Chapter 43 - Fear and Shadows

In unison the ghostly doppelgangers charged, their twisted forms flicking as they moved. The ghostly flames of the torches seemed to dim the flash, pulsing in unison like the heartbeat of some ancient beast the group had found themselves swallowed by. In an instant the ghostly forms closed the remaining distance, each going straight for the one whose form they'd taken in mockery of.

Corrin swept Yato out before him, parrying a strike from a version of himself caked in dirt and blood. Another, this one bathed in purple flames, half transformed between human and dragon, raked at him with a clawed hand, managing to inflict several glancing scratches before Corrin managed to kick him off of him.

All around him the others fared much the same as he. In the brief moment of reprieve Corrin found for himself, he spied his daughter transforming into her dragon form to attempt to evade a larger version of herself. Beyond her Sakura fought against a version of herself dressed in Corrin's mother's clothes. In a group he glimpsed Owain dueling with a sword-wielding version of himself clad in a yellow tunic and leather armor, Inigo with a younger version of himself that had white hair and wore clothes stained by inky black blood, and Elise with an older version of herself in armor similar to that worn by Camila.

Yet despite the overwhelming numbers, they were still holding their own. Perhaps they had a chance still. While these ghostly versions of themselves seemed to have inherited their powers and battle tactics, they weren't fighting as a unit. Their attacks were disorganized and piecemeal. With the right battle strategy, Corrin was certain he and the others could exploit this fact.

"Really? You think it will be that easy?"

Corrin froze, realizing it was one of his duplicates that had spoken. It was the younger version of himself wielding Ganglari, a twisted smile on the doppelganger's face.

"Do you really think your bonds will be enough? Least not for us, not when we are so undeserving of them." The copy laughed, shaking his head. "But that alone would be too easy. Allow us to show you the true test to your will. A test that you will fail… just like everything else you've ever done."

The torches around them flared brightly, nearly blinding them with their radiance. Then in the blink of an eye the lights sputtered out, darkness claiming the chamber once more… There was a rush of air, something surging towards them from beyond the edge of sight. It was the void, blacker than the blackest night, darker even than the darkness of the lightless temple itself. Like an ocean wave, it crashed over all of them, plunging them all into oblivion's embrace.

. . . . .

With a gasp, Corrin's eyes snapped open, his blurred vision spinning into focus. He scrambled upright, somehow managing to retrieve Yato in the process, frantically trying to figure out what had happened.

He was alone, standing in the center of a smaller chamber similar to the one he and the others had first entered into. Pillars ringed the space around him, and beyond them several passageways split off from the circular room. The torches in their mountings glowed dimly with pale light, having either relit themselves or having never gone out when those in the first chamber had.

There was no sign of anyone else, neither his friends nor the creatures that had worn their faces. He was utterly alone.

I… I need to find them, Corrin realized, fear gripping his heart. Together they'd managed to hold their ground. But if any of them were caught alone and forced to fight multiple copies of themselves… he feared they'd stand little hope of surviving such an encounter.

"Oh, it's worse than that I'm afraid."

Corrin whirled, swinging Yato wildly. He caught nothing but thin air, his weapons falling sort of the figure who stood before him. It was the Ganglari-wielding copy of himself, this smirking with confidence.

"How did you-" Corrin gasped, hefting Yato between him and his clone, falling into a defensive stance.

"Know what you're thinking?" the copy finished for him. "It's it obvious? We're you. We know every thought we have. We know your past…"

The figure blurred, spitting into a second copy.

"Your fears," growled the twisted, transformed Corrin, it's voice strangled with rage and despair.

The two copies flickered, doubling their number as a new duo of copy Corrins materialized from them.

"Your desires," said a Corrin in new polished armor, the same armor he'd doned the day of his and Azura's wedding,

"Your regrets," said the final Corrin, this one wearing filthy bloodstained armor and sunken eyes. Corrin recognized that face in particular. It the face that had stared back in the mirror during the final days of the war, a face worn down by constant fighting and the weight of dead left in his wake.

"We know it all," the four said in unison, their fords cutting Corrin to the bone. In that single instant his fear for the others was forgotten, replaced by icy dread for what fate had in store for him.

As one Corrin's duplicates drew their weapons and charged.

. . . . .

"Thoron!" Robin bellowed, drawing his hand back as the conjured lightning danced around him. With a roar, Robin flung his arm outward, launching his attack. The nearest copy of himself, one that had taken the form of Grima puppeting his body, raised an arm to shield himself, a wall of inky magic springing up to deflect the incoming spell an instant before Robin could bring it to bare.

