"What happened?!" Seteth exclaimed. "The professor-?"

"She's breathing," Edelgard said quickly. "We did it. We killed them all. Solon. Kronya. What's happening to the professor? Why is she-?"

Seteth inhaled sharply as he seemed to finally internalize the professor's change in appearance. Her hair. That shade of green. It was the same color. Rhea's secret. Again. "You've done well. I'll take it from here. We must bring her to Lady Rhea."

Seteth held his arms out to take the professor's unconscious body. For a moment neither of them moved, Edelgard stood with her professor in her arms, the others standing behind watching. Then, as if the pause had never happened, Edelgard gently handed the body to the Church's second in command and bowed.

"Please keep us updated on the professor's status," Edelgard said courteously. "If there's anything we can do, please do not hesitate to call on us."

"Of course." Seteth easily hefted the professor in his arms and nodded. "The professor will be returned to you when she is recovered. For now, attend to yourselves. Food and rest is in order. I will call on you shortly, Lady Edelgard, for a more detailed report."

With that, the severe man turned and made straight for the stairs.

Edelgard watched him leave for several short moments before turning in the opposite direction to face her house. Hubert, who was standing next to her, did the same.

"Did you see the professor cut the air with her sword, like, from another dimension? Guys, she literally cut reality!" Caspar burst out for the umpteenth time. "How am I the only one who actually sees how crazy that is?! Our professor is literally some kind of god!"

"God? But is not god a word used to be male?" Petra asked, confused. "I thought the word to speak was goddess?"

"God, goddess." Caspar said. "Same thing."

He stopped short when he noticed that no one else was saying anything. Most of them seemed too tired to even comment.

"Are you quite done?" Hubert asked, the distaste in his voice as souring as ever.

Caspar clamped his lips tightly together, holding back the retort he would normally have let loose in other occasions.

"Thank you Caspar." The head of the Black Eagle house said with a smile.

"I'm doing it for you, not for that greasy vampire," Caspar remarked.

"Again, thank you," Edelgard noted before addressing the rest of her house. "I want an after-battle report from each of you on my desk in half an hour so that I can compile a summary for Seteth. Get it done quickly before you eat or wash."

The group assented in their various ways and stalked off, some to their rooms, some up the stairs in the direction of the library. Edelgard watched them leave, watched the denizens of the church go about their business as if nothing had happened, like a bunch of kids hadn't just risked their lives and drenched their hands in blood for a conflict whose sides they didn't even completely understand. The blood still caked on the armor and clothes of the young Eagles seemed to not deter them in the least. It was a miracle none of them were hurt. A miracle that their professor's command abilities and education had kept every single one of them alive on the battlefield. Again.

Last year, eleven percent of the student population had graduated from the monastery in caskets. To weigh the risk of death against the almost-guaranteed status that was afforded to graduates of Garreg Mach's academy was not easy. It was the cost many were willing to pay. In a system of perpetual conflict, skilled killers were always in demand and premature death was the norm. Premature death and torture.

"I will be taking my leave," Hubert said with a bow, interrupting her from her thoughts. "You will have my report shortly."

"Yes," Edelgard said distractedly. "Thank you, Hubert."

She woke to the sound of soft singing. A song whose words were ethereal and timeless. The melody and lyrics were familiar. So familiar, but she couldn't quite place where she'd heard them before. It was rare for her to feel so at peace. It was like a split in her soul had healed, a split that had tormented her for so long that she didn't even know it was there until it was gone. Not a single dream had disrupted her sleep this time. No wars. No death. No girl with green hair sleeping atop a cold throne. Only peace and a song that made her warm and sad.

She thought of all the creatures of the world, past and present. Plowing through the dark, their lives coloring everything around them before burning away. A body inside a boat. A great hero sent off on his final journey down a solemn stream of rippling smooth water. All the thousands, millions of lives coming and going, each with a story. Each illuminating the world with its torch, its life. All of them were beautiful.

The tears sprung freely from behind her closed lids as the thought came and went. Still the song continued. The last words flowed seamlessly into the first, carrying the whole tune through to its beginning. Without realizing, Byleth began to hum, a duet to the melody sung slightly higher than the original.

