Chapter Text
There are a great deal of little inconveniences of life that Leif didn’t need to fret over as a non-corporeal Emblem. He had no need for food, water, sleep, or medicine. He could be whisked away to any location he’s needed in. He took up no physical space or weight beyond his ring. He didn’t even need to speak sometimes, able to communicate his thoughts directly to his ring-bearing partner in combat. On the other hand, being placed in a body is nice. He can enjoy eating with his friends. He can feel the heft of a new weapon in his own hands. He can choose a new set of clothing when it fancies him.
It also means that he has to physically run up the stairs of Lythos Castle, and by heaven and hell are there so many of them.
Leif makes it up to the entrance with Celica, both of them not quite out of breath (they have no breathing mechanism to speak of) but definitely drained. The urgency of their visit doesn’t help calm their nerves. The Lythos Castle guards who greet them seem rather flustered, and offer no helpful answers when asked about the letter Alear had sent them: a request to return as soon as possible due to good news, but no actual explanation as to what that news is.
“The Divine One and— The Divine One is in the gardens,” the guard hastily self-corrects, and Leif looks at Celica. She shrugs and shakes her head, just as lost as he is. The two of them had decided to spend a few months away from Lythos to clear their heads while having time to properly grieve Lumera’s death, and their trip to Elusia would have continued for longer had it not been for Alear’s message. At least it’s good news; Leif isn’t sure if he could handle anything else quite as dire as another death.
He can hear an animated conversation happening from the hallway as he approaches the terrace. From a distance Leif can make out Marth and Sigurd’s forms, watching a third person who holds a shimmering sword in his hands. The sword-wielder seems a little clumsy in their movements, but more noticeable than that is the fact that they seem to be engaged with an Emblem. That someone is Alear, he realizes; the glowing blue wings give away the dragon wielders easily.
“Is that—?” Leif mutters to himself in confusion, before being cut off with a shout of excitement.
“Leif! Celica!” Alear waves to them with his left hand, the sword held too low for Leif to examine it well enough to confirm his suspicions. The two say their hellos, and Alear grins happily, clearly bursting with anticipation.
“We came as soon as we received your letter,” Leif says.
“I’m glad that you did. I thought that you should know first.”
What a strange response. Leif tries his best not to let his confusion show, although the chuckles from Marth and Sigurd indicate that he’s failed.
“Oh, is it best if I...” Celica starts, but Sigurd waves off her concern.
“There is no need for you to excuse yourself. We would like you to see as well.”
“And all of Elyos, eventually, but we should keep this to just ourselves for now,” adds Alear. “One moment.”
Blue light surrounds Alear as he disengages, the sword and Emblem regalia disappearing from him. Instead, a golden necklace with a four-pointed pendant lays against Alear’s chest, hanging between the edges of his feathered pauldrons. Hovering behind him, looking out from behind his shoulder, is Seliph.
“ SELIPH? ”
Alear simply continues to grin as Seliph floats around him to approach Leif and Celica. Leif stares, utterly flabbergasted at what he’s seeing. Celica fares no better, with both hands over her mouth. She knows exactly who this is, after all, having seen a reflection of him within Sigurd and Leif’s dreams.
“Hello, cousin!” Seliph replies with a laugh. “I lack a physical form yet, but I hope you will accept my words in place of a proper embrace.”
“How could I not?” Leif asks, lifting his hands up regardless. Seliph’s ghostly hands float above his, unable to touch but sending pinpricks of Divine energy across Leif’s fabricated skin.
“Is this truly…” Celica says, at a loss for words. Leif steps back so that Seliph can greet her properly.
“My name is Seliph, son of Sigurd of Chalphy. I am the Emblem of Legacy, held within the Necklace of the Scion of Light. It is an honor to meet the allies of my family.” He bows to her, and she greets him likewise.
“Celica, Emblem of Echoes, of the Ring of the Caring Princess. I have heard so much about you from Leif and Sigurd.”
Seliph’s hand shyly goes to his neck.
“Ah, I hope it is all positive...”
“They have nothing but praise. Your father is very proud of you.”
Seliph’s bashfulness travels to Sigurd as well, who laughs into his hand.
“How did you find him?” Leif asks Alear, eyeing the pendant hanging from his neck.
“Oh! Um. We, er...”
“His necklace was in the Somniel pond, which Alear accidentally hooked while fishing,” Marth answers with a chuckle. “It is not a very grand discovery, I am afraid.”
“The Somniel pond? How strange.”
“The Bracelet of Rivals was laying in the grass on the overlook when we found it. Maybe there’s something about the Somniel that draws them in,” Alear says, thumbing at the jewel on Seliph’s Emblem necklace. “Oh! Seliph, should we show them your Emblem skill? I need to make a Fabrication, one moment…”
Alear kneels down by the dirt and slowly begins to mold a crude form out of Divine magic. The resulting Fabrication is a simple lance fighter. It walks to the other side of the garden, taking silent instruction from its creator to stand in position. Alear follows it so that the two are face to face, and the Necklace of the Scion of Light begins to glow faintly.
