Chapter 15: The Warrior's Path

Nobility and Nightfall - The Warrior's Path (Continuation Part 3)

Memories flashed through Lucina's mind as they soared above the Plegian landscape, the pegasus's powerful wings carrying them swiftly toward Ylisse. The Azure gemstone secured at her hip seemed to pulse with each beat of her heart, a constant reminder of their purpose.

Her thoughts drifted to that final, private conversation before their departure—a moment she had held close during their journey through the Midmire.

The royal chambers had been bathed in soft candlelight when Lucina answered her father's summons the night before leaving. She found Chrom and Sarai waiting, their expressions a mixture of solemnity and something else—something that looked almost like hope despite the looming war.

"You wanted to see me, Father?" Lucina had asked, noting how Sarai stood slightly behind Chrom, one hand resting protectively over her abdomen in a gesture Lucina recognized immediately.

Chrom nodded, exchanging a meaningful glance with Sarai before speaking. "Before you and Odyn depart on your mission, there's something we need to tell you. Something that changes... everything and nothing."

Sarai stepped forward then, her orange eyes bright in her dark elven features. "I'm with child, Lucina. We've known for some weeks now."

Though the news shouldn't have surprised her—Lucina knew her own birth date from her original timeline was approaching—the reality of it struck her deeply. This would be her, and yet not her—the Lucina of this timeline, born into a world already changed by her presence.

"That's... wonderful news," she managed, genuinely meaning it despite the strange complexity of emotions the announcement stirred.

"There's more," Chrom said gently. He moved to stand beside Sarai, placing his hand over hers where it rested on her stomach. "We've made a decision about the child's name. If it's a girl, as we believe it will be..."

"We will name her Lilina," Sarai finished, her melodic voice soft but firm. "Not Lucina."

The unexpected declaration left Lucina momentarily speechless. "But—"

"You are Lucina," Chrom said simply. "Our daughter. A princess of Ylisse. That name belongs to you alone in this timeline."

"This is your place now," Sarai added. "We wouldn't have you feel replaced or... duplicated. You've carved out your own destiny here, one separate from whatever fate awaited the child I now carry."

Tears formed in Lucina's eyes—tears she hadn't expected. For so long, she had considered herself a visitor in this timeline, a necessary anomaly fighting to prevent a doomed future. The gesture her father and stepmother now offered was profound in its implications: they were acknowledging her not as a time-displaced version of their child, but as her own person—as Lucina, rightful princess of Ylisse.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted, emotion tightening her throat.

"Say you'll return to us safely," Chrom replied, drawing her into an embrace. "To your family. All of us."

Sarai joined them, her slender arms encircling them both. "Your sister or brother will need their elder sibling to guide them."

"Lilina," Lucina repeated softly, testing the name on her tongue. "It's beautiful."

"A name with its own destiny," Sarai said. "Just as you have yours."

As they separated, Chrom's expression grew more serious. "With Sarai's condition, she'll remain in Ylisstol when we march to meet Valm. She'll coordinate defense from here, but won't take the field."

"A compromise I reluctantly accepted," Sarai added with a wry smile that didn't quite mask her frustration. "Though I argued that dark elven women have been fighting while carrying children for generations."

"And I countered that this particular child has quite enough time-travel complications without adding battlefield risks to the equation," Chrom replied with the easy tone of one who had engaged in this debate several times already.

"Take care of him," Sarai said to Lucina, her orange eyes intense. "Your father believes himself invincible sometimes."

"I'm familiar with the tendency," Lucina replied, sharing a knowing look with her stepmother that bridged any remaining distance between them.

Before she left the royal chambers that night, Lucina had turned back one last time. "Thank you," she said simply. "For... making a place for me."

"You made your own place," Chrom corrected gently. "We're merely acknowledging what already is."

The memory warmed her now, even as Cynthia's pegasus carried them through chill winds toward an uncertain reunion.

"There!" Cynthia called over her shoulder, pointing toward a column of smoke rising from the coastline below. "Our forces have fallen back to the secondary defensive line."

As they descended, the scale of the battle became clear. Ylissean and allied forces had indeed retreated from their initial positions, now holding a defensive perimeter around a series of hills that offered tactical advantage. The beach beyond was littered with the wreckage of ships and strange mechanical constructs—Valm's magical siege engines, Lucina presumed.

They landed within the Ylissean encampment, where grim-faced soldiers moved with purposeful urgency. Many bore wounds, and the healing tents overflowed with the injured. Cynthia led them directly to the command tent at the center of the camp.

"Cynthia's returned!" a scout announced as they approached. "With Princess Lucina and Sir Odyn!"

The tent flap was thrust aside, and Chrom emerged, his face haggard with exhaustion but lighting with relief at the sight of them. "Thank Naga," he breathed, embracing Lucina briefly before clasping Odyn's forearm in greeting. "Come inside quickly. Robin is formulating our counter-strategy."

The interior of the tent was crowded with familiar faces—Robin stood at the central table, maps spread before him as Frederick and Khanna flanked him protectively. Nearby, Libra tended to a wounded Tharja, his healing magic glowing softly as he worked. At the far end, Stahl and Olivia were distributing supplies to a group of messengers.

"We succeeded," Lucina said without preamble, producing the Azure gemstone from its pouch. "The first piece is secured."

Robin looked up, his expression brightening at the sight of the gleaming stone. "That may be the only good news we've had since this battle began." He gestured to the maps before him. "Valm's weapons are unlike anything we anticipated."

"Cynthia mentioned Grimleal influence," Odyn said, moving to examine the tactical displays.

"More than influence," Frederick stated grimly. "We captured one of their engineers. Under questioning, he revealed that Valm has formed an alliance with a faction of the Grimleal."

"Not Validar's people," Robin clarified, seeing Lucina's alarm. "A splinter group seeking to curry favor with Valm in exchange for power. But they've shared ancient Grimleal weapons designs—designs that combine mechanical innovation with fell magic."

