Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 3 ❯ CHAPTER 91: MEMORIES ( Chapter 25 )

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

Soren didn’t think the floating stairs and platforms could get any stranger, but they did. Gradually, the vast emptiness began filling with plumes and shreds of curling mist, on which played colored shadows, indistinct but clearly moving. Soren felt he was in a dream, where memories, thoughts, and fantasies swirled together as one. The mist painted scenes, faces, touches, sensations—always too abstract to grasp and yet utterly familiar.

Yune walked with them in Micaiah’s body. “You can look if you want to,” she said, noticing their straying eyes and their whispers. “You can talk about what you see. Just as you would ideas in your own head. They won’t hurt you.”

“What are they?” Ike asked quietly.

“They’re memories,” Yune explained. “Ashera’s power stirs them.”

“Whose memories?” Mia asked uncertainly.

“Some are yours,” Yune answered simply. “Some are others’.” 

“I thought I saw… I thought I saw my brother,” Mia admitted.

“Then that one is probably yours,” Yune replied, apparently oblivious to her emotional distress.

“I thought I saw my home, the old farmhouse where…” Gatrie’s voice lapsed into silence.

“You thought you saw—you saw your thought,” Yune sang. “This is one of Ashera’s most marvelous powers!” She suddenly spun on the spot and gazed around her with wide eyes filled with wonder. Soren suspected she saw the images in the mist more clearly than everyone else. “I’ve always been jealous of her connection to the past. It helps her make decisions, just like my connection to the future. But the future is so much more…unknown.” She tossed her shoulders and continued walking.

“That’s not a bad thing,” Ike proposed gently.

“Of course not! I love the unknown,” Yune laughed.

They walked a while longer, and Soren tried to ignore the mist. The others were chatting amongst themselves, quietly sharing stories and asking each other questions about their pasts. Some of the stories were ones Soren already knew. After all, he’d lived amongst these mercenaries for a decade now. And yet, some were sharing details and feelings they’d never mentioned before.

Elincia described running into the throne room just in time to see Ashnard murder her parents. “Uncle Renning kept trying to cover my eyes, but I wanted to see. I just wanted to see my mother one last time.”

Mia described the flames that had devoured her family’s swordsmanship academy, and her family with it. “There was an arm—I don’t know who’s arm it was—on the window sill. They were so close to getting out.”

Gatrie described the first girl he’d ever loved, and how she had broken her neck falling out of a tree when they were both only twelve years old. “It was my idea… They blamed me.”

Oscar described the disappointment in his captain’s face when he submitted his resignation from the Royal Knights. “He said I was throwing my life away…and for a moment, I believed him.”

Rolf described the day he and Mist had been kidnapped by bandits and he’d so afraid he couldn’t move. “I thought maybe I was already dead, and that was why my body wouldn’t work.”

Rhys described his mothers’ hysterical fits and how he’d started teaching himself how to use a Heal staff because she kept hurting herself on purpose. “She would get a scratch or a rash, and she wouldn’t be able to stop, not even when she tore it wide open. Healing it fast was the only way to stop her.”

Mist described the night Greil had come home after Elena’s death. “It was so late, and it was raining. He was all bandaged up, and his hands were so dirty.”

Boyd described the day he’d left his drunkard father to join a gang at the ripe age of nine (before being adopted by Oscar, of course). “He was passed out on the floor, and I wanted him to wake up so I could tell him I was leaving. He didn’t wake up, so I left.”

Even Shinon loosened his tongue, describing the time his mother had brought him to the woods and left him there. “She said she would feed me if I made it back to the house, but if I didn’t it would be better for everyone. She was always going on about mouths to feed. That’s all she saw when she looked at us kids: just mouths.”

Soren supposed they had all had hard lives, in one way or another. After all, most people with loving families, safe homes, and a chance at a real future wouldn’t give that up to become a mercenary. However, these were only some of the stories that were shared, and as the group continued to climb, they also discussed happy, silly, and tranquil times they’d forgotten and which now came rushing back in vivid detail. The time Shinon had helped Rolf save a kitten and nursed it back to health. The time a stray dog had followed the mercenaries for over a hundred miles, only to hump Gatrie’s whenever it found them. The time Oscar had been sick so everyone had taken turns cooking meals—often to inedible results. The time Ike had gotten a rash from a poisonous vine that everyone swore was the exact shape of Crimea. The time Rhys had disturbed a bees’ nest and jumped into a muddy pond. The stories (and random bouts of giddy laughter) continued.

