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Time was running out. Askr was completely surrounded by armies of undead soldiers. Embla had already succumbed to Hel’s wrath—the remaining survivors took refuge in Askr, forming a temporary alliance between the two countries. But soon, their sanctuary would become a graveyard if they didn't stop the onslaught.
“There's no winning this, is there?” you said to Alfonse as he watched the swarms of undead encroach the border from the castle window.
“If we fight back? Not a chance. But…” He trailed off.
“But what?” you asked, tapping your foot anxiously on the stone floor. It wasn't like Alfonse to be vague with you. It was worrying.
“There might be a way to defeat Hel.” He didn't look away from the window. You stepped closer to him and peered over his shoulder from behind. The oncoming armies looked like ants from the upper floor of the castle.
“There is? Why didn't you tell me sooner? Alfonse, how do we defeat her?” you asked desperately, placing a hand on his shoulder and turning him to face you. You noticed his eyes are rimmed with red.
“There's a ritual called The Heart’s Rite. If we perform it, we can create a weapon strong enough to defeat Hel.”
“But there's a catch, right?” There had to be. Why else would Alfonse hesitate if there wasn't? Nothing could be that simple.
“It requires every living being in this world to be a sacrifice,” he said through clenched teeth. Your heart sank at the thought of every person you know and love ceasing to exist. Every hero you've summoned to this world would be gone forever, never to return to their own worlds. But if Hel wasn't defeated, they wouldn't have a world to return to. Her plan didn't stop once this world was destroyed—she planned on destroying them all.
“What are you waiting for?” you asked, even though you already knew the answer.
Alfonse looked anywhere in the room but at your eyes. “It would be the same as killing everyone by my own hand. I can't do it. I can't kill you.”
You placed your hands on either side of Alfonse’s face and turned him towards you. “Alfonse,” you said, “My life belongs to you. Whatever you choose to do with it, I'll trust you.”
In another world:
On the battlefield, the Order of Heroes was defending against an ambush of undead soldiers from Hel’s army. With little time to prepare, you came up with a last-minute defense strategy. It was risky, but you were confident it would be enough to hold the line.
You stayed near the castle as the last line of defense; Alfonse preferred it that way. “You're too important to us,” he always said whenever you tried to join the battle. From where you stood, you could see his squad in the distance, readying themselves for the next wave of enemies.
When the enemies finally arrived, there was one in particular that stood out from the rest. He was wearing black and purple armor that concealed the bottom half of his face. His oversized fur cape nearly touched the ground and the sword in his hand gave off a purple glow that could be spotted from across the battlefield. It was obvious he was some kind of general based on appearance, but there was something strange about the way he fought. He was defending himself from attacks, but he wasn't fighting back. It seemed as if he was searching for something, uncaring about anything else that was going on around him.
You watched in horror as the enemy general pushed his way through your carefully thought-out formations. It seemed like nothing could stop this man. Only Alfonse's squad was left to take him down. You readied Breidablik in case they needed backup.
And then he saw you.
From across the battlefield, you locked eyes with the enemy general. It was as if nothing else mattered to him. He immediately started running towards you, cutting down anyone who tried to stop him. Everything happened too quickly; You barely had time to react. Someone yelled your name. It was Alfonse. He tried to stop the general from reaching you, but he was shoved away with ease. You screamed as Alfonse hit the ground with a painful thud.
With no other option, you fired your weapon at the general. You hit your target, but he seemed unphased by the pain. His only focus was you. When he was close enough, he grabbed you by the collar and held you up to eye-level, inspecting you. His eyes were glowing blood-red, but their shape was familiar. You were sure you'd seen those eyes before.
He raised his sword and pointed it at your chest, barely touching the outside of your robe. You looked up at him and said, “Have we met before…?” His eyes widened and he tightened his grip on you.
From off to the side, Alfonse called your name again. He was limping towards you, sword in hand.
“Let her go!” he snarled. You had never seen him this angry before.
