Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem Tellius Saga: Book 3 ❯ CHAPTER 94: LEHRAN ( Chapter 28 )

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

They continued upward, passing through doors and across winding platforms, until they came to a single long, straight staircase. There was this and nothing else in the void. The steps were illuminated in the same silver-blue light Soren has become accustomed to here, but it now settled low against the stones, as if pressed down by the inky blackness. The mercenaries kept climbing.

Yune walked with them now, and every once in a while, she would murmur to herself about someone’s memories. Soren hoped that didn’t mean there were yet more enemies waiting for them ahead. He didn’t think he had the strength to fight another army.

Eventually the long staircase ended, and they found themselves on a vast hexagonal platform, on the other side of which was the largest set of doors they’d yet encountered. “Everyone, Ashera is close!” Yune announced, “Just beyond these doors. That’s where we’ll find her.” Everyone strode forward, and although their faces were filled with awe and a little trepidation, no one walked with reluctance. 

“We made it,” Ike sighed, “Finally…”

Yune turned to face them all. “You should know,” she announced, “Ashera may have changed since before her slumber. Order and chaos are meant to naturally balance each other. If you take one away, balance is lost. I don’t expect Ashera to have the merest shred of compassion. Talking to her will likely do no good.”

“We don’t have much choice,” Ike agreed, “If talking won’t work, we’ll have to use force. Otherwise, this has all been for nothing.”

“I didn’t come here for nothing!” Skrimir agreed readily.

“Let’s end this!” Tibarn seconded.

“I am willing to do whatever it takes!” Elincia promised.

At this, Ranulf, Reyson, Kurthnaga, Ena, and the Greil Mercenaries all gave their own overlapping vows of readiness.

Ike turned back to Yune. “How about you?” he asked.

“I will lend you my power when the time comes.”

“No, I mean, are you completely chaotic?” Ike clarified, “Are you out of balance? As far as I can tell, you don’t seem to lean too far in either direction.”

“Ashera and I see things a little differently,” Yune explained. Taking a step forward, she took Mist’s hand in her own and smiled adoringly. “During my long sleep, I was wrapped in sweet, gentle music.”

“Heron galdr?” asked Ike.

“Mother’s lullabies?” asked Mist.

“Yes, but more important than the song itself, I was never alone.” She took both of Mist’s hands in hers now, and although she was looking at Mist, it seemed she was looking through her—possibly at all the people who’d carried the medallion before her. “There was always someone singing comfort to me.” With that, she lowered her gaze and Mist’s hands. She stepped back again. “Ashera shouldn’t have isolated herself. She became lonely and bitter, and she lost touch with her people.” Casting her gaze over everyone now, Yune’s expression looked sympathetic. “There is nothing worse than being lonely.” With that, she turned to Ike. “Open it.”

Ike pushed against the door, seeing as there were no handles. “Hold on…” He pressed harder. “This thing won’t budge.”

With a puzzled face, Yune stepped forward and rested her hand on it, as she had unlocked other doors in the tower. But nothing happened. “What’s wrong with it?” she asked, with the whine of a child’s frustration.

The answer came from behind them. “Those doors cannot be opened,” a voice announced calmly, and everyone turned to look. “They have been sealed with powerful magic.”

Ike and Yune pushed to the front. Everyone else fanned out slightly, and Soren ducked past Skrimir so he could see. At the center of the hexagon stood a man with pale skin, long dark hair, and fine white robes, over which he wore a golden stole and a purple sash. On his hip was a light tome and in his hand was a Rewarp staff. Although Soren had only seen him from afar before, he knew this was Sephiran, Duke of Persis, Prime Minister of Begnion, and—if Soren’s suspicions were correct—a very dangerous enemy.

“Sephiran!” Sanaki cried in relief, running to him. “You’re okay… I’m so relieved to see you!”

Sephiran dropped to one knee before her. “I’m sorry to have been cause for concern, Apostle. Forgive me.” Then, without waiting for her permission, he rose.

“Sephiran…” Sanaki seemed suddenly hesitant, but by the openness of her stance, Soren knew it wasn’t for the right reasons. “There’s something I need to tell you—I’m not a true apostle. I didn’t mean to abuse your trust.”