Soren listened to the stories, and although his own mind was awash with memories, he kept his lips clamped firmly shut. He’d never shared them before, and he wasn’t going to now. Too many of his memories were miserable, and he didn’t want any one’s pity. Not even Ashera could weaken his resolve on that matter.

Ike was also keeping relatively quiet, and Soren wondered why he wasn’t avidly sharing stories with the rest. After a long period of silence, he asked Yune: “Are we going the right way?”

“Yes,” Yune answered, pointing straight upward.  “Ashera is at the top. We’re going up. This is definitely the right way.”

“I’m a little disoriented because it’s much bigger than it looks from the outside.” Ike shook his head. “It’s not my imagination, is it?”

“Just don’t look around too carefully.” Yune took his hand and patted it. “True miracles can overwhelm and terrify mortal minds. If you dwell on what you see here, you might stop climbing.”

“Really?” Ike asked, looking up at where the stairs disappeared in the distance.

“Yes, really!” She grabbed his chin and pulled his head down so he was looking at her. Giving him a firm glare, she then released his face and kept walking. “Well, for most people, anyway. You’re all exceptions!” She flung out her arms and suddenly turned around so she was facing the whole group. “You’re all focused on your one goal, and you can’t die until you achieve it. That’s what you think, right?”

In answer, everyone either softly murmured or proudly declared their agreement.

“Desire propels people forward!” Yune explained excitedly. “That’s how it’s been since the beginning of your kind. You hope, take, give, kill, struggle… Out of all those needs and desires, hate and strife are born. And that’s alright! You should want. You should strive to fill that want. You should challenge your fates. When all else fails, you can still die fighting!” She raised both of her fists above her head.

“Your philosophy is pretty extreme,” Ike observed. “Ashera doesn’t forgive people for their imperfections. But you embrace both the good and evil natures of people. You seem to enjoy our internal struggles.”

“A straight road is boring,” Yune laughed. “Defeat and destruction are far more interesting than stasis.” With that, she swung her arms around her, twisted on the spot, and resumed walking.

“Huh.” Ike quickened his steps to follow her. “Is there a goddess who takes a more middle-of-the-road approach?”

“Well, long ago…” Yune started to answer, but then she froze in her tracks. This caused Ike and everyone else to stop too. “Wait. Stop, everyone!” she called. Then she turned to Ike, and her expression was grim. “You should know, the next one who stands in our way is someone deeply tied to you.”

Judging by Ike’s firmly set mouth and hungry gaze, Soren knew he was thinking about Zelgius. Fear squirmed within his stomach, but what could he do now? He’d never been able to dissuade Ike from the path of revenge, and what was the point anyway? They would have to defeat Zelgius to continue onward. If Ike was the only one with a sword capable of doing it, why not let him try? But no matter how Soren tried to justify it to himself, he couldn’t accept it.

“…Let’s go,” Ike said simply, resuming the climb.

“No, let’s rest up ahead,” Yune countered, retaking the lead.

“But we are not tired,” Skrimir growled, apparently thinking he could speak for everyone.

“It’s hard to know whether you’re tired or not here,” Yune argued. “Take time to rest and prepare. There are many enemies ahead.”

“Fine,” Ike gave in. “A break doesn’t sound too bad.”

“We can rest there.” Yune pointed to a platform they were nearing but Soren hadn’t noticed until now. When they reached it, everyone spread out on the flat stone floor, sitting in small groups and continuing to talk among themselves. They checked their weapons and stretched their muscles. They ate, drank, and dozed, and no longer were their heads and voices fuzzy with memory.

Soren approached Ike, because he knew this would be his last chance to talk some sense into him. He was currently polishing Ragnell, which shone with a wicked edge. The holy sword was blessed such that it could never dull or break, so it required very little maintenance. Soren imagined buffing it to a shine was the only way Ike could keep his hands busy and feel like he was preparing for his duel.

“Do you feel ready?” Soren asked by way of greeting.

“Yes,” he answered. “I feel like every fight in my entire life has prepared me for this.”

“But that doesn’t mean you are ready,” Soren argued. “You felt confident in Nados too.”

