Hi all! I just want to take a quick moment to thank each and every one of you who's read this story, and especially to those who have dropped favorites/follows, kudos, comments, and reviews so far. As of this chapter, we have reached 138 combined reviews and comments, which is an average of 8.1 reviews per chapter, and a number I didn't think we'd hit until at least post-timeskip when I started uploading these chapters. I'll admit that to say something along the lines of 'I never thought so many people would react so strongly to my work' wouldn't be entirely truthful– I knew from the moment I started writing, deep down, that I was onto something special. I just completely underestimated my own ability to make it a reality, and I'm deeply grateful to everyone who's stuck around for the ride. Now! Let's write this thing!
Chapter XVIII
Clank. Clank. Clank.
Alois' boots slammed into the ground as he sprinted into the entrance hall of the monastery. "Captain! Captain! Where are you?" He said breathlessly. He was looking for Captain Jeralt? What had happened? Actually, now that I thought about it, Alois was the captain now, and had been for… however long Jeralt Eisner had been gone. Twenty years? Fifteen? Maybe he only called Jeralt 'Captain' out of habit. Alois spied Byleth on the other side of the hall, who had been drawn in by the commotion. "Hey, Professor, have you seen your old man?"
Byleth shook her head no.
"Too bad," the Knight of Seiros replied. "I guess it'll just have to be–"
"I'm back," the rough voice of the ex-mercenary in question cut into the conversation. "Sorry for the delay, my last mission took longer than expected." I guessed that explained why he wasn't at the dance.
"Captain! Thank goodness you're here– there are reports of Demonic Beasts near the chapel!" First he had my interest, but now he had my attention.
"Nonsense. I haven't heard anything about the monastery's walls being breached," stated the reasonable Jeralt.
"That's why I'm heading there now, to see what's really going on. You'll join as well, won't you?"
"Of course. We're both sworn to protect this place," her father assured.
"Where did they come from?" asked his daughter.
"It's odd… just before they appeared, someone saw a number of students headed towards the chapel. They were acting strangely, as though they weren't in their right minds. Shortly after, Demonic Beasts started to appear, one after another." My blood ran cold. It turned out 'Monica' could still pull something, even if making a new Crestwraith was hopefully off the table. But why would she compromise herself like this?
"Are the students safe?"
"The students…" Jeralt thought. "There's no way the Demonic Beasts got in from the outside. But none of that matters now– we need to act. Go summon your students. Dammit… I wanted to talk to you about something important, but there's no time." He grimaced. "There's never any damn time, but this is much more urgent, so it can hold for now. I'll meet you there." And there he went, towards the point of interest. I had already left, quickly rounding up the Lions whose paths I happened to cross. By the time we were all organized and headed to the site, only a couple of minutes had passed.
I could hear the sounds of chaos from decently far away. Screams and snarls and the grinding of bone on bone. "There really are Demonic Beasts here… They're emerging from the chapel!" Jeralt called from atop his horse. I counted four of them, which honestly wasn't a ton. We had faced far worse at Zanado, and they didn't look… unique enough for it to be the doing of a Crestwraith like Φρίκη or, presumably, Aγωνία. Which meant that Caiaphas wasn't here, either. "I'll head that way. The rest of you, protect the students who weren't able to get away!" And with that, he was gone, galloping forward towards the ruins of the chapel itself.
I quickly sprinted leftwards, ignoring Byleth's strategizing with the rest of the Blue Lion house. I remembered what had happened with the Death Knight in the Holy Mausoleum all too well, and I knew that the professor's plans were usually good ones, but there was no time for that now. Peoples' lives were at risk, and I had fought great beasts like this before with relative ease. Plus, I would have to do something about whatever 'Monica' was plotting; something had to be done about whatever I had helped to create. A Beast had cornered a male student and was taking swings as it pleased. Not on my watch.
I wished I had the Bunny Hood. I could have closed the distance faster than it could react and ended the fight before it could have begun. Unfortunately, it had enough time to notice my approach and tried to smack me aside with its tail. Given that I wasn't born yesterday, I easily leapt over the attack and darted forward, scoring a jumping slash on its slightly less armored flank.
It was then that I came to an epiphany.
This thing was just a slightly smarter Dodongo. It could even breathe fire! How adorable.
That being said, if it shared its strengths, it most likely shared its weaknesses too. So, without any regard for my own life, I dove underneath a swipe and shoved a live explosive directly into its mouth.
It turned out to not be that much smarter than a Dodongo. In an explosion of dark magic and giblets, the carapace disappeared into a vile cloud of ash, which quickly dispersed into the atmosphere. All that was left of the Demonic Beast was a bloody scale of umbral steel, a crater, and tatters of clothing. Clearly Officer's Academy clothes. Had it… eaten a student? My gut said no before Katáktisi was able to. But if that wasn't why, then–
Oh no.
These Demonic Beasts… were people. This must have to do with the 'mutated Crest Stone of the Beast' that 'Monica' mentioned earlier. But she had said it would be used on animals, not human beings. Perhaps in her mind, they were one and the same. Just another crime to add to the ledger.
"Thank you!" the formerly cornered student said breathlessly. "But my friends who couldn't get away… are they okay?"
"Don't worry about that," I said, biting back the regret in my voice. "Get out of here before more of them come for you. Got it?"
He nodded and made haste to escape. One less problem to worry about.
I pivoted to face my next lumbering foe, but found that the others had already summarily dealt with them. Saved me some work, I supposed, but I was definitely the only one who had handled an entire Demonic Beast all on my own. I couldn't help but wear that as a badge of pride.
"There isn't a trace of evidence to be found in the chapel," I heard Jeralt comment. I passed Felix and Sylvain on my way to the Knight-Commander. They were arguing about something. I didn't bother to listen. "This must have something to do with Remire. Perhaps–"
"Wait!" a female voice cut in. I spied a shock of bloodred hair. I identified it as 'Monica' as I moved to stand alongside Byleth about eight meters away. If Jeralt hadn't been able to find anything, it must have already been moved out. Crisis averted?
"Huh? Another student?" Jeralt sighed, dismounting from his steed. "Run along now."
"Thanks for all your help, sir!" she said cheerily, trotting off in our direction. Her hand drifted to her side. Fingers closed around something. Jeralt's back was turned.
