I decided to get myself back into the feel of Fire Emblem, so I picked up the only Fire Emblem game I've ever owned– Awakening. The story isn't all that great, but every time Donnel Tinhead, Destroyer of Worlds smacks some poor fool straight into the Backrooms, I fall in love with the game again.

Chapter V

Kneel.

The command scrabbled for purchase in my mind, and in that moment I wanted nothing more than to drive my knees into the stone floor so hard that both broke. I drew in a breath, using the feeling of air filling my lungs to stabilize myself. I would not give in to this order. Not now, not ever.

Keep trying, Katákt– I gloated, and in that very moment of derisively commenting on my victory, I found myself prostrating, my head so low that my nose was all but touching the ground.

Do not celebrate a victory unwon, the dark god scolded. The pests can and will use any opening they can worm themselves into. You must remain ever vigilant.

I rolled my eyes. Where Katáktisi had once been indifferent at best to helping me train my mental barricades, the addition of Seteth and Rhea to the metaphorical equation had galvanized it entirely. Now it had the added benefit of making myself resolute to the Nabateans as well as the mask.

While I was here, on the ground, I might as well scrub a little harder. Maybe training with the mask while simultaneously wiping up a spill in the mess hall was a bad idea, but part of me relished the challenge of multitasking. Besides, it let me get more stuff done, which gave me more free-time, which let me do more research on Fodra and the monastery as a whole.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Oh, hey Cyril," I replied. "I'm just cleaning off the floor. It gets filthy."

"But I'm on mess hall duty today."

"But I'm already halfway done. If you want to help, be my guest, but you don't have to."

Cyril folded his arms somewhat confrontationally. "Okay… well, I also need to feed the horses–"

"Did that about an hour ago," I assuaged. The other boy did not appear particularly enthused, oddly enough. "I also weeded the Officer's Academy courtyard, polished the statues in the foyer, delivered a stash of contraband material for Shamir to investigate, tracked down a couple of lost items… The wyverns and the pegasi don't really like me all that much, so you can probably go take care of them if you want."

His face twisted in discomfort. "I don't want you ordering me around."

I blinked. "I'm not 'ordering you around'. I'm just making suggestions. If you want me to help you with anything–"

"I don't need your help," the Almyran replied quickly. "Have fun doing your thing, I guess."

And with that, he was gone. He seemed mad for some reason. I couldn't fathom why.


Thunder Catherine was not, as her name suggested, made of thunder. Disappointing, but not exactly unexpected. I guess that was unrealistic. She wasn't using her iconic branching sword that usually rested on her hip. Then again, we were on the training grounds, and I supposed it would be pretty stupid to use a Hero's Relic to beat up training dummies. It was very early in the morning– dawn was only just rearing its head, so the only real illumination came from the lanterns hanging around the area. We were the only two around.

"Hello, Catherine," I greeted curtly, hoping not to distract her too much. Unfortunately, the Knight of Seiros appeared to be sufficiently distracted.

"Hey… Link, right?" she replied, dragging a gauntlet across her forehead to wipe off the sweat.

I nodded silently. I had to admit, I was slightly surprised. "You know my name?"

"Seteth mentioned it to Lady Rhea a while back, and I overheard," she explained. "Since I haven't seen you around here before, I hazarded a guess." Catherine turned back to the all but disemboweled training dummies. Then she glanced at me. "You're from Faerghus, right?"

I could see where she was getting at. "I mean, I guess? Look, I'd really hate to distract you from your work. Who knows what crimes those dummies are guilty of."

She snorted. "The only crime these guys committed is not having staying power! You, though–" She took a deep breath through her nose. "You've got something the dummies don't."

"A pulse?"

"Well, that. Mostly just the capacity to hit back. You game?"

I rolled my eyes, but took a couple of steps forward. "Live steel?"

"Wouldn't be worth it otherwise!"

I shrugged. "Alright." I drew the Gilded Sword from my pouch and leveled it at Catherine. "Your–"

Nearly before I could blink, she was upon me, moving and striking with a cobra-esque celerity. It was all I could do to put my sword in the way of her attack. I tried to move onto the offensive, but a counterthrust forced me onto the backfoot. I danced out of the way of a jab before lunging forward bladefirst, managing to barely scrape her armored thigh and escape unscathed.

Against Prince Dimitri, I wouldn't have survived that. I guessed the Crest of Blaiddyd was more powerful than the Crest of… Dominic? Macuil? I could never keep the stupid names straight.

Charon, Katáktisi reminded. On your left.

I threw myself to the right without thinking, avoiding a brutal swing by the skin of my teeth. I tried to drive a fist into Catherine's torso to distract her, but my arm was caught and twisted by her free hand, spinning me a hundred and eighty degrees as my elbow bent against my will. Next, her boot was being planted firmly into the small of my back, shoving me facefirst into the dirt. I spun as quickly as I could, but once I got faceup, the point of a blade was making contact with my neck. Catherine was grinning, though, sweat building on her brow.

