AN: This is a sequel to my previous Fire Emblem fanfiction called Broken Blade. I highly recommend you read it first since, well, this is a sequel and things will probably get a bit confusing with canon divergence otherwise.

Chapter One: Dawn in Darkness

Great Tree Moon 20, Imperial Year 1180

The war.

In darkness and rain and mud the two sides unleashed screams of rancor and crashed against one another in an enormous melee. Knights and soldiers in solid armor, trimmed red like the Empire. The other half-clothed in bits of chain and leather and scale but with an unmatched ferocity. Ferocity that could not overcome the protection of their foe. Blows glanced aside on the plate armor while lances and swords struck the exposures of the unarmored. Pegasus knights swooped down from above and the horde's raw power faltered.

Then he came.

The old man. Hair long and wild, beard long and grey. Eyes like ash, filled with nothing but contempt for all that he saw. He leapt into battle, his trunk-like arms and legs propelling him through the sky and in one mighty strike he carved apart a circle of carnage in the armored lines. His sword, serrated on both edges, with wings for a guard and a crest stone within, glowing red with unfathomable power.

The soldiers with armor rallied around a warcry and charged at him. Their goal to land a blow on a man untouched by war. His exposed skin lacked even a single scar. With ease his blade cut through their charge and a bloody mess followed. The Crest of Flames contorting on his cloak as it billowed in the wind.

Across the battlefield red light arose as others with Heroes' Relics unleashed their divine power. A mortal savant slashed through a dozen foes with one swing of Thunderbrand. A falcon knight blocked a hundred arrows with her Aegis Shield. A great knight in thick armor used a lance with spikes jutting from it to tear pegasus knights from the sky. A holy knight charged throughout battle with a curved lance. The 10 Elites of old and the havoc they unleashed could not be stopped.

As the armored knights were driven back they rallied around the woman. Dying in droves while she did not spare a glance.

"Lady Seiros…"

The namesake of the Holy Church of Seiros. First among saints, daughter of the goddess and vanquisher of fallen heroes..

Her sword flashed. Silver-white and thin, a waved edge, the Crest of Seiros emblazoned on the fuller near the guard. The Sword of Seiros.

With three strikes she killed three foes. Not once her light green eyes paying attention to the dead and dying. Her hardened stare directed solely at one. At Nemesis.

Her hair, long light green and braided back; bangs kept from her eyes by a mighty golden circlet large enough to cover her whole forehead, that bore wings like the Immaculate One, the great protector of the church. Lilies of white hung from her hair, where her ears would be had they been visible. Her armor was thin but protected what it needed. Her cloak as white as clean sheets, even in the rain and muck. Her shield: a disc silver, reflective like a mirror, with her Crest adorning its center.

She ran at Nemesis. Blood and mud splashing her, besmirching a saint. Fury and hate fueling her combat. Thin arms that should not match even one of Nemesis's instead fought the man evenly. The Sword of Seiros matched the Sword of the Creator blow for blow. Her speed surpassing his and soon the man was on the defensive. He retreated - the first retreat of his life and a whip of the sword shattered the ground between the duel. Time earned, space earned.

Again he lashed out, his sword now a whip. His sword, the Sword of the Creator struck so close that a cut of blood now graced Saint Seiros's stomach. He lashed twice more and twice more she dodged and so he struck with a thrust. The saint was ready, and her blade entangled her foe's and she hurled them aside.

The sudden action deprived both of their weapons and Saint Seiros rushed in. With incredible speed she delivered a palm to his chin. Unbalanced the King of Liberation was prey to a flurry of blows that sent him toppling. The saint dropped a knee, pummeled him more as he mustered no resistance. A third his size and she'd crushed him effortlessly.

"Tell me, Nemesis." Saint Seiros drew a small dagger. "Do you recall the Red Canyon?" Zanado. The King of Liberation's eyes went wide with fear at the name of a sacred location to the Church of Seiros. "You'll die your that!" Her dagger came down. "Die! Die! Die!" Each use of "Die" punctuated with a stab to a dead man. And a hundred more until he was nothing but blood soaking the ground. "You took... everything that I loved." Words said to something not even a corpse anymore.

