking clearly. We all want to help, I swear we do, but if you dive into this without first giving it some rational—"

"We don't have time for that anymore!" Roy yanked his wrist out of Eliwood's hold. "The dead aren't going to wait for us to make a decision. Every minute we waste arguing is another minute of destruction we allow them to inflict on the world—on Uncle Nils and the dragons beyond the Gate." His voice cracked as he added, "Mother's people. Her family. I feel their pain, as if it's my own."

A grimace passed over Eliwood's expression. He swallowed hard, fiddling with his wedding ring for a silent, contemplative moment before speaking again.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" he asked. "If you're wrong, or if you've been misled by these…these senses you inherited from your mother…" He curled his hand around his ring finger, knuckles going white, and his voice sunk under a swell of heavy emotion. "Tragedy has visited us one too many times already, Roy. I don't want to see it claim my son, too."

"I…" Roy struggled to meet his father's sullen gaze directly. So much grief, so much guilt, so much sorrow held behind those eyes, a look the venerated Marquess of Pherae, the brave Blazing Knight of Lycia, rarely allowed anyone to see.

But Roy couldn't back down. Not anymore.

"I'm sure," Roy said, and he meant it. "I don't know what exactly is waiting at the Dragon's Gate, or if those connected to it can even be saved, but I don't believe Mother's instincts would lead me astray." He set his shoulders straight and drew his sword. The ancient flames burning beneath the blade's surface chased away his inner chill. "This is something I have to do."

Eliwood nodded. Slow, solemn, but accepting. "If you feel that strongly about it, my son," he said, "then I will not stop you."

Roy breathed a sigh of relief, the tight knots in his stomach and the pain in his head slowly unwinding with his father's quiet blessing. "Thank you—"

"On two conditions."

Eliwood held up a hand before Roy could voice any form of protest. He slid his ring off his finger, pressed a quick, gentle kiss to the silver band, then passed it off. The ring was colder than ice against Roy's palm, but the chilled weight of it was oddly comforting.

"First condition," Eliwood said. "You will take your mother's ring for protection. Ninian believed it to be imbued with the blessing of Ninis, the spirit of ice, as a way to safeguard its user or the user's allies from harm." A fond smile caught the corner of his lips as he squeezed Roy's hand. "It served us well on our adventures together. I'm sure you, as a child of both dragon and man, will find even better use of it than I have."

Roy curled his fist around the ring and nodded.

"Second condition." Eliwood rolled his shoulders back and readjusted his grip on his silver blade. "I'm coming with you."

Roy's frown snapped back into place. "Father, you can't. Your health is—"

"Good enough for me to swing a sword around," Eliwood said. "I'm not quite the knight I used to be, I admit, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten how to hold my own in a fight."

"But—"

"Don't worry," Lyn said, stepping up to Eliwood's side. "He'll have me to back him up." She patted her old friend's back before securing the bow on her back and the swords at her hips. "Just like old times."

"And don't forget about us!" Lilina hooked her arm around Roy's elbow. Behind her, Petra and Odin were already preparing to leave, testing the weight of their weapons and the strength of their spells. "Where you go, we all go. We're in this together—no ifs, ands, or buts."

The small seeds of protest on Roy's tongue withered under the warmth of Lilina's touch. He managed a short but determined smile, empowered by the show of solidarity from his family and friends, by the cold kiss of his mother's silver ring, by the enchanted flames burning inside the Binding Blade's steel, ready to answer its master's call.

Ready to strike down any who would threaten his mother's homeland, and bring peace to Elibe once and for all.

"You'll hear no further argument from me," he said. "Let's get to it."

"I'll leave a note for Mark and our allies outside," Lyn said, scribbling a quill pen over a torn piece of paper, "so they don't panic when they find us missing. Go ahead and start whatever magical ritual you need to perform to get that crystal working."

"There's no ritual." Odin scratched his head and eyed the crystal in his hand. "At least, I don't think there is. Pretty sure you just think about where you want to go, and it will take you there." A playful smile slowly spread across his face. "However, if the steadfast Lady of the Plains would dare peer into the chaotic shadows of the mystic arts, Odin Dark will gladly prepare the grandest, darkest, most wondrous ritual ever to be witnessed by—"

"Just get us to the Dragon's Gate."

Odin dropped the dramatic act again with a pout. "Sure, but it will probably work better if someone who's actually been there uses the crystal. Someone who can visualize it in their mind. I might accidentally take us somewhere completely different."

"Give it here, then," Eliwood said. "That place will be forever burned into my memory, no matter how many times I try to bury it."