Ike lowered his sword and glanced up. “I am stronger than I was then.”

“But are you strong enough?” he shot back, knowing he was being cruel but also not caring. He sat down and crossed his legs. “Is it even a matter of strength? One thing you have not gained, even after all this time, is the ability to think realistically. You are still just trying to play the hero.”

“Maybe it’s hard for you to see,” Ike growled. “But I’m not a little kid with the pretend sword anymore! Why can’t you just trust I can do this?”

His words were like an electric shock through Soren’s whole body, and he lost the thread of his own argument. Perhaps it was Ashera’s power still confounding his mind, but he suddenly saw a flash of a little boy batting away bushes with a stick. The little boy looked over his shoulder, revealing a gap-toothed smile.

“P-pretend sword…” Soren repeated.

“I meant practice sword,” Ike amended. He sheathed Ragnell. “I was always sparring while you went out on missions. Father wouldn’t let me use a real-”

“Ike… You… Do you…” Soren didn’t even know what he wanted to ask. He had never pushed Ike to remember the years he’d forgotten. But here, in this place, memories were out of anyone’s control.

“Anyway, what I’m saying is that I’m stronger now,” Ike declared firmly, obviously wanting to get the conversation back on topic. “I can do this.”

“Ike, do you remember the day we met?” He asked before he could reconsider and tell himself it was a bad idea. He’d come here to convince Ike not to fight Zelgius alone; this was entirely beside the point.

“No… I mean, I guess. Sort of. It was a long time ago…” Ike’s teeth were gritted, and he seemed at war with himself. Placing Ragnell aside, he stared at the floor between them, and a crease deepened between his eyebrows.

Soren waited a long time for him to say something else, but when his expression didn’t change, he gave up. He suddenly found he didn’t care to save Ike from himself. He would defeat Zelgius or he wouldn’t—nothing Soren said was going to change that. With this thought in mind, he got to his feet. But then Ike’s hand shot out and seized his wrist. He still wasn’t looking at him, but this was enough for Soren to stay a moment longer.

“I remember,” Ike finally said. “I remember what happened in Gallia…how we first met.”

Soren could hardly believe what he was hearing, and he might have been elated if not for the obvious pain in Ike’s face. Of course, he’d suppressed these memories for a reason.

“My mom, she… My mom…” he struggled to begin. “Mom took me and Mist shopping. I…slipped away. I entered the forest, looking for a stick I could pretend was a sword… And I found this black-haired kid.” Ike finally looked at him, and the depth of his gaze knocked out Soren’s legs. He fell to his knees. Ike released his arm but continued his story: “The boy looked like he was my age, but he was skinny as a twig. He was wearing rags, and his whole body was covered in dirt. He looked like he was about to die… So I gave him my lunch.”

Although Soren had always hoped Ike might remember their lost years, he’d had no idea how painful it would be to have his own past recounted through Ike’s eyes—or as cathartic. Even while the nightmare replayed in his mind, it was oddly consoling to see it play out.

“The boy was like a scared animal at first,” Ike continued, “but he couldn’t resist the food. It was like he’d never eaten anything before in his life. I only had so much on me, so I wanted him to come back to my house. But he just kept shaking his head… So I told the boy I would bring him more food tomorrow, and that he should wait for me at the same time and place. He nodded, and… That was the first time I’d helped someone else, so I felt happy. I felt like I was doing the right thing.” Ike dropped his head into his hands.

“I was happy too,” Soren finally said. “Not because I wasn’t hungry anymore, but because there was someone who had purposefully spoken to me, someone who had purposefully helped me… I was very happy.”

“Right…” Ike lifted his head sadly, as if remembering. “That was in Gallia. People were scared of anything having to do with laguz. I wasn’t even supposed to go into the forest.”

“Yes,” Soren agreed, “back then, people called me a demon and threw rocks at me. I was afraid to go into town, because I thought they would hit me.”

“Soren…”

“I was trying to go to Crimea, and in the forest, I would sometimes stumble upon the beast tribe. They were terrifying, but they never attacked me. Eventually I realized they were pretending I wasn’t there. They would just look through me, and that was worse than if they had attacked me. Hate I could understand. But this was denial. They made me feel like I wasn’t supposed to exist at all, that simply being alive was an affront to the world… That was how the beasts treated me, and I hated them for it.”

