New chapter, big whoop.

Chapter XVII

I was still reeling from the revelation of earlier in the moon as I carried the mountain of plates back into the kitchen. My entire situation had completely turned on its head in the span of a single day. Agartha was no longer my chosen ally– they had unequivocally proven themselves to be in the same breed of evil as Ganondorf. Not even Katáktisi could defend their actions. Now I was surrounded by enemies from all angles. There was only me, the magical mask living in my brain, and whoever I could possibly rally to my side. Admittedly, that would most likely be nobody at all.

It was nearing noon, and Raphael had just beaten Ingrid in an eating competition. It was honestly a bit repulsive, the sheer volume of food he managed to stuff down his gullet. The pegasus knight was able to give him a run for his money, though, which definitely surprised me given the, ah, size difference. Were I a weaker manlet, the sight would have definitely traumatized me.

The kitchen staff paled when they saw me and the massive pile of dishes currently being delicately balanced in my hands. Fortunately, they rushed over to help me as soon as they could. "Are they finally done?" Annika whispered. When she wasn't helping me set up ballistae at Gronder Field, she was working in the kitchens– feeding the entire monastery was a full-time job. I had been banned from it myself through no fault of my own– how was I supposed to know that one of the students would mistake Deku Nuts for pecans and try to use them in a cake? And then proceed to create a fire in the kitchen that took half the staff to put out? What a waste.

"Yeah, they're done," I confirmed. "I hope."

A bump in the pantry pierced my ears. I was confident nobody else had heard it– my Hylian ears were more sensitive, after all. "Excuse me," I said, walking towards the pantry door and all but kicking the door down.

"There he is! Corner him, Ashe!" Caspar's bombastic voice echoed amidst the sounds of chaos.

"I've cut off his escape route! He's all yours!" Ashe replied. Were they dealing with the accursed pantry thief? The same one I had spent hours upon hours staking out the woods around Garreg Mach in an effort to capture? Nothing for it now but to help in any way I could.

"Hah! You're not going anywhere, you dirty thief!" the Black Eagle shouted triumphantly. They sure were making a mess of things… well, mostly Caspar anyway.

Quiet.

"We did it!" Ashe exclaimed. "He was pretty nimble, but no match for the two of us together!"

"I guess. But I didn't think our thief would be so…"

I followed the voices to their source, and found Caspar and Ashe standing amidst an utter mess. Ashe was holding the culprit tightly.

"Meow," the thief complained. Because the thief was a calico cat. A cat had been the mastermind all along. The monastery kept a number of animals, and apparently one of them happened to decide that taking up a life of crime would be a great idea. I felt mortified.

As you should be, Katáktisi vibrated in amusement.

"Yeah. I never guessed a cat this big could sneak into our pantry," Ashe commented.

"So, uh… what do we do with him?"

"'We'? Weren't you the one barreling on about striking the culprit down last time?" There had been a last time?

"You really think I'm gonna attack him? Why don't you try your genius plan instead?" Caspar smirked confidently. "Go on. Talk it out! Let the cat explain himself! I doubt you'll understand a word the guy says."

Ashe shook his head with a good-natured laugh. "I guess neither of us had the right solution. So, what are we going to do with thiswhoa!"

The cat obviously decided that now was its best opportunity to escape, so it bolted out of Ashe's hands and slipped through a nearby open window with a "Mrowr!" Amazing.

"Huh?"

"Huh? Oh…"

"Gah…"

"Haha, looks like he gave us the slip!"

"Haha, he sure did!"

"Well, after a daring escape like that, I guess there's no more we can do." Seriously?! 'There was no more we could do' my right eye! I resolved to cat-ture– er, capture that feline once and for all.

"I'll teach him a lesson if we ever catch him again. I thought of a pretty good plan to show him the error of his ways."

"I've got an idea of my own, so I guess I'd better find him first."

"Is that a challenge? Well then– may the best plan win!"

They turned to leave the pantry in a normal way, only to be confronted by myself staring them down. "Ah! Link! How long have you, um, been standing there?"

"Couple of minutes," I said. "Long enough to watch you let the cat out of the bag. What's Professor Byleth going to say about that? Same with Professor Manuela. Gotta say– not your proudest moments." Ashe and Caspar looked at each other with tightened lips. "Have fun catcalling," I continued. "Now scram– someone's gotta clean up this mess."

"It'd be the least we could do to help out," Ashe assured.

"All I'm hearing is more time to chase that crook!" Caspar crowed, charging out of the room with a high-energy cackle.

"Caspar, wait!" Ashe called, giving chase himself. Well, there went my assistance. I surveyed the carnage. I guess I wasn't going to have any other plans for today after all.


A dance.

The Officer's Academy was having a Goddesses-forsaken dance.

They had done it last year, sure, but with recent events– Lonato's rebellion, Flayn's kidnapping, Jeritza's ousting, the Remire debacle, the uptick in banditry over the entire year… it just seemed frivolous. Then again, Garreg Mach was a school for young adults. It wasn't incredibly surprising that some time was being devoted to having fun, to not thinking about the terrible events that had transpired this year.

The ball was slotted for the twenty-fifth of the Ethereal Moon, on Garreg Mach Foundation Day, which was just a hair over a month from now. And, because of the bureaucracy of these things, we had to start preparing for it now. Fun.

Fat flakes of silvered snow were falling from the skies, slightly darkened by the ash from Remire Village. The destruction had even sewn itself into the weather. How… unfortunate. I shivered as I thrust the shovel into the snow– even though I had bundled up in some warmer garb, the frigid air was able to cut through it whenever there was a particularly strong gust. Claire was not so lucky. Admittedly, Garreg Mach apparently hadn't had a winter this frosty in at least a decade, so the monastery had not seen fit to equip us with more protective clothes. The interior of the monastery was kept warm throughout the coldest part of the year with a mixture of magic and fire and magical fire, but we weren't prepared for long, grueling labor in the brutal outdoors.

