This is something I actually wrote for my Creative Writing class... We were supposed to write on the topic "Does God Care?", and since I didn't much like the idea of writing an essay, I decided to do something different instead. I don't think I managed to stick to the prompt too well, though...

Disclaimer: Like every other random teenage fan, I don't own Fire Emblem.

The Widening Gyre

by Griffinkhan

"Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity."

-from "The Second Coming"
by W. B. Yeats

The fog still clung doggedly to the wet ground, giving the landscape an eerie, almost sinister look. The mist clung to the traveler's cheeks, like the breath of the men lying slain in the last clearing back.

Isadora shuddered and wiped droplets of moisture from her armor, trying to dispel the morbid images. The middle of a campaign was not the time to be getting second thoughts. She was a paladin of Pherae, and her duty was to protect her lord. If that meant she had to kill, then so be it.

The female knight tightened her grip on her lance handle, the silvery object glowing eerily in the fog. She wouldn't be out here much longer, she reassured herself, absently stroking her horse's mane with her free hand. This was the last battle. Over those hills to the east lay their goal, the Dragon's Gate. Inside was the reason she was leading her horse across slippery mud on a forsaken island. Somewhere in that building resided Nergal, the dark mage who had slain her fellow knights, her former lord, Marquess Elbert, and, she had thought for a time, her lover. Though she had discovered later that Harken still lived, Isadora still wished nothing more than to see the dark druid dead. Nergal had caused too much suffering to herself, to Pherae, to the entire continent of Elibe. Isadora gripped her lance tighter. He and his minions would not greet another sunrise- she would see to that.

The beating of wings overhead made the paladin look up, blinking in the light of the revealed sun as something whisked the fog away. A second later, the snowy white form of a pegasus landed beside her. Isadora pulled slightly on her frightened steed's reigns as she greeted the winged horse's rider.

"Hail, Dame Fiora. What news do you have?"

"Not good," the pegasus knight sighed, brushing strands of her sea- green hair from her eyes. "There's another group of morphs up ahead. At least three swordsmen, perhaps more."

Isadora raised her lance. "Well, we should be able to take them out together," she said. "Lead, and I'll follow."

Fiora nodded, and whispered words to her mount. The pegasus took to the air again, flying low overhead to remain in Isadora's vision.

The female paladin set her horse into a canter, keeping one eye on the winged knight and the other on the ground ahead of her. This terrain was treacherous, and she did not wish to break her horse's leg through carelessness.

The fog broke as the knight entered a field, Fiora disappearing along with it. Isadora assumed she was flying high in order to take the enemy by surprise when she swooped from above. The tall grasses brushed against her horse's legs, and she silently thanked the heavens she was not on foot. The wet grass would have quickly soaked her to the bone, as it was doing to the uniforms of the three morphs that stood watching her across the plain.

The enemy wasted no time. As soon as their eerie golden eyes spotted the paladin approaching, they drew their swords and moved to attack. Isadora readied her lance, waiting.

The first morph darted forward, swiping his weapon at her horse in the hope of disabling it. However, Isadora was too fast for him. She wheeled her mount sharply to the right at the last second, blocking the hero's blade with her lance. Digging her heels into her steed's side, she turned and charged at the enemy, using the momentum to help thrust the lance past the morph's sword and into his stomach.

The soldier's gold eyes widened and he slumped to the ground, like the puppet he was. Isadora yanked her lance from the lifeless body, turning to her remaining foe. Bright red blood dripped from the weapon onto the damp grass.

The two morphs hung back, watching the paladin warily. She was a much greater threat than they had anticipated. The pair of almost identical soldiers glanced at one another. Isadora could almost see a plan forming in their minds. Watching them, she suddenly wondered if they could perhaps communicate telepathically somehow. She wouldn't put anything past the evil creatures.

The morphs seemed to come to an agreement, nodding slightly to each other. Then the one on the right charged, sword raised. Isadora steadied her mount and braced for the assault.

Then the second morph raised his weapon. Grinning maliciously, he thrust the sword to the sky and a bolt of golden energy shot toward the paladin.

Isadora's eyes widened as the light magic surrounded her. She forced herself not to scream as pure energy coursed through her body, temporarily blinding her. She felt her horse shudder beneath her as the spell hit it as well. She realized what weapon the morph must be carrying- a Light Brand, suffused with holy magic. The power in the blade gave sword bearers the ability to strike from a distance. But how had he obtained it? There were very few such weapons left in the world... Legend had it that they had been blessed by St. Elimine herself, for use during the ancient war against the dragons. Isadora had only seen one once before. One of the company thieves had found it during their trek through the Nabata desert, and it now hung on the wall of Merlinus' wagon as no one in the army could bring themselves to use it. She had lifted it once, out of curiosity, but had quickly put it back. It had felt like the weapon was watching her, judging her... It was far too holy for her to bear. But how, then, could this morph, this abomination created from the life energy stolen from human beings, dare to wield this blade?