“I’ve known that for some time, Sanaki,” Sephiran replied. “Don’t forget that I was almost a parent to you. It honestly doesn’t make any difference to me whether or not you can hear the Goddess.” His voice was still utterly calm and aloof.

But Sanaki didn’t seem to notice his coldness. She closed the distance between them and wrapped him in a hug before stepping back in embarrassment. “Sephiran… Th-thank you…for having always been there for me.”

“Empress…” Ike walked forward warily. He kept his sword arm raised, his fingers loose and not far from Ragnell’s hilt over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t you tell him about General Zelgius?”

Sanaki glanced from Ike to Sephiran. “Yes,” she agreed, seeming surprised by Ike’s distrust. “I suppose I should. Sephiran, Zelgius is dead… I know you put a lot of trust in him, but he was also closely allied with Daein. I’m sure you’ve heard of Daein’s so-called Black Knight? Sephiran, the Black Knight was Zelgius.”

As expected, Sephiran didn’t show the slightest waver of surprise.

“But that’s probably not news to you, is it?” Ike asked. “After all, it was you he was taking orders from.”

“Wha-” Sanaki rounded on Ike, affronted. “Ike! What are you saying?”

Now he did draw his sword. “A man like Zelgius could never serve conflicting interests… Never. Everything he did, he did for one master. Isn’t that so, Sephiran?”

Sanaki raised her hand as if that would stop Ike and turned hopefully to the prime minister. “I think I understand! You wanted to monitor events within Daein!” she guessed, “You sent Zelgius as a spy.”

“Precisely,” he replied coolly. “I felt it important to observe King Ashnard carefully… That was my goal. At the time, it was relatively easy to get an outsider close to the king. Ashnard was famous for employing powerful men with no regard for their background or social status.”

“Obviously he would have needed no convincing once he saw Zelgius’s bladework,” Ike agreed with a growl in his voice. “The Black Knight tried to take the medallion from my father—and killed him. Tell me, Sephiran, whose plan was that? Ashnard’s or yours?”

Soren shivered at the contemptable name, spoken now with all of Ike’s rage.

“Calm down, Ike!” Sanaki ordered. “Sephiran?” She turned to him in exasperation. “Would you please explain?”

“Sir Ike,” Sephiran answered, “I’m afraid your father’s death was an unfortunate result of Zelgius’s own personal agenda. I did not order Sir Gawain killed… However, I must admit I did ask him to seize the medallion and hand it over to King Ashnard. The Goddess was to be freed…and all living people destroyed.”

Sanaki faltered and fell back a step. “C-come again?”

“You’re insane!” Ike barked.

“I couldn’t be more sane, Sir Ike.” Sephiran closed his eyes a moment. “Attend and learn…” He moved his staff to his opposite hand, and when he opened his eyes, he began his story: “My aim has always been to wake Ashera so that she might pass judgment on all the people of the world. What I needed was a war that would spread across the continent. How could I achieve this? My attention turned to the young Daein prince. I could use the ambitious Ashnard for my purposes.”

“Young?” Ike cut him off. “…Just how old are you?”

Sephiran gave him a small, coy smile and continued: “He was a fierce, merciless warrior, and more than anything, he had an earnest desire to change the world. I gave him the tools to eliminate his father and anyone else vying for the throne. When he became king, I allowed him to know of the Goddess sealed inside the medallion…and he became determined to set her free. He could use galdr to release her…or a massive, continent-spinning war to throw the world into chaos. With the true apostle missing—” Sephiran’s gaze strayed to Yune (or perhaps, Micaiah) “—war was the only option.”

“Lord Sephiran, what are you saying!” Sanaki demanded. “Are you saying you wanted this? You can’t be serious!”

“Sanaki.” Sephiran turned to her. “My long life has shown me the people of this world deserve only destruction. The selfishness, the brutality, the false superiority… The disregard for others, and the endless quarrelling of laguz and beorc… The inescapable shadow of beorc oppression, and the indolent masses ruled by a privileged minority in every nation… It never changes. We have been given many chances to correct our behavior and ourselves, and we have squandered them all. The only remaining hope for a peaceful, orderly world is for Ashera to wipe us all out and begin again… To fulfill my ambition of destroying all beings, I had to use you… I had to betray you.”