"…Right." Odin awkwardly cleared his throat and handed the crystal off. "Just look into it and…er, I don't really know. Picture the Dragon's Gate, I guess? Imagine yourself there with all of us at your side, wyvern and horse included." Under a hushed, excited breath, he whispered, "A mission with THE Eliwood…just wait until Inigo and Sev hear about this!"

Eliwood arched an eyebrow at him, but kept his gaze focused on the crystal.

"Oh!" Odin waved the rest of the room toward him. "Everyone get in close! We need to make sure we're all within its—"

A quick, sharp flash of white light snapped across the bunker. Roy threw his arm over his face, ears ringing and stomach flipping as the sudden burst of magic overwhelmed each and every one of his senses. Tight pressure folded and warped the world around him, and Roy feared he might be crushed along with it until—

It stopped.

Moist, damp air clung to Roy's skin, carrying a whiff of salt and sulfur that tickled the back of his throat. He coughed, opening his eyes and blinking black spots away from his blurry vision…

Finding himself in a completely new place.

The bunker's sturdy stone floor had been flattened into smooth, green, dusty tiling. The walls had been stretched out to tower over his head, and the candlelight, once soft and dim, had been replaced by rows of mounted braziers crackling with lustrous green fire, lighting the steps of a massive, steep staircase that loomed over the chamber's center. Shadows slithered across the ceiling and hung over an archway sitting just beyond the top of the stairs, so distant and dark that not even the mystical fire seemed to reach them.

Shadows that could only belong to the Dread Isle.

"—range?" Odin finished, stumbling and blinking around the grand chamber. It was largely empty, save for themselves and the humidity. No enemies in sight—thank the Eight. "Whoa, okay. That worked way easier than I expected."

"Frighteningly easy." Lyn shivered and rubbed her arms, frowning as she too took in their new surroundings. She kicked at the dusty build-up on the tiling with her toe. "At the very least, it doesn't seem like anyone has been here for quite some time. Dead or otherwise."

"Perhaps," Eliwood said. True to Odin's word, the transport crystal had withered into silver sand in his hand, about as useful now as the dust Lyn had just disturbed. "But we can't be too sure. We need to secure the area and block any potential entryways, before Hector and his water-men catch wind of our whereabouts. We can't risk an ambush while we're trying to interact with the Gate."

"I'll seal the doors," Lilina said, turning to the chamber's main entrance and summoning a ball of fire from the pages of her tome. "If we melt their edges to the frame and the floor, and use the heat to warp the hinges, it should make the doors much more difficult to open for any intruders."

Petra was already climbing onto her wyvern's back when she added, "And I can be searching the ceilings, to check for cracks and secret openings."

"Then the rest of us have the chamber," Eliwood said. "Roy and I will start down here. Lyndis, Odin, you've got the stairs and the—"

A faint, low-pitched rumble sent light tremors through the floor. Fire and steel flashed as Roy and his allies readied their weapons, on guard and prepared to defend against the first sign of danger.

But no such sign presented itself. The rumbling persisted, echoing out from the archway veiled in shadows, but the sound was more soft and subdued than it was threatening. More groan than growl, like the shallow breath of a wounded animal.

Or, Roy came to realize, a wounded dragon.

Chest tightening, Roy immediately began to climb the staircase.

"Wait, Roy!" Eliwood called out behind him. Roy only hurried faster up the steps—and if his father had said anything else, Roy didn't hear it. All he could focus on was the labored breathing, the shadowy archway, and the innate pull he felt toward both.

The icy chill pumping through his veins wouldn't allow for anything else.

The shadows parted in a swirl of smoke when he reached the top of the staircase. Stone columns carved with the faces of dragons framed the archway, holding a dark, murky void of space between them. Empty, filled only with the groans of a creature in pain on the other side.

The Dragon's Gate.

Roy stepped closer, and the eyes of the stone dragons alighted with green fire. A pinprick of light flashed through the darkness of the void. Roy reached for it—

A strong hand pulled him back and held him in place.

"You're going to give your poor father a heart attack, Roy." Distantly, he registered the voice as Lyn's, but he couldn't tear his attention away from the Dragon's Gate.

"I want to help them, too," she continued, "but we need to be careful. The scars of the Scouring run deep, and there are plenty of dragons who still hold a grudge against humanity for what the war did to their people. We might be in for a not-so-welcome reception if we're not cautious about how we—"

"L…Lyn?"

A hollow voice spoke through the rumbling groans. A voice Roy knew he had never heard before, but one he recognized all the same. "Lyn?" it came again, stronger. "Lyndis, is that…you?"

Lyn's grip on Roy loosened. "Nils?"

A quiet whimper was the only answer she received.

