Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The fallen leaves tell a story.

This story is one of many, out of many fallen leaves. And it happens to concern a person called Sorális.

The golden guidance of grace shone upon her once more, and pointed her across the fog, to the lands between.

 

The light blinded her, and her body ached all over, resisting her every move. Her mind however, made her move forward despite that. The grace’s guidance gave her the determination to pick herself up and rise once more.
*
Sorális opened her eyes. She squinted as she was greeted by a bright shining sun amidst a light blue sky. She breathed slowly as she took the atmosphere, and her surroundings in.

She clenched her right fist against the ground, then rubbed her fingers on her palm. The grating sensation of a mass of sand against her skin greeted her. Her ears alerted her to the subtle sound of lapping waves.

She was on a beach, her brain could make out that much. Her leg twitched. A few seconds passed and then it twitched again. No, it wasn't twitching. Something was prodding it.

She managed to sit up with noticeable effort, and as she glanced down, she beheld a black clump of tentacles. A small beak extended out of it's front and the thing was prodding at her legs. She breathed in.

“Eeeeeek!”
*
If only the being had the ability to come back after death it would have known that prodding at Sorális’
leg is an incredibly dangerous and possibly lethal decision.

That however, was not the case, and the girl was enjoying her final roasted tentacle pieces as she put out the fire she started by lazily burying it with sand using her foot.

All that remained of the poor animal was it's beak.

“Serves you right”

Sorális grumbled as she furrowed her brows, staring at the burnt beak.

“You scared me..”
*
With a full belly, and her body now aching slightly less, she decided to pick up anything she could use, and get herself well acquainted with this land. She surmised that asking around would be the course of action most likely to get her positive results.
She was alone on the beach, so she had a clear goal in mind now. Find someone, anyone. The sea in front of her stretched as far as the eye could see. However, not too far away, was a small lush island. A ruined building sat atop it. A shadow of greater days perhaps.

Upon closer inspection, Sorális noticed that there were signs of civilization here, just, decrepit, destroyed. Debris and rubble were strewn across the beach, some small, and some hundreds of times larger than her. She couldn't imagine what the cause of this could’ve been.

Gazing at ruins however, would not get her where she needed to be -wherever that was anyway-, so she set off toward the mainland. The beach she was on was bordered by cliffs on the side of the mainland, but there was a hilly path she could take, that stretched ahead with a gentle incline.

Sorális’ version of navigating included taking in anything of import she could find. As she walked up the hilly path, her attention was diverted to a bush full of ripe-looking red berries. She picked one off the bush and promptly ate it.

“!!!”

She squealed in excitement at the flavor that exploded upon her taste buds. The sour-sweet sensation tingled in her mouth for a while after swallowing the fruit.

“I’ll need to make…” The girl paused as she swallowed a mouthful of red fruit. “A stock of these-”
*
As she reached the end of the hill, she was greeted by a sight that awakened something in her mind. Before her stood a grand tree. She could not tell quite how far away it was, but she knew one thing. It looked perfectly divine. Golden branches spread out, ever-grasping. Golden leaves covered and complemented them.

“Mesmerized by the Erdtree are you, tarnished?”

Sorális dashed backward and stared in the direction of the voice. Her hand was already on her side, but there was nothing there to defend herself with.

“Who are you?”

She said quite coldly, maintaining her distance from the man.

“I am Kalé. A nomadic merchant and purveyor of fine goods.”

The man wore a mask that covered his mouth and nose. On his head he had a red cap, with what made Sorális think of small cotton clouds at the seam. A red coat and cloak as well as brown leather trousers covered his body.

A black mule, loaded with wares on its back slowly made its way to them.

“This is Talla. A helper, and friend”

The man spoke softly.

“What do you want?”

Sorális spat. Remaining on edge.

“It is rare to see a tarnished look as… harmless and kind as you. I could tell you would not be after my throat.”

Sorális kept her act up, backing off carefully.

“How do you know I'm not?”

The man scratched the mule’s back. The beast responded by leaning it's head toward him.

“I noticed you.. on the beach. It would be odd for an unforgiving killer to show sadness after killing an animal out of hunger. It would also be odd for a person like that to childishly chow down Rowa Fruit with such a happy look on their face. In my opinion, at least.”

The man crossed his arms. He seemed satisfied with his array of observations.

“Follow me. I'll cook up something for you.”

Kalé started walking, Talla followed close behind him.

“Hey! I didn't say I'd come with you!”

Sorális yelled out at him.

Chapter Text

“I never agreed to coming with you.”

Sorális mumbled as the fire crackled. The aroma of splendidly spiced meat being cooked was wafting through the air.

The man sent her a sideways look as he turned the meats over on the campfire.

“It seems to me… that you're here despite that?”

Sorális furrowed her brows as she looked at him.

“Listen, someone whose cooking smells like that cannot be out to get me, right?”

Kalé broke into laughter. His eyes lighting up as he chuckled loudly.

“Ohh you must be right! Marika would be cruel if that weren't the case!”

Sorális smiled at him subtly. The man stabbed a piece of meat with a small wooden stake and passed it on to the girl.

“Try this.” He exclaimed quietly.

Sorális did as he said, a bit too eagerly. She grabbed the stake and took a bite off of the piece of meat.

Almost too hot juices spilled out of the chunk. The girl’s eyes lit up as she savored the flavor.

“How could something so simple be so amazing?...”

She said as she still chewed on the chunk.

“It’s all in the spices.”

The man prodded at the burning fire with a stick. He set the now done batch of meat on a small platter, and set it next to the girl.

“So now that I’ve fed you, would you be so kind as to tell me your name? It’s only fair. I told you mine, didn’t I?”

The girl stared back for a moment. Her mouth was full. She remained in silence after swallowing, as if she was lost in thought.

“S… Sora-...Sorális?”

Kalé responded with a look of confusion.

“I might be getting this wrong, but was that a question? Are you unsure of what people call you?”

The man looked at her eyes, and noticed her uncertainty. Her fear, as well as the fact that they were of a deep crimson.

“And- your eyes. Have they always been like that? Are you-”

Kalé paused. not only because he didn’t want to assume the worst about the girl, but because she was crumbling under the pressure. She had set her platter aside, and was fidgeting with her hands.

“I-... Well. I don’t know what to say to you.. Regarding both questions.”

 

Kalé stared at her in disbelief, and perhaps a bit of pity.

“Ahhh, okay okay. Let’s lay off of that matter. But do try to find something to cover your eyes with from others. You might be mistaken for something you're not.”

The girl nodded, keeping her eyes low, staring at the fire.

“Come now. Finish your plate and get ready to lay down. You needn't worry about keeping watch. Talla will warn us if we have unwanted company.”

Sorális nodded once more. She moved further away from the campfire and took the plate with her. Taking a bite of food from it every now and then.

The sun had set an hour ago, and now the moon shone over the lands between. Sorális huffed as she glanced at it and the night sky. Gaining a feeling of melancholy. It was with that feeling that she gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep, leaning against a pillar amidst ruins.

*

The Church of Elleh. That's where Kalé had stationed his shop for now. The remains of a Church to a deity she didn't even know. Seven days had passed since they first met, and Sorális didn't plan on leaving. At least not yet.

The man had gifted her a blank notebook and pen, in which she could write down her experiences in the lands between. Up to this point however, the only thing the notebook’s pages were filled with was all the dishes Kalé prepared, and the fruits and berries Sorális found on trees and shrubs.

The girl sat in a corner of the ruins, scribbling on her notebook. Subtle hoofbeats approached her.

“Good morning Sorális. Easy going?”

Kalé led Talla into the remains of the church. The girl didn't respond. Too absorbed in sketching a picture of a bush of a Rowa bush. The mule made its way to Sorális and pulled her hair with it's lips. Sorális dropped her pen and notebook in her lap and broke into laughter.

“Hiii girl! How have you been?”

She placed a palm on either side of the mule's head and scratched her gently. Baby-talking her during it. Kalé smiled at the sight as he sat down on a rectangular piece of debris

“Could you lend your ear for a moment, Sorális? If you're done playing with Talla of course. I have something to tell you.”

As Kalé set his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, Sorális peeked her head over Talla and nodded.

She made her way to him. Shoving her notebook and pen in her leather pack. She smiled at the man and eagerly awaited his words.

“Good morning to you too”

She said quietly. It seems that she heard him after all. The two had gotten quite close to each other over the days. Kalé spend at least an hour every single night talking to Sorális about his journeys. About the wonderful forests and sea to be seen in Limgrave, about the vast expanse of the swamp in Liurnia of the Lakes. About the golden Altus Plateau, and about the lethal beauty of Caelid.

Other than her interest in food and sketching, Kalé noticed that she was quite a dutiful girl. Always willing to help, and very thorough in completing her jobs. She became an assistant of his, in a way.

“Can you run an errand for me?”

The merchant asked as he prepared the campfire. Flint tapped against steel, producing sparks. Soon enough the tinder caught on fire and the sudden flame started licking on the sticks, working through them.

“Of course, what’ll it be?”

“I need you to go to the Stormfoot Catacombs. I need root resin, and Ghost Glovewort. Both materials are valuable in their own way.”

Sorális looked at him in skepticism.

“Is there a particular reason?...”

Kalé felt a sudden cold rush through him. He had worried her. His mind went through a rush of thoughts, until it stilled. This wasn't something he should feel guilty over.

“I intend to sell them to travelers.”

The girl raised a brow.

“Are you sure?- because you usually sell more than just base materials.”

The man grew tired of her perceptiveness. There were more important issues at hand.

“Yes but it doesn't matter. I'll explain later. I'm in dire need of these items, so hurry.”

Sorális set the backpack on her back and kept her eyes on Kalé.

“Alright. I'll be back shortly. I expect an explanation of your uneasiness.”

Kalé huffed. It was impossible to keep this matter to himself. He waved her away.

“Be safe.”

“I will be”

The girl exclaimed as she took the first steps away from the ruins of the Church of Elleh.

*

A giant dragonfly flew overhead. The loud buzz of it's wings made Sorális’ hairs stand up. She hated these things. One of them sat on her head the other day. Kalé swatted it with a stick and harvested it's head because of the rejuvenating properties it was said to possess.

She moved toward the northeast of the Church. Ruins were strewn around here as well. Once again their presence indicated to her something grand. Those ruins however, did not look like they were part of a building that used to be here and crumbled. It looked as if they were placed there by someone, transported, as if they came out of nowhere.

Sorális’ train of thought was derailed by quiet murmurs. She blinked a few times as she forced herself to return to reality. She looked toward the ruins and noticed a group of scrawny, starved-looking men. Their clothes looked finely made, but they were dirty or in tatters. Some held torches, and others were digging near the ruins. They seemed to be looking for something. The murmurs she heard came from one of those men.
He was standing up straight, staring at her with lifeless eyes.

Those eyes, those darkened pits widened as they studied her. They widened in fear. What did he see in her? What was it that scared him so? Sorális opened her mouth, then closed it. She intended to say something to him, to make him not fear her, but he started running away, toward the church.

“...”

She remained in silence. She would have to ask Kalé about those people later.

Shortly after, she arrived at the Stormfoot Catacombs. Heavy iron doors were already pushed open. A feeling of dread overtook her as she walked past them, but she ignored it. She had a job to do.

Sunlight only made it down the first flight of stairs. Sorális tried to swallow on a dry throat and made her way down. She lit a torch up and held it forward, illuminating the area directly in front of her.

Corpses everywhere, left and right. Specially made ledges for holding them were engraved in the walls. There were bones scattered on the floor. But worst of all, the thing that unsettled her the most were the cat faced statues that were set up all over the place.

After heading straight for a while, Sorális reached a resting room. The far-reaching roots of the Erdtree were coming out of the wall. Many corpses were laid upon them. They looked like a line of desperate people, praying to the Erdtree. Begging for salvation. For rebirth.

The sight was interesting, but it disgusted the girl. And if that wasn't enough, the only pieces of available root resin, had collected directly under the corpses. She took a deep breath and kneeled in order to gather the material, shoving it into a pouch for safe keeping.

“I'll definitely ask Kalé for a second plate tonight…”

She mumbled to herself as she set the pouch into her backpack. As she stood up, she heard a silent grinding behind her. She didn't move. She heard little taps- footsteps behind her. The soft grinding was still there- until everything stopped. Sorális turned around slowly, her hand reaching out toward her side, where she held a dagger.

Her heart stopped when she raised her torch to see further back. The cat statues. Four of them were now blocking her way. They stood with a hunched back, and held forked hatchets in one hand.

She glanced at them, then at her backpack. She needed to grab it and get the hell out of here. Slow, subtle movements. She placed her torch on the ground, and carefully set her backpack on her back.

By the edge of her vision, she noticed a nearly incorporeal-looking flower at the other side of the room. It drooped slightly toward the ground, and emitted a faint glow. It had to be the Ghost Glovewort Kalé needed!

She glanced back at the statues to see if they had moved. No. They stood still. Dagger in hand, Sorális etched closer to the flower in order to harvest it. She reached out her free hand to it. It felt incredibly soft to the touch. Almost as if it would vanish into thin air if she squeezed it. She gently took hold of it and cut it off using her dagger. She set that, too, in a pouch and then put it in her backpack.

She turned her head toward the statues again. Her heart dropped. One of them had moved to the torch, leaning over it. The others had their heads turned toward her as if they were looking at her. The cat statue over the torch produced that grinding sound again, and it moved it's upper body toward the ground until it was on all fours. It tilted it's head and it used it's hand to step on the torch, putting it out. Sorális wanted to run. The darkness engulfed her.

*

No. No. No. She had taken one too many wrong turns. Every corridor looked just like the previous ones did. Thankfully however, her eyes had adapted to the darkness to a remarkable extent. She could basically see clear as day. In a way, it was more comfortable than the daylight.

Despite the revelation of her superior vision in dark places, she was in quite the conundrum. The cat statues were running after her, their feet tapping against the moist catacomb floor. In such a situation, she was uncertain if she would even get out alive. She didn’t have any memory of being a fighter, and was truly frightened. Her heart pounded against her chest without relent. Her whole body was yelling at her to get out of this place. The warning signs that popped into her brain overwhelmed her. They made her want to disappear.

Something made her trip. She fell to the floor with a whimper. She looked around her. It was a tree root. Bodies all over it again. She felt an immeasurable amount of disgust as she noticed them. She felt like giving up. There was nothing else she could do. That’s what she thought in this moment of desperation. What else could she do? She couldn’t fight them. She had to run away.

Before she could move forward to another thought, she heard the sound of a fire springing up suddenly. Setting a pocket of air ablaze. The visuals backed that up. She could barely see, because her eyes were used to the dark, but the room was too bright, in an instant. She squinted at the source of light. She only saw the shadow of a large statue, resembling a feline of some kind, sitting down. It held a large sword, and its head seemed to be damaged. The whole right side of it was missing.

The beast didn't give the girl even a moment of respite. It stood up on its hind legs and started to awkwardly walk toward her, holding its blade up high. Sorális managed to rise to her feet, holding her dagger in one hand. She scrambled her brain for ideas on how to defeat this thing. But nothing came to mind. She felt so small, so useless. The cat statue was finally close enough. Its movements were sluggish. It lugged its blade around as if it were struggling. It raised it, and slashed toward her. The girl had enough time to move out of the way of the strike, but she was shaken to her core by the intensity of the attack. If she got hit by that, she would’ve been cut clean in half.

The statue readied itself for another attack. It assumed its usual sitting position, before levitating slowly, and moving upward, over the girl. It then slammed down, with its blade pointed downward, as if it was a king passing a death sentence. Sorális tumbled away, crashing into the floor. She scraped her knee badly. She gritted her teeth, grunting. She got up again, despite the pain, and stared the statue down.

“Come AT me you pile of rubble!”

She yelled at it in a fury. Her wounds made her more violent, more inclined to… Kill. This focused mind of hers was now able to devise a plan to defeat the statue. There were six supporting pillars strewn across this room. She assumed that they supported the ceiling. She stood next to one of them and held her dagger tightly. The statue moved again. This time it dashed forward with its blade. It struck the pillar, which almost came loose.

 

“Tsk”

The girl clicked her tongue in annoyance. As the statue was recoiling, she gathered all of her strength and kicked at the loosened pillar, which fell on top of the statue, and pinned it to the ground.
The thing couldn't move anymore, so the girl approached it. It looked at her with its one expressionless eye. The one that remained on the face it had left. She stuck the dagger into its disfigured head with all of the strength she had in her. The statue didn’t move. Moments later, the fire on its tail was extinguished. The girl pulled the dagger back out, and let out a sigh. She sat down on the floor. She’d need a rest after this.

Chapter Text

Leyndell, Royal Capital. A week before current events.

Raphael

 

The Erdtree shone over the lands between as it did for all of Raphael’s life. Whenever he saw it like this, up close, in all it's splendor, he couldn't help but be in awe of it's divine presence.

He and his company had been asked to appear before the king in order to receive new orders. They walked up the final stairs to the throne room, and had a view of the whole capital. Gransax, the greatest ancient dragon still lay there slain as a part of the architecture, spanning almost half of the city. Alabaster buildings were built under and around his body.

Raphael’s heart raced intensely as his group neared the entrance to the throne room. Two very large knights in golden, intricately made armor stood guard, golden halberds crossed over the entrance.

“We've arrived by request of king Morgott. We're here to receive orders”

A voice said dryly. Raphael knew the person who spoke quite well. Knight-Commander Serosh. Named after the first Elden Lord's great lion.

The two large knights didn't respond to him. They did however, uncross their halberds to let the company through. One of them pushed the large wooden door open, revealing the throne room. Commander Serosh walked in first. Raphael was frozen in place, still not believing that he got to see the mysterious king Morgott of Leyndell. Serosh looked back at him through the slits of his helm.

“Get a move on, Raphael.”

This brought the man back into reality. He walked forward, through the gates. The rest of the company followed. The throne room was vast. At least ten other companies could fit in it with ease, and Serosh’s company was twenty men strong. Enchanting alabaster balustrades and arches lines the perimeter of the throne room. There were no walls, and one could see the whole Royal Capital from here. King Morgott sat on a marble throne. Intricately carved tree-like patterns lay under the armrests. His stature was great and imposing, his body and face were covered by a hooded robe accented with a gold lining. Embroidered over it was a golden scene displaying the greatness of the Erdtree.

