Warning: Lengthy chapter ahead!

Before we begin, I'd like to give a shout out to some very talented writers in the Fire Emblem community that I'm acquainted with: BrandedKing, ClearlyInvsible, GallianSquad7, JHAkrasia, LiquidJoker, Musing Soul, Robdelia, Sigmatic, SubwayBossEmmett, Vanto, and Velosaurus! Seriously, go check their stuff out; it's great!

Big thanks to BrandedKing in particular for beta reading this chapter! Couldn't have done it without you. :)

Also, very sorry about this chapter being as late as it is, but let's not put it off any longer! In the last chapter, Chrom and the gang infiltrated Gangrel's ball in an attempt to rescue Emmeryn. Things ended on a sour note. Let's see the aftermath, shall we?

When Gangrel and his followers returned to their guests, the ballroom was exactly as they'd left it.

A complete and utter mess.

The room still smelled of smoke. Many of the castle's servants tended to the disoriented nobility, treating their eyes with water and healing magic. Several others attempted to fan away the leftover smog using whatever they could. Aversa rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers, casting a wind spell that cleared the air in seconds. Thankfully it seemed that mild irritation was the absolute worst of the guests' complaints, but neither they nor Gangrel were in the mood to celebrate anymore.

"Everyone!" He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Please remain calm! My finest soldiers are already on the hunt for those repugnant Ylisseans! They will rue the day they ever set foot in this castle!"

One of his guards returned from the second floor with a grim look and a few fresh cuts on his face. Gangrel was quick to get his attention. "You there! Status report! Where are the rogues who committed identity theft and attempted to mass poison us?!"

"I don't know, Your Majesty. They killed three of our men upstairs when we tried to apprehend them. Sure didn't make it easy on the rest of us, though..."

"I don't give a damn about that!" He ignored the gasps and murmurs coming from his nearby guests. "What about the perpetrators? Any clues left behind?"

"All we found of the rogues were a pair of leather boots and... some sort of letter."

The guard brought forth a small piece of paper. Gangrel snatched it from him and read it under his breath. "'Thanks again for the party, Gangrene. See you real soon… Love, G and A.'"

There was a crude depiction of a smiling face drawn at the bottom of the paper, complete with a wink that exuded smugness.

"Gahh…!" Gangrel tore the scrap to shreds like a rabid cat. "Damn them! Damn them and their accomplices! I'll have their heads!"

"Er... W-we couldn't find the other two culprits either, milord. We think they used the smokescreen to escape the castle before the front gate was shut."

"Oh, my! What a brilliant deduction, soldier! I'll have to give you a raise for such an astute observation!"

The guard's eyes lit up. "Really, Your Majesty?"

"NO!" Gangrel screamed in his face. "Useless wretch… Get back to work and find those imbeciles!"

The guard bowed his head and walked away, sniffling. Another approached him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, leaving Gangrel to sneer at the scene. "Ugh, I'm surrounded by idiots! Complete and utter fools! Morons of the highest caliber!"

His piercing red eyes danced across the ballroom in a rage, desperately searching for someone else to screech at. Many of the nobles were on their feet again, talking and whispering among themselves in fear and indignation. A healer looked over Vasto and Henry as they caught up on old times with Campari. Aversa was doing her best to keep up with the rampant whining of the partygoers.

Gangrel finally settled on Mustafa as the general consoled his wife and little son. "Mustafa! You and Aversa failed me earlier by letting the Ylisseans get away! I order you to gather your troops and chase those dogs down at once!"

"Must we continue to fight after all these years?" Mustafa's wife, still in his arms, glared at their king with spiteful brown eyes. "Haven't we suffered enough?!"

"Sonya," Mustafa whispered, "you mustn't—"

"Heh! Your wife certainly has more bark than you, Mustafa. Now go! That dragon of theirs could be anywhere and we're losing time. Rally your men and check the Midmire first! They may be trying to cross the Feroxi border north of there!"

"But I…"

The Mad King snapped his fingers. Several of his soldiers stepped forward at once and surrounded the family of three, spears aimed at their necks. Mustafa held his family close, and Sonya tried to comfort their son as he cried. Many nobles and soldiers gawked at the scene including Campari and Vasto. Aversa narrowed her eyes at Gangrel from afar, and Tharja similarly seethed in silence from her corner of the room.

Gangrel tilted his head and smiled, but his voice was devoid of warmth. "Do I make myself clear?"

After a brief pause, Mustafa sighed and hung his head in shame. "Crystal."

"Good." He turned away from the family and faced the crowd, signalling for his men to stand down. "Let this be a lesson to all of you, soldier and noble alike. We cannot allow ourselves to fall prey to infighting at a time like this! Plegia's enemy is Ylisse! That's the way it is, and until I've avenged those we've lost, that's the way it will be! I will not tolerate insubordination or dissent in any way, shape or form! If I have to make an example out of anyone who thinks they have the stones to challenge my rule... So be it."

Gangrel took a deep breath before looking at his general once more. "... Rally all of your soldiers, Mustafa: infantry, cavalry, and anyone who can ride a wyvern. Track those creatures down and put an end to their insolence!"

Without another word, he turned on his heel and made his way towards some of his other guests. A few of Gangrel's guards scowled at Mustafa before leaving. He glared back briefly before turning his attention to his frightened son.

"Shh... Dry those eyes, lad." He patted the boy on the back. "They're gone now. I'll keep you both safe, I swear on my life."

"D-Dad…" His brown eyes still brimmed with tears. "Do you have to go…?"

"... Aye, lad." Mustafa nodded solemnly. "I do."

"When is Auntie Taka coming home?"

He feigned ignorance. Mustafa knew deep within his heart that if the Ylisseans had made it this far, Fort Scaraba was already lost. Taka would never surrender to them of her own volition.

"... I don't know, Joseph."

"The Midmire... I don't like this at all." Sonya sighed. "They say those who venture out into the bog never return..."

She placed her hands on either side of her husband's battle-hardened face. "Be safe, my love. Come home alive."

Mustafa brought his family together for a tight embrace. With a heavy heart, he kissed them both goodbye.

"... I will."

On the other side of the ballroom, Campari was engaged in a conversation with a bloodied Vasto. Henry stood beside them with his hands on his knees, grinning but still reeling from their previous escapade.

"I don't understand, Vasto. When Bruta showed up with this little whelp on her saddle, we thought for sure you were dead. How the hell did you manage to escape?"

"Ha! Those idiots spared me and dragged me all the way here." Vasto snorted boorishly. "Honestly, even I couldn't tell you why. They probably thought that I'd 'see the error of my ways' if I spent enough time around their merry band of vigilantes, but they're not innocent. They're not the good guys in this story. I saw the atrocities they committed at Fort Scaraba first-hand. The few soldiers that survived were taken prisoner and tortured for days on end... Just like me."

"By the gods!" Campari clenched his teeth in contempt. "Those savages... Then Taka must be…!"

Vasto nodded. "Dead. Cut down without remorse. That prince of theirs didn't even bat an eye as he chopped her head clean off. After that, they holed up in Fort Scaraba before moving towards the capital. Henry teleported me out of their little camp, but the other prisoners weren't so lucky. They gave their lives to save us..."