The plaza was abandoned. No merchants saw fit to sell their goods today, not even the redheaded one who claimed to be from beyond Fodra. The only one present was Caiaphas himself, watching me with that uncomfortable smile. But the only thing he was a merchant of was pain. And masks. Mostly pain, though.

"You doing alright, Claire?" I asked.

"Just great," she chattered. Her cheeks were bright red and her gloved hands were trembling. The words were accentuated by clouds exploding from her mouth.

"You're going to freeze to death dressed like that," I said, peeling off my protective outermost layer. "Put this on."

The Alliance orphan stared at me with a look of utter bafflement. "But won't you get cold?"

"I've been colder," I said truthfully. This weather had nothing on Snowhead, or Fhirdiad at this time of year.

"Link, I can't accept this–"

"Why not?" I demanded, earning a glance from the very much disinterested Hanneman. "I'll manage just fine without."

"It won't fit me."

"It'll be better than nothing."

"But I–"

"But nothing," I said. "Look, I have to go talk to that man over there for a bit. I'll be back, alright?"

Claire followed my sentence to its logical conclusion. "That guy? He's creepier than the Death Knight."

I made an exaggerated face. "I thought you liked Jeritza."

"I liked the Jeritza Jeritza. Not the Death Knight Jeritza."

"Fair enough," I admitted. "It'll be fine. If I talk to him he'll go away. Like how your face goes away if you put on a mask."

Claire pouted, crossing her arms in a deliberate attempt to ruin my day. "No? No matter what you're wearing, you're still you."

"If you believed that, you'd take my jacket," I countered, proffering the bundled-up coat once again. Huffing, she relented. I walked towards fate, boots leaving tracks in the snow. The freezing air stung at my exposed skin, but I soldiered on. This was something I had to do.

The Happy Mask Salesman chuckled that awful cackle, the laugh that was seared into my mind long ago. "You have met with a fine fate, now haven't you?"

"I made the pickup," I said. Caiaphas paused, before moving without moving. His hand was outstretched. The demand could not be more clear. "I went to Zanado and retrieved the mask…" I trailed off.

The Agarthan tilted his head, the same smile etched onto his face as though it were made of stone. "And, Hero of Termina?" Funny… I think that was the first time I had ever seen him change positions normally– at least, when I wasn't being shaken about like a ragdoll. I tried not to remember that time. "You… do have it, don't you?"

"I… do," I said hesitantly, revealing the shards of Φρίκη. "It was destroyed by–"

"What." The Salesman was frozen, a hateful glare seared into his eyes that was juxtaposed by his unchanging grin. "Have. You. Done?!"

"I didn't–"

"This is impossible!" he screamed, hands instantly closing around my neck. I would have fought back, would have killed this affront to the Goddesses for even thinking about touching me, but the influence of Katáktisi's programming prevented any such action. "You have doomed Fódlan! You have doomed all of us! I did not send for these!"

"What is the meaning of all of this?!" the now very interested Hanneman interjected. He quickly turned to Claire, who was watching this horrid discourse with morbid fascination. "You! Don't just stand there! Call for the Knights!" Claire quickly bolted off, and I could have sworn I saw a popcorn-eating 'Monica' from just beyond the monastery's main door. She was probably enjoying the show, while waiting to give me some other unconscionable order for the benefit of Agartha.

"Oh, lame Crestologer," Caiaphas greeted, momentarily dropping me like a sack of grain. "Is it not so difficult to believe that I simply… overreacted?" Knowing Caiaphas, that seemed like a pretty regular reaction.

"No 'overreaction' could excuse that sort of treatment! Of a child, no less!" I silently thanked Hanneman while simultaneously cursing him, slowly getting back to my feet and priming my muscles to bolt at the first sign of true trouble.

"And would you not do the same, were you on the cusp of avenging she, the one who should not have been killed?" The elderly professor reeled as if struck. The Salesman always knew too much– uncomfortably so; it seemed that his borderline omniscience extended beyond just me. "Oho, did I strike a chord? Or do you finally have the truth in your grasp?" Caiaphas turned back to me. "And you. Do you know what mighty spirit resided within that mask? Do you know what plague you have brought upon this land?" At once I was in his grasp and shaken once more before immediately being put back on my feet.

"What's going on here?" Alois demanded, having finally arrived on the scene.

Caiaphas paused. "You must be forgiving me, Knight-Commander! I would not wish to join those who would already hound you, no?"

"Gah! How do you– Hanneman, who is this ungentle-man?"

"I am simply a trader in happiness," Caiaphas introduced, not allowing Professor Hanneman to get a word in edgewise. "Now, broken though it may be, I have what I came for. After all, wherever there is a meeting, a parting is sure to follow." His eyes locked with mine, brimming with barely restrained violence. "Hopefully, that parting will not last forever."

And in a flash of purple light, the Agarthan was gone.

And I didn't even get any of my old masks out of it.

Goddesses dammit.


"Link."

I faced the speaker. "Professor Eisner."

"I've decided that you know too much," she stated dryly.

I picked my way down the ladder. I had used it to hang some boughs from the rafters in preparation for the ball. "Okay."

Silence.

"Where are you going with this?" I followed up.

"Join my house."

I nearly choked on my own surprise. "Professor, need I remind you– I'm twelve. I don't think I'm allowed to."

Byleth mulled over that argument with her tongue. "It doesn't have to be in name if you don't want it to. Just come to one-on-one tutoring and that'll be fine."

I guess the application I had sent over a year ago now had gotten me in after all. "Keep your friends close and your superpowered tweenage monastery staff members closer? I can get behind that." I shook Byleth's hand at this blossoming of a fruitful business relationship. "When do I start?"