"You're right, Nils," Lyn said, tone softening. "It's me. Lyndis. It's going to be okay. I'm here to help you, with Eliwood and—" she glanced to Roy, then slowly let go of his arm "—and his son. Ninian's son, your nephew."

"Eliwood… and… Ninian's…?" The shallow groans twisted into a frantic whine. "No… no! You shouldn't… you shouldn't be here!"

"Why not?" Lyn asked. "Nils, what happened?"

"H-he brought so many of them… so many… a-and that sword!" Another whimper, another cry of pain. "He will come back… they always come back…!"

Lyn swallowed a sharp breath and, after a moment's hesitation, said, "Open the gateway, Nils. If you let us in, we can treat your wounds and—"

"No! I can't…I can't let him hurt you, too…"

"Please, Nils," Lyn pleaded. "We want to help you. We've had to fight them, too, in Sacae. I know you're scared, but if you let us—"

"No! I promised… I wouldn't open it again. Not after Nergal!"

Lyn swore to the Winds. She threw a worried look over her shoulder, waving Eliwood over as he finally crested the massive staircase, red-faced and short of breath.

"It's just as we feared," Lyn said. "They've already been attacked. Nils is injured, but…" She turned back to the archway, biting her lip. "He won't open the Dragon's Gate for us."

"I-it's for your own good!" Nils's voice said through the void. "I'll keep him away from your world when he returns… for as long as I can… so just…" The voice cracked. "For Ninian's sake, just go…"

"My connection to Mother is what guided us here," Roy said, stepping up to the darkness swirling between the columns. The dot of light expanded at his approach, though not enough for Roy to see anything meaningful through it. "I've felt your pain, and your fear. I think Mother feels it, too, from—" the words hitched in his throat "—from her place of rest."

A low whine and a short sniffle pierced the dark barrier between their worlds. "I knew it… Ninian… she… she's…"

"She wants us to help you." Roy lifted his hand over the void's light, shivering as wisps of pure, raw power danced between his fingers and touched his mother's ring. "So please, Uncle, let us help you."

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Silence, and the warmth of the light on Roy's fingertips. He dared to push his hand in a bit further, letting it disappear into the murky darkness, into the faint light.

Then, something cold nuzzled against his palm and the ring. Something rough and scaled, like jagged ridges of ice carved into a frozen lake. Light overtook the darkness of the gateway, hissing and glowing and spinning to life. The image between the pillars cleared as the void fell away…

Revealing the forehead of a three-legged ice dragon pressed against his palm.

The dragon purred, the gold-streaked frills around its face perking up at the sight of them. Frost breath puffed through its fangs and nostrils, swirling around its mouth like frozen steam. Deep gashes had been sliced into its blue-scaled hide, and the lower half of its hind leg was completely missing, but the way the dragon's tail swished back-and-forth over the ground indicated that its relief at their presence outweighed its pain.

"It…it really is you…" The dragon pulled back from Roy's hand to sniff around his face and hair. Its breath was cold, but comforting. "Ninian's son…no doubt." The tail swished faster as both Eliwood and Lyn walked up to the open barrier, staring up at the dragon in equal parts awe and concern. "He looks just like you… Lord Eliwood."

Eliwood patted Roy on the shoulder. "So I've heard." His expression hardened, though, as his eyes fell across the dragon's injuries. "By the Eight…Nils…"

Lyn said nothing. She pressed her lips into a tight line and immediately began to rummage through her supplies, taking a vulnerary and an elixir into each hand.

"I-it's not so bad," the dragon said with a slight sniffle. "There's less pain when I…here…"

The dragon hobbled back a few paces and lowered itself to the ground. It breathed out one last puff of frozen air before light enwrapped its large body, swirling, flashing, humming until the dragon disappeared from sight completely. When the light dispersed, a young human boy had taken the dragon's place in the grass, hair as light as ice and one leg stumped at the knee.

Lyn was the first to, fearlessly, step all the way through the Dragon's Gate into Nils's world, hurrying to his side and dropping down to one knee. Roy and Eliwood were quick to follow, after scanning the world beyond for any immediate threats.

"Here," Lyn said softly, uncapping the elixir. "Drink."

Nils took the bottle with trembling fingers, downing it in only a few gulps. The cuts on his pale skin instantly mended back together, scar-free, but his leg remained unchanged. Potions could only heal so much.

"You really shouldn't stay here for too long," Nils said, picking at the frayed ends of his yellow scarf. "We're going to be attacked again soon, I can feel it. Which means he—" his voice wavered and cracked "—he will be back soon."

"Who?" Lyn frowned at Nils's leg. "Hector? Did Hector do this to you?"