The company walked toward the king. Gold-Armored knights, with green-crested helms stood to his left and right, ever-vigilant.

“Knight-Commander Serosh.”

The king spoke. His voice kind and gentle.

The commander kneeled. So did the rest of the soldiers and knights. Raphael, startled by the fact that he was the only one still standing, followed suit in haste.

“My king.”

Serosh responded in his gravelly voice, his head held low.

“You may rise, Serosh. I wish to discuss with you thine mission.”

The knight stood up, as the king suggested. The rest of the company still knelt.

“I am tasking thee with a mission of utmost importance…”

The king’s voice commanded authority. He stood, in order to get across, the fact that what he was saying was not to be taken lightly.

“It is a fact we all know well that the Erdtree must be protected. Queen Marika’s Golden Order must remain untouched.”

King Morgott took in a deep breath as he kept standing tall.

“However… Tarnished warriors have been returning from beyond the fog. They are in search of the Elden Ring. In order to become Elden Lord. Thine company is to set out and hunt down the foolish tarnished before they even reach our Royal Capital.”

Serosh’s sharp eyes were on the king. Unyielding.

“My king… Would it not be wise to question their intentions first-”

“Thine orders are not to be questioned! You will set out immediately. If thou come upon a tarnished, capture them, or kill them if needs be.”

Raphael’s heart dropped at the order. The king was ordering them to kill people. They had to kill people regardless of whether they truly were a threat to the Erdtree or not. Serosh however, could do naught but accept it and move on. Him questioning the king could already be seen as a form of treason, had Serosh not been such a loyal knight to the king.

“Understood, your grace. I will carry out your orders to the utmost of my ability.”

Serosh knelt once more.

*

“So we’re doing this? We’re actually going through with the mission?”

Raphael asked Serosh as they walked through a crowded street of the capital.

“Do you see any other choice I am not aware of?”

The boy huffed. The company was heading to a tavern to grab a drink before being dispatched to Limgrave.

“It's just like it was with them poor Misbegotten, Serosh.”

Serosh flashed a warning look at Raphael for saying what he did.

“What?-”

“Poor Misbegotten? Don't make me laugh, Raph. They show signs of the primordial crucible. This borders on heresy.”

Another knight spoke. The third and final knight in the company. Ser Wyll.

“You really ought to get this boy in line, Serosh. He can't be heard saying such things around others.”

Ser Wyll continued speaking as the company neared the tavern.

“We’ll teach him over drinks. Truth be told, there is no better time for talking than over drinks, lad.”

A commoner opened the door for them. The three knights were the first to walk through it. A serving girl approached them.

“Welcome to the Cup of Gransax! What can I get for you, noble knights?”

Serosh kept his light blue eyes on the girl but for a moment, before Wyll gave him a sly smile.

“Fancy yourself a serving wench, commander?”

Serosh’s eyes narrowed on the knight. Wyll laughed it off as the girl pursed her lips in awkwardness.

“Please excuse this one. He has yet to learn manners.”

Serosh’s sharp eyes took on a kinder look as he spoke to the girl. Raphael could not remember seeing that often. To save the situation, the boy decided to order first.

“I'd like a cup of Golden Rowa Cider, please.”

The girl nodded in response to show that she heard him. Serosh ordered plain ale, so did Wyll. By the time Raphael was having his third sip of his cider, the other knights were on their fifth mug of ale each.

“And you see, saying things like that is heresy, because they are accursed Misbegotten scum, and must be given no mercy.”

Wyll explained to Raphael after gulping down another mug of ale.

“Yeah. I see “

No use arguing with him. Or any firm golden order believers. He had heard it many times before. How there was only one true god, Queen Marika the eternal, and that anything that fell out of her Golden Order, was foul and utterly imperfect.

“What a close-minded belief system…”

He huffed out.

“WHAT?”

Wyll barked out, standing up. Serosh butted in to calm him down.

“Wyll- you know that Raph can hardly handle his drink. He's only a boy after all, handed a knighthood as a favor!”

He playfully slapped his palm on Wyll’s shoulder guard. The other knight begrudgingly sat down.

“If I ever catch you speaking like that again, lad, your commander won't be able to save you from the beating I'll give you. “

Raphael wanted to say something that would most likely get him in trouble, but he just nodded instead.

“Aye, sir.”

 

*

Limgrave. Current events.
Sorális

 

“Ouch… ow… ow … OW- Hey- watch it Kalé! You know- I WANT to be able to use my legs later-”

Sorális complained, squirming.

“I would not believe that such a childish girl would be capable of defeating a burial watchdog had I not actually known you.”

The girl smiled at his remark. Kalé was tying a bandage around the girl’s scraped knee. She had no significant wounds other than that. This was something he was quite thankful for. He had been struck with guilt ever since she returned to him wounded. She could have been badly hurt, or worse, she could have died.

“What's on your mind?”

She asked, bringing him back from his thoughts. He glanced at her, remaining in silence.

“I’m lamenting a mistake I made”

He simply explained.

Sorális tilted her head, crimson eyes staying on his own.

“What exactly would that mistake be? Sending me to the catacombs for the resin and Glovewort? To tell you the truth, I assumed that you knew I'd be safe.”

Kalé’s eyes lit up at that statement.

“So I thought, Sorális, so I thought. I was quite certain that the watchdog would not be functioning.”

The fire crackled as fresh firewood was placed into it by Sorális. The girl was readying a few slivers of meat for herself. She had learnt how to do it by now.

“Based on what?”

Sorális inquired calmly as she poked at the fire impatiently. She knew that it wouldn't magically burn faster, but that didn't stop her from giving into the impulse.

“A tarnished came by a few weeks ago. He defeated that watchdog, or so he said. Apparently he was in search of runes.”

The girl stared at him blankly. She knew not what runes, or finger maidens were. Kalé smiled at her subtly as he knew that stare, and continued.

“Plainly put, runes are power. All living beings have had at least some of them ever since they were dispersed during the Shattering of the Elden Ring by Queen Marika, who sought to be set free of the control of the Greater Will. Or so it is said at the very least.”

Sorális continued to stare at him blankly.

“Well- either way! I thought that the man defeated the watchdog back then.”

Still, despite the explanation, this didn't feel as reason enough for Sorális to potentially die. He was almost left alone again, and once more, by his own wrongdoing. He almost lost it all as soon as he found his people again, his purpose. The thing that held him back from losing his mind-

“Ah-”

Kalé gasped. The girl had set her hand on his shoulder.

“Hey… don't lose yourself in it. It's no use doing that. Believe me, I'd know. I did that, and now it hurts to think back to everything that made me… me.”

Kalé said nothing.

“I'll be by your side until you're ready to talk about it. And if I remember what keeps me down, I will be certain to tell you about it. Is this a promise?”

The merchant forced a smile at first, but as he glanced at Sorális, and saw her sincerety, his smile became genuine, it reached his eyes.

“It's a promise.”

He huffed out and he could swear that am amount of his pain left with it.

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Sorális, Limgrave, Agheel Lake

Her knee had stopped hurting a few days ago. Limgrave was starting to look much more hopeful, to her at least. There were times though, such as right now, that it looked as if it was beyond help. Agheel Lake, Kalé had called the vast expanse of ankle-high water. It was East of the church of Elleh, and Sorális was here scavenging for any food ingredients or materials she could give to Kalé for selling. She had no luck with that yet, but that only meant that she would keep on trying.

The reason why this place looked so devoid of hope was because of the horrible conditions in which people lived here. Scorched, decrepit buildings, flooded houses and overgrown streets. Worst of all of these though, was the absence of hope in the eyes of the people. They all looked at her with those empty eyes. Why were they living like that? She couldn't help but question it. The world was vast. They could leave, no?

She continued East of the burnt and ruined town. The water splashed around her feet as she walked, sloshing in and out of her boots. She approached the end of the lake, going farther than she ever had before. This was a day for exploring, so she had decided. She took Kalé’s advice to wear something to cover her eyes, so during the daytime, she wore a hood. This made it easier for her eyes as well, as she noticed that oftentimes they hurt after being exposed to direct sunlight for too long.

After what felt like a hell of a long time, she reached actual ground again. Short grass spread ahead of her once more, over alternating plains. More ruins of that same olden architecture were spread all around. One piece of ruins specifically caught her eye. It looked like part of a grand rotunda’s wall, and it lay there, arched over the ground, blocking the light from going beneath it.

In the darkness that this rubble created, she could see the light of a lit fire. It reminded her of her home at the church of Elleh. She should go home after investigating this, as she'd decided to do.

She approached the campfire, slowly walking toward it. Someone was sitting by it. A man, she assumed due to his build. He wore a domed iron hat, which reached its end in a point on the top of his head. The rest of it's surface almost covered his whole head. It was an iron version of a large straw hat. Sorális found the hat specifically to be weird, weirdly Interesting. He also wore a leather vest, with metal shoulder guards, and silver-colored bracers over his arms. His legs were protected by heavy-looking iron greaves.

The man’s head moved, the hat rotating with it. He had definitely seen her by now, but he made no move to prepare himself for combat.

 

“Tarnished.”

The man spoke calmly.

“Be warned. A dragon roosts in this lake. I took you for a madman when I saw you walking through those ruins.”

Sorális kept her face hidden under her hood. The man had just warned her, but Kalé told her that things may not be as they seem. He told her that most people would fear her, and many would be out for her blood. She didn't want to risk it and see if that was true.

The man stood still. An awkward silence hung in the air.

“Do you not speak?”

The man asked as he stood up, his hand reaching for the long blade at his hip. He was getting wary of her. She had to diffuse this.

“I do!-”

She blurted out suddenly, her voice cracking quite embarrassingly. She even raised her hands as a sign of good intentions. The man let the silence hang on for another moment, before snorting, then chuckling, and breaking into a laughing fit. The girl stood there, her face getting redder by the second, as the man kept on laughing at her.

“Oh- Alright alright- You can talk!”

Sorális hid her face even further into her hood.

“It's rude to laugh at me like that when you barely know me you know”

The girl grumbled.

Just like her

He thought to himself. Then he berated himself for thinking of her like that. Thinking of her as if she was still the same person. He had one goal and that goal was clear.

“I apologize for my forwardness. You reminded me of someone I once knew.”

The girl acted like her, but it was apparent that she was different. She didn't sound like her, and she definitely didn't look like her. Black hair, full lips, pale skin. Those were the features he could see under the girl’s black cloak, and none of them matched the features of his Eleonora.

“My name is Yura” he continued. “And you are?”

The girl huffed out her embarrassment before speaking.

“My name is Sorális. It's nice to meet you.”

She moved closer and extended her arm toward him. Yura hesitated upon hearing her name. He shook her hand nonetheless.

Could it really be her? This is just a girl… Could she be impersonating the Bloody Finger?

“It's nice to meet you too.”

He replied, the casual feeling in his tone fading.

“Girl. If you're who you say you are, that means I have business with you.”

He set his hand on his katana’s handle, his eyes a deep well of hatred. His gaze seethed with fury as he unsheathed his katana. Sorális gasped. stepping back and raising her hands.

 

“I mean… no harm”

Death was close now. As it was back in the catacombs. As it always was back then… Back when she was forced to be someone else.

“I am a hunter of the followers of the Lord of Blood.I am Yura, of the land of reeds. My purpose is to exterminate you, and your cessblood. If you truly ARE Sorális, the Pale Bloody Finger.”

He pointed his katana toward her. The blade was much longer than any sword Sorális had ever seen. In length, it was closer to a spear than a sword.
She didn’t understand why he reacted this way when she told him her name. She didn’t understand the root of his hatred. She didn’t understand why she was so hated. Why she had to be killed, and what exactly tied her to those Bloody Fingers.

“I share a name with one of them. So what? I’m not a Bloody Finger whatever that is. I’m only here because I wanted to see the world. I wanted to see what was further away from my home! And then I met you- a crazed lunatic obsessed with killing.”

The girl took her hood off as she yelled her feelings out at him, revealing her crimson eyes and straight black hair. Yura didn’t make a move. The fury in his eyes remained, but he lowered his blade.

“I’m not who you say I am. I’m not a Bloody Finger.”

She repeated to him. Her eyes told him all he needed to know. The girl was telling the truth. Or at least what she thought the truth to be. Maybe the cessblood could be purified. Maybe there was hope for his Eleonora.

“Once again, I apologize. Allow me to take you back to your camp.”

Sorális kept her serious gaze for a moment, then looked away from him.

“I suppose that would be enough for me to start forgiving your accusation.”

*

Raphael, Agheel Lake North

Guilt and regret. He had caused so much suffering to others. Under the king’s orders, but he did it nonetheless. He captured many tarnished with the company during the trip from the capital. He killed some. And others, he had to kill more than once. Those guided by grace were after all bound to be reborn by the very Erdtree itself.

He could see them now. All of them. He could hear their cries for help, their pleading. Their final breaths as they choked on their own blood. Knight-Commander Serosh would say it over and over again. Such is the King’s Decree, and thus, it must be this way. Raphael couldn't help but wonder whether or not the commander said that to make him, or himself feel better.

He saw a girl standing upon an endless expanse of water. He struggled to approach, to make his way to her. He hoped she wasn’t tarnished. Hoped he wouldn't have to kill her, too. She was wearing a black hooded cloak, and her legs were ankle-deep in the water. He was so captivated by her presence that he could only keep on moving toward her, pulling himself through the water.

Her head turned as he splashed through the lake, his armor weighing him down. Red crimson eyes rested upon him. He felt as if they laid him bare. As if they knew everything that he had done. Not only that, but those eyes also knew what it was like. Those eyes knew his pain, as they condemned them for the cause of it. His actions.

His chest felt heavy as he was overcome with emotion. This wasn’t who he wanted to be. He didn’t want to be a killer. A murderer. The girl turned away. He reached a hand toward her, feeling his strength giving out. His golden armor rusted and decayed as she walked away. It weighed on him even more. He started to sink deeper into the lake. The mud pulled him in. He tried to scream but his lungs were full of water.

Raphael sprang awake in his tent, slamming his head on an overhead wooden beam.

“OW-”

The man cried out in pain. He set his hand on his forehead and rubbed at it. That was going to start swelling soon. No one else was in the tent. Had he overslept?

He heard commotion from outside so he jumped off of the upper bunk and suited up. He felt awkward wearing his armor after that dream. The great tree depicted on his green cape meant a lot, both to him, and everyone else in these lands. But yet again, he wondered about the order’s perfection.

Raphael squinted as he walked outside of the tent. It wasn't the sun that needed adjusting to, but the brightness of the divine Erdtree. Like the alleged perfection of the great tree, his mental state was almost always in great condition. This day however, he could barely manage a coherent thought.

“Well look who’s up boys! The butter knight himself!”

The soldiers laughed in an uproar at Ser Wyll’s new nickname for Raphael. Raphael rolled his eyes and walked past the knight further into the camp. A wooden barricade-wall was built around the camp, with multiple tents set up for the soldiers to sleep in. This was something that the soldiers built in just a day. It was crude, but organized.

“Commander Serosh! We have another one.”

A soldier ran past Raphael and made his way to the commander, who was sharpening the blade of his axe with a whetstone. The commander sighed a breath out as the soldier neared. The man stood up, his white mane of hair laying on his upper back in braids.

“Dead or alive?”

The commander grumbled as he walked toward the soldier.

“Alive, Sir. He’s being brought in now.”

Two other soldiers approached, one holding the tarnished’s arms, and the other his legs. They dropped him off in front of the commander, and stood by. The man was wearing a heavy iron armor, with dents and burn marks on it. His face and visible skin were scorched all over. He coughed up blood as he stared up at the commander.

“Think you can kill me huh knight? I’ll be back y’know. I’ll be back and I’ll kill each and every one of you.”

Commander Serosh kneeled in front of the man, drawing a knife from a small leather sheath on his side. The blade was ominously black, like obsidian, and it looked like it was scorching with a subtle, yet hot red flame.

“You are charged with the murder of a soldier of the royal army of Leyndell. Tarnished. You will not be coming back.”

He brandished the blade with a serious gaze. The tarnished man’s eyes widened. His mouth was agape. He struggled to reach his waist with his hand, pulling a knife of his own out of it. With a quick motion, he thrust it toward his neck, but a soldier pressed down on his arm before he could.

“NO- NO It’s not- it can’t be-”

The man struggled, thrashing around, yet the commander stood still, staring at him. The tarnished continued to fight, but then, commander Serosh abruptly caught his free arm with an iron grip, and shoved the black dagger into the man’s heart.

The struggle stopped. And within moments, the man displayed no signs of life. Serosh sighed. He stood up once more, wiping the blade on a cloth provided by a soldier, and sheathing it.

“Clean this mess up. Crucify his body as an example. King’s orders.”

A soldier dragged the body away. The others present followed to help with the crucifiction.
Serosh turned to face Raphael. He gave him a grim smile.

“Good morning, boy. Sleep well?”

Raphael kept his eyes on his commander, not speaking. Serosh nodded. Seemingly already understanding the boy’s feelings.

“It has to be done, lad. If not by us, then by other knights. The stability of the order is at stake. These people put our way of life at risk.”

The boy nodded.

“With all due respect Sir. Do you truly believe that? Do you truly believe in the cause? Living and dying for the demigods? Are you truly a righteous man? Or is this all feigned? Saying that it's the king’s orders is just you trying to make up excuses for yourself isn't it?”

The commander stilled. His cold blue eyes gained a certain warmth. Raphael immediately regretted what he said.

“Yes, boy. I believe in King Morgott.”

He spoke calmly. A deep sigh allowed him to continue. Tiredness stemmed from the man.

“I cannot give you an answer to all of those questions, lad. I follow the orders because of my reasons, and thus, to me… To me it is just.”

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. He had already overstepped. It would be best if he didn't prod further.

“Yes. I too, feel the guilt…”

Raphael glanced at the commander in surprise. He looked at Serosh, the proud lion of Leyndell, the man who had slain countless enemies and outlaws in battle. One who would never be forgotten by the people. But what he truly saw was a tired knight, pushed to the length of his mental fortitude. Over… what?

“Killing people never gets any easier, boy. No matter the reason, it is something we can never return from.”

Serosh took note of Raphael's silence. He gave him a pat on the shoulder and spoke.

“This is no time for these things. Let's talk about it later over a drink, alright?”

The boy managed a subtle smile.

“Alright Sir.”

The commander seemed to regain his usual look. His eyes now a mask of pure calmness. Raphael heard heavy footsteps behind him. Multiple people.

