Chained

Lucina reclaimed her consciousness slowly, as if a nightmare still had its hands around her throat and refused to let go. She tried to move and recoiled when iron fiery pain shot through her arms.

Ike?

The thought didn't make it from her mind to her lips. When she forced breath into her lungs, she choked on the taste of blood and brackish water. She couldn't make out any surface on which she might be lying, only numbness around her wrists and ankles. A great cold trickled through her body, but the smell didn't match the storm-lashed sky of the mountains. Around Lucina hung the smell of a grave.

She trembled, but that worsened the ache in her arms. Fragments of memories sliced into her through the pain. Swords in the dark. Masked faces pouncing at her from three sides. Falchion quaking in her hand when she deflected blow after blow. And then, a dagger grazing her leg. She had felt the poison as it crept towards her chest; dizziness clouded her vision, her slashes came with half their speed, and her three attackers still stood.

Lucina's throat tightened. She had seen Ike fall. The magic wolf had taken him over the cliff. At some point, his voice had cut through the shadows from far away. But with the rattle of swords in her ears, and the poison stripping her of her senses, she had to have imagined it. Otherwise he wouldn't have abandoned her to this cold place. Whatever that place was.

Several moments or maybe days passed. Her boots scraped some ground; the contact gave off a muffled sound, the first sound that reached back to Lucina. She had to prove to herself that she wasn't dead. Otherwise she would float here, removed from time and space, until her remaining senses dulled and the consciousness known as Lucina ceased to exist. To prove to herself that she wasn't dead, she had to open her eyes.

So she did.

Her grave was made up of stone. Distant light from torches someplace behind her flickered across the rough surfaces. Her shadow flickered too, just barely part of this world. No sunlight entered here, and the stone blocks surrounded her on all sides, no more than three strides away in every direction. She couldn't reach them. Shackles around her wrists chained her to the ceiling, and a second pair of iron locked her feet in place. She could stand, but barely. When she tiptoed, the strain on her arms eased, and a grateful whimper escaped her chapped lips.

"So you've come back to us. I almost feared Jaffar had miscalculated the dose. He never knows how much poison suffices for meager little girls."

Lucina stiffened. She knew that voice; it had come from right behind her. But she couldn't twist her neck far enough to see, even when she threatened to dislocate her shoulder. Waves of pain washed through her, cascaded over one another. Barely holding onto consciousness, she sank in her chains.

Bootsteps closed in on her. Any second, any second they would drive a dagger into her back, and then this stone hole would truly be her grave. But the bootsteps circled around her, and Ursula came into view. The unreadable smile still twisted her lips, but this time, anticipation dug the smile a little deeper into her cheeks. She would enjoy this.

Ursula raised a gloved hand to Lucina's face. Between her fingers, she had trapped the Lightsphere. "Thank you for this, dear. I thought you would needlessly complicate matters by going after the dragon. You have caused me so many problems already. But in the end, everything worked out, and we should be grateful for that." She turned the Lightsphere between her fingers and basked in its brilliant white facets. "Wonderful these little stones, aren't they? Each contains power the likes of which a simple mage can only dream of. But enough of the chatter. Let us talk business."

Lucina moved her lips. She needed several attempts to produce words. "Where are we?"

Ursula tsked. "Wrong question, dear. In your current position, knowing your whereabouts would help you nothing, even if I were in the mood to tell you."

"What do you want from me?"

"Now, that's better. Pretty and smart, aren't you? It is quite simple. I want to know where you hid the other two spheres." Lucina opened her mouth, but Ursula silenced her denial. "Please, don't insult my intelligence. My spies have long since reported that the Binding Blade that returned to the Pheraen capital has appeared noticeably stone-less. It seems I have wasted my time in chasing after Rath. Well, we all make mistakes to learn from. Yours was to mention Naga's stones to Uther. At that point, I knew you had found the shield in your fortress. Linus, that bumbling oaf, made it all too easy for you. And since Rath was no longer in possession of the Lifesphere, it was natural to assume you had it. I wonder how you paid him for it."

Ursula's smile widened. "Pretty girls do have their methods, don't they?"

Lucina bit into the inside of her cheek. The less she said, the better. If Ursula continued to talk, she might slip a piece of information to help Lucina escape. Or at least reveal that key issue where Lucina could wrench her way out of this dungeon with a lie.

"I doubt you simply left the shield in the walls of your fortress," Ursula continued. "Not since my assassins have breached your patrols so easily. But you didn't have it with you. Linus may be an oaf, but even he knows how to search through saddlebags. Which leaves me with only one conclusion – but please do correct me if I'm wrong. You hid two of the spheres some time before we reached you. Now, you would do me a great service if you told me where you hid them."

"I left the shield at Uther's residence."

"Wrong, dear." Ursula forced Lucina's chin between her fingers. "I know for a fact it isn't there. Try again."

Lucina yanked her head out of Ursula's grasp. The chains rattled but didn't give way.

"Not the talkative type, are you? Well, we can change that." Ursula slid a Black Fang dagger out of a pouch in her dress. The ragged blade glistered.

"Torturing me won't make me talk," Lucina said and hoped the trembling only affected her tired arms, not her voice.

Ursula ran a fingertip across the dagger's edge. "Dear, I don't need you to talk. When your body weakens from exhaustion and hunger, your mental barriers will fall like paper soldiers in a cyclone. I will simply pluck the information out of your head. But we can use the meantime to get to know each other better. It's so much more fun this way, don't you think?"

Ursula pressed the cold metal against Lucina's cheek. "Now, where should we start?"