Nils's red eyes flew wide open. "Hector? Why would Lord Hector ever attack me? He's our friend."

A heavy silence hung between them. Lyn's breath hitched, Eliwood glanced away, Roy stared at his feet. Slowly but surely, grim realization fell over Nils's face.

"He's gone, too, isn't he?" he whispered, curling into himself. "Ninian… and now… L-Lord Hector…"

Lyn cleared her throat and wiped at the corner of her eye. "I suppose it's good, at least, that you haven't seen him here," she said. "But if he didn't do this to you, then who…?"

Nils hugged himself even tighter.

"The man with the golden sword."

Roy froze. The man with the golden sword. He had heard those words before—or rather, he had read them before. Lady Cecilia had used them in her letter to describe the invisible soldier who had killed Bern's dragon priestess in cold blood, stealing her life away when she had no means, and no will, to defend herself.

And now, it seemed, he had come to do the same to Nils.

"That sword. It's—" Nils shuddered, pressing his hands protectively around his stumped leg. "It cuts into scales and dragon flesh like a knife through paper. It burns you from the inside out, like the blade is laced with a vicious poison that strikes fire to your blood, your muscles, your heart…" He tried to conceal a sniffle, but failed. "I've…I've never felt such agonizing pain before…"

Roy pressed a hand to his chest. Those terrible phantom pains he had suffered back in the bunker—they had belonged to his uncle, after all.

"Where is he now?" Lyn asked, a dangerous glint shining in her narrowed eyes. "I'll make sure he never hurts you like that again. You have my word."

"I-I don't know," Nils said. "He always brings an army of ghosts and wyrmslayers with him, attacking every dragon he can find without mercy and without remorse, like… like…" He drew in a shaky breath. "Like it's the second coming of the Scouring. Every time we strike them down, they just come back. They always come back, and we always lose someone else."

Eliwood frowned back at the gateway. "Sounds like what we've experienced with Hector."

"I'm sorry," Nils mumbled. "I don't know what else we're supposed to do. I brought the children here to keep them away from the fighting, but…" He curled a fist around a clump of grass. "There's not much I can do for them now, not with a missing leg. Even dragons have their limits."

"Wait," Lyn said. "Children? Dragon children?"

Nils nodded toward a lush grove growing green and vibrant in the distance. It was hard to tell through the bushes and trees, but if Roy squinted hard enough, he could spot the occasional glimmer of red, blue, and gold scales under the warm light of the sun. Young dragons, cowering behind the thick green of the grove.

"Hatchlings," Nils said softly. "They scurried away when I opened the Gate." He cast an uneasy glance at the sword in Roy's hand. "To a dragon, especially one so young, there's nothing more terrifying than the sight of a human wielding one of the Scouring's dragon-slaying weapons."

"…Oh…"

Roy quickly sheathed the Binding Blade, offering the friendliest smile he could muster in the grove's direction. Two of the young dragons were brave enough to pop their heads over the bushes, studying him with wary, curious eyes, but the rest remained hidden from sight.

"These undead soldiers," Lyn said slowly, quietly seething, "and this man with his golden blade, would stoop so low as to attack children?"

Nils twisted his hand into his scarf. "They already have. That sword has claimed many of us, both young and old. They just…" The yellow fabric crumpled in his fist. "Want us all dead."

"To what end?" Lyn frowned at the grove; the dragons watching them were no larger than fawns. "The monster controlling these soldiers, what could it possibly hope to gain by—"

"Hey! Hey!" Odin called out to them from the other side of the Dragon's Gate. "We've got a problem back here!"

Everyone tensed and whirled around at once. "What's wrong?" Eliwood asked, stepping closer to the open barrier. "Blast! Has Hector found us already? If you haven't sealed the temple doors yet, then we need—"

"I-I sealed them," Lilina whispered, face tight and devoid of all color. "But he—he's not trying to use the doors to get inside."

Lilina pointed a trembling finger up to the temple's ceiling. Roy hurried over to the gateway and stuck his head through the magic barrier, to better see what had her so frightened.

His stomach instantly dropped.

An invisible force was manipulating the moisture of the island's humid climate, ripping drops of water vapor from the air, from the walls, and smashing them together into an orb of swirling mist. Growing ever larger, and larger, and larger, until…

A gauntleted hand shot through the expanding portal of water.

"I told you…" Hector's voice seethed through the mist, "not to come here… boy."

Lilina hurled a ball of fire at the flickering hand, exploding the orb and the gauntlet into thousands of water beads that splattered across the temple's upper walls. She bit back a sob and cried out, "Leave us alone, Father! Stop trying to hurt him, please!"

