Dreamweaver | Fire Emblem Fates

Chapter Seventeen

Siegbert's face tightened, and Forrest saw despair in his eyes. He couldn't be sure if Siegbert took his words to heart, but he shut his eyes a moment, and when he opened them again, they were a little steadier. Not so bright, on the edge of hysteria.

"Okay." Siegbert's voice was shaky, but he gave his consent. "Okay, Forrest. I'll do it. We'll...we'll do it. I trust you."

His trust warmed Forrest, but it also made a bolt of doubt shoot down his back, doubt and fear that he'd given Forrest his word only to plunge into an abyss that might very well kill the both of them for good.

No. No more fear.

Brynhildr swooped low. "Our time is at an end."

Siegbert and Forrest followed her gaze and saw the far darkness dissolving into liquid black. The deathstroke spell, tenacious as ever, had arrived, sliding across the stone towards them. The two boys rose and retreated, stepping back until they reached the edge of the cliff. The screeches of demons and the Silent Dragon seemed to grow louder with every step they took, until it was an all-consuming roar as they stood at the very edge. A cold wind appeared, harsh and keening, and it whipped Forrest's hair around his face as it plunged downwards, down into the abyss where Anankos dwelt. Gravity seemed to intensify, beckoning the young lords earthward, and the two knew without a doubt that the demons of their worst nightmares were waiting impatiently for them to give in and jump. Fall.

Siegbert's hand shook — or was that Forrest's hand, shaking around his? Fear tightened Forrest's chest, crept up his throat and locked his jaw. He wanted to say something to Siegbert, something to galvanize their courage, because if there was no courage, than there was no chance at life. They had to remember that this was a test, a dream, and they had to take confidence in that knowledge, in that truth, or else their leap of faith would be pointless.

But as Forrest gazed down into what waited for him, into a pit deeper than the Bottomless Canyon, he, for a fleeting second, could not remember how to be brave.

Then, Brynhildr twisted around him, wreathing him in the scent of safety, wisdom, and wildflowers. "I will tell you when to jump." Her voice was calm, even. "You must go when the deathstroke spell is almost upon you."

Forrest stared into her green eyes. Her composure calmed him, unlocked his jaw. "What about you?" he asked. "How quickly will you follow?"

"I will not."

"What?" Shock made Forrest stammer. What was she saying? She wasn't going with them? "But...what do you mean? If you don't come with us, the deathstroke spell—"

"Don't worry about me." Brynhildr's green eyes remained serene. "Your safety is my only concern."

"But if you die—"

"If it comforts you, know that I will not die. I told you once that I cannot interact with this world in this form. But the truth, Forrest, is that I was never really here. Not truly."

Forrest shook his head, reeling from this information. "I don't understand!" he cried over the wind and screams of dragons. "What do you mean?"

Brynhildr's voice held a smile. "I am only here because you brought me here, Forrest." Before Forrest could say anything else, she bent close, her lips by his ear. "Brynhildr," she murmured, "hear my cry. Rise from the earth and lay low those that would do me harm. Defend my allies and sunder my foes."

Then, she twisted away, sailing high above, undulating on the wind. Forrest stared after her. Those words...what could they have meant?

"Forrest!" Siegbert's grip tightened on his hand. "The spell!"