Sanaki fell to her knees. “This has to be some kind of monstrous joke…”

“So you’ve been pulling strings all along?” Ike asked.

“Correct.”

“Beyond just Empress Sanaki, you were trusted by a lot of people, Sephiran. I need to understand—did you really betray them all?”

“I did.”

“I don’t need to hear anything else then.” Ike raised the tip of his blade now, so that it was pointed directly at Sephiran’s face. “I’m going to make your death as painful as I know how,” he snarled.

“No!” Sanaki scrambled to her feet and tried (unsuccessfully) to push Ike away. “This can’t be happening! I won’t fight you, Sephiran. I can’t!”

“Poor Sanaki,” he tutted in mock-sympathy. “You’ll have no choice but to fight. The doors leading to Ashera are sealed by my own magic. Killing me is your only way through.”

“Sephiran!” Sanaki sobbed, stepping away from Ike.

“So it was you?” Yune asked curiously, walking calmly forward as if she’d just missed the entire dramatic episode. “All of those memories penetrating my mind were yours…” When she passed Ike, he lowered his sword slightly. “Since we entered this place, I’ve seen what you’ve been thinking, Lehran. Give it up.”

This seemed to have a stronger effect on Sephiran than Sanaki’s begging or Ike’s threats. He winced at the name, and Soren wondered how this beorc man could possibly be the heron of legend.

“Goddess Yune…” Sephiran sighed, sounding sadder than when giving his speech. “Why do you insist on calling me by that name? I discarded it long ago. I’ve changed, Yune. Lehran is a thing of the past. All I want now…is the end of all that is. Please don’t stop me.”

Yune reached out a hand but stopped just shy of touching him. “Lehran…”

Shivering slightly, Sephiran (or rather, Lehran) raised his Rewarp staff and teleported himself in front of the giant doors. Everyone twisted around, scrambled backwards, and took defensive stances. “You’re running out of time,” he declared, sounding calm again. “At this rate, I wouldn’t count on being able to face the Goddess. I would hate to see you all denied after coming all this way. Well, now you know who brought you here and why… I suppose that just leaves our fight to the death to take care of.” Waving one hand through the air in front of him, he whispered ancient words Soren couldn’t hear. Then, something incredible happened: spirits began coalescing.

He felt it before he saw it. The fire, wind, and thunder spirits that always inhabited the air, even in a place like this, were swiftly growing in strength and banding together. Around Lehran appeared strange beings of light. The amalgams of fire spirits resembled a transparent red flame. Each one was the height of a man and hovering a foot off the floor. The wind spirits resembled green twisters of the same size, and the thunder spirits were shifting clouds of yellow sparks. Soren knew what these were, although he’d assumed they were nothing but folk creatures from ancient legend. These were Spirit Tails: raw elemental spirits manifesting in physical form. Lehran continued to conjure the Tails until there were a hundred ghostly spirits in the room and the mercenaries were completely surrounded.

Then Lehran moved as if shrugging off a heavy cloak that wasn’t there. White light shimmered down his back, and when it cleared, two large, dark gray wings stretched from his shoulders. Whatever power had concealed them this entire time confounded Soren’s mind. He was an old heron, with old magic, and yet he’d also just used a staff and was now drawing a light tome. These were items of beorc magic, and Soren wondered how he could have mastered them.

“Alright, it looks like we’ve got to take care of this before we can meet Ashera!” Ike called out, “But no one is going to stop us now! Fight! Fight just a little longer!” Upon finishing his declaration, he ran out and struck his blade into a Fire Tail.

The fire spirit, however, manifested a sword-like protrusion of its own and mirrored his movements exactly. Ike struck again and again, but the Fire Tail was fast. As they fought, it grew more humanoid in shape, but it was still faceless and its flaming limbs didn’t move the way human joints moved.

“You heard the man!” Tibarn called, transforming and lifting himself off the ground. He flew, talons first, into a nearby Thunder Tail, but the spirit took on the nebulous shape of an eagle to strike back.

Skrimir transformed next and barreled into a Wind Tail, which grew solid and elongated into a lion-like body, headbutting him back.