Ike ran all throughout the night and the majority of the next day. At first, he followed the three pairs of footprints in the snow. But they had brought horses up the mountain, and when another stormfront sent snow, he lost the trail. He kept running until he staggered, and he kept staggering until he stumbled, and even then, he dragged himself down the trail he had climbed with Lucina less than a day ago. He was chasing after hopes, but with every minute they were gaining ground, and his lips burned when he breathed.

They wouldn't have slit her throat and thrown her off a cliff. They had wanted her alive. She was still alive.

So Ike ran. To where, he couldn't say half the time. If he allowed thoughts to invade his mad rush down the mountain, he would falter, and he would see her shattered body between the rocks, and he would hear her voice mangled into screams. And for once, it wouldn't be his father's dead eyes staring up to unmoving spruce trees, it would be hers.

Ike ran faster, but he was running out of morning hours, and by now the Black Fang could have disappeared into their hideout at the end of the world. Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn Naga for pushing this journey onto Lucina, damn the mage who invented a spell to summon wolves, damn himself for being so weak and so slow.

He almost tripped headfirst into a pond on his way. Yesterday, Lucina had led her horse to drink here, she had smiled when she had stroked the dapple-gray fur, and it tore Ike to pieces.

Horses. Maybe they hadn't trotted all the way to Caelin yet. Ike wasted a precious lungful of air for a whistle. He tried again, a hundred steps farther down the mountain. He gave himself a headache, ran forward until the lack of air worsened so far that the trail blurred, and the trees danced around him and laughed at his failure.

Then, the sound of hooves reached him through his dizziness. He almost wanted to believe in the kindness of some unknown god when his horse and, a few paces behind, Lucina's stallion trotted towards him. His mare nudged him with her head when she reached him. Somehow, he climbed onto her back without falling.

One mouthful of conifer-laden air filled his lungs, and his headache retreated to a throbbing. The claw wounds on his arm had reopened, and warm blood made his grip on the reins slippery, he noticed that much. Then he gave chase, faster and faster, and the groves flew past.

Clarisse had mentioned a tower in the grasslands as a likely hideout for the Black Fang. He could reach the Ostella river in a few hours. If he didn't stop and drove his horse past its limits, he could make it. But make it to where? By himself, he would never find the tower in time.

The Black Fang had a reputation for more than slit throats. In the early days of the rebellion, when he had barely been tall enough to swing Ragnell, a minor Pheraen lord had provided them with steel and contacts. The man had resented Roy's bloody campaign against those who believed in Naga; a dumb, idealistic lord who had dreamed of chivalry. Of course Roy's lackeys had found out. But instead of a public trial, they had called the Black Fang to make him disappear.

When Ike had snuck into the lord's mansion months later with the hopes of easy steel to pocket for the rebellion, he had found a husk. Without a hair on his head and with sunken cheeks, the lord sat in a chair under a blanket thicker than he himself. He brabbled when Ike climbed through his window, and salvia ran down his chin. A spit bubbled popped. Popped like a hazelnut in a child's hand. The Black Fang had torn him to shreds and had stitched him back together in the ruins of his own body.

How long before they tore into Lucina? How long until she broke into a hundred glass splinters, beautiful and forever out of Ike's reach?

He had to find her first. No matter what it cost him.

Sweat drenched the flanks of his mare by the time Ike reached Caelin, and her legs trembled. Underneath the squeaking tavern shield with the brass horse, he jumped out of the saddle. He didn't stop to catch his breath before he stormed through the tavern door and to the table where Soren and Katarina hunched over a game of Imperial Blockade.

Soren looked up first. "Ike!"

But Ike didn't slow down, knocked into the table, and clutched the collar of Soren's mage robe. "I need your help."

"What happened to your arm? You look like you have walked all the way to death's door. Do me a favor and sit down for a moment, then I may—"

"You don't understand! It's her!"

Something in Ike's voice or the look on his face compelled Soren to listen. He nodded. "I see. Let us continue this conversation in private then. Katarina?"

The way up the stairs blurred into nothing in Ike's memory, and he couldn't tell whether Soren supported him with one of his arms slung over Soren's lean shoulders or if he stormed ahead of him and Katarina to barge into Clarisse's room. But he did remember shouting a question about the location of the tower into Clarisse's face before Soren shoved him onto a chair. His worried expression drifted in and out of focus as he turned Ike's head in search for injuries.

Ike grabbed Soren's wrist. "They took her."

It was his whispered plea of guilty and his final verdict. He had failed. She would pay for it.

"You might be suffering from a concussion," Soren said. "Please tell me you did not ride all the way from King's Plight in your state."

"They took her!"

"I heard you the first time. But you are the barely-living example of why we should not rush into action without care. If you can keep down even a sip of water, we will talk again."

Katarina's disembodied arm handed Soren a mug, who raised the water to Ike's lips. Ike coughed and spluttered, and his whole body cramped. Everything hurt, his head worst of all. But he forced himself to drink again, and this time, he swallowed the water. It tasted like spruce needles. Finally, the faces of Soren, Katarina, and Clarisse regained distinct shape in Ike's vision.

Clarisse bent closer, arms crossed. "Since the queen isn't with you, I assume you mean she is the one who got taken. Who was it?"

"The Black Fang." Ike retched. The words alone made him sick. "Where is their tower?"

"Ike, you need to rest." Soren did his best to bandage the cuts on Ike's arm while also preventing him from another jump-attack at Clarisse's face. "You will not help her by crippling yourself."

"If the Black Fang has taken Lucina prisoner, they must want something from her," Katarina said.

"I imagine a queen would promise a sizeable ransom for assassins. They will logically refrain from hurting her. Could you do me a favor and sit still for more than a second, Ike?"