But Robin hadn't been aiming at his duplicate. Instead, he had swept his hand low at the last instant, shattering the ground between them. Dust billowed through the chamber, washing over both him and his trio of opponents, thick enough to blot out the light of the torches.

The distraction was all Robin needed to make it to cover, taking shelter behind a pillar as his copies retaliated with spells of their own. He breathed heavily, feeling his whole body tremble with each shuddering gasp. Everything hurt, the product of the numerous blows he'd taken during the largely one-sided exchange he'd fought thus far.

Before I was holding my own… But now… The longer the fight had worn on, the more powerful his foes seemed to become. He wasn't sure if they were actually gaining strength… or if his own resolve had continued to waver beneath the verbal assaults that accompanied each physical attack.

"Hiding are we? We both know you can do better than that," rasped a rough, worn-down copy of his voice. He recognized it as the ghostly figure that had taken on the form of an older version of himself. Perhaps it was meant to be the him from Soleil's world. Perhaps not. "Though, even if you did, how much would it matter? You're getting tired… tired of the endless struggle. Every victory ends in yet another battle for survival."

"You've seen how it ends. How it always ends. In Lucina's future, in your children's world. Always in tragedy," added the third copy he'd been facing, the one that had appeared as himself with sunken eyes and a gaunt face. A face worn down by loss and claimed by despair. "You know it to be true… that is our destiny. Always the puppet of fate… you may have escaped it longer than most, but how much longer can you…"

"Your bonds are all you have. Without them you are nothing. Just an empty vessel to be used and discarded. That is, and always will be, your fate." Grima's laughter echoed through the chamber, chilling Robin to the bone. He wanted to scream back, to deny it. But Robin couldn't bring himself to answer. He couldn't find the words to deny it.

He wasn't even sure if he believed those words were false.

He gripped his right arm with his other hand, feeling it numb and heavy, as if the life had been drained from it. He grimaced, gripping his wrist with his other hand. With what seemed like am momentous effort he managed to flex his fingers, a cold shiver of dread washing over him as he realized just how little strength remained in him. Worse still, the smokescreen would only last a few moments at best. Soon the dust would settle, and they would find him.

What am I supposed to do… I can't win like this… maybe they're right… maybe…

For an instant time seemed to freeze. Robin wondered at the feeling: the utter hopelessness. It didn't make any sense, even in his darkest moments, the only time he'd felt like this was-

-was during the final confrontation with Grima, when the Fell Dragon had dragged him into a realm of utter darkness. That had been despair at its most complete, the very place smothering ever bit of hope, love, and joy until only a spark remained.

But that hadn't been natural. It had been born from the dark power Grima had conjured at that very moment. And just as that despair had been untrue, so to was what he felt now. He was sure of it! Sure, the doubts their words had inflicted were real, but he'd faced worse before. No, the way they'd seeped deep within his mind, draining away his hope and confidence… he now saw them for what they were.

And with that, he had a plan.

"Still not showing yourself? Have you finally learned the truth? That no matter how hard you fight… your fate is sealed," the Grima version of himself asked, a smirk in his voice. "So come, let us put an end to this. Reveal yourself and a quick demise can be-"

Before he could finish Robin leaped from his hiding space, standing in the open before them.

"Arcfire!" Robin unleashed his spell, the three duplicates calling forth spells of their own to meet his attack. A blast of wind cut through his flames, splitting the inferno to either side. An instant after the other two spells obliterated the spot Robin had stood, erasing everything in a blinding flash of light.

But Robin was no longer there. Instead of retreating again or trying to defend himself, he'd done the exact opposite thing they'd expected. He'd charged them head-on. In an instant, he closed the gap between them before any of the three could react. However their surprise was short-lived, all three versions of himself unleashing a second barrage of spells.

But Robin had been quicker, getting his spell off an instant before. "Elwind!" He directed the cutting blades of wind at the floor beneath his feet, sending shockwaves of pressure cascading outward to throw his duplicates at his feet while simultaneously launching him upward. He sailed over them, tumbling as he landed. Coming out of his roll in a dead sprint, Robin spared not even a backward glance, knowing full well they'd recover with ease. He needed every second he could gain to put some distance between him and his foes.

He couldn't win. Not on his own, that he was certain. Not when these foes played to him every fear and weakness. But he didn't have to beat them. He just had to lead them to someone who could.

. . . . .

Lucina staggered back, her shoulders rising and falling with each ragged breath, the cost of the brutal exchange with the phantom creature that had taken on her own appearance.