"Where is Father?" Chrom asked, noticing his absence from the briefing.

"Coordinating with Xander and Miriel on a counter-measure," Robin replied. "They believe they've identified a weakness in the Valmese constructs, but need time to develop an effective response."

The mention of Xander piqued Lucina's interest. "Xander is here? I thought he remained in Albanahr with the reserve forces."

"He arrived three days ago with reinforcements," Chrom explained. "His relationship with Miriel has proven unexpectedly valuable—her theoretical knowledge combined with his practical experience in dark elven combat magic has yielded insights none of us anticipated."

"They make quite the pair," Frederick added with the faintest hint of amusement. "Though their conversations leave most of us entirely bewildered."

Before they could elaborate further, the tent flap opened again to admit Lon'qu and Sumia. The swordsman moved with a slight limp, while Sumia's left arm was bandaged, but both stood tall despite their injuries.

"The western flank is secured for now," Lon'qu reported tersely. "But they're bringing up more of those machines. We have perhaps two hours before they're in position."

"Miriel and Xander need more time," Chrom said, frustration evident in his voice. "Is there any way to delay them?"

"Perhaps," Odyn interjected, studying the map intently. "If we can adapt the enhancement discs we used in the Midmire..."

The strategy session continued with renewed vigor, Lucina and Odyn's arrival bringing fresh perspective and hope to the beleaguered command. As they worked, more Shepherds arrived—Roy supporting a limping Lissa, Donnel and Panne returning from reconnaissance, Nowi and Alek joining from aerial patrol.

"We should find Xander and Miriel," Lucina suggested to Odyn when there was finally a pause in the planning. "If they're developing a counter-measure, our experiences in the eastern islands might contribute."

Chrom nodded in agreement. "They've set up a workshop in the old lighthouse on the northern cliff. Stahl can guide you there."

As they prepared to depart, Chrom pulled Lucina aside briefly. "How goes your other mission?" he asked quietly, his eyes darting to the pouch where Azure now rested.

"One secured," she replied in equally hushed tones. "But Validar's people were there too. They know what we seek."

"Then our window narrows," Chrom said grimly. "If we survive this Valmese assault, your mission becomes even more critical."

"How is Sarai?" Lucina asked, unable to keep concern from her voice. "Have you had word from Ylisstol?"

A rare smile crossed Chrom's exhausted features. "A message arrived yesterday. She's well—insufferably frustrated at being kept from battle, but well. The city's defenses are prepared should Valm break through here."

"And Lilina?" The name still felt strange on Lucina's tongue, yet somehow right.

"Growing stronger each day, according to the healers," Chrom replied, his pride evident. "Sarai swears she can feel her practicing sword techniques already."

The thought brought a smile to Lucina's face despite the dire circumstances. "Keep them safe, Father."

"Always," he promised. "Now go. Help Xander and Miriel finish their work. We'll need every advantage if we're to push Valm back."

The old lighthouse stood on a windswept cliff overlooking the battlefield, its upper chamber transformed into an impromptu laboratory. As Stahl led them up the winding stairs, the sounds of intense debate drifted down to meet them.

"The crystalline matrix cannot sustain that level of counter-resonance," came a precise, methodical female voice that Lucina recognized as Miriel's. "The differential would cause cascade failure within seconds."

"Not if we integrate the calibration sequence I demonstrated," replied a deeper voice with the distinctive accent of Albanahr's nobility. "The dark elven runic stabilizers allow for temporary structural integrity even under extreme magical pressure."

They entered to find the chamber in organized chaos. Workbenches covered with strange devices and half-finished constructs lined the walls. At the center, Miriel and Xander stood on opposite sides of a large circular diagram etched into the stone floor, gesturing as they debated.

Xander stood tall and imposing, his silver-white hair contrasting sharply with his dark skin and pointed ears. Like all dark elven vanguard, he carried himself with military precision, though his traditional armor now bore additional components clearly designed by Miriel—crystalline attachments and delicate instrumentation that somehow enhanced rather than detracted from his commanding presence.

Miriel looked much as Lucina remembered—her spectacles perched firmly on her nose, her expression one of intense concentration as she adjusted calculations on a massive scroll. What was new, however, was the subtle way she and Xander moved in tandem despite their apparent disagreement—two minds perfectly synchronized in purpose if not always in method.

"Stahl," Miriel acknowledged without looking up. "Your return is timely. We require additional field measurements from the eastern—" She paused, finally noticing Lucina and Odyn. "Ah. The time-travelers have rejoined us. Your presence introduces variables we had not factored into our current equations."

"That may be precisely what we need," Xander said, turning to face them fully. His orange eyes—characteristic of his people—assessed them with keen intelligence. "Our counter-measure lacks stability. Perhaps your experiences in the eastern islands offer insights we have overlooked."

Odyn stepped forward, immediately drawn to the complex diagram on the floor. "A nullification matrix? Similar to what we encountered in the temple of Naga, though inversely configured."

"Indeed," Miriel confirmed, adjusting her spectacles. "Designed to disrupt the fell magic that powers Valm's siege engines while leaving conventional magic unaffected."

"But the disruption radius is insufficient," Xander added, his frustration evident. "And the power requirements exceed our current capabilities."

Lucina watched as Odyn crouched to examine the diagram more closely, then reached for the enhancement discs they had used in their journey. "These might help. We designed them to manipulate magical fields on a local scale, but the principles could be expanded."

As the three magic-users fell into intense technical discussion, Lucina turned to Stahl. "How bad was it? The initial assault?"

The reliable cavalier's expression grew somber. "Worse than anything we've faced before. Their weapons... they don't just destroy fortifications or soldiers. They corrupt. Wounds that won't heal, ground that turns poisonous." He shook his head. "Olivia and I were defending the southern approach when the first wave hit. If Lon'qu and Sumia hadn't arrived when they did..."

"And the others? Everyone I saw in the command tent seemed injured."