"For your age, you're pretty good," she complimented.

"That 'fight' lasted thirty seconds," I argued. "Not exactly my best work. I could hold my own against Prince Dimitri for at least a couple of minutes."

"I've fought His Highness before," Catherine revealed, causing my head to tilt in confusion. "He must have been eight or nine at the time, and I remember saying– 'Look at that young maiden wielding a giant lance! How adorable!'"

I couldn't help but allow a chuckle to escape me.

"He actually looked a lot like you," Catherine mentioned. "You fight pretty similarly, too. His Highness was always more of a full frontal assault kind of fighter."

"And he was better at it than me," I finished.

Thunder Catherine waggled a finger dismissively. "You have to take into account the Crest of Blaiddyd. On technical skill, I think you have him beat when he was your age. But something's holding you back. You're used to fighting animals, right?"

It was the closest thing I could say to the truth without lying. "Yeah. A lot of the intricacies of person versus person combat are foreign to me. A beast tends to telegraph a thrust a lot more than a person. Plus people feint and scheme to get the upper hand. It's a big change from what I'm used to, but I think I've been making progress– with Prince Dimitri's help, of course."

"No kidding! Considering how fast you are right now, it's just a matter of time before you're as skilled as the best of 'em." She breathed in deep again, like she was trying to pick out an unfamiliar scent in a sea of normal smells. Her nose wrinkled slightly. "Hm," she mumbled. "Usually I can tell what Crest people have, but… I have no idea about yours."

She senses me? Katáktisi demanded, sounding for the first time almost afraid.

You're not a Crest, I said, but I was dubious at best. Truth was, I didn't really know what the Fierce Deity was on a technical level.

If you must, you may think of me as an… artificial Crest, Katáktisi admitted. A Crest passed on through choice, not by blood.

That… actually explained a lot. If using a Crest could turn me from a normal everyday Hylian child to an eldritch god capable of defeating creatures like Majora, no wonder they were viewed with such import. I vaguely wondered if other people's Crests allowed them to transform, as Katáktisi did for me. But if that were the case, surely I would have heard about it. Surely it would be common knowledge. If you're an artificial Crest, then what does that make me? I'm not a normal Crestbearer–

You are not. You are Crestless. But more importantly– you are my champion. You would do well to never forget it.

That was sweet. Or at least, as sweet as the mask ever got.

Oh, right, Catherine. I had almost forgotten about her. "I'm fairly certain I'm Crestless," I said as confidently as I could. "I don't have any records of my pedigree, and I've never heard stories about my ancestors. If I had one, I think I would know."

"I can ask Hanneman to run some tests with you," the knight of Seiros offered. "He'd jump at the chance faster than if you offered Jeritza an ice cream."

I knew Hanneman and Jeritza. They were professors at the Officer's Academy. Professor Hanneman was a recognized Crest scholar and researcher first, dubbed the 'Father of Crestology'. If anyone would be able to piece together that something wasn't right about me, it would probably be him.

Which is why I could never do as Catherine said.

"I-I think that's unnecessary," I tried to deflect. "I don't really want to know if I have a Crest. I'd be happier if I didn't."

You wound me.

You'll get over it.


I did not like axes. The weight distribution felt off to me, but I couldn't think of a better tool to use to chop up this firewood. Sure, I could use the Zora Mask if I really wanted to, but I didn't want to rely on Mikau's strength over my own. Also, it would be a lot harder to explain what I was doing if I was an adult fish person as opposed to a busybody child. Not to mention having to explain what a Zora actually was– if how people treated Dedue in Fhirdiad was any indication, they weren't exactly going to be friendly on first sight. I had to give some credit to my current tool, though, as axes were better than lances: at least I could swing an axe. Lances were all in the thrust. Maybe it was the lingering experience with the Megaton Hammer that swayed my opinion.

"Link?"

I looked up from the grueling task. "Heya, Cyril."

"We have plenty of firewood, so–"

"Could always use more in case of a cold front. As someone who came from Faerghus, it's important to never underestimate a bout of frigid weather. Even going into fall."

"I'm supposed to be handling this sort of thing. I know Seteth gave ya a bunch of stuff to do, so–"

"I took care of a lot of that last night. I have plenty of time. I'll be able to get this done faster if you pitch in."

"I don't want you helping me, Link. I can handle my own duties without you."

What was wrong with him today? "I never said you couldn't, but I'm already here and–"

"Just do, like, anything else that I don't normally do, alright?"

He outstretched a hand, beckoning for the axe. Reluctantly, I passed it to him. I didn't want to start an argument right now. I guess I could look over those books again. Where had I left them…


"What do you want?"