The rain broke, the clouds parted and the light of dawn illuminated her and the Imperial army. Cheers of victory rang loud and high. The saint's bloodstained hands gripped the fallen Sword of the Creator and cradled it to her cheek. "He's gone now, Mother…" Bloodstained, drenched in mud, sweat and rain. No concern for dignity as she embraced the bloodied blade.

A tower of stone wrapped in vines.

A fleet of ships across the sea.

Buildings so tall and wide a dozen demonic beasts could enter side-by-side.

Stone and metal of darkness and lines of blue that glowed.

The girl on her throne. Stone stairs beneath his feet he walked upwards. The stone slabs of the platform and railing surrounding him when he stood on equal ground. She sat, sleeping as ever on that stone throne. The seat twice her size with a backing that extended into the darkness that surrounded them. She stirred in her eternal slumber.

A girl — a child half his height. Pointed ears. Hair enormous and green, longer than she was tall. Parts of hair pulled forward over her shoulders and braided with ribbons of pink and white. A headdress of gold atop her head, beads linking around. Metalwork like hearts adorning the ridge. Dark tassels hanging from them. Familiar shapes.

Her clothes were beyond sense. Stripes of dark cloth that covered half her body, tied together with ribbons of pink and white and cords of gold. Connected together to her stomach in a plate of gold. Another heart, and an emblem of the Crest of Flames etched into it.

She stirred.

She moved.

Her eyes opened.

Drowsy, she rubbed those clear green eyes and a yawn broke the silence. First upon first upon first. "Oh my." Her voice echoed in the empty chamber. "What could've brought you here?" Sweet, confused, curious.

She yawned again, her eyes still half-open. "I wonder how you got here…" A question he'd wondered all his life. "It is most rude to interrupt a moment of repose. Most rude indeed. Now come to me. I wish to have a look at you."

He stepped forward. By his own choice or not. The pale green light that had so long illuminated the girl and her throne now revealed himself. And he saw himself through eyes not his own. His dark teal hair, cut above eyes in front, long in back; ears covered. Blue eyes and a face that never moved. His long, white coat, a cut made above the elbow sleeves to let his arms through. Light plate at his shoulders, joints and forelimbs. The protective sash at his waist and the small dagger that hung off his belt. The thick pale grey linens warming him beneath his armor and the tough dark gray of his gloves and boots.

"Hmmm… I've not seen the likes of you before. What are you, anyway?"

Kid doesn't make a sound. It's like he's a ghost.

His face, it doesn't ever move. Even when he's killing. It's like he's a heartless demon.

"A human."

"I see." The girl relaxed in her seat. Bracing her chin with a wrist. "Then you must have a name of sorts. Go on."

Is that the Ashen Demon…?

"Byleth."

"Huh. I shall not ever grow accustomed to the sound of human names." She was smiling now. "You must possess a day of birth as well. Beneath which moon and on what day were you born into this world?"

"Guardian Moon One."

"Well, will wonders never cease! It seems we share our day of birth. How strange!" Why was the girl surprised about that? They were born together. "Hmmm. It all feels so familiar." You slept inside someone's head before? "I think it may be time for another nap…"

"It is almost time… to begin…"

Begin what?

And he remembered.

Byleth woke in a small wooden room of Remire Village.

And for the first time in his life he remembered what he dreamt. The war. Saint Seiros. Seiros. And Nemesis, the King of Liberation. The Heroes' Relics. Familiar and assumed. The War of Heroes from a thousand years past.

Flashes of nothings in between. Yet unlike anything he'd ever seen.

The girl with no name. For the first time she spoke. Was that why he remembered? Why had she finally broken her silence?

He put on his gear. The clothes he wore to sleep were not what he wore in his dream. How had the eyes within perceived him as such?

He walked the hall to Jeralt's room. His father was already fully armed and ready for their return to Garreg Mach Monastery today. His pauldrons, his chainmail, in white. His lance of silver resting nearby that had been pointed at him often. Worry creased the three-scarred face of his father. The shaved sides of his head furrowing about ears while the peak of brown-blonde swayed with his concern down to the small braid running down his back. "Something the matter?" Jeralt asked. His jaw with beard clenched with beard, his brown eyes steeled.

"The girl… talked." The girl without a name after all the years. Her questions did not allow ones of his own.