“I am so sorry, Soren.” Ike finally met his gaze. “I had no idea it was that bad.”

He shook his head, not wanting the pity in Ike’s eyes. “But you didn’t ignore me or hurt me. You were just kind. You, and your family.”

“You lived with us,” Ike said numbly, and by his expression, Soren knew his memories were all coming back. “You lived with me and Mist, my father, and my- my mother.”

Soren nodded once.

“You knew her,” Ike said in disbelief. “Why did you never say anything?”

“You forgot her,” Soren replied honestly, “and Greil thought it best if I didn’t…pressure you into remembering. I thought it was best too.”

“Why- why did you leave?” Ike asked next, seeming to rack his brain.

“One day, when we were living in Crimea,” Soren began slowly. “I walked into town, and there were bodies everywhere. There were villagers, and soldiers in armor…”

“The medallion.” Ike’s eyes widened in shock. “Father…”

“I didn’t know if you were alive, so I checked the bodies one by one. Ike, I… I saw Elena give her life to get the medallion away from Greil. That was the only thing that stopped him. Then I ran back to the house. You and Mist were both alive, but…I couldn’t stay after that.”

Ike nodded as if remembering. “That night…you asked me to run away.”

“I was just a scared kid,” Soren admitted, upon which a prickling sensation rose behind his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Even when Volke told me the truth…”

“What more could I add?” he returned. “I thought it would only hurt you… And I didn’t want you to be angry at me for keeping it a secret.” 

Ike was silent for a while, but then he nodded. “I understand.” After even more silence, he asked, “So…why did you come back?”

“I wandered Crimea for years…” Soren began, but he didn’t actually want to tell Ike about those hard years alone. He tried to find something positive to say. “I stayed at a temple for a while. The priests thought my Brand was the mark of Spirit’s Protection, just like my old master. They took care of me…for a while. But I never stayed anywhere long. Life was…very difficult without you and Greil,” he admitted, and he wondered if Ike could understand all the things he wasn’t saying. “Eventually I found you again.”

“But I didn’t…”

“You didn’t remember me,” Soren supplied, and he was struggling to fight the pressure behind his eyes now. “But I was still happy. I was happy to see you again… I just wanted to be with the boy who’d held out his hand to me.”

Now Ike’s hand touched his, and it was the same one Soren had always known: so warm and unbelievably gentle despite its size and roughness. “Soren, don’t cry.”

“Cry?” Soren repeated, thinking he would know if he were crying. He touched his cheek and was surprised to find tears there. He hadn’t even felt them falling.

“You may be clever,” Ike whispered with a smile in his voice, “but sometimes you’re completely oblivious.”

“What?” Soren tried to wipe the tears away, but more replaced them.

“Come here,” Ike tugged his arm. When he didn’t move, he pulled his own body across the floor until he was cradling Soren in a hug between his chest and his knee.

“No,” Soren tried halfheartedly to pull away, “don’t treat me like a child. I’m not…”

“I know.”

At that, Soren couldn’t protest. He just sat there limply.

“Really,” Ike said, and he chin lowered to graze Soren’s shoulder, “why do you always have to make me so worried?”

Now Soren leaned into him, surrendering to being held. He managed to wrap his arms around Ike’s back in return, and he smothered his crying eyes in his shoulder.

“It’s all in the past, Soren,” Ike consoled. In response, he just cried.

 

When he woke, he realized he must have fallen sleep. He felt warm and safe despite the fact that he was lying on the stone floor of a floating platform in some sort of nether-space inside the Tower of Guidance. But this comfort was due to the fact that he was still in Ike’s arms (who was also sleeping).

Trying not to disturb him, Soren extracted himself, stood, and glanced around, wondering if anyone had seen. Although most others were sleeping too, some were awake, chatting softly, kicking their feet over the edge, or just sitting quietly together. Yune was the only one walking around, and seeing Soren, she approached him.

“I told you you all needed sleep!” she said brightly. “Meat brains are like that—they get all mushy if they don’t rest.”

Soren wished she would speak more quietly so not to wake Ike, but it was too late. He was pulling himself up now. “How long were we asleep?” he yawned.

“Time is irrelevant!” Yune chirped. “There’s still time to defeat Ashera, and that’s all that matters.”

Ike nodded firmly. “Wake the others. Zelgius is waiting for us.”