"Right now," the Ashen Demon said, using her extended arm to reach into my hair and grab my ear– my very unnaturally pointed ear. She didn't seem to think it was all that abnormal, fortunately enough. She quickly walked off, dragging me behind her by the head.

"Ow, ow, ow! Stop that! You could have just asked!" I protested, quickly falling in step alongside her. So there I was, pulled into the Blue Lions lecture hall against my will. Fortunately, it was empty right now– it was a Saturday, after all. That meant that nobody saw that particularly embarrassing display.

"Now," Byleth stated, producing a piece of chalk from Goddesses-knows-where and scrawling on a nearby board. "I've taken the liberty of already examining your strengths and weaknesses–" When did she do that? I certainly hadn't consented to it. "- and they're… sort of all over the place. Your strengths lie in Swords, Bows, and Riding, while your weaknesses fall in Flying and Lances. The former isn't a problem, but the latter will make your strength in Riding difficult to properly utilize."

I nodded along, pretending that I understood a word coming out of her mouth.

"You only have certifications in Myrmidon, Fighter, Mercenary, and Archer. That puts you somewhat behind the others. I see no reason why a couple of exams wouldn't bring you back up to the pack," Byleth continued. Exams?! "I can see you falling into the Hero class…" Well, that one just sounded on brand. "Bow Knight would be difficult given the lance requirement, but some dedicated study should be able to shore that up. Actually, Mortal Savant wouldn't be all that bad, since it works with your magic– what's your spell list?"

"Huh?"

"Do you lean more towards Reason or Faith? And those other spells you have, what are they?"

She must have been referring to Din's Fire, Farore's Wind, and Nayru's Love. "I've asked around, and those fall under Faith. Is that a problem?"

Byleth's expression remained unchanged. "Yes, just scratch that last one off the list. If Faith ends up being a budding talent, Holy Knight could be a way you could go… although they're definitely more skewed towards lances, which would be a problem. War Master would be a stretch, but doable– no weaknesses in Axes or Brawling. Great Knight and Wyvern Lord are probably no-goes.

"But that's all theoretical. How are you going to slot into our team dynamic?"

"Uh…"

"Dimitri, Sylvain, and Ingrid cover your weaknesses in lances. If there were a classification that combined Faith and Bows, I would have you take it immediately– Mercedes and Ashe could use all the support they can get in those departments. I'm surprised you don't have a weakness in Heavy Armor, given your stature." Ouch. "We're also going to want to work on your Authority so we can slot a Battalion to shore up your weaknesses."

The whirlwind of words left me dizzy. "Uh, o…kay… but, like, what do I do?"

"Nothing for now," Byleth admitted. "Just let me pencil you in for a couple of certifications before the White Heron Cup, and you should be all caught up in terms of weapon ranks. And worst-case scenario…" She paused. "I can just keep using the Divine Pulse to give you as much time as you need."

I shuddered. "Please don't rewind time for any non-necessary reason. I would hate to have to kill you. Dead serious."

"You can try."

I decided not to object. Let her overconfidence be her weakness.


Ashe was late.

I'm sure he had better things to do than listen to some kid ramble about stories he thought were just local myths. It still didn't change the fact that I had to sit here waiting for him now. At least it gave me a bit of time to try and finish off Loog and the Maiden of Wind. I'd just hit the climactic final encounter at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, after which the fight between the houses in the Wyvern Moon was named.

In a flash, Kyphon's sword flew from its scabbard, I read. The knight parried the assassin's blade mere inches from the spine of his king. Kyphon's blade hummed like the wind, slashing the enemy's throat. In mere moments, their forces lay vanquished– decimated by his mighty blows. It was a nice passage, I supposed, truly speaking to the power of Felix's ancestor. Still– had the author ever held a sword? They did not hum.

Footsteps alerted me. That must have been him. I looked up from the page to see Not Ashe, actually– to my surprise, it was none other than Petra.

"Greetings, Link," she said, some hint of surprise in her voice.

"Oh, hi Petra," I responded. "Were you… looking for something?"

"I was… having difficulty with this book," she admitted. "I have been trying with hardness to understand, but I am fearing that much of the meaning is being missed by me. And Tomas is…"

"Ah," I said. "The monastery's been having a rough time trying to find someone to replace him. I'd be happy to try and help myself."

"I would be grateful." She handed me the tome, and I scanned its title. 'Fódlan's Nobility: A Day in the Life of the Wellborn', it read.

"Uh huh, so what's exactly giving you trouble?" I asked.

"I am believing that much of this book is untrue, but I was wanting to be sure– is it fact that Fódlan's nobility is truly born in wells?"

I snorted. It would be pretty inefficient to plant a tree at the bottom of a well. Especially if it was at all like Kakariko's well. "No, that can't be right. Being wellborn means that you were born well, not that you were born in a well. I guess it's a reasonable mistake to make."

Petra laughed. "Now I am understanding. Do you mind if I am staying here? In case I am having more questions?"

I glanced at the splash of purple paint under her right eye. I had noticed it before, but it hadn't quite struck me just how similar it looked to the markings of Katáktisi. Were it just a little longer… "Yeah, that's fine. Say– what's with the war paint?"

"The… war paint?" She tilted her head, in a way that was honestly kind of adorable.

I traced the bone that lined the bottom of my right eyesocket.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up. Had nobody ever asked her about it before? "This is a mark from Brigid. It is not being paint of war."

"Then what is it for, if you don't mind me asking? I think it's cool," I said truthfully.

"It is a prayer to the forest spirits, to be protected. Hunters ask the forest spirits to have safe and bountiful hunting." Forest spirits… like the ones in Kokiri Forest? No, that couldn't be right. "There are many spirits in Brigid. I am also having more marks on my arms and back– they are prayers for my family's health and triumph. Are you… wanting to see them as well?"