Katarina shook her head. "Ransoms don't fit into Ursula's profile. She doesn't develop her strategy for the prospect of gold. It must be something more concrete. What else could they want from her? A specific information… yeah, I think that's likely."

"The spheres," Ike said.

It all made sense. When Jaffar had attacked Rath at the market, he hadn't tried to steal the Binding Blade itself. He had wanted the sphere previously attached to the sword. As far back as the two Black Fang brothers sneaking into the Glass Fortress, the guild had chased after the spheres. And except for Ike, only one other person knew of the hidden cavity in the shrine where the Binding Shield lay.

"They need Lucina to find Naga's spheres," Ike said. "That's why they took her."

Clarisse worked her jaw. "Then those spheres, or whatever they are, are as good as lost."

"I believe you are underestimating Lucina," Soren said. "She will not hand over the information easily, even when put under the strain of imprisonment."

"That's not the point. When Ursula wants something, she gets it. She knows how to worm into the minds of people. Why do you think it's so damn difficult to get out of the guild with your head still on your shoulders? Even the idea of deserting can get you killed. She knows magic to see people's thoughts and read them right out of their skulls."

"Such techniques were forbidden after the Wizard War."

"You think Ursula allows some mage code to stop her? She's beyond that. She's beyond all laws. That's what makes her so dangerous."

"If she can indeed pluck the information she desires out of Lucina's mind, she will have even less of an incentive to do her physical harm. Should we not take comfort in this?"

"You don't know Ursula." Katarina rubbed her arms, as if chilled by a memory. "For her, it is a game. Like Imperial Blockade. But it's not enough for her to win on one front, she wants to win on all fronts. Break the mind. Break the body. Everything to prove that she's in control."

Ike pushed Soren aside and climbed to his feet. "I have to get to Lucina."

"Are you even listening?" Clarisse asked. "It's pointless. By the time you reach her, Ursula will already know where your spheres are."

"I'm not leaving her in the hands of that witch!"

"Perhaps it will be wiser to ambush the Black Fang at the place where you hid the spheres," Soren said. "You will maximize your chances of success that way. I assume, if they are holding Lucina captive there, that their tower will be guarded by several guild members. Not even you can hope to prevail under such circumstances."

"You want me to just sit around and wait while they torture her? Not in this life." Ike's legs were still shaking, but he marched up to Clarisse, drew the Black Fang dagger, and held the blade to her throat.

"I won't ask again," he said. "Where is the tower?"

He didn't care about Soren's protests or the fire ball flaring over Katarina's hand. He didn't care about anything except the minutes that were slipping out of his hands, the minutes during which Lucina was at the mercy of Ursula, the minutes she might be screaming, bleeding, or worse.

"Even if I told you, you wouldn't find it." Clarisse didn't even flinch at the steel pressing against her throat. "It's in the middle of the grassland with nothing around it for miles."

"Then lead me towards it. I don't care how, but I'm getting to that tower."

A burst of wind erupted in Ike's face and knocked him backwards. Clarisse straightened herself, unharmed. Ike whirled around to Soren. Traitor.

"That's quite enough," Soren said. "You will kill yourself if you approach the Black Fang's hideout by yourself. Especially in your condition. And if you die, who will free Lucina when Ursula takes her towards the sphere's hiding place?"

"Come with me then."

Soren broke eye contact, his face tormented. "You promised not to ask me back to the battlefield."

"I'll never ask you for anything after this. But this is about her. Soren… please."

Soren wrapped his arms around himself. He slouched as though his leg injury had returned with a vengeance, and all the wind magic at his disposal had abandoned him with a breeze rushing outside.

Finally he returned Ike's gaze and forced a smiled. "Alright. Arguing with you would be hopeless after all."

"If you're going after the Black Fang, I want to come along." Katarina stepped next to Soren and propped her hands on her hips to make herself look taller. "I will take any chance to score a win against Ursula. It will be a good way to test my battle strategies too."

"Forget it."

Three heads turned towards Clarisse. The look on her face had been icy before, but now it was deepest murderous winter. Assassin or not she had that sternness of a leader no one wanted to mess with. No one who valued their life more than Ike did anyway.

"We survived this long because we didn't take needless risks," Clarisse said. "Helping some traveler in need is one thing, but this guy clearly has a death wish."

"Ike isn't going to breach the Black Fang's defense measures without our help," Katarina said. "I know how Ursula operates and where she will station her goons within the tower. I'm going."

"You're not."

"I can handle myself in a fight. My magic beats ninety percent of what Ursula's other recruits had to show at the time, and I have only improved since. You said it yourself, just three days ago!"

"That's exactly the point. Don't you get it? Ursula had you in her grasp once. She collects people with magic talents like trophies. And if they defy her or if they're no longer useful to her with a mind of their own, she breaks them and puts them on her pretty collection shelf. You would be doing her a mighty favor if you walked back to her doorsteps. She would pocket you, she would pocket Soren, and she would be laughing all the while. I'm not letting that happen."

"You can't force me to hide forever!"

"I can as long as I have two hands to tie you up for your own good."

Soren stepped forward to confront Clarisse. He kept his hands relaxed at his side, but his expression was every bit as firm as hers. "I cannot speak for Katarina," he said. "But I will go with Ike. Although I would leave more reassured if we parted on good terms."

"What about using magic for good things?" Clarisse asked. "Away from the battlefield."

"It is a novel idea. And I still do believe in what I said. Helping a friend and rescuing someone from the hands of a madwoman – I cannot think of a better cause for which to use my magic."

"You helped me out of Ursula's net," Katarina added. "I'd like to return the favor to someone."

Clarisse's eyes darted from Katarina to Soren and back. Her jaw hardened, but the affection for them fissured her resolve, melted it.