"Damn those Ylissean mongrels! I'll kill them all myself, I swear it!"

As the older general fumed and went off on a tangent about "the good old days," Vasto smirked to himself. He knew the truth of what really happened at the fort and during his escape, but Campari didn't need to know. If anything, stretching the truth a bit would only bolster both his morale and that of the other soldiers, and that could only be beneficial to their cause.

His cause.

Campari continued to rant, and while Vasto feigned interest, Henry's attention drifted to Tharja. As the other Plegians' voices mingled together and formed an incoherent cloud of noise, the dark-haired beauty took the opportunity to slink out of the ballroom. Henry watched her leave without a word, but the corners of his mouth drooped until his lips formed a straight line.

"Campari!" Gangrel shouted, snapping all three out of their thoughts as he walked over to them. "Lazy old mutt. Where were you when I called for assistance upstairs?! Mustafa and Aversa at least had the decency to show up before failing me!"

"Ah... my apologies, milord," he said, scratching his head. "I did the best I could, but I—"

"Save your excuses! I want you to assemble your troops and do a full city-wide search for those deplorable degenerates! Leave no stone unturned, no house unsearched, and take the silver-haired boy with you too!"

A malicious smirk crept across Gangrel's face. "His talents should come in handy should someone prove themselves... uncooperative. Now go!"

"Y-yes, of course," Campari said. "Come along, boy."

"Yessir! Nya ha ha..."

The two left the room with several of Gangrel's soldiers, and Vasto was about to follow them when the king's spindly gray hand reached his shoulder. "Not you, Vasto. I have a special task for you and you alone."

"Your Majesty?"

Gangrel leaned over and whispered in his ear. "I want you to keep an eye on Mustafa from a distance. That man's always been far too soft for his own good; make sure he follows his orders to the bitter end! Do that... and I'll reinstate you as Air Commander. Understood?"

With everything to gain and nothing to lose, Vasto nodded at once. Gangrel smiled in response and patted his shoulder. "Wonderful! Hop to it."

After listening to the complaints of the nobility (and tasking Aversa with taking care of them), Gangrel strutted out of the ballroom with a seemingly satisfied smile. As soon as he was alone, however, his shoulders slumped and his grin vanished. He couldn't help but think back to the fight with Chrom and his accomplices. Everything had been going well for him until that madwoman did what she did...

"Emmeryn..." He clenched his fist. "You fool..."

To the northwest of the Plegian capital stood the Midmire. The harsh desert sands receded and gave way to a bleak, marshy swamp with little in the way of vegetation. The skies above were gray year-round, rumbling incessantly in rage and despair. Hot, sticky air clung to anyone unfortunate enough to wander here, as did the local insects. Most off-putting of all were the massive bonelike protrusions that sprung from the earth like a macabre rib cage.

"Ugh... It's brutal out here," Stahl complained, swatting away a mosquito. Several of the Shepherds fanned themselves with whatever they could as they searched the skies for their missing friends. "I sure hope the others get back soon..."

"Anyone see Sumia or Cordelia yet?" Ricken asked. "It feels like it's been hours since they left..."

"Keep your shirt on, kid." Sully rolled her eyes as she fed her horse some oats. "It's been all of ten minutes."

Under her breath, she muttered, "Kellam, you dastard... You and the others had better be okay..."

The caravan stopped in the Midmire on Frederick's orders. While he and most of the other Shepherds kept an eye on the skies, Lissa paced back and forth and nibbled on her thumbnail. Despite Maribelle's words of encouragement, she couldn't stop her thoughts from racing. She was already worried enough about Chrom and Emmeryn, but then the incident with Vasto and the other Plegian prisoners happened. None of the Shepherds had been seriously injured, but the screaming and that awful, terrible scene wouldn't leave her mind no matter how she tried...

"Ah...!" Panne stood on her hind legs in taguel form, her head high in the air. The others looked at her as her nose twitched and a familiar draconic scent filled her nostrils. "There... That has to be Nowi."

There were a few neighs followed by a roar. A pair of white pegasi came into view as a shimmering yellow and green dragon emerged from the clouds between them. They neared the ground, and the other Shepherds spotted Robin and Lyn riding with Sumia and Cordelia respectively. They cheered, but their celebration came to an end when they saw Chrom cradling a bleeding Emmeryn on Nowi's back.

"It's gonna be okay, Emm," he whispered over and over again, "you're safe now. He can't hurt you anymore. You're gonna be okay…"

Her breath was heavy and labored, but she smiled at him as though nothing was wrong.

The Shepherds gave their fliers some space as they finally landed. Vaike and Sully helped Robin and Lyn off of the pegasi as Frederick gingerly took Emmeryn from Chrom's arms. Once Chrom himself was back on the ground, Nowi shifted back into her humanoid form and collapsed into a nearby Donnel's arms.

"Nowi!"

"I'll be okay..." She gave him a tired grin. "Just help Emmeryn...!"

As she shuffled off to the side, Lissa made her way through the crowd of stunned Shepherds. Her worst fears were realized when she spotted her battered, bloodied sister in Frederick's arms.

"Emm! Are you okay?! What did they do to you?!"

"Lissa...?" Emmeryn's cloudy gray eyes opened. "Is... Is that you? I'm so glad you're alright..."

Basilio and Flavia came forward with a brown quilt from the caravan. They stretched it out on the ground and stepped back, allowing Frederick to carefully lower Emmeryn onto it. Lissa and Maribelle approached her with their staves aglow, doing everything in their power to close the wound. Maribelle did her best to stay composed, but Lissa's hands wouldn't stop trembling.

"The damage is… severe," Maribelle lamented, her staff resting over Emmeryn's chest. "I've never encountered such internal scarring before… Your Grace, what did that monster do to you?"

"This was…" She coughed. A trickle of blood escaped the corner of her mouth. "Most of this was… my doing."

"What are you talking about?" Chrom knelt beside her and took her hand into his own. "Emm, what did—"

"Magic is powerful… but also very dangerous. It's why tomes and staves were invented… To channel it safely." She coughed again. "After years of repressing my abilities… and using so many at once without aid…"

"... Why, Emm? Why did you do that? We could've… I could've—"

"I made a conscious decision," Emmeryn rasped. "I… couldn't let you die, Chrom… or them…"

She looked over at the two that had fought at their side. Lyn stared back with moist eyes, but Robin looked as though his heart were about to break in two.

"You've all sacrificed so much for me..." She smiled as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "Words can't express my gratitude..."

Lissa's eyes welled up, a few tears of her own dropping on her sister's face. Even as strain began to overtake her body and mind, the end of her staff glowed with desperate light. "Emm, don't do this! Don't leave us… Please!"

Basilio glanced over at Flavia and tilted his head with a glum look. She nodded, and the two left the siblings to grieve without a single word. One by one, the Shepherds followed suit, their faces no less somber. Before long, Emmeryn laid with Chrom and Lissa kneeling on either side of her, Frederick and Maribelle standing nearby, and Robin and Lyn watching quietly from a distance.

"Chrom… Don't be like me," Emmeryn pleaded with glassy eyes. "Don't be like our father. Forge your own path. One with compassion and strength in equal amounts… Not just one or the other."

