Echoes of a Shattered Timeline: Searching for the Children of Time
The camp was quiet in the predawn hours, most of the Shepherds catching what rest they could before the trials ahead. Odyn found Robin sitting alone by the dying embers of the central fire, hunched over maps and tactical notes despite the events of the previous day.
"You should rest," Odyn said, his approach deliberately audible so as not to startle the tactician.
Robin looked up, exhaustion etched in every line of his face. "How can I? After what happened... after what I nearly did to Chrom..." He gestured helplessly at the Fire Emblem's absence.
Odyn settled beside him, his flame-orange eyes reflecting the glowing coals. "Lucina told me once that in her timeline, you fought Validar's influence until your last breath. That even controlled, you tried to warn Chrom."
"And yet I still killed him," Robin replied bitterly.
"In one possible future," Odyn corrected. "A future we're working to prevent."
Robin studied the dark elf's face. "You don't fear me? After what she told you?"
"Fear is a poor advisor," Odyn replied. "And fate is not as immutable as some believe." He touched the Dragon Crest on his forehead. "My people have carried this mark for generations—a reminder that destiny can be challenged, even rewritten."
Robin was silent for a long moment. "Lucina spoke of others," he finally said. "Others who came back with her."
"Yes," Odyn confirmed. "The children of the Shepherds, scattered across time."
"Then perhaps they hold the key," Robin suggested, straightening with new purpose. "If we could find them—gather them all—maybe their knowledge could help us counter Validar's plans."
As dawn broke over the camp, they brought this idea to Chrom and the others. The revelation that more time travelers might be found—children of their own futures—sparked a mix of wonder, concern, and determination among the Shepherds.
In the war council that followed, Lucina stood before the assembled Shepherds, her composure restored after the previous night's confrontation. The tent was crowded with both human and elven allies, all united in purpose despite the setback they had suffered.
"I did not come alone," she confirmed, addressing the question Robin had raised. "Others traveled with me—the children of many present here. We were separated upon arrival, scattered across both time and distance."
"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Frederick asked, his practical nature asserting itself despite Khanna's gentle touch on his arm.
"I had hoped to find them myself," Lucina admitted. "And... I feared changing too much, too quickly." She glanced at Odyn, drawing strength from his presence. "But circumstances have changed. Validar has the completed Fire Emblem, and we need every advantage we can find."
Robin spread a map across the central table. "Then we need to locate them—all of them—as quickly as possible. Lucina, do you have any idea where they might have appeared?"
Lucina approached the map, studying it intently. "Not precisely. The ritual was... imperfect. But I can tell you who we're looking for." She took a deep breath. "Severa, daughter of Robin and Cordelia."
A gasp escaped Cordelia, her face flushing nearly as red as her hair. Robin's expression cycled rapidly through shock, disbelief, and a complex emotion that defied simple naming.
"We're not—" Cordelia began.
"In my timeline," Lucina clarified gently. "Things may unfold differently here."
Sarai stepped forward, one hand resting on her pregnant belly. "Time is not a straight path, but a river with many branches. The futures these children come from may already be different from the one that awaits us."
"Who else?" Chrom prompted, bringing them back to the task at hand.
"Nygel," Lucina continued, "son of... a different Robin. A female Robin from another timeline branch."
Robin's eyes widened further. "That's... complicated."
"Indeed," Lucina agreed. "The ritual that sent us back created... echoes. Possibilities." She continued with her list. "Yarne, son of Donnel and Panne."
From the back of the gathering, Donnel's distinctive pot-helmet bobbed as he turned to look at the taguel woman, who seemed suddenly very interested in examining her claws.
"Brady," Lucina continued, "son of Maribelle and Valvadehrn."
The noble troubadour and the Red Knight exchanged a glance, their formal courtship now carrying the weight of future possibility.
"Noire, daughter of Tharja and Libra. Kjelle, daughter of Sully and Kellam."
"Wait, Kellam's here?" Stahl asked, looking around in confusion until the knight in question cleared his throat, having been standing beside him the entire time.
"Laurent," Lucina continued, "son of Xander and Miriel."
