Chonker of a chapter inbound. I've recently been thinking about adding a voice cast for Katáktisi, but I'm currently torn between Darth Malak from KOTOR and AM from the radio play of I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream.
Chapter XV
If the goddess was capable of giving omens, the dusting of hoarfrost that blanketed the monastery on the first of the Red Wolf Moon was a pretty damning one. Garreg Mach was situated at the center of the continent, which meant that it would be a lot warmer than in Faerghus. The fact that it was already snowing heralded a frigid winter. Snow was nice and cute when it was something to be observed from far away. But when I was actually in the thick of it, I wanted nothing more than to go back inside and nurse a nice cup of hot cocoa. Unfortunately, work still needed to be done regardless of the weather. Although this… wasn't exactly in my usual list of duties.
"So you're saying your daughter entered this coma…" I reiterated, scrawling notes in my newly-purchased notebook. I didn't want to have to crack open the Bomber's Notebook again. It was getting cramped, which was a sentence I never thought I'd say. That thing was deceptively spacious, even after all my escapades in Termina.
"On the twenty-seventh of the Wyvern Moon," the old lady responded, worry evident in her voice and in the frenzied tapping of her fingers on the antique oak table. "She doesn't eat or drink, or…" She closed her eyes in a silent prayer.
"What was she doing when this happened?" Shamir pushed.
"I don't know? She seemed fine the day before, and then… she didn't wake up. Oh goddess, please save my daughter…"
Catherine was standing over the bedridden woman, an inscrutable expression on her face. The Church had received reports of several cases such as these in the neighboring Remire Village. Professor Manuela was already swamped in older cases, so despite our lack of training in the medical arts, Shamir and Catherine were tasked with managing the surplus. I had just decided to come along for the ride.
I scribbled down the old lady's testimony. The symptoms of whatever disease was ravaging Remire were so varied. The last patient we had gone to had to be locked in their room for their own safety– whatever this was, it had made them prone to fits of unparalleled violence. The victim before that was a nervous wreck. Whatever was causing this had to be psychological in nature. And the smell…
I could feel Thunderbrand thrumming from its place at Catherine's hip. It was an angry vibration. Like it, too, was teetering on the brink between silence and madness. A part of me wanted to whip out my ocarina and blast the Song of Healing as loudly as I could. If it was a curse of some kind, perhaps it would help, as it had helped me all that time ago when I was trapped in the body of a Deku Scrub. I sensed Katáktisi's objection before it could make it. Doing such a thing– releasing the agonies and regrets of those in earshot– would raise questions. Too many questions. It would direct attention towards myself from the Church, and may dig up the lie I had been carefully keeping buried all this time.
"Are you writing all of this down?"
"Of course, Shamir," I confirmed.
"This is an affront to the goddess," Catherine concluded. "Don't worry, ma'am– the Knights of Seiros will save your daughter. And if someone is responsible for this…" Her hand clenched into a fist. "We will serve them justice."
"Bless you, Thunder Catherine! Oh, bless you!"
We left the house, the stinging Red Wolf air biting at our skin. "There's no rhyme or reason to any of these patients!" the swordmaster complained. "Nor any inkling of how to solve it! It's infuriating!"
"We should leave the diagnosis to Manuela," Shamir advised in that flat way of hers.
"Can they wait that long?" I demanded. I took a long lungful of winter air through my nose. "There's something on the breeze. Something foul… It could be sickness, it could be poison… it could be dark magic. Or it may be the stench of misery. If I had to guess, I'd say it was that."
It did smell familiar. It smelled like Majora.
I tugged my hat a little further down my head. The sounds of distress was all I could hear. I couldn't help but try to blot it out as much as possible, to save myself the guilt of not being able to do anything to stop it.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Shamir asked as we entered another building. We could already hear the banging of whichever infected was inside. Shoot, I was hoping she would have taken that figuratively…
You have made a grave error, Katáktisi remarked. Why would you even bring up Μιζέρια at a time like this?
Because I wanted to help the people of Remire. If Misery truly is responsible for this–
Impossible, it reasoned. We forced Μιζέρια into a catatonic state on the moon. There is no easy cure for that.
Didn't Odesse say that they were able to restore Φρίκη? My friendly upstairs Crestwraith was silent.
"Back home, one of the gods of our pantheon was a destroyer," I quickly ad libbed. "It was called Misery. It was said to take the form of a multicolored mask that bewitched the mind and ensnared the senses. You could tell who was under its control, supposedly, by the smell of hopelessness and fear. I thought Remire was a pretty good match."
"It's a better theory than nothing, that's for damn sure," Catherine admitted. "We should inform Lady Rhea." My blood ran cold. That was the opposite of what I wanted!
"That's– I doubt it," I hastened to clarify. I hoped they couldn't sense my nervousness as I jotted down notes on this patient. I was probably safe from Catherine, but Shamir was a whole other beast. "No one in Fódlan believes in those gods. Their existence is at odds with what the Church of Seiros teaches, after all."
"True," the Knight of Seiros admitted, "but do we have any other options?" I bit my tongue, hard.
"Professor!" Leonie called. "Captain Jeralt just told me. Remire Village is in a bad way, right?"
"The situation there is worrying, yes," the aforementioned Captain said. "But tell me, how's your vertigo?" Vertigo? Was Byleth feeling unwell? She certainly had been pushing herself recently…
"I'm fine. Really, I am," the ex-merc assured unconfidently.
"Were you not feeling okay?" Leonie asked. "You seem fine to me."
"I hope you're not just saying that. We can't have you putting on a brave face only to fall in battle."
"I'd be happy to assist in any way that I can," I chimed in. "Speaking of– Mr Jeralt, I noticed you were running low on salve, so I went ahead and restocked your quarters for you."
"I would rather you have asked before going through my things," the older man admonished, "but thank you."
My thoughts lingered on Remire. Shamir, Catherine, and I had spent the entire day going through every new case. At the rate of new patients, by tomorrow it would be more than any of us could handle alone or in small groups. This was truly a trying time. Psychotic breakdowns, spontaneous comas, waking dreams and mental deterioration… it was a bit much. It felt like the final hours of Termina, stretched over many days' time. Without the moon, fortunately.
It was 10:57 A.M. and I hadn't slept yesterday, so at this point I was all but falling asleep by the time I reached my dormitory. I traversed the area, going more by instinct and memory than by vision. But as I reached for the doorknob, something caught my eye that I did not expect. Inside appeared to be a lit candle. I was surprised that it had continued to burn, since I hadn't been here since yesterday morning. I shook the drowsiness out of my eyes, and pushed the door open on well-oiled hinges.
Immediately, Katáktisi screamed for me to draw my blade. I questioned why for half a moment, only for the realization to hit me like a tidal wave.
I was not alone.
There was a middle-aged man seated on my bed. His hair was slicked back in a long mullet, his beard perfectly trimmed. He was adorned in beige and plum colored fabric, the markings of the Adrestian Empire very visible on his person. This must have been a high-ranking noble. His eyes were locked onto me, sizing me up like a piece of meat. If this was the kind of thing that people like Sylvain had to deal with all the time, well… it would certainly explain Sylvain's assessment of most of the upper class.
