Laurent

The chill of the mountains in western Ferox made for a wonderful place to curl up with a book. The whistle of the wind was muted due to the thinner air that had coalesced around the jagged peaks like a haze. It was a shield against the outside world, leaving the ruined land forgotten by most. A remnant of Feroxi past, one best left forgotten.

Laurent had set up camp outside a cave entrance that had been carved out some time ago; a secret passage into the depths of the mountain. The young mage sat on a nearby rock, holding a frayed old book in his hands. Hunched over and squinting his eyes, he rapidly consumed sentence after sentence with only the aid of foggy light despite it being mid-day.

The book had consumed most of his past week of waiting. It was an informative theorem on magic; much like those written by his parents. A relic that he would never have found in the ruined future. It contained a general map of some of the ruins of Khadein from an intelligent and perhaps too ambitious of a scholar.

It is a shame so little was available by the time I was able to read. Laurent turned another page. Though I must admit it is slightly underwhelming. Perhaps I was spoiled in reading Father and Mothers' tomes.

A high-pitched sound began to ride on the wind, echoing up the mountainside. Unlike the conforming and gentle breeze, the new sound pierced the serenity with the subtlety of a hammer.

Laurent smiled and turned another page. It would seem Severa followed my directions correctly. Hopefully, she managed to collect some of the others.

The grumbling soon was accompanied by plodding footsteps, though Laurent didn't look up to check. He was nearly finished with the chapter, and greeting his friends could wait a moment. The dark bowels of Khadein would give them plenty of time to talk.

"You!" A shrill and scathing voice cried out.

Laurent blinked and turned the page. She could be talking to me, but does it really merit a response? It wasn't even a proper question.

The sounds of stomping encroached on Laurent's position and suddenly he felt the book ripped from his grasp. His lips formed a thin line and he adjusted his glasses as he looked up at the newcomer.

"Do you mind, Severa? I was nearly finished." Laurent held out his hand. "I'd appreciate it if you returned my research materials."

Severa, the woman with fire-red twin tails and an expression of utter disgust glared at the unimpressed mage. She was dressed in studded leather armor, a steel longsword strapped to her waist, and plated boots. She clenched Laurent's book, slightly bending the cover.

"That's all you have to say!? 'Return my book please'. Gawd!" Severa chucked the book into Laurent's chest, who clumsily caught it and immediately inspected the integrity of the worn pages. Severa crossed her arms and spat on the ground. "You call me all the way out into the middle of nowhere while rounding up the others like your damn messenger girl. Do you know how long it took to hike to this damn rock?"

"Should have been about two weeks," Laurent confirmed with a matter-of-fact tone. "Did the weather impede you? I figured summer would have been a fortuitous time to delve into the ruins."

Severa stared for a moment at the mage before groaning. "Of course you would say that—"

"Are you well, Severa?"

The warrior blinked and took a step back. "Uh, I guess? Cold as heck, but I'm fine." She narrowed her eyes. "Is there a point to this? You never ask those questions."

Laurent shrugged and stood up from his seat. "Figured it was the part of the conversation requiring common courtesy."

"You almost had me," Severa whispered under her breath. "Whatever. So, what's in the hole?" She pointed toward the darkened cave entrance. "Something that's actually going to help us beat Grima, or is this another little experiment of yours?"

"It's part of my father's original plan. Inside is a component of what we will need," Laurent paused; the corners of his lips upturned, "the Firestone."

Severa whistled in a low, patronizing tone. "Another magical rock. Fantastic."

More chattering echoed up the mountainside path, and Laurent peered around Severa. So she did manage to find more of the others. Excellent. He couldn't help but smile. It didn't matter if she understood the importance of his father's plans. Being cooperative was enough for him.

Laurent's eyes widened slightly as he watched a few huffing and puffing figures clamber up the bend of the path. Leading the way, using his sheath as an improvised walking stick, was Owain. Close behind him followed Cynthia, a sprightly knight with large, rusted lucerne strapped to her back. Pulling up the rear was Brady, the cloaked cleric with a prominent frown upon his face who was using his healing staff as a walking stick, his hands shaking and teeth chattering.

Not everyone, but certainly enough.

"Greetings my bespectacled friend!" Owain triumphantly said. He raced over to Laurent and pulled him into a tight hug, a wide grin spread across his face. "It is quite good to see you in one piece!"

"And you as well, Owain," Laurent cordially replied, pushing against Owain's shoulders to give himself space. He looked toward Brady and Cynthia, who both had taken a seat on the ground. "Do you both need to rest?"

"No," Brady sharply replied, "I'm just sitting on the ground cause I love dirt so much!" He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "Jeez, whaddya think?"

Cynthia fidgeted her legs and gave a thumbs up. "I'm ready when you are!" she said in a sweet tone that was faintly reminiscent of her father's country accent. "We're here to help, and you can count on us!"

Severa snorted. "Yeah, what Cynthia said." She gave Laurent a pointed look. "You sure this is going to work?"

Laurent pulled out a rolled-up paper from an inner robe pocket. and scanned the hastily sketched notes and let out a soft breath.

Father's last notes. We won't fail. It's on us now.

"It will work. We stick to the plan and find what we need from Khadein. We have to trust the others are doing their part."

"Because that last conversation went so well," Severa snidely added. "Lucina not being here is a problem. Have you figured out where Morgan is?"

"No, but I have my theories," Laurent said in a thoughtful tone. "She's driven, but easily distracted. I can only hope that she finds the necessary information over there and not let personal animosity dictate her decision-making."

