Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 3 ❯ CHAPTER 88: REBIRTH ( Chapter 22 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Soren woke early, washed and dressed himself in his best clothes, ate a quick breakfast, strapped on his knife belt, and slid his tome (which was packed full of fresh spells) into the holster on his hip. Then he proceeded to the courtyard in front of the Tower of Guidance to hear Yune’s announcement with everyone else.

“You should prepare for what you may see when you enter the tower!” she began. “I have no doubt Ashera has made it bigger on the inside than the outside, and there is no telling how many troops she will have guarding the lower levels. The higher you go, the more powerful her influence becomes. But you will have to resist her! Ashera is the goddess of the past, of memory. You must hold on to your presence of mind or you will become lost…” Despite the fact that everyone was hanging on her every word, Yune became suddenly distracted. She appeared to be staring through the assembled troops instead of at them. “Oh no!” she suddenly cried out.

“Yune, what is it? What’s happening?” Ike demanded, stepping forward.

Everyone started glancing around and up at the sky.

“Turn around! Defensive positions!” Tibarn ordered, and they all obeyed.

Soren ran to the edge of the group, and from here he could see white and purple lights tessellating across streets, yards, gardens, terraces, and roofs around them. The crawling lights went on as far as he could see. Disciples of Order were being transported—a lot of them.

“This isn’t good…” muttered Caineghis nearby. Giffca put a hand on his arm as if to steady them both.

A moment later, the lights disappeared and in their place were perfect rows and columns of golden-armored soldiers in a vast semicircle around the Tower of Guidance. Some had been teleported on top of last night’s camp, crushing tents and charred cookfires underfoot. Others appeared on the balconies and rooftops of mansions and halls of state. Still others appeared in gardens and even in the middle of fountains and water fixtures. The perfect geometry of their deployment disregarded the terrain beneath their feet, and neither did the Disciples themselves seem to care. Not a single one moved or made a sound, and although Soren was looking right at them, he couldn’t feel their presence with his Branded sense. Something was very wrong.

“These soldiers…” Yune said, pushing her way to the front. “You’ve killed them already. They’ve been reborn in flesh but not spirit.”

At this declaration, a shudder of confusion and awe rolled through the ranks of Yune’s Chosen. Soren peered closer and saw the pegasus knight Catalena in one of the rows nearest him. Her face was blank but otherwise looked healthy—radiant even. She certainly didn’t look dead. Although she was still wearing cavalry armor cut in the Holy Guard’s style, she wasn’t riding a pegasus now. In fact, none of these soldiers were mounted.

“Brought back from the dead…” Sanaki breathed in disbelief.

“A miracle of the Goddess…” Elincia seconded.

“A blasphemy, you mean!” Caineghis growled. “How could a Goddess of Order violate the most fundamental law of nature?”

“Philosophy later, everyone!” Ike scolded, drawing his sword. He walked forward to stand beside Yune at the head of her tiny army. “They’re about to attack!”

Although the Disciples had merely stared at them unmoving until now, they started to run a moment after Ike’s declaration. They remained silent as they charged, without offering a single shout, roar, challenge, or insult. Their faces lacked emotion, reaction, or desire. They merely raised their weapons, and ran.

After sending a few Elwind spells into the nearest Disciples, Soren fell to the rear, letting Caineghis and Giffca—two massive lions, one scarlet red, one pitch black—take care of the first row. Soren knew he would be most useful if he cast Blizzard, Meteor, and Bolting spells to help thin the enemy ranks from afar. There were at least two thousand Disciples and yet only sixty-five capable fighters among Yune’s Chosen, so Soren tried to make every spell count.

Meanwhile Ike was running around giving orders, trying to break the group into platoons that could function as teams. Fortunately those who’d travelled together these past couple months already knew how to work together, and they easily coalesced into the formations Ike called out.