Ranulf, Kurthnaga, and Ena also transformed, and the spirits they encountered attempted to mirror their shapes and counter with whatever means the laguz struck them. (Although, it did seem the Spirit Tails were incapable of matching the dragons’ size, and so they only formed part of a dragon at a time, zipping through the air and changing shape almost as fast as they eye could see). When the beorc fighters ran forward to face whatever Tail was closest to them, the spirits repelled them with whatever weapon and style they were attacked.

Soren opened his tome and began chanting a Rexcalibur spell. Although it would be impossible to kill these spirits, it should be possible to disrupt their physical form and cause them to disperse. The spirits had no vital organs or weak points, so the only way to dissolve them would be sheer force. With this thought in mind, Soren determined to give everything he had to every spell he incanted. Care and half-measures were useless now.

He unleashed the spell on a Wind Tail, but it survived and reacted with its own Rexcalibur-style attack. Knowing this would be coming, Soren fell flat on his stomach to avoid it. He covered his head with his arms, and only a few shreds of wind, like falling glass, cut him.

Hopping to his feet again, he determined to cast a layer of wind armor this time, but if it was going to counter a Rexcalibur-level attack, then it would have to be Rexcalibur itself. Considering the spell’s freezing temperature and explosive power, Soren wasn’t fond of the idea of summoning it on himself. But he didn’t have a better solution. He whispered the spell, and his skin prickled into goosebumps. He was cold, and he could see his own breath in front of his face. But as the spell settled, he felt a little safer.

It was just in time too, because the Wind Tail seemed to discover it was capable of attacking on its own. It struck Soren with another explosion, and Soren focused on counteracting each blade of wind with one of his own. When the Tail gave up, Soren unleashed the spells he’d prepared. But still the Tail didn’t dissolve, striking again.

They dueled like this for some time, but then, finally, the spirit dissipated. Panting hard and with a splitting headache, Soren took a moment to look around. Most of the others were fighting one or two spirits at a time, desperately dodging whatever the Tails threw back at them. Forcing his breaths to slow, Soren realized he had to work harder. There were too many Spirit Tails to engage in lengthy sparring matches one at time.

With this in mind, he turned his attention to the nearest Thunder Tail. Strictly speaking, wind magic should have an advantage over thunder magic. He hoped this remained true for manifestations of raw spiritual energy and conjured his next Rexcalibur spell with it at the center.

The Thunder Tail reacted with gyrating rings of lightning—its approximation of Rexcalibur, which was much harder to avoid than the Wind Tail’s replica. Soren only survived thanks to his wind guard, but even then, some of the lightning came through. His forearms were cut as if with a chain of razors, where he’d raised them to cover his face, and his mouth tasted like metal. His heart beat fast from the shock, and he was fairly sure his ears were bleeding.

The battle had become oddly muted, but he could still hear (mostly) and he could still see and breathe. His heart was still beating, so he decided to try again. He cast another Rexcalibur spell, willing it to be as strong as possible so the Tail couldn’t counterattack again. To his satisfaction, the spirit dispersed.

Feeling he was getting used to what to expect, Soren turned to find another Thunder Tail; he would take out as many as he could. When the spirits inevitably countered, Soren grew accustomed to rolling away and using his wind guard to block as much of the electricity as possible, even if that meant breaking it and having to chant a new one while running for his life.

The fight was an excellent distraction from all Soren’s fears. He had to focus his entire mind and all of his energy on every spell and dodge. There was no time to worry about mothers or fathers, dragons or crazy kings. He didn’t have to think about the end of the world, or what would come if the word didn’t end after all.

 

Eventually, enough of the Spirit Tails had been eliminated to create a clear route to Lehran, and Ike ran forward. Kurthnaga jogged behind him on his large reptilian feet, and Sanaki ran in the wake of his skittering tail. Soren tried to push his way in that direction, in case Ike needed his help.

“Mortals cannot stand against gods,” Lehran declared forlornly, “Don’t you see the futility of what you’re doing?” With that, he whispered a long incantation in the ancient language, which he finished just when Ike reached him.

A wave of golden light swirled around the man, and Soren had to block his eyes to avoid being blinded. A moment later, the force of the attack knocked him to the ground.