“Illuminate us, Emblem of Legacy!”
Leif has watched Emblems engaging with their users countless times, but something about this one isn’t quite the same. Perhaps it’s a difference born from the variations between worlds. The way the light envelops Alear looks more akin to ribbons wrapping him in a cocoon, and even the way the light fades away comes with a sense of bursting energy, like a butterfly emerging. Leif recognizes how Seliph’s clothing is mimicked in Alear’s engaged form. It’s silvery-gray all over, with black armor pieces that shine like polished hematite stones and sapphire-blue detailing along the edges. He would appear almost statuesque, if not for the ever-flapping wings. An iridescent silver sword in hand, Alear takes on a swordsman’s stance and stares down the Fabrication.
“For those I must protect,” Alear mutters to himself and takes off in a sprint. He closes the distance quickly, and his first strike crashes into the Fabrication’s lance with enough force to send it clattering across the stone tiles. Now weaponless and defenseless, the Fabrication curls in on itself to brace itself. The second strike comes quickly and with surgical precision, aiming for the gaps in the Fabrication’s armor; the sword sinks between two plates covering its shoulder, and Leif can’t help the way his eyes widen as he watches the Fabrication be disarmed in the most literal possible sense of the term.
The body is unable to keep its shape following such a critical injury. The arm hits the stone floor with a dull thud, and the entire Fabrication disintegrates into soil as it collapses to the ground. Alear eyes it grimly.
“That was a very simple Fabrication, so it had little ability to defend itself,” he explains. “I don’t imagine that a living or Corrupted opponent would be defeated so easily.”
“It is impressive, regardless,” Leif says. Seliph disengages and returns to floating by Alear’s side, still beaming with excitement.
“I am happy to find my strength has not waned despite my slumber. Perhaps time passes differently between this world and the world I originated from.”
“Did you come from another Elyos?” Celica asks, and Seliph’s smile slips off of his face to be replaced by troubled confusion.
“I believe so, but it is difficult to remember. I recall my mortal life with ease, but my time as an Emblem is... uncertain. It is as though I am viewing it through a shattered window with too many cracks. The Bracelet Emblems have offered their assistance as Emblems from another world, but my memory remains fragmented. Perhaps time will allow it to return in full.”
“We’re keeping an eye out for any news of other Emblems as well. Seliph can’t be the only one,” Alear adds.
“Marth?” Celica says suddenly. “Might I speak with you for a moment?”
Marth reacts with slight confusion, but Celica continues smiling.
“Of course.”
Leif shoots her a look, but she just nods her head in response which does nothing to explain anything. His attention is pulled away as Sigurd rises to his feet and offers to start a pot of tea for everyone, and he lets the Caring Princess and the Hero-King move along without further questioning.
“First Alear, and now Seliph. Sigurd seems to be amassing a collection of amnesiac children.”
“You speak as though he controls the forces which grant him such,” Marth says, and Celica laughs.
“I’m happy for him. Maybe this was exactly what he needed. With all of the loss in his mortal life and this one, reuniting with Seliph may bring him some peace.”
“Indeed.”
The two of them sit in an area of the gardens further away, tucked behind a series of flowering bushes. They can see Alear and the others from this distance, but cannot catch wind of each other’s conversations.
“Has he been alright?”
“He is grieving, but not quite as withdrawn as before. I am glad to have urged Alear to speak to him.”
Celica leans forward, her elbows on her knees and her chin resting on her balled-up hands.
“What about you, Marth? I hope you’re not jealous of a fellow swordsman Emblem.”
Marth lets out a genuine surprised laugh, not expecting a comment like that from Celica. She waits as he regains his composure, an amused little smile on her face.
“No more jealous than I am of Lucina for having taken my place in my absence during the war,” he chuckles. “Seliph is a very sweet boy. He seems quite intent on becoming good friends with Alear.”
“I wonder exactly where he came from. Does he have a home to return to, or someone looking for him?”
“I find it unlikely. Emblems protect the world for which they were created. For his necklace to have traveled here... perhaps there is no home left for him to protect.”
“He may have been sent here to prevent him from falling into the wrong hands.”
“And if so, someone or something may seek him out, eventually.”
Marth and Celica pause their conversation as they notice Alear approaching.
“Sigurd is making tea. Would the two of you join us?”
“Of course,” Marth replies, rising to his feet. Celica does as well, but she glances over Alear’s shoulder over to where Leif and Seliph are still talking. Seliph hovers rather close to his cousin, nothing particularly odd, but Celica files it away in her mind regardless.