Yune gave an exaggerated salute and marched off. Soren watched her go, suddenly nervous to be alone with Ike. Glancing at him now, he was relieved to see that Ike looked at him with no stranger an expression than usual.

“Isn’t this the part where you tell me not to fight him alone?” he asked, stifling another yawn. “Then I tell you I’m not fighting him alone, and you tell me I should let more people help than just Mist?”

Soren didn’t appreciate the fact that Ike was making light of such a legitimate concern, but he signed and answered honestly: “I think I have given up on that. You are going to do it your own way, no matter what I say.”

This response seemed to surprise Ike. “Okay then… Though, this time I was going to let you help.”

“What?” Soren wondered if this was some sort of joke.

“You were part of the family…for a time,” Ike explained softly. “If you want to help avenge him…”

Soren sighed. “That is not the point, Ike. I don’t care about revenge.”

“Oh…”

“Zelgius is your foe. He wants to fight you, and you want to fight him. But just remember: we aren’t here for Zelgius. We are here for Ashera. He’s done a lot of bad things, but she has done worse. Save your strength for the final battle.”

Ike stared at him for several moments but then blinked and nodded. “I’ll take down Zelgius with time to spare,” he promised.

“Then let’s go.” Soren gestured for him to lead, only then adding: “I trust you.”

 

Yune led them up the stairs until they were approaching what appeared to be a giant box. The solid black square grew larger and larger until it blocked out even the abyss surrounding them. The stairs were leading straight into it, and when they arrived, Yune opened the door and left Micaiah’s body, saying only: “Good luck, Ike! Whether you live, die, or lose yourself will be fascinating to see.”

“Wait, what does that mean?” Ike asked, but it was too late. Micaiah was standing there, looking embarrassed

“Um, she’s gone… Shall we?” She gestured at the open door and steps beyond.

These stairs were enclosed in a stone passage and led to a grand stone hall enclosed on all sides. This place felt much more solid than the other platforms, and Soren could almost imagine they were back in Tellius. Although there were no windows, the same silvery blue light illuminated the hall. It was empty except for a single person standing at the center: the Black Knight.

“You’ve come,” he said, and although his voice was warbled by his helmet, it was unmistakably Zelgius’s. “Welcome, son of Gawain. Welcome all, courageous warriors.”

“ARRGH!” Ike roared, running forward at full speed with his sword drawn. Zelgius blocked easily, and they pressed against each other, vying for leverage, until Ike broke away and jumped back. Zelgius didn’t pursue.

“I wonder how I didn’t notice,” Ike spat. “Your composure, bearing, voice…”

Zelgius said nothing.

“I wish I’d had the chance to fight you, General.” Ike shook his head. “It seems obvious in retrospect.”

“Unfortunately for both of us, that opportunity never came.”

“So it really is you. The Black Knight… No, General Zelgius!” Ike adjusted the grip on his sword.

Planting his own blade in the floor, Zelgius removed his helmet. It would have been a perfect time to attack, but Soren knew Ike wouldn’t. The rest of the royals and mercenaries hung back—even Mist who wheeled her horse back and forth as if pacing.

“Ike, I have long looked forward to the day we would fight again. Now that it is here, let us not delay any longer.” After nodding respectfully, he returned his helmet to his head and retook his blade. He started walking backward. “Raise your sword, and begin!”

“Let’s finish this!” Ike agreed, advancing. “C’mon Mist,” he said, and she kicked her horse into a run.

However, no sooner had Ike and Zelgius passed the hall’s halfway mark than a barrier of blue light appeared across the middle of the room.

“No!” Soren couldn’t help but cry, and he wasn’t alone.

Mist’s horse reared in fright, barely stopping in time. She was nearly thrown, and as soon as her steed quieted, she leapt off and banged her fist against the barrier. “Ike!”

“What did you do?” he demanded.

“I wish only to fight you,” was Zelgius’s reply “I won’t allow anyone to interfere.”

“Ike…” Mist called, apparently giving up. She held her palm against the translucent barrier. “Be careful!”

“I will,” Ike promised without turning around. “Trust me, alright?”

“…Alright.” Mist backed away reluctantly.

“It’s better this way,” Ike growled, addressing Zelgius. “Now I can focus on you.”