“Serosh. We’re going to investigate a church nearby. Might be we'll find some of em’ praying to Marika’s tits eh?”

Wyll said with his gravelly voice. His soldiers laughed heartily.

“Should I take the butter knight with me?”

The commander nodded, looking at Raphael.

“Go on, lad. It's about time you joined the others. You're late for today.”

Reluctant at first, he picked himself up. He knew not what he would do if it came down to killing again, but his interaction with the commander gave him hope.

He joined the others, partaking in their banter, where he was most often the butt of the joke. He did however, find some of their jokes to be funny. While he did think Wyll had his head up his own ass, he had to admit that his group was at least tolerable.

*

Lord of blood’s Palace

 

Ahhh the lord of blood's domain never changed. If it did, it was only for the better.

A tainted hellscape to most, but to a select few a safe haven, their home, and their salvation. The birthplace of the Mohgwyn Dynasty, hidden deep underground. Friends of Mohg, the Lord of Blood.

A man wearing black robes accented with red and gold walked up the steps of the palace. Pale people all around him bowed as he walked. Their bodies harbored many fresh and old cuts. Pathways for the offerings to the Lord.

On each side of the man’s robes lay a blood soaked serrated knife with an intricately curving shape. The people stared at them with fearful reverence, for they were gifts from the lord, since the man was one of his chosen. One who could accept the Lord’s divine blood.

The man reached an altar halfway up the palace. He knew that the Lord was further up. He could feel it. He could feel the gift writhing in his veins. He could also feel another bearing the gift. It was the one he had come to see. A man dressed in pure white robes, wearing an expressionless white mask. He stood at the base of the altar, in front of a large marble bowl. He too held a visually striking weapon. It looked like a bouquet of flowers. It was however made to draw blood. Each petal was made out of razor sharp steel.

The white clothed man held his bouquet over the bowl. Blood flowed from the weapon endlessly, as if it was stored in it. When the blood’s flow changed into a slow drip, he turned around. The man's red eyes were stuck in perpetual elation.

“Ahhh- Nerijus… You've come.”

The white clothed man said as he raised his hands in a welcoming gesture. Nerijus now stood in front of the man. He took his weapons off of the latch that held them on to his waist, and raised them over the marble bowl, now half full with blood. Both blades bled into the bowl for a few seconds, and then stopped.

“Your offering is lacking today, Nerijus. It would please me if you showed greater interest in the aspirations of our Lord, luminary Mohg.”

Nerijus instantly took a knee in front of the man.

“Varrè. I vow to return with greater offerings. This will not happen again.”

Varrè clicked his tongue. Nerijus raised his hand toward him, his palm facing upwards. Varrè pulled it toward the bowl and held it there, tightening his grip. He then pressed his “bouquet” into Nerijus’ palm.
The man screamed as streams of crimson splashed into the bowl. If Nerijus could see behind Varrè’s white mask, he would be able to see his wicked smile.

“The Lord will be quite satisfied with such an offering.”

Varrè finally let go of the man’s arm. Nerijus was breathing rapidly, holding on to his wounded arm. A few moments later he stood up slowly, biting his lower lip to avoid whimpering.

“I am glad to hear that. Now... You called for me, Varrè”

Varrè chuckled at Nerijus’ attempt to hide his pain.

“The Pale Bloody Finger is back…”

He stated calmly. Nerijus’ eyes widened as he heard that.

“Is it certain?”

He asked the White Mask.

“Of course. Everything I say is a certainty my lambkin.”

Nerijus stood silent in confusion.

“Why are you telling me about that though?”

Varrè clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Simple. You will go retrieve her. She is in Limgrave. It seems that she frequents the Church of Elleh.”

Nerijus took his hood off, showing Varrè his face. Jet black hair reached his shoulders, and striking crimson eyes, shared among all the fingers, stared into the mask.

“How?... I don't stand a chance against the Pale Finger.”

Varrè chuckled once more.

“Oh, lambkin. I wouldn't have sent you after her if I believed that. It seems like she has forgotten her past with us. Our dear subordinate has lost herself. I ask that you remind her who she is. If she doesn't remember… you are free to end her life. Her blood would be a wonderful offering for the Lord.”

Nerijus’ doubt faded out of his face, and that was enough for Varrè to know that his plan was set in motion.

“I take it that you're certain about it now. Wonderful. Get to it then.”

The White Mask dissolved into a pool of blood. He was slowly lowered into it until he was there no longer. The pool then faded out of existence. Nerijus followed, dissolving into one as well.

*

Sorális, Church of Elleh

Kalé was sitting down by the campfire. Sorális had left about an hour ago, and he was starting to get worried. Talla was also acting uneasy. She was pawing at the floor repeatedly, and staring in the direction of the lake Sorális went to.

“She's alright Talla. She's a strong girl. She'll be on time for our meal.”

The merchant set a few slivers of meat over the fire. He sprinkled spices over them and set his poker to the side after stirring the coals that produced a lively fire.

Talla’s ear twitched and turned around, scanning for sounds. Then, Kalé heard it too. Footsteps. In quick succession. They got louder and louder. A moment after that, Sorális appeared. Kalé smiled brightly at the sight, and Talla brayed.

“Kalé! Talla!”

Sorális ran straight for the merchant and hugged him tightly as she reached him. Talla lowered her head toward them and tugged on Sorális' hood. Sorális burst into laughter, falling down on the ground.

“You've found a family, Sorális. So it seems.”

Yura spoke as he walked into the ruined church. He smiled at the girl and the sight he beheld. It gave him hope. Maybe all isn't lost.

“I have to go now. I'm searching for a certain someone. Good luck to you all.”

Yura waved a hand and walked back toward the lake.

“Thank you for keeping her safe!”

Kalé yelled after him. Yura raised his hand in a waving motion once more. Sorális squinted her eyes at Kalé.

“He didn't keep me safe, he just accompanied me.”

The merchant chuckled at the girl’s statement, patting her shoulder.

“Sure, sure. Now tell me all about this Yura, and the little trip you had to the lake.”

He served her a few pieces of meat on a plate. As per usual, the girl stuffed her mouth with food, so it took her a while to actually start talking about her day. Eventually however, she did. And she told Kalé all about Yura the hunter of Bloody Fingers. As well as the ruins in Agheel Lake. Kalé shared some information of his own about the Land of Reeds, where Yura is from. About how the Land fell into a civil war, and a select few escaped. They spoke like this for a while. This was their normalcy. And though Sorális felt safe here, it wouldn't remain this way for long.

*

Sorális found herself laying on a rooftop made out of dark bricks. As she adjusted to her surroundings, she looked up, and beheld a night sky so beautiful it would make anyone stop and gaze at it for hours on end. Bright milky white stars were scattered over the vast expanse, and a tell of a sunrise loomed beyond the horizon. For some reason, Sorális knew it was fake. She knew that the sun would never rise for her, or for her people. She knew that they would most likely remain where they were, under the fake stars.

 

The stars may have been fake, but it didn't matter to her. This place was home. It was safe, and that's all that mattered to her. Right… it was safe. But then-

Sorális heard a sound next to her. Black robes, accented with red and gold. Whatever this was, it towered over her. It's head was a tangle of horns, and it's razor sharp teeth protruded out of it's mouth. In one pitch black hand it held a long trident with black spikes. The other hand, it stretched out to her. Sorális accepted before she could think too much about it. Maybe she did it because her people wanted to escape the lie. Maybe this would be their champion. Their salvation.

I welcome you… to the birthplace of our dynasty. Mohgwyn…

It pricked her finger with one of it's talons. She felt it coursing into her. Cursed blood. No. It wasn't only her. The blood was seeping into her home. Her safe place. It dripped down the walls… into the streets. It would save them wouldn't it? This was just part of it's plan. No. His plan. Lord Mohg. Her master. He would save her people.

She looked around her again, her people were all kneeling around her and the Lord. Their bodies were beaten and battered. Their faces contorted. Visages of perpetual agony. She pulled away from the Lord to help them, but he didn't let go of her. Dark feathered wings spread open over his back. Sorális' eyes widened in fear, yet she felt awe. Her legs trembled, yet she stood before him.

Moments later, the Lord disappeared. Leaving behind pain and blood. Her people desperately reached for her now, arms outstretched. Sorális looked away. This was a burden she could not bear. She scanned around for her lord, but he was nowhere to be found. She looked up at the sky, averting her gaze from the pale creatures that once were her kin. She felt it, while looking at the fake stars. The Lord was with her. Within her. He was the blood and the blood was him. So he let it take her. Let it take her to him. In response to her making up her mind, deep crimson pooled under her feet. It became a bottomless lake and it engulfed her fully. Here, she was in a sea full of the accursed and the reviled. She was one with what was hated, but she was finally not different. Crimson drifted to her eyes, seeping into them. It overwrote her original ice blue hue.

A gift, signifying your allegiance to me.

And for that she felt thankful. Here, she was safe. Here, she was strong. She was one with her Lord. One with her savior. Her people's champion. She would gladly stay here forever, if not for an irritating nudge. She felt herself drift away into another time.
She heard a voice that was not familiar to her, not until way later.

Sorális… Sorális!

Her crimson eyes darted open. She saw Kalé over her, frantic.

“Sorális- we have to leave, NOW. Soldiers. They're capturing people!”

The girl sat up slowly, confused.

“Kalé, what are you-”

The sound of tough iron tapping against stone bumped into her ears.

“Well, well, well. Butter knight, come over here! There's another one.”

A knight. Fully armed and in plate, golden armor. He wore a greathelm with a crest displaying the great tree. Another knight followed. Same armor. He held his helmet in one hand. Brown eyes, short brown hair. He didn't look the part. His eyes were kind. He tilted his head as he looked at Sorális. His mouth opened as if he'd made a grim realization.

Chapter Text

“You-...”

Raphael muttered. His eyes locked on Sorális. The girl looked back at him, tilting her head and making a face.

“Do I… know you?”

Ser Wyll took a step forward. The rest of the soldiers swarmed the ruins. The group now numbered eight in total, counting the knights as well.

“Do you know this girl butter knight?”

Wyll’s voice came out of the helmet slightly muffled. He held his shield high and his blade at the ready. His soldiers surrounded Sorális and Kalé. Talla was starting to panic, looking at the soldiers one by one.

“Yes- I mean… no. No.”

Raphael explained.

“Alright then. Cuff her up lads. If she resists, kill her.”

Kalé dashed forward, in front of Sorális. Talla lay further ahead still, walking toward any soldier that approached, fending them off.

“Let her go! Whatever you're accusing her of, she's innocent!”

Kalé yelled out at them, keeping Sorális behind him. His hands trembled, and beads of sweat formed on his temples, but he stood his ground nonetheless.

“We've no qualms with you, merchant. Your people have paid their dues to the order. Step out of the way and no harm will come to you.”

The soldiers moved closer, but the mule charged at them, shoving its head toward them and pushing them back every time.

“Aghhh lads, are you seriously struggling with a gods damned donkey?”

One of the soldiers fell down as Talla pushed him backward. The mule brayed at him loudly, adamantly standing her ground.

“Alright. Damn it all.”

Wyll walked toward the mule with steady steps. His golden greaves crunching bits of gravel beneath them. He raised his great-sword high as he stood before the beast, and it lit up with holy light, reminiscent of the great tree. The blade lowered with great speed, leaving behind a flash of gold as Talla crumbled. Her head and body had parted.

“NOOO!”

Sorális cried out, stumbling forward. Kalé was too shocked to speak. He only lay there frozen. His shaking hands reached for the girl.

“Sorális… y-you should just… run away… I'll hold them off for a moment.”

Sorális looked back at the merchant in desperation. Tears welled up in her eyes. Eyes that betrayed pain.

“Just like theater back in the capital, right lads?”

The soldiers laughed at the display of care and trust.

“I won't say it again, merchant. If you value your life, give her up.”

Kalé moved forward once more, taking Sorális into his arms.

“NO! You won't take her from me! I won't let you take her from me! Not her too… you people… you… you've already done too much harm. LET US BE ALREADY!”

The older knight huffed out. A tinge of annoyance showed in his face. He walked toward them, dropping his sword and shield to the ground. As soon as he was close enough, he slammed a mailed fist into Kalé's face- sending the merchant crashing into a pile of rubble. Kalé groaned as he crumbled into the rocks.

“So…ra…”

He coughed loudly and remained very still. Too still. The girl kept her eyes on him. Tears now streamed down her face, wetting her cheeks.

“Take them.”

Wyll ordered as he walked away, past Raphael, who was stuck there, staring.

Soldiers dragged Kalé away. Sorális was also escorted away moments later, by a soldier on each side. She completely resigned to the situation. There was a horse-drawn cart just outside of the church. The girl shut her eyes tightly as she was picked up to be set into the cart like baggage. Her life was out of her control once more.

*

A fire crackled sporadically. People were camped around it within the forest. Four men and two women. Nerijus saw their weapons. All of them were armed, and all of them were definitely dangerous. Tarnished, he guessed. They had a nomadic merchant among them. One whose people were spurned and slaughtered many years. None else but a tarnished would be in the company of someone so reviled and hated.

He watched over the group through thick vegetation. He had to go over their weapons and capabilities. He knew he had to, but his knife. His Reduvia quivered as it thirsted for blood. A hand set on his hip calmed the blade as he stilled completely to get a better look. His eyes darted all around the camp. The tarnished sat around the fire. One woman, a redhead, wore light black leather armor. She had a dagger sheathed on her hip and spoke loudly to a man beside her that wore a set of intricate silver coated armor. His helmet was in the lap of the merchant who was studying it's details. The two other men were standing, armored in leather, talking to each other by the edge of the camp. The last person… the other woman. He could have sworn he saw her somewhere. He sighed quietly after taking a deep breath.

Something felt wrong. His throat was swollen. His lungs were burning. He rasped as he stumbled back, retreating.

“I saw you… did you really think you would get the jump on us while I was around?”

The other woman. He turned and looked at her through a thick green mist. She wore a piece of cloth that covered her nose and mouth, and held a staff, on which the catalyst was brightly shining green.

Nerijus bursted into action. His twin blood-blades a red blue as he whirled around, readying a great spinning strike. The woman stepped back, unsheathing a long rapier. Brown locs waved backwards as she deflected Nerijus’ attack. Or so she thought. The man smiled wickedly as his second dagger thrust forward, under the woman’s rapier and directly into her stomach.

The woman gasped in surprise as she pushed Nerijus away. The blade ripped out violently, ripping and rending flesh. Blood dripped out of her as if it was a river.

“The poison… it should have taken effect by now…”

She muttered as she set her hand on a necklace over her chest. She spoke quietly, muttered, no. She was praying. Nerijus went to take a step but noticed a certain tardiness. That poison she mentioned. He must have inhaled it earlier. It had spread to most of his body by now.

Finding it difficult to move toward her, Nerijus could only watch as the necklace she held within her palm now shone brightly. The color of the Erdtree’s divine light. The divine aura surrounded her, and the pained expression on her face settled to a relieved one as the gape on her stomach mended.

“A believer, are you?” Nerijus spoke as he moved toward her, despite the poison. “Well… so am I..”
He pulled the right sleeve of his robe up and revealed to her definitive proof that his lord, his god, had given him a true blessing. It was a long scar that ran up his wrist all the way to the underside of his elbow, disappearing under the robe. The scar was bright red and pulsed ominously. Nerijus smiled as he traced a finger over the scar.

“The Lord has gifted me as such… beautiful, isn't it?”

The woman grimaced in disgust as she saw the scar. That disgust however turned into fear as she realized a horrible truth.

“You're… a finger- a bloody finger-”

Her heartbeat rose up in a staccato. Breathing became difficult for her. Nerijus licked his lips as he felt the blood coursing through her veins.

“Yes… I am… speaking of which…”

One of his hands moved, and in an instant one of his blades was sent flying. It struck flesh on her left thigh. The woman screamed in agony as her leg was being drained. In mere moments, her leg became pale and wrinkled. Nerijus chuckled to himself.

“The Lord will be pleased by your blood…”

Nerijus slowly walked toward the now helpless woman. Like a cat toying with it's food. He lowered his head toward her as he neared. His smile extending to the sides of his face. He let his left hand, which held his remaining Reduvia sway left and right as he walked. He was making fun of her.

The woman whimpered, as Nerijus reached her.

“I will drain you first… and then I'll drain your friends.”

The man held his Reduvia with both hands, ready to bring it down on the woman in a sacrificial manner, with a downward stab. As his muscles started performing the move however, he was struck sideways by a sturdy object which sent him stumbling sideways.

“Eitan!... Guys!”

The woman Nerijus was fighting exclaimed as she saw the rest of the people from the camp. The redhead had a bow at the ready, two men were holding short swords up, the merchant was standing behind them, holding the helmet in his hands, and the armored man held a long iron halberd. His eyes betrayed pain and guilt as he saw his companion in such a state. He knelt by her and held her head up with a mailed hand.

“You'll be alright, Celeste.”

The woman smiled up at him.

“I was just trying to protect our camp.. Eitan… if I die… please keep Sara safe..”

They both looked toward the red haired girl.

“You’ll make it. Don't worry- come on, heal yourself-”

Celeste shook her head in resignation.

“That blade of his… it's drained me of most of my blood…”

Eitan looked at the Reduvia lodged into her thigh. It was digging deeper into her flesh at a slow pace. He grabbed it and threw it aside. He caressed her cheek gently.

“We'll wait for you to come back…”

He exclaimed quietly. The woman nodded.

“Eitan- he's gone.”

The red haired girl spoke. Sara.

“Didn't you guys keep an eye on him?”

Eitan glanced at the two men with a hint of rage in his face. Rage that was gone after a deep sigh.

“Be ready for another attack. Bloody Fingers use weapons like this. It's unlikely he'll give up if we don't kill him. Or… if all of us aren't dead.”

The group moved closer to Eitan and Celeste. Back to back, they made a circle around their injured comrade and prepared to defend themselves from Nerijus’ attack. A few minutes passed like that, with no sign of the man.

“Are you sure he’s going to come back?”

One of the two leather-armored men asked Eitan.

“... I'm not completely sure but from what I've heard we should not take this lightly..”

After a few more moments, one of the men took a step forward.