Why was I suddenly feeling incredibly embarrassed? "I'd like that. I mean– I would– uh… I'd like to learn more about Brigid culture, and–" I could feel my face heating up. "Ugh, this is coming out all wrong…"

"It is being alright, Link," she assured. "If it is incom… excuse me, if it is uncomforting for you, I am happy to merely speak of them for you. Actually, I am having much gratitude– it is not often that someone from Fódlan is so interested in someone from Brigid."

I shrugged, gesturing for Petra to sit down. Ashe would probably be here soon, but as they said, three was company, right? "I'm an outsider to Fodra too. If it weren't for Prince Dimitri saving my life two years ago now, I wouldn't be here. I actually came here to tell some oral histories from back home– myths and legends and the like– with my… friend Ashe. We do this every couple of weeks or so. Maybe you should join us?"

"I would be liking that," Petra agreed. "However, I am admitting that I may be unable to be here on other days. Normally I would be having tutoring with a weapons instructor, but he was calling for sickness… no, that is not the right phrase…"

"He called in sick?" I supplied.

"Yes, that."


Din's Eye was creeping above the horizon, the stars slipping away into obscurity until the following night. I liked this time of day– it was nice to see another sunrise, uninterrupted by the ghastly visage of the moon. Speaking of, it was a new moon today. Perfect.

The work never stopped, but I couldn't help but notice none other than Seteth, alone on the pier, fishing rod in hand. He was staring out into the pond, a serene expression on his face. He made a habit of doing this in the early hours of the morning, and honestly, he deserved it. Lady Rhea may have talked big game about being the Archbishop and all, but really it was Seteth who prevented the Church of Seiros from spontaneously combusting at any given moment.

Seeing him here reminded me– I had some more books I needed to return that I had borrowed from his library. "Hello, Mr Seteth," I said.

"Ah. Good morning, Link," Seteth replied, turning away from the line. "Are you here to fish?"

"Tempting, but no," I declined. "I actually wanted to return those textbooks to you that I borrowed a couple of months ago. I finally got through them all, and since you lent them to me…"

"Of course. In truth, I had nearly forgotten," Seteth admitted. "Recent events have been weighing heavily on my mind." That was more than reasonable.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked instantly.

"Professor Eisner is already doing plenty by keeping Flayn safe and sound. While you are here, would you care to join me?" He patted a spot next to him on the pier.

I glanced off to one side, adjusting my collar. Not only did I have a bunch of other things to do in preparation for the school dance, my new status as pseudo-student, and my regular duties, but I had to keep people– especially Nabateans– at arm's length for our own safety. No matter how much it hurt. "The professor wanted to–"

"I am sure the professor won't mind if you take some time off for yourself. I can accept responsibility if necessary."

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. "If you insist, I guess. Let me go get a line."

I stepped away for a moment, ducking into the small shack where they kept the supplies that sat right next to the dock. I grabbed the fishing rod and came back, but I paused for a moment. Seteth hadn't gotten himself any bait– how did he expect to catch anything? I didn't feel like going back to the fishing house, so I decided to improvise. I knelt, pressing the side of my head up against the ground.

"What are you–"

I raised a sharp finger to silently tell Seteth to not talk so loud. I could hear the low thrum of distant footsteps, but more importantly, I could near the slight wriggling of the object of my desires. All it took was the right timing. I drove my other hand into the ground, and my fingers closed around it. I proudly presented a live worm. The only thing left to do was impale the worm onto the fishing hook and then take a seat by the green-haired bishop.

"You didn't get any bait, so I got my own," I explained.

"My wife always handled the bait," Seteth explained. "I never truly learned how to use it. Besides, I am not here to eat the fish so much as to experience the simple pleasure of casting the line and watching the water ripple."

"Ah, I get it," I assented. "But bait gets you more bites. And bites give you the thrill of the challenge. Adrenaline, you know?"

"I do know what you speak of," Seteth agreed. "However, I would think that adrenaline would be something that is best avoided in excess. Undue stress is something nobody wants."

"Sometimes. Adrenaline can lead to exhaustion when it runs out," I explained. "But sometimes it's just satisfying to reel in a hard-earned fish, no matter how hard it is. Same reason I run thirty-six hour days. It's much easier to go to sleep every other day knowing how much you got done since you awoke. And besides–" I stilled my tongue. I used to not talk all that much in Hyrule and Termina, but coming to Fodra had necessitated better and more frequent communication. And now I had gotten so used to speaking eloquently that it was a bit harder to stop myself.

"And besides…?" Dammit, he caught on.

"It's nothing," I tried to deflect.

"If it is something that you had to deliberately prevent yourself from saying, it is most likely not 'nothing'."

I suddenly felt queasy. "It's not something about me that I like. I guess." Please accept that explanation, please, please

"Rest assured, Link, that I will think no less of you regardless of what this thing is." I wondered how he'd react if I said 'I forged a pact with an artificial Agarthan Crest parasite designed specifically to kill your entire species'. I didn't imagine it would go over well.

Tell him the truth, Katáktisi advised.

I choked on my own surprise. What?!

Though Cichol may be of the enemy to all humanity, the Crestwraith said, he knows that any host of a Σιγίλφάσμα would keep their cards close to their chest. Reveal one secret to keep the rest.

"That's not my concern, it's just… Every hour I spend working is an hour I don't spend thinking about… what happened. Every minute I spend awake is a minute I don't spend asleep, and every second I spend losing myself in aiding others is a second I don't spend hearing her voice asking me why I abandoned her, and I…" never have an answer. I trailed off. "It's not like I don't like helping out around the monastery wherever I can, it just… helps. And every moment I spend collapsed from exhaustion is a moment I don't spend waiting for a light that I know will never come… that I don't spend hounded by a dream of paths that will never cross."