"Emm," he croaked out. "I... I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault... and it wasn't Plegia's either. The fault is Gangrel's and Gangrel's alone. I truly wish I could have helped him, but…"

"I know." Chrom's thumbs glided across her knuckles. "... I know."

"Maribelle..." She looked over at her and smiled. "Thank you for being Lissa's friend all these years. Thank you for being there for her when I couldn't be."

"Y-Your Grace..." Maribelle wiped a tear from her eye. "It has been an honor... and a pleasure."

"And Frederick..." Emmeryn coughed up a bit more blood, but her serene smile returned. "Th-thank you for keeping Chrom and Lissa safe after all this time... I know they're in good hands."

"I... I could do no less, Your Grace..."

"Robin... and Lyn." Her eyes settled on them both. "I'm sorry our time together was so short... I truly wish we met under better circumstances. May we meet again in a better life."

"Emmeryn…" Robin's voice broke.

Lyn's lip quivered. "Emmeryn... I..."

The dying Exalt turned her attention towards her siblings. She placed a tender hand on either of their faces. "Chrom… Lissa… I'm sorry. I'm going to see Mother and Father now. I'm glad I got to see you all one last time… I know you'll succeed where we failed."

There was so much more she wished to say, but she hadn't the strength to continue. Emmeryn's eyes fluttered shut, and she smiled for the last time.

"No... No, this can't be happening!" Lissa grabbed her sister's shoulders and attempted to shake her back to life. "Wake up, Emm! Wake up! Don't leave us... Please... Please just wake up..."

"Lissa..." Chrom placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked back at him and saw eyes just as misty as her own. "She's gone."

Any semblance of composure Lissa had vanished. She hurled herself into her brother's arms and wailed, burying her face in his neck. Chrom held her close and shut his eyes in a futile attempt to stop his own tears. Maribelle kept her sobs down to the best of her ability, and Frederick hung his head in in silent shame.

"Chrom…" Robin's voice was hoarse.

There was no response.

"Chrom," Lyn said, her heart heavy. "I don't know what to say…"

"We failed her," he choked out at last. "I failed her."

"Chrom, you couldn't have known—"

"I should have never left her side! Gangrel kidnapped her because I wasn't there to protect her in the first place! This is all my fault!"

"Ch-Chrom," Lissa sobbed. "Don't say that…! It w-wasn't your… Oh, Chrom!"

For a few minutes, the only sounds that could be heard were Lissa's cries and the rumbling of the clouds above them. Chrom and Lissa clung to each other, but Robin was frozen in place. Part of him wanted to comfort them both, but what could he do? Did he even deserve to speak at a moment like this? He, whose words would be little more than empty platitudes. He, whose rescue plan ultimately resulted in failure.

He, who let Emmeryn die.

"Robin," Lyn whispered. She grabbed his hand and rubbed it with her thumb, but he didn't even look at her. His gaze was locked on the grieving siblings before them. "... Robin?"

"Oh, gods."

His breath hitched in his throat as both tears and rain began to fall. Lyn understood at once and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tighter than ever before.

"... What happened, Frederick?" Chrom looked up at him. "Where did we go wrong? Everything was going well until Vasto showed up... He ruined everything!"

"The fault was my own, milord." Frederick grimaced. "I made a grave error and failed to account for a Plegian ambush. It was nightfall when a harsh cloud of smog rolled in. A dark mage appeared and freed Vasto before the two of them vanished, but the other prisoners..."

He took a deep breath. "The mage set them aflame."

"I... Gods," Chrom rasped. Lissa trembled and whimpered in his arms. "Why would they do that?"

"To facilitate their escape, I'd wager. I have no love in my heart for enemy soldiers, but those men hardly deserved such a cruel fate. To be needlessly sacrificed in such a torturous, barbaric display... It's nothing short of disgusting."

Chrom let go of Lissa and stood up from the quilt, clenching his fists. He could feel his vision growing red as his heart filled with an intense hatred he'd never felt before. "Vasto, that bastard... I'll kill him. I'll kill him with my bare hands!"

"I will accompany you every step of the way, milord, but first we must rally the others and find an escape route. This rainfall will only get worse, and who's to say Gangrel hasn't sent men after us already?"

"G-g-guys," Lissa said, hiccuping as Maribelle hugged her. "What about Emm? We can't just—"

"I know, Lissa." Chrom's voice softened. His eyes lingered on Emmeryn's unmoving form, taking in her serene expression. "... I know. I'd never leave her in this wasteland. Not in a million years. She... She deserves to be buried at home."

"Chrom!" The group heard Sully yell. "We got an enemy spy over here!"

Everyone turned to see her and Stahl pointing a lance at a cloaked figure between them. The stranger held their pale hands up in surrender as Vaike held a sword to their back.

"You still never answered our question, you know," Stahl said. "If you're one of Gangrel's assassins, better fess up now. These two aren't exactly known for their patience."

"I already told you," a snide female voice replied, "I'm not your enemy. I come in peace."

"You're about to leave in pieces," Sully snarled. "Now get talkin'!"

The others stared at the mysterious figure with varying expressions of surprise and apprehension. Frederick stood in front of them, ready to fight barehanded if necessary. "Remove your hood at once, stranger!"

The figure lifted their hands to the hood and slowly brought it down. The others' faces didn't change, but Robin's eyes grew larger when he realized he was staring at none other than the dark-haired girl he'd met at the ball.

"... Tharja?"

"So glad you remembered me..." She smiled at him and him alone. Her face soured when she turned her head towards Sully. "I assume my compliance demonstrates my good intentions?"

"Hardly," she growled in response. "Because of your shitty king, their sister is dead!"

Tharja's gaze wandered past Frederick and the others. When she saw the body lying on the quilt, she felt an unfamiliar pang in her heart. She struggled to find the words. "I... You have my condolences. Truly. Believe me when I say that I despise Gangrel with every fiber of my being, but we don't have time to discuss this here. More of his men will be here soon; I came here to warn you."

"Why?" Everyone flinched at the bitterness in Chrom's voice. He looked at her in disbelief and shook his head. "... Why would you do that?"

She refused to meet his eye. "... I have my reasons. What Gangrel did was abhorrent, but it's not enough for him. He won't stop until he's dragged everyone to the deepest depths of hell with him. Even now, his men are hot on your trail."

Chrom and Frederick exchanged skeptical glances, but the former calmed down a little. "... How much time do we have?"

A wretched reptilian roar rang out from above, forcing everyone's hands to their ears.

"None!" Tharja winced.

The Shepherds present huddled together around Chrom, Lissa and Emmeryn. Tharja stood at their side in a defensive stance, hands crackling with electricity as she glared at the wyvern rider above. He was a bald, burly man with a goatee and a scar across his eye; the same she'd met at the ball.

"Ylisseans!" He spotted the body in the center. "I… I am sorry. Truly, I am. Emmeryn was a kind and gentle soul, and she—"

"Don't!" Chrom yelled. His voice was laced with venom. "Don't you dare speak her name!"