“I'm going to go look for tracks. Stay put-”

One of the two warriors exclaimed. He was stopped mid sentence as his leg appeared to get caught on the forest floor. He looked down in response and gasped. A human hand thrust out of a small pool of blood. It was firmly holding on to his ankle. Near immediately, he prepared to slash at it, but his whole leg was pulled into the pool. He had no choice but to take a knee.

“Help Talos!”

Eitan shouted to the others as he dashed toward his friend, dropping his halberd. He grabbed one hand and let the other man grab his other, and pulled. Talos screamed out in agony.

“Talos- we're getting you out of there man!”

Eitan said, trying to calm him down, to no avail. He continued to yell even after he was pulled out, and the two men stumbled to the ground, holding him. As all as they came to, they noticed a long wound starting at his upper thigh. Blood flowed out rapidly, and soon the yelling stopped.

Eitan checked for a pulse.

“...He’s gone…”

Sara walked up to him, and knelt next to him.

“So is Celeste…”

The girl’s face contorted as she attempted to keep her tears back.

“...We’ll wait for them to return- The Erdtree will bring them back-”

Sara shook her head as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“No… They weren't being guided by grace, Eitan. Both of them told me. This was the one life they got.”

Eitan stood up suddenly, picking his halberd up.

“We can't let anyone else die to this fiend- I swear I'll-”

“AH-H…”

Eitan turned back in surprise. The other man had a knife sticking through his chest. His friend’s body was drained in mere seconds.

“NO!”

Eitan rushed at Nerijus, holding his halberd with two hands. Nerijus pushed the body toward him, and Eitan shouldered past it. He slashed downward toward Nerijus. He missed. He slashed again, and again, narrowly missing every time. The man was way too fast.

“Why are you DOING THIS?”

Eitan yelled out at the man as he slashed at him sideways. Nerijus however, moved in close as he noticed the sideways slash. He thrust his Reduvia toward Eitan’s stomach, hoping to take him out in that moment as well. Eitan noticed that, and sent a mailed fist right into Nerijus' face. The bloody finger was sent stumbling backwards. He looked up at Eitan and chuckled.

I'm doing it because the lord wills it…” The terrible man said that with a cold uncaring tone.

Nerijus held his Reduvia in front of him. He swished it toward Eitan, and sent out a wave of cursed blood. The blood fell on the pole of Eitan’s halberd. The man gasped in surprise. He didn't expect the blood to be this capable of destruction. Despite having that information however he had to dodge the next wave of blood, that was coming his way now. He stepped sideways and dodged it narrowly. A moment later he heard a thud. His eyes widened as fear flooded into his brain. He looked behind him and saw Sara, on the ground… in pieces.

“A…a….ah…”

He couldn't get himself to say words. He glanced at the merchant, who stood next to Sara. He looked terrified. He was. It was completely clear when he dropped the helmet and ran away.

“A… aaah…”

Eitan was whimpering as he slowly walked toward the dead girl. He didn't know what to do. He was surrounded by the corpses of his friends.

Nerijus grumbled in annoyance as the merchant fled.

“I have to go after him, but I'll make sure I put you out of your misery first.”

He pulled his sleeve up once more, revealing his nasty blood-filled scar. He half the palm of that hand toward Eitan, and channeled his energy toward it. The scar glowed, and a bloody mist gathered in front of his palm. Within seconds, the mist was a swarm of insects, that buzzed incessantly. They instantly flew toward Eitan, ripping at his flesh and drinking his blood. He didn't yell, he didn't cry out in pain. He just kept on wailing for the loss of his friends.

Nerijus picked up his blade from Celeste and sank into a pool of blood.

*

Kerál was still running away. He had found his donkey slain at the campsite, so he had no better method of transportation. He ran and ran and ran, but he didn't know where he was going. Knowing where you were going wasn't a thing that usually mattered to his clan, but this time it did. He was running from certain death. A death that he has to escape from no matter what. He was too fond of living.

As he ran through a thick bush, he saw his pursuer further in front of him. How could this be? Had he taken a wrong turn? He started running in the opposite direction immediately. But Nerijus was in front of him yet again.

“What do you want?”

The merchant shouted at him. Nerijus walked toward him casually. Both of his blades were sheathed.

“I want information. I know you merchants communicate with each other via carrier birds. So you will tell me what you know of a black-haired, red-eyed girl. I've been told she was seen in Limgrave.”

The merchant sighed in relief.

“I would tell you if I knew, but I haven't heard anything about that.”

Nerijus clicked his tongue in annoyance as he grabbed the merchant by his shirt.

“You will tell me what I need to know, or I'll bleed you dry like the rest of them.”

The man raised his hand, his breathing becoming rapid.

“Alright alright! I… may have heard of her. She's… hiding around Agheel Lake…”

As soon as the merchant spoke, Nerijus unsheathed his Reduvia, and stuck it in the man’s stomach.

“You have my gratitude for your compliance.”

Kerál groaned in pain, holding Nerijus’ hand back.

“I should've known… well… you'll get what's coming to you… real soon…”

Nerijus chuckled at the merchant’s final words, pushing him forward. The man stumbled to the ground, taking his final breaths.

“Agheel lake it is..”

Nerijus mumbled to himself as he slowly sank into a blood pool in the ground.

Chapter Text

Limgrave, Agheel Lake North
Sorális.

Idle chatter. Knights spoke between themselves. Sorális was sitting on the horse-drawn cart. Kalé was slumped in front of her, unconscious. The one they called the butter knight sat next to her. The girl noticed him staring at her, yet whenever she caught him staring, he looked away.

The company had grown in size since they left. Multiple riders had joined in, their horses’ hooves splashing through the lake. One of them in particular stood out. A gold-Armored man with a giant build, riding a horse also bedecked in matching armor. A sharp extension meant to represent a horn jutted out of it's forehead. Seasoned men shied away as the giant of a man rode his horse by them. His golden halberd could easily split a great shield in half, and the round shield he held on his other hand could cover Sorális' whole body.

The older knight, the one from the church. The one that killed Talla, rode up to the cart on a brown stallion. Sorális clenched her teeth so as not to say anything that would get her in trouble.

“How are you holding up, butter knight?”

The younger knight glanced at Sorális, then at Wyll, and sighed.

“Expected.” Wyll continued. “Hold on, Raph. It's going to be a difficult night.”

*

Thick mist descended upon the company’s path as the first stars appeared sporadically in the night sky. The great bridge of the main road loomed above them. Barely visible through the veil of mist. Ser Wyll’s brown stallion approached from the back in a gallop. The knight was holding the reins tightly, he had his helmet on too. Raphael was alarmed. The older knight never wore his helmet, unless it was an-

“EMERGENCY!” Wyll roared as his horse slowed down to a trot. “To arms, boys! We're being raided!”

As soon as Wyll barked out his command, the soldiers were at the ready. They formed a line between the threat and the cart, their swords and shields raised. Then, they waited. As they stood still, a horrible silence surrounded them. The mist was drowning out the noise. If something was approaching, they couldn't hear it. But they saw it. Dark figures broke through the thick veil of the mist. The sound of hooves crashing into the shallow water reached their ears as soon as they saw the riders clearly. They wore thick fur hides over their backs, with chainmail underneath. Their heads were protected by bucket-like greathelms, sporting slits for their eyes. Wyll’s eyes widened as he saw them on horseback. Some of the soldiers faltered, despite their training.

“RIDERS!”

“SENTINEEEEL! STOP THEIR CHAAAARGE”

The gold-armored giant charged forth on his equally gigantic stallion. They were both almost two times the size of their normal-sized counterparts. They almost didn't seem real as the horse effortlessly gelloped through the water.

The riders neared, not stopping their charge.

Brave…I have to commend their determination. I know I wouldn't be able to stand as they do before an enemy as fearsome as a tree sentinel.

Wyll thought to himself. And it was true, until the shorter distance revealed the sentinel’s true size to them. The sentinel stilled, and lowered his halberd to the water, creating a trail on it's surface. His stillness reminded Wyll of a predator hunting it's prey. Lying in wait for the right moment to strike. He saw that moment come. The rider closest to the Sentinel pulled his horse’s reins back, attempting to turn away, but there wasn't enough time. The Sentinel brought his halberd up under the rider’s horse; the sheer power within the blow picking the poor animal up before slicing through it. The rider was caught by the blow, and stuck on the Sentinel’s weapon. Man and horse blood fell upon everyone as the Sentinel brought his halberd down again, slamming the struck rider upon the waters, completely cutting him in half.

“CHAAAARGE”

The riders cried out in unison. Seeing one of their own slain like that brought out a fierce determination in them. Wyll saw the flames of fury in their eyes, but he knew that it wouldn't be enough with what they were up against. The old knight watched the battle turned massacre from afar as the Sentinel tore the riders apart; And he was about to slice yet another rider in half. His golden halberd was raised high and glowing a bright yellow, signifying the holy powers bestowed upon him by the great Erdtree. But in an instant, a sudden splash sounded as the water parted, and a flurry of blades struck against the halberd.

*
Sorális. A few moments ago.

Sorális was holding on to the side of the cart, struggling to see what was happening through the dense mist. All she could make out were the faint shadowy forms of soldiers standing in a line. Her heart rate quickened as she realized that she might have to fight as well. She wondered if it was out of fear. In the case it was something else… something she truly didn’t want to admit, she’d rather pretend it wasn’t there.

“Sorális…”

The merchant rasped quietly, slumped against the side of the cart. Sorális rushed to him, setting a hand on his shoulder, and another on his head, holding it up as she spoke to him.

“You’re alright…” She mumbled, mostly to herself. “I’ll get you out of this- I promise.”

Kalé smiled at her solemnly. Shifting as he sat up properly.

“In order for us both to get out of this, I need to pull my weight.”

The merchant started searching through various pockets in his clothing. When he didn't find what he was looking for in his first few tries he panicked, but then, he had a moment of recollection. He found it, strapped on the inner side of the fur hide he had on his back.

The item was a small silver box. Seeing it, and being in its presence made Sorális feel cold. Kalé looked at her as he opened its lid.

“This is why I sent you picking flowers in the dungeon. I needed this… for an emergency.”

A fine white powder cascaded out of the box rapidly, sitting on the water below. At first it looked as if it was just an ordinary pile of flour, stuffed in a pretty little box. However, that was soon proven not to be the case, as the powder slowly converged and started to form something. Greaves… leggings… gauntlets… a chest plate… and a helmet. All see through, yet somehow corporeal as ripples were created where it stood.

“This is a Spirit… I came along a Spirit Tuner during my travels and it just so happened that she couldn't pay me for the wares she wanted. So, she paid in kind.”

Sorális kept her eyes on the still forming spirit, quite awestruck by it.

“Did the Spirit Tuner give it to you?”

The girl asked as she leaned in toward it, tapping on its shoulder pad. A light metallic sound echoed back at her. It sounded as if it wasn't the original sound, but a reverberation of what it would sound like.

“No. She simply taught me a few things about Spirits. This one I found in a tomb-”

A glimmer of moonlight reflecting off of a drawn blade drew Kalé's attention. He turned toward the front side of the cart and saw Raphael holding his greatsword.

“I'll stop you!” The knight barked out loudly. His hands shook violently as he held his blade. “As a knight of the golden order… a knight of King Morgott. It is my… my duty…”

Kalé took a long look at Raphael. He said:

“You don't seem to be too keen on fulfilling your duty. That, or… you're afraid of a merchant and a girl.”

Raphael stiffened. “I… must… obey the king’s orders…” He shut his eyes tightly, tensing up. After moments, he released his grip on his sword, letting it drop on the cart.

Kalé nodded at the knight, who stared back at them, lost.

“We won't forget this.”

Sorális spoke to him. It seemed to her as if the knight's expression brightened, albeit slightly. She followed the merchant off of the cart, landing in the ankle-deep water. She was certain of it: she would never get used to this sensation. Wet boots were her worst enemy.

They had walked further away, toward the great looming bridge. The merchant was holding on to a gold trinket. He directed the spirit toward the commotion before turning back to it. His hands caressed the trinket gently. Almost apologetically.

“Sorry to be calling you again so soon, girl.”

He said quietly before taking in a deep breath, and placing his lips on the item. He promptly breathed out, and the sound that was produced made Sorális feel as if she was traveling in between worlds.

The sound could pull worlds together, and from those worlds, a spectral steed was called forth. It appeared suddenly, through the mist, out of nothing. A skittish brown mare with small white spots on her body. Curved horns sprouted out of the top of her head. As soon as she was called, she made her way to Kalé, nudging him gently with her head, as a greeting. She then trotted to Sorális and bumped her head into the girl’s chest. She snorted and pawed at the ground with a hoof.

Sorális stared at the beast with widened eyes. “Talla?...” She muttered. The mare nickered at her softly, settling. Leaning into the girl’s touch. “But I thought she…” Sorális looked at Kalé in confusion, searching for answers. “And… she's so different now..” She said as she traced over a curved horn with a finger.

“Talla too is a sort of spirit. She was given to me as a gift by an old friend.” The merchant explained as he scratched the Mare's back. “I had her change her appearance so as to not get the attention of anyone too dangerous…” He trailed off as he spoke. As he looked into Sorális' eyes, he found a feeling of thankfulness within him. While something always happened to everyone else, she was still alright. He vowed to make sure that he would not lose her too.

“I thought we'd lost her… you should have told me earlier..”

Sorális protested as she scratched under Talla’s chin. She tilted her head as Kalé kept on staring.

“Is… something wrong?”

She inquired, gaining a look of slight worry. Kalé snapped out of his thoughts, and shook his head after a brief delay.

“No. No, everything is quite alright.” He returned with a smile. “Come on. We should hurry out of this mist. I know a way out.”

The merchant climbed atop Talla's saddle. He motioned Sorális to do so as well as he settled onto it.

“Use the stirrups to hoist yourself up. Feel free to get a grip on my shoulders for balance.”

Sorális followed his instructions. As she got onto Talla as well.

“I know how to get on a horse, Kale…” She muttered to him.

“Do you?... I could have sworn you told me you've never been on one…”

Sorális looked off into the distance as Talla started trotting, thinking of what to respond to that.

If someone could hear them through the thick mist, they would probably be brought to a smile because of Sorális' embarrassed comeback. Yet no one could, and so no more smiles would be had that night, or the next, or the next.

*

Nerijus stood at the edge of a cliff, staring down at Agheel Lake. His robes fluttered as a gust of wind swept by, filling him with a mind-tingling anticipation. It would be as the Lord wanted. Sorális. The crazed bloody finger would return tonight. He sensed her now. Within the mist. He felt the latent power within her—set aside, or forgotten. Oh, how the blood would flow when she returned. Despite everything, he had to admit it: he held a deep admiration for her in his heart. Even so, it paled when compared to the strength of his faith.

“My Lord… I will carry out your will. Oh… oh Lord Mohg…”

Chapter Text

The finger stood upon the bridge, watching over the lake. Listening to the cacophony of a one sounded battle. Nerijus could feel his blood pulse through his veins. He set a hand on his scar, tracing over it. It was time for him to step in. He turned around and acknowledged an armored man. He narrowed his eyes on him as anger rose within him.

“I already paid you… remember?”

The armored man stood, taking his helmet off and holding it against his hip. Long, black unkempt locs rested on his shoulders. A nasty scar ran sideways all across his face. A black piece of clothing covered his nose and mouth. Probably to hide that disgusting face of his… Nerijus thought to himself.

The man chuckled, yet the cold stare of his eyes remained unchanging.

“I'm not here to ask for more coin, finger. I'm here to warn you.”

The faint sounds of battle ceased. The two of them now stood in silence. Nerijus grinned as he thought of how his blood would flow. But no. The riders were a valuable tool to him. He could still find use for them.

“Warn me about what, Kaiden?”

Nerijus spat the tribe name out. The Kaiden rider approached Nerijus, chainmail clinking under the heavy furs he wore. Cold blue eyes stared hard at Nerijus. The Kaiden growled.

“Leave it. I wish you good luck with what lies ahead… only so that we may work together again in the future. Finger.”

The rider snapped his fingers. Heavy hooves sounded as a large black stallion appeared through the darkness. It stopped in front of the man, lowering it's head to him. He vaulted atop it's saddle with admirable ease and rode away. Whinnying echoed as more horses apparently joined the gallop.

The finger turned back toward the lake abruptly. He suddenly sensed Sorális moving closer. She was crossing the bridge. She was directly under him.

He had to do it now. He had to-

“YOU! I've finally found you…”

A man yelled out behind him, hatred lacing his words. Nerijus growled in anger as he turned around, only to be greeted by a mailed fist to his temple. He stumbled back due to the forceful strike, and struggled to make out who it was that came for him this time. He could only see a dark figure at first, but then it came to him when he saw the figure's halberd. His armor was beaten and battered, and he no longer had his helmet.

“You're… from that camp site aren't you?”

The warrior stared right at him. No mercy reflected in his eyes. All that was there was the cold fury of a man determined to kill. He pointed his halberd forward and charged toward Nerijus.

“Not one to talk… huh?”

Nerijus replied mockingly as he sidestepped the halberd thrust. The warrior struck back with a sideways slash, but Nerijus effortlessly dodged by moving backward.

“I appreciate your forwardness, but I can't offer your blood to the Lord right now, as much as I'd like to do it. I have other orders.”

He lifted up the right sleeve of his robe to expose his scar. A low buzzing sound was emitted as the scar shone slightly, and moments later a swarm of small red and black flies burst forth from his palm, preventing the warrior from reaching him.

“If it consoles you at all, your friends died because the Lord willed it… because the mother begs us for bloodshed.”

The warrior yelled out in pure anger as Nerijus escaped him once more, sinking into a pool of blood.

*

Under the bridge
A few moments ago
Sorális

“Faster Talla! Faster!

Kalé cried out as the mare galloped through the water, her hooves splashing droplets around. Talla whinnied back, as if in response. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in and out rapidly in order to continue at this breakneck pace.

“Are we losing them?”

Kalé asked Sorális.

“Not even close!”

The girl replied after turning back to see as they had just escaped the mist. The Sentinel broke through it as well on his armored warhorse. He was dragging the still fighting spirit-knight on the ground with his halberd. The spirit desperately pushed away from the halberd but to no avail. It simply remained pinned.

“Kalé- do you even know a way out of here?”

The girl yelled out as she held onto him for dear life.

“I think so…” Sorális tensed up as the merchant spoke. “What do you mean ‘you think so’- you either do or don't!” She scolded him. “Alright alright- I do!... But it depends on a few factors. It's been…. Years since I've been through this path-”

An arrow whirred past Kalé's head. The merchant gasped and urged Talla on.
“Faster girl! Faster!”

