Byleth is walking in the darkness, making his way towards a faint green light in the distance. 

While moving, he ponders his situation. ‘How did I get here? I was having a dream like usual, but this time I ended up here instead of waking up…’ 

Moving closer to the brilliant glow with every step, he can feel a resonance and longing from deep within. The indistinct luminescence seems to pulse with life, and he can feel his body matching its rhythm, the two beginning to resonate. 

Before realizing it, he arrives at the blinding source of effulgence, and once his vision clears his eyes widen in surprise. 

Laying directly in front of him is a sleeping girl as beautiful as a nymph resting on a tall, seemingly stone, grandiose throne illuminated by a soft green light overhead, the very same image he dreams about every night.

Unable to pry his gaze away from her, he begins to feel raw and powerful emotions rise up in his chest, something he has never quite experienced. Filled with an overwhelming desire to get closer to her, his body begins to move automatically, approaching the majestic stone seat of power. 

Pausing right beside her sleeping form, he gazes at her for an uncountable amount of time, seemingly in a trance as the sound of her shallow breathing pounds in his ears. Slowly, his hand begins to reach out towards her cheek. 

As it nears, the adolescent begins to hear an odd sound. It starts out quiet and muffled but gets clearer and louder each time. 

“…..h! …eth! Byleth!” 

Suddenly, just before he manages to touch her, the vision fades away as he opens his eyes to see his father’s worried face staring down at him.

Slowly blinking at him, Byleth’s confused gaze watches as he lets out a sigh of relief. 

“What’s wrong, are you okay? How do you feel?” 

Still a bit dazed by what had just happened, the young child merely looks at his father. Jeralt sits on the bed, “It’s been three days, you’ve been sleeping ever since I found you and those men.” 

The youth’s cobalt orbs tremble for a moment as he hears his parent’s words. 

“…three days…?” 

Looking around he sees that he’s in an unfamiliar room and that it’s currently bright outside. Trying to sit up, he feels a slight pain in his chest as he props himself against the wall in a sitting position. 

Glancing down at his chest, he finds it all wrapped up in gauze and recalls the fairly deep cut he got during the fight. Lightly fingering his bandages, the boy once again quickly looks around the room, ultimately resting his gaze on his guardian, “Where are we?”

The crease in the former knight’s brow never leaves as he studies his son’s face. 

“We’re staying with Zane. I figured our place is too… messy right now. But anyway, are you sure you’re fine? It almost seemed as if… well it doesn’t matter, I’m glad you’re awake.” 

Nodding in affirmation the teal-haired youth turns his head to look out the window.  A comfortable silence descends on the two until its broken by a small growl from the lad’s stomach. He glances at Jeralt then right back out the window, his expression never changing. 

Despite no obvious tells, the father can tell the boy is vaguely embarrassed and chuckles as he ruffles his hair and gets up from the bed. 

“How about some food? I’m sure you could use some.” 

Lightly nodding, Byleth watches his dad leave before closing his eyes, thinking about the strange occurrence.

It had been the usual dream, a large-scale battle in a place he didn’t recognize. Amidst a fierce deluge from the ashen sky the end of the massive battle seemed at hand. 

Floating in the sky, untouched by the death plaguing the air, the teal-haired adolescent watched shell shocked as powerful explosions rippled throughout the battlefield, reaping life after life in indiscriminate shockwaves of pure power. 

A blazing tornado of flame, a concentrated beam of crackling lightning, a rupturing of the very earth to drag foes into the depths, the power on display wielded by some of these figures was unfathomable in the child’s eyes. 

So too was the amount of death. 

The land seemed deeply scarred by long periods of warfare and the barren wastes seemed unlikely to support any form of life for a long while even after the conflict was over. 

Ultimately, the dream ended in a duel between a radiant and unblemished young woman in flowing white and gold attire against a mighty and intimidating older man with long gray hair and countless grisly scars. 

Both were extremely formidable and wielded power that seemed unmatched by those around them, but in the end the woman claimed victory, surprisingly ending the man’s life with a dozen stabs to the chest, a sight that Byleth could relate with. 