Jeralt blinked at his words. "What did she say?" He was guarded, but anxious. Worried. More than that: Defensive.

No. "I... can't remember." He lied to Jeralt for the second time in his life. Averted looking at him. "And the war. There was a woman." Seiros. The patron saint of their church. "And a man." Nemesis. The King of Liberation. The great hero of the goddess who turned against her teachings and fell to evil. "And Heroes' Relics?" Thunderbrand, Aegis Shield. Either the Lance of Ruin, or Lúin, or Areadbhar. And the Sword of the Creator itself.

"You need to stop reading the books of Seiros before bed."

No. That was not it. There was not a shade of remembrance before. Had the girl awakening truly caused this? "I saw Thunderbrand." Charon. Cassandra. "And Aegis Shield." Fraldarius. Glenn. "And the lances." Gautier, Daphnel or Blaiddyd.

Jeralt frowned further. He knew more. But he wasn't answering. "What did they look like?"

The door was flung inside violently as Seth rushed in. "Jeralt, sir! We've got trouble out front!"

Jeralt scowled at the interruption. "Let's get going." All business.

They rushed out in the slight light of dawn. The Broken Blade readied at the village entrance. Remire militia ready with the weapons trained with years ago. With them were two boys and a girl. Each wore the uniform of the Officers Academy. Each heavily altered. What were students doing so far from Garreg Mach this early in the school year?

"Knights of Seiros, what luck!" said the boy in the middle. Shining blonde hair, styled just so that it curved away from his bright blue eyes. Enthusiasm and relief mixing on his face. Straight-laced, yet eager. Subtle movements of his fingers and hands indicated more than his words alone. A half-cape in royal blue draped over his left shoulder, kept tight by a sash across his torso in the same color. The usual gold trim of the Academy's uniforms replaced with a rarer silver, while black remained the base. Armor was over his uniform jacket, black in color; spaulders, gauntlets, greaves and boots in all. A lance at his side and sword attached not to a belt, but a sash. "We require your aid, good sirs."

"What's the matter?" Jeralt asked, scrutinizing them himself.

"Our camp nearby was attacked by bandits," said the boy on the left. A darker skin tone. A different texture. Not akin to Cassadra's sun-touched skin. More akin to Brigid, Duscur, or Almyrans. His hair was a dark brown of wild spikes and well-cared for. With a thin braid coming down over his right-side ear. On his left ear was a gold earring, a loop with five more rings hanging off it. A slight smile was still on his lips despite the circumstances. His jade eyes half closed but all at attention. He leaned back despite circumstances, hand on his hip, golden cape dangling off it. His jacket was opened to his chest, a golden undershirt peeking out through, and the jacket tail expanded so far as to be a long coat. His pants were baggier but his boots were nearly fully hidden against his gear. A quiver hung off his back and a bow struck out from behind, the cleartell calluses of an archer on his fingers. "We managed to give them the slip, but they're right on our tail."

"Where's your escort?" Alois or Reo had to be handling student arrival. Neither should be this careless.

"Dealing with the bulk of the group," said the girl on the right. Noticeably short, yet the slight dip in her head, back craned straight and hand at her hip spoke of confidence in bulk. Ax in hand and white gloves gripping it. Over her tight jacket she wore a white ascot; below the jacket was not the skirt common to ladies of the academy but instead the narrowest slit of a pair of shorts. Beneath those: bright red leggings covered her down to her heeled black boots. Her hair was white-silver, long past her cape, kept out of her face by two purple ribbons that tied above her ears. And those eyes. A clear icy violet.

He knew those eyes. How did he know those eyes?

"Why'd you run instead of standing your ground?" Jeralt freed Byleth from his confusion with that ask.

"Well," said the student from the Golden Deer, "with the darkness and confusion going on I thought it better to get my bearings away from all the fighting."

"And we followed when they broke off to pursue him," added the student from the Blue Lions.

"Do you have a head count on the bandits?" asked Jeralt.

"My best estimate was thirty following us," said the student from the Black Eagles "None of them equipped for indirect combat." This wasn't going to be a difficult fight.