The mare did her best, running around a large rock that the Sentinel’s warhorse simply walked through and demolished as the man held his sturdy shield up.

Another arrow whirred past them, and then, one lodged itself right into Talla’s hind leg. The mare shrieked horribly in response, rapidly losing out on speed. Within moments the horse had stopped her gallop, but was still trying to move forward.

Kalé sighed as he picked up his whistle, blowing it and sending her back to another world.
The pair landed on their feet. Water flowed past quietly as they stood in the shallow river.

“Your little detour ends here, tarnished.”

Wyll’s stallion came to a stop. The sentinel stopped his advance as the older knight set his bow on his horse’s side and climbed off of it. His golden greaves clanked as he took step after step toward the pair with an air of pure undisturbed arrogance.

Sorális swallowed to wet her dry throat as she saw the soldiers catching up. Things truly were looking grim, and she couldn't make out any possible way for them to escape. She looked at Kalé with a determined glance. He nodded, allowing her to go for any plan she had.

“We surrender to you, knights. We will follow you with no quarrel.”

Her voice echoed through the ravine over the river. They were now completely surrounded by infantry. This was the only way out. Facing their ‘justice’.

The girl set her hands forward for Wyll to cuff her. The knight tilted his head at her, smiling.

“Heh… they're at their wit’s end lads! They've finally decided to yield. What do we do in such a case?”

Every single soldier set their spears, shields or swords aside and started applauding the pair. Some whistled, some cheered and some yelled out. Sorális and Kalé looked around them in disbelief.

The knight lifted his hand and all of them stopped immediately.

“Alright, that's enough.”

He was close to them now. He paced around them, assessing. His light blue eyes traced over Sorális. The knight gave her a feline grin. She could almost hear them, his thoughts.

Despite only remembering a fraction of her previous memories, she was certain that she knew this kind of man. The kind to draw enjoyment from seeing others suffer. He must have been one of those, or he was simply so blinded by his belief that he was doing his duty that he didn't care about the cruelty of his actions.

The way he arrogantly strutted around giving orders repulsed her. She gritted her teeth as she stared daggers into him.

Enjoyment lit the Knight's eyes up as he noticed Sorális' anger. He stood still, his hand nestled atop his sword hilt.

“Don't look at me like that, beautiful, I'm not going to be able to hold back.”

Wyll whistled, and his soldiers burst into action. Some came closer, and others moved further away. It seemed to Sorális as if they were guarding the area from any possible intruders. One of them approached the girl from behind, and violently kicked at the back of her knees as he pulled back her shoulders. Her knees met the riverbed, directly on a cluster of rocks. She only felt a dull pain after the impact, but the sharpness of a flesh wound set in after a few seconds. Her blood created a faint red trail in the water, flowing down the river.

“Keep your hands off her!”

Kalé yelled out. This was the first time she'd heard him speak like this, and the first time she'd seen him look so… wild. His eyes were nearly bloodshot from anger. He walked toward Wyll and stopped a few paces away from him.

“Stop. I will come with you. Hell, take me to wherever you've taken my brethren.”

 

Sorális recognized this scene. She had seen it before. She couldn't remember when, or where it happened, but something akin to this was definitely buried deep in her mind.

Wyll leaned in close toward Kalé. His words just now caused a change in the knight. It was as if they were facing a whole other person. His eyes grew colder than a winter night, and he stood up straight, ready to unsheath his blade.

“That's exactly what I was planning on doing, scum. You'll be meeting them real soon.”

Kalé fell to his knees as well. Forced by a soldier he groaned as he was brought to the same level as Sorális. They exchanged a glance. Sorális’ look of confusion was indicating that she knew not what they were talking about. Where were his people taken? What had happened in the past?

The knight turned to the sentinel and nodded. The hulking titan moved in response, lifting his giant halberd with ease.

All that remained of Kale's spirit knight on it were faint spirit ashes, drifting away in the subtle breeze. The sentinel urged his horse forward, and it complied. It came to a stop directly next to Sorális.

“Any final words, tarnished?”

Wyll barked out in cold seriousness. The giant of a knight raised his halberd high, water and blood dripped off of it on Sorális' forehead. The mixture of liquids flowed down her face as she glanced at Kalé. She closed her eyes shut; anticipating the crushing force of the halberd on her head. She could hear the soldiers clanging spears and swords against shields. Kalé’s voice reached her ears through the uproar of voices and noise. She was expecting it any moment now. The war horse neighed, and water splashed her as the beast was shrieking. Silence spread through the ravine, and Sorális' eyes fluttered open. She hadn't died.

An asphyxiating red mist had surged through the area. It was so thick that she had to really focus in order to be able to make out what she was seeing. The water was red, and so was the sky above her. Something was terribly wrong, she had to get to Kalé as soon as possible.

She looked around frantically, but all she could see was the inescapable crimson of the mist. The terrible metallic scent of blood coursed through her nostrils. It was horrifying, yet something stirred deep within. Something wild, something better left untouched.

Her hands responded to that stirring by grabbing the dagger Kalé gave her. She didn’t know why, but it just felt right. Everything about this was starting to feel right. The scent, the blood flowing in the water. Muffled abrupt screams reached her, yet she didn’t mind it at all. This was her normalcy. This was what she was looking for. This was who she truly was.

Sorális walked toward the source of the latest scream each time, eager to find out who was causing this.

The dagger in her hand was not as familiar as she knew she was used to, but it was still a weapon, so it was good enough. She knew this, and so did her stirring feeling. Another scream sounded. It was to the left, so she adjusted. A thud, and the dripping of a liquid into water in large amounts. She walked faster, getting impatient. Another scream, further back this time. She quickened the pace into a quick jog, then a run, and then a sprint. Someone yelled out. It was very close. She looked to her right and vaguely made out a man holding a large mass, handling it with one hand and poking it with another. Sorális stopped in her tracks and stared. The mass grunted as the man shoved an object into its side. Then came a horrible cracking sound. The man shoved the object lower this time; releasing a wet sounding pile from the mass. He then let the mass slump over in the water.

“Finally… The Pale Finger. Our Luminary Lord has been awaiting your return…”

The man noticed her somehow, despite having his back turned to her. The girl tilted her head in confusion, trying to figure out who he was. She approached as he turned around to see her. He was wearing black hooded robes detailed with gold and crimson silk. He was of a taller stature than she was but with a bulkier build. He held a pair of intricately shaped bloody daggers that brought more of that stirring out.

The man took his robe’s hood off, revealing his face. Jet black hair rested on his shoulders. Those same crimson eyes that Sorális had assessed her. He looked her up and down, then smirked at her.

“I'm having a hard time understanding whether you remember me or not. Nerijus. Your old friend…”

His smirk spread further across his face as he spoke. Did she remember him? Her mind was restlessly trying to recall anything related to him. The robes were familiar, yes they were. But not combined with this person. She knew him, and knew the attire, but he wouldn't be dressed like this. Not back when she used to know him.

She kept her eyes on the robes, and it felt as if the memories of them were becoming more vivid. Who wore them?... Not just one person, many people did.

Her body froze in place. The realization bore into her heart like a dagger. That dreadful feeling kept her from moving. She remembered now. Where she was before. Who she followed. Pairs of crimson optics stared at each other, Sorális’ mouth remaining agape.

“Lord… Mohg… He sent you?...”

Nerijus nodded slowly.

“We’re going back “

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Limen

“No.”

Her voice came out stern. She raised her dagger at chest level, and held it forward in her right hand. Her left hand stood behind it, ready to deflect any blows. This too felt right. Her body was quicker to catch up than her mind was. Shards of memories flooded into her head. Blood, masks, robes, torture… Grueling training. This man was her training partner. She searched through her mind… Nothing… Nothing, and then a memory came. It was very fuzzy, but she remembered fighting him often. She remembered how his eyes changed from fierce to dead cold when he got upset. That was the look he was giving her now.

“No? You’re lucky the Lord wants you BACK! We are UNWORTHY of his love! UNWORTHY! YOU more than anyone, yet he gave you the most! Look how far you’ve fallen…”

The man. What was he called… She recalled him attacking her viciously during training. Someone, a masked figure stopped him. It called him Nerijus. He was her peer. Nerijus gripped his daggers tightly. It came to her; they were called Reduvia daggers. They could drain the blood of a human in seconds. She had to avoid getting stabbed no matter what. She had no time to complete another thought since Nerijus dashed toward her. She knew from the look in his eyes that he intended to kill her. He aimed to stab her directly in her chest. His movements were guided by anger and hate.

*Anger… frustration…hatred. Powerful emotions. Powerful enough to influence you in combat. When not controlled they will make your work sloppy. Sloppy work sullies the blood you harvest. But if you guide them and use them as force behind precise and thought-out attacks, you will become worthy of your title, Pale Finger*

Words long-forgotten, yet long inscribed within her mind showed themselves to her. They were uttered to her by the White Mask. Yes, she saw what he meant. Nerijus followed the anger’s guidance. His hand was stretched forward as he reached for her with his dagger. He was leaning forward, he was off balance!

Sorális’ body reacted to that deduction before she even realized it. It acted methodically, algorithmically. Since he was approaching and was already off balance, she dodged to the right and toward him. Even though Nerijus perceived her movements, he couldn't react in time without getting hit. Sorális knew it. He had to stumble forward and readjust, yet he didn't.

With a roar of anger Nerijus set a foot forward to balance himself. She had him. That action was his undoing. For a single moment while rebalancing, the force of his remaining momentum pushed him forward, and in that moment, Sorális landed a well aimed kick on his legs.

Nerijus’ eyes widened as his feet were swept off of the ground. It didn't take long for his face to meet the ground as well. Half of his head was submerged in the shallow waters.

Sorális let out a sigh. She knew she hadn't defeated him yet, and so she remained vigilant, with her dagger in hand.

The robed man trembled with rage as he pushed himself up off of the water. He remained over the surface, supporting himself with his elbows and knees as he breathed heavily.

“So you finally show yourself!”

His coarse voice came out of his mouth through gritted teeth. Sorális did not respond to him, for she knew not what to say.

“I didn't intend to hurt you at first, but you blew that… I didn't intend to kill you either but then you blew that TOO! You truly don't deserve all our Lord has given you. You filthy insignificant BI-”

Sorális thrust her boot on the back of his head, forcing his head underwater.

“Shut up Nerijus.”

She responded calmly. Yes, that's how he was. Rash, easy to anger, and explosive. She just remembered him, and already tired of his nonsense.

Knowing him, he wouldn't give up on defeating her. She had to get him before he got her. The man struggled to get up, to get out of the water in order to breathe, but he couldn't. Sorális was stepping directly on his neck, and applying pressure by tensing her muscles up against him. She had won.

Within a few seconds he stopped moving. His hand was feebly slapping against her boot, until it wasn't. Even if he wasn't unconscious, she assumed he probably wouldn't be able to rise again. The fight was over, but she wasn't willing to end him.

Her first thought was Kalé. He should still be okay.

“Kalé! I'm okay! Please, if you're alright come toward the sound of my voice!”

She cried out as she took her foot off of the robed man. The red mist was subsiding, setting things into view again. Many of Wyll’s soldiers lay on the floors in pools of deep crimson. It gave her a weird sense of satisfaction that she hurriedly pushed back and replaced with worry for her friend.

Gaping holes in their armor revealed the points at which the man’s reduvia dug through them. Sorális hoped she wouldn't have to see the unthinkable. She looked around frantically. Soldiers laying face down, others still barely moving about. One hunched over, hands on his stomach, and another dragging himself to his fallen comrade. She saw no sign of the knight in charge, but she hoped he got caught in it.

A face-down soldier next to her twitched. She pointed her dagger toward him and took a step back. He twitched again, then moved. Sorális' eyes were locked on him, her legs ready to push her away, and her arms ready to strike.

The body rolled over, floating on the surface of the water, and from beneath splashed out a red blue. Water obscured Sorális' vision, so she dashed backward, to avoid any possible strikes.

“Don't move or I'll be forced to throw this at you!”

It was a familiar voice, and a familiar figure. The slender person was holding on to a circular object. A string on it was set ablaze. As soon as the blurriness left her eyes Sorális smiled.

“Kalé!”

She yelled out as she approached him with a quick step. The merchant looked miserable, his red cap ruined, and his robes sticking to his body. He gave her a weak, defeated smile, yet one filled with relief.

“Oh… Sorális…”

He put the string out to set the explosive off, and set it back in his satchel.

“Come here you…”

He exclaimed as his smile grew bigger. He held her tightly as she walked into his arms. The girl felt at peace for that moment. The shock of what happened subsided. She could go back to her normalcy as soon as they left this place.

“We have to go.”

She explained. Kalé pulled back and nodded.

“Yes, and quickly. We're going to leave Limgrave. Maybe even the lands between.”

Sorális frowned at the thought of that. She would have to re-learn everything again. A new place would mean new things. And new things carry a whole lot of possibility.

“The soldiers are dead or dying, so don't worry about them. Wyll ran away on his horse. We just need to get out of here as soon as possible.”

The girl broke out of her train of thought. Now was not the time. Crimson eyes looked up at Kalé.

“Yes. Let's go back”

The merchant started walking, and so did she, following his steps closely. They trotted through the lake as the iron-tinged stench of blood filled their nostrils.

Sorális occasionally glanced at him as they walked. She had something she just needed to ask him. Even so, she decided against it. Maybe he wouldn't want to talk about it. It's best that she didn't bother him with it.

“What is it, Sorális?” He asked as he eyed her from the side. “You know you can tell me anything. We promised we would, didn't we?”

She was left with her mouth hanging open. Dumbfounded.

“You look ridiculous right now.” He exclaimed, chuckling at her. “Come on, out with it.”

In response, Sorális looked away. She disconnected from the world. The only thing that reached her was the sounds of water being pushed around by her boots.

She wondered why she retreated like this. Her consciousness fled to the back of her mind, and left her body behind on autopilot. She had to act as she usually did and just tell him.

“I…”

She returned to her senses. A feeling of awkwardness as she was getting used to manually controlling her body again.

“Nevermind.”

She said abruptly. Kalé tilted his head for a moment, questioning her actions, yet shrugged and let her be.

Sorális looked on in the distance, taking in the aftermath. They had almost reached the bridge again, and soldiers’ bodies were still everywhere around them. It seemed that Nerijus was picking them off before he attacked them head on.

All of this to get her to return? But why? Why was she so important?

“ális… Sorális!”

Her head instantly turned to face Kalé. She was too absorbed in her thoughts to hear him the first time.

“You can brood later. I heard something-”

 

Eitan
Limgrave, Agheel Lake, near the bridge.

His armor clanked as he moved through thick bushes. He angrily slashed at them with his longsword, reducing their height, making branches fall on the muddy ground. Greaves sunk into the soft brown soil, dulling their gleam, even though it was already quite toned down.

“Sara…. Celeste…. Talos…”

Eitan mumbled to himself as he dragged his feet through the mud. Rasping sounds came out of his throat as he breathed heavily.

“Jen.. Celeste… Sara….”

He continued to mumble, sounding as if he was out of breath. His longsword, in his right hand, was being dragged on the ground. A mass was held by his left hand, sliding across the mud.

Eventually he reached water. He looked up to beheld the bridge. That was where the man escaped him from.

“Sara…. Sara…” he grunted out as he set foot on the water. He left the mass behind, a metallic clang echoing as it crumpled with a groan. At that sound, Eitan immediately turned and stabbed it, shoving the blade into it's center.

“AGH…” He yelled out. Breath in, breath out, repeat. He had to keep going.

The soldier he just stabbed coughed up blood and rasped for air. It didn't take long for him to cease all movement however. He wasn’t the first, and he probably wouldn't be the last; but Eitan had no qualms about killing them. He knew their sort. Heard a group of them talking about torturing a poor girl. He knew not what this conflict between the soldiers of the capital and the Kaiden was about, but it didn’t matter to him.

“Drop your weapons! In the name of king Morgott!”

Eitan turned to the direction of the voice. Two soldiers and the knight. It was one of the soldiers that spoke to him. The knight stood still in the back. He motioned to the soldiers, seemingly ordering them to leave, but they laughed at him and turned back to Eitan.

They were both lightly armored, only wearing a helmet and leather armor displaying the Erdtree. Eitan had no business with soldiers like them, but they were approaching him. And he would protect himself if need be.

Anything to protect himself or his warband. That's what he was taught where he was raised. That's what he wasn't able to do this time, and that's what he vowed he would never allow to happen again. Sara, Celeste, Talos and Jen. People whom he would never see again because he wasn't strong enough.

He knew his former warband would be disappointed in him. That was reason enough for him to right his wrongs and become stronger. Putting an end to that sadistic killer would be his first step.

He nodded at the soldiers, acknowledging them.

“It seems like this fella here is deaf.” One soldier said to the other. “Your weapons! Now!”

Eitan sheathed his blade, and walked toward them all. The knight was standing still behind them, his hand on his sword’s hilt, yet he made no move. The soldiers had their blades drawn by now, and were already approaching.

“Bloodthirsty beasts…”

Eitan cursed at them, and they simply laughed at him. “Have you seen yourself, you poor soul? We’ll be putting you out of your misery” One of them remarked, chuckling. They were only a few paces away now, so he drew his sword once more, waiting for them to move first.

Being overconfident as most soldiers of this troupe are, one of them made the first move, swinging his blade downward at Eitan’s collarbone. Eitan put his blade up to deflect the attack, and immediately swung his blade back toward the soldier’s side. His attack was blocked by his adversary. Their speed was near equal. The soldier slashed at him again, and again, with Eitan defending against every single strike. Absorbed by the flow of combat, he didn’t notice that the other soldier had made his way behind him in time, and he was already thrusting his sword toward his back by the time he noticed.

He couldn’t dodge and block at the same time. He had to take a hit. A sideways slash came upon him from the first soldier, and he forced his left arm’s bracer into the hit before it could gain much momentum. Then, he moved toward the soldier and held on to his neck tightly with his right arm, effectively moving out of the other’s range. Stunned as the soldier was, he could only attempt to grasp for air. Shallow, cut breaths escaped him as Eitan forced his windpipe shut, pooling his strength into his grip, preparing for an attack that required much exertion.