This really couldn't end well.
The moment I thought that, the sickle-shaped dagger pierced the Blade Breaker's spine. A shocked gurgle escaped his lips as he slumped slightly, still standing. A gasp tore itself from Byleth's throat, but we were both too stunned to move. That could have been me, if I was just a little bit slower when 'Monica' and I had first met.
"You're just a pathetic old man," 'Monica' snarled happily, yanking the knife out of his back in a spray of blood. Her victim sank to his knees. "My brilliant plan's already ruined– how dare you try to stop me from salvaging something from it… you dog."
I had never seen the professor this… angry before. Especially in the beginning of the year, she always had this empty expression glued to her face. I chalked it up to her being slow to trust, but… I wasn't so sure. Even now, her expression was a lot less than if my dad was just backstabbed in front of me. When the Great Deku Tree died, I hadn't been able to look at my own reflection for days out of pure shame and fury.
A wave of nausea passed over me as Byleth yanked at the hands of time. We found ourselves just a couple of seconds earlier, but what critical seconds they were.
"Run along now," Jeralt was saying again. His daughter was already drawing the Sword of the Creator. Obviously she intended to put a stop to this directly. The Second Axiom shook my head for me, my fingers curling around the pommel of the blade. All I got for my troubles was a look of mild confusion and the sensation of the hilt being wrenched from my hands.
"Thanks for all your help, sir!" 'Monica' said cheerily, trotting off in our direction. Her hand drifted to her side. Fingers closed around the weapon. Jeralt's back was turned. The tendrils of a ruptured heaven shot closer. Three meters. Two. Half.
In a flash of light, the tip of the blade bounced off a violet shield and slithered back into its coiled state. Between the officially-stabbed Jeralt and officially-outed 'Monica' stood an imposing figure covered in ceremonial black and gold armor. His flesh was the color of bone, and his hair was even whiter. He had no pupils. It most certainly wasn't Solon– Solon was a mountain of wrinkles. Who was this new Agarthan? And how had he interfered with the Divine Pulse?
Byleth reared back for another strike against the demon. I quickly grabbed her upper arm and tugged aggressively. She would be made quick work of if she dared to stand against… whoever this was. Clearly, he were possessed by obscene and putrid power.
'Monica' turned from her task. She seemed surprised. "Huh? What are you doing here?"
"You must survive," he stated coldly. A chill coursed down my spine as I recognized that voice. This was the Agastya, the one who bore the guise of Volkhard von Arundel. There was no denying it. "Merely because there is still a role that I require you to fulfill."
He grabbed his underling, and together, they disappeared into a flash of violet light. The only sound was that of Jeralt collapsing onto the dirt. Without another thought, Byleth threw her weapon to the ground and picked up the body of her father.
"S-sorry…" he groaned. "It looks like… I'm going to have to leave you now…"
No way in the freshest of hells it was going to end like this. I staggered forward and assessed the wound to the best of my ability. Byleth wouldn't let me get close enough to get a good look at it, but I easily deduced that this was far beyond my ability to heal. If there was anyone nearby who could hope to help, it was Mercedes. Manuela would have been preferred, but Mercie was much closer so she came to mind first. I just had to–
"To think…" Jeralt managed, "that the first time I saw you cry… your tears would be… for me…"
It is over for him, Katáktisi muttered, tone clipped. Agarthan designs are not so easily rejected.
What do you mean? There's still–
"It's sad, and yet… I'm happy for it…"
No. Her weapon was layered with an enchantment specifically to prevent such simple solutions. All Agarthan tools are.
I was about to fire back, but Jeralt had three last words to say.
"Thank you… kid."
His head lolled. And just as though this day couldn't get any worse, it started raining.
The ride back to the monastery was one of utter silence, save the pitter-patter of the raindrops on the stones of the long road. Byleth was refusing to talk to anyone, not even Dimitri or Malcolm the gatekeeper. Furthermore, she had solidly locked herself in Jeralt's old room and hadn't come out. She was wearing the strongest expression I had seen on her. Never before had she ever worn her feelings on her sleeves… until today.
I delicately knocked on the unyielding door. "Professor? It's me… can I… come in?"
Silence. Had she left? Impossible. I tried the handle. It was locked.
"That's fine," I said softly. "We're going to be burying his body in a couple of minutes. His tombstone is going to be next to Sitri's, if you want to come." I had been surprised to learn that Jeralt's wife and Byleth's mother was already interred here. Especially considering that the professor had supposedly grown up outside the influence of the church… there was a story there, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to know it. Did it have something to do with how the progenitor god lived in her mind, pulling her strings and making her dance to a tune only she could hear?
"If you don't, that's okay too," I said. "He was… well, he was your dad, and–"
I heard a mumble, but through the oaken door I couldn't make it out.
"Professor? I can't hear you, you'll have to–"
"Go. Away."
"But–"
"Is it only you, or…?"
I glanced down the hallway. I didn't immediately see anyone, but if I spied particularly hard I could just make out Shamir on one end and Hubert on another. They didn't seem like they were looking in my direction. Besides, it wasn't untruthful, per se. "Yes. I'm alone, and here of my own volition."
"You were there," Byleth snarled, vitriol and anguish in her tone for the very first time. "I… you could have–"
"Professor Eisner," I cut her off. "That man who appeared… I understand you're not particularly inclined to magic, but I am. If you could sense the malice pouring off of him…" I paused, unsure of my next words. "He was strong enough to interfere with the hands of time. And if he can do that, what can't he do?"
That was a lie. The Agastya– Thales was his real name according to Katáktisi– wasn't able to undo the Divine Pulse. He had been observing the whole time, apparently, and had blocked the attack aimed at 'Monica' in order to keep her alive. But it was convenient for Byleth to believe that he had that power, for now. It would give me an excuse to not attack him that wasn't the Word– our programming.
Byleth was silent for a long time. "I can't."
"I understand," I replied. "I'll tell Lady Rhea–" Katáktisi gagged at the honorific– "that you won't be able to make it. She'll be sad, but her contentment isn't as important as your wellbeing. I'll leave you alone now.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
I trudged down the long hall. The monastery's energy had completely changed in just a couple of hours– what was once vivacious and energetic was now slow and melancholic. It hadn't been this way so much right after Remire. But there were other villages all across Fodra; by contrast, there was only one Jeralt Reus Eisner.