Before you could process what was happening, the general sheathed his sword and used his free hand to draw something in the air with his fingers. A portal opened in the empty space in front of him. He stepped inside, bringing you with him.
Everything went dark.
When you woke up, you were in a bed. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but it was better than the floor. The room was mostly empty, other than the bed and a small table and chair. There were no windows, but two different doors. You walked over to the nearest door and opened it. It led to a small washroom, which was also windowless. You tried the other door, but it was locked. The room may have been nicer than the average prison cell, but it was still a prison.
After what felt like hours, the door finally opened. Standing there in the doorway was the same enemy general that captured you. He stepped in and closed the door behind him. Your heart started racing and all of your fight or flight instincts kicked in. Since flight wasn't an option, you prepared to fight. The only problem was your Breidablik was nowhere to be found. It must have been confiscated while you were unconscious. Not knowing what else to do, you tried to reason with him.
“What do you want from me?” you asked. He didn't answer. You tried another question. “Where are we?” Still no answer. Apparently he wasn't the talkative type. You noticed his sword was hanging from his belt, but he didn't seem interested in using it. He continued to stare at you in silence. You decided to try another question. “What's your name?”
“Líf,” he answered. His voice was deeper than you imagined and oddly soothing. You decided it was only fair to tell him your name. He didn't seem to care, promptly taking his leave.
You were alone again.
You weren't sure how much time had passed since the last visit, but eventually Líf returned. This time, he brought you something to eat. It wasn't a gourmet meal by any means, but you were hungry and it was better than nothing. You sat down at the small table and ate while Líf stood near the door, watching. It seemed odd that Líf was the one guarding you. If he was truly a high-ranking general like you suspected, shouldn't guard duty be left to someone else?
Once you finished your meal, Líf took his leave again. He didn't come back for the rest of the day. This seemed to be the pattern for a while. He would check on you occasionally throughout the day, sometimes bringing food, other times just watching you silently. You tried striking a conversation a few times, but his answers were one-worded or non-existent. Today, you tried something different.
“It gets lonely in here,” you said quietly, “Please, stay awhile?”
Líf answered by taking a seat at the table and crossing his arms. It looked like he was waiting for you to say something.
“Thank you,” you smiled at him. “I'm guessing you don't want to talk much, but I could tell you some stories if you’d like.” He huffed indifferently. You took that as a cue to continue.
For a while, you mindlessly told him any story that came to mind. He didn't respond, but you could tell he was listening intently. You only stopped speaking when someone forcefully opened the door. It was a woman wearing black and red armor, with a mask covering her eyes and a cream-colored cape hanging off her shoulders. She was probably another general.
“Of course I'd find you here,” she scolded. “You were supposed to return an hour ago.”
Líf looked at you and gave a small nod before getting up from his seat and following the woman out of the room. From outside the door, you heard muffled voices. Curiosity got the better of you, so you pressed your ear to the door to see if you could understand what they were saying.
“How long are you planning on keeping your prisoner alive? You're prolonging the inevitable.” It was the woman speaking.
“That doesn't concern you,” Líf responded.
“If Hel finds out about this—”
Líf was beginning to sound irritated. “I know, Thrasir. You don't need to remind me.”
“I could do it for you,” Thrasir offered, “I would make sure it was quick and painless.”
“STAY OUT OF THIS,” Líf raised his voice. Thrasir seemed amused by his sudden outburst.
“Fine by me,” she chuckled. “You're only making it harder on yourself. And I won't offer to help you again.” By the fading sound of heels clicking against the stone floors, you presumed she was gone.
The prisoner they spoke of must have been you. You pondered over their conversation trying to piece together the reason for your capture. Why was Líf set on capturing only you? If he needed a hostage, surely a member of the Askr royal family would have given him more leverage? Your weapon was quite sought after, but he had no reason to keep you alive if all he needed was the weapon. Nothing made sense. You decided to give it a rest and lie down for the night.
When Líf visited the next day, you asked him to stay again.