Isadora pulled on the reigns, her vision still cloudy and muscles burning from the light attack. She could hear the whistling of the charging morph's sword and blindly threw the horse to the left, hoping she had dodged in time. She wasn't that lucky. The paladin bit back a cry as the morph's blade sliced into the gap in her armor just below her right shoulder. Her lance dropped from her grasp automatically as pain shot down her arm. Clutching the reigns with her good hand, she tried to spur her horse away from the battle only to find her path blocked by the morph with the Light Brand. Her horse reared back, trying to avoid colliding with the enemy. Isadora desperately clung one-handed to the saddle, but it was no use. She slipped off the horse and tumbled to the ground, landing painfully on her injured shoulder in the wet grass.

The shock of the impact momentarily stunned her. She lay on her stomach, trying to catch her breath as her shoulder throbbed and the enemy closed in. And where was Fiora? She should have been here by now... Isadora rolled painfully onto her back and fumbled for the silver sword attached to her belt as the pair of morphs stood over her, grinning.

There was a hum of wings and a shrill war-cry, and seconds later Isadora's line of vision was clear again. She sat up, watching Fiora deal killing blows to the two hapless enemies with her lance.

"You made it just in time, Dame Fiora," the paladin groaned, attempting to rise to her feet without jarring her shoulder. The Ilian knight quickly hopped off her pegasus and grasped her comrade's uninjured arm, helping to pull her upright.

"I'm sorry," Fiora apologized, "I was circling 'round to attack when a couple of pegasus-riding morphs ambushed me."

"Pegasus riders?" Isadora raised an eyebrow. "How did Nergal manage that? Pegasi don't live outside Ilia, and even there, they're rare."

"I know," Fiora replied. "Maybe he conducted a raid, or something, but...no..." Suddenly, she looked sick. "No..."

"Dame Fiora? What's the matter?" Isadora asked, alarmed.

"He... he must have made... those morphs, from the quintessence of my unit..." she whispered.

"What?"

"I was the commander of the 5th wing of the Ilian pegasus knights..." Fiora explained. "My unit was investigating this island, on the request of our employer... When we got here, we were attacked. The whole unit was lost... except me..."

"And so, Nergal must have..." Isadora supposed she must look rather sick herself by now. "That's... horrible..."

"...And... I killed them again," Fiora whispered.

Isadora put her good hand on the pegasus knight's shoulder. "They were morphs, Dame Fiora," she said. "No matter who the essence they were made of came from, they were still only puppets of Nergal."

Fiora turned away. "But why does it have to be like this? Why do we have to keep fighting?"

Isadora was silent for a moment. "I ask that question myself sometimes..." she said. "And I answer it, for Lord Eliwood, for my family, for the world... but somehow, even all that doesn't seem to make it right..."

Fiora looked at the ground for a moment longer, then turned. "Well, we'd better-" She stopped. "Oh, you're bleeding!"

Isadora glanced at her shoulder. She had forgotten about that. Red blood was seeping from the wound, staining her white armor. "It's nothing..."

"It won't be nothing if it gets infected," Fiora replied, searching through her belt pouch. Retrieving an elixir, she gently removed the straps on Isadora's armor and poured some of the liquid on the wound. It made a slight hissing sound as it began to knit the torn skin back together.

"Here, drink some of this," the pegasus knight said, handing over the elixir bottle and then searching around for a bandage. "Looks like that morph hit you with his Light Brand."

Isadora took the advice as Fiora wrapped the bandage around her rapidly healing shoulder and replaced the armor. "I still can't understand how he was able to wield it..."

Fiora shrugged. "We've fought evil monks before... Think of Kenneth."

Isadora shuddered. "That man was... twisted. The world is better off without him. And yet..."

Fiora nodded. "And yet, it seems wrong to have killed him."

Isadora sighed. "Is there no answer?"

Fiora was about to reply when a violent explosion shook the air. Both women turned and saw a pillar of golden light dissipating a few meters away. The grass beneath was scorched and black.

"Morph bishop!" Fiora gasped, pointing to a gray-swathed figure darting behind some rocks at the far end of the field. "Must have a long- range tome..." She raced to her pegasus and climbed on, unhooking her lance from the saddle. Isadora scooped up her own dropped lance from the dirt near one of the dead morphs and headed to where her horse stood pawing the ground nervously. Another blast of light magic just missed hitting her as she mounted.

"I'll distract him!" Fiora shouted, taking to the air. Isadora nodded and spurred her steed toward the rocks. The morph released a third blast of magic, this one narrowly missing the circling pegasus knight.

Isadora lowered her lance and charged. The bishop dodged back behind the rocks and the paladin turned, making a wide loop around the obstruction. The morph spotted her and slipped to the other side of the rock, firing off another spell. It missed Isadora, instead blowing apart a nearby rock.