Professor Jeritza always sounded drained of life. I knew it wasn't me, because I had heard him talk to other people in much the same way. He was just like that with everyone. I didn't mind so much. Besides, I was much more interested in the domino mask that obscured his upper face. As someone who spent three days hundreds of times collecting veneers, I could respect a nice mask when I saw it.

"Am I bothering you, Professor?"

"My ice cream is melting, child. And preemptively– repeatedly asking will not make me more likely to trade my mask."

"Awwww…" I moped. "Okay, fine. I'll stop asking."

"Good."

Jeritza turned back to his frozen sweet. Fodraese food was so… varied. Vegetable stir-fry, Derdriu-style fried pheasant, spicy fish and turnip stew, eggs beaten to a pulp… it seemed that every day, the kitchen staff came out with some brand new method of putting nutrients into the human body– with a brand new taste to boot. Even if some of them weren't things I particularly enjoyed– like those nasty fish skewers– it was still interesting to try new things and see what I liked and didn't like.

But even dining hall food couldn't help my dour mood. I wasn't adding a new mask to my collection today. Hiding my dejection, I strode out of the cafeteria and got back to work.


Magic in Fodra is so strange, I thought. In Hyrule, magic was just… well, magic.

I had just picked up some books from Seteth at 11:18 last night. I think he was a bit surprised to see me up that late, given my physical age, and while I was tired since it had been at least a few hours, I was used to running 72-hour shifts. Besides, I had gone far longer without sleep in the past. I would be fine.

It is not so complicated, Katáktisi countered. 'Faith' magic is magic derived from base emotion, often servitude to a higher power, and 'Reason' is magic derived from human ingenuity. Ergo, Reason is strictly better.

I didn't wholly agree with that. Faith made more sense to me than Reason, given what I was reading about them. But even still, there were things about both that eluded me. Faith is ill-defined, I argued. Is it just faith in the so-called goddess of the Church of Seiros? Or can it be faith in any deity, like Din, Nayru, and Farore? Do the blessings I got from the Great Fairies count as Faith or Reason? Furthermore–

Faith, certainly, the Fierce Deity said. Their power comes from your Golden Three.

I was going to fire off more questions, but I heard the sound of the creaking of unoiled hinges. I looked up at the door to Seteth's study– I had been too absorbed in the books to bother to leave, even after the Nabatean himself did.

Kill him.

No.

"Good evening, Mr Seteth," I greeted as cheerily as I could, given the demands by my upstairs neighbor to tear his flesh to pieces and consume his blood for its power. The time before dawn counted as evening, right? Calling it morning didn't feel right. "Wasn't expecting you to get back this early."

"It is eight o'clock in the morning, Link," Seteth informed. Shoot, it was that late? Granted, I didn't have anything on my agenda for at least a couple of hours, but I was more scandalized that I hadn't recognized it. I must be getting soft.

"Oh. I see. That makes more sense. Well, in that case, good morning, Mr Seteth."

"How long… have you been here, exactly?"

"Well, I haven't left since I last came in, which was last night."

"You… slept in my office?"

The audacity! I would never sleep in his office! "Of course not! I've been working through these tomes. Thank you for giving them to me, by the way. I still don't really get Faith and Reason magic, but I think it makes a little more sense now. I bet I'll have a firmer grasp on it by the time I finish the books."

Seteth appeared perturbed, which was a fair reaction. "I suppose there are worse problems to have than a thirst for knowledge. If I may inquire, though, when was the last time you rested?"

"It's eight o'clock right now, so… assuming it's eight on the dot, I last slept twenty-six hours, thirty-two minutes, and five seconds ago," I said without batting an eyelash.

"You mean to tell me that you have not slept for nearly an entire day? That hardly sounds healthy."

I shrugged. "Probably, but I'm used to it now and spending anything less than thirty-six hours awake will just ruin my schedule. Speaking of schedule, I should probably get going. The knights just got a shipment of weapons for the armory and I offered to help them unload. Then I volunteered to be a punching bag for one of Professor Jeritza's 'lectures', there's firewood that needs chopping, I have to wake up Professor Manuela, these books aren't exactly going to read themselves, and the pegasi need to be taken care of for the morning… It sounds like a lot, but I can handle myself just fine. You don't have to worry about me, Mr Seteth." I didn't want to take up more of his time, so I moved to exit the room.

"Link, could you stay here for a moment?"

I pursed my lips, but obeyed nonetheless. It would be unwise to talk back.

"When you first came to Garreg Mach, I admit I had my doubts," Seteth stated. "To put it bluntly, you are one of the more… peculiar residents of the monastery. And you are someone with no recorded history, to boot."

I grimaced. This was not how I wanted today to go. Seteth continued. "However, your work ethic has cemented you as a valuable member of our community. I am not typically inclined to flattery, so I hope you will take my words to heart. I must wonder, though– do you maintain your schedule at the expense of your own health? No one can keep up with that many appointments while sleep-deprived."