"... Your anger is justified, Prince Chrom, but I don't want this any more than you do. I only desire for peace, just as she did. If you lay down your arms, I can convince Gangrel to—"

"To what?" Frederick sharply cut him off. "Execute us later rather than sooner?! That monster doesn't know the first thing about mercy! We'd be better off taking our chances with weapons in hand!"

"The Midmire is completely surrounded, Ylisseans. I… I do not wish for us to come to blows."

"Then why are you doing this?!" Lissa cried. "How can anyone work for such a horrible person?!"

Thunder crashed in the background, and the general sighed. "... I have to, lass."

"Enough of this!" Chrom barked. "If you insist on standing in our way, then you leave us no choice but to fight."

"... Aye. Just know that I never wanted it to be this way."

The Plegian general pointed his axe forward before flying off to the west. Several more wyverns took his place, circling the Shepherds, and the distant sound of galloping accompanied the rain and thunder.

"Destroy the wagons," a wyvern rider ordered. "Let none escape!"

"Everyone, regroup with the others and gear up for battle!" Frederick yelled. "I may have failed the Exalt in life, but I shall not allow them to desecrate her body any more than they already have! Keep your wits about you, and do not let the enemy attack the caravan! We'll be stranded here otherwise!"

Chrom, Lissa and most of the others ran south of their position as Frederick retrieved Emmeryn's body, but Robin didn't move an inch. He couldn't stop staring at the spot where Emmeryn had lain... had died.

"Robin!" Frederick barked at him.

There was no response.

"Robin, move!" Lyn screamed.

He was only broken out of his trance by the shriek of an impending wyvern. Time slowed to a standstill as the beast descended towards him with its wicked wings outstretched, framed by the flash of lightning in the distance. Robin closed his eyes and made his peace with whatever gods awaited him on the other side.

This is what I deserve.

The wyvern screeched again, and Robin's eyes flew open to see it ensnared in a barrage of lightning. He looked to his left and saw Tharja holding her hands in front of her as the lightning continued to fly from her fingertips, frying both the wyvern and its rider. The attack stopped after a few seconds, leaving them to plummet to the muddy ground below in a charred, smoking heap.

"Robin, is it?" Tharja questioned, raising an eyebrow. "... Stay close to me. We need to move."

"I... Y-yes." He nodded. "Thank you..."

The skies above the Midmire darkened and rumbled as Plegian forces began to emerge from the north and west. The Shepherds converged at the convoy in the southeast. While Frederick gently laid Emmeryn's body in one of the wagons, Chrom held Falchion with a new resolve. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he noticed that the Fire Emblem was still tucked away safely, but his relief turned to rage as soon as he spotted enemies in the west.

I'll kill them all... I swear it!

Lyn armed herself with both of the Kattis and the silver bow Robin had bought her. She glanced at the muddy hem of her dress and grimaced, cursing the dress's limited mobility. Without a moment to lose, she grabbed the Mani Katti and cut the skirt portion of the dress to a much more manageable length.

She grabbed both blades and gave them a few swings.

No mercy... Let's do this!

Robin, meanwhile, decided to arm himself with both of the Levin Swords in the inventory; the one he'd acquired before reuniting with Lyn, and the one Anna had given him.

I hope everyone else is okay...

"Our orders, Robin?" Miriel asked him.

"Huh?"

"C'mon, Rob, keep it together!" Vaike yelled. "I... I know things ain't great right now, but we still need ya here!"

"Chrom!" Cordelia cried.

Everyone followed her gaze. Without warning, Chrom had sprinted far ahead of everyone else and was now behind enemy lines. Robin was quick to regain his bearings. "Cordelia! I want you, Sumia and Nowi to keep an eye on the skies! If you see a wyvern, strike it down! The rest of us need to split up; some of us move forward to support Chrom, and the rest stay to defend the caravan!"

"Ha! Leave the defending to us," Basilio said. Flavia, Gregor, Lon'qu and Olivia stood behind him with their blades at the ready. "I'm no slouch with a bow, y'know. Those flying bastards won't know what hit 'em!"

Frederick climbed onto his horse and clutched the reins. "Very well. I shall assist milord at once!"

"Don't leave us out of this, Frederick!" Stahl yelled, mounting his horse alongside Sully and Vaike. "He's our friend too!"

The four rode after Chrom. The remaining Shepherds formed a circular formation around the wagons as the roar of wyverns filled the air and the Plegian army's soldiers began to close in on their position. On opposite sides of the caravan, Robin and Lyn readied themselves for combat.

"Prepare yourselves!" Robin shouted. "Here they come!"

True to their orders, the Shepherds who stayed behind fought tooth and nail to defend their only means of transportation. Sumia and Cordelia wasted no time in skewering wyvern and rider alike. Nowi and the mages blasted them out of the sky. On the ground, Basilio and Flavia fought tirelessly alongside their Ylissean allies.

From the north, a Plegian soldier sprinted towards the caravan. He cried out when a lightning bolt pierced his armor, and three more lodged themselves into his chest soon after. As he collapsed with a final bloody gurgle, Tharja didn't so much as bat an eyelash. She didn't care that these were her own countrymen she was killing. She didn't care that this could be considered an act of treason. She knew good and well that she wasn't going back; all that mattered now was her escape.

"Thunder!" she yelled over the rain. She flung a ball of electricity at a few more enemy soldiers' feet, sending them into the mud.

"Traitorous wench!"

She turned to her right. A mage in dark robes and a bird-like mask stared her down with a staff in one hand and a tome in the other. Both were tossed aside as he grabbed a third weapon from his back; a long spear with a blade similar to that of a Levin Sword. He spun it in front of him, grunting as it crackled to life, before rushing at her with a yell.

Tharja hurled thunder ball after thunder ball at him, but the blade absorbed them all and only grew brighter as a result.

Damn it!

The enemy mage closed the distance. He slammed the spear into the earth and unleashed a shockwave that sent Tharja flying backwards. She used her magic to land on her feet, but he ran after her and swung the weapon at her with all his might. Preparing for the worst, she held her arms in front of her face, but a third party was there to block the blow.

"Hah...!"

Tharja lowered her arms and gasped. Standing in front of her was none other than Robin. Sparks flew between his blades and the enemy's, and he grit his teeth as the dark mage pushed back with surprising strength.

"This is... nothing!" Robin uttered.

Tharja flanked their opponent and hit him with a ball of dark magic, but he didn't even flinch. He backed away from Robin, planted his spear into the earth and launched himself forward feet-first. The unorthodox attack struck Robin in the chest and sent him into the mud. The enemy mage turned and swung his weapon in Tharja's direction. She braced herself, but the oncoming wave of magic knocked her off her feet as well.

"Hh... Hah..." Robin, still reeling from the assault, got up and slashed the mage across the back. He was met with a sharp blow to the chin and a palm to the chest. "Gah!"

His swords clattered as they hit the ground, and a final boot to the stomach made him join them.

"Weak... So weak." The masked mage shook his head in disappointment. He held the electrified spear above Robin's face. "Now die in the name of the Fell—!"

He never finished his sentence. Robin's eyes flew open as a warm spatter of blood hit his cheek. He saw the tip of an arrow jut from the dark mage's chest. He gasped and rasped and wheezed beneath his mask, dropping his weapon as he turned to look at his assailant.