Valvadehrn straightened in surprise. "My brother? But he remained in Albanahr as royal advisor."
"In this timeline," Lynnia reminded him quietly. "Events clearly unfold differently where these children come from."
Lucina nodded. "Inigo, son of Olivia and Naevin."
The shy dancer hid her face behind her hands, while the stoic dark elven archer showed rare emotion in the widening of his eyes.
"Twins," Lucina continued, "a son and daughter born to Kivara and Stahl."
The dark elven warrior-woman raised an eyebrow at the cavalier, who nearly choked on the apple he'd been eating.
"A daughter born to Hailfire and Gaius."
The nimble thief paused mid-unwrapping of a sweet, glancing at the quiet dark elven mage who had joined their ranks more recently.
"Gerome, son of Gregor and Cherche. Nah, daughter of Alek and Nowi."
Alek's protective stance beside the manakete shifted subtly, the revelation of a future child adding new dimension to his already evident feelings.
"A son born to Henry and Syll."
The dark mage's perpetual smile widened as he glanced at the reserved dark elven guard, who maintained her professional composure despite the revelation.
"A child of Lyra and Vaike."
The youngest of the elven royals shot the axe-fighter a look that mixed warning and curiosity, while Vaike for once seemed at a loss for his usual boisterous words.
Lucina paused, her next words coming with visible difficulty. "And... twins. A son and daughter born to..." She faltered.
"Born to whom?" Chrom prompted gently.
"To Odyn and myself," she finally admitted, unable to meet the dark elf's gaze. "But from a different branch of time than my own. In my original timeline, we never..." She trailed off, the unspoken truth of Odyn's death in her future hanging in the air.
A profound silence fell over the gathering, each person processing the implications of these revelations—not just of future children, but of futures where different paths had been taken, different bonds formed.
It was Robin who finally broke the silence, his tactical mind already working through the possibilities. "We need to split into search parties," he said, turning back to the map. "Lucina, any clues at all about locations would be helpful."
Lucina composed herself, focusing on the task at hand. "Some may have sought out familiar places—ancestral homes or landmarks significant to their parents. Others might have been drawn to places of power or safety."
"The Mila Tree," Sarai suggested. "It's a nexus of ancient magic and has long been considered sanctuary by many peoples."
"Wyvern Valley," Cherche offered. "If our... son... inherited my love of wyverns, he might seek them out."
"The Sage's Hamlet," Miriel contributed. "A logical refuge for any child with scholarly inclinations."
As locations were suggested and marked on the map, a plan began to take shape. The Shepherds would divide into smaller groups, each with a mix of human and elven members, to search these potential locations simultaneously.
"Time is not on our side," Robin cautioned. "With the Fire Emblem in his possession, Validar will move quickly to perform the awakening ritual."
"Then we move quicker," Chrom declared, his determination undiminished despite yesterday's defeat. "We find these children, gather what knowledge they possess, and we stop Validar before he can succeed."
As the council disbanded and preparations for departure began, Odyn found himself walking alongside Lucina away from the others.
"You never spoke of them before," he said quietly. "These twins."
Lucina kept her gaze forward. "Because they don't exist in my timeline. They come from another branch—one where we..." She finally looked at him, vulnerability evident in her eyes. "One where we had more time."
Odyn was silent for a moment, processing this. "What are their names?" he finally asked.
A small, sad smile touched Lucina's lips. "Marth and Morgan. Named for the Hero-King and..." She hesitated. "And for the legendary tactician of Albanahr—the one who first united the dark elven houses under the Dragon Crest."
"Morgana," Odyn whispered, the name resonating with ancestral memory. "You honored both our peoples' greatest heroes."
"It wasn't my choice," Lucina reminded him gently. "It was another version of us—one who found each other sooner, perhaps. One who wasn't separated by my journey through time."
Odyn studied her face, seeing beyond the composure she maintained for the others. "We will find them," he promised. "All of them."
The search parties departed the following morning, spreading across Ylisse and beyond like ripples in a pond. Each group carried detailed maps and descriptions, seeking not just locations but rumors, signs, anything that might lead them to the displaced time travelers.