His coffin wasn't as heavy as I thought it would be, even accounting for the body inside. Maybe I was just stronger than I gave myself credit for. Maybe it was the added help of Cyril, Claire, and Annika that lightened the load. Whatever it was, I was grateful for their added strength.
Nobody was more inconsolable than Alois and Leonie, although Rhea was giving them a run for their money. The whole of the student body of the Officer's Academy and the Knights of Seiros were in attendance. We reached the trench where his body was to be placed. Here Jeralt would give the last of his service to the worms and other dirt dwellers.
"Easy does it," Cyril whispered. I shifted the hold on my side of the coffin as we lowered it into the ground. Some people threw flowers, white and blues and purples and greens adorning the glorified box.
"Thank you," Rhea said, before addressing the gathered crowd. "Jeralt was many things. Commander of the Knights of Seiros. The Blade Breaker. Husband. Father. And a dearest friend. I remember clearly how, upon returning to Garreg Mach from a faraway mission, he would bring a flower for his beloved…"
I tuned out the rest of Rhea's speech. Not out of boredom or anything. I hadn't interacted with Jeralt all that much while he was alive, to my current regret. Should Byleth ever reset the timeline before this point, I would make a priority of getting to know him better. I ignored the obituary because I was busy reflecting on whether his death was my fault. Sure, I hadn't known 'Monica''s backup plan. I had stopped her from creating a new Crestwraith, so it wasn't like I had sat idly by and allowed her to do whatever she wanted. There was probably nothing more I truly could have done about it. But I had known that she was Agarthan. I had known that she was a ticking time bomb, always sticking like glue to Edelgard and Hubert as some weird cover, plotting something horrible behind that cheery smile. At the very least, I had been able to secretly check the device I had destroyed– it was completely gone, so the Agarthans must have taken it back once making a new Crestwraith was off the table.
If I had spoken up, my connection to Katáktisi would be revealed, and Seiros would surely have me put to death for one crime or another. The question was– was my life worth his?
Hours stretched into days. Still, Byleth did not emerge. It was now evening of the thirty-first of the Ethereal Moon. The Blue Lion house had convened in the dining hall for solidarity. The food was an added bonus.
"Perhaps we should invite the professor to dinner," Dimitri said. "If we could assist her in any way during this time, we should do so."
"Ooh, that's a good idea, Dimitri!" Annette praised.
"Tch," Felix grumbled.
"I'll admit, I'm worried about Professor Byleth," stated Ashe. I had to agree with that. "I know Jeralt was important to her, but…"
"She just needs time," Sylvain said. "Losing a parent isn't something that can just be shrugged off, but I'm sure she'll be back to her old self before we know it."
"So you are capable of being serious," Ingrid complimented.
"Hey! I'm always serious."
"Sure, like that time when–"
"Now, everyone," Mercedes interjected warmly. "Let's not get too riled up. If the professor does decide to join us, we wouldn't want to make her uncomfortable by arguing with each other."
"Sorry, Mercedes," Ingrid and Sylvain apologized in unison.
"Your Highness, please allow us to accompany you," Dedue offered. "We are all her students, and–"
"It might be better if it's just Dima," I suggested. "I tried to convince her to come to the funeral service a couple of days ago, but… she wouldn't even talk to me for a while. Throwing the whole house at her all at once would be… a lot." The corners of my lips curled into a sly smirk as I saw an opportunity to tease the crown prince. "What's the saying? 'Too many wingmen spoil the date?'"
The crown prince sputtered like a dying cat. "Link, that is not–"
"It totally is!" Sylvain laughed. "You haven't given her a dagger, have you? Does she have a dagger, Dimitri?"
"Knock it off, Sylvain."
We shared a crisp high-five under the table. A bit of good-natured ribbing never hurt anyone. As far as I was aware, there wasn't any romance between Dimitri and the professor– plus, I was pretty sure Byleth was already in a relationship with Malcolm, the cheery gatekeeper– but they still seemed to have a good effect on each other. Dimitri was able to let himself relax a bit more, and she tended to emote more frequently. I had also heard that they were giving introductory sword lessons for some of the less trained orphans at the monastery– they had picked it up after Jeritza was ousted.
"I think the expression is supposed to be 'too many cooks spoil the pot'," Ingrid commented. "Although…"
The conversation wound on, and I found myself adrift over the ocean of my own mind, occasionally nodding or muttering "Mhm." Plots and schemes warred for dominance, how best to react should the secret of my union with Katáktisi be brought to light. It was inevitable that I was going to face Solon again, at some point down the line. But how could I not anger the scions of Nabatea, nor those of Agartha?
The answer came to me without too much issue: plausible deniability. I was living on the monastery's payroll. I had not forked over a small fortune to study here; they may have let a student disappear, but surely not a worker such as myself. And my friends were under the command of the professor, the avatar of the progenitor 'god' herself; that may be a fact I would have to use. If I had 'no choice' but to oppose Solon, then I could do so. Every action I took, from here on out, had to be under that specific mantra.
I would have to play my cards close to my chest, now more than ever.
Dimitri had somehow managed to coax Byleth out of that room. She was still clearly grieving, but come the start of the next week she was teaching again, and that was enough. Archbishop Rhea had given her the moon off in terms of a specific monthly objective. It was a move that I certainly appreciated. The rest of the Knights of Seiros were devoted to tracking down the Agarthan bearing the skin of Monica, to bring her to justice for the crime she had committed.
I was currently trying to put all of that out of my mind. It was snowing right now, but not so much that it could accumulate much more than a dusting. Very… scenic. I marched directly up to the vendor's stall. Firewood needed chopping, but the spare axe I had always used for the task had finally given out. I was sure I could dip into my own funds to replace it.
"Hey there, young man! Are you looking to buy or would you rather cry? Just so you know, there's no beating my prices!" the cheery redheaded shopkeeper greeted. She was clearly trying to make a sale. I paid her script no mind.
"Hi, I'm looking for a fresh axe for firewood chopping– the last one wore down over the last year."