A very livid Lyndis.

"You stay the hell away from him!"

She darted forward with a primal screech, swapping her bow for her blades. The mage feebly lifted his hands in surrender, but Lyn closed the distance in a heartbeat and impaled him through the stomach. She withdrew her swords just as quickly, letting him fall to his knees and cradle his bleeding abdomen.

Without thinking, Lyn brought both of her blades to his neck before slicing his head clean off.

The corpse slumped off to the side. She sighed and sheathed her swords before helping Robin up. "You okay?"

"I... I think so," he replied, shaken from the violence. "... Thank you, Lyn."

"Don't leave my side." Her tone was harsher than usual. "Not even for a second, do you hear me?"

"But Lyn—"

"I can't lose you here!" she screamed. She saw him flinch and immediately regretted it. "... We can't lose you here, Robin. We already lost someone we care about today. Please... Just stay close to me. I won't let a single one of them touch you ever again."

"I..."

The two were jarred back into reality by a horse's neigh. A trio of Plegian cavaliers rushed towards them, and Lyn instinctively drew the Mani Katti from its scabbard. The pair gaped when the horses and their riders were impaled by a series of dark purple spikes emerging from the ground. A few nearby soldiers saw the scene and fled in horror. Robin and Lyn looked behind them to see Tharja with a purple tome in her hands.

"Sorry to interrupt such a tender moment," she snarked, "but we're not done yet."

"I could have handled them myself," Lyn scoffed. "... But thank you."

"Hm hmm... Whatever you say."

She sauntered away, and Lyn continued to scowl at her before turning her attention back to Robin. "... Come on. The others might still need our help."

He nodded without a moment to lose.

Far west of the caravan, a Plegian soldier hit the ground with a final grunt. Blood pooled from his chest and mixed with the mud and rain. He was one of several bodies left in the wake of the Ylissean prince. Chrom's swings were wild and relentless as he butchered multiple soldiers with Falchion. The recklessness of his actions was lost on him at the moment; every hit he took only made him angrier.

"Urgh!" One of the soldiers took a slash to the chest, stumbling backwards. Chrom lunged at him like an animal and slammed his blade deep into his shoulder. "Gack!"

He kicked the soldier to the ground. Chrom clutched Falchion with both hands and plunged it into the enemy again and again. When a swordsman ran at him, he parried the oncoming attack and slammed his fist into his nose.

As he staggered, Chrom ran him through.

"Monster!" a nearby Plegian cried, turning to flee. "The general will hear of this!"

He ran away, but it wasn't long before his allies took his place. Now Chrom was surrounded. Plegian soldiers circled him, taunting him, daring him to make a move. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and feel the taste of copper filling his mouth. He was caked in mud, water and blood, but he wasn't the least bit deterred. He snarled at his enemies and brandished Falchion all the same.

"Well?! Come on then! I'll kill every last one of you!"

Not one of them moved. A guttural roar escaped Chrom's lips as he ran forward and attacked a soldier at random. The soldier raised his lance to defend himself, but an overhead swing cleaved the weapon in two. Chrom downed the soldier with a slash to the eyes, and a few more shared similarly grotesque fates before an arrow grazed his side.

"Damnit!"

Chrom charged at the archer who'd launched it, but another soldier tackled the prince to the ground. The two wrestled for a bit before Chrom broke his nose with a brutal headbutt. The injured soldier rolled off of him, but several more moved forward to surround him once more.

Damn... Not yet... Not here!

A series of neighs filled the air. The soldiers looked away from Chrom to see some of the Shepherds riding towards them. Sully leapt off of her horse and hurled a javelin that impaled one of the assailants through the chest. Her horse kicked a nearby soldier away, and Stahl and Vaike soon entered the fray with their own weapons. It wasn't long before the mere sight of Frederick charging through the rain sent some of the survivors retreating.

"Milord!" Frederick cried. He dismounted and helped Chrom stand. "You're hurt!"

"I can still fight." Chrom brushed him off. He looked at his surroundings. Several soldiers were still standing and fighting some of the Shepherds, but more and more of them were beginning to show signs of hesitation. In the distance, he spotted the Plegian general from before observing the battle atop his wyvern.

"There." He pointed. "That's the general. I have to defeat him, Frederick. If I do... Then maybe we can get out of here alive."

"Milord, you're wounded! At least let us accompany y—"

"No... He's mine," Chrom growled. "Keep the others safe, Frederick. This is my fight."

A chill ran down Frederick's spine. "But—"

"That's an order, Frederick!"

With Falchion at his side, he began to run into enemy territory once more. Frederick shook his head in disbelief. "Shepherds! Keep the enemy away from Chrom at all costs!"

In the northwest corner of the swamp, Mustafa dismounted his wyvern and patted it on the head with a sigh. He'd been too late to assist Gangrel at the castle, but after seeing what had become of the Exalt, perhaps it was for the best. Her pale, bleeding body in the Ylissean prince's arms had been too much for him to bear. He knew she was dead before he even left the castle. So many innocent Plegians and Ylisseans had died, and all for a war that nobody wanted in the first place.

Were he a single man, he'd have abandoned his country long ago.

"Um... General?"

Mustafa looked to his left. The soldier who'd spoken to him was barely in his twenties. His spear was planted in the ground beside him as he fidgeted with his hands.

"At ease, lad. Speak."

He took a deep breath before doing so. "I... F-forgive me, General, but I... I don't want to fight the Ylisseans anymore. Not after what I saw at the castle."

His eyes widened a bit. "So you were there too..."

"Is it true?" another soldier asked. "... Is the Exalt really dead?"

Mustafa sighed, the sight of her corpse burned into his mind. "Aye. She's gone."

"I heard she died protecting the prince." A cavalier shook his head. "No wonder he's gone mad! I don't wanna fight someone like that!"

Several of the soldiers began talking and arguing among themselves. Mustafa opened his mouth to say something, but one of his wyvern riders cut him off.

"Craven, all of you!" he yelled. "Our orders are to fight, not to question orders! Didn't you hear His Majesty? Insubordination is death!"

The group fell silent. Gangrel had been exceedingly transparent regarding his expectations. Not knowing where else to look, Mustafa's platoon turned to him for counsel.

"General Mustafa..." The first soldier who'd spoken up stared at him with fearful brown eyes that reminded him all too much of his own son. "... What are we going to do now?"

He weighed his options. They'd lost far too many men as is, and the Ylisseans were already on their way if their eyes in the sky were to be believed. Mustafa had no intention of giving up, but if he could save as many lives as possible from here on out...

"Fall back, all of you."

"Huh?!"

"What?!"

"General!"

"I'll buy you all some time," Mustafa told them. "On my honor as a general, I will hold the Ylisseans off to the best of my ability!"

"General, this is suicide!" the cavalier protested. "I won't let you do it!"

"That's an order, soldier!"

"And one I refuse to follow, sir!"

Mustafa glanced around in surprise. Some of his soldiers had already retreated, but a few still refused to leave. They stood with their heads held high and their hearts full of conviction. Even if death awaited them, they would not falter.