The man’s host then either retreated or laid down their weapons amongst the sky shaking cheers, continuously chanting a name that somehow sounded familiar.

After that, he woke up surrounded by darkness. It was strange because it felt like he was actually there. His dreams always feel real, but this was different, it felt corporeal in a way. 

Eventually, he started to feel something calling to him and so he moved in that direction, which led to him coming face to face with the girl that’s ever prevalent in his mind. 

Thinking about her, the captain’s son looks over to the side where his bag had been placed beside his bed. Reaching for it, he pulls out his notebook and flips to the pages in the back. 

Looking at the contents, he traces his fingers on the paper while a small, almost imperceptible, smile finds itself on his lips.

While Byleth is resting in his room, Jeralt is having a discussion with his subordinate. 

“Have you found out who those two scumbags were?” 

“Yes, captain. My men and I have identified them as the pair of bandits that managed to escape us on the job about a month ago. They match the descriptions we got from their leader perfectly.” 

Speaking to Jeralt is the second in command of the New Dawn Mercenary Group, Zane. 

He has grown into a lean and muscular young man in his early twenties. Well-kept ginger-colored hair graces his head which pairs nicely with his bright light brown eyes. He’s quite a handsome man and has an upright air about him that, combined with his looks, doesn’t fail to attract a fair number of women. 

Currently, his usually cheerful face is dead serious as he discusses this matter with the boy’s father. Although Byleth might not be the most expressive child, Zane still feels quite attached to him and considers him to be a younger brother of sorts, having helped raise him since he was a baby.

“How is he holding up captain? He did just take his first lives after all…” 

Shaking his head, Jeralt sighs, something that’s become quite frequent lately. 

“You know how he is Zane, the boy is as quiet and stone-faced as usual. He does seem to be a bit distracted over something now though.” 

The ginger lightly chuckles as he prepares some food for the three of them, “I would hope so, what he did is no simple thing. I only pray it doesn’t affect him too much.” 

“Ha, knowing him it’s probably completely unrelated to those two lowlifes, although I don’t know if that’s a good thing…” 

As they continue to talk, Zane finishes preparing a rather sizeable lunch for all of them. 

“Uhh Zane… don’t you think that’s a bit too much food? Are you trying to feed a wild beast or something?” 

Zane has a good laugh at that, “Nonsense, I’m sure the kid is starving, and a nice full stomach will be great for getting him back on his feet.” 

Not bothering to respond, the mercenary captain rises, returning to his son’s room. Poking his head in he speaks, “Hey kid the food… is…ready…” 

His voice trails off at the end as he sees Byleth intently staring at a book before quickly closing it and hiding it behind his back. The only thing he managed to see was a bit of green on the pages, but nothing other than that. 

The youth just stares impassively at Jeralt, still holding the pages out of sight, while his father merely returns his gaze. 

“Okay… so anyway, do you need help coming to the table or…” 

The boy shakes his head and his old man simply replies and walks back to the kitchen, wondering curiously what got his son so worked up.

A number of days later, Byleth sits outside unwrapping his bandages in the early morning light. 

Coming undone, he notices a faint new scar running across the right side of his chest, having been mostly healed in only a few days. He runs his finger along the length of the mark before rising to his feet and beginning to stretch. 

Not long after, Zane comes out of the house only to see the silent boy dutifully practicing his sword stances, a light cover of sweat glistening on his body. 

The lieutenant whistles in surprise, “Wow kid, I figured the food would help but I didn’t think you’d be up and at it so soon.” 

He then eyes the new scar and sighs softly, but his gaze then turns mischievous as he picks up a training sword, “So are you up for some sparring? We wouldn’t want you to get done in by some street rats again now would we?” 

Nodding, the young boy adopts a determined gaze as he readies his stance.

Before long, Jeralt wakes up to the constant loud clacking of wood and goes outside to see the situation. He gets out the door just in time to see Byleth getting thrown to the ground, laying there for a second while catching his breath then shakily getting back up. 