"You must beg my sincerest forgiveness," I said, bowing to show that I was not a threat. "I must have entered the wrong room." I knew that was untrue, but I didn't want to accidentally insult this guy. With a stare that intense, I didn't want to risk anything. "Are you here to visit someone? If so, I could–"
Abruptly, he stood, towering over my short height. My hand drifted to my pouch, just in case. "No. You are exactly where I want you to be. You are this 'Link' I've heard so much about, are you not?"
He knew my name?! My hands immediately dove into my pouch, scrabbling for purchase on the hilt of the Great Fairy's Sword. This was a threat, nothing more and nothing less.
Kneel, the Crestwraith demanded, sounding almost panicked. That was certainly a change of pace from a couple of moments ago.
Wait, what? What gives? I'm not going to prostate some creep because he found his way to my room!
You do not understand. This is the Agastya; this is he who shall tear the infidels from the teats of the false god! Now– kneel before him! Death shall be your defiance's only reward!
Agastya– that was a title I had heard from Odesse in Shambhala. This was the leader of the Agarthans, he who commanded their wrath. Now was not the time for pride. I immediately knelt reverently, putting my right hand to my left pectoral. "Our apologies, Agastya. We did not recognize you."
His face remained perfectly neutral. "Of course not. My disguise is suited for its purpose." Lord Volkhard von Arundel tilted his head upwards, as though his height advantage didn't have him looking down on me enough as it was. "That matters not. Answer me, wretched creature–" I wasn't sure exactly what he did, but suddenly I found that I could barely breathe. "Why did you slay Μιζέρια?"
I allowed Κατάκτηση control of my lips. If I did not, I would have sooner spat upon his boots for insulting me so. "I had no more choice in the matter than the wind can choose to blow," we said. "This host was unruly. He used my power to cut down Μιζέρια before I could dominate him properly. Were I not able to convince him of our cause, I may have been lost as well."
"Quite the strength your current host possesses. Where did you acquire it?" 'Acquire'? The Agastya spoke of the process of consuming my spirit, mind, and body, and called it 'acquiring'? A deep hatred simmered in my veins, but I stifled it. For now.
"It attempted to undo the machinations of Μιζέρια shortly before we would have consumed another world," Katáktisi stated matter-of-factly. "It nearly succeeded in only three days. That spirit, yearning to be feasted upon, is what drew me to it. Like a moth to a flame." I was stewing in revulsion at being called an 'it', but I knew it would make 'Arundel' less suspicious of the true nature of our bond.
"Do you not believe this to be unwise?"
"If Μιζέρια could be destroyed, it was weak," Katáktisi spat. "Weakness has no place in your glorious design."
The lord's eyes narrowed. "Know that you will be held liable for your host's weakness as well. Should you fail to conform it to our designs… you, Κατάκτηση, will be held responsible.
"Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?"
"Naturally, Agastya," the Crestwraith replied calmly. I swallowed my fear. If Katáktisi wanted to consume me, it would have done so a long time ago. It had cast its die, and its fate was sealed alongside mine.
"It is hardly 'natural', the Agarthan hissed. His voice lowered to a hateful snarl. "Φρίκη and Aγωνία lie in the hands of that traitor, Καϊάφας. Swayed to his side. Why should you not follow the same path?"
We tsked. "Μιζέρια, Φρίκη, and Aγωνία are just that– Misery, Horror, and Agony. They are irrationality, the fetid stench of the world's most shameful fears. They care not for ideology, they exist in spite of it. But I am Κατάκτηση. I am all that is war, violence, and bloodlust. And war means nothing without code and creed. The path of the Agastya is the path that shall destroy what remains of the Nabateans, and that is the ideal that we strive for."
The other Crestwraiths joined Caiaphas? I asked. But why?
Thales' tactics have always been too subtle for our liking. Too slow, Katáktisi said. Once, I would have leapt at the chance to stamp out the spawn of the Fell Star. But now… that would mean losing you. And a victory over the children of the 'goddess' without you is hardly a victory at all.
Katáktisi's lord seemed assuaged by this explanation. "Wipe your host's mind of this interaction. We cannot risk it raising an alarm." No, no, no–
I am sorry. I am incapable of disobeying. "But of course, Agastya." I begged Katáktisi to reconsider– I would never speak of this moment, I would never… uh…
Wait.
What was I talking about again? And who was this old man in my bedroom? When had he started to talk to me?
"Now, I have much business to attend to," he was saying. "And I am sure that you do as well. While Solon is absent… do try to keep Kronya in line." Who in Fodra, Hyrule, and Termina was Kronya? That wasn't a name I had heard from anyone. Was he Agarthan? Maybe she was 'Monica''s doppelgänger?
"Your will is my conviction," Katáktisi said through me. A seed of horror built within the dark corners of my mind. Did you–
I did wipe your memory of the event. As I once swore never to do, it confessed. The noble nodded darkly, before standing and exiting my room, the door slamming behind him with a sense of utter finality. I will return it now.
A wave of stabbing anemoia washed over me, as the events of the previous couple minutes inserted themselves perfectly into my recollection. At once, I understood the danger that man posed. That was the Agastya– the tyrant who ruled over all Agartha. I know why you did that, and while I don't approve of it, I at least understand.
That is all I ask.
So 'Monica', 'Tomas', the Salesman, and now this guy, I mused. That's four disguised Agarthans we know. They're everywhere.
More than that. They have agents within the Kingdom as well. I suspect that gremory Arnim is also among their number.
Cornelia? She was the Court Mage who had served King Lambert, lauded for saving the country from a brutal plague that had swept the nation a number of years ago, long before I had arrived on the scene. Dima had always warned me to steer clear of her. Obviously His Highness didn't know that she was an Agarthan in disguise, but I guess he could on some level tell the difference between the real Cornelia and the fake one. Thanks for telling me, I guess.
You are welcome.
After being confronted by the Agastya just last night, a summons from Archbishop Rhea herself was not what I needed. I took a deep breath and entered her study, located on the highest story of the chapel as if to be closer to the lying goddess above. She was present, of course– still wearing the same church regalia as always. A cup of tea rested on her desk, issuing steam from its surface. The room smelled of fresh pine needles. I had never come up here before. Considering its purpose, it was a nice place.
"You sent for me?" I asked timidly, trying to exude only passivity in my voice.
"I did indeed," Rhea said warmly. "Please, take a seat."
It would be rude not to do so, so I perched myself on the opposite side of her desk, pausing before I met her eyes. "If I may be so bold, Lady Rhea, what is the purpose of this meeting? My schedule is quite packed today." Katáktisi and I quickly scanned the room for the most effective route of egress, as well as whatever objects she would most likely use as a weapon if it came to that. I didn't need to worry about my own armaments– if she wanted to tussle, the Fierce Deity could tussle.
"It is nothing serious," the Nabatean assured, sipping her cup of tea. "I understand that you have been at the monastery for more than a year now, and while your line of work does not frequently interact with mine, I first want to say that your effect on the monastery cannot be questioned. I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for being a part of our community, Link."
"I…" I didn't know what to say. I thought I was going to be the one sucking up to her in this conversation to prevent her from becoming suspicious of me. "Thank you?"
