A silver-garbed swordsman grunts loudly and dashes forward. He clashes with a tall, dark man who counters back with a strong dark magic, meeting every attack that the sword makes. Without thinking another second, I charge a spell in my hand and prepare to cast it upon this enemy. I cannot recall a name for either of these men before me, as my mind has drawn a blank.

"Up there!" The swordsman calls to me, gesturing towards the ceiling.

I look upwards sharply and throw my spell right away, although it only dissolves as it hits the brick behind where the dark mage had once been. He has apparently teleported away in the brief time it took for me to throw the magic.

"Whatever you want…"

A voice calls in my head. No one holds this voice, and no one else seems to hear it. It is talking to me, but I have no answer. I look farther to my right where the swordsman has fallen to the ground because of an attack. He attempts to stand by propping himself up on his sword. Knowing that there is an immediate danger for him, as this proves to not be terribly swift of a plan, I turn to my left to see the evil sorcerer charge his dark magic. I feel a similar spell building in my palm involuntarily.

"Die!" He shouts as he throws the spell at the fallen swordsman.

I respond by tossing my magic towards his, splitting it into dust and ruining the grisly outcome. Satisfied with this accomplishment, I turn with a triumphant smile. The sorcerer only stares back at me with a seemingly angry expression. I then follow a tug at my hand, away from the enemy.

"We have to pull back for a moment," the swordsman explains to me when I look at him curiously.

We move approximately fifty meters away—far enough for my companion to rest after the last strike against him. Unsure of what to do in the meantime, I let my gaze move around the room. The large room showed that this was no ordinary house, rather, more of a temple of sorts. Roughly twenty meters from where I stood was a tall, purple wall. The intricate pattern and nearly transparent aesthetic clearly indicated that it was made of magic. What was on the other side? Was someone waiting for me? Why was it there at all?

"This is it—our final battle."

I turn to the blue-haired swordsman beside me. As he speaks, he has a kind expression on his face. Something about this gaze pulls at my chest, although I cannot place as to why.

"We finish this, and we can go home."

Where is home? What is home? Why can I not recall these things? My mind lays empty, as if it has never known anything at all. "Whatever you want…" What is this voice? It seemingly comes from the sorcerer across the large room, but his mouth does not move in synchrony with the sounds.

"Now, let's kill this dastard and be done with it."

Without a moment's hesitation, I nod. Somehow, I know that I share the same goal as this man, whoever he may be. I feel a strong, but queer connection to him.

The both of us cautiously make our way back towards the dark mage waiting for us. As soon as we come close enough, our foe strikes out towards my apparent companion, to which the swordsman skillfully dodges. I retort to our enemy with strike of magic from the lightning tome in my left hand. The blow hits him in the chest, although not as powerfully as I would have preferred.

The dark man looks to me with a displeased expression on his face, "why do you insist on these games, child? You only deny the inevitable. Let go of the things that attach you to this world. He will give you whatever you want…" With his last three words, the tone of his voice matches exactly to the ringing call inside my head.

What do I want? So many nameless, blank images flash through my mind. They have identities—people, things, places. My mind does not hold the names for these things, but it feels as though it should.

The swordsman opposite me grunts once again and dashes to land a hard strike to the enemy's shoulder. The sorcerer falls back, offended. This only seems to make him angrier and his magic strengthens significantly. Every strike seems to echo the same call throughout my head. Every move he makes reminds me of those blank, hollow images that appear to hold answers to the questions that I have. I try to pull the pictures into my vision, only to find that they seem inaccessible to me.

I am not aware of the fight between the three of us until I see our enemy falling slowly to his knees; defeated.

The blue-haired swordsman looks back at me. And he smiles. His expression makes my chest tighten and numbs the calling in my mind. It makes me feel something right. Was this what I wanted?

I smile back, feeling a sense of happiness from this occurrence in my mind.

He opens his mouth to say something, but he is interrupted by the fallen sorcerer behind him.

"This isn't over! Not to the likes of you!" His voice echoes throughout the room. He abruptly charges a large, glowing orb of magic and casts it towards the swordsman standing in front of me.

Without thinking, I immediately pushed my companion out of the way, taking the hit square to my entire body. My vision turns white and time seems to slow. A burning sensation crawls into my heart and lungs—breathing is excruciating. A piercing pain surges through my head.