Chrom led one group toward the Ylissean-Plegian border, where refugees and wanderers often gathered in small encampments. With him went Sarai, Frederick, Khanna, and Robin—a force capable of both diplomacy and defense if needed.
Their first promising lead came from a merchant who spoke of a mercenary company led by a fierce young woman with red hair and a razor tongue. "Demands payment up front, that one," the merchant had explained. "But worth every coin when bandits come calling."
The description matched what Lucina had told them of Severa, daughter of Robin and Cordelia. The mercenary company had reportedly been hired to protect a mountain village being terrorized by risen.
When they arrived at the village, they found evidence of recent battle—risen corpses dissolving into purple mist, defensive fortifications hastily but effectively constructed.
"They were here," Robin confirmed, examining the tactical positioning of the defenses. "These formations... they show training. Military thinking."
"Severa received the same instruction I did," Cordelia said quietly, her complexion still coloring whenever the subject of her future daughter arose. "If she's anything like me..."
"She is," Chrom assured her with a knowing smile. "According to Lucina, stubbornly so."
Their search led them to a nearby pass, where they finally encountered the mercenary company returning from a patrol. At their head rode a young woman whose red hair and bearing immediately identified her parentage to anyone familiar with Cordelia. But the scowl she wore and the sharp directness of her gaze spoke of a different temperament.
"Severa," Cordelia breathed, stepping forward.
The young woman reined her horse to an abrupt halt, her expression cycling through shock, recognition, and finally settling into deliberate nonchalance. "Took you long enough," she said, though her attempt at indifference was betrayed by the slight tremor in her voice.
Meanwhile, Odyn led a second group including Lucina, Lissa, and Roy toward the ruins of an ancient temple near the Plegian border—a place Lucina believed might have drawn her future children due to its connection to Naga.
"They would seek places of power," she explained as they approached the weathered stone arches. "Places where the veil between worlds is thin."
The temple had clearly been occupied recently—fresh ashes in a fire pit, supply caches carefully hidden but discoverable to experienced eyes. Roy examined markings carved into one of the pillars.
"These are recent," he noted, fingers tracing the symbols. "And they combine Ylissean script with Albanahr runes. A message, perhaps?"
Before they could decipher it, the distinct sound of a bowstring being drawn echoed through the ruins. "That's far enough," called a young male voice, steady and commanding.
They turned slowly to find themselves facing two figures standing atop a crumbling wall. The taller one, a young man with Lucina's blue hair but Odyn's flame-orange eyes, held a bow at full draw. Beside him stood a girl who could only be his twin, her hand raised with magic crackling between her fingers—magic that bore the distinctive sapphire hue of Albanahr's Dragon Crest powers.
"Marth," Lucina whispered. "Morgan."
The young man's aim didn't waver, but surprise flickered across his features. "How do you know our names?"
"Because she's your mother," Odyn answered calmly, his gaze moving between the twins with barely contained wonder. "And I am your father."
"Impossible," Morgan replied, though doubt had crept into her voice. "Our parents are dead. They fell defending the Divine Dragon's temple."
"In your timeline," Lucina explained gently. "But not in this one. And not in my original future either." She took a careful step forward. "Time is not a straight path. The ritual that brought me back—that presumably brought you back as well—created ripples, crossings between different possible futures."
The twins exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them that spoke of years of relying on each other. Slowly, Marth lowered his bow.
"Prove it," he challenged, though hope had begun to replace suspicion in his expression. "Tell us something only our parents would know."
Lucina faltered, realizing the paradox of their request. "I cannot. The future you come from is not one I lived. The Lucina who was your mother... she wasn't me, exactly."
"But perhaps this will suffice," Odyn said, stepping forward and removing his glove. On his palm was a scar in the shape of a crescent moon. "In my family, this mark appears on every seventh son born to the royal line. It is not recorded in any history or known outside the immediate family."
Marth's composure cracked. Slowly, he removed his own glove, revealing an identical mark.
"It really is you," Morgan whispered, the magic fading from her fingers. "But how? Why are you both so young?"
"That," Roy interjected gently, "is a rather complicated story."