"You mean Sonya," Brady added, shaking his head. "Those two nearly tore each other apart. Lucina did nothing." He spat on the ground and looked up at Laurent with disappointment. "And you just watched too, Laurent. Jeez. I barely patched up Morgan..."

Cynthia's lips remained tight and she stared at her knees, content to stay out of the argument. Owain looked off in the distance with a face scrunched up, deep in thought. I do wonder how long he has practiced that pose, Laurent mused as he rubbed his chin. Everything went smoothly until we arrived in the past. It wasn't until our personal goals deviated from the original plan.

"It's not comforting to know Lucina is off doing whatever." Severa took a few steps toward the cave entrance. "Can we just get this over with? I'd like to at some point actually meet my father and not go dungeon diving with you all." Severa paused and flashed a weak smile at Cynthia. "You're fine though."

"Love you too, Severa!" Cynthia squealed. A faint redness appeared on Severa's cheeks, and she turned away. "I'm ready to go when everyone else is!"

Owain drew his blade and pointed it at the sky. "For the future of the world, the glory of our ancestors, and our impeccable honor." He whipped around and struck a pose with his free hand covering his face. "You all can depend on my blade for the events to come!"

"Excellent," Laurent announced. He took a few steps toward the cave, brushing past Severa who refused to budge. He looked back and smiled. "Thank you for trusting in my father. In me. We shall make this right and find the others once again. The fight has just begun."

Laurent withdrew a tome from his deep robe pockets and cast a small ball of fire, illuminating the darkness. Brady grumbled but managed to get to his feet and follow the rest of the group into the ruins of Khadein. The group remained huddled together near Laurent's light as they entered the tomb of a civilization buried underneath the stone.

"Wait for me!" A strained voice called out.

Laurent and the group turned around, the mage raising the ball of fire as they stopped at the mouth of the cave. A man with light brown hair dressed in white and black leathers had scurried to the top of the mountainside; his face red as a tomato.

So Inigo managed to arrive as well. Severa groaned and kicked at the ground, mumbling something about her certainty in losing him in the last village. Laurent waved to his comrade and beckoned him toward the cave. Another friendly face is welcome, indeed. Our chances of success have just gone up.

Lucina

I finally found you.

Lucina crouched on the window sill of the fifth floor to Castle Ylisse, peering inside to an abandoned storage room. Except, there was a small mattress in the corner of the room that a lump covered in sheets slept in. The door to the hallway was barricaded with all manner of old furniture, complete with a sheet stuffed into the bottom of the door to seal off any scent.

"Of all the places to hide," Lucina bemoaned quietly, "it would be his old hiding spot."

Lucina held in a groan. It was so typical of Yarne to bail at the first sign of trouble. His capability as a fighter was often undermined by his consistent self-sabotage and intrinsic fear. Where Yarne had receded into himself when their parents had passed away, Lucina instead used the experience to galvanize herself. People needed someone to toe the line and listen to reason.

Time for a little reunion, brother. Lucina pushed open the large frame window and slipped easily through the crack. Small streaks of light passed by her as she touched down on the old floorboards with practiced grace. She wrinkled her nose and removed the facemask, revealing tired eyes and a face flecked with dirt.

Lucina sniffed the stale air with mild disdain as she hooked the mask around her belt. She ran a hand through her messy and poofy blue hair, feeling for the taguel ears upon her head that she normally kept buried. She'd passed for human enough throughout her life that nobody tended to ask if she made her hair a bit more scraggly and kept her armor on. It was easier than dealing with the stares that Yarne usually drew since they were children.

Everyone but mother and father preferred it. Yet, they're gone now. Lucina looked toward the barricaded door and then shook her head. No. I shouldn't engage. If anybody is to uphold the pact, it shall be me.

The lump in the bed rose and fell in a steady rhythm as Lucina tiptoed forward. To wake Yarne was a tricky task. He was prone to night terrors ever since he was little and Lucina had discovered few ways to soothe his nerves.

But those methods could wait.

Lucina pounced on the slumbering form and immediately began to grapple the top part, feeling for a mouth to cover. A small yelp escaped from Yarne's mouth as Lucina held the sheet over his head and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Calm down, Yarne it's me," Lucina said calmly. She tightened her grip as she felt Yarne struggle more ferociously than before, nearly bucking her off as he kicked at the floor with his powerful legs. "Stop it. You're making too much noise!"

"You...are...choking me!"

"If I let go will you be quiet?" Lucina whispered.

The blobby head shape in the sheet bobbed up and down twice, and Lucina released her grip. Yarne threw off the cover, looking at Lucina with a furrowed brow and a twisted frown.

"Why did you do that?!"

Lucina put a finger to her lips. "Quiet! We're still in the castle!"

Yarne's ears drooped. "Right. Sorry." He paused and rubbed his chin, a look of curiosity blooming across his face as he sat up straighter. "But Lucy, how'd you find me?"

"You always came here when you were stressed as a kid." Lucina shrugged. "Knowing how things were last time people gathered, I eventually figured it was worth checking out."

Yarne crossed his arms. "You shouldn't have come. I had this place all secure before you came inside like some bandit. I thought I was going to die!"

"You always think that, Yarne."

"And I've yet to be proven wrong!" Yarne lamented, falling back down on his makeshift bed. "The world is out to get us, Lucy. Might as well find a good place to take cover as the storm comes in. We are the last of the taguel! We need to be careful!"

Lucina felt her temper building, but let go with a deep breath. "And then what? What's the point in hiding and being safe from danger if we have the power to make a difference? It's negligent to stand by. It's our duty, because, unlike others, we can choose."