He forced the soldier around with his grip, and turned toward the other soldier who was still recovering from the failed thrust. Eitan shoved the grasped soldier onto the other with all his might, unleashing a roar of rage. Both of them stumbled backward, water splashing as they fell one on top of the other in the waters of the lake. Unrelenting in his assault, Eitan swiftly forced his sword down on them, impaling the first one through the chest. The man let out a shriek of agony as he looked up at Eitan with desperation in his eyes. He coughed up blood and shook his head, begging him to stop, but Eitan persisted, applying another thrust of force into the blade, forcing it through the chest; the sword’s blade completely vanishing within flesh and gore, reaching the other soldier and impaling him in the head, ceasing his frantic movements.

Breathing heavily, Eitan took a knee. The pain from the blow he took was starting to register. He looked at his left forearm out of which blood was gushing with every pump of his heart. In haste, he pulled a piece of red fabric from his armor’s cape and fastened it around his forearm tightly as a temporary solution. His maiden would see to the wound later. He was usually averse to asking for her help, but in such a situation he had no other choice.

Water splashed. His head twitched in the sound’s direction and he realized he had completely forgotten about the third enemy. The reluctant knight. He still stood there, staring. His hand at his sword’s hilt. He was bedecked in shining golden armor. Well polished and cared after. The shape of the great tree was fashioned into his helmet, and his green cape waved behind him with soft gushes of wind.

Eitan pulled his blade out of the now dead soldiers, gushing gore into the lake as bones broke and flesh ripped apart. He knew not why the knight stood there like that, but he knew that this troupe was full of monsters. And now they stood in his way. He had to make it beyond the bridge to deliver absolution upon Nerijus. If another monster tried to stop him, he would take it out. Being weak and complacent made his friends die, and he vowed. He vowed!

He ran at the knight despite every inch of his overused and under-rested body screamed at him to stop. Moving hurt so bad, yet despite it he ran, hoisting that heavy armor on him. How long did it take him to get here? Two- or three days? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that his friends were avenged, and future losses were prevented.

The knight raised his hands in defense. What was he doing? He was completely open. He even took his helmet off and shook his head repeatedly. Eitan slowed down as he reached him, and instead of slicing at him, punched him in the face, after switching his blade to his left hand. The knight groaned as he was sent stumbling backwards.

“OW- Are you mad? I’m clearly not attacking you!”

Eitan stood still. Warily looking at the man.

“What reason do you have not to be attacking me? I just killed two of your men.”

The knight’s eyes lit up, then he sighed as he put his helmet back on, concealing his brown curly locs.

“I don’t belong with these people. I tried to talk them out of attacking you but they didn’t listen to me. I’m supposed to be superior to plain soldiers like them. They only listen to Ser Wyll. The knight that trained them. He’s a vicious man, and so are they. Me-... I don’t belong. I… Feel things. Compassion. I don’t know if they have that in them anymore.”

Eitan looked at him. He couldn’t see his face as he said this, but his eyes… Kind eyes. They reminded him of Sara’s eyes. He reminded him of how Sara viewed the world with kindness.

“Alright. Leave. I won’t harm you.”

He spoke bluntly. The knight nodded, but didn’t make a move to leave.

“What? I said leave.”

The knight turned his head toward the bridge.

“I’m headed that way… I want to help a… friend of mine. She was captured by Wyll and I want to make sure she escapes this… carnage”

Eitan paced closer to the night, squinting his eyes at him slightly.

“Carnage… Who is attacking you? Speak up!”

He questioned as he moved even closer, staring at the knight through the eye-slits in his helmet.

“A robed man! He created that red mist…”

The knight pointed toward the bridge. It was true, it wasn't possible to see much farther. A red mist obscured vision. It was also eerily quiet. Did it obscure sound too?

“He… I was told by an escaping soldier that he was last seen battling with.. my friend.”

Eitan took this information in. Nodding.

“Come with me then. I can use the help. What should I call you? The name’s Eitan by the way.”

The knight extended his hand toward Eitan, and answered in an upbeat tone.

“I’m Raphael. Pleased to meet you.”

They shook hands. Eitan smiled subtly. An ally. He was skeptical about whether or not he would let him get closer than this. He could only keep him around for this fight. Otherwise he would have to be held responsible for his safety too.

“And I’m Yura. I too have business with the robed man.”

Eitan and Raphael both turned to face the man called Yura. Eitan huffed.

“There can never be too many of us.”

Limgrave, Ravine under the bridge
Sorális

Kalé pulled Sorális to the side. People were approaching. Not just one. The splashing of water was way too frequent for it to be one person. Two… maybe three. They hid behind a large boulder by the side of the ravine.

There was no need to engage with them. They could just wait them out and sneak away.

“The mist cleared up.”

One of the strangers spoke. Sorális moved by the other side of the boulder as the strangers walked further down the ravine. She moved slowly as to not make noise by disturbing the waters. Kalé followed close behind her. Step by step she mirrored the strangers’ movements to stay out of sight, yet when she tried to take the next step, her leg wouldn't move. Her boot was stuck. She pulled and pulled, but it wouldn't budge. She hastily kneeled so as to undo the laces. She shoved a hand into the water to grasp for a string to undo them, but something grasped her wrist. Suddenly she found herself scenting the smell of blood. It permeated the air. The water around her was turning red. She couldn't help but scream as she stumbled down. An uproar was started as the strangers ran in her direction, splashing water around and talking amidst themselves. Kalé was desperately pulling her by the upper arm so as to free her, but to no avail.

Sorális saw the strangers now. She recognized Yura, and saw a knight and an armored man standing in front of her. All of them were calling out to her. Some pulled at her. It didn't matter, for soon her eyes sank beneath the waters tinged with crimson.

 

Blood Realm
Sorális

Floating in water. Just existing. Feeling the weight leave your bones, muscles and tendons was so relaxing. Cleansing, cathartic even. She was just floating with no clear direction. Her eyes were shut tightly.

She felt so comfortable in this state that she almost fell asleep. Floating in a red sea. A sea of… deep… crimson.

She felt a certain warmth. A bright light that bore through her eyelids. She opened them, and the blood did not sting her eyes. She could, in fact see right through it. The light was being emitted by a full moon way up in the sky. She felt it. The Lord's presence. That moon. It was the moon visible from the eternal cities. The eternal cities… another memory revealed. Her head hurt.

An ocean of blood. A full red moon… she was in the realm of the Lord. This ocean… she helped make it… and it helped make her. Yes.. she remembered… She was still in her teens when she was thrown in here. When she was tainted.

This deep crimson. This tainted blood. The Lord’s blood. Was a blessing as well as a curse. It granted great power. Yet it granted an inescapable bloodlust. She remembered more now. She was indeed the Pale Bloody Finger.

She swam up. Up and up and up. The ocean felt endless. She wondered if it flowed deeper than the season around the lands between. The glow of the full moon brightened. It got brighter, and ever brighter. A few minutes past and yet she swam, and swam. When, without warning, she broke the surface.

The moon wasn't as bright as it seemed, but it illuminated the whole realm despite that. The blood pushed her whole body out when she reached the surface, up to her legs, then her feet. She found herself standing on it. It was as solid as a paved road.

She glanced up at the moon and felt a sense of familiarity. A sense of purpose. This was who she was.

Nerijus, her peer, and training partner rose from the ocean below them. He appeared a few paces away, facing the girl.

“Sorális… Do you remember who you are? Do you remember that you are the Pale finger?”

He asked in a stern voice. His Reduvias dug out of his palms and rested in them. It appeared that this question had great gravity here.

“I remember that I am the Pale Bloody Finger. I remember few other things of the past, and of the Lord.”

Nerijus clutched his daggers harder. He gritted his teeth as he approached her. His eyes assessed her.

“How.. dare…you.”

He whispered in her ear. He spoke the words as if they were miasma.

“How could you ever forget?”

He continued, bringing a dagger to her throat. Sorális stood there calmly, two pairs of crimson optics staring at each other. Nerijus looked down.

“At least you acknowledge that you are the lesser of the two of us.”

She responded quietly, and the man immediately raised his dagger up and thrust it toward her neck. Her blood boiled as it remembered something it had long forgotten. From her palm rose a sharp point. It was just long and sturdy enough to block the dagger.

Nerijus dashed backward in anticipation of an attack. He exposed the scar on his hand in order to cast a spell if necessary.

“You made three mistakes… Number one. You let me live when I had no prior knowledge of you.”

She took a step forward as Nerijus took a battle position with both daggers upraised.

“Number two.. you brought me here and didn't kill me before the blood reminded me of who I was.”

Another step, and a smug smile toward her old peer.

“And…”

Nerijus gritted his teeth and dashed forward, blades slashing wildly. Sorális easily dodged and blocked the strikes with the point growing out of her palm.

“You just let yourself be drawn in to attack out of anger… So easily tricked…”

Nerijus roared out as he raised his blades again, slashing down at her. He however had no chance of actually hitting her. The point on her palm suddenly stretched out completely, and she had turned it to his direction.. One of her twin swords… the Blood Stingers had completely emerged. It's beautiful black metal blade was dripping with Nerijus’ blood as it reached all the way through him. A ruby lay at its hilt, humming quietly as it tasted blood again after so long.

“This will be your last contribution to the lord…”

She violently pulled the blade out, and Nerijus crumbled down, almost drained of all blood. The realm slowly faded, and Sorális felt herself emerging.

 

Limgrave, Ravine under the bridge
Eitan & Raphael

“Can't we go after them in there? They've been gone for more than ten minutes now!”

Kalé complained. He was pacing around where the pool of blood was. Eitan was sitting on a nearby rock while Raphael and Yura were standing opposite to Kalé.

“No. We cannot force a finger out of the realm or follow them, unless they pull us in.”

Yura replied. He spoke quietly and slowly, waiting for any indication of activity. His head turned as he sniffed at the air.

“Blood… a finger is close.”

He muttered as he looked around. Eventually, the lake had a bloody spot in it again, and from it emerged Sorális. Her black hair and pale skin were all drenched in blood, though it was not her own. She glanced at each and every one of them with cold eyes, but kept her eyes on Yura the longest. None of them made a move. None of them, until kale spoke.

“Sorális… you… look different.”

She looked back at him again. Indeed. She now had the eyes of a vicious predator. Yura set his hand on his blade’s hilt and so did Eitan and Raphael.

She wondered if they did not trust her anymore. Kalé and Yura. She remembered who she was, but she didn't forget who she became afterwards.

The girl looked down at her bloodied hands and huffed. She kneeled to clean them up in the river. The others looked at each other questioningly.

“I have changed. It's true. I remember my past now… I'm not sure what my next moves are going to be… but..”

She paused, staring at Kalé. She stood up and approached, step after step. Kalé smiled at her.

“That's alright. Are you okay?”

He asked her quietly, yet she was actually looking through him. She took another step, and so did Yura.
Sorális looked back at him.

“Am I an enemy, now?”

Her expression didn't change. She didn't show any sadness, anger or frustration. Just the cold calculating stare of a predator.

“I'm not sure what you are.”

Sorális huffed, turning toward him.

“Let me make it clear to you then.”

She dashed toward him with incredible speed. His life flashed before his eyes. He couldn't believe it. Her weapon was already emerging out of her right hand. It was a thrusting sword with a red red and black blade. This was it for him. Yura, the Bloody Finger hunter, would meet his end.

Or so he thought until he heard the sound of metal striking metal. An instant later he was thrown backward. He glimpsed the robed man. Nerijus as he clashed with Sorális. His Reduvias were moving so fast that he could barely register them, and the same applied for Sorális' Twin Swords. Both of them had emerged.

As soon as he knew what was happening, Eitan stood up and approached the fighting pair. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Let go”

He blurted as soon as he beheld Raphael behind him. The knight shook his head and spoke sternly:

“It's not that simple. We have to support her. We're way too slow to actually help her out if we go in like this.”

Yura stood up, water dripping down his armor.

“He's right. We need to pick the right moment to attack. Sorális will give us the moment.”

Raphael marveled at her as she fought. Her hair waved as she moved around, retreating or advancing as she danced the dance of death with Nerijus. Her face looked so calm when she fought, while Nerijus stared at her with great hatred.

“I was chosen as you were!”

Nerijus yelled out as he advanced toward her. His blades crashed against Sorális' Blood Stingers. She simply stared back at him as she effortlessly deflected his blows.

“But I was there! I never forgot! I never neglected my duties!”

He jumped forward and thrust his reduvia toward her. Sorális took a quick step back to dodge, then blocked his next strike.

“But even so. YOU GET TO BE ASKED BACK. WHY?”

Nerijus stopped advancing as he poured magical energy into his daggers. They both took upon a deep red glow. He continued his advance, his weapons now blasting waves of deadly blood magic. Sorális was blocking the initial impact, but the magic passed through her blades and nicked her.

She squinted slightly at the pain, but persisted. She was taking steps back toward the group.

“We HAVE to help her now!”

Eitan yelled out at the rest of them, but Yura walked in front of him.

“Not yet.”

Nerijus poured more magic into his blades to cast wider arcs, and slashed at the air in front of him. The blade sent an arc of blood, sharp as razors directly toward Sorális. His smile was wide as he anticipated her imminent death. But right upon reaching her… nothing happened.

“WHAT! HOW?”

He roared in fury. He poured even more magic into his blades and struck again, and again and again. But every single time Sorális blocked, the waves of blood disappeared into nothingness.

“Thank you for reminding me more of what I could do..”

She muttered. Her blood boiled. The memory of magic. Her body instinctively knew how to use it. But she couldn't do something like this except if she remembered how to.

Magic coursed through her blood, and reached her blades, igniting after the hilt and burning with an eerie red glow.

“The Lord's flame…”

Nerijus said silently. He bellowed deeply as he charged at her again.

“ITS NOT FAIIIIR”

Sorális slashed once, sideways.

Both of his Reduvias were reduced to shattered pieces of gore and he was pushed back by the raging flame of her blades. She dashed forward as he flinched and stabbed him through the chest.

This flame thirsted for blood, so it devoured all. It bled him dry. She pulled the blade out and kicked Nerijus toward her allies.

The man could barely stand, but he raised his hand as he was casting a spell.

“I won't die here! I WONT”

The terrible scar on his hand pulsed and glowed as magic gathered, but before he could cast it, he was slashed at from behind.

He stumbled forward toward Raphael who bashed his shield against his head. Then Eitan approached, who ran at him with his halberd. He thrust it deep into the robed man’s gut and pushed it out the other way.

This wasn't enough. He grabbed hold of his face and forced him to the ground. Water and blood splashed around as the finger struggled. He managed to cast a swarm of black buzzing insects to attack Eitan, but he simply didn't move at all. They bit him, and drained his blood, but Nerijus was so weakened that the insects he conjured were frail and slow.

Eitan raised both mailed fists and hammered them down on his face. Blood splurted on his face as he cracked Nerijus' nose open. He bashed him again, denting his head. Again. Again. Again. And again. Soon, the thuds sounded more like squelches.

*FOR SARA! FOR TALOS, FOR JEN, AND FOR CELESTE!*

He breathed heavily. The others didn't approach him. They just stood around him and waited. Too much had happened in such a small amount of time.

Kale and Sorális stared at each other. Kalé smiled. He feared that the change was far too great. That he could lose her. Sorális smiled back, and lost the predatory gaze. She chuckled even as she ran at him and hugged him tightly.

“We did it! Kalé! We’re alive! Both of us!”

Kalé held onto her for dear life, barely holding back tears.

“We…. Did…”

Sorális noticed Kalé’s weird pause.

“What's wrong?”

She asked. She knew that her question need not be answered however, when she felt cold steel on the side of her neck.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: Apostate

Through pain and blood I will not yield

My sword and shield I’m sure to wield

For pain and blood will give me breath

I will not yet accept my death

Excerpt from the Book of Prayers of the Erdtree Knights

_________________________________________________________________________

The softness of the sun’s early light illuminated the sky. The steel pressed against her neck drew blood. Warm and crimson it flowed down her neck’s side in a trickle. Sorális didn't move, nor did she intend to. She only looked at Kalé’s worried gaze, gently smiling at him.

“Why?” The merchant asked Yura. The warrior stiffened, gritting his teeth as his grip on the blade hardened. “She's one of them!” He yelled back at the merchant. “I… can't know why she chose to attack the other one but… I've had it proven to me time and time again that they're all bloodcrazy fiends…” Yura glanced to his right as Raphael shifted, his armor making a noise. “Woah there… I'm no threat-” He raised his hands up disarmingly. His helmet was off, showing off his soft-looking curls that covered the top of his head. This was the first time Sorális had gotten a good look at him. She remembered him from the ambush at the church earlier this day.

“I know you hunt fingers… I do. And she may be one. You're right! But I know that she's not like the others…” Raphael explained, but Yura stopped him mid-sentence. “She is different… but for how long?... For how long will she hold on to her humanity? Or… for how long will she pretend that she isn't a monster?” Raphael took a step forward and continued despite Yura’s counter.

“But she isn't a monster! She's a genuine person! She was only forced to act like this! She was holding back from doing what she did to Nerijus… she was holding back from harming the Leyndell soldiers despite them hurting her and Kalé…”

Yura’s grip on his blade loosened. “A person… my Eleonora was also a person… she was…” the man’s voice broke as his blade dropped into the water.

He fell to his knees and lowered his head. He took his iron pan-hat off and kept it in his lap. Sorális turned to face him, lowering herself in a squat. She wondered if he would even be comforted by seeing her. Her eyes.

Yura stood still, staring down at the flowing water. “My Eleonora was quite fine until the end… And then..” the warrior took a deep breath and shook his head. He looked up at Sorális, and she noticed his face contort to the expression of pain. Not a physical one. The pain of the heart.

“Eleonora…” The warrior muttered, averting his eyes. “Sorális… forgive me I…” The girl fell to her knees as well, and leaned forward, pulling him into a hug. His eyes widened in surprise. “What are you?... Doing…” He asked in confusion. Sorális shushed him quietly.

 

“We're safe now Yura… no one else will be harmed.” The man’s eyes were vacant, defeated. “How can I know that?...”

Sorális kept on holding him softly. “You never really do… There are many in the lands between who would do us harm… but… I'm not one of them. I'm on your side.”

The warrior turned his eyes toward her, yet only viewed her jet black laying over her back. “So how can I trust you?... How can you prove yourself capable of resisting the bloodlust?”

Sorális kept on holding on. Her eyes closed. “I can't. But I promise. That promise is all I can give you. You can never really know what any of us will do.”