When he got up, blinking the spots out of his vision, it was all he could do to fend off the Spirit Tails bearing down on him. Fortunately, Lehran’s attack hadn’t had a large range. Soren had just gotten the edge of it, and those behind him, who’d been undamaged by the light, were charging into to defend those who been knocked down.

Once Soren could stand without fear of being electrocuted, incinerated, or lacerated with blades of wind, he turned his attention to Ike to ascertain that he was safe after the strange attack. To his relief, Ike didn’t seem gravely injured and was currently occupied with the Spirit Tails who’d come to Lehran’s defense. Meanwhile, Kurthnaga had once again cleared a path to the ancient heron and was taking advantage of it.

“How can you do this?” Kurthnaga growled before shooting a beam of blue fire that Lehran blocked with an orb of white light. Four floated around him, and Soren wondered if they were a product of the light tome in his hand. It wasn’t a spell he was familiar with. “How could a man of Serenes, of all people, wish extinction upon anyone else?”

“The laguz and beorc have doomed each other with their mutual hatred,” Lehran called back, and there was a distinct break in his calm demeanor. “You have brought extinction on yourselves!” With that, he began chanting another spell, and four more light orbs appeared around Kurthnaga, where they circled until flying in at the same time and exploding soundlessly. Despite his efforts to shield himself with his wings, Kurthnaga bellowed in pain and collapsed.

He reverted his form, apparently unconscious, and Sanaki walked into the space that was left. “Sephiran…” she said in a desolate voice, “Everything you’ve ever told me, every time you gave your hand to me, every time you smiled… They were all lies?” She had her fire tome in hand, but her grip was loose. Her arms just hung by her side.

Soren didn’t think she had the nerve to attack him, so he returned his attention to the nearest Spirit Tails, determined to fight his way in her direction. Someone needed to stop Lehran, even if she couldn’t.

When the heron still didn’t respond, Sanaki called out in frustration: “You’re the most appalling fraud I’ve ever known!” But she didn’t utter a spell.

“No, Lady Sanaki…” Lehran’s voice was tender, and Soren couldn’t tell if this was a ruse. “I’ve actually tried to lie to you very little. What I have done is hold things back. I’ve also twisted the truth from time to time… But I have only told you one blatant falsehood. That one lie has weighed heavily on me… It makes me hate myself.”

Soren was struck by those words and the genuine pain behind them. He risked removing his gaze from his current opponent, another Thunder Tail. Lehran, it seemed, was crying, and Sanaki was standing in front of him. “Sephiran…” She reached out, but he caught her hand and lowered it.

Just then, the Thunder Tail struck Soren in the back, and he knew in an instant that it was a bad hit. He fell to the ground, unable to move, hardly able to breathe. The wire-like blades had cut into him, and electricity had flooded through his body. He remained on the floor, shaking uncontrollably, and found that his wind guard was gone. The Thunder Tail had lashed straight through it, destroying the spell—and perhaps killing him, but he was too numb to truly register that possibility.

Mist appeared, dragging him to safety and telling him to hold on. Boyd stepped up to confront the Thunder Tail in his place, and past him, Soren could see Sanaki throw down her tome. “No!” she shouted defiantly. “Sephiran, no! I won’t kill you!”

Ike, however, seemed to be of a different opinion. He’d fought his way around the old heron, and Soren now saw his face pop up behind the gray wings. Ike raised his sword and struck, only to be blocked and blown backward by the orbs of light. Turning his back on Sanaki, Lehran fell into battle with Ike instead.

Soren didn’t see anymore, because Mist crouched in front of him. “Talk to me, Soren!” she demanded, “Did you fry that brain of yours? Say something!”

He jerked his head in an effort to focus. “I’m…alive,” he managed to say.

“I see that,” she replied, obviously relieved, “Let’s try to keep you that way. Can you move your fingers? Toes?” Soren obediently moved the required appendages. He had a feeling his feet were badly burned. “Good.” Mist raised her staff in both hands.

While she healed him, Soren watched the others fight. He couldn’t see Ike because Mist was in the way, but judging by the bursts of light coming from that direction, Lehran was embattled with someone. He could still feel Ike’s presence too; he was still alive.