"That's what I'm doing, Lucy. Choosing. Because our talks went so well last time." Yarne's voice sounded lost and distant as he turned his head. "I don't know, Lucina. All I know is everything in our lives has ended in tragedy, and I don't see an end to that."

Lucina's fists balled up and she felt her ears twinge. Yarne wasn't budging; something rare for her brother who usually caved in at the first sign of resistance.

"Yarne, please work with me. You are a taguel, Ylissean royalty, and bear the mark of the Exalt on your leg. If you refuse to meet the challenge, then who will?" Lucina felt her lip quiver and bit down immediately. "I-I couldn't get to Emmeryn in time, you know. I'm trying so hard, but I feel lost too."

"You do?"

Lucina nodded. "Yeah. I do. I'm not always sure. Most of the time not really sure at all." She ran her hand over the cold hilt of Parallel Falchion. "But I don't want to do it alone. If I'm to be lost, I want to be lost with someone I can trust by my side."

Yarne shook his head, but Lucina saw a smile on his lips. "I don't like this," Yarne choked out. He stretched out his arms and yawned. "But, I suppose there are worse things than following your lead. Besides, we make a good team. Just like old times?"

"Just like old times." Lucina beamed and offered her brother her hand. He clenched it and grinned back at her. "Now we can-"

The door buckled, slamming against the makeshift barricade of old dressers and boxes. Lucina's heart nearly leapt into her stomach as she released Yarne's hand and turned to face the intruders.

"It seems to be jammed, Lady Panne," Frederick's voice echoed out from the crack in the door.

"I smelled taguel on the grounds, manspawn. It led here. Open the door."

Mother.

Yarne's hand gripped Lucina's shoulder. "Lucy, we should go-"

The dresser propped up against the door fell over as a loud snap erupted from the wooden door. The chair Yarne had placed underneath the doorknob snapped in half as the door opened to about three-quarters of the way open. Lucina found herself petrified as Panne stepped into the storage room, her head held high and ears slightly perked up. She sniffed the air for a moment, and then her gaze drew over to the two younger taguel who were frozen like statues.

This isn't good. Why'd you have to hide at home, Yarne?

Panne's mouth opened for a moment then closed. Then opened again as her gaze darted back and forth between Lucina and Yarne. Another board creaked as the armored knight, Frederick entered the room.

Lucina's throat suddenly felt like she'd swallowed all the sand in Plegia, her mouth opening but no words coming out. Frederick's keen gaze also settled on the taguel children and cleared his voice.

"What is the meaning-"

Frederick didn't finish as Panne launched the knight off his feet with a powerful and blindly fast sidekick. He stumbled backward and a dull thud boomed out as he collided with the wall on the opposite side of the hallway.

Panne's hands shook as she pointed at Frederick, baring her teeth. "You filthy human!"

Oh no, mother's going to transform. A weakness had settled into Lucina's legs. She'd dreaded facing her mother again for the fury that she could conjure up in an instant. The way she told them how important they were not just as her children but to the taguel race was a heavy burden at a young age. And now she just found two taguel she doesn't recognize inside father's castle. This is bad.

"Wait!" Yarne stood up and rushed past Lucina. Panne turned her head; teeth clenched and a wild look in her eyes.

Panne reared back as Yarne charged her, ready to absorb the blow. Lucina smiled as she watched her brother instead wrap his arms around Panne and begin to weep. The sobs were sporadic and messy, Panne's panicked expression locked in on Lucina as she gently embraced Yarne into the hug, her face scrunched as if still searching for an answer.

We missed you.

"I missed you so much," Yarne continued to hold on, though he gathered his wits. "I don't remember the last time we did this…"

Panne tilted her head and looked toward Yarne. "We? You smell of-"

"I'm your son from the future. Please don't be mad," Yarne quickly rambled off.

Lucina facepalmed. Really, Yarne? So much for the pact.

A groan came from the hallway, snapping Lucina out of her stupor. She bounded past her kin and raced into the hall to help Frederick to his feet. His grand armor had a deep dent in the ribcage and the wall had cracked in several places where he had slammed into. The fact that he was still lucid was a testament to his rigorous training and attitude.

"Here, let me help you," Lucina said, offering an arm. "Mo—Panne can be quite dangerous when startled."

Frederick took the friendly hand, but instead of helping himself up, he pulled Lucina down to his eye level. "Who are you?" His face tightened. "You have the mark of the Exalt in your left eye. Speak at once."

Lucina swallowed. Even though she'd lived several years under Frederick's tutelage, she always felt a bit smaller in his presence. "You probably remember me as Marth...well, you can probably see that's not true. My name is Lucina, and—"

"And you're part taguel."

"Yes," Lucina confirmed, "I am also a taguel. Is there a way we could speak with Chrom about this? I think it would be best."

"For security, I must decline such and insist that you be detained for the time being." Frederick stood up to his full height and brushed off the rubble from his armor. "This is most unusual and suspicious, so I shall escort you to the dungeon until—"

"We will see my mate, manspawn," Panne warned in a dark tone. She had separated from Yarne and entered the hallway where she looked up at Frederick with a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "They are taguel and smell like me. We shall go to Chrom now, and they are to stay by me."

Frederick held a steady gaze with Panne for several moments before letting out a heavy sigh. "Very well. We shall go see our Exalt and sort out this mess."

"Will Robin be there?" Lucina asked, a hint of concern as she let the words linger for a moment. "Where is your chief tactician?"

"The strange manspawn left," Panne interjected, much to the dismay of Frederick's slowly reddening face. "To that place of Valm."

Lucina's blood turned to ice. What? Impossible. The Valm invasion isn't supposed to happen for at least another year or so. Someone must've interfered. But who?