She laughed softly. "You seem surprised. Do you think you are undeserving of such words?"
"Well, I…" I hesitated. "Maybe? It's more the fact that I didn't come in expecting praise, especially not from someone from your station."
"I see." She set her cup down and leaned slightly forwards, locking eye contact with me. I tensed up somewhat, primed to run. "Of course, if I had wanted only to compliment your work ethic, I would have come to you myself. I simply wished to expand my own perspective on… recent events."
I nodded. "It has been a very… busy year for the Church. First Professor Byleth appeared, then Lord Lonato started his rebellion with an attempt on your life, Flayn disappeared… and now there's the illness in Remire."
"I have asked these questions of Cyril, as well as many of the other students and staff. What do you think of the Church's actions in regards to these events?"
"For the most part, I think they have been harsh, but at least somewhat understandable," I said, each word placed as carefully as a Bomb Flower. "Generally, I think many of my personal disagreements come from the Church's seeming directive to not change the status quo as opposed to trying to make the systems of Fódlan better for everyone." Rhea's expression soured. "Of course, there may be variables that my reach is too limited to be able to take into account," I hastily added. If the Archbishop was appeased by that statement, she did not show it.
"There are many factions in Fódlan. Many of them are very misguided," Rhea stated after some deliberation. "The nobility and their fixation on Crests, for example. Please tell me– what have you noticed about the dormitories of the Officer's Academy?"
"The commoner dorms are on the first floor, whereas the nobles live on the second," I recalled.
Rhea nodded in confirmation. "When the Academy opened its doors centuries ago, there was no class divide between living spaces. But the nobles insisted, and since many of their donations fund the Church, it was necessary to segregate them. The fact that nobles and commoners alike attended the same classes would have to suffice for the time being.
"While the Church does hold much power, making grand changes over a short period of time would cause chaos and would allow… bad actors to swallow Fódlan. Such sweeping change would compromise the continent. It has been seen in the past with the rise of Nemesis– the destruction of the wicked gods is what began the War of Heroes. Retaliation against those forces is the just punishment of the goddess."
Something about that rubbed me the completely wrong way, but I swallowed my tongue. "I see… Wait. Didn't Nemesis gain his power from the progenitor god?"
"Even change that seems to be for good can have consequences that are very bad," Rhea said. She had thought of that argument. "When handed great power, only those with great restraint can use it well, lest they descend into tyranny. Those who are not prophets of the goddess, like Seiros and the Four Saints, cannot know what is truly good or ill. They lack their foresight and their wisdom. The goddess believed that Nemesis and his allies were wise enough to shoulder such responsibility, and they were for a time. But the temptation of power is an insidious thing, especially after she departed from this world."
"Oh," I said, desperate to let this line of questioning drop. This talk of 'bad actors' was a very clear reference to the Agarthans, and I wanted to steer the topic of conversation away from that as much as I could.
"I am glad you understand. Now, have you been enjoying your life at the monastery?"
"I feel like I have purpose here," I confirmed. "There's always something to be doing, someone who I can help out. It's busy– I guess last year was a lull in the typical business of the year. I heard about the incident where one of the students killed some of the Knights to protect some of his friends. I like it this way, though… when there's always work to be done and people to meet."
A warm smile crossed her lips. It seemed genuine. "You are not a follower of the Church itself, correct?"
"I admit that I don't follow the religions of Fodra." Shamir and Cyril were openly atheistic, so I felt it wasn't too revealing that I wasn't a Seirosite. Was that the terminology? I didn't care. "Back home, we worshiped three goddesses– Din, the goddess of power; Nayru, the goddess of wisdom; and Farore, the goddess of courage. It was said that in the beginning, they made the world, the laws of the world, and the life of the world that followed the laws. Respectively. And, um, there were their children the Four Giants, protectors of the north, east, south, and west… I used to be devout, but nowadays I think if they existed in Fodra, uh, they would have helped me find my way home on the day of the blizzard. And our beliefs say nothing about people living outside of our commune." That last bit, at least, was right. But how could I not believe, when I had once borne a third of the Triforce on the back of my hand? Summoned the Giants themselves to halt the falling moon?
"I understand." A motherly aura filled the room, and I was immediately somehow even more on edge than before. "There is… something else. I understand you assisted Shamir and Catherine with their business in Remire Village."
I did my best to hide my discomfort. Catherine had tattled on me, hadn't she? "That's correct. It's truly terrible, what's happening there."
"I was informed of something from your home that you referred to as 'Misery'." I could feel bile building at the back of my throat. My upstairs neighbor was silent. "If it could potentially be linked to what is happening in Remire, it is imperative that you share all you know with the Church and the Knights."
"I would think that talking to Professor Manuela would be more helpful."
"I will be happy to pass any information you have along to her after we are done here," she refused. Katáktisi admonished me, asserting that if there were any signs of Crestwraiths appearing once more in Fodra, of course the Nabateans would want to know first and foremost. I politely told it to shove it. Obviously I couldn't tell her the whole truth. That wasn't happening. But I could bend what I knew, and what she knew, to weave a lie that was more true to Lady Seiros than the truth could ever be.
"Well, it was a silly thought to begin with," I prefaced. "I find it difficult to believe in those gods when all of Fodra existed outside of our tiny bubble, but it's affected me enough that I can't really accept the Church of Seiros either. Although if you think this is somehow tied to Remire, I'll be happy to tell you all that I know.
"Misery was… ah… the destroyer god that would burn down the world at the end of every age. It is the duty of the Four Giants, who I mentioned earlier, to seek it out and stop its path of desolation before it could find a mortal to wear it, yeah. It took the form of a mask, whispering with insidious demands and honeyed venom, trying to seduce someone into putting it on. It needs the power of humans to awaken its destructive might. But without a living host, it was impotent and useless. In order to flee from the Giants, it uses corpses as vehicles, pulling on their limbs like a puppeteer. That is why it is customary for us to make our own masks that we may wear when we die, so that Misery cannot use us against our friends and family."
The archbishop appeared to be deep in thought. "That is quite interesting," she said warmly. "I have had little experience with cultures beyond Fódlan's borders. Unfortunately, many of her people are wary of outsiders."
"You're the Archbishop," I countered. "Your policy could change that."
"If only it could be so easy. Change is coming. Slowly. And the work being done here at the Officer's Academy is doing just that." Perhaps it was, but 'slow' for an immortal being like a Nabatean was practically motionless in terms of a human lifetime. Rhea clasped her hands in her lap. "Many times, fables and myths have at least a kernel of truth at their center. This information is known only to a few, but… during the War of Heroes, there was a creature called Misery that fought alongside Nemesis. Did your people ever mention other destroyer gods?"
I pretended to think for a moment. "No. It was only ever Misery."
You have played your cards well, Katáktisi praised. You have assuaged her worries without revealing too much… so long as you do not double-cross your lie.
You know all of this is going right in my notebook so I know not to contradict myself.
Rhea nodded, her worries seemingly assuaged. "Thank you for being patient with me. I'm sure you have plenty of other appointments to attend, so I will not keep you any longer. However, I would like you to know that I truly enjoyed this simple moment, and should you ever need anything of me, you must only ask."