Jeralt pondered the obvious for a moment, then faced him. "All right kid, take point. Leave some bandits up so the students can get a swing in." He looked back at the students. "You three follow in behind him. The Broken Blade and I will cover the flanks and rear so nothing gets the drop on you, or gets into the village." Byleth stepped past them on command.

"You're asking us to fight?" said the Golden Deer.

"You didn't come to the Officers Academy to avoid fights, did you? Think of it as your first unofficial mission." Like with the Dagda and Brigid War.

The student laughed. "So our first official mission will be heading back to Garreg Mach then?"

"This is no laughing matter, Claude," said the Blue Lion, naming the Golden Deer. "Captain Jeralt," one of the Broken Blade must have named him before they arrived, "is it wise to have your son take the vanguard alone?" It was wiser for Byleth to do it alone.

"He's more than capable. If things go badly I'll ride right in." That wouldn't be necessary.

Black Eagle turned her eyes on him. "You have a strange aura about you. I look forward to seeing you in action." Seeing with those eyes.

"I profess my most sincere thanks for your assistance," said Blue Lion.

"Yeah! You guys have really bailed us out of this mess," said Claude.

"Get going, kid."

Byleth drew his iron sword. Behind him the shuffle as the students and Broken Blade arranged themselves to command.

Past the bridge, past the river across even ground the bandits came. Dark clothes in the darkness, a few torches from the central watchtower bringing them into light. Their clothes were ill-kept, their skin filthy and looks mean. Axes for all of them, each chipped and dented. Poor quality foe with poor quality weapons. If they all held such a standard he could finish it on his own.

But orders were orders.

He took a breath. Took in all that he saw. Jerlat would handle the flanks, they had to focus on the front. Four advancing fast in front, in full view of the watch tower's torches. To the right, in the brush were two more. The ground was dirt, all the way around. Mostly even. Packed hard by constant foot traffic. Patches of overgrowth dominated the left path, sight beyond it was limited. To the right side he could still see through the watchtower's fence. That would be their path.

A voice boomed in the distance and shadows of more slid around the far side of the tower and fence. Reinforcements. The sooner he took care of their vanguard the better. From still to full he ran towards the first bandit. Eager and arrogant, the bandit grinned. He raised his axe but Byleth's sword was utterly faster and one stab to the man's arm dropped the weapon. A second cut across his chest forced him back while Byleth came about the side and finished with a third strike to his neck. The man fell to the ground, still glowering in arrogance despite death.

The three bandits nearby moved in to exact revenge. Byleth maneuvered them around the center brushes. With more quick slashes he struck their legs, wrists and sides. Slowing them for the students to handle. He moved afield, closer to the watchtower and evaluated the students' actions.

Claude's arrows were first. A shot to the side followed by another to the chest. Injured as his target was, it should have only required one. The Blue Lion followed in next, batting aside the swing of his foe and burying his lance into the man far enough that his hands touched the dead. In any other situation he would have lost that weapon, but he pried it free with no contention. The Black Eagle girl moved in last, overpowering her foe with his bleeding wrists and finishing him with a single chop at his neck. Adequate, but she moved off without confirming that he was dead.

Byleth continued his advance, drawing in two more. Their teamwork managed to get in a hit. Nothing serious, but a mistake he shouldn't have made. He cut one down ferociously and eliminated the next in one stab. His wound healing itself with the surge of power. Crest power from whichever he had.

Beyond the watchtower the remaining bandits were gathering. Jeralt was taking the Broken Blade around for a flanking maneuver so Byleth picked up the pace. Fifteen remained, including a bulk of a man. With wild eyes and grey hair and posturing that emboldened the others. The leader.

He could wait. Another group of six rushed him and Byleth removed two more fighters from his enemies and sent three more fleeing. One attempted an attack which Byleth fended off and wounded in response. He left it to the girl while pointing the runners out to the Blue Lion and Claude.

The bandit leader roared some challenge and made his attack. Compensating for his lack of agility with savagery and power. His blows here heavy enough to shake arms but Byleth could carefully redirect it and avoid anything fatal. The man's enthusiasm paled as his breath expired and Byleth turned to offense. His speed slipping past the guard and striking five times as the man was put on the back foot. His ax grip loosened and Byleth knocked it out of his grip, stabbed him in the chest, and kicked him into the seven bandits still grouped together.