"... No matter what happens," he said, smiling, "I'm proud to have served with you all."

At long last, Chrom had arrived at his destination. He stood in a plain gray field devoid of life and hope. Now that he was closer to the enemy general than ever before, he could get a better look at him. The general blocking his path was tall and muscular, most of his body encased in chainmail armor. Gone was the wyvern he'd once flown on, and he had but a few troops left at his disposal. A large pommel could be seen poking out from behind his shoulder, but he held an axe at his side.

"Prince Chrom," Mustafa rumbled. "I—"

"No... I don't want to hear it. Let's just get this over with."

"... Aye." The general walked over to one of his soldiers and handed him the axe. He addressed his troops with a loud, commandeering voice. "Stand down, everyone! This will be a fair fight."

Chrom looked around suspiciously as the soldiers obeyed. Mustafa walked forward and unsheathed a greatsword from his back, grasping it with both of his mighty hands. "You've done well to make it this far, Prince of Ylisse. A lifetime ago, I had the honor of fighting your father. He had the same look in his eye that you do now."

"How dare you." Chrom glowered. "... How dare you compare me to that man!"

"Yes... The same look indeed. But enough preamble; I am ready when you are."

Thunder clashed in the background as the rain continued to pour. Chrom went on the offensive as Mustafa stood rooted in place. He blocked the prince's rushing blows with ease, but he refused to retaliate. Even as some of the swings forced him backwards, he merely grunted as his blade took the brunt of the impact.

"Yes... There is much strength behind your strikes. Strength... and hatred," Mustafa said. "Is this the strength my sister faced in her final moments?"

"Don't play mind games with me! Stand up and fight!"

"I have no desire to harm you, Prince Chrom... But you are right. It pains me to fight, but fight I must to protect those I love." Mustafa took a deep, labored breath and swung his sword. "Gods forgive me!"

The sheer power of his swing sent Chrom backwards, even as he blocked. The general charged at him with an overhead swing. Chrom rolled off to the side as the sword struck the earth, and he took a swing at Mustafa's face, just narrowly missing his eye. The two continued to trade blows; Chrom fought with all his might, slashing and stabbing into his armor multiple times. Mustafa's swings were slower, but he seemed to miss more often. When he actually struck Chrom, it was always in the side; never in the head.

By now, the rainfall had reached its peak. It doused both combatants unrelentingly, almost blinding them. Chrom and Mustafa's breath ran ragged, but the former continued his assault. His heart was beating faster than it ever had. He hated this. He hated this entire situation. He hated how Mustafa seemed to be testing him, toying with him.

But most of all... He hated himself.

Falchion forced its way into the side of Mustafa's stomach. He cried out in pain and stumbled backwards.

With a feral cry and the last of his strength, Chrom brought his blade down hard. Mustafa attempted to block the blow, but the sheer force of the divine blade split his sword in two. Falchion sliced him down across the chest, piercing his armor and cutting through his flesh. He dropped his broken weapon and groaned as he collapsed in the mud.

Chrom took a few steps towards him, snarling and baring his teeth. He stood over Mustafa and held a bloodied Falchion held high above his head. Lightning split the sky and, for a brief moment in time, Mustafa saw not Chrom, but Exalt Chronos himself.

"F... Fall back," Mustafa rasped at his men. "Fall back, all of you!"

"But General!"

"GO!"

Reluctantly, the rest of Mustafa's men fled. Chrom glanced at them for a moment before turning his attention back to the general at his feet. He readied his blade once more. "You... You're finished."

"Chrom, no!"

He paused. Chrom turned to see Robin staring at him with the most horrified expression he'd ever made.

"... What?"

"Don't do it," he begged, shaking his head. "Please... He's already been defeated. Emmeryn wouldn't want you to—"

"Emmeryn's not here!"

Lightning crashed in the distance once more. Chrom still held Falchion, but it was no longer in the air. His arms hung limply at his side, the memories of his sister flooding back into his mind.

"She… She's not…"

His vision became blurry as his eyes stung all over again. Despite his feelings, and despite his own words, he knew that Robin was right.

That she was right.

Chrom's breathing became more and more frantic as he looked over at Mustafa; not as an adversary, but as a fellow human being. There were deep gashes in his face and armor—gashes he inflicted—and his greatsword was in pieces beside him. His eyes were large, and his face was frozen with fear as he held a bloodied hand in front of him.

Had they all made the same face when he...?

A wave of nausea washed over him. Chrom fell to his knees, dropping Falchion. "What… What have I done?"

"Chrom."

Robin's hand was now on his shoulder. When they made eye contact, he shook his head in silence.

"This wasn't... your fault." Mustafa coughed, doing his best to sit up. "I care not what you do with me, but please... Please spare the rest of my men. They never wanted this war. Many of them are only fighting because Gangrel threatened their families. Just like he threatened mine…"

"What?!" Chrom and Robin both blurted. Chrom immediately grit his teeth and punched the ground. "Damn him! Does that madman only exist to make everyone around him suffer?!"

"He wasn't always like this…" Mustafa rose to his knee with Robin's help, still clutching his chest. "The Grimleal… They changed him."

"Chrom," Robin said, his voice ragged. "The Plegian troops... They're retreating, all of them. What do we do now?"

"I… I'm sorry, Mustafa." Chrom sighed. "This wasn't your fault either; it was Gangrel's and Gangrel's alone. Emmeryn even said as much herself... Gods, damn him!"

He took a deep breath and calmed himself down. "... Robin. Tell the others not to pursue the troops. If a Plegian is laying their arms down and surrendering, they're to be let go. Any runners are free to go as well."

Robin nodded with a small smile, but he soon nudged his head in Mustafa's direction. "And the general? He's in no condition to fight anymore..."

"... We can take you prisoner." Chrom faced him. "Just until the war's over. Once Gangrel's been dealt with, we'll release you and you can see your family again."

"You… You would offer me mercy, even when I threatened your lives?" Mustafa's mouth hung agape. "I… I do not deserve such kindness…"

The pair moved to help him to his feet, but they froze when he suddenly yelled, "Get down!"

Mustafa lunged at them and shoved them to the ground. He cried out, blood flying from his mouth. He grunted and collapsed off to the side with a sickening gurgle. Chrom and Robin quickly got up to check on him, and their hearts sank at what they saw.

A hand axe protruding from his upper back.

"No!" Robin yelled. "Why...?"

An obnoxious cackle filled their ears. Both looked up to see Vasto staring down at them from his wyvern, a maniacal grin plastered on his face.

"I always knew you were an Ylissean sympathizer, Mustafa," he sneered. "You are hereby relieved of duty!"

"Damn you, Vasto!" Chrom snarled. "Come down here so I can end you myself!"

"No can do, Princey! I've got places to be and people to see!" Vasto smirked. "Incidentally... Thanks for sparing me way back when, jackasses! Now two people are dead because of you! Hahahaha!"

He flew away without a second to lose. A bolt of lightning clipped one of his wyvern's wings, but the beast managed to carry its master away from the scene all the same.

"Mustafa..." Chrom knelt at his side. "... I'm sorry."

"Nn... Don't be, lad. I suppose it was only a matter of time..." Mustafa closed his eyes. "Sonya... I'm sorry. Take care of Joseph for me..."