I could practically see the greed in her eyes. "As luck would have it, we got a new axe in stock just today!" She rummaged around below the counter for a moment before revealing a slender hatchet of obviously skilled make. "This is the Vouge. Made in far-off Jugdral. Light as a feather, but sharp enough to cut through almost anything. Its balance is perfect for throwing, too!"
That all sounded very interesting, but it was decidedly not what I was in the market for. Maybe I should buy it, though; it sounded very exclusive. Now that I thought about it, though, I'd never heard of anywhere called Jugdral in all my time in Fodra.
Neither have I, Katáktisi admitted. That was especially odd.
"I think my intended usage is a bit too… mundane for such an extraordinary weapon."
"Fair enough. How about this?" She presented another axe. It was slimmer than the other one, with a much smaller head. "This little number is Orsin's Hatchet. Not as well made as the Vouge, but still does a lot of the same things."
I smelled a bargain. "I think I'll take it. How much?"
"Hm… well, you have been an awful lot of help to my business recently, so I think I can give you a slight discount. Let's say, nine hundred and eighty gold?"
I thought for a moment. "Actually? Never mind. I think I'll splurge on the Vouge today." I slid a single Blue Rupee across the table. Knowing Anna's materialism, this should be more than enough.
Her eyes narrowed as she appraised me anew. She swept a lock of hair behind her ear. I could sense her brain working overtime to value the Rupee.
"Where did you get this?" she asked softly.
"Trade secret," I replied. "D'you think it's enough?"
"Is it enough?!" she snorted. "I'd say this is only worth about three thousand gold– you're going to need significantly more than this to–"
I tossed in a Red Rupee.
"..."
"..."
"Are you trying to artificially deflate the prices of rare gemstones?" Anna demanded.
I took a double take. "I beg your pardon?"
"If you only had two or three of these, you wouldn't be throwing them around so casually," she surmised. "So they obviously must not be worth much to you. Either that, or you have a lot more of them. Enough to ruin whole economies! So unless you want the entire jewelry industry to collapse, I'd advise you to be more conservative with those!"
I was stunned into silence. "But I–"
"But nothing. No sale, kid."
"Think about the resale value! You could make a ton of cash selling for high prices."
"I'd just have to pay it back after the market crashes in on itself when my clients sue for manipulation. I'd be ruined! I'd have to slash my prices by more than half just to get by! Where did you even get all of these anyway? Maybe the bubble bursting is inevitable… Tell you what. Hand me every one of these you have, and I'll give you the Vouge. I can probably sell a couple of them and prevent the market from falling apart…"
My stomach did a somersault inside my chest. Rupees made up most of my cash, and I didn't feel comfortable parting myself from the majority of my finances. On the other hand, if what Anna said was right…
Part of me wanted to just ask Byleth to go back an hour or so. While that sounded a lot easier, it felt disingenuous… plus, the experience of turning back the hands of time was always nauseating. Usually I put up with it because somebody had died or something to that effect. But in this instance, the thing that had died was my anonymity. And that was not worth compromising my convictions, not to mention augmenting my physical dysphoria.
"I'm sorry, I… these are used as money where I'm from," I lied, really hamming it up and hoping for mercy. "I promise I'll never use them in Fodra."
The traveling merchant squinted suspiciously. "And how many of these do you have…?"
"Not many. Only a couple hundred." Not taking into account the fact that many of them were worth more than one Rupee, of course.
"Hmm…" I could all but hear the synapses in Anna's mind sparking as she tried to calculate the potential gains and the various risks associated with this trade. Eventually, a soft smirk wormed its way onto her face. "You make a convincing argument. Where can I get myself some of these things?"
"I don't know. That, um, was the concern of the elders?" I couldn't tell her where Rupees were actually found, whether the technical explanation or the practical one. If I did the former and told her they were from another dimension, another universe, she would absolutely try to find it– and she'd probably die in the Lost Woods. If I did the latter and told her they were found in tall grass, under rocks, in monster guts, et cetera., she wouldn't let me buy the axe. And I did want the axe.
I made sure to pay for the axe with a mix of Rupees and Fodra's native currency of gold coins. I had scrounged together quite a lot over my time in Fodra– I had been given a cursory stipend when working at Garreg Mach, but I had never really spent it until now. The purchase bit into a lot of my funds, but the Vouge was a masterwork. Really, it was a steal.
"Happy buying!" she winked. I made a note to never buy anything from Anna ever again.
I decided to think about all of this as little as possible for a while as we neared the middle of the month. And what better way to do that than to tell some stories of a past I was still coming to grips with?
"... The knight dropped into the vast antechamber from above," I was saying, waving my hands as I continued my oration. "The fall should have killed him, but the floor bent beneath him with a resounding boom. There was silence for a moment. Then, the ground undulated like a giant drum, flinging the knight into the air once again. The soldier drew his bow, the darkness all-consuming, perhaps hiding beasts and murderers, among other, less savory things."
Ashe hung on to my every word. The corner of the library was even quieter than usual, especially with Tomas– er, Solon– having disappeared. It felt almost lonely.
"The beat of the drum continued, slowly accelerating in pace, until at long last, the form of the phantom materialized from the dark. Its body was all matted black scales, rotting with the turgid flesh of the world's most shameful desires. Its torso hung from the ceiling, its neck split open with a giant red eye burning in the depression. Its arms were severed at the wrist, but its hands still played the funeral dirge on the great drum. The knight tried to fire an arrow, but the ghoul shifted before the weapon could fly. With the eye that could see the truth, the knight fought the shadow beast. Arrows of light and waves of darkness battled for dominance in that dank abyss… but after much blood and sweat and ichor, the demon was slain.
"But the knight could not get out. He could not get out. And all he could hear… were drums. Drums in the deep. The story ends there." It really didn't, but that wasn't important.
Ashe shivered. "A lot of your stories are really scary, Link. Why is that?"
I shrugged. I had been asking myself that question for a couple of years. "I don't know. All life ends in death. All light creates shadow. I guess that duality is important. Here, let me tell you a bit of a lighter story."
The grey-haired boy leaned in. "I can't wait." A spark visibly crosses his face. "Say, before the ball, the rest of the Blue Lions had agreed to come back to Garreg Mach for the millennium festival. You should come! Maybe you could tell everyone a story."