Since he was in the back, Soren glanced over his shoulder to check on the non-fighting members of their group. The merchants were pressed into the threshold of the tower’s entrance. Daniel was holding Amy, and Jorge was trying to distract her so she wouldn’t look at the battle. The veiled woman in a black dress, whom Soren had learned to be Pelleas’s mother and the dowager queen of Daein, was curled up in the corner, apparently ignoring everything.

Soren was surprised Ena and Kurthnaga weren’t there, and while chanting another Blizzard spell, he tried to locate them. It didn’t take long, however, because a moment later, they were both towering over the heads of everyone else—especially Kurthnaga. Although Ena’s dragon form stood about twenty feet tall, Kurthnaga’s was pushing thirty; and his wings and tail were much larger. With blood-curdling roars, the dragons stomped to the front, where everyone made way. Soren was pleasantly surprised the Dragon Prince was finally willing to fight. Yune’s Chosen wouldn’t have had much hope of defeating the Disciples without him.

However, he did seem to be holding himself back. While Soren watched, Kurthnaga and Ena aimed their breath (his a blue beam, and hers a red flame) on the Disciples in the street. The ground split with trenches and craters, and the Disciples standing there were burned to a crisp. Kurthnaga was able to kill several soldiers with each blast, but he was clearly avoiding firing upon any buildings. After a moment’s thought, Soren realized this was probably due to the stone people inside.

Eventually the battle spread out enough that Soren could no longer target distant Disciples without hitting his own allies. Staying in the rear was useless, so he flipped away from his long-distance spells and ran forward. On the way, he cast Tornado as a layer of wind armor, and when he reached a place where Disciples ran at him from three sides at once, he slid to a halt and started releasing offensive spells.

When his first Bolganone spell devoured a Disciple’s legs and he didn’t move again, Soren was relieved to see that these reanimated opponents could die a second time. Next, he cast a series of Elwind spells, clipping off enemies’ helmets, breast plates, pauldrons, and cuisses by breaking the gusts into carefully-targeted blades that sought out the leather straps holding the blessed armor together. When the armor fell away, the magic went with it, and this allowed his comrades to charge in and strike their vulnerable bodies. There was little he could do about the chainmail (which was likely also enchanted), but it appeared merely removing the plate armor made a considerable difference. Nephenee’s lance found a Disciple’s lung. Astrid’s arrow found one’s neck. Heather’s knife found one’s femoral artery. Zihark’s sword cut one’s spine. Mordecai’s jaws crushed one’s brain.

All the while, Soren was running, rolling, ducking, and dodging to avoid the Disciples’ own lances, arrows, daggers, swords, and axes. The Tornado around him blocked what he couldn’t avoid, saving him repeatedly, but he had to constantly funnel power to it. If he became distracted and let it weaken, the blades found his flesh instead.

Finding himself nearly surrounded and with his left arm already broken from the bite of an axe, Soren started retreating. However, he soon realized there was nowhere to retreat to. The battle was all around him, and the only safe bastion left was the entrance to the tower, where the merchants were cowering under the protection of what appeared to be Sanaki, Naesala, Leanne, Sigrun, and Tanith. Sanaki was incanting powerful Bolganone, Cymbeline, and even Rexflame spells, conjuring walls of fire and lava to incinerate the Disciples who got too close. Meanwhile, her flying companions were distracting the archers and eliminating them before they could hurt the empress.

Soren couldn’t watch much longer, and even if he contemplated trying to help them, he was too far away. He was barely surviving as he was, and his painful, unwieldly arm was making things even more difficult.

While holding his tome in his right hand and keeping his feet moving to avoid becoming impaled by the Disciples’ lances, Soren switched to Elthunder and Thoron spells. He willed the electricity to jump from one Disciple to another, trying to kill, incapacitate, or at least stun as many enemies as possible with each incantation. This was in an effort to prevent himself from being completely surrounded, but no matter how many bodies Soren dropped, there were always more. The Disciples kept coming. They pushed forward, separating the survivors from one another. They demonstrated strategy and expert use of their weapons despite the fact that their faces remained blank and unthinking.