Another attempted a quick blindside but Byleth caught the ax shaft and elbowed the man in the stomach. He released his ax and ran before Byleth could cut him down. Byleth dropped the ax and pursued him, the fleeing bandit regrouping with another. The inevitable before them shook their resolve and the one ax was simple to parry. Both met their end shortly after.

Blue Lion and Claude had their foes dead around. Jeralt was coming in for his charge against the last and the Black Eagle was standing… without her ax? Lodged in the stomach of another bandit who'd wandered in too closely.

The bandit boss kicked himself up despite his wounds. He grabbed an ax from his underling and rushed at the girl. Bylth's feet already in a run to stop it but the bandit was closer by half even if slower. The girl drew a dagger and held her ground.

He burned all he could and just barely covered the girl in time for the ax to hit him instead of her.

Only it didn't.

The ax that should have torn into his back had stopped. The world had stopped. The girl did not breath. Did not blink. Her hair did not move in the wind.

The void engulfed him.

"Honestly!" the girl on the throne yelled at him. From the shadows she and her throne emerged. The green light ensuring she was ever visible. "What are you accomplishing with that little stunt?!"

"She was in danger," he replied.

"And that is a reason to throw your own life away? It's like you're trying to get me killed, you fool!" A sharp and unfamiliar reprimand. She sighed, the depth of force shivering down her whole body. "Well, it's fine. After all, if you don't know the value of your own life, you're not going to protect it very well, are you?"

"I've survived the same before."

"Yet you persist in ensuring it happens again? Unacceptable. It falls to me to guide you from now on." She leapt from her throne. Bare feet on stone as she walked towards him. "You may call me Sothis… but I'm also known as 'The Beginning.'"

Sothis? His eyes went wide at the name of the goddess. Was this a coincidence as much as their day of birth?

"Sothis… yes, that is my name." Her hands rested on her face in thought. "Hmmm, it appears that name is familiar to you."

He could not stop. "The goddess…"

"A goddess?" Her tiny body fraught with surprise. "Why would a goddess reside within you? How could a goddess forget her own name?"

"How could one reside in the head of another?"

She crossed her arms with a look of indignation. "Such a thing would easily be within a goddess's power." She brought a look of superiority to her face. "Why, I have even stalled the flow of time."

"So, are you the goddess?" The goddess who should reside in the Blue Sea Star?

A sharp crack broke through his skull. That short look of victory torn from her face. "No… I… am The Beginning. But who once called me that…?" She shook her head in frustration. "No, no… The flow of time will bring us to the destination… but that is not now.."

Garreg Mach would have the answers. "Then, what now?"

"When time begins anew that ax will tear into your flesh, and you will surely meet your end. All just to save one young girl."

The supposed-goddess before him looked even younger than she.

Which she noticed. "Did you think of me as just some child? A mere child who forgot her name? Phooey! That 'child' just saved your life!"

Manners. "Thank you."

She grinned at the answer. "See, is gratitude too much to ask? Now, whatever shall we do with such a dark fate awaiting you?"

If time moved forward, he would die. They would die. Staying still saved life but did not progress it. What about backwards? Like… "Turn back the hands of time." The words left his mouth without further thought.

"Of course! I must turn back the hands of time!" Had she heard him? Or come to the conclusion on her own?

This was not the first time she'd done this. "Yes, I do believe it can be done. I cannot rewind it too far, but you will know what is to come and prevent it. Protect yourself. Yes, you who carries flame within. Carry that flame to whatever path you seek..."

What?

The void of mind was replaced with the face of the Black Eagle girl. Surprised. Still frozen. Backwards did his motions carry until he stood over the body of a familiar fallen foe. He bucked on his heel and ran towards Black Eagle before the bandit boss even rose. But he did, stealing ax once more and taking the same path to the same destination of the girl who would not relent even against a foe outside her range.

Byleth made it three steps sooner and disarmed him in a single movement. His crest flared and he sent another kick into the bandit's ribs. Agony roared as he was hurled back into another minion. Byleth readied his sword for a third round should it come. Mistake fixed.

Just like Enbarr.

"Hey—over here!" Claude's voice reached out as he and Blue Lion ran up. The former too grim, the latter restrained, and the Black Eagle… happy? Smiling despite it all.