Similar scenes played out across the continent as the search parties located the scattered time travelers one by one. Not all reunions were as tentatively hopeful as the twins'. Some were fraught with complex emotions—resentment, disbelief, joy, and grief intermingled.
Maribelle and Valvadehrn found Brady in a remote village, where the rough-spoken but secretly soft-hearted young man had been serving as the town's only healer despite his awkward violin playing and gruff bedside manner.
"Ain't exactly the tearful reunion ya pictured, is it?" he challenged when Maribelle failed to hide her shock at his scarred face and decidedly un-noble bearing.
Valvadehrn surprised both Brady and Maribelle by stepping forward without hesitation, clasping his future son's shoulder with firm approval. "You kept them alive," he said simply, gesturing to the villagers. "Honor comes from action, not appearance."
Frederick and Khanna located Kjelle training in the ruins of an arena, her dedication to knighthood and combat excellence immediately recognizable to both of them despite her initial wariness.
"I'm not here for a family reunion," she had declared bluntly. "I'm here to stop Grima, nothing more."
"As are we," Frederick replied with equal directness. "Duty first. Family strengthens duty."
Khanna had simply studied her future daughter's stance and form before offering a slight nod of approval. "Your guard is high on the left. We can work on that."
The acknowledgment of her skill rather than attempts at emotional connection seemed to reach Kjelle where words might have failed.
Laurent was discovered in the Sage's Hamlet exactly as Miriel had predicted, though the circumstances were unexpected. The young scholar had arrived years before the others due to a temporal distortion, and had established himself as a respected researcher, meticulously cataloging everything from magical phenomena to everyday village life.
When introduced to Xander, who had arrived from Albanahr at Valvadehrn's urgent request, Laurent's scholarly composure briefly faltered. "Fascinating," he managed, adjusting his glasses. "The theoretical implications of meeting one's progenitor from an alternate temporal strand are... considerable."
"Indeed," Xander replied with equal scholarly interest. "I would be most interested in comparing notes on the divergent historical developments between our respective timelines."
Miriel nodded approvingly at this pragmatic approach to an emotionally complex situation.
Nah was found living among a secluded manakete community, her half-elven, half-manakete heritage making her a curiosity even among the dragon-descended. When Alek and Nowi finally located her, she greeted them with surprising composure.
"I calculated an 83% probability that you would eventually find me," she informed them. "Though I admit I did not factor in the dark elven connection. The historical records from my time were... incomplete."
Inigo proved the most challenging to convince, not because he doubted their identities, but because he had established himself as something of a local celebrity in a coastal town—his dancing and flirtatious charm having won him considerable popularity.
"You understand," he explained to a mortified Olivia and stoic Naevin, "that I have certain responsibilities to my admirers. One can't simply abandon adoring fans."
His bravado faded, however, when Olivia quietly demonstrated a dance sequence known only within her secluded troupe—one she had apparently taught him in another future.
Noire was discovered in the protection of a remote mountain village, where her dual nature—timid one moment, terrifyingly fierce the next—had made her both their healer and their defender. Tharja's reaction to her daughter's fear of her future self led to a rare moment of self-reflection for the dark mage.
"I gave you a curse amulet?" she asked, frowning. "To trigger berserker rages? That seems... inefficient. A simple fortitude hex would be more practical."
Libra's gentle intervention prevented further alarming suggestions.
The twins born to Kivara and Stahl—Cade and Karrin—were found working as mercenaries alongside Severa, their complementary fighting styles (his patient defense, her swift offense) making them formidable partners despite their constant bickering.
"Just like their parents," Robin observed with amusement as Kivara critiqued Stahl's relaxed riding posture while simultaneously adjusting her own twins' weapon grips with professional precision.
Gerome proved particularly resistant to emotional connection, his face permanently hidden behind a mask, his responses curt and focused solely on the mission of stopping Grima. Only Cherche's gentle approach to his wyvern Minerva—and the wyvern's immediate recognition of her—created a small crack in his carefully maintained distance.
"She remembers you," he acknowledged reluctantly. "Some bonds, it seems, transcend even time."