"I will. Thank you." I bowed demurely and stepped out of the room, the scent of pine following me out the door. That was the biggest lie I had told through that entire conversation.
Gronder Field. Claude, the scheming tactician, watched with a morose expression. Edelgard, the horned empress, walked along a path of blood. Dimitri, the hulking monster, warred with a manic joy in his eyes. Three armies. Three hopes. Two heavenly bodies overhead.
One victor.
In a horrid, metallic moment, everyone threw themselves at each other, a biting firefight full of the buckling of armor, the screaming of the fallen, and the gnashing of teeth. No matter how loudly I screamed for them to stop, that their common enemy still drew rotten breath, nobody listened. Nobody bothered to pay attention to the child in their midst. I donned Katáktisi, hoping that the additional height would get them to just listen to me, but as I came to I was standing triumphant atop a pile of corpses that was the only landmark in an ocean of blood. Every wrecked body bore the telltale marks of a Crestwraith's domination.
The Fierce Deity had spilled the blood of a continent today.
I awoke in a cold sweat, punctuated by the frigid winter air filtering through the window of my room. I hadn't had a dream like that in years. It had almost felt like the prophetic visions I had had as a child– child being a relative term. Dreams of Ganondorf and his power, dreams that solidified my terror upon meeting the real deal. It was a dream I dreaded dreaming every night. It was probably the only reason I didn't spend my entire life asleep. Even Mido's bullying wasn't as bad as those nightmares. I just felt… powerless. Like all I could do was roll over and accept defeat.
I tuned out Katáktisi's complaints about my ability or inability to claim victory. I didn't want to deal with its critiques right now. I couldn't.
I rolled over and tried to accept sleep once again.
I was flying.
The wind whipped by my skin as the clouds neared, the great howl consuming my ears. Even Katáktisi was cowed by the sound, or perhaps it was simply drowned out by the splendor of my sojourn through the skies. I felt… liberated.
Then I realized I wasn't flying at all. I was falling. Falling very, very fast.
I started to panic, whirling to face upwards to figure out exactly where I was falling from. The only face to greet me was the manic confused expression of the great moon, retreating further into the sky– well, actually, it was more that I was retreating further towards the ground. Still, its eyes bored into me, as it had for so long before Majora was destroyed.
Funny– I had killed Misery, but my dreams still wallowed in it.
A noise cut through the howling plummet. A noise I had heard before. A noise I had played before. Goron drums. Four low, then the fifth. Four low thuds, then a high fifth. I fell through a cloud, and when I came out, I realized I was falling over Termina. From all the way up here, I could clearly see Snowpeak, Ikana, Woodfall, and even the Gerudo Pirate Fortress far to the west.
The wind became a low drone– really, a deep bass chant. Simple chords, perhaps to accompany the melody that was about to begin?
I needed to land somewhere high up, and preferably soft. If I hit the water, I was sure to die. Even if this was a dream– I was fairly certain this was a dream, but I wasn't entirely sure– I couldn't afford to risk it. I thought about putting on the Deku Mask, but I couldn't actually pull out my flowery parasail without having first launched myself out of a Deku Flower, so that was a bust.
There was only one real option.
I spread my limbs and angled myself towards the Stone Tower. It was by far the highest structure in Termina, but more importantly, its main gimmick was its ability to make the sun be borne until the moon, and the moon be borne unto the earth. I think that was how it was phrased, I might have been slightly off in my recollection. I didn't exactly have time to whip out my notes and double check.
The point was that it reversed the direction of gravity. It was the best shot I had. I quickly grabbed my bow and stayed my course. The string vibrated in the wind, adding a melody to the groan and the drums. Two measures of A's and E's, fluctuating between ending on a high F or low D. It began to repeat.
Almost there…
The great diamond began to resolve, a dot of red on the ground slowly– no, swiftly– growing in size. I let an arrow of light fly, streaming towards the ground directly at its target. It whistled in the wind as it traveled. A, C, B… G A C B-A-B-C, F, C, A, C, B… G A C B-A-B-C, A…
The arrow struck true, and there was a sound that struck me of a distorted reality. My momentum slowed, slowed, stopped. Just enough for me to escape the pull of the moon by–
By waking up, drenched in sweat.
I took a moment to allow my heart to stop hammering. It was just a dream. It was just a dream… just a dream. I knew that. But why did I allow myself to–
Dark thoughts dance behind your eyes, Katáktisi noted. It is only natural to fear these things even when they are dead and buried. It is not something that can simply be overcome through grit alone.
I thought you hated signs of weakness, I snapped, although it was all bark and no bite.
I do. The Crestwraith sighed. It was inevitable that you would be affected so by the machinations of Μιζέρια. That was its way. The fact that you are still standing is testament to your true strength.
I was only able to kill it–
Because of my power? I have thought much on the matter, and I believe you very well may have been able to destroy that Crestwraith without my patronage. But you still chose to use me, despite any misgivings you may have had. I have wondered for a long time, champion, as to why. But I see what happened now. The Crestwraith paused, seemingly forcing itself through the words. It is because you were… afraid.
My breath caught in my throat. I was afraid of putting it on, and because of that fear, I used it? What kind of sense did that make?
It is not that sort of fear. You were afraid… of what would happen to the world that had wronged you. Perhaps you would call it courage– that your fear of the alternative superseded your fear of me. Either way, it was a beautiful thing. Either way, we were victorious.
I breathed out. "It doesn't feel like I've won at all, if my dreams take my back every night. And that I always wake up in the same cold sweat… I shouldn't be affected by this. Not if I was truly strong. I feel like the wheel is turning, but the hamster is dead." Why was I talking out loud?
Fool child, Katáktisi admonished. I am privy to all that you are, and I have seen what you were upon your final victory. You were–
"A mess," I sighed. Harsh though it was, it was true. I had barely known how to function outside of the closed circuit, suddenly liberated from the responsibility of saving a dying world in its terminal hours. I had been fine, relatively, but everything I had seen and done haunted me to this day.
You were. But in this battle of stability, even slowing the decline is a victory. And you have not only slowed it, you have built yourself into someone even stronger. You are a fortress that can weather the greatest storms, the hottest flame. That, I have concluded, is part of why I chose you– because in your heart of hearts shines a light that will not be denied.
I took a minute to allow the Crestwraith's words to sink in. For so long, I had viewed myself as weaker than my compatriots, plagued by demons that would never let loose their strangleholds on me, held back by my very body that shouldn't be mine anymore. But while I was all of those things, I had something that no one else did– I had stared into the heart of absolute darkness, and mustered the strength to laugh in its stupid face.
And what better way to kill those demons than to make them play music for me?
I quickly swept my small desk clean, save a packet of empty sheet music. At the top of the paper, I wrote the words 'Stone Tower Temple'. Wasting no time, I began to quickly scrawl before the memory of my dream eluded me.
A, C, B… G A C B-A-B-C, F, C, A, C, B… G A C B-A-B-C, A… key of F, naturalized.