“That woman you were talking to yesterday, Thrasir, was it?” Líf nodded. “I heard parts of your conversation,” you admitted.
“Forget what you heard,” he said firmly and you knew the conversation was over.
The day after that, you asked him to stay, but this time you were more specific in your request.
“Will you sit on the bed with me?” you asked. Líf contemplated the question for a moment before walking over and taking a seat next to you. It was the closest you two had been since he captured you. He was still wearing his armor, but up close you could see the strange translucent parts of his body that revealed his skeleton underneath. It was fascinating to look at and you wondered what it would feel like to touch. Was it solid like glass or soft and fleshy?
“Hey, Líf?” You got his attention. “Have we met before? You seem familiar to me and I can't figure out why.”
“No,” he answered. You somehow sensed he was being honest, which made you even more confused. Without thinking, your hands reached up and touched the mask that was covering Líf’s face. He quickly grabbed your wrists and held them in place, stopping you from continuing.
“Please?” you whispered, “I need to know.” Your voice was desperate. You needed answers and this was probably your only chance. Unexpectedly, you felt the grip on your wrists loosen. He allowed you to pull off the mask.
As soon as you saw the face underneath, you couldn't hold back your tears. The bottom half of his face was translucent and glowing blue like other parts of his body, his teeth and skull visible underneath. But the shape of his face was still there. Finally seeing his eyes and face all at once, you were able to piece together his identity. He was Alfonse.
“It's you…” you barely managed to choke out the words. He looked older than the Alfonse you knew, but there was no mistaking that face. It couldn't be anyone else.
Líf looked away in shame but you tugged his chin in your direction so he was forced to look at you. The translucent skin was smooth and solid, like he was made out of crystal.
“What happened to you, Alfonse?” You felt Líf tense up at hearing that name.
“Do not call me that name,” he pleaded, “I am no longer worthy of it.”
“I'm sorry,” you said sadly. “But you're him, aren't you?” He nodded once.
“Let me show you.” He stood up from the bed and opened up a portal the same way he did when you were captured. He took your hand and led you through it. The world he brought you to completely empty, devoid of all life. There wasn't a single person in sight; Even the plants and trees were dead.
Your hands were still laced tightly together. You gave his hand a squeeze. “Where are we?”
“This is Askr,” he said. “My Askr.” He explained to you about the Heart's Rite ritual that sacrificed all of the living beings in his world in exchange for a weapon that could defeat Hel. Having seen enough of the lifeless world, the two of you returned back through the portal.
“Why did you capture me?” You wasted no time asking the question. Since Líf was finally starting to open up to you, maybe you could get an answer this time.
Líf said nothing and sat back down on the bed. You joined him. A few minutes passed before the silence was broken.
“Hel made a deal with me when I joined her army. She informed me that if I balanced the cohort of the dead in a way that if someone from another world is killed, someone from my own Askr would be revived.”
Everything started to make sense. The conversation between Líf and Thrasir about taking your life—that was his plan from the start. On the battlefield the day he captured you, he held his sword to your heart, ready to take your life. But for some reason, he hesitated. Bringing you back to the realm of the dead with him was probably not part of the plan.
“The me from your world,” you swallowed nervously before continuing, “You loved them?” Líf said nothing, which was all the answer you needed. “And if you were to kill me right now, you could bring them back to life?” He nodded. If that was true, then why were you still alive? What was he waiting for?
Without hesitation, you held his face between your hands and looked into his eyes. The words flowed out of you naturally. “My life belongs to you. Whatever you choose to do with it, I'll trust you.”
Líf froze. His eyes widened in disbelief. He reached his hands out towards you slowly, like if he moved too fast you would disappear. His hands gently touched either side of your face, carefully tracing all the way down to your neck. His fingers curled around your throat lightly.
You closed your eyes and accepted that you were going to die.
But death never came. You felt something smooth and cool against your lips, like polished stone. Líf was close to you. Through closed eyelids, you could see the blue glow of his crystal-like skin leaking through. He was kissing you. His hands trembled against your neck, still holding onto you like you were something fragile that would crack under the lightest touch.