Focusing on his son, he can see a couple of brand-new bruises littered throughout his body and simply shakes his head at the antics of the two in front of him. 

“All right now Zane, that’s enough, we wouldn’t want him to push himself too hard just yet.” 

The second in command rubs the back of his head, laughing, “I was only testing him a little. I’ve got to admit he’s good, you’re training so far really instilled the basics in him.” 

Then the ginger leisurely walks to the youngster and rustles his hair, “Good job little man, prepare yourself though, from here on out your father and I are going to start training you seriously, so get ready.” 

“Okay,” saying so the boy heads to the nearby stream to clean himself up.

Looking over to Jeralt once the youth is out of earshot, Zane gives him an unsure look. “I know what I just said, but don’t you think it’s a little soon? He’s still a bit young to be doing these kinds of things.” 

The flax-haired mercenary captain is silent for a moment before responding, “He has a lot of potential and needs to prepare himself. In this life, he’s also bound to encounter a lot of conflict. What happened the other day… it will never happen again, and this will be the first step towards that.” 

He then gives the other man a strong and meaningful look, “Don’t worry, we won’t go overboard, but he needs this. Plus… he can take it. I know that you’re aware of what he has, what he is. I appreciate you keeping it a secret, but now we’re going to lean into it and push him hard, because you and I both know he can handle it.”

The two men gaze at each other in silence, complicated thoughts going through their minds. Ultimately though, the younger of the two bows his head in acquiescence. 

The moment of tension broken, Zane’s cheerful voice rings out, “I’ll go make some breakfast, I bet he’s hungry after that spar.” 

Jeralt watches his deputy go back inside before walking over to his son in the distance. Sitting down on a large tree stump, he watches the boy get dressed then speaks. 

“From now on you’re going to come with me on our jobs. No more staying behind by yourself, not until you’re stronger.” 

Byleth stops his movements while looking up at his father. He bobs his head in acknowledgment, a small glimmer flashing in his eyes. 

The older man grins, “Good. Now then, Zane is making breakfast so be sure to come back in shortly.” 

After saying his piece, he rises and heads towards the house under the watchful gaze of his son as he puts on the rest of his clothes. After getting fully dressed, the young child heads into the woods, unknowingly skipping every now and then as he moves forward.

***

In another unknown region of Fódlan, a meeting is being held. 

“How are matters progressing?” 

“Very well my lord. In a few years’ time everything will be in place to begin our plans.” 

Nodding in acknowledgment, the shadowy figure turns to look at another one of the kneeling individuals present in the darkened room. 

“The research?” 

A sick laugh echoes from under the kneeling figure’s hood, “The research is advancing quite nicely my lord, in the near future we will be able to move on to human trials. The results so far have been quite amazing.” 

A large grin forms on the leader’s face hearing the good news. 

“The time is fast approaching my brethren, soon we will walk freely under the sun, threatened by nothing. Now then, return to your posts, we must continue our efforts, but continue to maintain your discretion as I’ve instructed.” 

“Yes, my lord”, all the kneeling figures say at once before disappearing in a flash of light.

Rising from his seat, the shadowed figure similarly disappears, reappearing in a grand hall. Walking briskly towards the end of it, the figure gets down on their knees. 

“Everything is proceeding smoothly my liege” 

Seated in front of them is a large man with a dangerous air hanging over him. The ruler’s chilling gaze studies the kneeling figure in front of him until he eventually waves his hand, dismissing them. The figure slowly backs away while once again vanishing. 

Seated on a throne, the menacing man briefly closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, his presence notably lessening as his form relaxes, “…very soon…soon we will have our revenge, but...” 

Staring into the distance, the man’s red orbs swim with complicated emotions and his grip on the throne tightens as he grimaces in pain. 

After a long and tense moment, he reopens his eyes which blaze with determination once more, “I’ve come too far to be halted here… I won’t fail you, not any of you.” 

As the cogs of fate begin to move in Fódlan, a storm starts to brew. It is a storm that will sweep up every single soul in its embrace, before bringing either ruin or prosperity.