"In time's flow
See the glow
Of flames ever burning bright
On a swift
River's drift
Broken memories alight"

Rhea's song came to a stop. "You are awake," the Archbishop said, her voice caressing her ears, her heart. A hand gently smoothed her head and hair. Byleth smiled, exhaling audibly through her nose to acknowledge that she was aware. She remembered now. This was Sothis's song. Sothis, the goddess. The beginning. Who'd written this very song. Who'd sung it in a time long gone.

The night of the ball when they had followed Lady Rhea to a lone balcony had been the night that the little goddess had declared her memories to have returned. She remembered everything, but had told Byleth nothing about her or about Rhea. Then they had merged into one after their encounter with Solon, yet Byleth was still Byleth. Sothis's memories remained hidden from her. She still knew nothing. Who was the Archbishop and what was her connection to Sothis?

All these thoughts and questions passed through her mind in the span of a single second, and a sudden inspiration came to her. "Lady Rhea, how do you know that song?"

"That song?" Rhea asked.

"My song," Byleth said. "I wrote it, though I don't remember when."

"What do you mean you wrote it?"

"I wrote that song," Byleth stated. "Long ago, when people called me Sothis."

"Professor, if this is a joke…"

"Do I look like one to joke?" Byleth demanded, making a perfect impression of the Sothis she knew. She flicked her eyes open and glared directly into the Archbishop's green irises. "No. I am Byleth Eisner. But I am also Sothis. Though I can't seem to remember much. It's all so very fuzzy. Something happened a thousand years ago, in a place I used to call home. Who are you, Lady Rhea? I've met you as Byleth Eisner but… there's something to you that's familiar to the other part of me. To Sothis."

"I- I am-!" The Archbishop's joy and astonishment was a sight to behold as she stuttered in her rush to explain. Unfortunately, she managed to collect herself before she could spill all her secrets. "Do you really not remember?"

"You feel... familiar," Byleth declared in the Sothis-like manner that she was used to. "Like a word I can almost remember but cannot speak. Since you seem to know my history, you will tell me everything. I wish to remember."

The Archbishop hesitated, secrets on the tip of her tongue - reluctant to be spilled after having been kept so tight for so long. It was all Byleth could do to keep herself from prodding the mysterious matriarch any more than she needed to. They taunted her, the secrets of the monastery, of the church of Seiros, of Rhea herself - the reason her father had left the knights of Seiros, the reason that the greatest warrior she'd ever known was afraid of this gentle, green-haired woman. And her mother. What happened to her mother?

"I am sorry," Rhea said with her lids half closed, as if she were ashamed. "I cannot help you. Please continue to play the part of Professor Eisner for now."

"What?"

"I must-" Rhea hesitated. "I must think on it. A thousand years it took to bring everything to this point and… the peace of the land depends on it. I must think and not act impulsively. I am truly sorry, Professor."

"I see." Byleth sat up crawled to the edge of the massive bed and put her feet to the floor.

"You may stay for as long as you wish." Rhea offered in what almost sounded like a plea.

Byleth shook her head and decided it would be good not to push too hard at this juncture. "Goodbye, Lady Rhea."

As she approached the door to leave, a voice cried out suddenly from behind her. "Mother!"

Byleth stopped, turned, and saw. Rhea was staring at her, appraising her, waiting for a reaction.

"Mother?" Byleth asked with genuine confusion.

"It is nothing." Rhea looked away. "Come to my chamber later tonight after the students have turned in. I… never mind. Come to my chamber. I will be waiting."

The Archbishop was unwilling to speak any more. Byleth observed a second longer: the great Archbishop sitting on her giant canopied mattress looking disheveled and conflicted. It made her feel strangely guilty. For now, she decided to not think too hard on it. It sufficed to know that the wheels were finally in motion. As she made her way down the stairs, it occurred to her that she didn't know what day it was. How much time had passed since her battle with Solon? Who was teaching her class in her absence? A sudden desire to check on her students overtook the impassioned professor, and her steps took on a renewed vigor.