The wave of shadows that had rushed over her seemed to have deposited her and her duplicate into a smaller chamber, separating her from the others. What had happened to them, or the several other ghostly duplicates of herself that had split off from the first, she could not say. It was fortunate that so far she'd only had to contend with one of these copies, to say the least.

Just one and she was already having trouble.

Footsteps echoed as the spectral version of herself approached, drops of red blood dripping from the thing's own version of Falchion. Thankfully the blood was not Lucina's own, having avoided sustaining any injuries in their fight thus far. No, this version of herself, nearly identical in appearance to herself, was covered in blood. Her hands, face, and clothes were stained in it, still as fresh as the blood that dripped from her Falchion.

Lucina knew whose blood it was. This was herself from her own darkest nightmares. Dreams in which she'd been this very bloodstained Lucina. Dreams where she'd killed the man she loved.

A cruel smile twisted the lips of her mirror self, her pitch-black eyes narrowing. Then the doppelganger leaped forward, bringing Falchion down in a two-handed strike from above. Lucina raised her own blade, blocking the attack even as the force of the impact sent her skidding several inches back. Twisting to transfer the remaining force outward, Lucina whipped Falchion back around and countered, only to be foiled as her foe reacted with preternatural swiftness, effortlessly parrying the blow.

"We're selfish. He gave us happiness yet how did we repay it? With a sword pointed at his chest." Lucina's mirror taunted, swinging her bloodstained sword in a sweeping strike that Lucina barely parried.

Lucina grimaced, fighting to ignore the taunt. It was a cruel reminder of her mistakes, one she'd swore to never repeat. She reminded herself of it, clinging to that thought like a lifeline.

It didn't do much to dull the pang of shame she felt in her chest.

The clone smiled wickedly, the blood splattering its face glinting in the ghostly light. "Recall how easy it was to resolve, to murder a loved one. But that is all it was. The easy way out for us, Just take one life and end the threat. Simple, was it not?" Again the duplicate launched another attack, pushing Lucina onto the defensive. "We were too afraid to risk that uncertain future, not when we could end it there. Caring only for our own desires."

Don't listen to it. Focus and don't listen!

Parrying the strike upward, Lucina threw her weight forward, slamming her shoulder into her mirror self with enough force to stagger it. Disentangling her blade, she went in for a counter strike. Only for another sword to enter her vision, deflecting her attack at the last moment. Lucina whirled to face the new foe, spinning just enough to block the counter cut from her second duplicate that had appeared without warning. Unlike the first, this one was even a closer match for her appearance. The only difference was this Lucina wore her mask.

"We should never have stayed. In a world that is not our own. How could we ever belong there?" the clone said, speaking even as it launched a barrage of attacks that put Lucina further on the defensive. "So selfish. Abandoning our true home and for what? All for our own happiness."

Before Lucina could even respond, the figure before her suddenly blurred, splitting into a third duplicate. This was clad in the yukata she'd worn during their trip to the hot springs. Only this Lucina's expression wasn't as happy as she recalled feeling. This one was sad, her eyes sunken and expression weary. "We don't deserve our life with him. For what right has a wife to be with her husband when she cannot put him first?"

"What right does she have when you couldn't even put him above her own fears?" Lucina turned to see her bloodstained mirror step forward once move, her bloody Falchion held before her.

"Only to remain despite that, even when we should not," said the masked Lucina. It slashed at her left, Lucina whirling to defend.

"Always putting herself first when it really matters. Not even when it's for the man she loves," said the third, it's own cut coming in from the right. Lucina barely brought Falchion back around to defend. Falchion felt leaden in her hand, as if all will to fight had suddenly drained from her.

"Selfish," her mirror selves taunted in unison. The bloodstained Lucina lunged forward, raising her crimson Falchion over her head to strike. Frantically Lucina lifted her own Falchion to block, but in that instant she saw that she wouldn't make it in time. The blade fell, arcing towards in a single blink of an eye.

Then the duplicate jerked forward, the tip of a blade jutting from her chest. The bloodstained Lucina gasped, shock playing across her face as Falchion fell from her hands as her pitch-black eyes went wide in shock.

"Why..." she gasped, before stilling. Slowly the duplicate slid forwards, collapsing and disintegrating into icy vapor as she hit the floor.

In the space the duplicate had been stood Robin, his own shoulders heaving as his breath came in ragged gasps. Despite his evident exhaustion, he whirled around with surprising speed, parrying a blow from the second duplicate. He shoved her blade wide, throwing her back with a blast of wind. A quick barrage of electric bolts lanced from his fingertips as he threw himself back, ducking under a slash from the third mirror Lucina as his spell sent her staggering back.