The bishop raced away as Isadora charged again, escaping into a patch of rocky ground where she could not follow without risking injuring her mount. However, Fiora had no such limitations. The pegasus knight dived at the enemy, lance at the ready.

The morph raised his light tome, releasing another spell. This time, it did not miss. The golden lightning hit Fiora straight on. She cried out in shock and her pegasus swerved wildly, unable to control its descent.

"Dame Fiora!" Isadora cried, alarmed, spurring her horse forward. The Ilian knight was thrown ungainly from the saddle as her mount crashed to the ground. Winged horse and rider lay on the damp earth, unmoving.

"Fiora!" Isadora leapt from the saddle, rushing to her friend's side. The knight groaned as the paladin tried to lift her into a sitting position.

"Behind... you..." Fiora whispered, and Isadora turned to see the morph standing behind her, gold eyes glinting. Before she could reach for her lance, the creature exploded in a shower of sparks.

Isadora's head whipped around, and she saw yet another bishop approaching, staff and magic tome at the ready. She caught hold of her lance and prepared to attack.

"Hold! Lady, I am not your enemy!" The bishop raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

"What?" Isadora said, nearly dropping her lance in shock.

The man kept his hands up, and the paladin could see now that his hair was grey, not sleek and black like a morph's. "I am merely a traveler, hoping for some peace and quiet... But it seems I cannot have that now."

"What is a bishop doing on the Black Isle? This is far from a holy place," Isadora asked, looking suspicious.

Fiora raised her head from the ground. "...Your excellency?" she asked, wincing in pain.

The bishop looked down at the fallen pegasus rider, looking puzzled. Suddenly, his countenance cleared. "Oh! You're that knight I met a few weeks ago..." he said, kneeling down. "That was a nasty blow you took... Here, let me heal you." He raised his staff and mumbled a few words. Clear blue light surrounded Fiora, and she sat up, completely restored.

"Thank you very much," she said, getting to her feet. "Would you mind looking at my Pegasus, as well?"

"No need," the bishop said, smiling slightly. Fiora turned and saw the winged horse standing up, beginning to munch on a patch of clover. "That's a Fortify stave... heals everything within a certain radius of the caster."

"That sounds very useful," Fiora replied, impressed.

"You two have met before?" Isadora asked, looking from the pegasus knight to the mysterious bishop.

"Only briefly," explained Fiora. "I ran into him while searching some ruins on our first trip to this island. He gave me this goddess icon..." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small grey statuette of a woman.

"I trust it has brought you luck?" the bishop asked, smiling his small smile again.

Fiora shrugged. "I haven't died yet, so it must have."

"Oh! Your Excellency, you must think us very rude," Isadora exclaimed suddenly. "You saved us, and we haven't even told you our names."

The bishop smiled again. "To be fair, I haven't told you mine, either." He bowed. "I am Renault."

"And I am Isadora, a paladin of Pherae," Isadora replied. "This is my comrade, Fiora of the Knights of Ilia. Our army is attempting to rid the island of Nergal and his vile henchmen."

"A noble goal, to be certain," Renault said. He paused, thinking for a moment. "...If you don't mind... could I join you? Not that I'll be much help, but... There is no point hiding here when there are souls in need."

"Of course, Your Excellency!" said Fiora, enthusiastically. "We can always use more help, especially in this final battle."

"Final battle... yes..." Renault trailed off.

Isadora watched him, slightly confused. "Well, ah... I may not be the most pious of souls, but I am a believer in the teachings of Elimine," she said, smiling. "It is an honor to protect one of her bishops!"

Renault looked at her, then at the ground. "I'm sorry, but... I don't think I'm worthy of being called a bishop..."

"Whyever not?" Fiora asked, confused. "...Long ago, I was a mercenary," he elaborated. "I led a bloody, thoughtless life, unconnected to the holy teachings."

"Is that so?" said Isadora. "And then...what brought you to the light of Elimine?"

"I...lost a friend," he said. Isadora could tell relating this story was still very painful for him. "A man I could have called brother. But when he died, I knew nothing of prayers, of forgiveness. I only knew how to bash another man's skull... So I cast aside my weapons and knelt for the first time... to mourn my fallen friend."

"Then you are indeed worthy of being a bishop," Fiora said confidently. Renault looked at her, and she continued. "You repented your life of sin... You should not continually berate yourself for the past. You may have done wrong before... but as long as you realize your mistakes now, none of that matters."

Renault stared at her. "I think you may have missed your true calling, lady," he said, smiling. "You would have made an excellent priestess."

Fiora shook her head. "I'd rather feed my people's stomachs than their souls..." she said. "Ilia is a poor country, and it needs mercenaries like me to support and protect it. I must do my part... but I do have doubts..."