Hm. That did sound nice. "The millennium festival… that's in five years, right? I'll pencil it into my schedule. Anyways– where was I… Ah. Right. Long ago, in a mesa long forgotten, there existed a civilization called Ikana," I began, clearing my throat.. "They were a proud country– so proud and powerful that they built a great stone tower to the heavens to mock the gods themselves. For their hubris, they were cursed with undeath, doomed to linger in this world until their monument crumbled to bits."
"I thought you said you were telling a lighter story," Ashe laughed.
"I never said how much lighter," I teased. "Gotta keep you on your toes somehow. Anyways, one day a wanderer came across the ruins of that land, its once-mighty castles falling into disrepair, still orbited by the carcasses of the walking dead. The vagabond slew the skeletons to a man, giving them the peaceful rest they had long been denied. After clawing through the no longer opulent building, the wanderer came across a throne room. Empty, save a single skeleton on a throne.
"The entrance to the throne room slammed shut behind him. And the skeleton spoke. 'Oh, insolent one who has brought the unthinkable into a land as dark as Ikana', it said, as the room descended into a pitch-black darkness. 'My servants have fallen namelessly before the light that guides you. However…' The man watched as two other undead, armed with broadswords and shields, appeared from behind the great granite throne. 'The darkness in which my servants live is, after all, fleeting. You shall see with your own eyes…' The once-grand king rose from his seat, a greater blade appearing in its hands, 'just what kind of thing true darkness really is.'
"At once, the undead threw themselves at the wanderer, each a whirlwind of steel and bone. The swordsman stepped back, and with all his power, created light with his own hands so intense that the bodies of the skeletons were atrophied in an instant, leaving only their floating skulls in their wake. Immediately, the first two began bickering with each other, still trying in vain to harm the vagabond. 'Feeble!' they screamed. 'I am the greatest swordsman in all of Ikana! Draw your weapon!' They had only half-realized, of course, that their weapons had fallen to the ground along with the dust of the rest of their bodies. They bickered amongst themselves for a moment before the once-grand royal bid them silence. 'Will you stop?! What fools!' the king screamed. 'Haven't you begun to understand! The kingdom being ruined and us left in this state… Isn't it petty, little battles like this that have caused it?'
"The two disappeared, becoming nothing more than a wisp of blue flame. The king and the wanderer were left alone, in the ruins of the throne room. 'Believing in your friends and embracing that belief by forgiving failure,' the head mused. 'These feelings have vanished from our hearts. It all happened after someone thrust open the doors of that Stone Tower.
"'You who brings light into darkness… I am King of Ikana, Igos du Ikana. The spellbinding that had been cast upon us was broken by the light which you carry. To return true light to this land, you must seal the doors of Stone Tower where the winds of darkness blow through. But Stone Tower is an impenetrable stronghold. Hundreds of soldiers from my kingdom could not even be able to topple it. It is far too reckless to take on such a challenge… and so…
"'I grant to you a soldier who has no heart. One who will not falter in the darkness.'"
"The head began to sing a tune of power, an elegy of emptiness. The wanderer learned it, and at once a great and terrible wave of nausea overcame him. One step forwards stood a statue, a recreation of wood of the swordsman, smiling a cruel smile at him with haunted, bone-chilling eyes. 'This soldier who has no heart is your twin image,' Igos said. 'A shell of yourself that you will shed when the song commands it.' The head was gone. 'On my kingdom… shine the light of justice…'"
"'Elegy of emptiness'," Ashe repeated. "I can only imagine what that sounds like."
I felt my fingers curl around my ocarina. No thoughts interrupted my actions. There was merely a request and a method to fulfill it. "You don't have to imagine. Here."
Before I even knew what I was doing, the ocarina was at my lips. Before I could stop myself, the notes left the instrument. A wave of intense nausea washed over me, and I staggered towards a nearby bookcase, dry heaves wracking my entire small body. In my wake, in the space I had occupied mere moments ago, was a statue of myself. Smiling like for all the world it was amused by my plight.
Goddesses dammit.
Well, Katáktisi muttered, at least you haven't managed to sell me out just yet.
"What the…" Ashe whispered, shivering in discomfort. "Gods, its– your eyes are following me…"
Feigning ignorance, I turned to the heartless soldier. I squinted at it, swallowing nervously. "I have no idea what this is…"
Ashe was silent for a long moment. "If the song– the Elegy of Emptiness– actually works… your fable was not a fable at all. And if that was true…" He had connected the wretched dots. I bit my lower lip in anticipation of his next words. "Then they were all true, to some extent. Weren't they? Things you've seen, places you've been… things you've done…"
My fists clenched, fingers curled so tight that I was drawing blood. My entire body was stiff and numb. I did not let myself look him in the eyes. Now that he knew the truth…
"How many more stories do you have to tell?"
There was no avoiding it now. I slumped, all the fight leaving my body. How had I managed to ruin this so thoroughly? The writhing snake in the pit of my stomach did not answer. I sighed, knowing there was only one path open to me. "We'll talk about this later, Ashe."
Without further ado, I marched away, ignoring the grey-haired boy's protests and how much every step stung at my heart.
When I awoke, I couldn't move.
I could barely force my lungs to fill and then deflate. My arms and legs felt like they were made of stone, so heavy that I couldn't move them no matter how much I struggled. My every nerve was alight, frenzied with action that could not act.
Someone chuckled.
And that someone was named Caiaphas. How did he get into my bedroom? More importantly– why? Was this about what happened to Φρίκη at Zanado?
"Oh, 'Hero of Termina'," the Agarthan said calmly. I wanted to do something– run, scream, fight– but all I could muster was a pathetic whine that did not travel past my ears. The mask in his hands caught the meager moonlight, and I recognized it instantly. "Long did I suspect that Κατάκτηση had bound itself to you. I had not expected your host to survive Φρίκη… nor did I expect you would allow that abomination so close to you. Oho, you are not long for this game of godslayers."
Even if I could have done anything right now beyond lie there in terror, the accursed programming meant I couldn't strike the Salesman down, as much as I wanted to with every fiber of my being. He didn't seem to know of my championhood, obviously, which was the only modicum of advantage I had over this… creature. He thought I was merely an extension of my patron, subjugated and dominated since Termina.