"Robin…" Lucina gasped, shaking her head. "Why did you…"

"They feed on your doubts. It's how they draw their power. They feed on your strength and make it their own," her husband explained quickly, even as his chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, his chest heaving between each word. "But that's the thing, it only works on the person they are mimicking. Not to mention it has one other fatal flaw. They don't just take on your appearance and strengths… but also your weaknesses too."

"-Meaning these creatures that have taken my form will have no such ability affect you," Lucina exclaimed, smiling despite herself at her husband's cleverness. "And what's more, if they possess the weaknesses of the one they copy…" Her gaze fixed upon Falchion, having grasped the significance of that fact.

"Exactly," Robin's smile deepened turning to almost a smirk. "Let me handle your doppelgangers. If we were having trouble with our own copies, then I can only imagine how Corrin dealing with this. But with Falchion, you can deal with his phantom with ease. Hurry," Robin urged her.

"I promise. Stay safe, won't you," Lucina assured him, giving a quick glance over her shoulder before darting forward.

Steel rang behind her, signaling that Robin had re-engaged her shadow duplicates. Trusting her husband could handle himself, Lucina instead focused on her own mission. A shadow darted into view to stop her, it's appearance that of her husband. No, not Robin, for the twisted expression it wore could leave little doubt. The form it had taken was of Grima. The phantom's hand shot forward, launching a bolt of pitch-black lightning that arched towards her.

Lucina reacted the instant before the spell could connect, sweeping Falchion before her in blinding arc. The sacred sword cut through the spell-like a wing cutting through the wind, azure light erupting from the blade to scatter and banish the dark magic wielded against her. Carrying the momentum forward, Lucina brought Falchion across in a single cut, vanquishing her husband's doppelganger before it had a chance to recover. Compared to her own duplicates, it's movements seemed almost sluggish, lacking the preternatural abilities the others had possessed.

Or rather, it hadn't been able to draw away her own vigor as they had. Indeed, Robin had in fact discovered the trick to vanquishing these foes.

Now we must use this to our advantage, before the others can fall prey to their own doubts and fears made real. Even as more twisted versions of her husband appeared to bar her way, Lucina had little doubt that she could force her way past them. She had to if she was to make it in time to rescue the others.

. . . . .

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," Morgan groaned, picking herself off the ground. Pain shot through her back, emanating from the spot she'd collided with a pillar after her stupid jerk copy had thrown her back with a Wind spell.

"Come on, aren't you better than that? I thought we were good at this stuff," her duplicate chided, grinning from behind the shadows cast by her hood. "You know, being a tactician, leading armies, killing lots of people. Lots and lots of people. But you can only guess how many, can't you? But I know, and let me tell you, we could make a mountain out of them."

"Well, you know what- You're stupid. So there, take that," Morgan said, sticking out her tongue. Stupid jerk thinks she can get in my head, but that won't work on me, Morgan told herself, staggering fully upright. See, doesn't bother me. Who's bothered by all that? Not me that's who.

"I guess that's how we deal with stuff, huh? Shift the blame, it can't be our fault. Can't ever be the one to do anything wrong," the other Morgan laughed. She held out her hand, embers swirling around her palm, coalescing into a single bead of flame. The shadow Morgan lurched, the pin-point of light erupting into an inferno that rushed towards Morgan.

"Arcwind!" The vortex of air scattered her copy's spells, tongues of flame dancing around her. Using the chaos as a cover, Morgan threw herself forward, crossing the distance to shoulder-check her duplicate. The copy-Morgan reeled back, off-balance, giving her the opening she needed. "Ignis!" Morgan shouted, her sword erupting with deep burgundy light as she lunged, stabbing her copy through the chest.

"Take. That," Morgan spat, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. She ripped her blade free, the clone staggering back a step, wavering as if about to fall.

Then the copy straightened, the look of shock on its face turning to a smirk. "Touched a nerve, didn't I? So angry... this is familiar, isn't it? But where oh where have I heard this before?"

"You…" Morgan hissed through clenched teeth, feeling her heart sink in her chest. It… just shrugged off her attack, like it was nothing. She tried to lift her sword, only to find her hand unbearably heavy; as if her whole arm had turned to lead.

What's going on? Why…

"Oh, yeah that's right," the copy said, the smirk turned to a grin.

A bolt of electricity slammed into Morgan from the side, throwing her from her feet. She landed, hard, sparks dancing across her body as she writhed in pain. Managing to twist around on the floor, she spied the new foe who'd practically sucker-punched her.

It was her. How she'd looked only a few days before, wearing the new clothes Hinoka had given her. If not for the fact that Morgan had been forced to don her old coat after the newer one had been ruined, they would have looked identical.