When a large legion of archers approached, Soren released all of the thunder spells he’d been holding but kept his Tornado shield. All at once, they fell in a spattering of bolts on the soldiers around him, but Soren wasn’t even aiming anymore. He’d immediately begun chanting the words to Rexcalibur, knowing it would be the only spell that could save him and the people around him. “*-Ravage all you encompass!*” he finished, and the prism of freezing winds encased a dozen or so archers at the center of the formation. Some of the ones on the outside managed to fire their bows before the spell exploded, but the gyrating winds expanded, slicing everything within their reach. Heads, arms, legs, bows, quivers, and pieces of armor flew in every direction. Soren funneled his strength into the attack, willing the furthest ring to remain deadly sharp until the spell faded. When all was done, most of the regiment was dead.

Panting hard, Soren tried to utter his next spell as clearly as possible. He didn’t have time to assess his handiwork. He didn’t have time to be grateful that his plan had succeeded. He didn’t have time to breath or slow down or worry about the amount of magic he was expending. There were simply too many enemies; he had to keep fighting.

A few minutes later, however, Soren finally had some room to breathe, because Micaiah strode into this part of the courtyard. She was walking without fear, but she was clearly enraged. Looking at her face, Soren was surprised to see her eyes were still red. This wasn’t Micaiah at all; it was Yune. She held a tome in her hand, but she wasn’t saying any words. She merely cast out her hands and obliterated the Disciples with spears of white light, which instantly melted whatever they touched.

“Close your eyes,” Yune ordered, and Soren clamped them shut. Whether Skrimir or the others nearby also obeyed, he didn’t know. But he hoped they did, because the light shone straight through his eyelids and he had to smother his face in his sleeve. He felt a strange warmth, and when he opened his eyes again, all of the Disciples in a twenty-yard radius were lying on the ground, their golden armor melted into their disfigured bodies. Yune walked on.

After getting over his shock, Soren proceeded in a different direction and continued to fight. Soon he encountered more survivors fighting more Disciples. Pelleas was here, turning his waves of dark magic on the impassive, golden-armored soldiers. Lethe was slashing and biting, jumping off of the walls of buildings, running in tight circles, and doing whatever she had to do to reach the Disciples’ weak points. In an adjacent alleyway, Lyre was doing the same thing. The blonde archer from Daein was kneeling on a nearby roof, firing arrows into any new Disciples that tried to enter the street. Soren stopped here to help, falling back on wind magic despite the close quarters. When everyone was dead, he, Pelleas, Lethe, and Lyre ran to the mouth of the street, and the archer jogged across the shingles.

Soren hadn’t seen Ike since the beginning of the battle, but when he next crossed the path of a Greil Mercenary, he was sure to ask.

“I saw him a minute ago,” Mia answered, grunting while she blocked an enemy sword with his own. “He was looking for some sort of commander, but I don’t think there is one. I mean, ugh, it’s not like they’re relaying orders, right? Argh!” Finally catching some leverage, Mia disarmed and disemboweled her opponent.

“I agree,” Soren replied, “Ashera must be controlling them all.”

“Then I really hope that hurt her.” Mia spat on the corpse of the twice-dead soldier.

“I would not count on it.” With that, Soren jogged away, and Mia came with him.

“Your arm looks pretty bad,” she said, cast him a sideways glance.

Soren had to agree it did; it also felt pretty bad. It was bleeding, swelling, and every jostle likely exacerbated the break, but these things were so obvious that he didn’t reply.

“C’mon, I think Mist is over here!” She pulled him into a side street, and Soren knew they were circling back around to the tower. Before long, Mist came into view. She appeared to have turned this alley into a small triage unit. Rafiel was having an arrow removed from the base of his neck while Nailah guarded the entrance. Stefan was also here, applying elixir to a wound of his own. Soren leaned against the wall to wait for Mist, and Mia ran off again with a quick farewell.

“Have any of you seen Ike?” Soren asked while he waited.

Stefan shook his head.

“A little while ago,” Mist answered without looking away from Rafiel. “He was fighting Oliver again.”

