Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Unknown Faces ❯ Of Misery and Mystery ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. It only wishes I did.

 

 

Chapter One: Of Mystery and Misery

 

Down a spiral staircase that cut deep into the cave stepped an attractive woman with golden eyes, a pale complexion, and black, wavy hair. Despite her becoming features, her presence was cold and dead. She walked with such purpose that no one dared to cross her path. This woman never blinked.

 

Further and further, she traveled downwards, the darkness intensifying until she was completely hidden by it. Only her golden, glowing eyes were visible in the cold and grim blackness.

 

At least she reached the very bottom: a vast cavern lit by the eerie glow of blue, stormy balls of light, produced by masters of the elder magic - shamans. Here and there, the occasional golden orb shone but Mater preferred the dark blue pearls of radiance.

 

Before the woman stood almost a hundred beings like herself - pale, fairly attractive people with golden eyes and that same dead and haunted look.

 

There were called morphs and each one had been created by Master - Nergal. He himself was not present but all the morphs stood stock still, like some sort of army that had come back from the very depths of hell.

 

The woman, or Limstella as Nergal had named her, got into line with the rest and pulled her hood over her head to hide her face. Not one of the morphs gave even the slightest inclination that they had noticed her presence. Bringing her hands together, Limstella bowed her head and prayed her unholy prayer, bidding Nergal to appear. That was the cue. The rest of the morphs soon followed suit; none gave any sign on Life. Like statures they stood.

 

Then the coldness seemed to deepen and widen until the temperature was impossible for any live being to bear. But the morphs felt noting.

 

Nergal had arrived. In a flash of brilliant violet light he materialized before his morphs, his creations.

 

“Beautiful,” he whispered evilly as he surveyed the multitude. “Simply beautiful.”

 

“Limstella,” he called. “Come forth.”

 

The morph complied, her gaze always focused forwards. “Master,” she said simply.

 

“Do you have what I need?”

 

In response, Limstella silently pulled out a small glass jar; inside swirled something sparkling, almost as if it was pure magic and goodness in liquid form.

 

“Excellent.” Nergal levitated it towards himself and grasped it with both hands. “Such beautiful essence. Perfect for my task.” He waved the morph away. She obeyed and stepped back in line.

 

Then he conjured up five shimmering balls of incandescence that floated above the crowd of morphs.

 

“Look up, my creations, my children, and come forth if the orbs call to you,” whispered Nergal, his excitement mounting to almost uncontrollable levels. Slowly, five distinct morphs stepped forward from the crowd and formed a pentagon around their master. They were not your typical morphs; some had a very noticeable sparkle in their eyes, others bore a seemingly permanent half-smile on their faces. One sported ocean blue eyes that were even more startling in the darn light.

 

These morphs happened to contain souls - black, distant souls - but souls nonetheless. Nergal wasn't sure how they happened to have been created that way but he was curious to test the effects. If he was correct, his plan would be unstoppable.

 

The master of dark arts unscrewed the jar and placed it reverently on the ground before him. Next, he pulled out an ancient tome with extreme deliberation and unrolled it with the utmost care. These archaic words spoke of magic so old and remarkable that even Nergal marveled at their power. He raised his hands in triumph, using angles to catch enough light to read the words perfectly and chanted the incantation in a commanding and consistent tone.

 

The essence flew out of the jar in a thin and shimmering stream, widening and it rose through the air, spreading out into a sparkling disc that cast wavering, beautiful lights around the cavern that were wasted on the unfeeling morphs. Here, Nergal's chanting increased in volume and intensity. The disc separated in five separate spinning discs that turned into spinning spheres. Each sphere descended slowly and seemed to be absorbed by the morphs that radiated silvery light for a second before returning to their normal state.

 

The spell was complete. Nergal felt slightly drained, as though a great deal of his power had flown out of his body in the process. He addressed these special morphs, a hint of tenderness in his voice, as though they were indeed something incredible special and dear to him.

 

“Go, my special creations. Go out and accomplish what I need you to. Now,” he added softly.

 

One by one, the morphs were emblazoned with incredible incandescence before they vanished into the chilly, musty cavern air. As soon as the last of them disappeared, Nergal sighed contentedly.

 

“All of you, go off and do my bidding, my faithful servants.”

 

As one fantastical being, the morphs shimmered for a moment and then vanished, leaving behind only Nergal and the orbs of blue and golden light. The mystical and mysterious magician folded his hands together and smiled. His plan was in effect. Stroking his chin thoughtfully, Nergal could only wonder if Eliwood and his troops were ready for it.

 

-------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------

 

Thunk! A sword was driven deep into the bloody ground, marking the place of the good man's death. The Crimson Knight, or Kent as his comrades called him, had finally fallen in battle. It seemed impossible that this day would come; he was a true knight, brave and skilled in combat, his lance and sword never yielding. Until this day, this bitter and fateful day.

 

The members of Eliwood's troop all bowed their heads in silence, taking a moment to remember Kent, their leader in times of struggle, their confidante when no one was around, their friend always. Sain had been brought to the ground, tears flowing freely from his eyes as he thought of all the good times they'd had, all the situations Kent had gotten him out of, all the battles they'd fought together.

 

Forgetting to be dashing, forgetting all about charm, the green-garbed knight pulled at his hair and wondered how life could be so unfair. Kent didn't deserve this and Sain would gladly trade places so that someone so honorable could once again walk the earth.

 

Awkwardly, the rest of the soldiers slipped away, leaving the man to mourn his loss in private. They all felt great pangs of sadness and guilt but none felt it like this…

 

Except for one other person.

 

Dropping her sword on the soft, blood-soaked earth, Lyn walked forward unsteadily, approaching the grave of the man she had loved. None save Sain had known of the pair and that was only due to sheer chance and miscalculations. In secrecy they had met, briefly discussing plans for the next day and exchanging words of affection.

 

And it was all over. She buckled and dropped to her knees, burying her head in her hands as she wept with reckless abandon. She had lived life all alone, in a world of grey, a world that never saw any light. After her parents had been killed by bandits, that had been all the young woman ever saw. Until the day she had set out on her mission with Todge, the tactician which had led to meeting Kent.

 

And then she had fallen in love with him, finally shattering the black shield of doubt that had encased her heart and prevented her from knowing such feelings. Her heart was raw and vulnerable and now life was bashing it against the wall. She didn't think she could handle it.

 

Seth noticed the mourning girl and scooted over, pulling her in under a comforting arm. She made no objection and the two of them, with hearts heavy like lead, sat there in complete silence, wondering how this had come to pass.

 

As they sat there, the world changed in their view. A bright, sunny day turned cloudy and gloomy. The bright greens and wonderful pallet of the surrounding flora turned various shades of gray. Life seemed to have been ruined.

 

Drastic as it seemed, that was how the two felt, as though everything they had ever cared for had been stolen from them. We are all inclined to feel this way, to forget the good and focus solely on the bad. We are only human. We mourn, we grieve.

 

We hurt.

 

Too absorbed in their mourning, the two failed to notice the set of ocean blue eyes staring at them through the cover of a nearby shrub.