"It's so much easier to get angry. That's what we did with Inigo, right? Get angry at him to hide from all that guilt and regret. Honestly don't blame you. We are really really really good at it," this second copy taunted.

"You… you… It's not… just shut up!" Morgan screamed, thrusting out a hand. Fire roared forth, blazing a path towards the two copies of herself. The first one stepped forward to meet the spell, effortlessly conjuring a barrier to protect both her and the other shadow-Morgan.

Dammit! Morgan gritted her teeth. What was she supposed to do? Her attacks were doing nothing! At best all she'd managed was to buy herself a second, just long enough to stand. Yeah, at best, that was all she had accomplished.

"Come on, isn't that just what we were telling you? Talk about proving our point," the second Morgan stepped forward as the first dropped the barrier, already charging up a spell of her own. "I thought we were supposed to be smart. I guess you over esti-"

Several crackling, hissing thumps reverberated through the air, silencing copy Morgan as she jerked forward in rapid succession. The sound was akin to a red-hot iron striking a soaking wet surface, turning water into steam and sizzling what was beneath with each blow. For an instant the ghost-shadow-Morgan-thing seemed to hang in mid-air. Then she toppled forward, revealing the trio of arrows protruding from her back, shimmering azure light still dissipating from the rings of seared flesh surrounding each point of impact.

The other copy-Morgan whirled around. In the moment of surprise, Morgan herself found her opening.

"Arcfire!"

The spell caught the clone full force. Through the smoke and embers that followed Morgan spied her duplicate fall to one knee, her clothes in tatters and flesh seared.

A blade flashed, glinting in the pale light. The copy Morgan toppled to one side, evaporating into pitch-black mist, revealing just who had come to her rescue.

"Hi, Mother. Fancy meeting you here," Soleil said, grinning. She twirled her blade around, letting it glint and flash in the ghostly werelight before slipping it into its sheath. Show off.

"Soleil. How did you…You got here so fast, how did you-" Morgan gasped. Between her own surprise as well as her own shortness of breath, Morgan found herself uncharacteristically lost for words.

Taking a step forward, Morgan nearly doubled over as a wave of vertigo crashed over her. She paused, taking a moment to catch her breath. And with that moment, she found her feelings of bewilderment only growing with each passing instant.

"What gives?! We were separated for like, what, five minutes? Ten tops!"

"Didn't you have a weird shadowy ghost or whatever copy-things to fight?! No way you could have beaten them and got here so fast! How?!" she demanded, pointing an accusing finger towards her daughter. "You cheated! That's it. That's the only explanation! Only way you could have won your fight, like, way better than me. Me!"

"Huh, what are you talking about, mother. These things were really easy. I mean, they just sort of taunted me a bit, but like, in a super lame way," Soleil replied, looking positively perplexed by her outburst.

"Though one did try to flirt with me… that was kind of weird. Hey, if you 'did it' with your clone, would that be considered-"

"Soleil! That's beside the point!" Morgan exclaimed, grabbing her daughter by the shoulders and shaking her. Then she froze, considering the thought for a moment. "Though I guess if you really want to be technical about it, it probably would be- No! Bad, Morgan! Topic, stay on it!"

Morgan shook her head fervently, trying to clear her mind of the… particular path her thoughts were now taking. You know, you did try to get that second version of Inigo to 'join in' that one time. So you know, something-something stones and glasshouses.

Shut up, brain! No one asked you!

Morgan shook her head again, even more vigorously than before. She even gave herself a slap on each cheek for good measure. Yeah, that'd teach her!

"Mother, are you okay? Did you hit yourself on your head or something?" Soleil asked.

"No, I'm okay, I'm okay…" Morgan took a deep breath, releasing her daughter. "Point is, how come your copy-ghosts were so easy. Mine were really mean, and- I dunno, the things they said kind of hurt. It sucked!"

"Huh, that's weird." Soleil frowned, rubbing her chin as she pondered this conundrum. Morgan couldn't help but notice how her daughter stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth when she was thinking, just like she did. Then Soleil smiled abruptly, shrugging her shoulders. "Well beats me. Maybe they couldn't really say anything that could bother me or something. I mean, I am pretty great, so you know, it'd be really hard for even me to get me down."

"But that doesn't-" Morgan froze, realizing that, no, it totally did make sense! "Soleil! You're a genius!"

"Really? I mean, duh, of course I am," Soleil said, recovering from her momentary shock at this proclamation. "So, um, how am I a genius exactly?"