It was the early afternoon when I saw her. She was walking towards the main gate, a look of distant determination on her features. She seemed completely oblivious to her surroundings. Granted, she always wore an expression of stoic disinterest, but there was something different about it right now. Something divinely wretched.
"Hey, Professor!" I greeted as casually as I could, jogging over on account of my small legs. I may have officially been a teenager in just three months, but alas, my height remained stubbornly small. The growth spurt must have happened somewhere between fourteen and seventeen.
"Hm? Oh– hi," she replied offhandedly, continuing her intrepid trek past the ever-jovial gatekeeper. I trailed her steps. It looked like she was headed directly out of the monastery. How strange.
"So… where exactly are you going?"
"Nowhere important."
"You're being more distant than normal. Which… is saying something." There was a problem, I could feel it in my too-tiny bones. "Tell me where you're going."
"The Red Canyon."
Zanado, Katáktisi added.
"Zanado?" I repeated. Now that I thought about it, that was the exact place the damn Salesman wanted me to go. I had been putting it off for a long time, on account of the difficulty to get there and my very full schedule. "That's– awfully convenient. I have actually been needing to head up there for a while."
Byleth finally stopped, giving me time to catch up. She shot me a look. "Why?" It was not a question.
I momentarily debated how much information to give her. "So there's this salesman– well, he's not a salesman so much as an antiques collector, but that's neither here nor there. I met him before I came to Garreg Mach." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't anywhere near the truth, either. "He entrusted me with retrieving a very rare mask. Remnants of the ancients from before the Empire was formed. And now that Kostas… was his name Kostas? The bandit guy you ran off earlier in the year. That guy. Uh, now that he's dead…" I let the silence speak for itself. Hopefully she wouldn't question it.
I was not so lucky. "And this salesman isn't getting it himself… why?"
"I didn't ask, and he wouldn't have answered even if I did. He's kinda… how do I put this? Eccentric. Extremely."
The professor is contemplative. "Why couldn't you have done this on your own time?"
"Professor, I am twelve," I said, deliberately stretching out the number across four syllables. "Nobody will even bother to give me the time of day, much less take me to the Red Canyon to poke around. C'mon, I won't tell anyone if you bring me along."
Byleth made a face, seemingly deep in thought. "Fine," she said eventually. "Just… don't report this to anyone, would you?"
I nodded without any hesitation. This was the perfect opportunity to finish my end of the deal with Caiaphas, after all. When else was I going to be able to inconspicuously travel to those hallowed grounds?
Byleth talked in hushed tones with one of the guards positioned by the exterior gate of the monastery, and soon enough we had boarded a cart bound for Zanado. I twiddled my thumbs. All was silent save my leather gloves rubbing together. I had started wearing them back in Fhirdiad, outwardly to protect my hands from Dimitri's Dimitri-esque tendencies during our spars.
"How did you know?" Byleth's voice cut through the silence.
"About your time-traveling chicanery?" I elaborated. "This isn't exactly my first closed timeloop, although it is the first where I'm not the one doing the rewinding."
The professor was silent.
"It's still difficult to close my eyes," I said, "fully expecting to wake up at the base of that horrid tower."
"'Horrid tower'?"
I cringed. I had said too much, but Termina had been on my mind and the words had slipped out. "Yes. There was… It… It's a long story. But it still scares me. Even all these years later, I still have a bit of a panic attack whenever the bells toll back at the monastery."
"You. Link. Are afraid of bells." If she was mocking me, she was doing a great job of masking it behind genuine indifference.
"You'd have to have been there." I shrugged. "It helps that I only sleep once every two days or so anyway. You'd be surprised how much work you can get done when you add eight hours to your day. Plus, I… tend to avoid dreaming when I'm more exhausted."
"Hm…"
Byleth and I said nothing for a long time. I could feel the change in inclination as we began to scale the mountain.
"How many times have you looped?" she asked.
"More than I can count. I know you've only reset a few times."
"Have you reset at the Monastery?"
"No. I don't intend to. Haven't for years. You don't have to worry about me overriding your resets."
Her expression soured. "What do you mean?"
"My power to rewind time wasn't really mine. It was the power of the Ocarina of Time, a powerful magical artifact. Obviously you don't have it, so… how do you turn back the clock?"
Byleth said nothing.
"Let me guess– progenitor god living in your brain?" I laughed lightly.
Her right hand immediately covered my left and squeezed. Hard. The only reward for my inquiry was a sickening crunch and a shock of brutal pain as my dominant hand was shattered, even through the leather glove I was wearing. I had never seen Byleth react to anything so… viscerally. Usually they were bottled up behind this wall of mild disinterest. According to Jeralt, she had always been like this, too. I must have struck a chord. Fortunately, the injury was nothing a quick Heal couldn't fix up. Probably.
I immediately yanked my mangled digits from her vice-like grip. "Farore above, what's gotten into you? I didn't take you for one of those stodgy Church types who can't take a joke."
No, Katáktisi shuddered. That is impossible! The Crest Stone of the False God was supposed to remain with the Sword of the Creator!
What are you on about? I asked, a looming feeling of dread swelling in the pit of my stomach. I felt blessed cold begin to snake up my mutilated fingers as I cast the spell.
The Crest Stone was missing from the Sword of the Creator, so why could Byleth activate it? I knew from talking with Catherine that a Hero's Relic needed its wielder to possess the accompanying relic, and that the weapon must have the requisite Crest Stone in its place. We had initially thought that maybe the Sword of the Creator was different from the others, it being Nemesis' weapon after all. I had thought the power of the False God had perhaps been strengthened by the presence of the infidel Church. But it must not be so. It shuddered, the sensation like a chill passing through my whole body. The Crest Stone must reside within her body. There is no doubt in my circuitry.
Madness! You mean to tell me that the Fell Star has been hanging out inside her all this time? But how? Looking back, it made a concerning amount of sense. And what does that make Byleth?
I know not.
Silence.
We cannot tell the Agastya about this.
Does he not already know of this… sacrelige? Katáktisi argued. She is the one who bears the Crest of Flames. She must be the one whom Ηγεμονία will serve. Fell Star or no, she must be vital to the plans of Agartha. The name Ηγεμονία caught me off guard. What was it talking about? Has your memory failed you? It is the perfected Crestwraith. A tool of domination, without an inkling of sapience to its shell.
Right, Odesse had mentioned that name back at Shambhala. I had forgotten about it, what with all that had happened in the last month or so. Something still felt wrong to me– why would the Agarthans willingly bring forward a chance of bringing about the progenitor god? And why hadn't Rhea acted when Byleth presented the Crest of Flames? I faced the ex-mercenary, which was a bit awkward given how high I had to tilt my head. "I… was joking. But given your response… I was right, wasn't I?"
Almost imperceptibly, Byleth nodded. Their expression of shock and muted horror did not change.
"Yikes. I'm sorry to hear that. Let me tell you– gods are possessive little dastards."
"I'll keep that in mind," the professor stated. If she wasn't… well, Byleth, her voice probably would have been shaking. "Are the timeloops–"
"Why my age is so weird? Exactly," I explained. "I was ten when I was seventeen, and Goddesses know how old when I was eleven. That's… why I don't want you rewinding time. I don't want you to be trapped in a body too small. To feel the same dysphoria I do."