There was silence for a moment. I stared at Seteth for a few seconds. Something bubbled in my chest, and somehow I could not fight it. It was only after the sensation left my lips that I realized what it was.

Seteth was trying to look out for my wellbeing.

And that was the funniest thing I had heard in my entire life.

"Hahahaha! … Haha… You think– you think I'm overworking myself now?! Hahaha!" I cackled uncontrollably. "Ahah, you have no idea!"

"If this is your idea of 'not overworking' yourself, I shudder to imagine what your life looked like before you came to work here," Seteth grimaced.

It was time to go. Absolutely time to go. I glanced at the door, making it clear just how antsy I was. "Look, I'm sorry but I have to run, bye!"

And without further ado, I was out of the room.


Hacking at plants was an art I had mastered a long time ago. There was a specific technique that allowed me to level the meddlesome weeds without sacrificing the goodies that sometimes hid in the grasses. Like this chess piece! One of the students in the Officer's Academy was probably playing and left it here by accident. No matter. It would be easy enough to locate just by asking around. Worst case scenario, I got a free piece of wood that I could whittle into something more useful.

In the grand scheme of things, though, it wasn't all that useful. Usually I was able to acquire Rupees, Deku Nuts, Magic potions, and even bombs. I guess they didn't have those in Fodra. How unfortunate. I had already used a bomb to clear some compressed ash in the horse paddock– although I got several gold out of it– and a handful of Deku Nuts to try to apprehend a thief in the marketplace, which unfortunately only made it more difficult for Shamir to capture them. In fairness, I could grow more nuts in the greenhouse with some difficulty. But bombs did not appear to be a renewable resource in Fodra, unlike in Hyrule and Termina.

"What is wrong with you." It was not a question.

I looked up. Cyril's head blocked out the afternoon sun. "Just weeding."

"This is ridiculous, Link. Whenever I go to do something, you're there, already doin' it."

"That's not completely true." This conversation had happened at least a dozen times in the two months or so that I had been here at Garreg Mach. It was absolutely true.

"Yes, it is. Could you just… not? I don't want your help."

"Geez, is that what this is about?" I replied.

"You're doing all the jobs to show me up. And I really don't appreciate that."

I furrowed my brow. Never in my life had I met someone who resented me for doing menial tasks for them. Granted, I wasn't doing this specifically for him, but still. I was confused. It didn't make sense to me.

"That's not what it is at all," I assured. "Doing mindless labor for people typically makes them happy, not mad. I'm sorry for taking away your work, if that's how you feel. And… I genuinely enjoy helping people." I looked down, reaching for the right words. "It makes me feel like I've… won."

"So you go out of your way to tackle as much work as you can, in the hopes that it'll make you less cripplingly alone and feed your need to be needed."

I gaped like a dying fish. I was not expecting to be verbally suplexed out of nowhere by Cyril, of all people. The jab cut deep, too– because, in a horrible bout of sanity, I realized that he wasn't completely wrong. I did have a desire to make connections with the people around me. I didn't want the chance to be ripped away from me, like it was in Hyrule and Termina. Doing as much work as I could not only made people like me more, but it would increase the chance that I would be remembered. That someone could anchor me into this reality, prove that I was alive via simple interaction.

But, at the same time, he wasn't completely right, either. I did genuinely enjoy helping people, and making others happy made me happy too. That had always been true, even before I departed from the Kokiri Forest. The idea that I only helped people for my own benefit, as accessories to my own codependent compulsions, was utterly ludicrous.

"I–"

"You stick to your jobs. I'll stick to mine."

"Don't cut me off," I snarled, very Katáktisi-like. To his credit, Cyril did stop talking. "I'm not doing this work just to spite you. That was never my intention. I've always enjoyed helping people– and normally, doing errands and favors for people is also a good reason for them to care about me. You seemed so cheery when we first met, so I thought it would be a good idea to be friends."

"Friends…" Cyril echoed. He had always seemed distant from the other orphans who lived here– almost more so than me, although that was because most of them were too juvenile for me to really consider acquaintances. Cyril was more mature than them, even with his incessant praise of Rhea.

"Yeah– so I wanted to start off on the right foot. So I tackled some extra work. Of course, that only meant that you felt I was trying to supplant you. When I noticed you weren't as cheerful as you were when we first met, I… well, I just made things worse."

Cyril nodded. Ouch.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," I said, truthfully. "I won't intentionally overstep my boundaries any more than I already have. But, um… can we still be friends?"

The Almyran made a face. "I've never been anyone's friend before. And I don't want to be treated like an outsider."

"That makes two of us," I laughed. "And don't worry. Friends are like an anchor. They keep you grounded, and without the anchor the ship's not going anywhere. Having close relationships prevents you from being treated like an outcast. Let me tell you a story– where I grew up, I didn't really have anyone my age. The only person who I could call my friend was a girl named Saria. She was really the only person I could call a friend, and it made my life a lot more bearable because… how do I put this… kids can be just the worst. What I'm saying is… I don't care where you're from or how you work. Because we're friends, and friends stick together through thick and thin. That sound good?"