"Because they only tried to look like you, even when it wasn't working!" Morgan exclaimed. "I bet if they'd looked like me or Inigo or maybe even Father, they might have had better luck. But they didn't, because the test is about the things you are afraid of about yourself. And you're pretty much completely full of yourself, so you don't have any self-doubt or anything!"

"Thanks, I guess?" Soleil said, appearing unsure if she should take that as a compliment or not. Not to mention it didn't particularly look like she was following.

"Look, the important part is you're basically our secret weapon! And now that mine are dealt with too, we can go help everyone else!," Morgan explained. She waved her arm, urging Soleil to follow. "Come on, let's hurry!"

. . . . .

A flurry of steel ringing on steel echoed through the chamber, melding together into an almost continuous sound. Marc leaped back, bringing his hand up to his face to touch the stinging line of pain across his chin. His fingers came away red.

Not too much blood. Shallow cut, nothing to worry about. Marc fixed his eyes back on his duplicate.

He stood face to face with himself as he'd appeared a year ago when he'd still served as Grima's pawn. Red sorcerer's robes underneath his old tactician's coat, the Falchion held in the thing's hands still appearing as the twisted mockery Grima had fashioned it into when he'd corrupted the divine blade.

"Why do you even try? It doesn't matter. None of it does," the past-Marc told him. Again the two met in a quick exchange, ending with their weapons locked between them. "You shouldn't have even come here, and you know it. You offer nothing to them."

Marc said nothing, focusing all his will upon his blade. None of it mattered. Only this battle. Only this fight.

"They will all leave you again," his duplicate continued, a sad smile twisting what little of his face he could see even as the clone strained against Marc, seeking to overpower him. Their locked blades screeched, grinding against each other as they both fought to gain any leverage over the other. "You aren't needed. You are never needed. Because you are never-"

Marc stepped wide, pulling his blade back. Without the pressure holding his opponent's blade at bay, the false Marc lurched forward, thrown off balance. Stinging pain shot down Marc's arm, his shadowy-self managing to graze him even as it staggered forward. However, Marc barely flinched, calmly whipping his blade around and down, carrying its momentum into a single powerful cut.

For an instant, the ghostly version of himself hung in place, utterly still as Falchion carried through. Then smoke began the bellow from the phantom, the shadowy visage splitting open as it fell in half. It's form collapsed as it fell, becoming little more than a dense fog that splashed against the floor before dispersing into nothingness.

Calm as could be Marc turned, his eyes locking as the shadows began to coalesce once more, taking shape into a new twisted version of himself. Black and gold robes, a tattered tactician's coat. Black eyes that somehow seemed to glow with crimson light. A visible aura of twisting darkness, from which showed a cruel grin. So like the monster, he'd served in his own world, only wearing his face instead of his father's.

"We can never atone for your sins. Why bother? Not when our hands are stained by rivers of blood," the Grima-Marc taunted, conjuring a sphere of dark magic above his outstretched hand. The spell crackled and pulsed with bursts of violet electricity, growing larger with each passing instant. "But is it really any surprise. You are my child after all, Like father, like son. Truly the spawn of a monster, isn't that-"

Falchion flashed, interrupting the doppelganger. In an instant he'd closed the gap between them, the blade disrupting the spell. Lightning danced from Marc's fingertips, forming a spike that smashed into his clone's chest, catching the phantom before it could recover. It staggered back, a gasp falling from its lips. The sound, however, was cut short as Marc brought Falchion to bare, finishing the thing off without a moment's hesitation.

Marc spun around, sweeping Falchion to catch the blade aimed at his back. With a twist and a wrenching motion he ripped the weapon from the third copy's hands, this version of himself older, with sunken eyes and a gaunt, scarred face.

"How-" the clone asked, the words falling from its lips the instant before Marc slew it without a second thought.

"How?" Marc asked, speaking aloud to the now still and silent chamber. "I guess I don't see how any of it can bother me. I've heard it all before. I tell myself all of that every day."

He swept Falchion wide in a motion to clear it of blood: a fruitless gesture considering how the copies had left no trace of themselves after being slain, before returning the blade to its sheath.

"Besides, none of it can really bother me anymore. Not when I already know it's true. All of it," Marc whispered, closing his eyes as he centered himself.

Then his eyes snapped open as he sprung forward, picking one of the passageways at random and charing down it. I need to find the others. They're probably having a harder time than I am.

. . . . .