"Lucy?" Yarne asked, sticking near his mother's side. "You alright? Looked like you saw a ghost."

Lucina shook her head. "It's nothing. Just...yes, it's nothing at all. Let's carry on, shall we?"

"Indeed," Frederick replied. He took the lead down the hallway, his posture a bit more stiff than usual. "Also, forgive me for commenting, Lady Panne, but please refrain from extraneous exercise in your condition."

"Condition?" Yarne quirked a brow. "But wouldn't that mean…"

Panne turned to him and gave him a small smile. "Soon there will be more taguel. Very soon."

And yet she hardly steals a glance at me. Lucina trudged alongside Frederick as Yarne soaked up his mother's attention and answered her questions as best he could. A small aching feeling built up in her chest as she tried not to look toward Panne. Just like old times, Yarne. Just like old times.

Gerome

The wheels of the rickety carriage jostled Gerome a bit in his seat. The mountains north of Wyvern Valley that led to Fort Stieger were a remnant from the old Zofian dynasties before King Alm and hadn't been replaced or improved since. It had put him in a foul and twisted mood, though that was hardly a deviation from the norm.

Across from him in the carriage sat his confidant, Sonya, who had a tome splayed out across her thighs and was gently flipping through the pages with her carefully manicured nails. She'd foregone the gaudy dress she'd worn at the ball in Rosanne the night prior in favor of a silky and revealing dress made of deep purples and blacks; a few designs etched at the seams giving away the tailor's proclivity toward the Grimleal. Still an impractical choice by Gerome's standards, but that was the way of mages.

Looking at the scantily clad mage made Gerome's stomach churn in disgust. The fact that she could wear their colors without the immediate need to bath herself in lye was beyond him. It too put him in a foul mood.

"You're scowling again," Sonya casually said aloud as she flipped a page. "It'll make lines on your face. You won't be young forever, you know."

"Hmmm."

Not like it's any of her business. Dragging us out before sunrise in secret was a hassle enough. So damned tedious.

Sonya's bright blue eyes flicked up to the armored knight with a hint of playfulness on her rosy lips. "Oh, is someone a little grumpy they didn't get breakfast?" Sonya mewled in a childish tone. She clicked her tongue and returned her attention to her book. "Grow up, Gerome. You can be in a foul mood, but with your effort, I'm surprised you haven't warped your face into some hideous visage yet. T'would be quite the shame."

"Right," Gerome grunted back.

Sonya sighed and closed the book. She straightened her posture, held her chin up high, and stuck her chest out a bit as if to be the perfect image of someone listening. "Well, something is certainly on your mind. Why don't we discuss it? Whatever could it be?"

Seriously? Gerome blinked and hummed under his breath. No...she's just trying to mess with me. Get me to say it. Fine then.

"Why did we capture your mother?"

Sonya held up a finger. "Ah, ah, ah. Remember the rule?"

Gerome breathed deeply and fought back another groan. He removed his mask and leaned back in the carriage seat, his glare settling on the mage.

"Happy now?"

"Quite. Now, as to your question," Sonya clasped her hands together, "you're wondering why I've captured my sweet mother?" She took a deep breath and unleashed a high pitch screech, "because she isn't supposed to be here! None of them are! We were supposed to take control of Valm without interference. There was a reason we made the pact in the first place! Not interfering with our parents and keeping the timeline streamlined was the optimal solution!"

Wow, she is mad.

Sonya closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, composing herself. "So, yes, that is why I captured my mother. Because my father is here inciting a revolution underneath our noses, the Grimleal is a difficult enough organization to infiltrate, and Walhart is a bull that only knows the command 'forward'," Sonya hissed out like a child berating a child. "So, we must improvise with our new state of the world and adapt. Satisfied?"

Not really. Gerome chewed on his tongue and crossed his arms. This whole plan feels shaky.

"Was it a good idea to leave Anje under Henry's care?"

"Master Hen—err, Henry is quite capable. Perhaps you should trust in your father's skills." Sonya slouched in her seat and huffed. "Still infuriates me that we travel into the past and he's still better at magic than I am. Completely unfair."

Gerome didn't respond. He knew when to let Sonya vent out. The sound of her own voice was often her best friend.

"And to think," Sonya continued, "that even after all we suffered through in that miserable future, that someone would break the pact." She snapped her fingers and let out a dark chuckle. "You know who it probably was?"

"Who," Gerome stated in a flat tone.

"Fucking Morgan." Sonya spat the words out like venom; her hands balled up and shook as her knuckles turned pale. "That bitch couldn't handle that I dare suggest killing Robin as an option. And now she fraternizes with rebels to impede us. At least Lucina had the foresight to not get involved, the damned fencesitter. And now where are we? We've nearly unified Valm, but now have many unknown variables. Too many for my liking."

All from threatening to kill our friend's parents after they sacrificed so much. Sonya's heart is colder than the Feroxi wastes...still, Gerome thought, this is probably the best way. Repeating past mistakes is pointless.

"So what's the plan?" Gerome said, sitting forward. "We know how things went down last time didn't go well. I only agreed because you offered a sound plan."

"And I still do," Sonya retorted. "Nah still believes in me, as should you. Unifying Valm quickly as possible and launching an immediate strike on Plegia while it's crippled from war is the optimal solution to flush out Grima. Or at least it was until my recent communications with Exalt Chrom. Barely a war was even had!" Sonya slammed a fist against the soft carriage back cushion. "We've just more loose ends now."

The carriage bucked as they went over a rough patch. The red curtains in front of the windows began to lighten a bit; sunrise had finally arrived after the long night.