Jeralt and the Broken Blade came up after, the bandits fleeing in the distraction. "Hey… did you just…" Confused at what he'd seen.

"The Knights of Seiros are here!" Alois came running up with a shout and ten men of his own. "Errr, more Knights of Seiros are here. Get after the bandits!" His men ran off in pursuit. "Captain! Captain Jeralt ha! What luck!" He came bounding up with a large smile. Another year hadn't done much to change the man. His mustache was a bit thicker, and his hair was slicked back more but it was as deeply brown as ever. His blue eyes held good cheer even in this situation. A favored ax still in his hands, his plate armor still thick and the spikes on his left pauldron were now a shiny gold rather than grey. The Crest of Seiros on his long cape skirted with dirt.

"Hello, Alois," Jeralt greeted him. "At least you arrived before things got worse."

"Good to see the old gang again. Hey, Byleth, looking sharp as ever! Laundry detail's gonna yell at you again."

"It's not my fault they bleed so much." He cleaned off his sword before returning it to his sheath.

"Ha, your wit is as dry as ever."

"How'd you get distracted by a bunch of bandits anyhow?" Jeralt asked.

"Err… well…" Alois fidgeted at the question. "I was maybe a bit too relieved to meet back up with you that I didn't take my duties seriously."

Jeralt slammed a palm against his head. "Good grief. I'm gonna be lecturing you all the way back to Garreg Mach."

"I look forward to it!"

Jeralt, Alois and the Broken Blade walked off into the distance. Knights of Seiros from abroad and at home mingling. Byleth alone and the students talking among each other a few feet off.

The Knights of Seiros? They do see rather skilled.

He tripped at the girl's voice—Sothis's voice inside his head.

Did I surprise you, hmm? Well, there will be time to chat later, those children seem quite interested in you.

She could see too?

"I appreciate your help back there," said the Black Eagle. Her dagger was back in its sheath and she'd retrieved her lost ax. "I knew the Knights of Seiros would be skilled, but you're exceptional, even for them."

"I'm not a knight of Seiros," he corrected.

She wasn't expecting that. "Oh, my apologies for the presumption then. But your father is Jeralt Eisner, correct? The Blade Breaker? Renowned as the greatest knight to ever live?"

"Yes."

She tipped a gloved hand to her lip in thought but gave no further response.

"So," Claude interrupted, "I take it you're gonna be our escort back to Garreg Mach then? I'd love to bend your ear as we travel."

That would change soon enough.

"And I look forward to learning from such a swordsmen," said Blue Lion. "The way you held your ground against the bandits' leader was captivating. It showed me I have much to learn." He did indeed. The bloodstains ruining his lance ran near the entire shaft.

"We'll probably be heading out again," said Byleth.

"Oh, is that so?" His enthusiasm drained with each word.

"The Broken Blade usually only stays a few weeks before we head out again."

"The Broken Blade?" said Black Eagle. "You've made quite a name for yourself apart from the Knights of Seiros."

She had to be someone important to know that.

"Even in the Kingdom there are tales of the church's Broken Blade," said Blue Lion. "If you've any control of your mission assignments, I would ask you to consider the Kingdom. The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus is in dire need of individuals such as yourself." They were. But why was he being so forthright?

"You sure are hasty, Dimitri," said Claude. "Asking someone you just met to go rushing off to help you out. I, on the other hand, was planning and asking after a long fruitful talk and swearing eternal friendship before we reached Garreg Mach. But hey, the Alliance is always looking for new talent, and you're plenty talented in my eyes." He winked.

Byleth turned to face Black Eagle and her proposal. "Oh? Has the Empire interested you? Certainly a man of your caliber would do well." Not the glowing praise the others flattered him with.

"So, it's Edelgard that caught your eye, eh?"

"Have you never learned the value of holding your tongue, Claude?" Edelgard rebuked him.

"Oh, what is a leader without voicing their opinions? Or soon-to-be leader, anyway."

"And what is a leader that flees at the first sign of trouble?"

"That was a tactical retreat. That led us right into the vicinity of these fine fellows."

"Quite the keen strategy then," said Dimitri. "I thought you were acting as a decoy for all our sakes."