Seteth appraised me anew. I was relieved to truly see no judgement in his eyes, no glint of perceived weakness for still suffering from these demons years after I walked away from that miserable place. He closed his eyes heavily, a twisting frown making its way onto his face. "I had initially thought your work ethic was maintained to dispel any notion of you not being worthy of being here. Clearly, that is not the case." The Nabatean stood, fishing line completely forgotten. "I remember that Flayn used to have trouble sleeping when she was younger. Come to my office with me, Link. I happen to have something that you might appreciate."

We walked through the monastery until we arrived at Seteth's office, his desk littered with half-finished documents and missives. Seteth's workplace was always so busy– not out of lack of organization, but because of the sheer volume of stuff that he had to do on a daily basis. The priest rummaged through his desk before withdrawing a somewhat worn book. It looked fairly long, but it has clearly been the subject of much love and care.

"I write fables in my spare time," Seteth explained. "I started when Flayn was smaller than you are now, and I have kept up ever since. Since my stories helped Flayn to sleep when she was younger, maybe they will help you as well. The stories in this collection are about the lives of the Four Saints, about whom you've no doubt heard."

I took the book, running a hand over the worn cover. This was obviously something that the Cichol had poured a lot of time and thought into. I looked up at him with a faux angry expression on my face. "Are you calling me a child, by saying I'm your target demographic?"

Seteth pursed his lips. "That was not my intent, but I do try to write for all ages to enjoy."

I grinned– a difficult feat considering how much of my own pain I had just bared. "Hm. Well, thank you very much, Mr Seteth. I don't know how well this is going to work, but I would be happy to try it out. And… while I think it's misplaced, I do appreciate your concern over my wellbeing. While I'm here, let me drop off those books…"


The moon was a waxing crescent tonight. It wasn't as much of a problem as it had once been– there was a time where I couldn't bear to look up if it deigned to appear in the great dome of the sky. It was really harvest moons that got me the most, when the sky circle was extra imposing and glowed heinously. There had been one in Fodra, before I came to Garreg Mach. I had been a blubbering mess until it descended below the horizon. But the mere existence of a full or even a gibbous moon was enough to have me on edge. Nights like those were the ones where it smelled red and tasted sharp, every scrap of light a dagger surgically thrust where it hurt the most. Nights like those were the ones where the floor was made of spider's skin and the walls forged from wasp's bones, where everything stank and screamed and I came out broken or not at all.

And now, with naught but a piece of paper and a quill, I could capture that unease, that despair. It was a low, droning thing, with long, wan notes interspersed with tiny flourishes of piano. Add a deep, frantic drum to emulate the quaking of the ground beneath my feet, an occasional cruel clang of a warning bell, and presto– I had just put onto the sheet the last exhale of a dying world. And yet… it felt like there was something missing. Like the tune needed an instrument that did not yet exist. I'd have to run it by Dorothea– I had tried showing Manuela some of my earlier works because I thought I needed a vocal component, but she said that all the unresolved tritones would make it really uncomfortable to sing for. Maybe her protegé would be more inclined.

I decided that, sights and sounds and smells and feelings notwithstanding, it was always worth the chance to wake up for a newborn day. Because there was always a chance that I would be the one to find the day. That grand, final, and incontrovertible day… the one where the heart and soul I had left behind were.

Navi.

Navi said that was all stupid. Navi said that her guidance was much better than anything I or the lizard bishop or the disembodied voice of the magical murder mask inside my head could come up with. Navi hated Fodra, hated the pulsating and squirming underbelly of Fodra, hated the fact that there was no uniform good and that beneath everyone's masks were nothing but insects and leeches. Fodra would consume me, infect me with its parasites. Couldn't I already see that it was destroying my resolve? Eating away at what made me… me?

Navi thought Katáktisi was nothing more than a teenage giant floating omniscient tick with spider eyes and ninety-eight human teeth. And what was I doing about it? Just… living with it?

Navi wasn't Navi. Navi was me. Navi was a part of me I had long tried to get in line. Navi was that current of doubt that ensnared me, that ragged childish doubt of my current situation, that quiet desperation to rekindle a companionship that would never return. Navi, above all else, desired closure. Closure from Hyrule, closure from Termina, closure from the real Navi herself.

I told myself, for what felt like the billionth time, that in leaving Hyrule, I found my closure. In leaving Termina, I found my closure. In staying in Fodra, I found my closure towards the real her. This fixation on the past would go away in time if I just ignored it.

Probably.

Although that hadn't exactly worked out for me in the past…

Maybe it would be prudent to return to Hyrule and Termina– at least, if I ever managed to find the Perpendicularity again. Given that I hadn't been able to track it down after just coming out of the portal, I somewhat doubted my ability. But this was me I was talking about. I had brought low Ganondorf, who had had the Triforce of Power, and Majora, who was a Crestwraith that fed on misery– something that I had had in abundance. Something that I, honestly, still did. But not something that I necessarily always would.

Hopefully.

Perhaps, one day in the very distant future, I would make my way back to Hyrule. Termina was too much, its wounds too open, its hold on me too tight. Hyrule was more tame by comparison. It was… tolerable. Maybe.

The child in me was pacified. For now.


"Hey Dima!" I called out to a passing Dimitri. "Before I forget– I got you a birthday present for tomorrow; can you remind me to get it to you before the end of the day today?"

"Link, you didn't have to go to any trouble on the matter!" the crown prince admonished goodnaturedly. "Please, allow me to reimburse you– I would hate to–"

"Give it up, you big lug," I laughed. "Happy birthday, Dimitri."