"The plan," Sonya continued, "is we get my mother to see things our way. We may not be able to convince others ourselves of the impending disaster that strikes, but with her, we could sway father. And then…well you're smart enough to sort out that bit."

Gerome sighed. "And you think she'll go along with it? Your mother has never been the most...reasonable person."

Sonya barked out a single, haughty laugh. "An understatement for sure, but I have a few ideas. I think we can make a solid case. If anybody can get to her, it's me."

"Fair enough." Gerome moved the curtain back from the door's window and looked out at the mountainside. "To Fort Steiger then?"

"Indeed. We'll talk with mother once there, loosen her up a bit, and then return with Nah and Walhart as they should be done in Rigel soon." Sonya inspected her long, unpainted nails and hummed lightly. "Then perhaps we can finally be done with this farce and awaken the Voice. Seeing a united Valm and presenting what danger lies before us should prove enough motivation for her."

"If you say so," Gerome replied. He shifted a bit in his seat; his armor made relaxing a bit difficult. "Mind if I step out? I'm going to give Minerva some exercise and scout a bit."

Sonya gave a quick flourish of her hand toward the door. "By all means, Gerome. Enjoy the air. I'm going to continue to further my studies." She coughed into her fist and cleared her throat. "Stop the cart!"

The cart slowed down and Gerome nodded in thanks. He opened the door and stepped out quickly, slipping his mask back on before any guards would see him. They had only brought 2 other carriages with them, one for guards and one as a medical wagon to hold their prison sedated until deposit. His stomach churned again and he grimaced.

Next time, I will take some food from the banquet before we leave in such a hurry.

Gerome looked up at the open skies. He put two fingers in his mouth and let out a loud and sharp whistle. Minerva came barreling out of the skyline, and a small smile spread across Gerome's face.

It was the most beautiful and elegant thing he'd seen all morning, and at that moment his stomach quieted as he mounted the last gift he received from his mother and flew off.

Cherche

Weeks of marching through the rocky mountains had finally given way to the verdant core of Valm. Expansive treelines, friendly wildlife, and sunshine were all but foreign to Cherche as she saw the Mila Tree off in the distance. She had almost forgotten what Valm used to be, and it served as a great reminder of what it could be once again.

Cherche patted Minerva on her neck, giving her a small rub. "Atta girl. You've done a great job, but let's check in with the others and take a break."

With a single pull of the harness, Minerva dove toward the ground. Her pinkish hair flapped wildly behind her as she embraced a huge grin. Soaring through the air was a power few ever got to experience, and to Cherche, it was a thrill and a blessing all in one.

Despite everything, I still have my Minervykins.

As Cherche and Minvera dipped below the treeline, she guessed correctly and landed in front of Robin's group. Robin had a mess of loose pages held out in front of him, consistently angling and looking at them from different angles.

He's a strange one, but he certainly helped us dispatch that bandit party a few days ago. Virion found a smart one.

"Welcome back, Cherche," Miriel said in a matter-of-fact tone. She held a large map in her hands and greedily scanned its contents. "Due north, how long?"

"Maybe an hour or two," Cherche replied. "Shouldn't be too much farther at our pace."

She looked back at the rest of the group who looked a bit worse for wear. Robin had ordered a straight march once they had awoken in the morning, and now it was nearing evening. With the exception of a few bathroom breaks and eating some rations on the road, people without mounts were tired. Everyone sans Cherche, and oddly enough, Robin who continued to march with a bubbly energy about him.

Cherche and Miriel turned toward the rest of their group; Libra wore a strained smile but seemed to be in good spirits, Lon'qu looked bored as one might expect, and Tharja was drenched in sweat and clutching her tome to her chest quite tightly.

I don't think she gets out much, Cherche thought as she offered the dark mage a sympathetic smile. Maybe I should ask her for some help?

"Hey, Tharja?" Cherche called out, managing to get the dark mage's attention very quickly. She looked at Cherche with bleary eyes and her lips drawn into a thin line. "Would you, uh, want to ride on Minerva for a bit?"

"Not really," Tharja coughed out. "Just...trying to keep up with Robin."

"Alright, let me know if you change your mind!" Cherche cheerily replied.

Maybe I offer to give her some workouts? Her arms are so noodly. Plus, a little pain is always good, right?

Cherche looked over to Miriel, but the mage had already begun hurrying down the woodland path without her. She hustled back up to Miriel and, instead of a map, she held out a letter of obscure writing in front of her, staring intently at the paper while mouthing out words.

"What do you have there?" Cherche peered over Miriel's shoulder. "Magical tome?"

"What I hold in my hands is an elaborate cipher created using the ancient divine dragon tribe's dead language," Miriel explained. "It is complex, and Robin and I have been working on it for months with little progress due to the lack of intact resources."

"So it's the manakete language?" Cherche asked. "I've seen that stuff around some of the old temples to Mila and Duma before. Some in texts too. Maybe I could help?"

Miriel frowned. "Doubtful, I'm afraid. While you do raise a good point, we've already exhausted that route. The language used by then had already branched. Right here is an older dialect, probably of the likes used by Naga herself."

Cherche nodded and smiled. "That's pretty interesting! I'd offer more help, but I fear I may be out of my step. I had a proper education, but nothing of the likes you must've had."

"A sentiment I find agreeable," Miriel replied. "The truly strange thing is the origin of the note. The paper used was relatively new, and for it to have come from Anje was increasingly dubious."

Cherche raised an eyebrow. "This was Anje's? She doesn't strike me as the scholarly type."

"An understatement, but ultimately a correct verdict." Miriel pocked the note and adjusted her hat to keep the sun out of her eyes. "It has been a mystery, but there is joy in this kind of research. There is always something deeper to discover."