Ike spun the Black Fang dagger and held it out to her with the hilt first. "You said you'd be glad to see Ursula dead. This is your chance to do the job yourself."

Clarisse hesitated. She had fought hard to get out, and now a series of stupid happenstances pulled her back into the den of the she-wolf. She probably cursed the moment Ike and Lucina had washed up on the porch of Caelin's tavern by now. Three pairs of expectant eyes stared at her. And with a care so unlike the bloodlust of an assassin she took the dagger.

No ten minutes later, the staff of Caelin's stud farm flapped all across the estate. A stableboy shouted about that three of the best horses had been stolen. Confiscated, Ike corrected in his head while he galloped west towards the Black Fang's tower. Towards Lucina.

Lucina's arms trembled. Blood dripped down her bare elbows. Her sleeves had fallen off in tatters long ago. One hour, maybe two hours had passed since Ursula had left the dungeon. It felt like an eternity. An eternity of cold hopelessness to replace the eternity of cold dagger edges that had come before.

Ursula had asked about everything except the spheres. Every time when her voice invaded the silence of the cell, Lucina had feared that this would be the one time where the dreaded question came, that this would be the time where the words would tumble out of her mouth. But it never happened.

Ursula asked about the color of the tapestry in her childhood room – yellow, like daisies. She asked what Lucina had gotten for her sixth birthday– a pony, and Roy had lifted her into the saddle with a true smile. She asked about the first boy Lucina had kissed – a maid's son in Lycia's sunlit library, and their noses had bumped into each other, and he had reddened afterwards and ran away.

It didn't matter whether Lucina answered the questions truthfully or not. The memories snuck into her head, memories of sunlit libraries, of stories Roy told when he rocked her on his knees, of Frederick's oversized cape around her shoulders. And then, when the taste was sweetest, Ursula slashed the dagger across Lucina's skin, and the memory snapped. Those few precious moments, now forever tainted by her own blood, forever accompanied by the sound of chains rattling.

She hadn't screamed once. And that was the only comfort Lucina had while she waited for this eternity to end and the old one to return.

She liked to tell herself that she was prepared when the metal hinges of the door behind her squealed. But the cold sweat running down her neck proved otherwise. Bootsteps came closer. Any second Ursula would resume the game, and maybe this time, Lucina would pray for death. Maybe Naga would have mercy with her failed champion.

Instead of Ursula, Lloyd stepped in front of Lucina. He wore the guild's black coat. His gaze drifted from one cut to the next, following the torn skin of Lucina's arms until he stopped at her face.

"She always leaves the face intact," he said to himself. With an expression as impossible to read as his assassin mask, he lifted a waterskin to Lucina's lips. "Small gulps, alright?"

Maybe he had poured poison into the waterskin. Hopefully he had. Lucina opened her mouth and tasted plain, cool water. Lloyd helped her drink, but his eyes darted over her shoulder towards the cell door more than once.

"I'm not supposed to be here," he said and corked the waterskin.

Lucina's voice scratched in her throat when she used it. "Why did you rejoin the Black Fang?"

Lloyd didn't answer. But he didn't leave either.

"You despised Ursula. You feared her. Why return to her?"

"We drank up all my best wine after our little tango. I needed the gold."

"I don't believe you." Lucina's lips burned, but she forced herself to continue. "Ursula is using someone against you. Your brother, Linus…"

Lloyd huffed. "He may be the one who stumbled upon my hut one unholy evening, but if he's dumb enough to play nice by the witch, that's his problem, not mine."

"No, not your brother… your sister. You have a sister."

Lloyd's eyes widened. His fingers whitened around the waterskin. Only with difficulty did he regain control over his features. "I swear, you and the old hag match each other perfectly. You're both rummaging in the heads of other people like it's your damned playground."

"Tell me about her."

Lloyd turned away from Lucina. He addressed his words to the bricks and mortar of the grave. They at least knew to keep secret. "She's not my real sister," he said. "Adopted. Fourteen now. What do you expect from a girl her age? She still likes flower crowns, she dreams of horse riding but is too scared to do it – and she has a knack for magic. Can summon a firestorm into a room if she feels like it. I kept her away from the assassin business, and she wouldn't ask from where I got the gold to buy her a new cloak."

"Ursula found out about her."

"Of course she did. Can't say if it was Linus or I who let the thought roam when she was around. But Ursula found out about her and took her into her special care. Mages in training are her favorites. She used to keep an entire army of her little novices in the guild. When one of her other sweethearts cleared off, she kept my sister all the closer. Developing a new spell is tricky, you see? You might blow yourself up. Better to have other hands do the summoning."

Ursula wasn't merely skilled in the magic arts as Uther had said – she molded others to follow her teachings. Powerful mages the likes of which the Altean and even Pheraen army saw so rarely in their ranks. And the greatest of all spells raged across Ostia's fig groves in this very moment. Not quite the work of Grima, rather another figure in Ursula's game, lit to lure out the wielder of the Binding Blade. Plans inside other plans… The puzzle pieces clicked together, even if the final picture brought Lucina little joy.

"The firewall that is plaguing Sacae," she said. "Your sister is working the spell."

"She sure is." Lloyd's voice lacked emotions. Even the cold of the killer was missing. "Could make you proud to see how much bigger her firestorms have become. If the spell doesn't kill her, Ursula will, as soon as I think about ditching her crazy show."

"You could unchain me. We could defeat her together."

Lloyd laughed without humor. "Nice try. But in your state, you won't defeat anything."

"Then why did you come?"

"Good question. Guess I wanted to say hello to an old sparring partner. Or should I call this goodbye?"