"Submit to your blood," calls the voice, this time in a provocative tone. "I will grant you what you want…"

I cannot see through the darkness that blocks my vision. I can move, but there is nothing to move towards. The voice is the only thing that I can comprehend. Somehow, I feel as though it is pulling me into something, almost as if I was falling.

"Your blood makes you strong… your bonds make you weak…"

"Leave me alone!" I scream hoarsely, testing my voice. The call continues to repeat those words, over and over. I wrench hard inside my head, attempting to get myself back to reality, and received a cloudy perception of the real world again. I had fallen to the ground, but no pain came to my arm or any part of my body.

Twenty meters away, the sorcerer has also collapsed to the ground, just beginning to fade into a purple mist. He is truly defeated this time, I know for certain, but I have no recollection of how this came about. Could I have done this?

The swordsman dashes over to kneel next to me. "Are you alright?"

My breathing is heavy, as I fear for why his voice echoes so much in my ears. Something isn't right. "Your blood makes you strong… you can do whatever you want…" The voice continues to call, pulling me into its grasp. I look to my companion with pained eyes, trying to alert him of this matter.

"We got him," he explains to me, then we both look to the dissolving violet smoke that previously was the sorcerer. "And it's all thanks to you…"

"Whatever you want…"

My heartbeat pounds in my ears, drowning out the words that my companion was saying. My vision blurs heavily, and red, electric pulses jot through the fog. I feel my hands shake and tremble, attempting to control a power that has suddenly come over me. I can barely feel that the silver-armored swordsman has put his hand to my back and is assisting me in standing up slowly. I try to put my legs underneath myself, but they shake so much that standing proves to be strenuous.

"Something wrong?"

I turn to look him directly in the eyes with a scared expression. I do not know what I am becoming, but I feel an absurd amount of power flowing through my entire body. Something is speaking to me—telling me who my real enemy is. It is invading my mind, my heart, and my whole being. I fight this voice, but it is too powerful. Its words are too convincing. "Whatever you want…"

"Hey, hang on—"

Before he can continue, I feel my control slip for a moment. A wet slicing sound pierces my head.

He steps away from me, a glowing wound in his chest. Blood pours from the wound, trickling down his silver chest plate and dripping to a puddle on the ground. His hand comes away from it covered in blood. His arm trembles as he looks to me with a pained expression, but also a look of dejection.

I hesitantly look down to my hand. My fingertips crackle with electricity—the very same that radiates from my companion's chest. My whole hand is dripping with the same red liquid as his. I gaze up to him with an oddly apologetic look, although I feel a flurry of different emotions; most of which I can not place directly. In some ways I feel horrified, for others, I am scared. What terrifies me the most, however, is that a part of me feels accomplished—happy, even.

"This…. Isn't because of you…" he manages to say, even through the pain that it written all over his face.

I begin to back away, fearful of what else I could do, given the opportunity. My hands shake, and my breaths are uneasy and forced. I cannot see anything other than the horrifying scene before me.

"Please… don't stay here…" the wounded swordsman continues, beginning to lose his footing. "You have to save yourself from this… Please… you have to g-go…" He then falls to the ground, life leaving him instantly.

Breathing even more heavily than I was before, I suddenly begin to see the consequences of this action. Blank imageries flash through my mind, as they had before. This time, however, they seem different—they give the impression of sorrow. The previous ones showed either no emotion at all, or something positive. Nothing is joyful about these images now. They seem to be nothing except pain and misery. They reflect the images of people who I love. I know this, somehow. I love the people that are in these portrayals. I do not know their names, I do not know what they are, I do not know anything about them. I know, however, that I love them. Whether it is real love, brotherly love, or motherly love is irresolute to me.

A thunderous, extended laugh rings throughout the room. Or is it only in my head? I feel myself being pulled away into something, a void of sorts, and feeling as though it is something that I can never escape from.

Darkness comes to my eyes. The laughter stops. A sense of calm comes over me, washing out the tenseness from the dreadful scene like a drink of water to a parched tongue. My mind feels numb as the scene fades from memory quickly. I feel a light breeze on my face and hear… voices… calm voices. Voices of people who aren't in danger. Voices that I know will change my life, although I do not know how yet.

And so begins the story. Yes, this is technically an adaption of FE:A, and I know that that has been done many times already, but I'll try to keep it interesting for you (it will likely end up going into post-game as well). Thank you for reading this chapter! I hope to get the next one out before long, so stick with me, if you will. (Also, reviews are definitely welcomed, but I'm not here to tell people what to do)