A silence hung in the air for a few moments.

“So you're telling me to just… ignore that feeling and trust you anyway?...”

Sorális didn't answer with words. She only nodded repeatedly. Another silence. Yura chuckled.

“You're a weird girl, Sorális.”

They stayed like that for a few moments. Kalé looked on, smiling. Eitan and Raphael stood on his left and right, each of their helmets on their hips, under an arm. “That ended well…” Raphael exclaimed as he glanced at Eitan.

“Sure did.” Eitan responded as he walked away, out of the ravine. Raphael wondered where Eitan would be going, yet he decided it would be best to leave him alone. He didn't want help, or even company. He had somewhere else to be and he respected that. Despite him limping away. A proud warrior. That's what he was.

Limgrave, Church of Elleh
Sorális, Raphael, Kalé, Yura

Soralis felt a weird sense of nostalgia upon seeing the Church of Elleh again. Hardship and suffering made the yearning for the safety of one's home stronger than ever.
She traced her finger over the warm sunbathed rocks making up the entrance. It was a crumbling mass of stone and old dreams, yet nothing had ever felt more like home to her.
Her allies were further behind her. It seemed like she walked faster in a hurry to get back. She couldn't wait to get the bonfire going. Looking back at her allies he first one she saw
was Kale, who smiled at her as he saw her turn. Talla was walking next to him. She had healed from the events back by the ravine. Seeing the proud little mule walk with a confident trot toward her brought
those horrible memories back, yet it filled her with hope. Talla always persisted and got back. She truly admired her strength.

The little mule neared. Soralis spread her arms out and Talla bumped into her, making her stumble back slightly. It gave her a hug in the only way it could. By moving its head past hers and leaning in toward her.
Soralis hugged her back and stroked her mane.

"Hello again, strong girl. Are you alright?"

The mule whinied subtly, as if in response.

"It won't happen again. I promise"

She said to the mule quietly.

"Now that's weird. Not that I'll judge you for it. But it's just weird."

Soralis opened her eyes and saw Raphael approaching. He was helping Yura carry a ram Kale shot with his bow. She squinted her eyes toward Raphael slightly, but didn’t respond to him.

Kale shrugged as he made his way by Soralis. “Different land, different views.”
The girl nodded as she walked by the merchant, making her way with him back to their home.

*

Yura had set the bonfire up, and took refuge in a corner of the church, by a pile of rubble. He sat there quietly, serenely, almost as if he had fallen asleep. His face was covered by his hat, but Soralis had a feeling that he was awake, despite being completely still.

The girl glanced at the fire he set up, the sword lodged into it, probably forgotten by one of the soldiers, Kale roasting slivers of well-spiced meat over it, and Raphael pestering him. She couldn’t quite make out what he was asking him, but judging by how the merchant pensively sat there staring at the fire, she knew it wasn’t something he was keen on talking about. She smiled to herself as she turned back to her notebook, scribbling this scene.

The rustling of leather alerted her to movement. Yura had turned toward her as she sat with her back against a wall. He raised his head to her level, allowing her to see his chin and mouth, which was surrounded by badly kept stubble. His iron hat covered the rest of his face. She wondered why he wore such a thing. It couldn't have been easy to see through it.

“Go on. Ask me. What is it?”

He exclaimed suddenly, taking the girl by surprise. She only shook her head in response though. Wouldn’t it be rude to ask like that?

“It's the hat isn't it?”

He continued. Sorális drew a sharp breath, startled. How could he have known that's what she intended to ask?

“You wouldn't be the first one to ask me about it…”

The man slowly raised his arm, grasping at the hat’s rim, then lifted it off his head, and set it on the ruined church’s floor. Old bandages covered the upper half of his head. The hat didn’t make any difference, he couldn’t see with those bandages in the way.

“I… Do you wear it because you can’t see either way?”

Yura didn’t speak. He only raised both hands to the back of his head and started undoing the bandages. His fingers worked around them as he stood still, on his knees. Soralis only watched, and remained quiet despite her curiosity. She watched on as the bandages came undone and set his hair. A black mane with a slight waviness to it that reached down to his shoulders. It looked as if he hadn’t freshened them up in a while. Many strands stuck together.

 

His eyes remained shut. She noticed his eyelids quivering as he forced them so.

Soralis was alerted by the sound of a sword’s guard clanking against its scabbard. Yura held on to his blade’s handle tightly… Until he didn't. He let go of the handle with a deep sigh, showing Soralis his twin hazel-coloured eyes. A pair of eyes that had lost their light. He looked at her as if he was seeing through her. He glanced around a few times until she finally caught his gaze. At that moment, his expression changed completely. Despair emanated from him like sudden rainfall, and with that, he shed a single tear from his right eye. He blinked once, twice, then spoke.

“This is why I deny myself my sight…”
He took a shuddering breath and continued.

“Last time I saw her, I almost died because I looked into her eyes, and froze… The Fingers of Mohg no longer have the ability to act as they will. They are controlled by his own will, and driven to insanity by his accursed blood… Despite that… I still hold hope for Eleonora. And seeing as you managed to remain sane, maybe she can, too..”

He averted his eyes in guilt, and kept them looking downwards.

“It is because of thoughts like this that I cannot trust myself with seeing her eyes again… I must put an end to this insanity.”

Soralis pursed her lips, deep in thought. Suddenly, she stood up and made her way to Talla, where Kale kept his stock. She picked up a few items from various satchels and bags. A piece of soap, a wooden bucket, and some rags.

“Come with me.”

She exclaimed as she extended a hand to him.

Yura reluctantly took it, and she pulled him up, and then out of the ruined church of Elleh.

“Where are we going?”

He asked as he allowed himself to be pulled along.

“You’ll see.” She said with no intention of explaining.

 

Church of Elleh

Raphael, Kale

Raphael kept his eyes on Kale as he masterfully cooked those slivers of meat. The irresistible aroma of the spiced food broke into his nose. He felt his mouth water as he anticipated tasting it. It almost smelt good enough to make him forget about the fact that Soralis had taken Yura somewhere… Alone. His lips thinned as he thought about it.

thump

Raphael flinched as something hard struck him on the top of his head.

 

“OUCH!”

He exclaimed loudly, setting a hand over the point of impact. He reeled back and sheepishly stared at Kale.

“What the hell was that for?”

Kale pulled his stick back looking at him with tired eyes, the red silk cloth over the lower half of his face moving as he spoke.

“You were letting your thoughts get to you. I stopped it.”

The merchant placed a wooden plate on the knight’s lap. Three long slices of meat, heavily spiced; a handful of roasted rowa fruits were set on top of them, thinly sliced in the middle to let their juices flow and give the meat more flavor.

“Thank you”

Raphael muttered. He picked up a rowa fruit and bit down on it, its rich and sweet flavor releasing in his mouth. A smile escaped him as he was reminded of times that were perhaps more peaceful.

“You must’ve been raised in Leyndell then. You recognize the gold fruits.”

The knight looked back at Kale and nodded.

“Born and raised.”

He spoke no more than that. Another fruit, with a bite of meat. Sweet and salty paired perfectly in this dish. Another smile of contentment escaped him.

“Now that you’re feeling better, tell me what it is that troubles you.”

Kale demanded as he set another serving of meat over the fire to be roasted.

“You were talking so much earlier but as soon as Soralis and Yura left you just went quiet.”

Raphael chewed, swallowed, and stopped. He looked at his food blankly. In response to the knight’s reluctance, Kale continued for him.

“You know… Based on your actions one might assume that you know the girl. Or rather, that you knew her before.. That you knew her when she was still a Finger.”

He shook his head without looking at the merchant.

“Then I must ask you what your intentions here are… Everyone had a reason to be there. To help. But you… You betrayed your own men, your comrades.The only other explanation would be that you did it out of the kindness in your heart… Which in our current world I find hard to believe. Especially given what… What you are..”

Raphael almost didn't believe it. Kale’s voice was laced with miasma. He glanced at him, and he saw it, but only for a moment. His eyes nearly ablaze with fury.

“Maybe I’m pushing you too hard.”

He continued. His features softened, and based on his eyes, Raphael guessed that Kale smiled at him, as if he hadn’t just accused him of an ulterior motive.

“I’ll go scouting.”

The knight announced as he left his plate near Kale and took off. His green Erdtree-emblazoned cape waved behind him. Dried mud had sullied its base, but the tree still stood tall.

 

Southern Limgrave
Soralis, Yura

The girl pulled a curtain of vines to the side, revealing a very well-hidden entrance to a cave. It almost felt deliberate, but the vines had grown all over this side of the cliff, so it couldn’t have been.

“After you”

She exclaimed with a smile. The warrior stepped into the cave. He was surprised. Despite it being dark for the first few steps, natural light still somehow made it into the cave. Small intricate creases ran along the cave’s ceiling, and rays of light shone through. It was barely enough to illuminate the path forward.

Yura flinched slightly as he felt Soralis’ arm on his shoulder. Glancing at her, he saw her beautiful crimson eyes again. He drew a breath. It always hurt the same.

They continued through the cave, following the illuminated path. Soralis tugged on his wrist gently to guide him. The warrior swallowed. His throat was dry.

*

Eventually, they came upon a spacious chamber. The lighting in here was brighter. Bright enough to easily navigate the area. Further along in the room was a large pool of water. Steam wafted up from it in gentle swirls, reaching for the ceiling.

Yura turned toward Sorális.

“What exactly… are we doing here?”

Sorális looked up at him and pulled him closer to the pool.

“Take your armor off.”

She exclaimed quite bluntly as she set the bucket, soap and rags by the pool.

Yura took a step back and shook his head.

“No- no- I my heart is-”

Sorális smiled at him subtly.

“I have no such intention. Now, sit down in the pool, I'll wash your hair.”

The warrior looked right through her in shock. Moments later, as if his conscious being returned to his body, he nodded and followed her instructions.

Now just in undergarments covering his lower body, Yura sat down in the pool. Sorális followed suite, sitting by it's edge and submerging the bucket in it. Water rushed into it rapidly, forming a current that settled as soon as it was full.

Yura felt the water crash down on his head as Sorális emptied the whole bucket at once. He closed his eyes shut tight in response and contorted his face.

“Could you-.. do it less like you're handling cattle?”

Sorális chuckled in response.

“I'm not touching your hair before I've splashed at least a bit of water on it. I can't know how long you've had that on for “

Yura paused for a moment, then as if to begrudgingly agree, rolled his eyes.

The next round of water came down on his head softly, and then she started massaging his scalp with an ointment. It had a subtle floral scent.

“I'll help you… in defeating her I mean.”

Sorális suggested as her fingers spread through his hair.

The warrior kept his eyes facing downward, unwilling to even come close to meeting her gaze.

“What sort of hunter of Fingers would I be then?... You already defeated Nerijus for me… I can't make you go after the one I'm doing all this for.”

The girl poured another bucket over his hair, being done with caring for it.

“I won't pretend to understand what you're going through. All I can do is offer you my assistance. I don't want a friend to potentially end up dead”

Yura nodded.

“Alright…”

He stood up, and picked up one of the rags Sorális brought with her to dry himself off.

“If anything troubles you. Please let me know.”

The girl genuinely smiled at him as she took her turn in the pool.

“Of course.”

She agreed before submerging herself down to her nose.

*

Southern Limgrave
Raphael

 

The sun was starting to set. Raphael sat down by the edge of a cliff, watching over Agheel lake. He didn’t see much during scouting, other than the occasional nobody and the people who had settled in the ruins. With Wyll’s unit annihilated and Serosh’s unit moving in the opposite direction they would be safe for a time. Despite that, he would suggest that they should move soon. The danger was far too great, and they’d need a place that provides some semblance of safety.

No. He was relying on their trust. He knew they wouldn’t trust him anytime soon. Kale’s words made it quite obvious.

“I’m one of them after all…”

He muttered to himself, almost overshadowing the sound of heavy footsteps behind him. Despite that, he had no time to react. He felt the sharp and cold bite of a blade gnaw through his back and exit through his stomach. He instinctively set his hand over it. His golden gauntlets were beset with crimson. Tainted.

He looked at the blade that stuck out from his stomach. The Reduvia. Another finger-

“That… you are butter knight. Betrayer. I came here solely to end you. Serosh will take care of that wretched blood-fiend you turned on us for. I trust it was worth it?”

Ser Wyll… He leaned in closer to Raphael as he twisted the Reduvia in him, quite literally sucking the life out of him. Raphael grunted in response to that excruciating pain.

 

“Is it worth it?”

The older knight grumbled into his ear.

“I’m certain that your whore mother is proud of who you’ve become. Living on pity and shitting all over it.”

Raphael stopped grunting after that remark. He twisted himself around despite the pain. The blade moved up in him sideways, tearing flesh and bone, but the knight did not care. His eyes were set with fury by the time he landed a glance on Wyll. Two others were with him. The coward would not even face him alone.

He lashed at him with bare hands despite the blood leaking from his body. Wyll was frozen in fear. The knight aimed a metal-fisted punch directly at his face. It was going to hit yet… The impact wasn't there. He heard a thud directly in front of him. Wyll had a wolfish grin on his face.

“Well. That’s what you get. You had me worrying there for a moment.”

Raphael looked down to see his severed arm. One of the two soldiers had unsheathed his sword. It was stained with blood.

Ah… I should have looked out for that..

Unable to sustain itself any longer, Raphael’s body fell backwards. He fell and fell, off the cliff. Fading in and out of consciousness, he wanted to feel fury and anger as he heard them approaching again, but his body didn’t allow it. He couldn’t move a muscle.

“A pity. You would’ve done well as fodder for the frontlines, butter knight.”

One of the soldiers moved in to execute him, but Wyll set his arm in front of him.

“Leave him. He only deserves a dog’s death.”

The man looked up at the great tree and nodded, as if it had done his gods right by this. Perhaps he did. He put a situation to rights by killing a betrayer.

“Let’s go. We need to tell Serosh where the others are.”

The soldiers turned with him in the direction of the camp. They were leaving.

They don’t deserve to die… How can a god be so cruel?... How can a god hate? How can a god spurn?... How can a god be so… Human?

Wyll stopped. He looked at his soldiers, raising a brow.

“Did either of you say anything?”

They both shook their heads and looked behind them at Raphael. He was staring dagger into them. Gritting his teeth, practically baring them. He spoke:

“For pain and blood… Will give me breath. I will not yet… Accept my death…”

The old knight chuckled.

“Praying?... You’re too far gone, scum. The Erdtree abandoned you long ago. When you were born to that monster.”

Raphael struggled to move, but he managed to raise his chest off of the ground with his remaining right arm.

“I don’t need that damn tree to help me…”

The soldiers gasped as the knight slowly stood up despite his blood being all over the ground. His skin was pale, and the dagger was still stuck in his stomach. Despite all this, he didn’t feel the pain any longer. He drew his greatsword and held it in an aggressive stance, to the right of his body.

“Leave this scum to me. Perhaps I’ll assist him in dying.”

He unsheathed his blade. It shone with a golden light, whereas Raphael’s had lost its golden shine. He raised it up high, and a ray of light emanated from the Erdtree, imbuing itself in the blade’s tip, empowering it. A powerful aura now engulfed the old knight. He smiled as he held an aggressive two handed stance.

“So? What will it be? Come at me.”

Raphael didn’t think of any other plan. He didn’t want to. He dashed forward with a newfound energy. He was faster than he had ever been. In the blink of an eye, he was in range to slash at Wyll, and so he did. His arm was already raised. He slammed it down toward him meeting the old knight’s shield. The old strike sent him reeling backwards, but no real damage was dealt to him. The old knight advanced this time, his sword and shield at the ready. Raphael attacked as soon as he was in range again. He had no other option.

Wyll effortlessly blocked the strike, and counterattacked, lodging his blade into Raphael’s torso sideways. With no hand he could not defend that side.

Raphael cried out loudly as the holy magic in the blade burned his skin and innards, as if it recognized him to be different, against divinity. Wyll smirked as he pushed further, attempting to cut the knight in half, but met heavy resistance. Looking into his eyes he saw a powerful unfaltering flame. The desire to be, the desire to live. Raphael cried out once more and a dim gold spectral energy gathered where his missing arm should be. It formed into a clawed arm and immediately lashed out at Wyll, breaking through his shield and slashing through his armor.

The old knight fell back from the impact, coughing loudly. His voice was strained.

“Such… heresy… Of course… The crucible…”

The soldiers jumped in to attack. One held a warpick, the other a shortsword. Groaning in pain, Raphael cut the warpick wielder clean in half with his sword before he could even raise his weapon. The other soldier managed to lodge his blade through the knight’s heart, making him stumble back. He tried and tried to pull the blade out but it was no use. He was holding it down with his spectral arm.

Raphael dropped his greatsword and grabbed a hold of the soldier’s windpipe.

“No… NO!”

The soldier cried out, but with a resounding crunch, Raphael tightened his hand into a fist. Wyll looked on in disbelief. With what strength he had remaining, he turned tail and ran away. Raphael on the other hand, could hold on no longer. He fell down to his knees, and collapsed face first on the ground. His spectral arm dispersed into thousands of shards of magic and blew away.

 

*

Southern Limgrave
Soralis, Yura

 

Soralis was gathering the supplies she had brought with her. She placed the soap and ointment in the bucket, then stacked the rags on top of them.

“All better now?”

She asked Yura, her head completely lost in fabric as she was putting her clothes back on.

Yura smiled at her subtly. The smile did reach his eyes, but faded quickly.

“That helped.”

Was his response.

*

It didn’t take long for them to return to the church, but neither of them were ready for what they beheld. Talla was pulling against her lead frantically. Kale was sitting next to Raphael’s ruined body. Soralis let out a blood curdling shriek. She kneeled next to him and held her hands over him. She shook and trembled, looking up and down. His left arm was missing, his body was torn through as if it was attacked by a vicious animal. Tears were already streaming down the girls’ eyes. She cried and cried, her head bobbing with her shaky breaths. Finally she took a hold of his hand and caressed it gently.

Miraculously, Raphael opened his eyes. Soralis noticed immediately and spoke.

“Please! Raphael! Don’t go!”

He wished he could respond to her, but couldn’t. His body wouldn’t allow for more exertion. Kale and Yura stood silent as Soralis kept on talking.

“Who did this to you? Who was it?? I’m so sorry for not being there! I’m sorry.. I’m sorry…”

She yelled between sobs. Her tears fell on his face. Raphael wanted to tell her who it was, but he couldn’t utter a single word. His consciousness was fading.