“He was brought back as well?” Soren shook his head in annoyance. “How many times is that man going to have to die?”

“He died pretty quick this time,” Mist returned conversationally. “He was wielding a sword. It was pretty silly to watch.”

This gave Soren pause. “I had noticed there weren’t any mages among these Disciples.”

“No stave healers either,” she added. The green glow from her own staff faded, and Rafiel touched the fresh pink skin near his neck.

“Thank you, Mist,” he said softly.

“Any time, Rafiel. Now, please rest a moment. Queen Nailah’s keeping us safe here.” The heron gave a small nod, and Mist finally turned toward Soren.

“That would make sense if they cannot speak,” Soren thought aloud. “If they don’t have healers, perhaps we can win this after all.”

“Unless Ashera just brings them all back again…” Mist replied, surprising him with the pessimism in her voice.

“Unless that,” Soren agreed and hoped it wasn’t the case. While Mist attended his arm, he considered the consequences of this morning’s ambush. If Ashera could regenerate her Disciples repeatedly, Yune’s Army would have to split into two groups: one to guard the entrance to the tower and one to fight their way to the top. Depending on how long it took for Ashera to revive them, there might be time to make fortifications around the base. But so much was still unknown. They were supposed to already be in the tower by now, not running around Sienne fighting undead soldiers. Even Yune hadn’t seen this coming.

“All set!” Mist sighed happily, and Soren moved his arm up and down, bending and unbending his elbow to test that everything still worked. A moment later Boyd and Lucia stumbled in, both bleeding but holding each other up. “Boyd!” Mist cried in alarm and rushed toward them. Soren moved around the new party, vacating the alleyway.

“Ike?” he asked Nailah hopefully.

She seemed to understand his question and sniffed the air a moment. Then she tossed her head to the right. “That way.”

Soren nodded his thanks and ran.

 

When Soren reached them, Ike was fighting from below while Elincia fought above. Geoffrey was on their right and Renning on their left, both mounted and keeping their horses moving as they evaded the Disciples’ long lances. Soren turned to his fire spells, casting Bolganone and Elfire to help break up and burn the Disciples trying to surround them.

As the minutes ticked by, Soren realized the battlefield was changing. He’d become used to the constant flow of soldiers, but finally it was starting to let up. There was more room to see what was happening, although there was less room to move due to the bodies on the ground. Soren could hardly believe they were winning.

Kurthnaga was in the sky, and his shadow raced over the battle. He was firing as he flew, and he seemed to be less careful now. His breath grazed buildings, and rubble fell into streets and gardens. When he landed farther down the street, he stomped and swatted Disciples, and his tail whipped into buildings behind him. Soren didn’t mind if he was careless (so long as he didn’t entirely lose control and start hurting his allies).

Returning his attention to his immediate surroundings, Soren was relieved to find that being distracted was no longer a life-threatening mistake. He wasn’t being beset from all directions. He could look around, catch his breath between spells, and aim them more carefully. He fought his way to Ike’s side and stayed there, casting Elwind and Tornado, until the battle finally came to an end.

 

When the Disciples stopped coming, Yune’s Chosen regrouped in front of the tower. There were dead Disciples everywhere and their campsite was in ruins, but at least none of the dead were rising again. As the royals took a headcount of their subjects and friends, they reported that no lives had been lost. However, many people were injured, and the army’s healers were treating them now—except for Micaiah, who was nowhere to be seen.          

Ike walked around looking for her, and Soren helped search. But then Titania approached and jerked her thumb over her shoulder at where Sothe was grumpily sitting with his arms crossed next to the half-standing remains of a tent. Micaiah’s bent back could be seen on the other side.

“Uh, I’ll go talk to her,” Ike said, setting out in that direction.

“Is she Micaiah, or Yune still?” Soren asked Titania, but she just shook her head. “I couldn’t get a good look. Yune, I think. That must be why Sothe is not with her.”