"Some worse than others," Stahl confirmed. "Tharja took a direct hit protecting Libra—she'll recover, but it was close. Gaius and Hailfire are leading hit-and-run attacks to slow Valm's advance, but Hailfire took a bad cut to her shoulder yesterday. Saibyrh and Vaike are holding the western ridge with what's left of the third division."

"Nowi and Alek seemed unharmed," Lucina observed.

"They've been our most effective air response," Stahl explained. "Nowi's dragon form can withstand the corrupting effects better than most, and Alek's shielding magic protects them both. But they can't be everywhere at once."

Their conversation was interrupted by an exclamation from Odyn. "That's it!"

The three magic-users were now hunched over a workbench, the enhancement discs disassembled as Xander rapidly sketched modifications to Miriel's designs.

"The integration of your localized field manipulators with our broad-spectrum nullification matrix creates a scalable solution," Miriel stated, excitement breaking through her typically measured tone. "If we place these modified discs at strategic points around the battlefield..."

"We can create a web of counter-resonance," Xander completed her thought. "Rendering their fell-powered weapons inert within our operational area."

"How quickly can you reproduce these modifications?" Lucina asked, hope stirring for the first time since their return.

"With adequate assistance, approximately four hours," Miriel calculated.

"Too long," Stahl said grimly. "Valm will be in position to launch their next assault in two."

"Then we buy you time," Lucina decided. "Odyn, stay here and help them complete the modifications. I'll return to camp and organize a delaying action."

"I should be with you," Odyn protested.

"You're needed here," she countered firmly. "Your understanding of the discs is crucial to their success."

Their eyes met in silent communication—concern, resolve, and ultimately trust passing between them. "Two hours," Odyn said finally. "Not a minute more."

"Two hours," she agreed. Turning to Stahl, she added, "Let's go. We have a defense to organize."

The impromptu war council assembled quickly—Chrom, Robin, Frederick, and the available Shepherds gathering to hear Lucina's report on the counter-measure being developed.

"Two hours," Robin mused, studying the battle map. "We can give them that, but the cost will be high."

"We need targeted disruption," Chrom said. "Hit-and-run attacks focusing on their siege engines rather than their regular forces."

"Gaius and Hailfire have been effective with those tactics," Frederick noted. "But Hailfire's injury limits their range."

"What about Valvaderhn?" Lucina asked. "Has there been any word from the Red Knight?"

"He and Maribelle remain at the eastern garrison," Chrom replied. "Too far to reach us in time."

"Then we work with what we have," Lucina said decisively. She leaned over the map, Falchion's weight at her hip a reminder of what they fought for. "Three strike teams. One from the north, led by Lon'qu and Sumia. One from the west—Panne and Donnel's tracking skills will be valuable there. And one from the south..."

"I'll lead that one," came a voice from the tent entrance. They turned to find Sully standing there, her armor dented but her expression fierce. "Been waiting for a chance to take the fight to these dastards."

"Sully," Chrom acknowledged with evident relief. "I thought you were with the reserves."

"Was," she confirmed with a grim smile. "Until I got bored of waiting. Brought fifty of our best with me too. They're preparing now."

With Sully's unexpected reinforcements, the plan took shape quickly. Three strike teams would target the Valmese siege engines, delaying their deployment while the rest of their forces maintained the defensive line. If they could hold for two hours, Miriel, Xander, and Odyn's counter-measure would neutralize the fell-powered weapons entirely.

As the council dispersed to prepare, Lucina found herself approached by Nowi, whose youthful appearance belied the ancient wisdom in her eyes.

"Alek and I will provide air support for all three teams," the manakete said. "We'll concentrate on whichever group faces the heaviest resistance."

"Thank you," Lucina replied sincerely. "Your dragon form may be our greatest asset against their corrupted magic."

Nowi's expression grew uncharacteristically serious. "It's not just for the battle, you know. It's for what comes after." She glanced toward where Alek stood conferring with Frederick. "For the future we're all trying to build."

"I understand," Lucina assured her, thinking of Lilina—the sister she would now have in this timeline. "More than you know."

As they prepared for battle, Lucina took a moment to touch the pouch where Azure rested. One piece secured, four still to find. But first, they had to survive the day. Had to secure a kingdom worth saving when the final confrontation with Grima eventually came.

The azure stone pulsed gently against her fingers, as if in understanding. A reminder that even in the darkest moments, hope remained—not just in ancient artifacts or divine weapons, but in the bonds that connected them all. In the family she had found, lost, and found again across the boundaries of time itself.

"For Ylisse," she whispered, drawing Falchion from its sheath. The blade gleamed in the afternoon sun, ready for the battle ahead. "For the future."

The battlefield erupted into controlled chaos as the three strike teams moved into position. Lucina stood with Chrom and Robin at the command post, watching as colored signal flares arced into the sky—green from the north as Lon'qu and Sumia's team engaged, blue from the west where Panne and Donnel had located a concentration of enemy siege engines, and finally red from the south, indicating Sully's forces had encountered significant resistance.

"Nowi and Alek are responding to Sully's signal," Frederick reported, lowering a spyglass. "The Valmese have committed heavy forces to protect their southern battery."

"As expected," Robin nodded, marking the positions on his tactical map. "Their most powerful weapons are concentrated there. If Sully can keep them occupied..."

"She'll do more than that," Chrom said with grim confidence. "Knowing Sully, she's already planning how to destroy them, not just delay."

Lucina studied the battlefield with growing concern. Even from this distance, she could see the corruption spreading where Valmese weapons had struck—patches of land withering into twisted, blackened terrain, releasing sickly purple mist that soldiers avoided at all costs.

"How much longer?" she asked, her fingers tightening around Falchion's hilt.

Robin checked the timepiece at his belt. "One hour and twenty minutes until Miriel's counter-measure is ready. We need to hold them that long."

A messenger approached at a sprint, his armor bearing the insignia of Khanna's scouts. "Captain! Valmese reinforcements approaching from the east—at least two companies with three more of those mechanical constructs."

