"Caspar, stop!"

"Step aside, Dorothea!"

"The professor-"

"She won't bring back all the people we've lost, all the villages destroyed. All the children starved and all the lives ruined. She can't change what Edelgard's done!"

"Wait, just-"

"..."

"Caspar what have you done?!"

"Dorothea? Huh? What- I didn't mean… Hubert was going to-! I was just-!"

"I did no such thing, insect. You acted of your own volition."

"HUUBERT!"

Carnage.

Heads hanging at odd angles, severed limbs and broken bodies, all sitting atop spreading pools of blood. Judging by the size of the pools, only ten minutes had passed at most.

"What happened?" she asks as calmly as she can.

Edelgard attempts to explain, but she is so mortified the words refuse to come. She kneels silently over her aide's body and is at a loss for words.

"I can explain, professor," says Petra. She is the only other person still alive in the classroom.

"Please do," Byleth prompts.

"We have- had. We had an argument. Caspar was wanting for revenge. I can guess for Marianne but also for others. I think… Hubert was not wanting to believe in you, and Caspar was not either. We began to be fighting after… I-if only you had been coming back to us sooner. Maybe this would not happened. Maybe we could still have life with no war. I hoped..."

Petra looks up at the bodies and her voice stops. There are tears pouring from her eyes, and she begins to cry violently.

"I failed you," Edelgard chips in, her voice flat. "Will you still fight with me, my teacher? My Goddess?"

"Goddess," Byleth replies calmly. "I am no goddess. That was a lie."

"...What. What?!" Edelgard's eyes become threatening. Her hand falls to her weapon.

"I'm the one who failed you. Will you still fight with me, my student?"

"You lied to me?!"

Byleth surveys the bodies. Ferdinand. Dorothea. Linhardt. Hubert. Caspar. Bernadetta is nowhere to be found.

"We must move forward."

"You lied to me," Edelgard says, her voice full of betrayed accusation. To no surprise, Byleth is completely unfazed by Edelgard's hostility. "You don't even care do you? You just want to use me. To manipulate me," she cries. "What am I to you?"

"You lied to me too," Byleth accuses back softly, dodging the last question with the same breath.

The two stare at each other for a moment, each expecting the other to either respond or continue the line of dialogue.

"I had to!" Edelgard shouts.

"Did you?"

Edelgard's hand trembles. It is the same hand Byleth had reached for only hours before. "What am I to you?" she repeats. Byleth stalls. There is an answer that Edelgard is desperately looking for, an answer that Byleth knows she cannot give in good conscience. Like the inevitable rise and fall of an executioner's blade, she delivers the same response that she has always given.

"You are my student," Byleth declares. "As long as you call me teacher."

Edelgard is stunned, but it takes her only a moment to regain her composure. "Then I will no longer call you teacher! Byleth, I-"

Before Edelgard can finish her sentence, the world shatters. Shards of reality break with an ear-splitting crack.

Byleth stares blankly at the frozen mien of her emotionally distraught student. There is a strangely pleading quality to it that she can't quite place. In any case, the situation is lost, and there is nothing else to do but to try again, to turn it all back.

How far can she go? An hour? Six years?

You cannot fix everything, nor should you seek to do so.

Trying is all I have left. If I don't have even that, then I might as well-

The world comes back together, piece by piece, and reality crystallizes.

Byleth suddenly feels very tired as the same scene begins to play itself out once more.

"Stop! Who goes there?!" Shouts Trystan, lead lancer of the eighty-fourth Imperial.

The moon is non-existent, and it is so dark, Byleth is surprised that Trystan had even noticed her. He must have been watching the door, must have already known that she was there. For a moment, Byleth feels a strong sense of empathy toward the Edelgard she'd abandoned in that doomed future. In a world of liars and hypocrites, how does one even dare trust another?

Yet, how can there be life without trust? Without faith?

"Weapons down!" Trystan presses, interrupting Byleth from her thoughts. Byleth steps up to the pretenders.

"Lancer Trystan. Fix your formation. I will be making a note of the eighty-fourth to your commanders. We are in a time of war, and I'm sure you know who I am. Do not play games with me."

Trystan whirls around in shock and sees his unit's hasty re-arrangement from its previous disarray. He doesn't become angry like a bad leader often does. Instead, he turns back to face Byleth whose arms are crossed sternly. "As commander of the Emperor's personal guard, I take full responsibility for this failure."

"Good," Byleth replies. She offers him a smile. "I look forward to working with you."

"Ah," Trystan bows, his voice becoming jubilant. "The pleasure will be ours!"

"Your leadership is commendable, Trystan," Byleth comments agreeably. "I can see why Edelgard has you in her vicinity. Keep up the good work."

The ageless soldier stands to attention.

"Yes, ma'am!"