“No draw. No escape. One wins. One loses,” the general replied. “We shall end this. One of us will live—” he raised the tip of his blade, the holy sword Alondite “—and one of us will die.”

“I’m ready,” Ike agreed, raising Ragnell to match. “Goodbye, General Zelgius.”

Zelgius moved first, faster than he should have given his armor, but Ike caught the strike and parried. Soren watched with such rapt attention, he almost didn’t notice the Disciples approaching. But a moment later, the wave of beorc spilled into the room from the stairwells on either side.

“Form up!” Elincia shouted.

“Look alive!” Tibarn seconded.

“Defensive positions!” Mist cried out, leaping onto her saddle and racing back to rejoin the others before the Disciples could reach her.

Everyone knew what to do, dropping their supplies and drawing their weapons. Tibarn, Reyson, and Elincia took to the air. Skrimir, Ranulf, Ena, and Kurthnaga transformed. Shinon and Rolf began firing arrows as quickly as they could. Micaiah and Rhys starting casting Purge spells around the stairwell entrances, minimizing the flow. Sothe guarded Micaiah, and Gatrie raised his shield, protecting Sanaki, who started chanting Cymbeline and Rexflame spells. Mia cut an arrow straight out the air, her sword arm moving almost too fast to see. Boyd drew his axes and charged with Oscar pulling ahead of him, lance raised. Mist rounded her horse to confront the encroaching Disciples as soon as she reached the others. She already had her sabre drawn, and now she struck and stabbed whomever she could reach, while her steed reared and bucked, crushing bone with steel-shod hooves.

Soren wished he could continue watching Ike fight, but his duel with Zelgius was completely obscured by the Disciples. He had no choice but to open his tome and lend his strength to the fight.

“Eliminate the mercenaries!” shouted the Disciples’ leader. Unlike the others, he was still wearing the red armor of Begnion. Soren recognized him as the young general who’d accompanied Zelgius in Gaddos. Levail was his name, if he remembered correctly. “That is the mandate of our Goddess,” he continued, “But even more importantly, that is the order of your General. Fight with honor, proud soldiers of Begnion!”

These Disciples were no pushovers, and although their numbers were less than the forces deployed by Lekain and Hetzel below, they were much harder to defeat. Despite their best efforts, the mercenaries could take no ground and remained clustered in a defensive ring around the hall’s entrance. “*Glaciate, spirits of wind, and lacerate. Ravage all you encompass,*” Soren incanted, trying to isolate all of Rexcalibur’s power on just a few enemies at a time. Those who fell to their stomachs managed to avoid the prism’s grasp and the blades of wind that followed, but those who didn’t were successfully torn to pieces.

But in this way Soren expended a great amount of power just to take out one or two opponents at a time; he was hardly slowing their advance. Meanwhile, other Disciples were dodging or shielding themselves from Shinon and Rolf’s arrows and Sanaki’s fireballs, and one soldier even had the strength to raise his shield against a direct blast from Kurthnaga. The man’s legs remained firm while the stone tiles cracked around him, and he was pushed into a crater. But he remained strong, and his enchanted shield and armor remained intact.

Apparently frustrated, Kurthnaga ceased the beam and chomped down on soldier instead. The Disciple managed to imbed his sword in the dragon’s lower jaw, stabbing right though his black gums and scaly lips, before dying. Kurthnaga shook his head, roaring angrily, until the sword flung out and hit the wall.

Soren kept chanting, pushing back the Disciples with moats of lava and stunning them with bolts of electricity. However, those who noticed the ground heating under their feet were agile enough to jump back, and those who noticed the air crackling above their heads ducked low and used their weapons as lightning rods. Frustrated, Soren began duel casting with precision, using two spells to take out each soldier.

He would stun them with lightning at the same time he cut them with winds, he would force them to retreat with fire at the same time he struck them with lightning, or he would force them to fall away from the winds at the same time he burned them from above or below with fire or lava. These soldiers may have been well-trained and quick-thinking, but there was little they could do if attacked twice at once. Soren was straining the limits of his own ability, but to his surprise, he found he had more energy left than he imagined. He could cast one more time, two more times. He could keep going.

Whenever there was a gap in the Disciple’s ranks, he would glance at Ike’s duel and still see him trading furious blows with Zelgius. Grateful Ike was still alive, frustrated that he couldn’t help, but reminding himself that he had to believe in Ike—he always turned his gaze back to the battle before his inattention lost him his head.