Before you could reciprocate the kiss, Líf pulled away abruptly, as if had been burned by something. He stood up from the bed and left the room in a hurry, not once looking back.
Líf never came back to visit you. Somebody else was tasked with bringing your meals. You lost track of time, but you were sure it had been several days without seeing him. It worried you. Especially after learning the truth about his identity.
The door opened, and to your surprise, it was Líf who was standing there.
“You finally came,” you said with a smile. It really had been lonely without anyone to talk to.
“It's time to leave,” was all he said to you.
You looked at him, confused. “Aren't you going to kill me? Don't you want to bring back your beloved?”
Líf stepped closer to you. He reached down and tilted your chin upwards so you could look into his eyes. “You are my beloved,” he said quietly, “and I won't let you die again.” After letting go of your chin, he reached into a pocket inside of his cape and pulled out a ring. The band was silver with tiny gold accents carved into it that reminded you of the Askr crest. In the center was a bright blue gem that somehow sparkled brightly despite the dim lighting in the room. It was gorgeous.
Líf reached for your left hand and slipped the ring on your fourth finger. “I never got a chance to give this to you back in my world.”
“Is this what I think it is…?” Líf nodded.
For a moment, you imagined the life that was stolen from Líf. A life full of happiness and love that you—the other you—could have shared with him. It was heartbreaking. You weren't the same person, yet you felt the loss all the same.
“Let me stay with you. I know I'm not the same person, but—”
Líf didn't let you finish. “It's time to go.” Before you could protest, he pulled off his mask and pressed his lips to yours again. You made sure you got the chance to reciprocate this time.
Something was different about the kiss compared to the last one. It tasted like death and darkness and you felt your consciousness slipping.
“What are you...doing to me…?” You mumbled sleepily.
Líf whispered to you as you fell asleep. “I love you. Every you.”
Alfonse knew he was walking straight into a trap. Yesterday, a female general from Hel’s army showed up outside of Askr and asked someone to pass along a message to him.
“If you want your precious summoner back, meet outside the realm of the dead tomorrow. And come alone or else the deal is off.”
He knew it was a trap, and yet he found himself standing outside the gates of Hel anyway, completely alone. If there was any chance at all of getting the summoner back, he had to try. He couldn't live with himself if he gave up so easily.
Eventually, a figure emerged from the gates. He recognized him as the same enemy general that he faced on the battlefield a few weeks ago. In his arms, he carried an unconscious summoner.
“What did you do?!” Alfonse yelled, but the general ignored him. He carefully handed over the summoner.
“Make a better future than mine,” was all he said to Alfonse before turning around and walking away.
You woke up in a familiar room. You recognized the surroundings. This was your room. You were lying down in your own bed. The sunlight coming through the windows burned your eyes. You had windows again. When was the last time you saw the sun?
Your shifting around must have alerted someone nearby. A voice spoke to you.
“I wasn't sure if you were going to wake up.” The voice belonged to Alfonse. You opened your eyes the rest of the way and saw his face hovering over you. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” You don't think you had ever heard Alfonse sound as upset as he did right now. You quickly tried to ease his worries.
“No! Not at all, I promise. I was actually well taken care of,” you admit. Alfonse raises an eyebrow at you but doesn't question it further.
A hazy memory suddenly flooded your mind and you quickly looked down at your left hand. The ring was still there. Alfonse grabbed your hand and brought it closer to his face to observe.
“Have you always worn this? I've never seen it before.” Your face was instantly flushed with red.
“N-no. It's new,” you explain.
“It's very beautiful.” He smiled and laced your fingers together.
From that day forward, you never took off the ring. Not until the day you were given a different ring to replace it with. When Alfonse proposed to you years later, you moved Líf’s ring from your finger to a chain around your neck where it always sat close to your heart. The ring was a reminder that in every world, in life and in death, there was an Alfonse that loved you. Every you.