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They knew. From the moment the sky broke open to reveal the swirling mass beyond, they knew. The sealed land of Gradlon sizzled around them, covered in a blanket of black volcanic ash. The embers seared the air and choked anyone who dared to approach.
This journey would surely destroy them.
The twelve who were called Emblems gathered in a semi-circle around their de-facto leader. The Hero-King, Marth raised his head for all of them to see.
“Thank you all for your companionship,” Marth told them. He was not the tallest among them, nor the most intimidating. But his dark hair and eyes, the cloak that rippled across his shoulders that was pinned together with a ruby brooch, and the way he carried himself served to give him the utmost air of authority. “Thank you all for what you have done for this world. Alear feels the same gratitude I do.”
Byleth glanced around, his calculating stare the only thing betraying what he might have hidden inside. Even then he was sure that no one could have known of the inkling of trepidation that came to him.
“We are only doing our duty as Emblems,” added Sigurd from across the way. Out of them all, he seemed the noblest, the most sure-footed. His high white collar embroidered in gold and his confident expression made him look like a leader too.
But, Byleth supposed, every single one of them was.
Celica and Micaiah with their unending kindness, Leif and Roy with their resolve, Lucina with her belief in the strength of bonds, Ike with his straightforward tactics, and Corrin and Erika with their strive toward peace. All of them had their reasons, and their pasts, and that brought them together to help yet another wayward soul who sought to save what they too loved.
“We can only hope that now, Alear will rely on friends,” remarked Lucina. She smiled, gripping the sword at her side. “It is what any of us would have done.”
Marth nodded in agreement. “If we are needed in this world once again, I am sure we will find a way to return,” he said. “But for now…”
“For now, we have our own battles to fight,” finished Sigurd. There was a twinkle in his eyes that flickered only for a second. If Byleth had not been paying attention, he would have missed it, but he had seen that look before on someone else’s face. Someone he should have known.
A blond boy with an azure cape rushed by him. He turned, his mouth opening, saying that he did not want to take the lives of others. That it reminded him of something he would have rather forgotten.
A girl with silvery hair and striking purple eyes stared at him as if she were analyzing him. She warned that the path she was about to take was stained with death, that the pools of blood she stood on would only grow.
A boy with a teasing smile on his face peered at him in a way that did not fit his demeanor. There was something else. There was always something else. He asked for the secrets he could not give.
Byleth shook his head. The throbbing pain that started at the base of his skull had grown. It was almost time.
Around him and the other Emblems, the image of the plane they existed on shattered like glass. He thought he heard a chittering laugh when he heard the familiar sound.
“It seems you have forgotten about me,” a young girl’s voice said. “What a shame.” He thought he caught a glimpse of emerald hair and a granite throne. He could not find the source.
But then he was standing on a hill overlooking the Somniel. A forest surrounded them. Alear appeared before him, red and blue hair waving in the gentle breeze, and a look so devastating that he realized then what was about to happen.
Byleth could see the others behind Alear. Prince Alfred from Firene, Prince Diamant from Brodia, Princess Timerra from Solm, and Princess Ivy from Elusia. All of them were so colorful, so different from where Byleth hailed from.
Fódlan was calling him.
“It seems this is goodbye, but we’ll never bid farewell to what we learned together.” The words flowed out of Byleth’s mouth without a second thought. He knew too, that this was the end.
Light engulfed him, stars of gold obscured his vision and he dissipated from existence. He could not bring himself to feel anything at that moment.
He swam against the flow of millennia and space-time. Flashes of scenes and memories rushed by, pressing on his body, blinding him with instances long gone and with might-have-beens. The sound in his ears was that of a roaring ocean drowning him.
Then, when he opened his eyes, he was at the foot of a cliff covered in dirt and mud. His clothes were soaked. He gasped for air, disbelieving the sudden predicament he found himself in.
“Hey,” a man interrupted. Byleth stood up, seeing a villager gaping at him. “Are you awake? We’re at a village at the base of the monastery. What are you doing in a place like this? I honestly didn’t expect to find someone floating away down the river. Garreg Mach is upstream from here, but that place is abandoned.”
Byleth blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t know? The Church of Seiros is gone,” he replied with surprise. “The Empire has taken over now. It’s been five years since…”
“What year is it?”
“Did you hit your head? It’s the Ethereal Moon of the year 1185.” He shook his head. “Tomorrow was supposed to be the millennium festival but there’s a war going on so—”
Byleth ran.
He ran and ran and thought it could not be.
But it was. He could see it in the rubble.
He sprinted to the Goddess Tower, remembering an old promise, and wondered who he would find there.