Soren watched Ike gingerly approach the goddess and decided he wanted to hear what she had to say. Even if everyone trusted Yune now, Soren was still suspicious. He couldn’t forget what he’d seen a child, and watching her lay waste to her enemies using Micaiah’s body had been too familiar a sight to ignore. He jogged in their direction, while Titania hissed: “Soren, be careful! Don’t spook the poor girl.” (Soren thought that was strange advice for dealing with a goddess.)

“I-I shouldn’t have done that,” Yune was saying with Micaiah’s voice when he approached. “I shouldn’t have fought.”

“You were a big help on the battlefield,” was Ike’s reply, but his eyes slid to Soren’s and he raised his hand in a warning gesture. Soren stopped.

Yune sniffed and wiped her nose. “It was unfair to Micaiah. I put too much of myself in her. I could have hurt her.”

“Aren’t you always inside her?” Ike asked in confusion.

Yune wiped her nose again. “Not entirely.” She reached out a hand, and the bird that was always hanging around her flew from a bit of wreckage and alighted on her finger before hopping to her shoulder. “I only give her as much as she can take.”

Ike nodded as if this made sense, but Soren doubted he understood. Soren didn’t even understand. “So why did you fight?” Ike asked, changing the subject.

Yune buried her head in her hands. “I was just so- so-” She started to cry again.

“Are you going to be alright?” Ike asked, lowering himself to one knee in front of her. “Those dead soldiers really got to you, didn’t they?”

“…We can’t win,” Yune said, dropping her arms. “All we do is kill the flesh, but she will just bring the flesh back… We need more time… No, there is no more time! Everyone else will be turned to stone…and I will be lonely forever. There’s nothing more that I can do! I’ve failed… I’ve failed.”

“Yune!” Ike scolded. “Get ahold of yourself!” He grabbed her head between his hands, forcing her to look at him. Soren thought manhandling a goddess was probably a bad idea, but he didn’t stop him.

“Ouch! My ears!” Yune complained, wrenching her head side to side. Ike let go. “Wh-what was that for? You big bully! Who do you think I am?” She scrambled to her feet, and Ike stood too.

“Yune, the Goddess of Chaos,” Ike answered. “…The warmhearted being whose courage and loves gives us the will to go on.”

“Ike...” Yune stared at him for a moment, and this time, when she wiped her eyes, they stayed dry. “Thank you.”

Ike stepped back, and his gaze fell on Soren again. He seemed to take a small, steadying breath and then turned back to Yune. “As things stand now, we won’t be able to bring everyone into the tower. We’ll need to leave people here to hold this position. But at the very least, how many are we going to need inside?” Soren was relieved Ike already saw the problem the undead troops posed. 

“They’ll have much stronger forces inside the tower…” Yune began, “not to mention Ashera herself. We’ll send our best dozen. Oh, and we’ll want the two dragons!” She tapped her chin as if thinking. “And one from the heron tribe… And, uh, the empress. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to have Sothe.” At this name, Sothe crept around the side of the tent, revealing that he’d been monitoring the situation the whole time—undoubtedly waiting for Yune to give Micaiah her body back. She gave him a small, knowing smile when he appeared.

“Understood,” Ike said. “If that’s everyone, I’ll make some decisions and gather them together.”

Yune turned to Sothe. “Once we get inside, I’ll leave most of the fighting to Micaiah,” she said. Bringing her hands together, she closed her eyes, and the ghostly blue fire started swirling around her again. This time, however, it settled back into her own skin. “Something like this should work,” she declared brightly, opening her eyes. “She’ll be stronger now, even without me.” With that, she closed her eyes again, and when she opened them this time, they were Micaiah’s. However, they also immediately rolled back in her head.

“Micaiah!” Sothe yelled, catching her and falling to his own knees with her in his arms.

Ike tapped Soren’s shoulder. “Let’s give them some space,” he suggested, and they walked back to where the rest of the army was waiting.

“Who are you going to choose?” Soren tried not to reveal his fear that he wouldn’t be chosen, that Ike would enter the tower and fight Ashera without him. But at the same time, Soren knew he certainly wasn’t the strongest in this army. It would make sense for him to choose the powerful laguz kings (and queen), savants like Pelleas and Bastian, and expert blade-masters like Stefan and Lucia.