"Eastern flank wasn't supposed to see action for another hour," Frederick said, frowning deeply. "Our defenses there are minimal."

Chrom's expression hardened. "If they break through there, they'll have a direct path to the lighthouse."

"I'll go," Lucina decided immediately. "We can't risk losing Miriel and the others before they complete their work."

"Not alone," Robin cautioned. "Take Roy and Lissa—her healing will be crucial if the corruption spreads to that area."

Chrom looked as if he might object, but after a moment's hesitation, he simply nodded. "Go. We'll maintain coordination from here and send reinforcements when we can spare them."

As Lucina turned to leave, her father caught her arm briefly. "The future may have changed," he said quietly, "but some things remain constant. Be careful."

"Always," she promised with the hint of a smile before hurrying toward the eastern encampment.

Roy and Lissa were ready within minutes, the princess's usual cheerful demeanor tempered by the gravity of their situation but not extinguished. Despite her injury—a bandaged leg that slowed her movements—she insisted on joining the defense.

"This staff isn't just for show," she declared, brandishing her healing implement with determination. "Besides, somebody has to keep you two from doing anything recklessly heroic."

"Us? Reckless?" Roy replied with mock innocence that failed to mask the tension in his voice. "I'm offended by the implication."

As they made their way to the eastern ridge, Lucina found herself studying her uncle—in this timeline, hardly older than she was. His red hair and easy smile belied the skilled swordsman he had become since joining the Shepherds. The sword at his hip was not legendary like Falchion, but in Roy's hands, it had proven deadly enough.

"Father says you've been training with Frederick," she remarked as they climbed the steep path that would give them a vantage point over the approaching Valmese forces.

Roy grimaced. "Frederick's idea of 'training' makes facing these Valmese war machines seem almost appealing by comparison." Despite his complaint, there was unmistakable pride in his voice. "But I won't deny it's been effective. Last month, I finally managed to land a hit on him during sparring."

"Only took you two years," Lissa teased, her breathing slightly labored as they ascended.

"Two years and three months, thank you very much," Roy corrected with a grin.

Their banter ceased as they reached the ridge top, where a small contingent of Ylissean soldiers maintained watch. The eastern valley below revealed exactly what the scout had reported—Valmese forces advancing steadily, centered around three massive mechanical constructs that seemed to pulse with unnatural energy.

"Captain Osric," Lucina addressed the officer in charge. "What forces do we have available?"

The weathered veteran saluted sharply. "Twenty archers, fifteen infantry, and five cavalry, Your Highness. Not enough to stop that," he added grimly, gesturing toward the approaching army.

"We don't need to stop them," Lucina clarified. "Only delay them long enough for our counter-measure to be deployed. How familiar are your troops with hit-and-run tactics?"

A ghost of a smile crossed the captain's face. "My men were handpicked by Sir Frederick, milady. They've trained for precisely such situations."

"Good. Have your archers target the operators of those machines—aim for visibility ports and control mechanisms." Lucina drew Falchion, its blade catching the late afternoon sun. "Infantry will harass their flanks, draw attention away from the machines themselves. Cavalry should remain in reserve for extraction if needed."

As Captain Osric moved to relay her orders, Roy stepped beside her at the ridge's edge. "Those constructs," he said quietly. "They're different from the ones we faced earlier. Look at the sigils etched into their hulls."

Lucina narrowed her eyes, studying the approaching war machines more carefully. Roy was right—instead of the uniform construction of previous Valmese weapons, these bore elaborate magical symbols pulsing with fell energy.

"Prototypes," she realized with growing alarm. "Possibly more advanced than what we've faced before."

"Or more unstable," Lissa suggested, joining them. "Those runes are sloppily done—nothing like the precision Miriel would demand."

Before they could discuss further, a crackling sound split the air as one of the Valmese constructs fired. A bolt of corrupted energy struck the hillside below their position, transforming a swath of grass and earth into twisted, blackened matter that emanated sickly purple mist.

"They're ranging their weapons," Captain Osric warned, returning to their side. "Another few minutes and they'll have our position targeted."

"Then we move now," Lucina decided. "Before they establish firing solutions." She turned to Roy and Lissa. "Stay close to each other. If either of you comes into contact with the corruption, retreat immediately."

"What about you?" Lissa asked, concern evident in her voice.

Lucina's hand tightened around Falchion's hilt. "Falchion offers some protection. I've noticed in previous engagements it seems resistant to the corrupting effect."

With a final nod to Captain Osric, she led the Ylissean forces down the eastern slope to meet the Valmese advance. Archers moved into hidden positions among the rocks, while infantry spread out in small groups designed to appear more numerous than they actually were.

As they closed to engagement distance, Lucina raised Falchion high—the signal to begin the attack. Arrows rained down on the Valmese operators, forcing them to take cover and disrupting their targeting. Simultaneously, infantry groups darted forward to engage the enemy's front lines before retreating, drawing pursuit into prepared ambush positions.

Lucina moved with precise efficiency, targeting officers and mages who seemed to be coordinating the war machines' deployment. Roy fought at her flank, his swordplay less powerful than Chrom's but remarkably swift and unpredictable. Together, they carved through a squad of Valmese soldiers attempting to establish a defensive perimeter around the leftmost construct.

"There!" Roy shouted over the clash of battle, pointing to a figure in elaborate robes directing operations from behind the war machine. "That must be their mage-commander!"

Lucina recognized the distinctive markings on the robes immediately—a splinter faction of the Grimleal, as Frederick had reported. "Cover me," she called to Roy before darting forward, using the confusion of battle to approach the command position.

The Grimleal mage noticed her too late, already raising hands crackling with fell magic when Falchion's blade separated his head from his shoulders. As he fell, Lucina seized the opportunity to examine the war machine up close.

Its construction was even more disturbing than she had initially perceived—a grotesque amalgamation of mechanical engineering and organic components that pulsed with unnatural life. Veins of dark energy ran through metal plates, converging at a central crystal that glowed with malevolent purpose.