Then the lights ceased abruptly, and all of the Spirit Tails dissolved at once. Mist looked around in surprise. Soren pushed himself up even though the sole of his right foot still felt raw and nerve points twinged all over his body. He limped to where Ike, Sanaki, and the others were gathered around Lehran.

When he arrived, the ancient heron was talking to Yune, and there was blood on the corner of his mouth. Stepping closer, he then saw that Lehran’s abdomen had been slashed deep from the side and he was bleeding out. Soren recognized Ike’s handiwork. Ike himself was currently sitting slightly to the side, where Rhys was healing the burns from Lehran’s light magic. Kurthnaga was still lying on the ground, boasting similar wounds, but the rise and fall of his chest revealed he was alive.

“Death is all you’ve wanted since this started,” Yune was saying, lowering herself to her knees by Lehran’s side. “Everything else has been little more than a terrible side effect. I’m sorry that this was your only goal, but I am happy to help you achieve it… Lehran, I see now what you were going through. It must have been hard. I wish I could have helped you.”

“Please,” he gasped, “Don’t mourn…for me. I’m not worth it.”

“I’m so sorry.” Yune shook her head. “I wanted to help you! I really did!”

“Forget about me. This path was my decision…” He twitched his neck toward Sanaki now. “Please forgive me…” Although she was clenching his hand and sobbing over him, he didn’t seem able to feel it, let alone move. “I… I lied to you.”

“Sephiran… Don’t worry,” she replied in a tear-choked voice, “We will have all the time we spent together… Nobody can take that away. Nobody.”

“Thank you…” Lehran wheezed, while staring unseeing at the abyss above. “I’ll be leaving you now. Zel…gius…is…waiting…”

Sanaki fell into even greater sobs when his last breath rattled into emptiness. “Sephiran! No… NOO!”

Soren watched her grieve and wondered—if Lehran had ever seen Sanaki as a daughter or loved her at all—how could he have wanted to die so badly that he was willing to take the rest of Tellius with him? He seemed to have felt attachment toward Zelgius as well. Had neither of them been enough to keep on living? Then again, after such long lives, perhaps people like Dheginsea and Lehran just didn’t realize what was important anymore. Perhaps they’d lost so much that nothing could fill that hole—not even the entire world.

Mist seized Soren’s arm, gently yet firmly, and drew him away. “Let me finish,” she hissed, “We’re not done yet, and you want to live to fight Ashera, don’t you?”

At her prodding, Soren collapsed into a sitting position. He moved his gaze from Sanaki to Ike, who was still being healed by Rhys nearby. Their eyes met, and Ike gave a small, reassuring nod. “Yes, I do,” Soren finally answered.

After closing Lehran’s eyes, folding his wings, and crossing his arms over his chest, Sanaki joined the others in a cluster of healing and rest. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. Elincia attempted to console her, but she was simultaneously trying to heal Tibarn’s legs (which had become quite mangled by a Wind Tail when they’d been talons moments ago). Reyson sat on the other side, holding Tibarn’s hand and singing softly.

Soren couldn’t tell if it was galdr or just a song, but it did make him wonder why Lehran hadn’t used galdr in this battle. Apparently he hadn’t been able to sing the galdr of release either, even though he’d been the one to seal Yune in the first place. Once again, Soren marveled at Lehran’s use of beorc magic, and both his and Dheginsea’s use of magic unknown to either race. As his head spun, he contemplated the possibility that there was much about magic no one knew. Perhaps the boundaries were softer than anyone assumed—between magics and between the beorc and laguz who wielded them. Perhaps powers could be learned, and other forgotten. If they weren’t passed on, perhaps they could be lost. And yet new magic, like the Rewarp staves, could be invented. Hammerne staves and curse scrolls were rare, but they still turned up when least expected. Maybe latent electricity was buzzing through Soren’s brain, making him fanciful, but these musings made him feel something akin to hope. He didn’t quite understand why.

While he rested, his comrades were using the last of the vulneraries and drinking the last of their water. Strips of clothing were ripped and used to bind wounds that weren’t worth the exhausted healers’ attention. Meanwhile, Elincia, Rhys, and Mist were busy taking care of everyone’s more serious injuries.