The month had passed by in a relative blur, the weeks all melding into each other. The monastery was gripped in some ethereal aura, true to the month's name. It had been… quiet so far, although the sight of the entire Blue Lions House learning how to dance 'properly' was utterly hysterical to me. I was very glad I wasn't a formal part of it, because I wasn't much of a dancer without Kamaro's Mask. Distantly, I wondered how the Rosa Sisters were doing.

The day of the ball was almost upon Garreg Mach. Unfortunately, my attendance was mandatory– they had us 'youths' managing the monastery while all the grown-ups and students got to have their fun. I had been informed by Cyril that I was going to be spending the entire night ladling out punch. That sounded absolutely riveting… in that it was going to take rivets to keep me physically present.

Some people had specific dates for the dance, and some didn't. Some people were looking forward to it, and some definitely weren't. Some people weren't all that they seemed to be, and some were so aggressively what they were at face value that it was honestly kind of mind-boggling. And then there was me, with a foot in every camp.

Ignatz greeted me as I entered the room. I had requisitioned some help from him in setting up some of the ornaments that would be used to liven up the monastery for the ball. Apparently, he had dragged Leonie, Seteth, and Flayn into the mix. They didn't seem to be complaining, at least, and I certainly didn't mind the extra sets of hands.

"That looks really nice," Flayn commented, appraising the bauble her father was dying green.

"Do you think so?"

"Yes, it is getting quite opaque."

"Thank you…" the ex-Saint seemed let down. "It was supposed to be solid, but–"

"Yeah, that's what you want," Leonie interjected before I could get a word in edgewise.

"Opaque is the goal," Ignatz chimed in.

"Wait, opaque is solid?" Seteth asked, sounding genuinely confused. "Solid is solid! Is it not…?"

"I cannot believe that Seteth von Seteth, advisor to the archbishop of the Church of Seiros, doesn't know what the word 'opaque' means," I said, barely able to contain my mirth.

Phonetic shifts may have caused this discrepancy, Katáktisi commented. Like how Fodra was mutated into 'Fódlan'. It is no inherent failing– although it represents the Nabatean's lack of connection to the mortal world.

"Opaque means you can't see through it."

"Right."

Cichol was quiet, still stunned. Flayn was giggling at the scene, at least. "Speak nothing of this, please!"

I took a seat and got to work. I let my mind wander, the sounds of the people around me melting away. My mind was stewing, smoldering, on the brink of coming to boil, as I searched for a resolution for what had happened at the ruined chapel.

The desolation stretched out above and before me, saved from being engulfed by uncaring darkness only by the tiny light of the stars overhead. The Agarthan apparatus was nearly completely set up– even though its humming was omnipresent, I still didn't know what exactly it did. I knew better than to not question it– I would not sit idly by while 'Monica' threatened innocent lives, like Solon had at Remire.

"C'mon, 'Stink', could you go any slower if you were trying?" she demanded haughtily.

"You will treat this thrall," Katáktisi snarled through my lips, "with the respect it deserves." Normally I would object to being referred to as an 'it', but I was both understanding of the image we needed to maintain and barely paying attention to the conversation, instead devoting my mental resources to ways I could potentially sabotage this plot. I couldn't bring attention to it from the Church, as that would most certainly put Kronya under scrutiny, and therefore bring her to harm– which would violate the Second Axiom.

"Why should I?" the Agarthan objected, idly twirling her sickle-shaped dagger as I dragged the last of the components into what was once the chapel's main complex. Everything was in place now– all that was left to do was hide it. "All you've done since you've gotten here, aside from that time where you got me this false face, is sit on the sidelines and complain. I've done all the work. I'm the only one between us that seems to care about killing our enemy!"

"And that makes me the only one between us that seems to care about the will of the Agastya. We are to observe and manipulate, and should you forget that–"

"You'll do what?" Kronya hissed, her fingers somehow finding their way to my collarbone. She easily yanked me off my feet, her eyes blazing with barely contained sadistic glee. "Hurt me? We both know you can't do that. You're nothing. Your host is nothing. The only reason Thales tolerates your presence is because he remembers what you used to be. I'm not stupid, Κατάκτηση. I know you're a coward– and you have been since you ran away at the Tailteann Plains." She let go, and I at least had the good sense to land on my feet.

"The fact that you call my actions cowardice proves that you know nothing about us," I said in the Crestwraith's stead. "You know nothing of the worlds Μιζέρια and I crawled through and consumed to find our way back to Fodra. No Agarthan does."

"Yeah, I can't imagine the kind of weaklings you had to put up with. Like the fella you're currently piloting around. Isn't that right, 'Stink'?" She rolled her eyes, beginning to set bricks and rubble around the futuristic construct. "I can't wait until we get this new Crestwraith up and running. I won't have to deal with you being such a little bitch all the time."

"Is that what all this is about?" I knew the Agarthans were capable of making new Crestwraiths– Odesse had told me about the one called Hegemony– but I didn't know the process. What did the ruins of this chapel have to do with it?

"Took you this long to figure it out? We've come a long way in the last thousand years– turn a couple animals into Demonic Beasts, have them spread some Havoc, the corrupted Crest Stone of the Beast does its work, and done. So much cleaner than what it took to make you." A jeering smirk formed on Kronya's features. "Goes to show how inferior you are."

I opened the central hatch, revealing the dizzying array of wires and metal that twisted about inside. My upstairs neighbor was able to identify a kaleidoscope-colored mask ensnared by esoteric machinery that neither of us could make heads or tails of, as well as a Crest Stone not unlike the thing that lay within the pommel of Thunderbrand that seemed to be powering the whole apparatus. I got a sense of a predator lying in wait, somehow. It would take something to set this off.

Without thinking, I reached inside, fingers curling tightly around the unformed mask. With one desperate motion, I pulled upwards, wires snapping and electricity sparking. I ignored the blood seeping from my palms as the sharp metal dug into my flesh. The pain was temporary. Stopping… this was far more important. The unfinished Crestwraith came free, searing hot to the touch but rapidly cooling. With a pathetic hissing, the machine's persistent thrum began to die down.