“Well, I haven’t completely decided yet…”

“If you would like me to make suggest-”

“Thanks, but I think I know who I want.”

“Of course,” Soren replied curtly, annoyed that he’d cut him off.

Ike seemed to regret it too. “Sorry,” he said, glancing to the side. “I mean…I know who I want to be the core of the group.”

“Oh?” Soren tried to seem objective and aloof.

“There’s only one team I’d trust with something as important as the end of the world,” Ike replied, and he stopped before they reached the rest of the army. “My family: the Greil Mercenaries.”

“The- the mercenaries,” Soren repeated, hardly believing what he was hearing. “You’d choose us for this?”

“I can’t think of anyone who would do a better job,” Ike replied, and he was smiling now.

Soren tried to rein in his surprise. After all, he trusted Ike’s judgement. “Very well,” he said, “That’s ten. Who else?”

“Maybe Elincia, she’s practically one of us at this point. And Ranulf, he’s a true friend…” Ike thought aloud.

“Both would be excellent choices,” Soren replied simply. “I trust you will choose well.”

Ike resumed walking. “Then again, I can’t imagine Skrimir would let me take Ranulf without taking him too. Hmm, I wondered if Yune would say no to a baker’s dozen.”

“I am sure you could get away with it,” Soren returned favorably, “Somehow, I doubt Yune knows what a baker’s dozen is.”

This made Ike chuckle. “Twenty then,” he said after a while. “Twenty of us will enter the Tower of Guidance.” Then he seemed to second guess himself. “Unless, well… I’ll give them the choice.”

“You always do,” Soren replied coolly. “But they always choose to follow you anyway.”

 

For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, Yune’s Chosen cleared the dead soldiers away and used rubble, furniture, and whatever else they could find to build a series of three barricades around the entrance to the tower. They also stockpiled their supplies. Meanwhile, Ike met privately with each member of the Greil Mercenaries to ask them to join him. Apparently he wanted each of the mercenaries to agree without the pressure of their comrades watching.

 However, there was one mercenary who realized what he was doing before he reached her. Titania approached him during the lunch break, and by this time, Soren judged that only half of the mercenaries had been recruited.

“Ike…” she began, kneeling by the cookfire where Mist was serving porridge and everyone else was waiting with bowls. “Commander Ike,” she amended. “I know what you are doing.”

“Uhh…”

“Please...” Titania grimaced as if in deep pain. “I agree with your judgement, and I know the Greil Mercenaries will not let you down. But please… Do not ask me- Do not choose me for this mission.”

Ike stared at her in bewilderment.

“I am not as strong as I once was,” Titania continued, and the lines in her neck and the corner of her eyes seemed clearer. The feathering of white hairs on her head shone in stark contrast against the brilliant red. She seemed suddenly smaller, although Soren knew she was still a tall and powerful horsewoman. “And I am not the right choice for this mission. I can better use the terrain out here. Choose someone else to fight beside you.” Unslinging the poleaxe from her back, Titania brought it in front of her and placed the head on the ground. She held it in both hands and leaned her forehead against the long handle. “Let me fight here, in Greil’s name, with his axe. Let me fight here, with King Caineghis on my right and Lord Renning on my left. Let me fight here, for Crimea and all of Tellius, for beorc and laguz, against Ashera’s unholy army. For so long as I draw breath, I will not let them set foot in that tower. I will watch your back, Ike…but you no longer need a deputy commander.”

“Titania…” Ike reached out both of his hands to touch her shoulders. He leaned his own head against the axe’s shaft. “Then, I will not ask you to do this.” With that, he leaned in and hugged her around the weapon. Titania embraced him back, just as fervently.

“I am so proud of you, Ike,” she breathed, cupping the back of his head. “I am so proud of the man you’ve become. I wish Greil could see you. I know he would be so, so proud.”