"Lucina, behind you!" Roy's warning came just in time.

She spun, Falchion rising to block a strike from a Valmese officer. Their blades locked momentarily before Lucina disengaged, stepping back to reassess her opponent. The officer moved with unusual speed, his armor bearing insignia indicating high rank within the Valmese military structure.

"Princess Lucina," he acknowledged, surprising her with his recognition. "Your reputation precedes you, even across the sea."

"You have me at a disadvantage," she replied coolly, circling to position herself between the officer and the war machine.

The man smiled thinly. "General Cervantes, humble servant of Emperor Walhart. Though I suspect introductions matter little, as one of us will not survive this encounter."

"You're right about that," she affirmed, then lunged forward.

Their duel was brief but intense—Cervantes fought with precision born of decades of military experience, while Lucina countered with the desperate skill of one who had survived an apocalyptic future. Falchion's edge eventually found its mark, slipping between plates in the general's armor to pierce his heart.

As Cervantes fell, Lucina turned her attention back to the war machine. With its operators and commander dead, the construct had ceased its advance but continued to pulse with unstable energy. The central crystal flared with increasing brightness—a warning sign she recognized from previous encounters.

"It's going to detonate!" she shouted, backing away rapidly. "Everyone, fall back!"

The warning came just in time. Ylissean forces retreated to safe positions as the leftmost war machine imploded with devastating force, the corruption within released in a concentrated blast that consumed nearby Valmese soldiers. When the sickly light faded, nothing remained where the machine had stood but a blackened crater exuding miasmic energy.

"One down," Roy noted as he rejoined her, his sword bloody but his expression grimly satisfied. "But we've still got two more to deal with."

Lucina checked her timepiece. "Forty-five minutes until the counter-measure is ready. We need to—"

Her words were interrupted by a piercing scream from behind them. Turning, she saw Lissa kneeling beside a wounded soldier, her healing staff working frantically to close a wound that seemed to resist her magic. More alarmingly, tendrils of corruption were spreading from the injury up the soldier's arm despite Lissa's efforts.

"It's not working!" the princess called, desperation in her voice. "The corruption is spreading too fast!"

Without hesitation, Lucina rushed to her side, drawing the knife from her belt. "Hold him steady," she instructed grimly.

Understanding immediately, Lissa nodded and positioned herself to brace the soldier. With a swift, precise strike, Lucina amputated the infected arm at the shoulder. The soldier's scream cut through the battlefield before he mercifully lost consciousness.

"Get him to the medical tent," Lucina ordered the nearby soldiers. "Quick cauterization and clean bandages—the corruption should not spread further now."

As the wounded man was carried away, Lissa looked up at her with an expression that mingled horror and grudging acceptance. "This is what we're facing, isn't it? What your future was like."

"This is nothing compared to what Grima brought," Lucina replied quietly. "But yes... this corruption, this merging of mechanical innovation with fell magic—it's reminiscent of the horrors I grew up fighting."

Lissa's expression hardened with determination. "Then we stop it here. Before it can grow into the nightmare you escaped."

A horn blast from the ridge drew their attention. Captain Osric was signaling urgently, pointing toward the southern battlefield. Following his gesture, Lucina saw what had prompted his alarm—the signal flares from Sully's position had changed from red to black.

"They're being overrun," Roy realized. "Should we—"

"No," Lucina cut him off, though the decision pained her. "We hold here. If these war machines reach the lighthouse, all is lost. Nowi and Alek will assist Sully." She silently prayed her assessment was correct.

Regrouping their forces, they prepared to engage the remaining two constructs. The Valmese had adjusted their strategy, keeping their war machines farther back while infantry advanced to clear resistance. This more cautious approach would delay their advance—exactly what Lucina needed.

"Captain Osric," she called, "have your archers target the supply wagons behind their lines. If we can ignite their munitions..."

The captain nodded in understanding, redirecting his archers to the new targets. Within minutes, several wagons erupted in flames, causing confusion in the Valmese ranks and forcing them to deal with the spreading fire.

"Thirty minutes," Roy noted, checking his timepiece. "Think we can hold them that long?"

Lucina surveyed the battlefield with a tactician's eye—a skill learned from Robin across two lifetimes. "If we use the terrain to our advantage and continue disrupting their formations rather than engaging directly, yes."

A sudden gust of wind announced the arrival of an aerial unit. Looking up, Lucina expected to see Nowi and Alek, but instead found Cynthia diving toward their position, her pegasus skillfully navigating the updrafts from the valley.

"Lucina!" Cynthia called as she landed nearby. "Urgent message from Robin. The southern flank is holding but badly damaged. Sully is wounded but fighting. More importantly, our scouts have detected unusual movement behind Valmese lines—they believe Valm's commanding general is personally leading a force around our eastern defenses to target the lighthouse directly."

"They know," Lucina realized with dismay. "They've identified the counter-measure as their primary threat."

"Robin says to hold your position," Cynthia continued. "Frederick is leading reinforcements to intercept the flanking force."

"Frederick won't reach them in time," Lucina calculated quickly. "Not with the terrain they'd need to cross." She made her decision. "Roy, you and Lissa continue coordinating our defense here with Captain Osric. Cynthia and I will intercept the flanking force."

Roy looked as if he might protest, but nodded instead. "Be careful. If their commanding general is leading personally..."

"All the more reason to stop them," Lucina replied grimly. Turning to Cynthia, she added, "Can your pegasus carry both of us?"

"Snowdrop can handle it," Cynthia confirmed, patting her mount's neck affectionately. "She's the strongest pegasus in the Ylissean stables."

Mounting behind Cynthia, Lucina took one last look at the battlefield below. "Twenty-five minutes," she reminded Roy. "Hold them that long."

"We will," he promised. "Now go save our magic-users before they blow themselves up trying to save us."