Cherche nodded along with Miriel's statement and walked alongside her in silence, trailing after the small white blur ahead that was Robin. The trees swayed with the gentle breeze and the birds chirped, though a pit had formed in Cherche's abdomen. Where such sights would usually bring her joy and pride, the silence gave way to solemn reflection. To know that this was the last vestige untouched by Walhart's rampage, and only out of sheer coincidence that he agreed it would be a demilitarized zone. A decision that Cherche still frequently pondered.

The walk continued at a brisk pace until the group reached rolling hills, much to Tharja's exasperation. Cherche felt a bit proud that her training had granted her such strong leg muscles, though how Robin and Miriel kept up the pace as mages while Tharja floundered was beyond her.

Perhaps it's the adrenaline? The thrill of a new discovery? Cherche thought as they crested the last hill before the Mila tree.

A strong wind gusted into Cherche's face as she stopped atop the hill. The rest of the group had paused as well, taking in the grandeur of the ancient tree that now served as the final resting place to its namesake divine dragon. Its trunk was wider than most streets and at the base small huts surrounded it with small pillars of smoke billowing out the tops.

"I believe that is where the monks are," Cherche pointed to the huts in the distance. "They're the ones who tend the tree and maintain the forests. Followers of the old ways."

"They don't worship Naga?" Libra's curious voice came from behind Cherche.

She looked over her shoulder and nodded. "Kinda. They still worship Naga, I think, but they pay specific homage to Mila. If you want to know more, I'd probably ask them. I wasn't very involved in clerical studies."

Libra nodded, returning to admire the scenery. Cherche looked back toward the tree, and Miriel had gone ahead to speak with Robin. They spoke in a hushed tone that was just quiet enough that the wind blotted out the specifics of the conversation, but Robin soon broke off and descended toward the tree while Miriel calmly walked back.

"He's going alone?" Lon'qu asked, though it was more of a statement.

Miriel adjusted her glasses and nodded. "He will talk with the monks and show them the artifact we've in our possession. He said we could break until his return."

"Shouldn't one of you go along as an escort?" Cherche asked, looking at Libra and Lon'qu. "The monks aren't dangerous, but isn't he your group's tactician?"

Lon'qu shrugged. "I'm paid to listen."

"I'm patient enough to wait to speak with the monk and enjoy our little respite," Libra noted. He stretched his arms and took a cross-legged seat on the ground. "Enjoy the rest, Cherche. We're quite a distance from Walhart's armies."

Tharja flopped onto her back and spread out in a starfish pose. Her modesty has diminished in proportion to her exhaustion as she didn't even cast a glance upward to catch Lon'qu's wandering eye. In some small way, Cherche admired her boldness to not care.

Cherche agreed to wait and nestled up to Minerva, laying her head against the wyvern's scaly side. Her eyes fluttered a bit, teasing the thought of rest, and as she neared a midday nap, she felt something kick at her feet.

She looked up and saw Miriel, a map opened up in front of her, hiding the mage's face. "Robin has returned. He said we have been granted access to the inner sanctum, but only for a short while. He said inside should be the answer we seek."

Cherche looked around the hilltop and saw that she was the last one to leave with the rest of the group nearly at the bottom of the hill. She roused herself quickly and brushed off the grass from her rear and greaves.

"Sorry about the wait. I suppose it's just been a while since I've actually taken a moment to rest."

Miriel gave a curt nod. "Understood. But you are ready to descend?"

Cherche gestured for Miriel to lead, and the scholar took off at a quick and measured pace. Minerva let out a yawn, and Cherche couldn't help but giggle. Okay, fine. You can stay here you big lug, Cherche thought as she gave the wyvern one last chin scratch.

The sun was hidden behind the large branches of the Mila Tree and bathed the little village in amber light. The smoke continued to flow from the small muddy chimneys, while only the clucking of farm animals broke the tension.

Cherche frowned as she saw no monks greet them. Usually, there were twenty or so that lived near the tree. While they weren't the most social bunch, they did tend to greet curious travelers.

"No welcome party?" Cherche asked as she joined the tail end of the group.

Robin looked up from the cipher note, a cheery smile plastered across his face. "Oh, they're eating dinner. Said we could just go up the path on the trunk. Inside we should find the method to decode this little message."

Cherche crossed her arms. "So we came out to a spiritual relic to solve a mystery?"

Robin let out a single laugh. "No! Of course not. It's much more special. You'll see. Now c'mon!"

The group trailed after Robin who nearly scampered his way up the path made up of old risen roots of the Mila Tree. The ground was oddly shaped, but sturdy enough as it coiled up the tree much like a spiral staircase, taking them inside the trunk. The light gleamed through the hollow top and some cracks in the great tree, though the sounds of animals died off, leaving Cherche and the group with only the sounds of their hollow footsteps and the smell of dried wood.

Thankfully for Tharja, who began to look winded once again, the hike wasn't long as before as they walked up the last root into a small circular sanctum atop the tree. Dusk had begun to settle as the sun threatened to dip below the branches and the broken stone pillars held a large carved seat in the center.

Sleeping on the throne with their legs crossed and back resting against the rock, Cherche saw a figure dressed in red with a blue orb sitting in their lap. From a distance, it was difficult to make out their facial features, but it was undeniable.

The rumors were true. The Voice of Naga truly does live atop the Mila Tree. That must be why Walhart avoided it!

The group slowed as they caught sight of the sleeping manakete, but Robin continued ahead without any sign of slowing down. Cherche and Miriel were the closest behind Robin as he made it to the precipice of the stone throne.