Llyod freed the dagger from his belt. For a long moment, he studied the guild symbol on the hilt. "Back at the hut, you had all the cards in your hand. Your sword was at my throat." He raised the dagger to Lucina. "You had every opportunity and every reason to kill me. But you didn't. I thought it was stupidity. Naivety maybe. A mistake on your part. But it was also hard to forget."

He sent her a tired smile. The smile of a man who had known nothing but killing since he had stumbled into an assassin guild at the age of thirteen. And maybe back then the black coats and ragged daggers had been his ray of sunshine between the trees. His shelter in a storm.

Lucina caught Lloyd's eye and packaged all the sincerity she had left in her torn body into her voice. "I'm sorry about your sister."

"Her name's Nino. Now you can hate me. Shouldn't be hard for a noble." Lloyd twirled the dagger, a move practiced too many times, and slid it back in place. "After all, I traded the life of the Altean queen for that of some fourteen-year-old girl who's still into flower crowns."

Lucina's arms trembled. Somewhere above, a little beyond the confines of her grave, a noise like a thunderbolt rang out. Lloyd offered her the waterskin a final time.

"Tell her where the spheres are," he said. "Even if she doesn't ask."

"She won't stop if I do."

"No, she won't. But she might enjoy it less."

Lloyd left. And with him vanished the little bit of hope that Lucina might claw out of her grave and face Ursula with Falchion in her hand. Once queen of the world, once Naga's prophesized champion – now a dagger chipped away that which was Lucina. Piece by piece. And she couldn't even wipe the tear from her face.

When the cell door creaked and when Ursula returned, Lucina lacked the strength to jut her chin. She didn't want to see the smile on Ursula's face. A gloved finger followed the line of her cheekbone. It twirled a lock of her hair. She kept her eyes on the bloodstains on the floor and the boot tips there, unseeing.

"Isn't it ironic?" Ursula asked. "A woman of common birth and one with a bloodline worshipped for centuries – it took all of this for them to meet face to face."

Ursula yanked at the hair lock, ripped it out, and Lucina gasped. Strands of blue joined the blood on the floor.

"How did it feel to have all this power placed into your cradle?" Ursula's finger crept down Lucina's neck. "To have armies to command and to discard based on nothing but your name? To demand another's sword, loyalty, flesh, and thought with the knowledge that you would receive it because of a golden circlet on your head? The shoes of royals truly are exhilarating to walk in."

"What do you want?"

"Everything."

Ursula's thumb pressed into the sensitive skin below Lucina's collarbone, where her pulse fluttered frantically, inches from where Roy had once stabbed her with her own sword. She recoiled, but Ursula held tight.

"The spheres won't give you what you want," Lucina pressed out. "Only Naga can use them."

"Wrong, dear. Anyone who is willing to close their hand around one of the stones can use them. A peasant might find himself with magic capabilities that allow him to call thunder from the sky. And for someone who is already skillful in the magic arts, the results are quite astonishing." Ursula summoned a candleflame over her finger. The stench of burnt hair rose up, and Lucina turned her head as far as she could, but the small sips of water Lloyd had allowed her climbed her throat regardless.

"Power is a curious thing," Ursula said. "With animals, it is quite simple. The strongest creature rules at the top. No one has ever heard of a sheep controlling a wyvern. But humans invented this system called 'rulership by bloodline'. I'm sure you are a decent fencer. And so was your sweet knight friend. What was his name again?"

Frederick.

The dagger came down, and his face went up in a crimson flare of pain.

No scream. No matter what happened, Lucina wouldn't give Ursula her screams.

"But that pretty sword he had didn't do him any good," Ursula continued. "Against controlled magic, those given power by birth or by rank all fall. The Wizard War has shown it well enough. Oh, how those kings and lords trembled under their silk blankets at night. And now, the most powerful person of Altea flinches under my touch because you thought you lived in a world where sheep could rule over wyverns."

"Is that why you plotted to murder the queen of Pherae, Ninian? Is that why you murdered my mother?"

"Did Lloyd tell you that? Sometimes I think he is more trouble than he's worth. But an assassin with his talents and his lack of empathy towards a target is hard to come by. Ninian and Caeda were means to an end." Ursula leaned towards Lucina and lowered her voice to a whisper. "They were nothing special."

And when snapdragons flashed before Lucina's inner eye, and when Cordelia talked about Talys' love for Caeda, the dagger tasted flesh.

"Just like you are nothing special," Ursula whispered before she stepped back. "People always think magic is decided by talent. Of course, a certain aptitude helps. But to rise above mediocrity, a mage has to study, they have to practice and experiment with their own body on the line. The past is riddled with misfortunate novices who set themselves on fire. But I studied, I practiced and I experimented, and while everyone else thought I was the worm squished under the sheep's hooves, I had already grown past all of them. I am the wyvern."

"You are mad."

Ursula chuckled. A sound like iron scraping skin. "For the one who wears the crown, it's so easy to brand others as mad. To Eliwood, the people of Tellius were mad, so he built a wall to trap them in their land. To Roy, the followers of Naga were mad, so he executed a few and kept the rest under his heel. And it was easy for them. Because of this title people confuse with power."

Sometimes Ursula demanded answers. Other times, words led to more dagger slashes. Lucina never knew, she couldn't see a pattern, no strategy to make sense of, and that would be the main reason why she would soon slump into her chains and not raise her chin again. For the first time, she couldn't read the enemy. She could only hope that this time, Ursula wanted an excuse to keep boasting.

"If you are so powerful, why do you need the spheres?" Lucina asked.

"Have you heard the saying 'Too much of a good thing'?" Ursula grabbed Lucina by the hair and forced her to look. Her eyes overflowed with darkness. "I don't believe in it."