By the time the other Shepherds had finally arrived, the old general was long gone. Chrom and Robin stood over him with bitter, remorseful expressions. Chrom had been genuine in his suggestion of taking him with them, but Vasto's untimely arrival put an end to that dream. Chrom faced the others with a vacant look in his eye; he was relieved to hear that no one else had died in the skirmish, but the night's events would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Is everyone ready?"

The emptiness in his voice was unsettling. Seeing his friends and comrades-in-arms nod, Chrom sighed and looked to the roads north of their position.

"... Then let's move."

Crash.

A mirror shattered in a rage.

Smash.

And another.

Crash.

And another.

To say Gangrel was upset would be the understatement of the century. As he grumbled and swore and flung various pieces of furniture around his chamber, his blood boiled. How dare those Ylisseans show up uninvited! How dare they ruin his special night! And how dare that blonde-haired Exalt—his own prisoner, no less—throw herself in front of her brother in such an asinine way!

"Damn her..." Gangrel sank to the floor and slammed his fist into the marble tile. He'd seen it all before: the look in her eye as she fell, the selflessness of her action, that unbridled urge to protect someone…

A tear escaped from his eye as he struck the floor repeatedly.

"Damn her, damn her, damn her…!"

Tenda was a bustling village in the northwest region of Plegia. Even with the threat of the Mad Exalt hanging over their heads, the villagers did their best to live out their day-to-day lives in relative peace and tranquility. Gangrel was the only child of a pair of peasants. Their house was small compared to most of the other houses in the village, but it was enough for them. For a time, life was good.

That all changed one terrible summer morning...

When Gangrel's father entered the house, his eyes were wide.

"What is it, dear?" his wife asked.

"They're here," he uttered. "The Ylisseans are here... You two need to hide in the cellar!"

Many villagers shut themselves in their homes as a multitude of horses approached the outskirts of town. Several soldiers in silver armor bearing the Brand of the Exalt rode ahead to investigate. After a few minutes of knocked doors refusing to open, they reported back to their white-clad leader. Exalt Chronos was a tall man with dark blue hair and a full beard. Attached to his left shoulder was the Fire Emblem; in his right hand was the Falchion.

"Exalt Chronos," a cavalier said. "... There's no response."

"... Very well," he answered impassionately. "Then we'll just have to smoke them out."

Chronos nodded at his men, signalling for them to ready their bows. A mage in hooded white robes came by with a Fire tome, lighting the tips of their arrows. Once they were all set aflame, the Exalt waved his hand forward.

"Fire at will."

Dozens of blazing arrows soared through the skies, striking many a house. Within minutes, the entire town was engulfed in flames. Men, women and children fled their homes in a panic only to meet their fate on the end of a sword or spear. Chronos rode ahead, striking down anyone he could with the Falchion. The Grimleal would pay for their crimes against Ylisse, even if they had to pay in blood.

Chronos heard a woman scream and rode in her direction. A small house on the other side of town was ablaze, and a family of three was pulled out of it by several soldiers. The red-haired father of the household was pinned down and speared several times.

"You monsters," his wife wept, clutching her little boy. "What did we ever do to you?!"

Chronos stared at them in silence. Despite their protests, the soldiers forcibly separated the mother from her son. One of them approached the red-haired boy with a sword in hand.

"Nn... NO!" She wrestled herself free. "Leave him ALONE!"

"MOM!"

It was over in seconds. The boy's mother had thrown herself in front of him. He stared at her in disbelief as the blade pierced through her back and out her chest, some of her blood landing on his cheek.

"Run, Gangrel…" A single tear rolled down her face. "We… love you…"

She collapsed to the ground next to her husband. Gangrel couldn't take it anymore. He could only do what his mother told him to do and run away from the terrible scene. His parents and neighbors were dead, his entire village was burning, and the sight of his parents' corpses was permanently etched into his fragile young mind.

"Milord," a soldier said, watching the boy flee. "Should we…?"

Chronos lifted a hand to silence him. "... No. Leave him be. He'll never amount to anything. He's more likely to die out there in the wilderness."

The Ylisseans took their leave soon after. The village of Tenda, along with its neighboring villages, would soon be nothing more than a memory.

A tragic, painful memory.

By the time Gangrel finally finished punching the ground, his knuckles were bloodied and the tile was cracked. He was almost certain he'd broken his hand. Still, even that pain was nothing compared to the pain of losing his home.

His family.

After escaping the burning village, a young Gangrel fled to Paralcya. With no parents or money to his name, he was forced to resort to thievery to survive in the capital. Years would pass before he became a soldier in the Plegian army; it was around this time that news spread of the Exalt's demise.

Plegia's previous ruler, Queen Anastasia, was a firm but fair monarch. When she heard that the newest Ylissean Exalt on the throne was a child advocating for peace, she was quick to voice her approval and plans to cooperate.

Her people were quick to voice their disapproval, however, and quickly acted on it.

One night, a lowly soldier in collaboration with the rising insurgents crept into the queen's private chambers and slit her throat.

That soldier… was Gangrel.

The ensuing power vacuum was intense, but as it was Gangrel who'd done the deed, it was decided that it was he who would take her place. He proved to be a fine ruler; a man of the people whose ideals of Plegian nationalism sat well with many.

For a time, it was good to be king… and then Aversa wormed her way into his life under the guise of being his "Royal Advisor." The Grimleal had existed in Plegia since its formation a thousand years ago, but Gangrel would've purged them all given the chance.

Aversa had been a constant thorn in his side for the better part of a decade now, but he would have been able to tolerate her more if not for one little thing.

The Darksphere.

Gangrel turned to the stone in question, glaring as it rested on a plush pillow on his nightstand. His fury grew as the gemstone appeared to wobble back and forth. It mocked him, taunted him with its mere presence.

"You." He stood up and stormed over to the stone before clutching it in his hands and shaking it repeatedly. "YOU DID THIS TO ME!"

He heard laughing. His eyes instantly flew to the last of his surviving mirrors. At first he saw himself laughing, but then the figure swirled and distorted until it no longer resembled him. Instead, it now resembled a much older Chrom with a beard. That same man who'd taken everything from him...

Gangrel roared and flung the Darksphere at the mirror. It shattered at once, but the Darksphere merely bounced off and rolled along the floor without even the slightest scratch on it. Gangrel sank to his knees and wept through grit teeth.

"Damn those Ylissean worms," he cursed. "Damn those Feroxi trash… Damn those Grimleal bastards! DAMN THEM ALL TO HELL!"

Gangrel…

He whirled around, searching for the source of the noise. The voice was horrid and croaky, as if its owner had lived long beyond the average Plegian's lifespan. Gangrel leapt to his feet and drew his sword with his good hand. "Who's there? I told Aversa I wasn't seeing anyone right now! Now come out and die already!"

"Death... is a curse," the voice said, coming from the darkest corner of the room. "Life... is a blessing, and it's the light that ultimately saves us from the darkness in our hearts."

Gangrel's eyes narrowed, and his grip on his weapon only tightened as the voice continued to talk to him.