"Lady Tiki, is that you?" Cherche asked aloud. Robin looked back and raised a hand, and Miriel paused. Cherche's legs continued to go forward, but Miriel's hand snatched Cherche by the wrist and the mage gave her a look that said 'wait'.

Cherche wrested her wrist back and nodded. It's the Voice of Naga, pardon me if I'm a little intrigued!

Tiki's nose wrinkled a bit, and then she let out a large yawn. She stretched her arms over her head as her eyes fluttered open.

"My, who is that?" Tiki's melodic yet rusty voice mumbled out. She wiped at the sleepy bits in the corners of her eyes and squinted at Robin. "Hmmm, you're not Marth."

"You are Tiki, Voice of Naga, correct?" Robin asked, his tone sounding urgent.

"Yes, that is I," Tiki said, placing a hand on her chest as if to exemplify the point.

Robin nodded and pointed to the orb. "And the stone Azure?"

Tiki held it close to her stomach and nodded. Her eyes were still dropping, as waking up from several hundred years of slumber did take a bit of adjustment.

"Good. Then I have a message for Naga," Robin said.

"A message for Naga?" Tiki leaned forward and fought back another yawn. "Well, what is it?"

"Tell her you share a grave with Mila."

The loudest scream Cherche had heard in her life erupted from Tiki, shaking the ground and ringing her ears. Dark purple energy had enveloped Robin's right arm, and from Cherche's angle seemed to be gestured toward Tiki. Cherche forced her feet forward and peered her head around to get a better vantage, gritting her teeth as the sound of agony and pain was filling her head.

Robin's right arm was elbow deep inside of the Voice's gut, and fragments of the blue crystalline orb were shattered, some chunks scattered on the stone seat and the ground, while others were embedded inside Tiki's torso.

Cherche fought back the bubbling feeling of vomit trying to slither its way out the back of her throat. What in the name of Naga…

Robin wrenched his bloodied arm from Tiki's stomach and the manakete fell to the ground, lifeless. Robin glanced at his handiwork for a moment and flicked some of the blood off his hand and drenched arm.

"I thought she'd put up more of a fight, you know?" Robin casually remarked. He used his clean hand and wiped off a fleck of splattered blood from his face, and then put it in his mouth. He shook his head in disapproval. "Tastes as I remember it. Little too sweet for my liking."

"What...did you do," Cherche said, trying to sound strong, but her voice cracked as she couldn't look away from the still bleeding corpse in front of her. "Y-y-you just-"

"Killed Tiki?" Robin finished. "I thought that part was clear." He looked to Miriel who hadn't said a word yet, though her knees shook mightily. "Nothing to add, scholar? You must feel pretty silly right now. I was under your nose the entire time, and yet you all suspected nothing."

"It's...Grima," Tharja said with a mix of awe and fear. "But, how?"

The figure rolled his eyes and discarded the bloodied purple jacket, leaving him in his white undershirt. "At least one of my followers can identify me," he said, unimpressed. Tharja began to walk forward, but he put up a finger stopping her in her tracks. "Though, I do remember you pledging yourself to Robin, not me. Correct?"

Tharja froze like a frightened deer. Cherche looked to Lon'qu and Libra, both who stood back with Libra on the verge of tears and Lon'qu looking panicked for once. Cherche finally found the courage to reach for her axe, and drew it. They were in the presence of the Grima.

"How?" Cherche said through her teeth.

"It's quite simple really," Grima replied, unbothered or unaware of tenseness. "I'm from the future to put it simply. Bonded to my vessel, though he gave me a good fight." He patted Robin's chest and chuckled. "He was always mine though. It was only a matter of time before there was more of me than there was of him. He's still in there, clinging onto that last little shred. Like a barnacle in the ocean."

Cherche readied her axe, but Grima merely chuckled and shook his head. Lon'qu walked forward with his sword at the ready, and Libra with tears streaking down his face with his own axe in his hands. Tharja slowly went to her hip and lifted her tome while Miriel did the same. No words had to be said. They'd been lied to by a murderer; the least they could do was stand up in defense of Tiki.

Grima scanned each of the Shepherds and placed his hands on his hips. "So eager to die?" He gestured to Tiki's body. "But do consider the result. Charging me like the dumb animals you are is admirable, but foolish."

Cherche had heard enough. She charged the fallen dragon with a penchant for rage. The rest follow suit quickly after, consumed by their own thoughts of revenge and betrayal. Cherche didn't know Robin as well as the rest, but it still hurt the same. She'd invited someone who was supposed to help heal the land of Valm. Not destroy a possible route to salvation. And so they charged Grima with reckless abandon.

A great pulse of purple energy reverberated off Grima as Lon'qu and Cherche got within a few footsteps of Robin's body. He seemed bored as they screamed and shouted at him, and as the blast hit the group, Cherche's legs felt like her bones had turned to jelly and her arms lacked the strength to lift themselves. She along with the others toppled to the ground one after another, unable to move and fighting for air.

Cherche was lucky enough to land on her back, her attention fixated on the darkening sky. She heard slow footsteps walk over to her as she desperately tried to get her limbs to move. To do anything, yet she remained frozen in place and weaker than a newborn.

Robin's form loomed over Cherche, smiling a bit too wide for it to be genuine. "Careful what you wish for, is what they say, no? You had wished for a savior, but not for the ambition to see it through."

Grima chuckled softly, wiping a tear from Cherche's cheek as she lay frozen on the ground. Her ribs ached with a fiery pain and her fingers failed to grip her axe. Grima looked up at the frail branches of the Mila Tree and sighed.