"I guess that doesn't sound all bad," he admitted. "Friends…"

I shot Cyril a lopsided grin, and our camaraderie blossomed from there.


"By the Goddess!" Commander Alois exclaimed. "You took care of that thief all on your own?"

"I happened to be in the area and I didn't see any of the knights," I explained, tugging the cutpurse's collar forward ever so slightly. "It was no problem."

"Well then! I see you're not the weakest Link in the slightest! Ha ha!"

I blinked. Weakest Link? Was there another Link at the monastery? If so, how had I not met them? No, that was impossible… what on earth was Alois trying to say?

Katáktisi sighed. Weakest link is an expression. The oaf made an incredibly low-effort pun out of your name.

"Is that… really the best you could come up with?"

"That's a particularly creative way of telling me it wasn't funny," Alois chuckled. Apparently, he got this sort of response a lot. Although, if he kept getting them, and knew he kept getting them, one would think he would change his jokes.

"Okay– let's back up. I'll give you thirty seconds to think of a better joke."

"Okay, um– Hang on! That can't be right! Did you just ask to hear another one? Of your own volition?"

"You get to make a better joke," I explained casually, "and I get an opportunity to think of you slightly less lowly."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Ahem."

"You didn't even clear your throat!" Alois objected. "You just said the word 'ahem'!"

"You think I'm not aware of that, old man?"

"'Old man'?! Well, I suppose everything seems old to you. Now–" the Knight Captain cleared his throat. "I'll be taking this criminal off your hands. Perhaps you should teach that merchant… the tools of our trade? Huh?"

Oh my Goddesses. That was so bad. But… why was I smiling?

"That was… so horrifically bad… that it somehow defied all reason and circled around to being funny again."

A wide, slightly confused grin surfaced on Alois' face. "Haha! My comedic genius strikes again!"


I had never really interacted much with the students of the Officer's Academy. I was going to change that next year, when Dimitri and Dedue were enrolled, but as it stood I had little interest in interacting with the undergraduates. It was convenient, then, that they rarely interacted with me. There were always exceptions, though. Like today.

Professor Jeritza was horrifyingly good with a sword. He had a speed and dexterity unrivaled by any of the other staff at the Officer's Academy or Knights of Seiros, excluding maybe Catherine and Shamir, and he always went straight for the throat. It was like his blade was merely an extension of his arm, which I could say for my own weapons, to my pride. What I couldn't claim was expertise with so many types of weapons. Sure, I could handle myself around one to two handed swords, shields, bows, boomerangs, bombs, slingshots, and I guess the Megaton Hammer was kind of like an axe. But I had to pale in comparison to von Hrym's pure expertise with any sharp object put into his hands.

As such, Jeritza normally served as a high-tier weapons instructor, for people who sought more in-depth training than what others could allow. But there were a fair number of lower-level students who were just trying to learn the basics who got saddled onto him anyway. That was where I came in. I could serve as a glorified training dummy, gifted with the ability to punish obvious mistakes. Meanwhile, I benefited from learning real combat theory for the first time– all of my knowledge was improvisational, barring the Terminian sword training courses.

My current opponent's grip on his sword was too tight. There was such a thing. As he committed to a painfully hesitant thrust, I was able to easily sidestep the attack and bat the training sword out of his hands.

"Your hands are too stiff," I said calmly. "You need to be putting your energy into your swing. Grasping the hilt like you are will waste your strength."

The boy loosened his hold, taking a moment to adjust his spectacles. "Like this?"

"Exactly," I lauded. "Now, fix your stance. Keep your feet shoulder's width apart. Otherwise–" I leaned forwards and pushed on his shoulder, which I could barely reach. The force of it was enough to disrupt his balance. "You'll fall over. Got it?"

"G-got it."

"Good. Again."

He thrust at me again, much more fluidly than last time. There was still a hell of a way to go, but he was improving. Slowly. I backflipped out of the danger zone and–

And something fleshy coiled around my foot.

Blood rushed to my head, partially because I was upside down and mostly because of embarrassment. Because, to my chagrin, Professor Jeritza was holding me by my ankle.

"This is a poor tactic," the instructor commented, "but your advice is not completely wasted. I will take the rest from here."

"I try," I replied cheerily. "Can I be let down now?"

Perhaps I should have chosen my words better. Jeritza dropped me like a bag of bricks, and I landed directly on my cranium. I'd suffered worse, though, so I was back on my feet in no time.

"Boy."

I turned around.

"For your age, you are… adequate."

"Aww, that's adorable."


How long had I been here, at Garreg Mach? It hadn't felt too long, but I realized with some level of surprise that it was already winter, and had been for a while. I could count ten seconds on the dot without breaking a sweat, but the passage of time in the long-term always surprised me. It was a bit embarrassing to admit, as time was literally the most predictable thing in the world.