Gregor nodded sagely. "Is like Gregor always says: family is family, even when time gets very timey-wimey."
Yarne's reaction upon meeting Donnel and Panne was perhaps the most unguarded—the anxious taguel-human hybrid breaking down in relief at finding his parents alive, his fear of extinction temporarily forgotten in the joy of reunion.
"Y'all don't understand," he tried to explain through tears. "I'm the last taguel where I come from. The very last one! Do you know how much pressure that is?"
Panne's usual stoicism softened as she recognized in this young man not just her heritage, but Donnel's earnest heart as well.
Hailfire and Gaius found their daughter Ellie living among a troupe of traveling performers, her skill with throwing knives and sleight of hand suggesting she had inherited talents from both parents, though her sweet tooth was pure Gaius.
"Nice technique," Gaius approved after watching her performance. "Though you're telegraphing the third knife just a bit."
"Force of habit," she replied with a grin that mirrored his own. "Audiences like to see it coming just enough to be impressed when it hits."
Henry and Syll's son Grimm had perhaps the most unusual circumstances—having established himself as a "hex removalist" in a region plagued by dark magic, his cheerful approach to gruesome curses clearly inherited from his father, while his methodical thoroughness spoke of his mother's influence.
"Wow, you two look EXACTLY like I remember, only less dead!" he greeted them enthusiastically. "This is so much better than the risen versions I had to re-kill that one time!"
Lyra and Vaike's future child—a daughter named Astrid—was discovered training with a mercenary company known for taking only the strongest recruits. Her fighting style combined Vaike's raw power with Lyra's elven precision, making her a formidable warrior despite her youth.
"Teach's daughter would naturally be the best!" Vaike boasted upon finding her, though his pride faltered when she immediately challenged him to prove his own worth in combat.
"Blood means nothing," she informed him coolly. "Show me your strength or stand aside."
Lyra's intervention prevented an impromptu battle, though both father and daughter seemed equally disappointed by this.
As the scattered time travelers were gathered and brought back to the main camp, a new energy infused the Shepherds' ranks. These children brought not just additional fighting strength but crucial knowledge—details about Validar's plans that even Lucina had not known, insights into Grima's weaknesses, and strategies that had worked, however briefly, in their doomed futures.
Yet they also brought complications. Each came from slightly different timelines, their experiences and knowledge sometimes contradicting one another. Some had known each other in their futures; others were meeting for the first time. And all carried the emotional weight of worlds destroyed, parents lost, and sacrifices made.
Perhaps most significantly, they brought a sense of urgency that transcended even Chrom's determination. These children had seen the end of everything they loved—had fought and lost and traveled across time itself for a second chance.
As Robin studied the expanded tactical possibilities their presence created, he found himself drawing hope from their very existence. "They're proof," he told Chrom as they pored over maps in the command tent. "Proof that the future can be changed."
"Yes," Chrom agreed, watching through the tent opening as Lucina spoke with her unexpected twins, Odyn standing beside her with a mix of wonder and determination in his expression. "And proof of what we're fighting for."
The completed Fire Emblem might be in Validar's possession, but the Shepherds now had something perhaps more powerful—a second chance, informed by the hard-won wisdom of futures that need not come to pass.
As night fell over the combined camp of present and future warriors, human and elven allies united by bonds that transcended time itself, preparations continued for the final confrontation with Validar and the threat of Grima's return.
This time, they would not fight separately, across disconnected fragments of broken timelines. This time, they would stand together—past, present, and future united against the fell dragon's darkness.
Echoes of a Shattered Timeline: The Dramatic Blade
The war council had reconvened after days of successful searches, the tent now crowded with both the original Shepherds and their newly-found future children. Maps were spread across the central table, marked with locations where each time traveler had been discovered.
"That's everyone, then?" Chrom asked, surveying the assembled group with a mixture of wonder and tactical assessment.
Lucina shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting briefly toward Lissa and Roy before returning to the map. "Not... quite everyone."
The slight hesitation in her voice drew immediate attention. Robin, ever observant, straightened from his hunched position over the tactical notes. "Who are we missing?"