"I'd like to personally thank you for leading me here, and so I shall make good on my promise to cleanse this land. I won't make it quick, either." Grima's eyes lit up with a spectral purplish hue as he leaned closer. "That'd spoil all the fun."

"Are you going to kill me?" Cheche bit back a hiss as she tried to sit up. "Or the rest of us?"

"No," Grima said, his voice like a sheet of sandpaper. He scanned the ripped apart ritual site and injured Shepherds like someone might browse the market for a piece of meat. "The living have their uses."

Then the dragon barked out a laugh; pitiless and genuine as if he could only perceive the humor hidden within his words. It grated against her ears, and Cherche desperately wished to be anywhere else, but the dragon had fixated its gaze on her own. She felt so small and smothered by the being's presence, like drowning in a bottomless ocean.

"This is where we part for now. I have some... business to attend to," Grima glanced back at Tiki for a moment, "but don't despair. We'll be seeing each other again soon. Be sure to spread the word. Let them know I'm coming. I want them to know. Especially those with the mark of the Exalt."

Grima stepped over Cherche and began to walk away. The footsteps eventually petered out and disappeared into the black of night. Her heart raced as the scene played in her mind over and over again. Could I have acted quicker and Tiki would be alive? Why couldn't I do more?

Strength over the next hour slowly returned to Cherche's limbs, and to her relief, the others of the group as well. She quickly looked around the darkened shrine, but Grima was nowhere to be seen, and all that remained were the shattered remains of Azure and the corpse of Naga's daughter.

"We should bury her." Cherche looked over to Libra, who propped himself up with his axe. He began to shamble toward Tharja, helping the dark mage to her unsteady feet. "It isn't right to just leave her...like this."

"I would agree," Tharja spat out. She stared at the ground as if it had personally wronged her, and then kicked at a pebble. "Though, to think he could command such a powerful enfeeblement hex so quickly..."

Miriel said nothing but began to move toward Tiki. She knelt beside the woman and made sure her eyes were closed and folded her arms across her chest. Cherche came beside her and patted her on the back. The woman's glasses were chipped from when she fell, but she still wore them nonetheless.

The group worked quickly, and with a bit of fire magic from Tharja, they made a small pyre and buried a mound for Tiki. Cherche watched the fire intently and felt something deep within her stir. In a world where monsters seemed to be overtaking her life, that quiet and calm rage that helped guide her in battle yearned for more. To take something, anything at all, back.

She stood close to Miriel and offered her shoulder to cry on as Libra said the last rites and Tharja huddled close to Lon'qu, who for once didn't panic or seem agitated about the woman's presence.

They remained until the fire had nearly died down to coals, and the sounds of footsteps echoed up the roots of the tree. Ever the steady vigil, Cherche whipped around with her axe held low. It's happening again, she reminded herself. I shall not be caught off guard a second time.

The rest of the group turned to face the new source of noise, and soon a couple of figures shrouded in shadows approached.

There are three of them. Cherche's shoulders tensed and she reared back, ready to pounce at a moment's notice.

Tharja conjured another flame and held it in the palm of her hand, illuminating the wide-open sanctuary like a small sun. Cherche leered at the newcomers as she recognized one of the three women as Chon'sinese by her combat apparel and headband. The other looked vaguely like Robin had, though much younger and female, and the last of the group was an armored woman with a warhammer strapped to her back.

"Hey there!" The young auburn hair girl called out. She waved to the group, and Cherche tilted her head and waved back. The girl turned back toward her comrade and shouted out. "Hey Noire, stop hiding behind Kjelle! You know who is here!"

A whimpering sound echoed out from behind the tall female Ylissean knight who sighed and sidestepped to reveal a shivering female archer in green and brown leather armor. She immediately ducked behind the knight again who simply shrugged.

Who are these people?

The Chon'sinese woman broke apart from the pack and stepped before Cherche, and performed a formal bow. Cherche lowered her axe and bowed in kind.

"Apologies for the intrusion, but I've been searching for you and your compatriots. My name is Say'ri. Are you...Cherche of Rosanne perchance?"

"That is I," Cherche confirmed. "I've heard of you. Chon'sinese resistance, right?"

Say'ri nodded. "That's correct. Is Lady Tiki nearby? I'd like to speak with her."

Cherche grimaced. "Pull up a seat by the fire. I'm afraid you and your friends are a bit late."

Say'ri raised an eyebrow and gestured to her posse to follow her. They passed by Cherche giving her a few strange looks but pressed onward without any comments. She couldn't help but shake her head at the mess she'd found herself in.

I'm sorry, Virion. I wish I could say I did my best, but I know I could have done more. A new evil now stalks these lands, and I fear it may be worse than the one we've come to know.

A/N: That's a wrap on the interlude. A bit difficult to write some of these characters, so hopefully I did it justice to expand the world out a bit before we zoom back into our main PoV. Do you all like the interludes every once and a while, or prefer them more frequently? Lemme know :)

Big thanks to UDtimburrhog for providing excellent feedback as a beta for the chapter. Much appreciated for putting up with my antics and being another pair of analytical eyes.

Review Response: In general thanks for the feedback, it's all very endearing!

Half-beastdragonsoul2013: Didn't expect that? I was hoping for that :) And I do believe that's the probable explanation!

Cavik: The time for horniness has been put on pause for the drama!

FlamelessRider: And so the rabbit hole gets a bit deeper, and the next chapter shall be an exciting one!

RedxEagl3: Shit do be complicated. Valm is about to get a whole lot weirder.

TheBobcat18: Thanks for the kind words, and keep on reading! Glad you're enjoying the banter :D

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Until next time, cya!