The lacerations to his back had been healed and the damage from the electrocution undone, but Soren still felt some numbness that Mist said would take time to heal. The problem was that no one had any time. They had to face Ashera, and they wouldn’t be facing her at their best thanks to Lehran.

“We can rest here a few moments,” Yune decided, having not yet relinquished Micaiah’s body. “But Ashera is nearly ready to make her final judgement. We can’t wait long.”

“We just need a minute to catch our breath,” Ike replied.

“While you do…” she continued, and her voice was sad. “I’d like to tell you what I’ve learned from Lehran’s memories.” She turned her gaze to Sanaki. “You deserve to know why he did what he did.”

“Please,” Sanaki replied, and her voice sounded tired. “There’s so much I don’t understand…”

Yune sat cross-legged and closed her eyes. “Lehran loved Altina, and she him. After defeating me, they decided to live together against the wishes of the heron tribe. However, when Altina became pregnant, they decided their relationship had to end—for the child’s sake if not their own. Altina took a husband and raised Lehran’s daughter as an ordinary beorc. Lehran went into exile in Goldoa, unable and unwilling to live among his own people, who had disowned him for his crime. Generations passed, and the line of Altina became the line of apostles, starting with Altina’s granddaughter Yoram. Later, the line of apostles became the Altina Dynasty of empresses under Apostle Meshua.”

Sanaki shook her head in bewilderment. “Then Sephiran was-”

Yune finally opened her eyes, “Yes, he was your ancestor, Sanaki.”

“But I am not the true apostle…” she mumbled in confusion.

Yune nodded and raised her chin to address everyone. “There is something you all need to know, something that all of Tellius should know… Laguz and beorc can love each other, and when they do, their offspring are neither laguz nor beorc. These children bear a mark—” unclipping and rolling back Micaiah’s sleeve, she revealed the Brand on the back of her hand and raised it for all to see. “They live lives longer than a beorc but shorter than their laguz parent, and they can develop rare skills. Micaiah’s ability to heal miraculously, see visions of the future, sing galdr, and hear my voice are all such abilities, and she has proudly bid me tell you such. Although these children are often demonized, she is not ashamed!”

Soren shivered and suddenly wished he could disappear. He glanced around surreptitiously to be sure no one was looking his way and found that everyone was staring at Yune, entranced by her words.

She continued in a strong voice: “Every first-born daughter in alternating generations of Altina’s direct bloodline has been born with this blood and been named apostle,” she explained, but then her voice grew suddenly sad. “…Unfortunately, Lehran did not learn of this until he ended his exile and met Apostle Misaha.”

“Grandmother…” Sanaki breathed.

“Misaha was exceedingly clever, and she discovered the source of her and her forebearers’ power. When she met Lehran, she discovered his identity and shared all she’d learned.” A tear escaped Yune’s eye, and she shook her head. “Lehran, who had been so lonely and so hopeless for such a long time, suddenly had a many-greats-granddaughter who welcomed him. He finally saw a path to uniting laguz and beorc. He believed these children were the key.” Yune sniffed and wiped another tear.

Soren shook his head despite himself. He hated this story. He hated Lehran’s false hope. He hated being thought of as a key. After being mistreated for so long, why should the Branded have to step up and solve the world’s problems? Why should he have to proudly declare his identity like Micaiah and somehow become a shining beacon for the rest of the world? It didn’t seem fair. Then again, hiding out in the desert in shame like the rest of the Branded didn’t seem right either.

“Misaha planned to expose the truth about the apostles and her own blood,” Yune continued, “She wanted to declare the rights of all Branded throughout Begnion and beseech the leaders of the other nations to acknowledge them as well.” She sniffed again, wiping her other eye. “But…then she was murdered and the heron tribe wiped out. Lehran rushed to Serenes, but the damage had been done. He lost all hope and wanted, once again, to die. He had already attempted to kill himself many times before, but the same binding magic that extended his life refused to let him take it… In the Serenes Forest, he found my medallion lying forgotten on an altar…” She closed her eyes again. “He determined to end all things if that meant the end of his pain…and of himself.”

No one spoke when her story ended, but Sanaki had finally stopped crying. The healing was done, and Mist and Rhys just sat with their staves across their laps. Some people were still staring at Yune, but most were just staring at the floor, digesting what they’d been told. No one looked particularly disgusted or angered by her story. Still no one looked at Soren.