Ursula gently traced the throbbing vein on Lucina's neck with the dagger's point. "I have spent more than two decades in pursuit of Naga's spheres. Items with magic most people cannot even imagine – this would be the gamechanger. This would be a sort of power not even the kings of this world could ignore. It was simple enough to figure out that one sphere was bound to fall in Marth's possession and that Roy had another one in his sword. What easier way to obtain both than starting a war between Pherae and Altea? How tragic it would have been if the young prince of Pherae had died prematurely on the battlefield. Surely no one would have wasted a second thought to the sword he had with him if it went missing.

"That whelp ruined years of preparation. Not only did he have to survive, he buried Marth's sphere under those glass ruins and snatched up half the world. And he got away with it, all thanks to that golden circlet. Every week I had to grapple with the temptation of waltzing into his bedroom chamber and sliding this dagger over that whelp's throat. But I have learned to wait. The one sphere I did have offered enough to experiment with."

"Experiments?" Lucina echoed. "You are enslaving mages. Mages like yourself."

"Dear, your understanding of magic is so very naive. Power comes at a price. And true power comes at a price few are willing to pay. The stones are only half the answer. For a spell worthy of rivalling the gods, a spell to overpower even them, you offer something in return." Ursula led the dagger over Lucina's chest. "Your flesh. A heart. A soul, if you believe in such a thing." The dagger pressed down. "That's the price for a miracle."

The price for a miracle. Willingly given.

"The firewall." Lucina tried to keep her voice even, but she still choked on her words. "Is that your miracle for Archanea?"

"A true sight, isn't it? All these peace-spoiled farmers finally remember the taste of fear. People get so very complacent when there's no army from another kingdom brandishing spears. They forget how frail their skin is. But not you. You know better now." Ursula twisted the dagger into Lucina's shoulder until it drew blood. A thin stream dripped down her side.

"All that—" A tremor shook Lucina. "—just to lure Rath out to Sacae."

Ursula twisted the knife further. "Very good, dear. You're beginning to understand." One turn. Two turns. The taste of iron on Lucina's lips. "I only needed to put the right word in Uther's ear, and he reminded Rath at every turn how Roy used his sword to control fire. And what else could the novice king do but bring the sword right to the altar? How easily these royals despair in the face of true power."

The dagger retreated. If Ursula had told Lucina this brief moment of painlessness was the eternal paradise, she would have believed her. In this grave, Ursula was the only goddess. Worst of all, she was right. Lucina had crown and title, she had enjoyed an unmatched fencing tutelage, she had Naga's blessing – and here, it mattered nothing. Naga had forsaken her. And what was Lucina without a crown and title, without her sword skills and without Naga's light to guide her forward, when even her memories were washed away in pain? She was nothing.

Give up all earthly attachments.

It would be easy now.

With all the people who mattered to her dead and gone, it would be easy. She could only hope that Soren or someone else would retrieve Ike's body and light a pyre for him. He should not stay there on the mountain, forgotten. Lucina soon would not exist to remember him.

Give up all earthly attachments. And in the cold of Ursula's domain, she gave him up too.

Sêl had been wrong. It wasn't light Lucina would vanish into. Her grave was a dark one.

Ursula slapped her. "Now, dear. It's not time for you to lose consciousness yet. You still have a few thoughts for me. Now that we are so well acquainted, you won't mind me digging around a little, will you?"

Her fingers pressed like a wrench around Lucina's forehead, thumb and little finger squeezing her temples. Lucina expected pain. She expected to feel something when Ursula ripped the last bits of her self away, a final uproar of her memories maybe, but there were only the fingers pressing against her skin.

Ursula's breath became uneven. She panted.

Then, the pressure snapped away, and Ursula stepped back. For the first time, the unreadable smile had faded from her face. She looked as though a magic storm of her own creation had tossed her to her knees.

"You have a curious mind," she said and whetted her lips. "This is… unexpected. But I guess it all makes sense. Oh, the irony. So close and still another obstacle. But that won't deter us, will it? I can wait."

Ursula readjusted her grip on her dagger twice. The smile returned, at first shaky, but then the self-confidence drove her back towards the little sheep in her grasp. This time, the fingers didn't stop their invasion at Lucina's collarbone. Gentle, like the last lover she would ever have, the dagger caressed her neck.

"Let's try this again, shall we?"

The old eternity returned with the memory of the flowing Ls in Marth's letter and a slash. Only the chains kept Lucina upright. It would be a shorter eternity this time.

An eternity must have passed before they reached their goal. Scorched grass surrounded the tower. Its stench still poisoned the air, burned in Ike's nose, but he paid it no mind as ash stirred under the hooves of his horse. No wonder the Sacaen tribes avoided the tower. The assortment of unnaturally smooth bricks rose three hundred feet from the landscape like an obsidian snake, ready to snap at everyone who dared to come close. Lucina had to be here. She had to.

Clarisse slowed her horse into a wary trot when they entered the tower's shadow. Katarina, who was sitting in front of Clarisse, squinted and dissected the area for weak spots, cover options. Ike wouldn't wait for them. The concussion still throbbed in his skull, and a few times he had almost slipped out of his saddle. But he still had enough strength to hold Ragnell, and that would have to suffice.

Although the summer heat still blanketed Sacae, the tower radiated black cold, and the hairs on his arms stood up. Only a creature as insane as Ursula would set up their hideout here.

He had prepared himself for a desperate charge against the front gates, they even had worked out a plan for Soren and Katarina to use magic and blast the portcullis right out of its socket. Arrows from the slit windows above would have sent one of them to the ground in a bloodstained pile for sure, no matter how well Clarisse handled her own bow. But the archway into the tower stood open. Eerie silence rang from the yard beyond. Probably a trap.