"It seems I have struck a nerve… how curious… But both of us lack time for such pomp and circumstance, no?" His tone shifted ever so slightly, but it was enough of an indication for me to know that Caiaphas was issuing Katáktisi an order that could not be denied. "Enbarr. One moon's time. I have need of your strength, to save Agartha from its own foolishness. You will follow the pet of the Agastya." He set some shape that wasn't Katáktisi on the foot of my bed; in the darkness of the room, I couldn't make it out. "Your host will not be seen."
What was even going on? He must have been referring to the person who had the new Crestwraith, Hegemony. "I know who you are, Conquest," Caiaphas whispered. "I know your good core. I know you have ingratiated yourself with the Fell Star. I know you will set us free."
The Happy Mask Salesman, with that ever-present grin on his face, stepped forwards into the gloom of the room, and pressed his immaculate hands onto either side of my head. Hard. Magic laced his fingers, and slumber took me.
When sensation returned to me, I was outside somewhere. I didn't recognize my surroundings, but I knew I was standing in front of a small house at the foot of an enormous mountain range. It was slightly dilapidated, and it stank of death and desolation. The midday sun was angry at my presence.
A figure was standing by what I assumed to be the front door, and as I approached I recognized it as Cyril. Barely. He looked older– maybe sixteen years of age if I had to estimate with my very limited ability. He tightened his grip on his war axe as I passed him, shuffling into the house. All was still.
One thought surfaced in my mind: He found a way inside. He's hiding in the shadows.
He is locked in these stones.
I would find here my target.
I awoke to find myself back in Garreg Mach. That dream felt… prophetic. But it felt real, too. I still smelled the rot and decay in my nostrils. If I recalled correctly, that had never happened before with my dreams of Ganondorf.
However, I had no choice but to conclude that Caiaphas' presence, at least, was not a figment of my imagination. After all, how else could the Stone Mask have ended up so innocently seated at the foot of my bed?
"Hey, Link." It was unusually quiet in the monastery today, at the end of the month. I had chalked it up to the illness that had been making the rounds recently. A solid third of the monastery had caught it by now, and Manuela had her hands full. The current working theory was food poisoning. I was doing my best to avoid contracting it, and I had been successful so far.
"Hello Annette. Talk to Gilbert yet?"
"I tried a while ago, but he wouldn't even make eye contact with me." She looked off to the side glumly. "I'm fine– it's for my mother's sake that I bothered to look for him."
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "If I were older and commanded more respect, I would smack an apology out of him with my own two hands. My father died when I was pretty young, so I kind of know how you feel." It wasn't a lie per se; the Great Deku Tree most certainly did die when I was younger. But so many lifetimes had passed since then that it barely felt like my own childhood anymore.
"That's… not necessary. I appreciate the sentiment, though. So, um… oh, right! I came by to tell you that we heard from the Knights that Monica's in the Sealed Forest just outside the monastery!" Seriously? The fact that they thought to hide so close to Garreg Mach bespoke their bewildering hubris. "Dimitri's breaking the news to the professor right now, but the rest of us are all getting ready to go. You in?"
"I…" I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to. But above all else I was terrified that I would be forced to succumb to the Third Axiom. Should the Fierce Deity draw breath, there would be no salvation for the Blue Lions. I knew it in my bones. "I don't know. It's a bit above my pay grade."
Annette pouted. "Says the guy who threw a bomb into a Demonic Beast's mouth back at the destroyed chapel!" Shoot, she had seen that? "C'mon, a lot of the other students from the Golden Deer and the Black Eagles volunteered to come along. You should too!"
"I–"
"Please…? Don't tell me you caught that stomach bug too!"
"Ugh, alright, alright." I contemplated leaving Katáktisi behind in my room while I went out and fought my former allies. Despite my reservations, I knew I couldn't. The risk of it being discovered was too great. Also, it would complain. Like Ruto.
Do not compare me with the lovesick fish.
You would still complain even if I didn't.
Imagine if I left you in a sealed room, defenseless, with a very angry Ganondorf. Actually, never mind– three extremely angry Ganondorfs.
…
…
Okay, that's… that's just uncharitable.
Before I even knew it, the bloated group was deep in the woods, plotting our angle of attack in hushed, furtive tones.
"The Sealed Forest is up ahead. Stay alert," Dedue advised.
"I am ready," Petra said slowly, as though she had rehearsed it for this moment. "We will take our enemies down!"
"Petra, saying something right on the first try? We better finish this up fast before pigs start flying everywhere," said Caspar. Rude.
"We will have our revenge, whatever it takes," Leonie snarled. "On that, I will never budge."
"Remember– it is a bad idea to get distracted by vengeance," Ferdinand advised.
"Yeah, we're not just here for revenge," Claude explained, a hand on his chin. "It's… a riddle, so to speak. Those guys are undoubtedly planning something terrible. We need some kind of clue as to what… The attack on the Holy Mausoleum, Flayn's kidnapping, that awful business in Remire, the Demonic Beasts at the chapel… It can't go on."
"Whatever their objective is, we will stop them from achieving it. That is our mission," Lorenz finished.
"Visibility is awful up there," Cyril mentioned. "Wouldn't want anyone to twist an ankle or somethin'. We should go slow."
"Good point," Lysithea praised. "This will be a difficult task, but I know we'll succeed."
"It is high time I repaid the kindness of the professor who saved my life!" Cethleann said.
"I don't really love the idea of fighting people I know…" Mercedes admitted shakily.
"We don't have a choice. An enemy is an enemy," Annette countered. "Even if it's difficult, we've just gotta get it over with."
"Just kill them from behind," Felix suggested. "You won't know if you know them if you don't see their face."
"Keep it down! They might be able to hear us!" Dorothea snapped.
"We won't know unless we see their faces… yes, I suppose that's true," Dimitri mused. "Professor– I hope you know that I meant what I told you before. Your enemy is my enemy. And I will follow you until the end, whatever that end may be." That was… problematic.
"That's reassuring," Byleth said, obviously not sharing my sentiment. Admittedly, if she truly wasn't the host of Ηγεμονία, she didn't have to contend with the fact that its programming could turn her against us.