"Good morning, Link," Seteth greeted, shaking me from my doldrums.

"Good morning to you as well, Seteth," I greeted back. "Anything I can do for you today?"

"No, that is quite alright," Seteth said, running a hand through his verdant hair. He seemed to be in an unusually good mood today. "I merely wanted to inform you that my younger sister, Flayn, will be coming to live at the monastery with us near the end of the year. Please treat any request from her as you would a request from me."

"Of course," I said, dread clawing at my spine that another Nabatean was coming into close contact with me. "I look forward to meeting her."

I could feel Seteth's protective streak flaring up. I pretended not to notice. It was obvious that this 'Flayn' was someone Seteth cared about very much. "Now that I am thinking about it, I believe there is something I would like to ask of you."

"And that is?"

"Take the day off," he said, completely blindsiding me. It was only ten twelve and sixteen seconds! "I understand your feelings regarding your schedule, but your wellbeing is more important than any such appointments."

"I– but— I'll try, Seteth."

Seteth nodded, an easy grin on his face, and exited the area.

Listen, Katáktisi castigated. I do not approve of the relationship that currently exists between yourself and the Nabatean. You give your trust too easily.

Seteth has done nothing to earn my distrust, I retorted. Neither has Rhea, nor any of the Knights of Seiros. I think you just need to accept that Seteth isn't the spawn of Demise, and I can be as close to him as I darn well please.

Do not burn yourself upon its flame by getting too close.

A hand that lingers in fire is not burned twice. If Seteth proves to be a threat, then I will treat him as such. But it has been many months, and he has had plenty of opportunities to harm me– yet he never has. Face it, Katáktisi– you're wrong.

Do not question me, foolish boy. You know not the injustices the Nabateans have wrought upon this world. The Fell Star tore down the old pantheon and installed herself as the sole god. Her children do the same. The bricks of this church are built with a mortar of lies upon a foundation of treachery. A foundation of deicide.

If you're so confident, take control and make it abundantly clear how much you hate them.

The urge to don the mask did not come. I would deprive you of a chance to grow. When you use my might to crush the thieves, you will do so willingly.

I rolled my eyes. Whatever you say.


I paused as I exited the library. Wait.

What was I doing?

You were just going to retire for the night, Katáktisi informed.

When did I even get here?

You must be out of sorts. Rest.


The sun was warm on my skin. I could feel the grasses against my flesh, swaying back and forth in the cool breeze, gently tickling the parts of me not shrouded by my clothes. I breathed in, I breathed out. I couldn't help but feel slightly discomforted by the fact that my sword and shield were obviously not strapped to my back like they usually were. I had long since grown used to their familiar weight, and the sense of security that they offered, even when sheathed. Sure, I had learned to make do without in Fhirdiad, but at least then I knew they were in my pouch, which was also absent. I opened my eyes. Din's Eye was directly overhead, wreathed in many ringlike clouds like the peak of Death Mountain. It was mostly obscured by the large tree, blocking some sunlight from reaching me.

I sat up. The tree was sitting atop a single hill, rising above the landscape like a tick swelling with blood. All around me was an infinite grassy plane, blades of grass undulating slightly in the wind. It stretched out as far as the eye could see and maybe even further. I felt dwarfed by its sheer size.

I was, of course, completely aware that this was a dream. But it wasn't immediately subjecting me to constant agony, so I elected to simply enjoy this little departure from reality while I still could. I knew where I was, certainly. This was the interior of the moon. But there was nothing here. No Tatl, no purpose, no masks. Just me, the sun, and the wind. I would take these moments of respite when I could get them. Heck, there weren't even any–

"Ah… nice weather… isn't it?"

I groaned. Speak of the devil. I turned to face the little gremlin. It was the face of the Happy Mask Salesman, and there was no mask of Odolwa, Goht, Gyorg, Twinmold, or Majora obscuring its features. This is what I got for letting my guard down…

"Masks…" the child said, contemplative. "You have… a lot. You, too… will you be… a mask salesman?"

I never wanted to be compared to that creepy bastard for as long as I lived. Just the memory of being shaken about like a ragdoll was more than enough to hate him. "No."

"Then… I'll play with you," the moon child decided. "So.. the masks… give me some…"

Well, that was just the darndest thing. "I don't have any masks. Sorry."

The not-Salesman cocked its head. "You're… wearing one."

Well, this was unexpected. "I'm… not?"

"You're lying… it's a nice mask… I want it."

I delicately touched at my own face. Lo, there was a mask there after all. How had I not noticed it? "Guess you're right," I confessed. "Here, you can have it. Let me just take it off…" I gripped both my temples and pulled. The mask stayed put. "This thing's pretty tight." I pulled hard. I pulled harder. I pulled yet harder. The mask stubbornly remained in its place. But with one powerful yank, in a spray of blood, the mask came free. Fleshy and stubborn, I presented the false face to the youth afore me, the wind stinging my now-exposed muscle. It held the torn skin like it was made of gold leaf, tilting what remained of my face this way and that, catching the light of the sun as it slowly dimmed.