Ike jumped from his horse and marched forward.

"Hey, that wasn't part of the strategy!" Katarina said, but Ike ignored her.

Not too long ago, other horses had stirred the ground under his boots. Whether they had entered the tower or had ridden out of its horrid belly, he couldn't tell.

Ragnell's golden steel gleamed when he advanced. Three other pairs of feet clacked on the cobble behind him. And Ike for once felt reassured by the sound. Before, he had hurled himself at every opportunity to take on a mission alone; raid an imperial steel caravan, silence a Pheraen lord if he talked too much, run headfirst into the crossfire. If feasible, he would have fought the entire damn rebellion by himself. One way or another, he had chased death. But this wasn't about him. If he died on his way through the tower, someone else had to make it to Lucina.

Ike collected a nod from Soren and pushed on. They would all do their part.

Dim light seeped into the yard from above. The tower was hollow at its center, and far above, Ike caught a glimpse of the fire-tinted sky. Narrow walkways crisscrossed overhead, connections to bridge the tower's hole in the upper floors – they offered countless opportunities for an ambush. A mere handful of archers positioned on these walkways could riddle an entire troop should its commander fall victim to the dumb idea of storming the yard.

Ike did storm the yard, but his echoing steps failed to summon the clatter of arrows on the cobblestone.

A set of open stairs on the left climbed towards a walkway on the second floor. On the opposite end of the yard, a doorway led deeper into the tower.

"Where would Ursula keep a prisoner?" Ike asked. "At the top or in the vaults below?"

Clarisse freed an arrow from her quiver. "The top. It's far more difficult to storm. She has her own quarters there, and with a hostage of Lucina's caliber, she would want to keep her close."

"I don't know." Katarina tugged at her shawl, uneasy. "Ursula wants others to submit. To make them feel powerless and beneath her. She would use the dungeons below the tower, if there are any. Elevating someone to her personal chambers doesn't fit her profile."

"We don't have time for this," Ike said. "We split up."

"I would highly advise against such a plan." Soren's eyes darted across the bridges, narrow windows, and all the other corners where assassins might hide.

Ike ignored him and turned to Clarisse. "You've been here before?"

"Only once. Most of my commissions focused on Altea."

"That's good enough." Ike only took a second to decide. "Get me to the top."

"If you are expecting to fight a mage of Ursula's caliber, should I not accompany you?" Soren asked.

"You go and look through the dungeon with Katarina. You'll meet less resistance there."

Katarina scowled. "You're willingly choosing the more dangerous option for yourself? It's a wonder you've gotten as old as you have."

Ike gave an unintelligible huff. The squandered seconds piled up, and if Ragnell didn't find an assassin's torso to split soon, he would snap. Good luck wishes would have wasted air, and so he rushed towards the stairs with the briefest of nods. Clarisse secured his rear on lighter steps.

The stairs followed the inward bend of the tower, winding upwards. No one sounded alarm. And no arrowheads glistered in the windows either. On the first bridge, Ike picked up speed. Adrenalin and this nasty thing called hope washed away his headache. Each stride along the obsidian tiles brought him closer to Lucina. He had arrived too late at Uther's residence to stand with her and Frederick. But not this time. Please, not this time.

From the bridge, Ike ran into the dimness of the tower. Too many tons of bricks weighed above him, too many floors between him and the top. Clarisse pointed him to the right. At the end of the hallway cowered another set of stairs.

And there he ran into the first assassin.

The boy clutched a book to his chest, and with a dull look he raised a hand. The haziness of his eyes was deeper than with the mage at the marketplace, far more unsettling. He moved on someone else's strings and recited a litany someone else had put in his mouth. He couldn't be older than Katarina. But he carried a Black Fang dagger at his belt like a trophy, and for that he died.

"Ike, wait!"

Clarisse's warning came too late. The fireball had just begun to blossom above the boy's hand when Ragnell first sliced through the hand and then the boy himself. For a moment, a spark of awareness flickered in his eyes. Then he slumped down the stairs and repainted the floor in a bright red.

When his head crashed down, it sprung the trap.

Arrows whirred from the other side of the hole. Ike didn't care that they flew without proper organization or that the first shots missed him by several yards as though the marksmen had scrambled for their weapons in a hurry. Down the hallway rang alarmed shouts, and a magical breeze snuffed out several torches.

Ike hurried up the steps. Clarisse would cover his back.

Lucina would have to hold out just a few minutes longer.

Ike cut through anyone between him and the top. The blood of young mages dripped down the walls. An archer screamed when Ike shoved her from a bridge several floors up, but he already had cut through her partner before the cobblestone below silenced her scream. Good if these assassins fumbled with their weapons. Better if they stumbled over their feet. No one could escape.

Clarisse's arrows covered him only at half-hearted intervals, but that didn't matter.

The bitterness over the fights he had lost against Roy vanished. The taste of spruce needles from the day his father had died finally died with him. Ike drowned it all in blood.

He didn't need Naga's spheres or even Ragnell's blue light. Here he stood above them all, a violent storm of gold to tear apart all obstacles. If he had already cut down Lloyd or Linus on his way, he wouldn't have noticed. He didn't fight faces or names, he waded through a sludge of bodies while he climbed.

And once he reached the top, it would have all been worth it.

The final bridge stretched in front of him. A door of heavy oak wood stood on the other side. The moans and whimpers of the dying didn't slow Ike, and neither did the door. One kick of his, and the lock broke. The dimness of the room beyond swallowed him.

She wasn't there.