"Yes… right. We'll fulfill our duty together. We have come this far– we cannot stop now. I hope you know you can rely on us. Even those outside our house who have joined us today. No matter who the enemy is, we are all prepared to cut them down. No matter who they may be…"
The strike force converged, careful to make as little sound as possible. Unfortunately, we couldn't do much about the sense of smell of the handful of Demonic Beasts that immediately raised the alarm.
"Demonic Beasts! The enemy was always intending to lure us here!"
"Hello! You're here!" 'Monica's' voice echoed from the copse of trees. "Welcome to the forest of death! Hahaha!"
I heard the unmistakable slithering sound of Byleth's sword leaving its place at her hip. I could just barely make out the redhead through the thicket. "My name is Kronya. This weakling girl was just a borrowed look for me." The newly named Kronya did a flip and doffed her disguise. Orange hair, pale skin, and weird Agarthan technological spikes coming from her back– nothing abnormal there, nope, not at all. "This is what I really look like! Now, you vermin– I'll take down every last one of you!"
The Demonic Beasts charged. I knew I couldn't truly fight any of the humanoids– they were most likely Agarthans under Kronya's control, and I wouldn't be able to kill them even if I wanted to. Still, if I fired indiscriminately into the crowd with my bow and unintentionally skewered one through the skull, that wouldn't be covered by Katáktisi's programming, probably. Most of the team pushed north, as that was the closest route to Kronya, but Annette, Petra, Lorenz, Dorothea, and Claude took the less heavily defended western route to cover our flank. I fired curved shot after curved shot into the fray, and I had no idea if I was hitting anything. That being said, even if I was being completely useless their defenses were crumbling anyway. I didn't feel too bad.
I had barely gotten to the action when Kronya started running away from a very, very angry Byleth, bleeding from a half-dozen cuts all over her face and sides. I don't know what she was thinking, wearing whatever the hell that was supposed to be. Katáktisi informed me it was traditional Agarthan assassin garb; it was skin-tight to better meld into the shadows, and the weird spikes were supposed to aid in scaling walls and ceilings without making any noise. Thanks, Katáktisi. It didn't change the fact that it looked completely ridiculous and unoptimized for the purpose of real head-to-head combat. We would have given chase, but more troops swarmed into the clearing from the underbrush. It was an ambush, but I wouldn't be very useful here in the thick of it if I wanted to accidentally shoot people with my bow. I was just waiting to be rushed and stabbed. Besides, there were more important fish to fry– Kronya herself still drew rotten breath, and I was going to make sure to help Byleth put a stop to that, as much as Katáktisi's programming would allow me.
I darted into the greenery, my stature allowing me to slip out of the firefight undetected. I followed the bloodstains, eventually coming to a clearing dominated by a strange dais.
I paused, camouflaged in the forest. I watched Solon– when did he get here? Had he always been waiting for Kronya to flee? Regardless, I watched him drive his outstretched hand directly into Kronya's midsection.
That had to hurt.
Jeralt's daughter and Jeralt's killer stood completely still, stunned at this act. "Have no fear, Kronya," Solon whispered loudly enough for me to hear all the way on the other side of the clearing. "Your sacrifice will help rid this world of the filthy vermin that have long infested it."
Torrents of magic darker than a moonful night whipped up around the pedestal, separating me from the three figures. They trembled like tongues of flame in a sharp wind, before lashing out at Byleth, ensnaring her every limb with a vicelike grip.
"S-Solon… st-stop this!"
Solon obliged, yanking his hand out of her chest. In his grasp was a smooth orb, laced with etchings and runes I couldn't make out from my vantage point, especially given the violet flame engulfing it. The dark mage held it to the skies. "The time has finally come… to unleash the Forbidden Spell of Zahras upon our enemies!"
He crushed it, and at once there was a blast of magical energies so powerful it nearly took me off my feet. When I was next able to look up… Byleth and Kronya were gone. And Solon was alone. I burst from my hiding place, already demanding to know from Katáktisi what had happened.
Zahras. It is the void between dimensions. The avatar of the False God has been cast there. There is no appeal.
Truly!? I wouldn't believe that such a thing could exist. Unless… was it possible that Ganondorf had cast his shadow, Phantom Ganon, into Zahras when I had defeated it in the Forest Temple, way back when? It would be ridiculous to say that Ganondorf had ties to the Agarthans, but it would imply that Zahras was a commonality across Perpendicularities, which probably meant something.
The only one to have ever escaped the clutches of the forbidden spell was Epimenides, the man who created me and the other Crestwraiths. It has never been done before or since.
Then there's still a chance!
Open your eyes, Link. Agartha has won.
"Be gone with you… Fell Star…"
My boot connected with the stone floor of the pavilion. "You… did it."
Solon opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the great discordant clanking of many footsteps and hooves. "What was that sorcery?" Dimitri demanded, fury in his voice. "What happened to our professor?!"
"They were swallowed by the mystical darkness of the forbidden spell. Doomed to an eternity wandering in a void of nothingness, never to return to this world! To think we almost had the Sword of the Creator…" Solon had sacrificed the blade of Nemesis to cast away the goddess. It must have been a bittersweet moment for him, but less bitter and more sweet. After all, he had won.
"That's a lie!" Annette shouted. "There's no way our professor is really dead!"
"That's right!" Flayn concurred. I bit back a demand for her to get the heck out of here. "Our professor is no ordinary human!"
"I refuse to believe that our Teach would die in a place like this," Claude asserted, shaking his head.
"It is possible that death has not found your friend," Solon mocked. "But there are worse things than death. Drifting through the darkness with no chance of escape… Overwhelmed with hopelessness… it must be torturous."
"She's alive," Felix commented. "I know it."
"I have to agree," Ferdinand asserted. "Even if our professor is trapped in darkness, this is not the end of her story."
"You're right. We will save the professor! But first, let's destroy this fiend! I will slice you into a thousand pieces as you watch with horror… You will know true pain before I finally allow you to die!" Bit over the top, but I appreciated the sentiment– or at least, the parts of me that were definitely me. Something tightened my grip on my sword anyway.
"How trite. But if you wish for pain, then I shall oblige!" Solon announced. "If you prefer it–"
We were interrupted by the birth of a new star. A point of blazing crimson appeared in the air and then slid downward, creating a cut in the very fabric of space. The students all tried their best to avert their eyes from this brilliance, but Solon and I kept our eyes locked on the wound in the world.