"As do I..." Isadora said, nodding. "That brings us back to what we were saying before you arrived, Bishop... To protect, one must do battle with one's enemies... And to do battle with one's enemies, one must...strike ...those enemies."

Renault was silent.

"I have taken many lives in battle before now..." Isadora continued. "For justice, for peace, for my lord, and for my country... I have fought all this time as a brave knight."

"And do you regret this choice?" he asked.

"...No," she said, after a moment. "I...I think we fight for the right reasons... However ...at times, I grow uneasy. I grow sorrowful for the lives cut short on the end of my blade."

"And also..." Fiora added. "How is it... how is it, that we are to lead a holy life... and yet those that are evil can wield its power as well? How is it that that morph could use holy tomes? And why is it that to protect, we must commit the very crimes we are safeguarding against? If indeed we are watched over by benevolent and loving gods, then why don't they seem to care about us? Why must evil still exist?"

"Your Excellency..." said Isadora, watching the bishop intently, "Are we wrong for feeling this way? What should we do?"

Renault looked at the grass.

"Bishop...?" she queried again.

"...Forgive me. I am a fraud. I can offer you no solace." And with that, he walked away.

Isadora and Fiora looked at each other as he disappeared.

"What was that about?" Fiora asked.

Isadora shook her head. "I think... perhaps, he is just a man, like all of us. He has... no more answers than we do."

Fiora was silent for a moment. "...Well," she said finally, "Shall we follow him? He did offer to join us... and anyway, we need to pass these mountains to rejoin the others."

"Right. Let's go, Fiora!" Isadora mounted her horse and began to trot away, in the direction Renault had vanished.

They continued onward for over an hour, but the bishop was nowhere to be seen. Isadora wondered if perhaps their words had caused him to rethink their offer, and he was hiding in some ruins once again. The path was uneventful. No more morphs were in sight, and except for some tumbledown temple remains on their right, there was nothing interesting to see on the path.

Just when Isadora was beginning to doze in the saddle because of the lack of excitement, the frantic beating of wings sounded overhead. Fiora dropped like a thunderbolt into the clearing, looking frazzled.

"We've got more company," she said. "Cavaliers ahead, and a ballista over the hill. Good thing I've got my Delphi Shield with me..."

Isadora picked up her lance. "Good... things were getting a little boring around here. Lead on, Fiora."

But when they reached the clearing where Fiora had spotted the soldiers earlier, they saw nothing but a pile of morph bodies, neatly stacked, and a gray-garbed figure kneeling beside them, apparently praying.

"Bishop Renault?" Isadora asked, halting her horse and hopping from the saddle.

"Ah, Isadora...Fiora..." he greeted them, standing up. "I was just praying for these... soldiers. I do not know if they have souls... but they had a life of sorts, once, so I feel it best to pray, just in case."

Fiora nodded. "That sounds logical..."

"And... about earlier..." he continued. "I may be a poor preacher, but please listen to me now..."

"Of course. What have you to tell us?" Isadora asked.

"...You asked me what you should do. ...How humans can be moral and yet, protect themselves as well... If I could give you one direction, one step along the path... It would be...to let yourself be lost."

"Lost?" Isadora asked, puzzled.

"Forgiving your sins is a small task for a bishop... And if that were enough to save you, I would recite the words. But you suffer... and you seek answers..."

The two women were silent, thinking.

"And that is the greatest pain of all... The pain of doubt. If I dispelled this doubt, I could free you from your pain. But then you would be nothing more than a puppet that kills. Use your doubt. Use it to become something more. I think it makes you...human."

"Bishop Renault..." Fiora began, but trailed off.

"Whether you will ever find answers, I do not know. But you must live with your doubt until then." He smiled. "If you can, then all of the joy and sorrow you experience... will truly belong to you."

"Your Excellency..." Isadora said finally. "So what you're saying is... no one can answer our questions for us... we must answer them ourselves?"

Renault nodded, but sadly. "I believe this... I have lived this way since I found myself... Some are sustained by faith, but for me, so far, there are no answers."

"But I am certain you will find them someday." Fiora said, with conviction. "And if you don't, then perhaps they aren't truly worth worrying about."

Renault was silent. "You are right, Lady Fiora," he said. "Right, as always." He smiled. "Well then, I believe we have an army to rejoin and a dark lord to overthrow?" His eyes twinkled. "Then let us get going!" He started running off toward the hill where Fiora had indicated the ballista lay.

"Your Excellency, wait up!" Isadora called, and mounted her horse, spurring it on after him.

Fiora took one last look at the pile of dead morphs, whispered a prayer to the heavens, and then flew off after her friends.

fin

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I hope it made at least a little bit of sense to you... I sort of mangled Renault and Isadora's support conversations...

Well, please review, and tell me what I can do to improve!