As Snowdrop launched into the air, Lucina directed Cynthia toward the ridge line where the Valmese flanking force would most likely be advancing. From this height, she could see the full scope of the battle—Sully's forces indeed holding in the south despite heavy losses, the western approach where Panne and Donnel had successfully disrupted Valmese operations, and the northern ridge where Lon'qu and Sumia's team engaged in hit-and-run attacks.

"There!" she pointed, spotting movement in a narrow pass that wound between two hills toward the lighthouse. "That's them—moving fast and light. Thirty soldiers at most, but elite by the look of their armor."

"And that must be their general," Cynthia observed, indicating a heavily armored figure at the center of the formation. "The one with the cape."

Lucina studied their target as they drew closer. Unlike most of the Valmese forces they'd encountered, this unit moved with disciplined precision, maintaining perfect formation despite the difficult terrain. At their center rode a commanding figure whose armor gleamed crimson in the late afternoon sun—a stark contrast to the traditional green of Valmese military.

"Take us down ahead of them," Lucina instructed. "That narrow point in the pass. We can bottleneck them there until Frederick arrives."

Cynthia guided Snowdrop into a steep dive, landing precisely at the location Lucina had indicated. As they dismounted, the pegasus knight produced a signal horn from her saddlebag.

"Three short blasts," she explained, sounding the pattern. "Tells Frederick exactly where we are."

Lucina drew Falchion, its blade gleaming with an inner light that seemed to intensify in the presence of the approaching threat. "How long until they reach us?"

"Five minutes, maybe less," Cynthia estimated, drawing her own lance. "Just the two of us against thirty elite soldiers and their general. Reminds me of that time in your future when we faced that horde of Risen at the Breakneck Pass."

Despite the gravity of their situation, Lucina felt a smile tug at her lips. "As I recall, you tripped over your own lance and nearly impaled yourself before the battle even began."

"Details, details," Cynthia waved dismissively, though her eyes sparkled with shared memory. "The important part is that we won."

"That we did," Lucina acknowledged. Her expression grew serious again as she added, "Cynthia, if this goes poorly—"

"It won't," her friend interrupted firmly. "Because we're the heroes, and heroes always triumph in the end."

Before Lucina could respond, the ground beneath their feet trembled slightly—a rhythmic vibration that heralded the approach of armored soldiers. Moments later, the Valmese vanguard rounded the bend in the pass, pulling up short at the sight of the two women blocking their path.

An officer at the front raised his hand, signaling the formation to halt. "Stand aside," he called in accented Ylissean. "You face the Crimson Company, personal guard of Supreme General Agnetta. Resistance is futile."

"Resistance," Lucina replied, raising Falchion before her, "is precisely why we're here."

The formation parted to allow a figure to ride forward—the red-armored general Cynthia had spotted from above. As the general approached, Lucina was surprised to see the face revealed beneath the raised visor was that of a woman, perhaps a decade older than herself, with sharp features and calculating eyes.

"Princess Lucina," the general acknowledged with unexpected courtesy. "Your reputation precedes you. I am Agnetta, Supreme General of Valm's Expeditionary Force."

"You seem well-informed about your opposition, General," Lucina replied cautiously.

Agnetta smiled thinly. "Knowledge is as valuable a weapon as any sword. For instance, I know you are delaying us while your mages complete a counter-measure to our siege engines. I know you recovered the Azure gemstone from the eastern islands. And I know that, despite your skill, you cannot possibly defeat my entire company alone."

"She's not alone," Cynthia declared, stepping forward with her lance ready. "And Frederick's forces will be here any minute."

"Frederick's forces," Agnetta countered smoothly, "are currently engaged with a decoy unit I dispatched precisely to prevent their interference. No reinforcements will arrive in time to save you—or your counter-measure."

Lucina's mind raced, reassessing their situation. If Agnetta spoke truly, they stood alone against impossible odds. Yet something in the general's manner—the fact that she bothered to parley at all—suggested an opening.

"If you're so confident in your victory," Lucina challenged, "why waste time talking? Why not simply order your soldiers to overwhelm us?"

Something flickered in Agnetta's expression—respect, perhaps, or curiosity. "Because unnecessary casualties serve neither Valm nor Ylisse. I offer you a chance to surrender honorably. Lay down your weapons, and I guarantee your safety as prisoners of war."

"And what of the lighthouse? Of our companions working there?"

"Their research will be confiscated, of course. But they too will be treated according to the conventions of warfare."

Lucina glanced at her timepiece. Twenty minutes remained until the counter-measure would be ready. If she could keep Agnetta talking even a little longer...

"You speak of honor," she noted, "yet your weapons corrupt the very land they touch. There is nothing honorable about the fell magic you've incorporated into your arsenal."

Agnetta's expression hardened. "Necessity, Princess. Valm faces threats beyond your understanding—threats that require power beyond conventional means. The alliance with certain Grimleal factions was... regrettable but necessary."

"I understand more than you know," Lucina replied, a edge entering her voice. "I've seen the ultimate consequences of embracing such power. It leads only to destruction."

For a moment, genuine curiosity seemed to overtake Agnetta's martial demeanor. "You speak as if from experience, yet you are hardly more than twenty years of age."

"Time is more complicated than you might believe, General."

A horn blast from further down the pass interrupted their conversation—three long notes that Lucina didn't recognize. Agnetta, however, clearly did. The general's expression shifted to one of grim determination.

"It seems circumstances have changed," she said, lowering her visor. "My vanguard reports your father has broken through our center. The time for talk is over." She raised her hand to signal her troops. "Take them alive if possible, but do not allow them to delay us further."

As the Crimson Company advanced, Lucina and Cynthia backed toward a narrower section of the pass where they could better limit the number of opponents who could engage them simultaneously.

"Fifteen minutes," Lucina muttered. "We just need to hold them fifteen minutes."

"Heroes always triumph," Cynthia repeated, though her voice carried less conviction now.