Eventually it was Reyson who surprised everyone by speaking up: “I wish he had come back to Serenes,” he said softly. “None of us knew that Lehran was still alive, but we were raised to think of him as a hero… My people could be strict, but I’m sure they would have forgiven his relationship with Altina. He didn’t have to be so alone… None of this had to happen.”

Tibarn sighed bitterly. “Right, because your father is always so forgiving of us?” he asked pointedly. “I know you don’t want to dishonor your people’s memory, but ‘strict’ is putting it mildly.” He kicked up one knee and, leaning against it, stared at Reyson. “If Serenes back then was anything like it was when we were growing up, I have no doubt Lehran was raised to hate himself for loving anyone except an appropriately vetted heron girl.”

Reyson shook his head. “Times were changing…”

“Nothing was changing!” argued Tibarn. “It’s stupid tradition and closemindedness that led to the situation we’re in now. I’m not saying Lehran isn’t to blame—the guy did some awful things. But it’s not his fault alone.”

“Are you saying my people deserved to be slaughtered just because they were ‘closeminded’?” Reyson hissed, getting to his feet.

“No, of course not!” Tibarn stood too and raised both his palms. “And I don’t think Lehran thought that either—seeing as their deaths sent him off the deep end.” He lowered his hands and passed his gaze over everyone watching their spat. “Look, all I’m saying is: if we don’t learn anything from what caused this situation then nothing’s going to get better.” He pointed a finger at Skrimir, saying, “Gallia.” He next pointed at Elincia, saying, “Crimea.” Then he pointed at Sanaki, Micaiah, and Kurthnaga: “Begnion. Daein. Goldoa. I need you all to give your word, right now, that you will live through this and make your nations better.” He jerked a thumb at himself, “I’ll do it for the bird tribes.”

“Very well,” Sanaki was the first to agree. “I will do what my grandmother sought to do. I will reveal the truth. What else would you have me vow?”

Tibarn grinned to the side and nodded. “People are people,” he declared, “Love is love. Family is who you choose and who chooses you back. Got it?”

Skrimir, Sanaki, Elincia, and Kurthnaga all raised their hands solemnly and gave overlapping vows of agreement. Then Yune ran forward, hugged Tibarn, and squealed: “You meatlings say the nicest things!” When she released him, her face was split in a giddy grin. “Micaiah says Daein’s in too!” With that, she skipped back toward the door. “Shall we?”

Ike stood up, and everyone else followed his lead. “Get ready!” he ordered, and the Greil Mercenaries began checking their weapons, tightening their armor, retying bandages, and stretching their sore limbs.

Soren was already as prepared as he was going to be, so he just watched the others. That was when he saw Reyson standing on tiptoe to kiss Tibarn on the mouth. The sight sent a shock through him that felt nearly as strong as the Spirit Tail’s attack. Although he’d long suspected their relationship and Soren supposed they probably did this quite often when he wasn’t looking—it was still a shock to see. When they parted, they were both smiling, and Reyson seemed to have forgiven Tibarn’s snub against the heron tribe. They were looking at each other as if completely alone, as if none of the other royals or mercenaries were standing around them, and as if they certainly weren’t about to go fight a goddess.

Or perhaps, they looked exactly like they were going to fight a goddess.

Pulling his gaze away, Soren turned his back to them, and to his surprise, Ike was standing right there. He blushed, feeling he’d been caught doing something taboo just by watching them. Then again, he supposed that feeling was the problem Tibarn had just demanded his peers help solve.

“Soren,” Ike said, apparently oblivious to his discomfort. “How do you…feel about all of this?”

Soren stared up at him and found he was just happy to have those kind, caring, beautiful eyes gazing back at him. “It feels…too good to be true,” he admitted. “But maybe it can be…true, I mean.”

Ike smiled and blinked slowly, saying: “I want to talk to you, when all of this is over.”

“Okay. I mean, yes… Er, me too,” he struggled to reply, but it was the truth. If they survived today—if the world was saved, and even if it wasn’t—Soren would tell Ike the truth about how he felt. Because when he was looking into Ike’s eyes like he was now, he didn’t feel a shred of shame anymore.