For a moment, Lucina seemed to debate with herself, then sighed. "Owain," she said simply, a hint of fond exasperation coloring her tone.
"Owain?" Lissa repeated, the name unfamiliar yet somehow resonant to her. Beside her, Roy—known as Thallion to many in the Shepherds—raised an eyebrow.
"Your son," Lucina confirmed, addressing them both directly now. "In the future I come from, and apparently in several other timeline branches as well."
A stunned silence fell over the tent, broken only by Lissa's quick intake of breath and the subtle shift of Roy moving imperceptibly closer to her side.
"I have a son?" Lissa whispered, her usual exuberance momentarily subdued by the weight of this revelation.
"You do," Lucina nodded, a small smile playing at her lips despite her earlier reluctance. "And he is... unique, even among our rather unusual group."
"Unique how?" Roy asked, his normally calm demeanor betraying a hint of paternal curiosity.
Here, Lucina paused again, clearly searching for diplomatic phrasing. "Owain has inherited certain... traits from both of you. His fighting skill is impressive—a blend of Ylissean royal swordplay and Thallion's elven techniques." She hesitated before adding, "He's also inherited a certain... dramatic flair."
From among the future children, Severa let out an undignified snort. "That's putting it mildly."
"His 'sword hand hungers' constantly," Brady added with a gruff but affectionate eye-roll.
"He names everything," Kjelle contributed. "His sword, his moves, even his own body parts."
"The techniques themselves are actually quite effective," Laurent noted, adjusting his glasses. "The theatrical delivery, however, is somewhat... excessive."
Lissa's expression had transformed during these descriptions, confusion giving way to delight. "He sounds wonderful," she declared, causing several of the future children to exchange knowing glances.
Roy's lips twitched in what might have been the beginning of a smile. "Where might we find this... dramatic son of ours?"
Lucina turned back to the map. "That's the challenge. Owain was always drawn to legendary weapons and places of heroic significance. In our time, he was constantly searching for 'relics of power' to control his 'sword hand.'"
"The Sage's Hamlet yielded no sign of him," Laurent confirmed. "Though the elder sage did mention a young man who spoke in 'most peculiar cadences' requesting information about legendary weapons several months ago."
"The ruins of the Hero-King's castle?" Chrom suggested, pointing to a location on the eastern edge of the map.
"No," Morgan interjected, speaking up from where she stood with her twin. "If he's anything like in our timeline, he wouldn't go somewhere so obvious."
Marth nodded in agreement. "Owain preferred the obscure legends—the ones he could... embellish."
A thoughtful silence fell over the group as they considered the possibilities. It was Frederick who finally spoke, his practical mind cutting through the speculation.
"There are rumors of an abandoned temple in the western mountains," he said. "Local villages speak of a lone swordsman who appeared several months ago, claiming to be 'sealing dark powers' within the ruins."
"That sounds like Owain," Severa confirmed with a sigh.
Chrom straightened, decision made. "Then that's where we'll look. Lissa, Roy—this search should be yours. Take whoever you need."
"I'll go," Lucina volunteered immediately. "Owain might be... suspicious of strangers, but he knows me."
"Me too," offered Kivara unexpectedly. The dark elven warrior-woman stepped forward, her expression professionally neutral. "The western mountains have difficult terrain. My tracking skills will be useful."
"Then it's settled," Chrom declared. "Find him and bring him back. We need every advantage we can gather before confronting Validar."
The journey to the western mountains took three days, the terrain growing increasingly difficult as they ascended. Lissa, despite her determination, struggled with the steep paths.
"Here," Roy offered his hand at a particularly challenging section, his expression softening as she took it gratefully.
"Thanks," she smiled, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I'm still getting used to the idea, you know. Us having a son together."
Roy nodded, his normally reserved demeanor contemplative. "It is... unexpected. Yet not unwelcome."
Ahead of them, Lucina and Kivara led the way, the dark elf's keen eyes scanning the path for signs of passage. They had maintained a professional distance throughout the journey, though occasionally Lucina caught Kivara watching Roy and Lissa with an unreadable expression.
"You're wondering about the timelines," Lucina observed quietly as they paused to allow the others to catch up.