The first wave of Valmese soldiers crashed against their defense like a tide against a cliff. Falchion sang as Lucina parried, counterattacked, and struck with the precision born of desperate survival. Beside her, Cynthia fought with unexpected discipline, her usual exuberance channeled into efficient strikes that kept their opponents at bay.

For precious minutes, they held the narrow pass, bodies of fallen Valmese soldiers creating an additional barrier that further restricted the advance. But attrition was inevitable—a glancing blow caught Lucina's shoulder, another sliced across her thigh. Cynthia took a hit to her side that left her gasping but still fighting.

"Ten minutes," Lucina called, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she blocked another strike.

Agnetta watched from horseback, her tactical assessment evident in her calculating gaze. With a gesture, she ordered her soldiers to fall back slightly. "Impressive," she acknowledged. "But futile. Archers!"

A line of bowmen formed behind the front ranks, nocking arrows aimed not at Lucina and Cynthia, but over their heads—toward the lighthouse visible on the cliff above.

"Surrender," Agnetta demanded, "or we target your mages directly."

Lucina hesitated, caught in an impossible dilemma. If they surrendered, the counter-measure would never be deployed. If they continued fighting, Odyn and the others might be killed by arrow fire before completing their work.

The decision was taken from her as a deafening roar split the air above them. A massive shadow passed overhead—Nowi in her dragon form, with Alek visible on her back, his hands raised in a complex magical gesture. A shimmering barrier materialized around the lighthouse just as the Valmese archers released their volley.

"Eight minutes!" Cynthia shouted with renewed hope.

Agnetta's response was immediate and ruthless. "All forces, advance! Overwhelm them!"

The full might of the Crimson Company surged forward, no longer constrained by the narrowness of the pass as they spread out to encircle the two defenders. Lucina and Cynthia fought back-to-back, each wound slowing their movements as exhaustion took its toll.

"Five minutes," Lucina gasped, parrying a thrust that would have impaled her.

"We can do this," Cynthia insisted, her lance keeping three opponents at bay through sheer determination.

The circle tightened around them. Agnetta dismounted, drawing a serrated blade that pulsed with unnatural energy. "Enough of this," the general declared, striding forward to engage Lucina personally.

Their blades met with a shower of sparks—fell magic against blessed steel. Agnetta fought with methodical precision, each strike calculated to exploit Lucina's growing fatigue. Falchion, however, seemed to resist the corrupting influence of the general's weapon, its glow intensifying with each contact.

"Three minutes," Lucina whispered to herself as she ducked beneath a horizontal slash.

A cry of pain from behind told her Cynthia had taken another hit. Glancing back, she saw her friend drop to one knee, still fighting but clearly reaching her limit. The moment of distraction cost her—Agnetta's blade slipped past her guard, slicing across her ribs in a burning line of pain.

"Two minutes," she gasped, stumbling backward.

Agnetta pressed her advantage, forcing Lucina to retreat step by step. "Your determination is admirable," the general acknowledged, "but this ends now."

A final, powerful blow knocked Falchion aside, leaving Lucina defenseless as Agnetta raised her blade for the killing strike.

The azure glow from Odyn's forehead cast eerie shadows across the battlefield as he stood between Lucina and Agnetta, the Valmese general's blade halted mid-strike against his suddenly impenetrable guard. The shock on Agnetta's face betrayed her recognition of the ancient power.

"Dragon Crest," she whispered, her voice a mixture of awe and disdain. "So the rumors were true. Some of your kind still live."

Odyn's normally calm demeanor had transformed. His eyes blazed with the same azure light that emanated from the crest on his forehead, and when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of generations of suffering.

"Your conqueror thought he had extinguished our light from this world," Odyn said, pushing back against Agnetta's blade with newfound strength. "He was wrong."

With a swift movement that seemed impossible moments before, Odyn disarmed the Valmese general, sending her ornate sword spinning through the air. The battlefield around them grew quiet as soldiers on both sides paused to witness the confrontation.

Lucina scrambled for her fallen Falchion, her eyes never leaving Odyn. She had traveled with the dark elf for months now, yet he had never revealed this power, nor spoken much of his homeland's destruction.

Agnetta retreated several steps, her tactical mind clearly reassessing the situation. "One elf with an ancient trick cannot turn the tide of this war," she spat. "Walhart crushed your kingdom in a fortnight. What hope do you have now?"

Odyn advanced, each step leaving a faint trace of azure light in the mud. "Hope? We survived. We waited. And now—" he gestured to the Ylissean forces rallying behind him, "—we have allies with as much reason to see Walhart fall as we do."

The general's eyes narrowed. "You align yourself with these humans? The same species that stood by while your forests burned?"

Lucina stepped forward, Falchion now firmly in her grip. "Not all humans are the same, just as I now see not all elves are as they appear in our histories."

Odyn nodded appreciatively at Lucina, though his breathing had become labored. The Dragon Crest's glow pulsed, each flash seemingly tied to the growing tremors in his limbs. The price of the power was beginning to manifest.

"You should retreat while you can, General," Odyn warned Agnetta. "When word spreads that the surviving dark elves have joined Prince Chrom's forces, your emperor will face an enemy he thought he had eliminated."

Agnetta's face hardened. "This changes nothing. Walhart will—"

Her words were cut short as Odyn unleashed a burst of concentrated magic, the azure energy forming a perfect arc that crashed into the ground at her feet. It wasn't meant to kill—only to demonstrate that it could.

"Next time," Odyn said, his voice now strained with pain, "I won't miss."

The Valmese forces began a coordinated withdrawal, collecting their wounded as they retreated. Victory, for now, belonged to Chrom's army.

As soon as the enemy was at a safe distance, Odyn collapsed to one knee, the brilliant crest on his forehead flickering like a dying flame. His body convulsed with spasms of pain that he had been suppressing through sheer will.

Lucina rushed to his side. "You saved my life," she said, helping to steady him. "Why didn't you tell us about this power before?"