"Thanks… You, you're a nice person… aren't you? Hide-and-seek… let's play. Alright… I'll… hide…"

And with that, it was gone. I ignored the fluids dripping from my face as I turned my gaze upward. The sun had disappeared entirely, leaving the entire area consumed with darkness. The voices were there, whispering their scathing remarks in my ear, and no matter how hard I pressed my hands against my ripped-apart ears, they did not abate.

"Your friends… what kind of… people are they? I wonder… Do those people… think of you… as a friend?"

"What makes you happy? I wonder… what makes you happy… does it make… others happy, too?"

"The right thing… what is it? I wonder… if you do the right thing… does it make… everyone… happy?"

"Your true face… what kind of… face is it? I wonder… the face under the mask… is that… your true face?"

"You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?"

"Regain your lost time… where you are supposed to be… the way you are supposed to be…"

"Everyone else has gone away, haven't they?"

"These toys are too much for you! I demand you return them to me!"

"We shall greet the morning… together."

"I entreat ye… Navi… good… bye…"

All I could taste was the iron of my own blood, seeping down my face and into my mouth. I clenched my fist, before rearing up and driving my hand into the middle of my chest, tearing through flesh and bone, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the slippery object. With a triumphant tug, I yanked my– well, it wasn't my heart so much as a perfectly spherical stone engraved with long, slashing marks. What on earth was a rock doing in my torso? Whatever it was, I tore it from my chest. It was glinting in the droll illumination of the twin angry red eyes of the moon high above, hurtling down, down, down. There wasn't anything I could do about that, so I ignored it, instead focusing all my attention onto the stone, coated in sinuous graying veins, pulsating with gnarled, hateful energy. I squeezed with all the might that was left in my bleeding, broken body, crushing the object to dust. All sensation left me, including the boiling pain in my face, and I fell to the ground faceup, capable of doing nothing more than watching as the moon made its terminal descent.

I woke up, the memory already seeping out of my mind like water through a sieve. When I tried to stand, however… my limbs did not respond. I started to panic– was this some kind of out-of-body experience? I had had my limbs fall asleep on me from time to time if I slept on them funny, but there was none of the numb tingliness that came with that present at this moment.

Worry not, Katáktisi said. Give it a moment–

Blessed feeling returned to my extremities, and then the rest of my body. I sighed as I stood, stiff from sleep, and stretched. I tried to remember last night. One instant, it had been midnight and I was ascending to the second floor of the monastery. The next, it was now. To be exact, it was eight o'clock in the morning. I tried to get my bearings for a moment, but shook it off as little more than post-sleep delirium.

Not exactly, the mask explained. Around midnight last night, I took your body for a spin.

I was stunned. Wh– why?!

I felt… cooped up in this mask. I have for a long time. In addition, I wanted to test if anyone could sense my unfiltered presence. Make no mistake– I was seen by neither humans nor Nabateans.

But why don't I remember any of this?

I removed your memory of it so you would stop complaining.

I contemplated showing Katáktisi exactly how much I could complain, but then I realized that if it could erase my memory before, surely it could do it again. And it was better to know what happened than what didn't. I'll let it slide. This time. But I never want you to do this again. Do I make myself abundantly clear?

Clear as crystal, my champion.

That would have to do. I got back to work.


The greenhouse was all but empty today. I found an empty patch of soil and placed a couple of Deku Nuts in the earth, before burying them. I wanted my supply to be renewable, but the soil of Fhirdiad had always been nutrient-poor. I contemplated also planting a couple of hydromelons, but I shot that idea down. I didn't want them to choke out every other plant here. Who knew how rare some of them were. Deku Nuts, on the other hand, did just fine in this sort of dirt and didn't take so many resources that they out-ate every other plant in a twenty-meter radius. All they really needed was light, water, and low concentrations of clay and sand. There was the minor caveat of the fact that they were going to grow into Deku Babas and probably bite someone's face off, but that sounded like a future me problem.


"Oh, happy…. Very happy, biiiirthdaaaay to meeeee…"

Today was the 19th of the Pegasus Moon, which marked the one-year anniversary of my presence in Fodra. I had decided to treat it like my birthday. Ergo, I could say with absolute certainty that I was twelve years old. Five more to go before I got to not have debilitating physical dysphoria. It was very irritating, actually. I would consistently think that my limbs were longer than they actually were, and grasp at empty space thinking I could reach something. Whenever I woke up, I always felt this nagging glumness that my body wasn't the way it was supposed to be, how I wanted it to be, how it had once been. The worst part was that there was nothing I could do about it. It was driving me up the wall.