Kivara's violet eyes flicked to her briefly. "It is... complicated. In your future and these children's futures, different paths were taken. Different bonds formed."
"Time is not a straight line," Lucina agreed. "The decisions we make now may lead us down paths entirely different from those our future selves took."
The dark elf was silent for a moment. "And yet some choices seem to repeat across timelines. Some bonds persist." Her gaze drifted back to Roy and Lissa.
Before Lucina could respond, Kivara stiffened, raising one hand in a signal to halt. "There," she whispered, pointing to a barely visible path branching away from the main trail. "Recent tracks. A single traveler, moving with purpose."
They followed the hidden path as it wound through dense forest and across rocky outcroppings. Eventually, the trees thinned, revealing the crumbling remains of an ancient temple perched on a plateau. Its stone columns, weathered by time and the elements, still stood sentinel around a central courtyard.
As they approached, a figure emerged from the shadows of the ruins—a young man with blond hair the same shade as Lissa's, but styled with dramatic flair. He wore a yellow and blue outfit that somehow managed to incorporate elements of both Ylissean royal garb and elven styling, with multiple belts and unnecessary accessories. At his hip hung a sword, its hilt wrapped in leather that had been inscribed with runes.
The young man struck a pose, one hand clutched dramatically over his face while the other extended toward them, fingers splayed.
"Halt, travelers!" he proclaimed in a voice clearly pitched to carry across the mountaintop. "You approach the sacred temple of the Radiant Dawn, where I, Owain Dark, stand eternal vigil against the forces of calamity!"
Lissa's hand flew to her mouth, a delighted gasp escaping her. Beside her, Roy blinked rapidly, as if trying to reconcile the flamboyant figure before them with his own reserved nature.
Lucina stepped forward, a mix of exasperation and fondness in her expression. "Owain, it's me. Lucina."
For a brief moment, the theatrical posture faltered, genuine shock registering on the young man's face. "Lucina? But how—" He caught himself, quickly resuming his dramatic stance. "Even time itself bends to the will of heroic blood! My sword hand twitches with the recognition of a fellow warrior of destiny!"
"Owain," Lucina tried again, more firmly this time. "We don't have time for this. We've come to bring you back to the others. All the children from the future—we've gathered them to help stop Grima in this timeline."
This seemed to penetrate his theatrical façade. Owain straightened, his expression becoming more serious, though still maintaining a certain dramatic flair. "The others live? The fell dragon can be stopped?" His gaze shifted past Lucina, landing on Lissa and Roy. His composure slipped again, genuine emotion breaking through. "Mother? Father?"
Lissa stepped forward without hesitation, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Owain," she said simply, opening her arms.
For a moment, the young man stood frozen, his theatrical persona completely abandoned. Then, with a choked sound that might have been a sob, he rushed forward into her embrace.
"I thought—I never imagined—" he stammered, his earlier grandiose speech patterns forgotten.
"Shh, it's okay," Lissa soothed, holding him tightly despite their nearly matched heights. "We're here now."
Roy approached more cautiously, clearly uncertain of his place in this reunion. Owain looked up, meeting his father's gaze with a vulnerability that belied his earlier bravado.
"You look just as I remember," he said quietly. "Before you fell defending the eastern pass."
Roy's expression softened. Wordlessly, he placed a hand on his future son's shoulder, a gesture of connection that seemed to bridge the gap between them.
After a moment, Owain stepped back, visibly collecting himself. When he spoke again, his dramatic flair had returned, though tempered with genuine emotion. "Behold! The legendary trio reunited by fate's decree! Father's elven grace, Mother's boundless spirit, and my own heroic presence—surely the forces of darkness tremble at our combined might!"
Lissa laughed, the sound bright and relieved. "He definitely gets that from my side of the family," she told Roy, who responded with a rare, warm smile.
"Indeed," he agreed, studying his future son with growing appreciation. "Though I see something of my people's storytelling tradition as well. We value the preservation of history through dramatic recitation."