Through gritted teeth, Odyn managed a grim smile. "The Dragon Crest is both blessing and curse. It marks us as descendants of those who received the dragons' favor, but using it..." He winced as another wave of pain washed over him. "Using it reminds us why our ancestors accepted such a double-edged gift."

Frederick and the other Shepherds approached cautiously, many eyeing the dark elf with newfound respect and curiosity.

"There are others," Odyn continued, his voice weakening. "Scattered across the continents. Hiding. Surviving. Waiting for the day when the call would come to stand against Walhart once more."

"And that day has come," Chrom declared, joining them. "Your people's strength would be a valuable addition to our cause."

Odyn nodded weakly before the last of his strength gave out, and he collapsed fully into Lucina's arms, the crest now completely faded from his brow.

"He needs rest," Lucina told her father. "And when he wakes, I think it's time we learned the full story of Albanahr's fall—and what it might mean for our campaign against Valm."

As they carried the unconscious elf back to camp, Lucina couldn't help but wonder what other secrets her enigmatic companion might be keeping—and what other ancient powers might yet be awakened in the war to come.

After returning to camp, Chrom and the others left Lucina and Odyn alone knowing they needed some privacy. It was an open secret that Odyn and Lucina had strong romantic feelings for each other, this just confirmed what the others knew... it would only be a matter of time until they both confessed to each other, this battle just enforced their feelings for each other.

As the tent flap closed behind Chrom and the others, a heavy silence settled between Lucina and Odyn. The dark elf lay on a makeshift cot, his breathing now steady but his body still occasionally trembling with aftershocks of pain. The medical supplies Lissa had left behind remained largely untouched on a small wooden table—there was little conventional medicine could do for the Dragon Crest's aftermath.

Lucina sat beside him, her fingers absently tracing the edge of her cape. The usual composure she maintained as a leader had given way to something more vulnerable. She watched the gentle rise and fall of Odyn's chest, her mind replaying the moment he had stepped between her and certain death.

"You shouldn't have done that," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Odyn's eyes fluttered open, their usual vibrant amber now dulled with exhaustion. "I would do it again without hesitation."

"You could have died." Lucina's words carried an edge of anger, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her true feelings.

"And you certainly would have," he countered, attempting to shift to a more upright position before wincing and abandoning the effort. "Agnetta is known for never leaving opponents alive."

Lucina reached out instinctively, helping to adjust his pillow before she caught herself and withdrew her hand as if burned. "You've known about her? About the Valmese generals?"

"I've tracked Walhart's commanders for years," Odyn admitted, his gaze drifting to the tent ceiling. "Waiting for the right moment, the right allies..."

"Were you ever going to tell me? About your past, about your power?" There was hurt in her question—hurt that went beyond mere battlefield strategy or hidden abilities.

Odyn was quiet for a long moment. "I feared what you might think. Humans have... complicated views on powers inherited from dragons."

Lucina's hand unconsciously moved to Falchion at her side. "My own blood carries Naga's blessing. I of all people should understand."

Their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them—recognition of the burden they both carried, legacies neither had chosen but both had accepted.

"I was afraid," Odyn continued softly, "that revealing my true nature would change things between us."

"And what exactly are 'things between us,' Odyn?" Lucina asked, her usually resolute voice uncertain.

The dark elf's gaze held hers, unwavering despite his weakened state. "You know the answer as well as I do, Princess."

Lucina stood abruptly, pacing the small confines of the tent. "We're in the middle of a war. I came from a future where everything was lost. I can't afford—"

"To care for someone?" Odyn finished. "Or to let someone care for you?"

"To lose anyone else," she corrected, her back to him now, shoulders tight with tension. "Especially not..." She trailed off, unable to complete the thought.

Odyn managed to sit up despite the pain, his determination evident in every labored movement. "Lucina, look at me."

She turned slowly, her composure threatening to crack.

"I have lived for over a century," he said. "I watched my homeland fall. I've spent decades with nothing but vengeance to sustain me." His voice softened. "And then I found you—someone who understands what it means to lose everything, yet still fights to create something better."

Lucina took a hesitant step toward him. "I always sensed you were keeping part of yourself hidden. I just never realized how literally."

A small smile tugged at Odyn's lips. "The Dragon Crest isn't who I am. It's merely a tool, a weapon."

"A weapon you used to save me, at great cost to yourself." Lucina returned to her seat beside him, this time closer than before. "Why?"

The question hung in the air between them, though both knew the answer.

Odyn reached out, his hand finding hers. Despite the residual pain of the Crest, his touch was gentle. "Because in all my long years, I've never met anyone worth protecting more than you."

Lucina's fingers intertwined with his, her usual guardedness momentarily set aside. "When I saw you fall after the battle... I realized something I've been trying to deny since we met."

"And what's that?" Odyn asked, his voice barely audible.

"That I've been fighting so hard to save the future that I forgot to allow myself to live in the present." Her free hand hesitantly reached up, brushing a strand of silver hair from his forehead where the Crest had blazed earlier. "And the present I want... includes you."

The world outside the tent—the war, the politics, the impending battles—seemed to fade away as Odyn slowly leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Lucina met him halfway, her lips finding his in a kiss that spoke of all the words they'd left unspoken for too long.

When they finally parted, Odyn's amber eyes had regained some of their usual light. "I should reveal ancient elven powers more often if this is the result."

Lucina laughed—a rare, unguarded sound—before her expression grew serious once more. "Tomorrow, you'll need to tell everyone everything you know about Valm's forces. And about your people."

"I will," he promised. "No more secrets between us."

"No more secrets," she agreed, her hand still in his. "Whatever comes next, we face it together."

Outside the tent, the camp bustled with preparations for the battles ahead. But for now, in this small sanctuary they had carved out amid the chaos of war, Lucina and Odyn had found something neither thought possible in these dark times—hope, not just for the future they fought for, but for themselves.

To be continued in Chapter 16: The Fall of Albanahyr; Elven Vengeance Awakened