The water droplets peeled off the walls and merged together once more. "And… you have turned… my daughter… against me?!"

Eliwood yanked Roy away from the Dragon's Gate and pulled him behind his back. "Lilina, Odin, keep shooting him with whatever spells you can summon. Don't let him get through that mist!"

"…Eliwood…!" the water hissed. "You left me… to die!"

"Help Lyndis take Nils and the children somewhere safe to hide," Eliwood whispered back to Roy. "If we can hold him back for long enough, it might give us enough time to think of a better—"

The screams and shrill cries of the young dragons cut through his father's words. Roy swiveled around on his heel—

And the sight before him froze the very breath in his lungs.

A man with a golden sword marched toward them from across the field, flanked by flickering soldiers dragging wyrmslayers through the grass. A blue-haired pegasus knight hovered protectively over their leader's back, both rider and mount shrouded in the same dark, purple energy that consumed all the undead.

Even from this great distance, the sight of the golden blade, bloodied and impossibly sharp, stirred up a primal fear in Roy's gut that he couldn't seem to shake.

"Th-that's him!" Nils cried. He tried to push himself off the ground, but he slipped on his hands and fell back into the grass before he could even try to kneel on his one good leg. "N-not again!"

Lyn ripped her swords out of their sheathes and slid in front of him, putting herself between the undead army and her allies with no hesitation.

Nils gaped at her. "Lyn, what are you—"

"I promised I wouldn't let him hurt you again," Lyn said, not once taking her eyes off the enemy line. "That's a promise I intend to keep."

"No!" Nils tried to grab her ankle, but she was too far out of his reach. "They're too strong! You have to go! Take the kids, take my nephew, go back to Elibe and—"

"We're not leaving you behind, Uncle," Roy said, drawing the Binding Blade again. "We were sent here for a reason: to save you, and to safeguard the Dragon's Gate. We can't afford to back down now."

"But—"

"Nils, the Gate," Eliwood said quickly, bending down to Nils's level. "Is there any way we can utilize the Dragon's Gate? Can it open a portal to another world outside of Elibe, one that the invaders might have trouble following us into?"

"I…" Nils pulled at his scarf. "I've never tried changing the destination of the Dragon's Gate before, b-but I think—at least, according to the stories—it can take you anywhere connected to the astral plane. It might take some time to calibrate it to a new world, but—"

"That's good enough for me." Eliwood scooped him off the ground and helped him stand. "We'll help the children and buy you as much time as we can." He set his jaw, glaring first at the blasts of fire attempting to keep Hector at bay, then at the army stalking ever closer to their position. "Somehow."

Nils swallowed hard. "Okay. I'll… I'll try."

Eliwood turned his hardened gaze to Roy, and the brave face began to crack. "Roy—"

"I know, Father." Roy held up his free hand, and his silver ring glittered under the light of the open sky. "Don't worry. I have Mother's protection now, remember?"

Eliwood drew a deep breath and nodded. "Of course."

Roy twisted back around, facing the shadowy army alongside Lyn. The closer that golden blade came, the more his unease grew—but also, his resolve. He knew, deep down, that this is what that mysterious voice, his instincts, and his mother's blood, had all sent him here to do.

"Please watch over us, Mother," he whispered to the ring. He called forth the ancient flames of his legendary sword and steadied his stance, steeling his mind for the battle to come.

"And grant us whatever strength you can."

Character Bios:

Caeda: Falcon Knight

—PrIncess of Talys and Fiancée of the Hero-King Marth. A kind-hearted but protective young woman who WILL stop at nothing to DEFEND her friends and Her people from those who would wIsh theM harm. Known for her persuasive TOngue and her expertise at fighting on pegasusback, Caeda proved an invaluable Member of the front lines of the Hero-King's armY, in not one, but two deadLy wArS. She and The Hero-King share a Beautiful love that tRanscEnds even the dArkness of deaTH—I have made sure of it.

—Wielder of the Wing Spear

—Relations: Daughter of Mostyn. Fiancée of Marth (deceased).

Nils: Manakete / Bard

—A stubborn whelp who would rather cling to his savage nature than embrace the salvation our sword provides. He should have died in the Scouring, alongside the rest of his ilk…a mistake soon to be rectified.

—Relations: Son of Aenir (deceased). Brother of Ninian (deceased). Uncle of Roy.

Apologies for the lateness of this chapter. We've hit a really busy part of the year, and had very little free time to work on fic writing. Thank you for your patience and your continued support!

"Reminiscence" is Ninian's theme from FE7. A very beautiful, if not sad, song that helped set the mood while writing this chapter :')

Next chapter: A melee of magic and fangs and swords.