Soren couldn’t see Ike’s face, but when they finally parted, he caught the glimmer of moisture just below his eyes. “Thank you,” he said, “Thank you, Titania. For everything.”

“If you meet Zelgius in there,” Titania said, reaching out a hand to thumb away the wetness on his check, “I know you will defeat him. You are stronger and wiser now than you have ever been. Just by living and growing these past years, you have avenged Greil’s death a hundred times over.”

Ike hung his head. “Thank you.”

“He’d be so proud,” Titania said again.

Looking around, Soren saw that Mist, Rhys, and Oscar were all crying. Gatrie and Mia were both aggressively wiping their eyes. Boyd had an arm around Rolf’s shoulders. Even Shinon seemed moved (or at least, he was staring at the ground with an oddly saddened expression).

Eventually Rolf broke the silence: “Um, does that mean the rest of us are coming with you, Ike?” he asked. Apparently, he was one of the ones Ike hadn’t asked yet.

Taking a deep breath, Ike turned toward them and placed his fists on his knees. The fire beneath the porridge pot flickered in his eyes. “Yes,” he answered, “If you all want to go. I’ve asked some of you already-”

“Of course, I’m coming!” Mia said suddenly. “Just try to leave me behind!”

“I’m in,” Gatrie chuckled, “You know that.”

“I’ll be with you, Ike,” Rhys said solemnly.

“We’ll come,” Oscar said, with an arm around Boyd and Rolf’s shoulders. Both brothers nodded sharply with excited grins.

“You wouldn’t make it far without me.” Shinon tossed his shoulders. “So yeah, I’ll be there.”

“You know I’m coming,” Soren said next.

“I’m not leaving you,” Mist said firmly. “I’m seeing this through to the end.”

Ike nodded back at them. “I guess that’s it then…”

Titania smiled back at everyone, and her tearful eyes were positively glowing with pride. “Although we may fight in different parts of the field,” she said, “we fight the same battle. Although we fight with different arms, we fight with the same heart. I will be with you, even from out here.”

“We’ll be counting on you, Caineghis, and the others,” Ike said, turning back to her.

“We won’t let you down,” she promised.

With that, Mist awkwardly began ladling the porridge into everyone’s bowls, and they ate despite the dampness still on half their cheeks. Although Soren was certainly not moved to tears like the others, he did find that the porridge stuck in his throat. He had to concentrate just to swallow. He’d never considered Titania a particularly close friend, but they’d worked side-by-side all these years. They knew each other’s secrets and trusted each other in a fight. It would be strange to march into battle with the rest of the mercenaries but to leave her behind.

 

After lunch, Ike and the rest of the mercenaries split up to finish making preparations and pack their bags. Ike advised they take enough vulneraries, water, and rations for three days, since no one knew how long it would take to reach Ashera (and Yune’s vague warning about the tower being bigger on the inside meant they should probably prepare for the worst).

 Soren did the same, and when he was finished, he sought Ike again. But he was momentarily waylaid by Tibarn, who was also looking for Ike. “Where is he?” he demanded, seeming angry about something.

“This way I believe,” Soren replied, walking in the direction he felt Ike’s presence.

Tibarn walked alongside him, grumbling, “What’s he thinking picking Reyson…” and Soren had to assume Reyson was the heron Ike had chosen for the tower mission. He had forgotten to ask.

When Ike came into view, he was talking to Kurthnaga and Daein’s dowager queen. Her veil was flipped back and she was standing straighter than Soren had yet seen her, although she also had an arm linked with Kurthnaga’s for support.

“Hey, Ike!” Tibarn called through gritted teeth and a false smile. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

Ike waved to show he’d heard him. “Well then, Lady Almedha, Prince Kurth, take care of yourselves,” he bid them.

“Yes, and you as well,” Kurthnaga replied.

Just then, Soren and Tibarn reached them.  “Reyson’s not going anywhere without me,” the Hawk King began. “So either pick Rafiel or Leanne instead or I’m coming too.” He crossed his arms as if to say he wouldn’t budge.