"I only reset when I have to. Like when you died."
"I did too. And look where that got me." Byleth opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. "I had three days. Seventy two hours, four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes, two hundred fifty nine thousand two hundred seconds… before the moon crashed into the Clock Tower on the morning of the Carnival of Time, ending all things in a fiery wave of death. I had to rewind hundreds, thousands of times to stop it." I pursed my lips. I seemed to have grown a tendency to ramble. Probably because I was compensating for my previous stoic behavior. I would have to dial that back in the future.
"We would have seen if the moon was falling," Byleth said flatly.
"Do you doubt me?"
Byleth nodded, but her movements were slow and unsure.
"I suppose that's… fair enough. Believe whatever you want to believe," I sighed, hurt filtering into my voice. "I can't convince you otherwise." It was probably for the best. I don't know why I had said as much as I had. With Ashe it was different– he had no reason to believe there was any truth to the stories I told. In this context, with this person… revealing a shard of the truth of my past was a gamble I had made unthinkingly, and a gamble I had lost. I'd exposed myself to the flames, and had been burnt as a result. I'd have to be more selective with what I said in the future. At least now this would hopefully mean that the blue-haired ex-mercenary wouldn't mess with the flow of time as much now, and increase my dysphoria even further.
The cart was consumed by silence.
"I'm… sorry?"
"If you really were sorry, you wouldn't say it like that," I said snippily. Too snippily. So snippily that I immediately regretted it.
"I'm being serious."
"I know, Professor." I closed my eyes, trying to think of a way to change the subject. "If I might ask– what makes you want to come back to the Red Canyon?"
"She–" I knew the Ashen Demon was referring to the seed of the Fell Star. "-thought coming back here would help her recall what was lost. Frankly, I don't think it will work much."
"If she is the progenitor god, a thousand years' absence would induce failings in memory," I surmised, very much on edge by the fact that the Ashen Demon also had a disembodied voice living in their brain. Although if this one was a real deity… I didn't like the implications. At least Katáktisi was willing to talk about the history of Fodra, although through a very biased lens.
"She also thinks you're strange."
I coughed. "Yeah, I believe it."
Byleth stretched as the cart came to a halt. "Looks like we're here. You know where you're supposed to go?"
"The salesman is the opposite of precise. I just know his mask is around here… somewhere."
"Are you going to search the entire ruins?" she asked.
"If I have to," I shrugged. "Hopefully, it'll be quick."
I hopped out of the cart, the frigid Red Wolf air stringing at my cheeks. It was chilly, but not as chilly as it would have been in Fhirdiad. The fact that the sun was shining helped. I was pretty sure there was a word for that. Not that I knew what it was, of course.
"Let me help you look," Byleth offered. "Do you know what it looks like?"
"Nope," I said, popping the 'p'. "I'll probably know it when I see it, though. Just keep your eyes peeled, and if there's ungodly screaming, follow it." They tilted their head at my words, but I was already walking away.
For a place called the 'Red Canyon,' the rocks here were pretty brown. It is called what it is called, Katáktisi explained, because a river once flowed here, though not with water. Oh. That was a dark way of explaining it.
I picked my way through the rubble. There was once much splendor in this place, I could tell. It was like Ikana, or the outside of the Spirit Temple. Although much had been lost to the ravages of time, there was still some beauty in these derelict remains. The pitter-patter of my footsteps led me deeper into the ruins, separating me from Byleth. If I had to search every last nook and cranny of this goddesses-forsaken place, I would.
Fortunately, after about fifteen minutes' worth of scouring, I heard the whispers. It was a male voice, hoarse and desperate, a groan that cut ever so slightly above the empty drone of this grave of history. I approached the origin of the noises. It was a mostly-intact building, although its floor was strewn with debris. But it had a roof. That was pretty cool.
From what I could gather, this appeared to be some kind of meeting place for whoever once lived here. Now, its only occupant was a single man. His beard was long and hackneyed, and his hair was poorly maintained. His garb was built for purpose and had clearly seen battle, especially given the chipped blade at his side. It must have been a ruffian that had escaped judgement when the Blue Lions stormed Zanado at the beginning of the school year. His face was sunken, his eyes were wide and manic, and his teeth were chipped. Clearly, this man had been here for a long time.
"St-stay back!" he rasped, scrambling away as soon as he noticed me. He was holding something– a vaguely circular object. A mask, I realized. It was painted mostly in shades of gray and black, with a wide and grinning mouth full of needle-like teeth. Its features were somehow… off. Stretched. Lifeless. It was so deep in the valley of uncanniness that no mining expedition could dig it out. Its eyes were wide and bloodshot, the wood cracked and the varnish uneven. There was no doubt in my mind…
This was Φρίκη.
But why was it here?
It is the trap set by Caiaphas, Katáktisi realized. I had thought it would be Aγωνία, but it seems I was not correct. You cannot defeat it. My influence will prevent you from killing it properly– the Second Axiom. Regrettably, this failsafe will not protect you from it, as my host.
The Second Axiom? But I killed Majora– er, Misery just fine.
That was in Termina, where I was imprisoned by the limitations of the world. Termina is not Fodra; there, my influence was possible to supersede. It sounded like it was making that up as it went along. In addition, our bond is stronger now than it has ever been.
"Easy, easy," I said as placatingly as possible. "I'm not going to hurt you. Just… put down the mask and–"
"No!" the ruffian screamed, clutching the Crestwraith even tighter. "Those demonic beasts will come back if you come any closer! If you don't get out of here, I'll– I'll make you!"
Someone else came into the room, and a quick glance behind me revealed that it was none other than Byleth. She must have been drawn by the sounds as well. The ruffian panicked, hyperventilating. Before I could react, Byleth lurched forward, the Sword of the Creator quickly flashing towards the bandit–
And he put the mask on.
Immediately, an explosion of tendrils swarmed from the edges of the false face, smacking away the blade of the goddess. They clamped around the sides and back of his head, squeezing hard. His back arched at an unnatural angle. Was this what it looked like when I donned my own transformation mask, when I became the Fierce Deity? We watched in horror as the transformation commenced. Newborn flesh tore through the man's clothes, pus and sinew and blood coating its body like dew on blades of grass in the morning. Its legs became a mess of tentacles, like the arms of two octopuses attached to its hips. A new pair of arms had sprouted from its shoulderblades, fingers elongating into daggerlike tips. A massive crown of what looked like bone erupted from its brow. Its entire body was nothing but muscles and tendons save for the inky abyss of its face, from which the only color was its hair forged of fire, its antlers of bone, and the blazing yellowish light of its eyes and teeth. I tightened my grip on the Gilded Sword.
Freaky bastard.
"Είναι αυτό το πλάσμα που σκότωσε τον Μιζέρια?" It demanded in a screech. I wasn't going to answer it– if it knew I knew the ancient language, that might be bad. Best to not immediately play my hand. "Ένα απλό παιδί?!" My blood was boiling at that remark, but I schooled myself.
"What is it saying?" Byleth asked.
"Why are you looking at me like I'm supposed to know?" I asked hotly.
"You know more about this thing than me," she surmised flatly.