I locked eyes with Kronya, whose palpable fury could curdle a glass of milk in seconds. "What. Did. You. Do?!"

"Are you mad?" I demanded, stuffing Havoc deep into my pouch. No way was I going to just give it back to her. "Forming a Crestwraith here, in the seat of Nabatean power? It is lunacy– and it will bring the Church's wrath upon your shoulders! The Second Axiom forbids me from allowing you to come to harm– I will not stand idly by while you consign yourself to the gallows." I was making all of that up as I went, but it sounded pretty accurate so I probably wouldn't be called out on it.

A warbling scream of frustration escaped her lips as her fist slammed into the wall. While I was tempted to replicate that sound by breaking the mask, I thought it might be of use to me later. Plus, I wanted to add it to my ever-growing mask collection. Sue me. "Go away before I do something you regret! And you better not show your face in front of me for a long time, Κατάκτηση!"

Although it had been excessively difficult to convince Manuela that I had mauled my hands on accident, I was glad I had been able to stop Kronya's madcap scheme– without the new Crestwraith on the table, she would most likely keep her head down if she was smart. What else did she have to do? Glad to have put that to bed, I turned my thoughts to more immediate happenings– the ball. I remembered the Carnival of Time, and how so many preparations like these were made, so many people had come to celebrate from far and wide. I remembered after the day was won and the moon was torn from the skies, how people were jubilant and happy, really happy that they had lived to see another sunrise. For days after I left, I regretted not showing up for it. What had I missed? What had I escaped from? Would I have been accepted or rejected? My friends… what kind of people were they? Did they think of me as a friend?

So I dreaded the dance even as I awaited it, because that forbidden fruit was going to be shoved down my throat whether I wanted it or not. In the past, I had always been kept away from these functions by a third party, or kept myself away from them reflexively. Would I be able to handle that which I had never truly experienced? Had I been denied it in the past for a good reason?


The answer to all of those questions was 'this is exceedingly boring'.

My entire job for the foreseeable future was to ladle overcomplicated fruit juice into small glass cups. And people-watch. At least the place looked nice, thanks to the labors of all the monastery staff. We had even convinced Flayn to help out a little, when she wasn't with the Blue Lion House practicing for the ball. A shame I couldn't have watched– seeing someone like Felix dancing to high-society styled music would have been hilarious. While the house assignment wasn't just to dance– someone had been causing a ruckus in a vitrified chapel near the outskirts of Garreg Mach, and the Faerghusians had been ordered to deal with that by the moon's end– apparently learning how to handle oneself at a ball was more important.

"Ladies and gentlemen! My sincerest apologies for the wait!" Knight-Commander Alois hollered, stilling the murmurs of the crowd. In order to break in the ball, the White Heron Cup had been moved back towards just before the dance proper, as a sort of opening ceremony. "Thank you for gathering here on the night of the highly anticipated ball to bear witness to… the academy-wide dance competition! Welcome to the White Heron Cup!"

The ballroom erupted into thunderous applause. I shrank in on myself ever so slightly before recovering my composure.

"The competition will be judged by… me! Your humble servant, Alois Rangeld! And also… the acclaimed songstress of the Mittelfrank Opera Company, Manuela Casagranda!"

"Yes, yes, thank you!" Professor Manuela responded to the sounds of great cheering. "Oh, and it should go without saying, but I swear to show no bias to my own house. Got it? Good."

"Llllast but not least, the glamorous assassin who does all her dancing in the dead of night… Shamir Nevrand!" That one was surprising. The deadpan Dagdan Knight of Seiros was the last person I would expect to be a judge of a dance competition. I would have expected her to have no interest in such things.

"Hmph," she murmured, clearly disinterested. Ah. That made sense.

"The three of us swear on our honor to judge the following proceedings with utmost impartiality and fairness! And with that, may the representatives of each house please make their way onto the floor?

"Contestants! Are you ready to dance? And is the band prepared to play?"

I tuned out the White Heron Cup. I was sure there was a lot of very good dancing going on, but I could have very easily blown them out of the water if I had Kamaro's Mask on. I told Katáktisi not to quote me on that. Instead, I daydreamed about being chased by Deku Scrubs until my legs fell off and I fused with the earth, mouth caught in a wooden scream, never to run or make a sound again except for the rustling of my leaves in the wind.

"And… Time! That's all, folks!" Alois called. "Splendid! All three of you were fantastic! Now, let's hear what the judges have to say…"

"Oh my," Manuela thought. "I suppose I have no choice but to vote for… the Blue Lion House. Your performance was… exhilarating. My heart is still racing a mile a minute."

"I vote for… the Black Eagle House. Can't say why."

"Splendid feedback, both of you!" Clearly he wasn't actually listening to what Shamir had said. "Well then, let's see… factoring in my own humble opinion… Yes! We have a winner! And I will announce who it is… right now! Without any delay! The winner of this year's White Heron Cup is…

"The Golden Deer House!"

The entire audience collectively choked on their own surprise, including two of the three judges. I pocketed the information that the Knight-Commander of the Knights of Seiros… didn't know how to count. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Alois blinked. "What? It was a joke!" I was about to blurt that it was an obscenely bad one, but then I remembered that this was Alois I was talking about. By comparison, this was a downright side-splitter. "In all seriousness–" He cleared his throat– "Without further ado, or well-timed jokes, the winner of this year's White Heron Cup is…"

"Congrats on the win," I said calmly.

Dorothea smiled, taking a cup of punch. "What can I say? Performer's expertise. It was fun, though. Everyone did well."

She disappeared back into the crowd. I had to admit, I was utterly appalled by the 'dancing' on display. I had expected something with life, with flavor, something that could make me feel something, but no. They were just… just…

Spinning.