 

Eventually Levail himself joined the fray, wielding a wicked-looking halberd whose tip was a long blade that came to a find fine point. He spun it with ease, blocking and countering whatever strike his opponents tried to make. The prong and ax-blade were deadly enough, but then Levail would twist his grip at the last second, and the point would dart out like a snake, flicking open deep wounds with grace.

Mia struck him with her sword, but the tip opened her cheek from lip to ear. Boyd struck him with his axe, but Levail unzipped him from groin to knee. Sothe tried to get under his guard with his knives, but he merely slit him from throat to sternum. Tibarn attacked from above with his talons, but Levail nearly removed one of his wings, sending him flopping to the ground. Soren couldn’t believe the Hawk King had been bested so easily, and now he understood why this man had been named general so young.

When Sanaki stepped up to him, Soren thought the empress would certainly be killed. Her footwork was the weakest among them, and Levail was too fast.

“General Levail, stop this at once!” she ordered, and although the man hesitated, he didn’t lower his halberd.

“No,” he finally answered, “I serve only Zelgius now, and he commanded I afford no mercy, even to you, Apostle.” With that, he darted in for a strike.

But Sanaki had already been holding onto a Cymbeline spell, and Soren could see the waves of heat contorting the air. She didn’t even try to move out of the way. The tip of the spear plunged into her gut, and Sanaki seized the handle before Levail could tear the wound. At the same moment, she finally released the spell, and Soren had to shield his eyes from the explosion.

When the flames and smoke cleared, Levail was lying on the floor with the dreadful halberd on the ground beside him, and Sanaki was standing over him, holding the puncture would in her stomach. The general’s armor was scorched black and his entire body was burned, but still he was trying to rise. “General Zelgius,” he coughed. “I’d hoped…to fight for you…a while longer…” With that, he collapsed and died.

Sanaki swayed, but Skrimir lunged to her side, reverting his form and catching her before she could fall. “He was still…my soldier,” the young empress murmured, “…my responsibility.”

While Micaiah, Rhys, and Elincia healed Sanaki, Mia, Boyd, and Tibarn, the others finished off the remaining Disicples and Soren turned his attention to the other side of the hall. The barrier was still up, but Ike and Zelgius were no longer fighting. Running for a closer look, Soren prayed Ike was the victor, but he didn’t know what or whom he was praying to.

What he saw, beyond the wall of blue light, was a long streak of dark blood parallel to a thinner trail beside it. Like twilit shadows, these led to two bodies much smaller than the trails themselves. 

At the end of the large smear was Zelgius, who was sitting against the wall. He must have dragged himself there, unable to walk. Nearby was Ike, hunched over one knee, leaning on his sword for support. The second blood trail led to him, and because it hadn’t been smudged across the floor, Soren deduced Ike had walked to where he was. If Ike could walk while the general crawled, did that make Ike the victor?

Neither man was moving now, but Soren didn’t think either was dead. They seemed to be talking to one another, but Soren couldn’t hear a word. As he watched, blood pooled around them both. Ike was running out of time; he needed a healer.

“Brother…” Mist whispered beside him. She had Micaiah’s Physic stave in hand. “*Physic*,” she commanded, but nothing happened. “I can’t reach him!”

“Allow me,” said Micaiah’s voice, and turning toward her, Soren saw Yune in her eyes. Laying her hand against the barrier, she shattered it in an instant.

Soren and Mist ran to Ike’s side. He looked over his shoulder at their approach, but his face was ashen. “It’s done…” he said, and Soren noticed Zelgius’s helmet was off and his eyes half-closed in death.

“*Physic*,” Mist commanded again, and this time the green light fell upon Ike. When she reached him, he collapsed and his sword clattered to away. But Mist merely pulled him into her lap. “Hang on, Ike, I’m here,” she consoled through tears.

“I-Ike…” Soren choked, but he stepped uselessly to the side. He may have managed a Restore staff in the previous battle, but he was no healer. Only Mist could help him now.

While Soren stood there, hardly restraining his panic, Yune walked over to assess Zelgius’s corpse. “Good job!” she congratulated Ike. “I knew you could do it! Well, I was at least fifty percent sure,” she chuckled, “I certainly hoped you would!”