A fire crackled on the far side and illuminated the ghostly armrests of chairs scattered about. An entire library of ancient tomes dominated the wall to the left, and Clarisse, who entered the room behind Ike, sucked in a breath. Golden cups and glass apparatus rested on the shelves, and gemstones in every imaginable color piled up. Ursula's treasury would make a number of Pheraen lords blush in embarrassment, and no doubt did every piece on the shelves forward her twisted games, another method to harm, maim, and break. But Lucina wasn't here.

Instead, a girl of maybe fourteen sat cross-legged in front of the fire. If not for the purple mage cape cascading around her small figure, she could have been plucked from some Altean city street; a girl with a headband in her short hair Ike wouldn't look at twice. A clever strategy. She had closed her eyes, and one hand hovered over a book in her lap. From the purple stone embedded into the cover, a throbbing glow tainted her face.

Another one of Ursula's fanatics. Ike had seen enough.

"Where is she?" he yelled as he marched towards the girl. "Where is Lucina?"

A jolt went through the girl. Her eyelids fluttered as though the shackles of a long slumber fell from her. "Lloyd?" she mumbled.

Then the furious noise of Ike's steps broke through her trance, and her eyes widened. The book with the stone slipped to the ground when she scrambled towards the fireplace.

"I promised I would behave!" She shook her head violently. The flames already danced with the hem of her cape, and in one more move she would step into the coals. "I will never disobey again, I promise. I just want to go home!"

One hell of a clever strategy. The girl could almost fool Ike with the act she played.

"Wait, that's—" Clarisse's words blurred.

He wasn't too late. He could still make it to her, a few precious minutes hadn't yet slipped through his fingers.

"Where is Lucina?" Ike grabbed the girl by the arm. "Where is Ursula keeping her?"

Her wide eyes stared right through him without recognition. As though she saw the room and him through a barrier of ceaseless fire, the fire that consumed Sacae, the fire tasting the air inches away from her hand.

The girl let out a scream. And at once, the flames shot past her and towards Ike.

He let go of her arm, stumbled backwards. The heat struck his face, slapped him back to reality. Had the blood always dripped so loudly from Ragnell? And the cries for mercy, why did they reach him just now? When everyone downstairs had already fallen, harmed, maimed, and broken.

But Lucina wasn't here. And if Ike didn't learn her whereabouts from this girl, they would have died for nothing.

The girl rushed towards the door, and flames whipped across the room, burned the air.

Clarisse blocked the door, but she hesitated to aim an arrow. "Nino, stop! It's me, don't you remember? We don't want—"

A burst of wind knocked her into the bookshelf, and brilliant gemstones rolled across the floor, each refracting the orange fire. The door flew open, and the girl rushed through. Ike pursued her.

He was faster, and although the heat ate into his skin and made him choke, he gained on her. His shadow, cast by the firestorm behind them, overtook her. She wouldn't make it to the other side of the bridge.

She looked over her shoulder, eyes wide with fear, with mania. The blood of her fellow assassins drenched Ike's tunic, it ran down the blade with which he could tear her apart like petals torn from a daisy. But he needed to know where they were keeping Lucina; every second wasted was one second too much.

He grabbed the girl by her cape.

She screamed, stumbled backwards. But the bridge ended there. They both realized it a second too late.

The cape slipped out of Ike's bloodstained grasp. All roaring of fire hushed, and even the ashen smell of Sacae's grassland disappeared as she fell. He slid forward, reached down, but his fingers only caught air.

Silence.

Even the throbbing in his head ceased.

Her crushed body sprawled on a walkway several dozen feet below. The cape pillowed the thin, white limbs. Nino's blank eyes stared up into a blue sky.

There would be no rain in Sacae today. It wasn't needed.

The fire had gone out.

Ike retched. Instead of his head trauma, the faces of all the dead assassins below pressed against his skull. He had killed before, countless times, they didn't deserve better for what they had done to Lucina, it had felt right to drive Ragnell into them; he repeated these phrases until he believed them. Without another look down, he walked back into Ursula's chamber. He moved without thought. Soot remined of the fireplace's crackling from a mere moments ago, but the light from the door bounced from the polished tiles. Clarisse was struggling back to her feet, but Ike didn't wait for her.

On the floor lay the abandoned spell book. The stone in its cover no longer glowed, but in its purple depths swirled shadows, like a starless night condensed into a gem the size of a dove egg. Ike had seen Lucina's fingers follow the shapes of Naga's spheres too often to miss the signs.

He ripped the Darksphere out of the book and pocketed it. Four out of five. Naga's task neared its end.

He felt no sense of triumph.

Clarisse swallowed all questions regarding Nino when she followed Ike on the long way down the tower. The answer was likely plastered all over his face. By now Soren and Katarina had to have searched the dungeons. As soon as Ike reached the yard, Lucina would wait for him, and although tired, she would offer him one of her spell-binding smiles and reassure that she was okay. He would confess all the people he had killed to reach her, and she would answer with that particular look to make him feel guilty. And he would welcome it.

Ike met Soren and Katarina halfway down the last flight of stairs. They walked alone.

Ike couldn't bring the question over his lips. He just stared at Soren, too numb to read his expression, refusing to even try.

Soren stretched out his hand, in which lay a lock of long, indigo-colored hair.

Notes: Longest and perhaps most tense chapter yet, and rereading it, I feel a little breathless. I take that as a good sign. I have written my fair share of villains before, not just for this series, but I think Ursula set a new record in terms of disturbing. Heaven, there's some dark stuff in this chapter. But I'm curious to hear your opinion on her. Too cartoonishly evil with all her monologues or just the right amount of terrifying?

In the next chapter, daggers will meet daggers, and when some cut themselves free, others must break.