All they were doing was spinning in pairs like tops. And everyone appeared to be enjoying it, too, which was extra bizarre. There was barely anything to it as far as I could see. Just hold your partner and let the music command the rate at which you rotate. The music, in fairness, was pretty good. I had said it before and I would say it again– Kamaro's Mask would have put all these fools to shame. Still, I took a picture of the display with my pictograph. I wouldn't mind using it to look back at halcyon days.

I watched Claude drag Byleth onto the dance floor, joining Dimitri and Edelgard, who were already out there. I spied Dedue on the outskirts of the audience, engaged in conversation with Ashe and Mercedes. I guess nobody wanted to dance with the big Duscurian. I didn't like that from an ideological standpoint. Lysithea was standing suspiciously close to the snack table that was being manned by Claire, Hilda had somehow coaxed Marianne to join her in the center, and Ferdinand von Aegir had taken center stage with some purple-haired girl I had to assume was Bernadetta. How he had managed to get her out of her room, I had no idea. I was distracted from my people-watching when I felt Hubert's presence ever so faintly, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight.

"Want some punch?" I dryly asked the man standing ominously in the shadows behind me.

"Don't insult me. There is no subtlety to that concoction," the future marquis replied. "Although the intense flavor would make an effective vector for belladonna extract. I shall have to acquire the recipe."

Belladonna extract was a deadly poison from the belladonna plant, if my assumption proved correct. I almost didn't notice how 'Monica' appeared out of nowhere just to pointedly take a cup of punch and 'accidentally' splash it in Hubert's general direction. "You know, you could have just said 'no' like a normal person, Hubert." The aforementioned Black Eagle Student had fortunately managed to dodge the liquid, and now it had spilled on the floor. I immediately followed the age-old philosophy of 'not my problem'. "Actually, that would deter from your 'inscrutable right hand of Edelgard' routine. So never mind."

"I am content with the casting, so let us leave it at that."

I stopped talking, watching Byleth and Dimitri independently escape the throng of people. The dance dragged on and on and on. I occasionally checked the crowd for the two absentees, but I didn't see either of them again until the tail end of the gala. At last, in the early hours of the morning, it was decidedly over. I didn't linger. To my great chagrin, I was beat.

I stepped out of the ballroom, and froze as my shoe made a splashing sound against the floor. Maybe it should have been my problem after all.


I had huge writer's block here, and I didn't want to go to the next combat section just yet because I wanted to give everyone time to breathe.

Review please!

Louie Yang (FF): Monica was in the Officer's Academy class of 1179 as far as I know. She disappeared almost immediately before she would have graduated (end of 1179).

Equilized Enigma (FF): Starting off the New Year with a bang, haha!

CuddlyManaki (AO3): I actually only thought of that sentence you mentioned a couple of days before I uploaded the chapter. I was rereading the chapter beforehand and basically went "hey, why would the Fierce Deity have skin under there? It wouldn't, would it?" And then decided to crank the nauseating body horror element of Katáktisi up to eleven.

DarthFlores (AO3): New year, new Link, I guess. He still does nominally have to work in their interests, but he has seen the truth (or most of it, anyway). Let's hope 2024 treats us better than 2023, eh?

quadjot (AO3): I've been looking forward to posting that chapter for a while now. Glad you've been enjoying it!

Sparkledragon04 (AO3): Neither did I when I started writing. I tried to structure the story in such a way that people who don't know anything about Zelda can enjoy the story and that people who don't know anything about Fire Emblem can also enjoy the story. Katáktisi is the main reason this story exists, so I'm glad it's working for you!

Aemon_Targaryen13 (AO3): Regarding the Agarthans, yes– I agree with you that, as far as basegame is concerned, they're all murderhobos or assumed to be murderhobos. Personally, I think it's a bit of a disappointment. I would elaborate more on my plans for characterizing the Agarthans for this story, but I think that's nearing spoiler territory for now. With respect to the rest of your comment, the crux of chapter 16 was about unraveling Katáktisi's cognitive dissonance and putting it and Link against the Agarthan's plans– basically, the situation has changed from 'they're kinda suspicious, but I don't know enough bad stuff about them and the Church is facilitating bad stuff on a societal level' to 'these guys are awful and their plans are Ganondorf-tier and I despise working them, but they have a sword to my throat so I better be subtle about my dissent'. For instance, take his interaction with 'Monica' this chapter– he can privately believe that Agartha has to go down and he can take actions against them, but he's still bound by the Axioms and his defiance has to be framed within the context of said Axioms. It's a very delicate balance to strike, and I won't pretend like I'm doing it perfectly. In the end, I think it is out of character for Link to willingly work with the Agarthans after knowing what they're capable of; the nature & mechanics of Katáktisi made involuntary servitude a more narratively interesting direction for the story to go, at least from my perspective. I'm glad to get some criticism for my work, though!

ashen abyss 00 (FF): First of all, Aonuma outright said that that was a suggestion, not a literal definition. One could even make the leap of logic that since Katáktisi was involved in feeding on Termina (although that was mostly Majora's purview), it technically does contain the memories of all the people in it. Second of all, I'm sorry if this sounds callous, but I don't really care all that much what the developers said they had in mind after the fact? It's an interesting explanation, sure, but none of it is in the base game and this backstory for Katáktisi works better for this story. Yes, it's not what the creators intended, but that's half the fun. I apologize if my response seems cold or harsh, I just wanted to explain my perspective succinctly and cleanly. I hope you have an excellent rest of your day.

Espada-001 (FF): I did have the idea of unveiling Twilight Princess's Hidden Skills, but not quite in the way you were suggesting. And honestly? Your suggestion is way better than mine and I'm not ashamed to admit it. So I'm going to take it without asking, haha!