Ike gestured for them to walk and talk, while Kurthnaga and the woman walked in the other direction. The woman—Queen Almedha—was stumbling and looking over her shoulder while whispering frantically to the Dragon Prince. But Soren couldn’t hear anything over Tibarn’s tantrum.

 “Well, I don’t see why not,” Ike conceded, and his calm tone revealed that Tibarn’s frenzy was unwarranted. “Since Titania’s not coming, that frees up a spot.”

“Good,” Tibarn declared as if satisfied. “There’s no telling what kind of trouble he’d-”

“Ah! Wait! Wait, stop a moment!” a woman’s voice called, and Soren, Ike, and Tibarn all turned around in surprise.

Almedha was running frantically toward them, while Kurthnaga tried to stop her. “Sister!” he called, and Soren was momentarily stunned by the word. But now that he saw her face clearly, he knew it to be true. Not only was her skin and hair the same color as Kurthnaga’s and Rajaion’s, but she too had a red laguz mark on her face. Instead of being in the center of her forehead like her brothers’, it was just above her temple, half-covered by her hair. Soren realized she had to be second of Dheginsea’s three children: the daughter he’d assumed was dead.

The only problem with such a realization was that she was standing right in front of him, and yet she didn’t feel like a laguz at all. Then again, neither did she feel like a beorc or a Branded. She felt like nothing at all, as if she were some sort of wraith.

“Yes?” Soren managed to say, because she was staring at him instead of at Ike or Tibarn. “Did you need something?”

“You are… What is your name?” Almedha asked.

Soren glanced at Ike, suspecting that he must have said something to set her off, but he just shrugged. “Soren,” he finally answered.

“I-I see.” Almedha stared at him until she shivered and glanced downward. Kurthnaga grabbed her arms as if to steady her. “That…that is a fine name.”

“Thank you…?” Soren offered in response. He glanced at Ike again, but he looked just as confused as Soren felt.

“You’re welcome,” Almedha replied, not making eye contact again.

“Is that all?”

“Ah, yes, yes.” She shook her head. “Pardon me, calling out to you like that… I was confused.” She lifted a hand to her head.

“Don’t let it trouble you,” Soren replied curtly. “If you will excuse us.” He, Ike, and Tibarn kept walking while Kurthnaga dealt with his sister.

When they were far enough away, Soren dared ask, “Did either of you know Daein’s dowager queen was Goldoan?”

“Yeah, for a little while actually…” Ike answered, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can probably guess now why Ena and Kurth were so intent on saving Daein, right? Family’s a big thing for them.” Soren was annoyed that Ike hadn’t said anything sooner, but this must have been the thing Kurthnaga swore him to secrecy about.

“Well, we travelled together from Daein,” Tibarn answered next, “and I knew she wasn’t beorc. Makes sense that she’s got the old lizard’s blood. That lady is strong when she throws her fits.”

“Fits?” Soren repeated.

“Couldn’t you tell?” Tibarn gave a halfhearted laugh, “That lady’s not all there.” He tapped the side of his head meaningfully.

“I guess that’s what happens when you marry ‘Mad’ King Ashnard,” Ike sighed. “Kurth told me the story. Ashnard threatened to hurt Pelleas to control her. He even lured Prince Rajaion into a trap and poisoned him… It all sounds so awful.”

“Pelleas…” Soren thought aloud but stifled what he was going to say. The problem with Ike’s story was that Pelleas wasn’t Branded and therefore couldn’t be the child of Almedha and Ashnard. Could she be lying? Does Pelleas know? Soren wondered and suspected this might be why Pelleas was so interested in the Branded. It was a disturbing thought. Either Pelleas was Ashnard’s child by some other woman, or he wasn’t Ashnard’s child—or the rightful king of Daein—at all.

“Hey, Tibarn, why don’t you go tell Reyson the good news?” Ike said, successfully changing the subject and lightening the mood.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Tibarn replied before flapping away.

Soren and Ike kept walking toward the mercenaries’ spent cookfire. Some of the others were lingering around it, with bags now packed.