A transformed fist smashed into Corrin's side, the impact launching him back and into one of the pillars with enough force to shatter it and send rubble raining down around him. Corrin crumpled to the floor, coughing up blood as he gasped for breath. He was certain several ribs were broken. And that was with him being fortunate enough to have managed to transform the instant he struck the column, the hardened scales and strengthened bones of his partial dragon form allowing him to take the devastating impact with far fewer injuries than he might have otherwise. If he'd been even a second slower…

...well he doubted he'd be able to even move after that. Assuming he even survived.

"Pitiful," taunted the figure that had taken the form of his younger naive self. "We never knew it would end like this, did we? We didn't know what fate had in store for us."

"Even if we knew… we would have still tried…" Corrin spat, managing to get an arm out from under him. The skin of his back twisted and crawled, wings sprouting. With a single mighty beat, he propelled himself forward, barreling into his duplicate. Yato flashed, knocking his foe's blade wide before his claws raked across the thing's chest.

Swinging Yato around he gripped the blade with both hands, bringing it down for a finishing blow against his foe, only for the battle-worn copy to intercept, leaping into his path and catching Yato with its own copy of the blade.

"Can you be so sure? Knowing what you know," the doppelganger taunted. With a heave he forced Corrin back a step, nearly causing him to lose his footing. Somehow he managed.

"I'd change things! I'd save everyone! I'd-"

"You'd fail. It's fruitless… your fate cannot be changed. It is inevitable," his copy shot back, interrupting. With another heave the clone knocked Yato upward, leaving Corrin open long enough for the clone to drive the pommel of its Yato into his jaw, staggering him.

"You'll watch them all die again. That's our purpose. A monster who brings only death and pain!" shouted the bestial copy of himself, Corrin barely managing to leap back to avoid its sweeping claws.

The final copy bared down on him then. Corrin rising his blade just in time to protect against the barrage of strikes. Each blow sent shockwaves of pain through his arms, the force of each blow staggering him again and again. "You know it's pointless. Why fight it? It will end all the same..." the groom-Corrin urged him, a sad smile on its lips even as he delivered devastating blow after devastating blow.

"Wouldn't it be easier just to die here? You could leave all the pain behind… That's what you want, isn't it? You've wanted it for a long time." The sad smile became almost knowing, flashing in time with the final blow. Corrin was thrown back, staggering several steps before crashing with his back against a pillar. He barely managed to catch himself against it, nearly toppling despite its presence.

All around him the twisted copies of himself closed in, encircling him as he now stood, back against the wall. "You can be with her again. It's what you want. What we want… why deny it any longer?" All three copies said in unison, their words cutting deep to the shame at the very heart of Corrin's being.

A pit of shame formed in Corrin's chest. He couldn't deny their words, even as much as he wanted to. They were right. That's what he wanted… from the moment Azura died, he wanted nothing but to follow her into death. To be with her again in the world beyond this.

Yet...

"I want you to live, even if I cannot…"

Azura's words echoed in his mind, reminding him of his promise. It had been that promise that had forced him to carry on, to deny what he wanted most. To linger on… all for that promise…

If not for that promise… he would have surely followed her into the void.

"Just give up. It's useless to deny it," the four copies taunted in unison.

He'd promised Azura. He'd given her his word…

He couldn't go back on it now.

"No! I won't! I promised… I promised her I wouldn't give in!" Tears streaming down Corrin's face, he leaped forward, swinging Yato in a sweeping, desperate slash, one all four of his foes easily avoided. Yet it put some distance between them, buying him some time.

One last desperate struggle, what little fight he had left fueling his movements now. He slashed widely, fending off blow after blow coming in from all sides. All through it all, he screamed, defiant in one last frantic struggle to keep that promise. "Everyone is counting on me… I can't… I won't... I'll overcome this! I'll-"

The hilt of a blade caught him in the shoulder, driving him to one knee and knocking the wind from him. He coughed, fresh blood welling at his lips.

"Oh, will you now? Can you face what you'll find at the heart of this place?" the battle-worn Corrin taunted. "You already know, don't you? We already know. You'll find out that no matter what you do, no matter what choices you make, they all end the same."

"No..." Corrin shook his head, the word slamming into him with the weight of any physical blow. His resolve cracked, and with it the wave of doubt he'd so desperately tried to deny came crashing down.

"I… I won't listen! I-"

A flicker of movement at the edge of his vision alerted Corrin to the attack the moment before it fell. He managed to raise Yato, barely fending off the overhead slash from younger, Ganglari wielding Corrin.

"No matter your choice, you won't save any of them. Not your mother," his doppelganger taunted.

Before Corrin could even muster a response, let alone a counter-attack against his copy, the beastial half-transformed copy-Corrin barreled towards him. Claws dug into his left arm, rending flesh and tearing muscle, leaving the limb dangling lifelessly at his side. "Not the countless lives taken by our hands!" the beastial Corrin roared.