"We all think that at first, Gangrel." A withered, decrepit husk of a man stepped out of the shadows. "We are all wrong."

Gangrel took on a fighting stance as he analyzed the strange man. He wore green, decidedly non-Grimleal robes with a star medallion resting above his stomach. Long dark hair receded a considerable amount from his forehead, and his skin was a sickly gray much like Gangrel's own. His skin, however, was wrinkly beyond belief. He gazed at Gangrel with glassy pale eyes, one of them almost entirely white.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my castle?!" Gangrel demanded, pointing his blade outward as it sparked. "Are you a ghost? One of Aversa's nightmare creations, perhaps?!"

"You are right to fear me, Gangrel," he rasped, "but I assure you I mean no harm. In life, I was known as Gharnef. Now…"

The old man held his arms out. "Now I am one with the Darksphere. I am Sable, and Sable is I. Believe me… I know your plight all too well."

Gangrel let out a short, joyless chuckle. "So that's it then? You're the one who came up with that ridiculous nickname the Ylisseans cling to?"

He glared down his sword at the apparition. "You still haven't answered my question, devil ghost. Begone!"

Gangrel launched a lightning bolt at the strange man, but it merely phased through him and hit the wall behind him instead. Gharnef cackled wretchedly in response. "You are a fool! You cannot kill that which is already dead!"

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"

"I will not. At least not until you hear my proposal."

"I don't give two shits about your proposal! Now get!"

Gharnef folded his hands together and closed his eyes. "You reject the Darksphere, Gangrel. Even now it calls out to you, just as it did to me… just as it did to Hardin. Yet you ignore its power all the same."

"I don't want its power! That devil stone ruined me! I was meant to be so much more than… this!"

"Aye, you were…" Gharnef nodded in understanding. "... But the Darksphere is not to blame. Your anger, and your heartbreak… These are that blasted Exalt's fault. Were it not for him and his ilk, you would have never lost your home. Your family. I know all too well what it's like to have your life tarnished by some blue-haired brat…"

"But the Darksphere saved me," he concluded, "and it can save you too."

"Save me? Save me?!" At this, Gangrel began to shake and tremble. "Heheheh... Hahahaha... AHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Is this some kind of twisted joke?!" he snapped. "All my dreams and ambitions have gone to shit, and it's that accursed stone's fault! Save me... Pah..."

Gangrel lowered his blade and stared at the floor. "Nothing can save me now…"

"Your reluctance to give in is holding you back," Gharnef told him, stepping closer. Gangrel didn't even flinch. "If you allow the Darksphere into your heart and mind, you will know power like never before. Never again will you feel guilt. Shame. Regret. Indeed… if you pledge yourself to it entirely, the Darksphere will make you invincible in both body and mind. That prince to the east? A mere fly compared to you! Those barbarian Khans? Fleas! That red-clad maniac to the west? A single thanatophage!"

Gangrel looked to the Darksphere still sitting on the ground. Even now, it seemed to pulsate and wobble back and forth, almost pleading to be held. After a few moments of silent deliberation, he turned back to Gharnef with a raised eyebrow and addressed him softly. "... You really think this could work?"

"I know it!" Gharnef egged him on, clenching his wrinkled fists. "Now come, grab the Darksphere and allow yourself to be immersed in its great power!"

He wrung his hands together eagerly as Gangrel walked over to the gemstone with a mystified look in his eye. He'd held it more than enough times, but never before had it possessed such a pull... It was as though his heart was being drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Gangrel's breath was shaky as he held a trembling hand above the orb. Good and bad memories alike began to blur as the darkness seeped into the farthest reaches of his mind.

Gharnef nodded, his withered lips forming a wicked grin. "Good, Gangrel... Gooood. Embrace your feelings of anguish and torment. Let the hate flow through you! Let it guide your every move, feed your every desire! Let it claim you, that you may obtain power beyond your wildest imagination!"

Both hands now hovered above the orb.

"DO IT!"

He finally clutched the Darksphere and held it to his chest. Gharnef could only watch on in silent glee as the Darksphere's newest host began to whisper and laugh, its power surging through his body and mind. Gangrel's red irises shrank, and his mouth contorted grotesquely as he grinned from ear to ear, unable to stop himself from giggling maniacally.

"Hee hee hee… Hahahahaha…!"

Finally, he threw his head and hands back as he let out a mad cackle unlike ever before.

"AHHH-HA-HA-HA-HAAAAAA!"

It wasn't long before the commotion prompted a few soldiers to enter the room, ready to defend their king. They gaped at the messy room with glass and furniture scattered everywhere, but then that they focused their vision on the Mad King instead. He was the only one in the room, hunched over a dark orb as he continued to cackle.

"M-milord…? Your Excellency?"

Gangrel's vision shifted to the three in his midst, and his smile only grew.

"... King Gangrel?"

"It's playtime."

Okay, so... These past few months have been pretty wild, huh? I really struggled with this chapter and recent events have not made it any easier. Still, I should have managed my time much more wisely, so I really only have myself to blame. I just hope that this chapter can provide at least some of you with a bit of respite in spite of its tone. ^^

Speaking of the story itself, I really am gonna miss Emmeryn, but I decided a long time ago that certain story beats moving forward just wouldn't have the same impact if I didn't commit to it. She may appear in dream sequences or flashbacks, but unless she comes back as a Risen for whatever reason, she's staying dead. Ditto for Mustafa. :/

Fair warning, Chapter 19 probably isn't going to be all sunshine and rainbows either, but someone has to write it, and that someone is me! That chapter's also likely going to be shorter than this one if I can help it because these last couple of chapters have been pretty long and I kinda don't know how people feel about that. I dunno, whatever works best for the story, right? ^^;

Now it's time for me to reply to some guest feedback!

Chicosai: Oh, yes; Tharja in particular is going to give Lyn a hard time as the story moves forward. Probably not now due to current events in-universe, but... Soon-ish. So sorry about the almost kiss, but I promise we're almost there. ;)

Guest: Thanks! Glad you enjoyed. We'll see more of Valm later, and I'm glad you enjoyed the character moments! We'll definitely be focusing more on the characters and their reactions next time. Stay tuned!

JP I'm Italian: Thanks! Nice to hear from you too. Glad you liked the little nods to Valm and Elibe; we'll certainly be hearing more about both a bit later. I promise Lyn and Robin will have more than enough time to catch up on lost kisses when it's tonally appropriate.

We'll also be seeing more Tharja, Henry and Virion later, and writing Anna so far has been a blast!

With regards to Emmeryn, I was actually listening to "Paths That Will Never Cross" from 3H when writing her fight scene; it seemed thematically appropriate since she's tried so hard to make amends with Gangrel, but their paths ultimately never did or will cross. Gangrel himself was definitely out of it towards the end, but at least now we have a good idea of why that might've happened. ^^;

Sorry for being so wordy (and tardy :/), but a big thanks to all of you and everyone who's continued to read up until this point! I know my update schedule has been pretty inconsistent as of late, but Chapter 19 and 20 are already partially written so they shouldn't take anywhere near as much time as this one did.

Thanks again, feel free to give me your honest thoughts, stay safe and healthy (and indoors if possible), and see you all next time! :)

- Angel