For the first time in a long time, I wondered how Navi was doing. Not where she was– I had stopped asking about that, for my own wellbeing– but how she was. If she was happy, wherever she had ended up. I liked to think that she was. But that was enough of that. Today was my birthday and I was going to ask the dining staff to make me a slice of whatever that 'cake' thing was.

"You are Link, yes?"

"That's right," I ascertained. "What do you need, Hanneman?"

"I heard from Catherine that you potentially have a previously-unknown Crest," the old professor revealed. Dammit, Catherine. "I summoned you here so that I could look into it."

"I told Catherine this, and I'll tell it to you too– I know I don't have a Crest," I said. I wasn't technically wrong– Katáktisi wasn't a Crest, it just functioned like one. Sort of. A little. Maybe. "I've never heard any stories of ancestors with extreme power."

"Perhaps that ancestor has merely been lost to the annals of time," Hanneman countered. "In addition, Catherine is not usually wrong about these sorts of things." The father of Crestology got up from his desk and stepped over to the other side of the room. After rummaging around on a shelf for a while, he came back with some sort of strange apparatus covered in dials and lights, dominated by a large circular purple screen. "Just put your hand up to this device here. It will display the pattern that corresponds to any given Crest."

Shoot, this was really bad. What if it picked up Katáktisi?

Do not falter, there is little to worry about. Stall for time, and the odds are that his aging brain will let you slip away without issue.

That's kind of…

A victory is a victory.

Katáktisi, I would literally be running away. That is the opposite of victory.

Open your mind. Victory is all in how it is defined. In retreating, we subvert his moment of victory. And since our aim is merely to prevent his victory, in this we are victorious.

"How does it work?" I asked, trying my very hardest to sound remotely invested.

"Why, I'm glad you asked! You see, the arcanomagnetic energies…"

Well, I sure was stalling for time. Hanneman was so wrapped up in his explanation that I don't think he even realized that I wasn't paying attention, or that the subject matter flew high enough over my head that I wouldn't have understood what he was saying even if I was. I ever-so-slowly walked backwards towards the door.

"Hanneman!"

There! A word I could understand! I turned back towards the door to see that Professor Manuela was standing there, looking slightly less disheveled than usual.

"Hello, Manuela," Hanneman drawled. "What has brought you all the way down to this side of the hallway?"

"Don't start with that," she snapped. "Especially to someone who can't even keep track of his own students. Monica was supposed to meet me for a conference–"

"How am I supposed to know where all my students are at all times?"

"Of course you wouldn't, with all your focus on Crests–"

"My dedication to studying Crests may be great, but it is rivaled by your fervor for a tall glass of wine–"

"Hanneman–"

I decided that now was a good time to make myself scarce, especially if a real argument was about to break out. But I pocketed one tidbit of information before I left.

Monica von Ochs, one of the current students of the Academy, was missing.

And nobody knew why.

The happy birthday song is to the tune of the Nabatean lullaby. You know the one.

Review please haha. Just as a heads up- FF net sometimes eats reviews and doesn't display them to me, so if your review doesn't show up here that's probably why.

HisyamAS (FF): It probably smelled worse in Fhirdiad central square than a dozen rotten eggs dropped in a vat of vinegar.

Lix231 (FF): Yeah, I definitely nerfed Link a lot in this story relative to the other characters. Permit me to explain my reasoning– A) Link is still reeling from his physical dysphoria from his time spent as an adult, which is definitely still messing with him. I touch a bit more on this later in the story. Plus, in chapter 2 he's still recovering from the hypothermia thing from chapter 1. B) Narratively, I want him to be on a similar power level to the rest of the cast so that they're not invalidated by Link existing. When Link wins, I want him to win because he thinks outside the box, at least until later in the story when he comes into his own as a technical fighter. That better befits his character and his experience doing dungeons and puzzle solving, especially since fighting in Zelda basically *is* a puzzle– what do I use to make you vulnerable? FE doesn't really have that. I'd argue that Link is still a very strong fighter, but that his skill set is currently limited to things that don't fight at all like anyone in Fódlan does. Without those items, Link is reduced to a couple stilted jabs and slashes. C) Link is also intentionally nerfing himself in those scenes by not using his various items, in the interest of improving his technical skill and keeping the playing field level. Would Link have ever had a shot of beating Ganondorf without the Light Arrows? Twinmold without the Stone Mask? D) Link is able to hold his own against Dedue fairly well, and it takes Dimitri literally throwing Felix at him to stop the fight. Given enough time, Link could probably best Dedue on a good day at Chapter 2. He's almost able to beat Dimitri by the end of Chapter 3 while only using a single Deku Nut. I understand that my decision regarding Link's power level isn't exactly popular, but I hope all of this helps to explain my perspective. Don't worry– come the timeskip, he's going to be able to go toe to toe with [CONTENT EXPUNGED] and absolutely wreck house.