Owain's eyes lit up at this validation. "Yes! Exactly! The sacred traditions must be maintained through appropriately epic narration!" He drew his sword with a flourishing spin that was equal parts theatrical and skillful. "Behold my blade, Missiletainn! Forged in the tears of dragons and blessed by the whispers of heroes past!"
"It's a steel sword with some runes carved into the handle," Lucina clarified in an undertone to Kivara, who had been watching the reunion with stoic professionalism.
The dark elf's lips twitched in what might have been amusement. "Effective naming can be a powerful psychological technique in battle. It creates connection between warrior and weapon."
"Don't encourage him," Lucina groaned, though her expression remained fond.
As they prepared to depart, Owain insisted on gathering his "mystical artifacts" from within the temple ruins. These proved to be a collection of ordinary objects he had imbued with elaborate backstories—a chipped teacup he claimed had belonged to the first exalt, a pebble supposedly formed from a dragon's tear, and various other trinkets.
"We can't possibly carry all this," Lucina protested as the pile grew.
"Each artifact contains power sealed by my heroic bloodline!" Owain insisted. "To abandon them would risk catastrophic consequences!"
It was Roy who found the diplomatic solution. "Perhaps," he suggested with careful gravity, "these artifacts would be most secure if left here under the temple's protection. Should we succeed in our mission, you could return to retrieve them."
Owain considered this, striking a thoughtful pose with one hand tucked under his chin. "A wise stratagem! Indeed, dividing our attention between battle and artifact protection would be tactically unsound." He turned to address his collection solemnly. "Rest here, treasures of legend. Your guardian shall return when darkness has been vanquished!"
As they descended the mountain, Owain regaled them with increasingly elaborate tales of his exploits since arriving in this timeline. Lissa listened with rapt attention, occasionally asking questions that only encouraged more dramatic flourishes. Roy maintained his composed demeanor, though his eyes rarely left his newfound son, a subtle wonder evident in his gaze.
"He fits perfectly," Lissa whispered to Roy as they watched Owain demonstrate a particularly elaborate sword technique he called "RADIANT DAWN ULTIMATE TECHNIQUE: SILENT FURY!" to an amused Lucina. "He's exactly what our child would be like."
Roy nodded, his normally reserved expression softening. "A bridge between our worlds. Your openness, my precision. Your heart, my discipline."
"And apparently both our tendencies toward the dramatic," Lissa added with a grin, nudging him playfully. "Don't pretend you don't have a flair for the ceremonial. I've seen you during elven rituals."
A rare, full smile crossed Roy's face as he acknowledged this with a slight inclination of his head. "Perhaps our son comes by his tendencies honestly, after all."
Ahead of them, Owain had paused in his demonstration, his expression suddenly serious as he looked back at his parents. For a moment, the theatrical mask fell away completely, revealing the young man who had lost everything and traveled across time itself seeking a second chance.
Then, catching their gaze, he grinned and struck another pose. "Onward, bearers of heroic blood! Our legend awaits inscription in the eternal scrolls of history!"
Lissa laughed, jogging forward to link her arm with his. "Lead the way, O dramatic one!"
As they continued their journey back to the main camp, Lucina fell into step beside Kivara, who had maintained her distance throughout the reunion, her expression professionally neutral.
"He's the last one," Lucina said quietly. "With Owain, we've gathered all the children who came through time."
Kivara nodded, her violet eyes scanning the path ahead. "And now the real battle begins."
"Yes," Lucina agreed, her hand resting briefly on the hilt of her Falchion. "But this time, we fight together—present and future united."
Ahead of them, Owain's voice carried on the mountain air, expounding on the epic clash that awaited them. Despite his theatrical delivery, his words held a core of truth that resonated with all who heard them.
"Behold! The children of shattered timelines gather once more, not as scattered fragments but as a unified force! The fell dragon's dark designs shall crumble before our combined might! For we are more than warriors—we are legacy incarnate, the living bridge between past and future! Our bonds transcend time itself, forging a weapon no darkness can withstand!"
As the sun set behind the mountains, casting long shadows across their path, the small group continued their journey back to camp—the final piece now in place for the confrontation that would determine the fate of all possible futures.
To be continued in Chapter 20: Echoes of Shattered Timelines: Bonds Across Time