With a howl of pain, Corrin managed to bring Yato to bear, the pain fueling the blow to deliver enough power to launch the copy off of him. Within his mind he too struggled, fighting to remain afloat within the sea of doubt and despair swallowing him whole. Yet every word they spoke dragged him further down, tearing away every lifeline he threw himself, every attempt he clung to as to deny what he'd feared from the very start.

"And not her!" the copy dressed in his wedding clothes finished, sweeping Corrin's arm wide before delivering a kick that sent him sprawling. "No matter what you do, there will be no happy ending, no future with her! That is your fate."

"That is our fate. A fate you can't bear to live through a second time," the first copy told him, stepping forward with Yato raised high. "Just once nearly broke you. How can you go on if you have to live through it all over again."

All Corrin could do was lay there, his body no longer obeying any of his commands. The pain… the pain was so unbearable… every movement utter agony.. He didn't have the will left to force his broken body into motion. He had no fight left.

He couldn't beat them… they were too strong… he just couldn't win…

And with that realization, something broke within Corrin. A sob wrenched itself from his throat, his whole body heaving with the sound. They were right. Dammit, they were right! He couldn't do this even if he made it past them. How could he go through it all again? The loss of those he cared about, the guilt of the lives he stole! The mistakes. The regrets. The failures. All of it!

There's no point… no point in going on. It's my fate… I'm weak… too weak to face it again… too weak to face the truth… too weak to escape my fate...

A single tear ran down Corrin's cheek.

Azura…. I'm… I'm sorry… I tried to keep my promise… I tried… but I couldn't do it…

The tear from his chin glinted silver in the ghostly white light as it fell. For an instant something flashed in the reflection of the droplet: the form of a woman in white, her aqua hair flowing around her…

...a gentle hand outstretched and a warm smile on her face.

Then the droplet splashed against the floor, ending whatever vision had been caught on its surface. A soft gentle voice filled Corrin's mind, sounding distant yet clear, as if emanating from the depths of memory.

"No matter what happens, dear love... I will always be with you."

Clawing at the ground, Corrin dragged himself forward.

"Even if I am gone, we will still walk this road together, until we reach a world full of hope and light."

"Remember, even if we must part, I want you to live, even if I cannot…"

His whole body shuddered at he forced himself upwards, his body screaming in agony with every motion.

"Keep on smiling. For both of us"

He felt his body twist and warp, using his transformation to force his broken bones and torn muscles back into place.

"You are stronger than you realize. No matter how much misfortune follows you… I know you will find a way to go on… I truly believe that

Rising fully to his feet, Corrin stood defiantly before his copies, Yato blazing with crimson light. "I won't… give in… even if it's hopeless… even if I can't win… I will keep fighting," he spat. He tasted blood on his lips, his vision still blurring before him. "I made a promise… one I'll die to keep."

I won't let her down. Not again. Not even if it means my death.

The lead phantom leaped for him, it's own Yato blazing with light to match Corrin's own.

Then blue light flashed, intercepting the attack. Yato spun from the copy's grasp. For an instant the ghostly Corrin hung still, frozen in place. Then it reeled back, white light erupting from a deep gash across its chest, billowing smoke as the flesh around it was seared away by that radiance.

"Your words shine true, Lord Corrin," Lucina announced, standing between him and his remaining copies, Falchion shimmering with a crystal blue radiance. "Even in what seems like certain defeat, you found the resolve to challenge your fates. Now allow me to forge a path forward, while your goal remains yet at hand!"

Author's Note: Sorry for yet another long delay on this one. Unfortunately, I got kinda burned out on writing this story, so I needed a bit of a break where I wrote a few oneshots. That plus the holidays taking up a lot of time meant I couldn't write as much as I'd have liked once I no longer felt as burned out. Still, the one-shots were a nice change of pace, and you should totally go check them out.

Regardless of my own failures at getting chapters out on time, I guess it's time to respond to guest reviews

Dracofighter - Yeah, I have been trying to fix up some of the spelling mistakes, but the last chapter suffered probably due to having had one of my two beta readers being busy and unable to look it over. Though recently I have been fixing up old chapters thanks to the help of a friend who has been kindly been helping me with that.

LBWolf - Thank you for taking the time to review, and I am glad my writing style was enjoyable. I definitely can agree there are places I could have expanded on scenes and rushed less. Often it comes down to time and not being able to write often enough to justify dragging the story out longer.

Anyhow, that's all for now. I look forward to hearing what you guys thought of this one. Until next time, have a wonderful day everyone.