"Not by much!"
The sides of its head split open with new mouths, each fitted with a jeering grin. It opened its prime maw to speak, but the only sound was inside my head. I could feel it scrabbling for scraps in my mind, digging its fingers into my thoughts and memories, dragging every fear I had ever had into the light, kicking and screaming.
For a moment, I pressed my hands to either side of my head, as though the pressure would force the intruder out. Katáktisi screamed for me to rally myself, and that was the only prodding I needed to dislodge Φρίκη from its place in my mind. I glanced over to Byleth, and she was very obviously not having the same problem as me despite the Crestwraith obviously having targeted both of us. Was her mind gremlin more resilient than mine?
If Katáktisi were capable of making a disgusted expression, it most certainly would be doing that right now.
My brain slightly closer to being my own once again, I leveled my blade at a potentially surprised Φρίκη. The screaming was still there, of course– feeding on the fears of its victims was its modus operandi, and I had trauma to spare– but I was just barely strong enough to give it no real purchase. Byleth, for her part, was already diving into the fray, hacking and slashing with her stretchy sword. I couldn't let her fight this Crestwraith all on her own, even if Katáktisi kept insisting it was literally impossible for me to kill it!
I charged, raising my blade high and bringing it down upon a tentacle that was about to strike me. It was cut cleanly in twain, writing madly for a moment before two new ends sprouted from its place. Twisting my sword, I was able to strike it on its muscled chest, diverting its attention so that Byleth could hit it from behind. Not to be outdone, Φρίκη tore at us with its ragged claws, and I panicked as they tore through my shirt, the wound already festering and blossoming red–
I shook myself out of it. I wasn't going to let this illusion deceive me. The rot did not fade at the force of my will, unfortunately, but I could tell from the strength of the strike and the angle that it wasn't as bad as it looked and felt. It looked like, just as easily as it could tear sensations out of my mind to feed on them, the enemy Crestwraith could inject new ones, addling my senses and weakening my resolve. If I hadn't known any better, I would have believed it was real.
The very earth began to quake beneath me, and my head was nearly torn off by what looked like a giant Wolfos. Those weren't supposed to exist in Fodra! I snarled– this must be a form of Demonic Beast that Sylvain had mentioned all that time ago! If it was anything like a Wolfos, I already knew what to do.
"This thing's summoning Demonic Beasts!" I hollered to my ally, trying and failing to pay no mind to the maddening inflated pain searing through my upper chest. "If you can take Tentacles, I can deal with the wolves!" Byleth didn't have time to nod as she was struck, but she quickly rallied herself and swung back, causing the Crestwraith to stumble for a moment.
The first Wolfos was upon me. There appeared to be three of them circling me, saliva dribbling from their jowls at seemingly easy prey. I brandished my gilded sword and quickly threw a Deku Nut, blinding all three of them in a single flash. Before Wolfoses Two and Three could recover, I froze them solid with an Ice Arrow before Hookshotting myself towards Wolfos One. My momentum allowed me to vault over the beast's head before shoving my blade hilt-deep into its hindquarters. I backed off before it could unleash a counterattack, finishing it off by shoving my blade deep into its gullet, the tip piercing its skull like a macabre Lizalfos. I flash-thawed the other two demonic beasts with a blast of Din's Fire before killing both of them with a well-executed Spin Attack.
It was good to be back in my element, fighting beasts many times my size and many times my stupidity.
More! Katáktisi screamed as blood pumped furiously in my ears. With a speed that surprised even myself, I was back upon Φρίκη, unleashing a flurry of kicks on its upper torso before attempting to drive my sword directly through the void that made up its face.
But there was some horrible resistance that prevented my weapon from penetrating that darkness. This must have been what Katáktisi was talking about earlier, the 'Second Axiom'- whatever the hell that was supposed to be. I was incapable of destroying the mask. The rest of its body appeared to be fair game, probably because it was made of the Crestwraith's host. Regardless, I could not break Φρίκη itself.
I was thrown off of the abomination directly into a stone wall. I felt every bone in my body grind and shift against each other, and even though I knew that most of it was an illusion I couldn't help but think that all of it was real. I persevered– Byleth couldn't handle Horror incarnate on her own, no matter if she was a vessel for the False God. I took a moment to catch my breath, and new footsteps clamored for attention at the edge of hearing. More enemies? I could certainly handle those. I raised my weapon to face them, and…
Was pleasantly surprised by the entirety of the Blue Lion House fighting off eagle-like Demonic Beasts outside. Oh, and Flayn was there too. Why on Fodra had she come? Seteth would kill the professor when we got back. That being said, apparently she was part of the class now… But if Φρίκη saw her–
Then ensure that it does not, Katáktisi snapped. Even if she is one of them. Thank the Goddesses my upstairs neighbor wasn't complaining at the notion of keeping Cethleann safe for now.
"This is bad," I heard Dimitri mutter. "It's a good thing we managed to catch up to our professor."
"Wolves at the front," Dedue commented. "Hawks at the rear. And at the canyon mouth, a Demonic Beast."
"I think calling it a 'stray beast' would be more fitting," Sylvain commented. "But if we can't kill that thing, I doubt we'll see the monastery again."
I had to act fast before they came in here. I couldn't attack it directly, not with Katáktisi's programming. But I had an idea so ridiculous, so stupid, that it just might work.
Can you close your eyes?
I don't see how–
Just do it.
Fine.
Wasting no time, I let the enemy Crestwraith in, allowing my vision to swim with a hundred Ganondorfs, a thousand, all released from the Sacred Realm in various states of decay. They crawled towards me, hatred etched in all of their eyes, scrabbling up my knees and digging into my flesh with uncleaned fingernails as sharp as Volvagia's teeth. I could feel infection set in immediately, pure and unadulterated malice ripping through my every pore. But that was not the extent of their attack; everywhere they clung to, every available scrap of flesh and bone, became wizened– aged beyond the limits of my body, feeble and weak, even more dysphoric than it already was. The weight of the army of half-dead men pulled me downwards, locking me into a prone position on the ground. It was all I could do to keep myself lucid as Φρίκη feasted on all that I had tried to repress and move on from.
Zelda had arrived, after all. Standing above the throng of Ganondorfs on a violet crystal platform, she readied a golden bow with a Light Arrow, ready to betray me once again, as she had done before. She'd sent me back to the time I'd lost, and now she prepared to send me to the grave.
I wasn't going to die today. I wasn't about to let myself be stabbed in the back a second time, no matter who it was.
Just before the arrow flew, I threw off the Ganondorfs holding down my hands. With not a moment to spare, I mirrored her attack, my own bow pulled taut. My sword was gone, otherwise I would have gone for a stab. I shot an Ice Arrow, piercing her through the heart, but it sailed through her unabated. What stupidity was this? Where was Katáktisi? Why was it allowing all of this pain?
You demanded I deaden myself to your senses, it snarled, sounding furious for some reason.
What's going on? How are they—
Have you lost your mind? None of this is real, you doddering imbecile!
None of it was—
Ah.
As it turned out, I was a genius.