"So the Fell Star consumes even the darkness itself," Solon whispered. Tearing herself from the rift was Byleth Eisner, the Sword of the Creator glowing the color of the afterbirth of divinity… her hair now shaded a minty green.
Impossible, Katáktisi breathed. She is, but she is not…
Isn't what?
Not important at present. Be on your guard, my champion. I have no idea what–
"I am terrified by you… even though an emotion like fear has no place inside me." Solon admitted, taking a shaky step backwards. His eyes alighted upon me, and in that moment I knew it was over. "That means you must be eliminated. Κατάκτηση–!" The Word, the invocation of the Third Axiom, was loosed from his lips. I stood rigid, checkmated completely and utterly, unable to do anything save wait for the inevitable command. His next words fell like a hammer.
"Kill them all."
It was all I could do to not immediately put on the mask, just like in Remire. I knew I could stand up to the Command, at least for a time, but if I became the Fierce Deity there would be no such hesitation. Of my allies, Claude reacted first, an arrow immediately loaded into his bow. He fired a shot directly at Solon, flying with a truest intent towards its target–
My feet carried me faster than should have been possible, and before I knew what I was doing I was swinging my off hand directly into the head of the arrow. The iron pierced my palm, sending fingers of pain clawing from the impact site, but its momentum was halted mere inches in front of Solon's face. Blood dribbled from the wound, droplet by droplet.
The Second Axiom.
The pain was enough to interrupt my concentration. Time had slowed to a crawl, but I could feel the wood of the mask in my fingers. "What are you doing!?" I could hear someone shout, but in the murkiness of my mental prison I couldn't tell who. It was all I could do before the mask was bound to my face
to
scream
for
them
to
run.
This is when we go from Those Who Sow Darkness to Area 17 Redux. (Majora's Mask Reborn track no. 103 is also acceptable.) On an unrelated note for those who are curious, I picked 'Malcolm' for the best boy Gatekeeper's name because Malcolm can be shortened to Mal, which is an anagram of Alm, with whom Gatekeeper shares a voice actor.
Review please!
Pet Peeved (FF): Huh. I never really thought that the inhabitants of Fódlan wouldn't speak English, but I can't really disagree with that assertion now that you've brought it up. I'm probably not going to go back and change it, just because that feels a little iffy to me to go back and change little things like that– otherwise I'd never get done, haha. Regarding your other point, I'm less certain of that. While the translation of God Shattering Star does say that it's 'Fódlan', the actual lyric as I hear it sounds like 'Fodra'. I always figured that phonetic shifts eventually moved it from 'Fodra' to 'Fódlan' over the millennium of the Church of Seiros; I'm also willing to be wrong on that point, but because it highlights Conquest's absence from the continent for the last thousand years, I'm partial to it. This has nothing to do with Seteth not knowing what the word 'opaque' means; that's instead a reference to when some of the English voice actors got together to paint Christmas baubles and Mark Whitten (Seteth's VA) didn't know what 'opaque' meant. You can find it on YouTube if you're so inclined. Thank you for the feedback!
Equilized Enigma (FF): Well, you have one now, at least. Last chapter was definitely me pumping the brakes to help the pacing (definitely not because I panicked and realized that four action-heavy chapters in a row is a bit too much). Thanks for sticking around!
Backpack Bandit (FF): Link could probably pass the Swordsmaster qualification exam without too much issue, but considering that Cyril doesn't have any advanced certifications on recruit, I felt hesitant to give Link any. Plus I don't want him to tread on Felix's heels, and I definitely didn't give Link a unique class or anything like that.
ChankoLegacy (FF): That Seteth scene was one of the first scenes I actually wrote– back when I had no ambitions further than making a mediocre ripoff of 'Support Conversations with the Hero of Time', so it's had the most time to be revised and tinkered with. I did actually write a scene giving Link some more interactions shortly after the ball, but I scrapped it because I couldn't make it flow naturally out of the scene. I have it in a backup document and I might try to include it in post-timeskip somehow as a flashback or just as its own thing. In retrospect, I probably should have given Link someone else to talk to aside from Hubert, but I feel like it's realistic for the monastery workers to take an 'all hands on deck' approach to the ball. I think it makes Link feel more like a part of the world as opposed to the center of it, although I can promise that his presence will have increasing effects moving out of pre-timeskip.
Please don't feel sorry for voicing criticism, I actually really appreciate hearing it so I can improve my writing ability! I won't be stopping anytime soon (writing or improving, I should hope), and I'm glad to have you on board!
CuddlyManaki (AO3): Short sections of prose like the ones you pointed out are super fun for me to write, so I'm glad they're being appreciated.
MysticBoywastaken (FF): Thank you!
DarthFlores (AO3): No worries! Don't worry about imitating– they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, after all. As long as you're not copying and pasting whole paragraphs from Cobalt Crescent, I'm totally okay with it. Even something as small as changing Link's general area of origin (maybe after Link's Awakening, he ends up stranded on the shores of Almyra and gets involved with Claude's schemes, or TP Ganondorf reaches out to Edelgard during the monastery phase as an alternative to working with the Agarthans and Link has to chase his influence to Fódlan during the Three Hopes era, or something completely different idk) could have large impacts on the trajectory of the story, and I'd love to see someone else's interpretations of those ideas!
pewpew123 (FF): Those are valid criticisms you have brought up, as have a number of others. For the sake of brevity, I'll refer you to previous review responses. For the specific point you bring up, let me answer your question with another question: When you boot up Majora's Mask, how many hearts do you have? Three. I can't take that seriously– it's pretty much canon that Link has at least eleven hearts from Ocarina of Time!
It's the same principle for Cobalt Crescent. Ultimately, nerfing Link came down to a matter of preserving the stakes of the story at hand. If Link is a demigod right off the bat, as you put it, why should we ever expect him to fail, and therefore why should there be any tension in the combat? Why treat any of the antagonists as anything more than a wayward joke? Better to force Link to grow into it a bit more, both literally and metaphorically. Hope this helps, sorry if this response came off as harsh or condescending (which was not my intent), and thanks for reviewing!