“It had to be done,” Ike murmured weakly, revealing he was still conscious, “I couldn’t die here… Zelgius might not have had anything…more to do, but…I still have…so much…”

As his wounds closed up under Mist’s care, he seemed to regain some strength and coherence. (And Soren felt he could finally breathe.) Ike tried to get up, but Mist pulled him back down. “Just lie still a moment,” she said. “You deserve a rest. “

“I’m sorry, Mist,” he said, his eyes flickering to hers.

She commanded the Physic staff a second time and then shook her head. “It’s fine. It’s over. It doesn’t change anything.”

Ike inclined his head sadly. “I know, but now I can finally…put Father to rest. I don’t have to…carry him anymore.” With that, tears beaded at the corners of his eyes and started spilling over. “…I miss him.”

“Me too,” Mist agreed, not letting the green light fade. “I miss him all the time.”

By now, the rest of the team was approaching, and they remained quiet as they observed the siblings. Then, one by one, they approached Ike and touched his arm, his shoulder, the top of his head. They whispered words of encouragement and congratulation.

When Ike was finally well enough to stand, Mist backed away. “Let’s move on,” he said, reaching for his fallen sword. “We don’t have much time left.” However, before his fingertips touched the hilt, the blade started glowing. “What?”

Soren’s gaze was drawn to Zelgius’s sword, which was also glowing beside his corpse. “The swords are calling to each other,” Yune observed, as if this were a perfectly ordinary occurrence. She walked over and plucked the blade out of the blood pool. “The holy sword Alondite… It’s the counterpart to your sword, Ragnell. Both were wielded by Altina to defeat me… I think it wants you to take it up.” With that, she turned the sword around and offered the hilt to Ike.”

Ike picked up his own sword and sheathed it before accepting Alondite from Yune. But then he turned to Mist. “Would you wield it?”

In answer, she just held out her hands, and Ike gently laid it across them. “These blades have taken a lot from us…” she whispered. “But we can use them to take a lot more from Ashera.”

“We will,” Ike agreed. He took a step away and winced as if still in pain. He was so covered in blood, his armor so rent, and his mail and clothes torn, Soren couldn’t tell if he’d been completely healed underneath.

“Can you still fight?” Yune asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Yes,” Ike answered, standing straighter. “I will keep fighting. I won’t stop until I die.” With that, he limped past her to address the awaiting group. “Let’s keep moving!” he said. “Take what you need from the fallen Disciples. We move out in ten.”

The group nodded and dispersed. Mist came up beside Ike (having just removed Zelgius’s sword belt and taken Alondite’s scabbard as her own). Throwing the belt over her shoulder, she held her staff in one hand and used the other to support him as they walked away.

Yune, however, lingered by Zelgius’s corpse, and although Soren wanted to be with Ike now, he lingered too. Yune’s eyes were closed, and she seemed riveted to the spot, even while her head and shoulders started to sway. “Who- whose memory was that?” she finally murmured. “It’s one of many… They’re swirling everywhere…” She opened her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. “The tower resonates with their strength. But…who is that? Who do they belong to? …There is such sadness.” She turned her gaze to Zelgius’s body, and her expression was sympathetic. “Zelgius met someone. One lonely soul calling out to another… But he’s no longer with us. Zelgius is gone… And now the soul that remains is alone once more …”

“What are you talking about?” Soren decided to ask, although he was fairly certain she wasn’t addressing him.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But there are someone’s memories interspersed among the rest. Someone else in this tower who has known nothing but loneliness for a long, long time.”

“I suppose we will have to fight them,” he sighed. “If they stand between us and Ashera.”

This response seemed to improve Yune’s mood, and she brightened. “Yes, that is most likely. Through fighting we can see whose conviction is greater!”

“You really are the goddess of chaos, aren’t you?” Soren thought aloud. “You feel pain, cause pain, but you don’t care as long as it entertains you.”

Yune appeared offended. “I care,” she countered, “I always care.”

“Of course. It wouldn’t be entertaining if you didn’t.”

“I just…don’t want to be alone,” Yune said softly. Tears sprung to her eyes, and a moment later, they were Micaiah’s eyes. She blinked and wiped away the moisture in surprise. “What did you say to her?”

“Probably something rude,” Soren sighed, waving his hand. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.” He walked away, wanting to see how Ike was doing.