At once, I rallied my thoughts and shoved the intruder out, just enough to tether myself to reality, still perceiving the illusions but able to look past them. Shooting Zelda, after all, could only be my true intent if I believed it. The princess and the kings remained, but I could also see Byleth and Φρίκη, locked in combat before me.
The Ice Arrow threaded the needle between its writing tendrils, and at long last managed to strike the Crestwraith dead in the chest. Its torso froze over almost instantly. It was as I suspected. Katáktisi's programming prevented me from knowingly attacking another Crestwraith, but if I believed the pain and anguish that was in front of me, I could forget that my target was right there as well. And then, at last, all it would take was to shoot the illusion, and happen to 'accidentally' strike true.
You are…
I didn't have a choice but to try, I thought as I grit my teeth, the illusory pain in every inch of my body becoming utterly mind-numbing. It was barely possible to stay myself– I had stepped deep into Horror's cold embrace, and it was not so easy to reject its newfound grip on my psyche.
You are brilliant, my upstairs neighbor celebrated. Using its own control to attack it indirectly, circumventing my programming entirely… I could not have asked for more in a champion.
The deep freeze gave Byleth, who had been struggling to overpower the great beast this whole time, an opening to hit the Crestwraith with the Sword of the Creator, the sword splitting into a whiplike shape as she ruptured heaven itself with her attack. The beast was fortunately cut into pieces, chunks of meat splattering across the walls, leaving nothing but bones and the mask lying there on the floor. Or rather, fragments of the mask. Horror was no more, torn asunder by the progenitor god.
Impossible, Katáktisi breathed. Ηγεμονία should have prevented her from doing harm, the same as us. How?
Maybe Sothis being in her brain overpowered it?
You are the wielder of your world's Triforce of Courage and that could not stop me, the mask retaliated. No, there is something else at play.
Do you think she doesn't have Ηγεμονία at all?
That is the only explanation. But if not her, then who? There is no other who possesses the Crest of Flames…
I quickly slipped around Byleth and scooped up the remains of the mask, intensely grateful that the creature's illusions had died with it. I had never seen a Crestwraith broken before, and strangely enough it appeared to be made of some kind of metal on the inside. Were the other Crestwraiths the same way? Was Katáktisi? If so, it would explain why the thing always felt so heavy in my hands, but not how it felt… hot, almost.
"What. The hell. Was that," Byleth demanded, out of breath.
"I'll say it again. No idea," I replied, similarly exhausted. "There's more Demonic Beasts outside. You get some rest– the students are taking care of them." But unlike Byleth, there would be no rest for me. I tightened my grip around my weapon and strolled outside.
The students had started to close in around the building, but there was no end to the beasts in sight. "Hey!" I shouted, successfully getting everyone's attention. "Byleth is okay– we had a run-in with a pretty nasty Demonic Beast, so she's taking a break. Cover her– I'm going in."
"But Link–"
I ignored the protests, charging headfirst towards the Dodongo-sized creature waiting at the canyon mouth. I Hookshotted onto the back of a giant hawk, which flailed wildly as it tried to dismount its impromptu rider. I immolated it with a dome of Din's Fire, cooking it like a roast chicken, before jumping off of it onto solid ground as it plummeted into the canyon. Slashing at the head of a giant Wolfos, I got close enough to the scaled creature to get its attention. It howled at me, charging on all fours at a speed that belied its size. I managed to sidestep its enormous jaws, slashing at its more vulnerable side as it dashed by. The creature roared in pain before smacking me with its armored tail, and I was nearly knocked clean off the cliffside. I heard a rush of air as another giant bird tried to impale me with its beak, but I was able to grab its beak with my bare hands. Then, with a rush of strength courtesy of Katáktisi, I swung it full force into the stray, impaling it on one of its horns. Burdened by the corpse on its head, it was both unable to flee and unable to bite, having to resort to swatting at me with one paw while tearing its head ornament off with the other. It gave me plenty of opportunity to dart in and fire a Light Arrow directly through its eyeball, felling the great beast. A scale of umbral steel fell from the impact site.
I watched the rest of the class. Dedue was protecting Flayn from a giant eagle while Ashe confidently fired arrows from behind his cover, Annette and Felix were tag-teaming a great wolf, Mercedes was patching up Ingrid, who had just taken on two wolves at once, and Sylvain and Dimitri were busy covering the flank from the remaining eagles. It was only a matter of time before the canyon was silent once again.
I picked my way through the carnage back to the rest of the group. "Professor, I am so glad you are unharmed," Dimitri was saying to the now-emerged teacher. "What if something had happened to you?"
"Your Highness, our instructor is safe," Dedue said calmly. "We should return to the monastery at once."
"Yes, I am sure you are right. If we stay much longer, we are sure to be reprimanded."
"It would not be untrue to assert that our professor led us here for battle experience," the Duscurian argued cleverly.
"Dedue, you surprise me! And you, professor– I hope you will tell us what brought you here…"
"It was my idea," I interjected, blindsiding everyone.
"Why did you think that was a good idea?" Ingrid demanded.
"One of the merchants in the square was stolen from by Kostas," I explained haphazardly. "He's a busy man, so he couldn't come here himself."
"Did you find it?" Ashe asked.
"Thanks to the professor, yeah. I wouldn't have been able to do it myself."
"That's not entirely true," Byleth countered. "There was another reason I wanted to come to the Red Canyon. I felt that we had missed something last time we were here…"
"And did you find that?"
Byleth paused for a moment. For someone who always had such a flat expression, it was fairly easy for me to tell when they were lying. "No," they decided.
"Kid! Where have you lot been all this time?"
Jeralt wasn't usually waiting for us when we returned from missions, so that was unusual. Maybe it was because of the impromptu nature of this particular expedition?
"What's wrong?" Byleth asked.
"We've got to go. Now." His voice was gruff as usual, but there was definitely some panicked energy to it.
"Captain Jeralt, what's going on?" Annette asked.
"The situation in Remire Village has changed drastically. We don't know much more than that. We're hearing reports that the villagers are killing each other. Some say houses are burning. Regardless, we need to move– and fast."
Byleth nodded in confirmation, and our exhausted House did an about-face and beelined for Remire. The report had shaken me to my core. The situation has changed drastically.
Something told me that was an understatement.
To everyone who came to this fic expecting to not get body horror, L + ratio.
Review please!
DarthFlores (FF): Good things come to those who wait, don't they? I thought about putting Link in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, but it felt a little awkward to me. I also literally forgot that the Goddess Tower is a scene that happens in pre-timeskip. I was able to implement a scene involving the Goddess Tower, but not in the way or at the time that you're probably expecting. Regarding the Agarthans… well, you know what the next chapter is, don't you?
CuddlyManaki (AO3): You're very welcome!
Equilized Enigma (FF): 'Monica' is great as a hammy, unapologetically evil flunkie to Thales, and the scenes where she and Link interact were really fun to write (if difficult to balance).
Louie Yang (FF): I'll concede that. I would estimate that Byleth and Link have probably had the equivalent of a C-support by now (maybe even C+, but that's a stretch). I'll have to hand you a RAFO card on that topic, in the end.
Bad_Kobold (AO3): Thank you!
quadjot (AO3): Thanks for all the support!