She shook her head. "He's obviously lying."

"You must learn to trust others, Edelgard. You will prove a lacking ruler if you can't rely on others."

"And you will prove a lacking ruler should you believe obvious lies."

Claude put his arms behind his head. "Oh joy, another debate between their royal highnesses. Tell me, how does being utterly predictable affect leadership?"

The implications weren't lost but they certainly childish for being royalty.

Edelgard waved a strand of hair away. "Arguing like this gets us nowhere." She refocused attention on Byleth. "Tell me, which country interests you the most?"

It seems the choice of country is quite significant to them.

Sothis's words did not shake him this time. But he had a question before him.

The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, where he once traveled as a child younger than them. His memories a mist and his body once wounded. All gone but bits and pieces. Yet Glenn, and Cassandra and Christophe all hailed from the Kingdom. He'd known them for years.

The Leicester Alliance he'd journeyed only two years ago through. That village they'd saved, that fortress they defended. The girl who taught him of flowers.

The Adrestian Empire he just returned from. Where he warred for a year and acted as a shield to a hundred thousand people.

His choice was clear.

"The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus."

"Ah, wonderful," said Dimitri. "Faerghus has always valued the same chivalry and honor that you displayed." If the other two were disappointed they didn't show it.

"All right," Jeralt returned and interrupted them. "You've had enough small talk. Let's get back to the monastery before people start getting worried."

"Well," said Claude, "there goes our nice friendly chat. Hope you stick by us during the trip." And they left without even learning his name.

"Something wrong?" Jeralt asked.

"No," said Byleth.

"Well, glad to see you didn't freeze up near the royal brats. We'll probably be at Garreg Mach for a while so you'll be running into them at the training grounds for a while."

Byleth nodded and Jeralt took it as a reason to walk off.

My, you're all in quite the hurry it seems. Sothis's voice returned. Each of them are rather unique, do you not think so?

Would this be his future from now on?

That Edelgard.

A refined young woman. Her every movement and posture was well thought out and guarded. Her eyes were always looking, searching—evaluating. Those eyes that irritated him with familiarity.

Or that Dimitri.

He had a sincerity and earnestness about him. But the blood that stained him so thoroughly indicated a deeper darkness.

And that Claude too.

That easy smile that drew attention, striking in its effectiveness. But his eyes did not smile with it.

I thought much the same.

She did? How much did she know, then?

Ah… I am so sleepy once again. I must have a nap.

Her voice left him alone. Alone with much to think of.

The War of Heroes and the face of Seiros.

The girl who shared her name with the goddess.

The flow of time that reversed like Enbarr.

And the eyes of Edelgard - so eerily familiar.

AN: Ahhhh it's finally here? How many of you realized Byleth would recognize Sothis's name? Because boy I think that's a big thing to learn so dang early!

Certain things might be eyebrow-raising in question, but trust me some of them are more complicated than they appear.

I added some additional parts to the Battle of Tailtean, because, well, it's fanfic, I can and it helps show off more of Byleth's church knowledge and past. Seiros getting, well, super violent at the end there... well, frankly considering her sheer fury the only reason she doesn't do it in-game is because of a rating hahaha...

You've also noticed that Byleth's perspective is gonna be way, way more filled with details. Whereas Jeralt was kind of a "one-and-done" guy with detailing, Byleth is gonna be constantly making sharp observations of people and situations.

And hopefully I can continue that when we get to other character POVs, including when Jeralt gets his own again.

Also over the course of writing this I realized Dimitri's name never actually comes up during the Prologue but Byleth knows it anyway. Weird.

But just to reiterate from something I said in Broken Blade, Chapter 2 of Ashen Wake here isn't coming for a while. With Cindered Shadows on the horizon I wanted to get this started to whet the appetite and prepare to blend in the Ashen Wolves.

I'm going to start back to writing sometime later this month and then aiming for a mid-to-late March for Chapter 2 and back to weekly updates beyond. Because trust me, having a good chunk of time between writing and posting was vital for Broken Blade and removing some... dumbness.

Also, going forth I want people's opinions on should I reply to Reviews with PMs or in chapters? Because really I should have been doing that for all of Broken Blade I was just too annoyed with fanfiction's options compared to AO3.