Ah… She’s so beautiful.. Even when she cries… I hope I sent Wyll away for good..

And with that his eyes lost all life. The person in his body was gone.

Soralis punched the ground so hard that her knuckles tore open. She was biting her lip to hold herself from crying. The look of her eyes changed and so did her feelings. The Reduvia told her all she needed to know. It was another Finger.

Chapter Text

Mistwood. Shack in the forest
Sorális, Kalé, Yura

The forest was as safe from the Leyndell army as it could get. It was easy to get lost in it if one didn't know their way around it. Any large unit attempting to traverse it would likely be found by a Runebear. Those vicious beasts could sniff a single human out from miles away, but a whole unit would get it dashing to them. Thankfully, Kale had traversed the Mistwood before.The techniques of his people were unbeatable when it came to passing by unnoticed.

“Stop it! It got into my eye!”

Soralis squealed as Kale applied an ointment on her face. She was struggling against him, sitting down on a chair.

“That wouldn’t have happened if you just stood still! Now calm down, it doesn’t sting that much does it?”

The merchant thinned the ointment out over the girl’s cheeks. It had a heavy earthy scent. It was meant to cover their own scent and throw the Runebears off.

“Either way! Why does Yura get to do it by himself?”

Soralis complained as she shut her eyes, begrudgingly letting Kale finish working on her.

“Because HE didn’t drop half of it on the floor”

The merchant argued, putting emphasis in his words. Despite that, his touch was gentle.

Suddenly, someone knocked on their shack’s door. Soralis stood up in an instant, unsheathing her large dagger. Kale was surprised to see how she had changed from a simple girl, meekly obeying his commands, to a predator, driven by instinct.

She neared the door and set her fingers on the key.

“Would you mind hurrying up? I know you’re right behind the door, Soralis.”

It was Yura. The girl’s eyes softened immediately. As if her irises had a distinct shape when she sensed danger. Kale looked on as she unlocked the door.

“Welcome back Yura!”

The girl exclaimed energetically. Yura walked through the door with a slight smile. He was wearing his iron hat, but not the bandages beneath it, meaning he could actually see now.

“So- do you have any leads?”

She asked as they made their way to a table in the middle of the shack. Yura nodded in silence as he pulled a chair back to take a seat. The others joined in.

*

“I made it to Fort Haight, Southwest from the Mistwood.”

Sorális leaned in over the table, tilting her head slightly.

“I found signs of a Bloody Finger in the area. A body, completely drained of blood. A piercing wound on its neck. Other than that, all I have left is reasonable suspicion.”

Sorális’ brows furrowed as she asked a question.

“Could have been a giant dragonfly… they say that when they are starving they’ll attack and drain people.”

Yura nodded but raised a finger.

“That's not all. The body had no clothes on. I doubt that a dragonfly would do that.”

“A bandit may have, though.”

Kalé butted in.

Sorális looked at Yura with troubled eyes.

“I'm sorry but I don't want to lose any time In locating the one behind this. We should keep on looking. I don't want to share a world with the person who did that to Raphael.”

The girl seethed with feelings of vengeance. Yura didn't say another word of protest.

“I'll keep looking.”

And with that, he was off again.

“Now what?”

Sorális asked the merchant, pacing around the shack.

“I know someone that might be able to help us. I think he might be nearby.”

The girl tilted her head.

“How would you… is this one of your merchant tricks?..”

Kalé chuckled heartily.

“No, no. You'll see once we're there.”

*

South of Mistwood, Beach
Eitan & Melina

The food the demihumans gifted Eitan didn't have much of a taste to it. He guessed it was because of the gash on his tongue. He was lucky it wasn't cut off with how hard their queen punched him. Despite taking a blow, a win is a win, and so he gained their respect. Their Queen, who called herself Milis, could actually communicate. The only command Eitan gave her after defeating her was for her to move her people out of Fort Haight immediately. He would most likely see her and her people again when he moved toward the peninsula.

“You're lost in thought again.”

A soothing voice spoke. Eitan looked up, away from the not-so-apetizing food and saw her. He hadn't even noticed she was there.

“Oh… Hey.”

She looked him over with her fiery amber eye and sat down next to him. Her other eye remained shut. An intricate tattoo-like marking lay over it.

“I said to summon me by grace didn't I?... It's been a month since I've seen you… and.. where's your.. entourage?”

Eitan remained quiet. He took another bite of his food- whatever it was, and chewed slowly.

Melina glared at him.

“Won't you justify your actions? You haven't even called upon torrent since I gave you the bell. Are you doing it to conceal your presence?”

Eitan only presented a single hand, his palm facing upwards. A mass of Erdtree-gold essence swirled over it.

“At least you've gathered some runes..”

She said after a sigh.

“Alright.”

Melina set her hand on his, pushing down against the runes In his palm. For a few moments Eitan shone brightly. The runes were being forced into his own essence. The maiden let go and he stopped shining. Eitan made his palm into a fist repeatedly, as if he was feeling some sort of change.

“What are your plans for now?”

She tried again. Eitan looked at her with tired eyes.

“I'm going to… move toward the peninsula. I hear that there's trouble with the demihumans. I've settled a few things at Fort Haight. This man, Kenneth Haight seems to value life, unlike Godrick, so I’m helping him take some land back.”

Melina nodded through his explanation. She no longer felt as frustrated with him.

“Do you need my help in this? I can stay with you.”

Eitan glanced at her. He looked downward as if he was pondering the question. Eventually he shook his head.

“Summon me by grace when you need me, Eitan.”

And with that she left, transporting herself elsewhere and leaving residual parts of her spirit behind. Small blue wisps that danced in the air before disappearing.

Eitan huffed as he stood up, taking another bite of his demihumans meal. It would be a long way to the peninsula.

*

Southern Mistwood, Evening
Yura

It was true. He could not be certain about the nature of that man’s death. It did indeed seem plausible that it was done by a giant dragonfly. In any case, he couldn't make anything else out of the situation without further scouting, so he marched back toward fort Haight.

He wasn't using the main road due to the bandits setting traps along it, so he traversed the Mistwood through paths and shrubbery. The hunter walked silently, completely aware of his surroundings. He could hear a bear scratching it's back on a tree not far away from him. He could also hear the idle chatter between two bandits. The time he spent denying himself his sight granted him these extraordinary senses.

With these dangers in mind, he continued, making sure to stay well away from them. He could see the main path through Mistwood. He had to admit it's beauty to himself. It was a nicely paved path meant to provide merchants with a way to safely travel to Fort Haight and Castle Morne further down. Ever since Godrick got bolder however… it gradually became less and less safe to use.

It was getting dark. For most people, it would be wise to find shelter at this time, but Yura was looking for danger. In truth, he was almost convinced that nothing would happen, but then he sensed it. That wicked bloodlust. A mixture of hate and exaltation. It was unmistakable.. a finger was hunting.

Yura rushed through the greenery, his hand placed on his katana’s handle. He was getting closer and closer. He could feel the finger’s murderous intent all around him yet as he reached a clearing in the forest where the scent of blood hung in the air… he saw nothing. The presence disappeared completely.

The hunter drew his sword half out of its scabbard, pacing, making sure not to look in a single direction for too long. His eyes looked at different points all around him in quick succession. He knew the enemy was hiding and concealing their presence. He made a mistake in approaching so quickly. At the very least he had the distance between him and the darkness of the thick forest. He could counter any attack.

He could not see or sense the enemy… he could hear something however. He focused in on it to make out their position. A… weak gasp for air?... As if wind currents were passing through a narrow pathway. It was… directly above him.

In mere moments his blade was drawn and slicing upward. His hit connected, but another sound caught his attention. The sudden rustling of leaves. Something was leaping toward him, but he had no time to see it, let alone counter.

A sharp pain alerted him to a wound in his thigh. That something that attacked him was right in front of him. Ominous red eyes looked straight into his own. A woman. No, a monster.

The finger had long and wavy brown hair and full lips. Her body was covered in a typical soldier’s armor set, with little more than chainmail protecting it.

He pushed her back immediately and readied himself for a battle. Her eyes… they didn't look like Eleonora’s. He could fight her. His complete focus was disturbed by a sudden thud directly in front of him. It was a grey-ish mass. It looked like flesh that had crumpled into itself, like a raisin.

Yura took a few steps back instead of looking up. He saw it. A soldier’s body, hanging from the trees, completely drained of blood. A single entry point on its throat.

The finger smiled at him intently.

“You seem intrigued by my work..”

She spoke in a mild voice. A long, dark appendage connected to her pointer finger. It was most likely what she used to kill her victims. And what she stabbed him with.

Another soul taken by the accursed blood. Who would be intrigued by such horror?... He would liberate her soul immediately.

Yura pumped great strength into his right leg in order to propel himself forward… nothing came forth. He nearly fell over.

The woman chuckled to herself. Covering her mouth with her mutated hand.

“Finding it hard to move, hunter of fingers?”

Yura growled beneath his breath as he took a step back. He had to retreat. Where to, though? She wouldn't let him. He looked down at his leg. It was pale. He could barely feel it, let alone move it effectively. It was more like what he imagined a prosthetic to be like.

With his pale leg in tow, he kept a defensive position as he walked backwards, toward the shack where Kalé and Sorális were.

He didn't expect the killer in front of him to just let him go, and that's how it was. She approached him slightly from the left. He guessed it was to put a strain on his weakened leg.

In any case the killer came at him, a brass shield in one hand and a short sword in the other. The pointed appendage on her hand was gone now. This was going to be a swordfight.

She slashed sideways, a wicked grin on her face. Her eyes betrayed a deep enjoyment of combat.

Yura locked his blade in with hers after blocking, then twisted it downwards and struck her sword arm in a blur. The killer dashed back quickly as she stared at the gash on her arm, seemingly wondering how she even got hit.

Despite her gaping wound though, she wasn't displaying any sort of stress. She simply brought it up to her mouth and licked a trickle of blood off it. Moments later, the wound had closed up. She smiled at him again as she approached.

Clearly, he wasn't seen as a threat by her. She could heal, and change her body into weapons. At first glance, he was unmatched. His thoughts raced as he scrambled through his mind to make up a strategy against her, but her imminent approach made him blank.

The bloody finger thrust forward, forcing Yura to block sideways and counter. This time however, his strike was blocked by her shield. Back to a standoff, he waited for her to act or slip up.

“This is a battle against time…”

She taunted as she bit her lip.

“Soon enough, that sweet crimson will be flowing… and the lord will be pleased.”

It was as if she looked through him. As if she was looking at the blood flowing in his veins. She struck forward, but he blocked. Her eyes betrayed that she was going for his heart. Yura couldn't help but smirk as he read her. It was funny to him that these killers could be so predictable.

The hunter slashed sideways as she recovered, but she managed to step backwards, making him graze over her stomach. Blood pooled from her wound into her Haight Soldier clothing. She smacked her lips in annoyance as she pressed her hand into the stain.

Yura took a stance, preparing himself for her next move. This time it was different. She wasn't moving quickly. She simply walked, and threw her shield to the side. She was no longer toying with him it seemed.

With a two-handed grip on her short sword, she raised it over her head and dashed I'm toward him, slashing it downward.

If he didn't block, he would be cut into, and so he did.

Before he could brace for another hit, she struck again, and again, and again with increasing intensity. She ended it with a kick that made Yura stumble. He would have fallen if not for the blood now circulating in his weakened leg.

As soon as he regained his footing, he brought his nagakiba up into an upward cut. The killer didn't expect it. Her right arm was caught in the hit and sent flying as it was severed. She cried out in pain, her voice echoing in the forest. The sounds, this heavy scent of blood. A Runebear was sure to appear soon enough.

The killer looked at him with hatred in her eyes. She picked the reduvia out of her belt with her left arm and threw it at him. He followed the trajectory with his eyes. The throw was lacking, it would nearly miss him even if he didn't move. All he had to do was tilt his body to the side.

The blade stuck in a tree stump as Yura heard a snap. Before he could even realize what was happening, the world was upside down.

The bloody finger breathed heavily. She held her hand up against her missing arm and held her breath as she worked magic over it. Miraculously, the appendage regrew. The flesh was deep red and misshapen, but it did indeed form a hand. Just like that, she picked up her sword and shield and ran away.

Yura thought to cut himself free, but he dropped his sword when he was caught. It wasn't long before he sensed something approaching. He closed his eyes and listened in carefully. Laboured breathing… deep grunts. Stomps betraying a hulking beast. He could hear it without even focusing now. A Runebear was approaching.

The hunter was completely restrained. He couldn't even move his fingers, let alone his hands. He closed his eyes. Thinking… thinking… he could use his teeth to-... His face warmed up as the beast’s warm breath shot up against it. He opened his eyes and saw it. The beast was on eye level with him despite the height at which he was strung up. Before he could finish another thought, it slashed at him with razor sharp claws. Yura did all he could in order to move, managing only a few inches of motion. The claws struck through his whole body, cutting into his skin over his legs, his abdomen, his chest, and his face.

He dropped onto the forest floor, and that was the only positive of the situation as the slash cut the ropes.

His iron hat was in shambles, so he left it. He instinctively reached for his blade as soon as he spotted it though, and faced the bear off.

The beast recognized the sight of a weapon, so it roared at him in rage, the very earth shaking.

Yura, backed into a corner, and losing a lot of blood, could only think of a single move that would give him at least a shot at escaping this encounter.

He took a deep breath, steadying his thoughts while his own life’s essence abandoned him. He held his blade above his head, yet pointed directly at the bear.

He felt his connection with Nagakiba surge through his body. His body, and the weapon, moved on their own. In a pattern infinitely rehearsed, and never once forgotten.

Mistwood, Forgotten Ruins

Sorális grumbled. The ointment was making her feel itchy. It was sticky, and awkward, and annoying. She stared daggers into Kalé occasionally as they walked through the forest. His subtle mischievous smiles told her that he knew exactly what it was about. Not an inkling of remorse for making her go through this.

She huffed, suppressing her frustration, choosing to take the nature in instead. The path Kalé was taking her down seemed to be less commonly walked through, as the road was overgrown. It looked so little like a path that Sorális was certain she would’ve gotten lost if Kalé was not with her. The forest was very thick in this part of the Mistwood, making it difficult for sunlight to make its way through the intricately grown web of leaves. Whenever it did though, those singular winning rays made for a beautiful sight to behold.

For some reason they reminded her of the place she was raised in. She remembered a night sky full of stars that took her breath away, she remembered seeing a palace looming in the distance, grand and untouchable. She also remembered inescapable walls of stone no matter which direction she chose to walk in.

Yes, she saw a ray of light like this back then. It was the first time she ever did. It was the first time she saw sunlight. As a young girl she reached out to touch it. Her fingers phased through it… it was warm… pleasant. She did the same now, letting the ray hit the palm of her hand.

“Caught in the moment?”

The merchant was standing next to her, looking down at her palm. Sorális glanced in between him and her palm, wondering what she'd been doing. She was completely absorbed by her memories.

“We're close”

Kale exclaimed as he gently tapped her shoulder.

Overgrown ruins lay ahead. The man stood still for a few moments. Waiting. The moments turned into minutes, and Sorális waited by his side. She knew that whatever it was he was doing had a reason behind it.

The howl of a wolf sounded, not far away. Not far at all. In fact, Sorális knew that if these ruins were not in the way, she would be able to see a beast a few paces away.

Kalé turned to her, and she expected a stern or fearful expression, but he was smiling. Why on earth would he be happy about this? It would soon be a fight wouldn't it?

The wolf howled again, this time it was closer. So close in fact that it prompted Sorális to look around.

Damn it.. the trees are distorting the sound. I can't tell where it's coming from.

The merchant was looking up, toward a pillar. A wolf howled again. It was a deep, guttural sound, filled with frustration.

Sorális neared Kalé in order to protect him from any attacking beasts, but before she could pull him toward her by the shoulder, he raised his hand up toward the pillar and snapped his fingers.

The howling stopped.

Soralis blinked. What was even going on? She could protect Kale from the wolf quite easily but… why was he not concerned?

In spite of the situation as she perceived it, she kept a calm mind. That is, until she felt movement behind her. Something dropped down from above. Wasting no time, she instinctively brought forth one of her twin thrusting blades, bloodflame erupting from her hand, yet when she turned to attack, her arm was unable to move.

In front of her stood a tall man. He wore a set of beautifully made silver armor. Soralis remembered that. It meant that he was royalty. Her eyes darted further up, there was a crest on his chestplate that Soralis did not recognize. Over his shoulders lay a wolfskin cloak. That would explain the scent of a beast, if it was a freshly made cloak but the howling-

Soralis’ eyes moved further up- and her question was answered. A maw of razor sharp teeth, made for snapping bones in half was what she beheld. A fuzzy muzzle, a wet nose. This man had the head of a wolf!

Soralis pulled back immediately, attempting to attack with her other piercer, manifesting it as well, but again, she was stopped. He had grabbed her arm, and after that, all movement seemed impossible. She could tell by his expression that he was not applying a significant amount of strength… She could also tell that he did not mean to harm her. Soft sapphire eyes looked on calmly.

The wolf-man glanced at Kale.

“It seems that you haven’t told your companion about me.”

His voice was between the lines of deep and average. He was soft spoken and his tone was friendly.

Soralis’ blades faded away. Not because she decided they should, but because she no longer felt like she was in danger. The wolf let go of her.

“All’s well that ends well, old friend. I know you to be a gentleman.”

The wolf chuckled in response, retaining a pleasant expression Soralis wasn’t sure she could call a smile.

“Do I look that odd to you, girl?”

Soralis searched within her mind, trying to find anything that would give her a slight idea of what he was, but she couldn’t find anything. The only thing she could think of was a demihuman, those short little creatures, running around with their clubs. No, the wolf did not seem to be one of them, even if they range in sizes and appearances. He was too refined, too civil.

She looked him up and down again. Nothing.

“It’s just that I don’t quite understand… What you are?...”

Her response sounded quite like a question. Questions, she had a lot of those, gained simply by looking at him. She understood by now that they were here to meet him.

“The name’s Blaidd. I’m a half-wolf.”

He explained, his friendly tone remaining. Soralis’ confusion did not bother him at all.

The half-wolf’s ear twitched as a passing fly disturbed him. He turned to Kale.

“So what brings you here, old friend?”

He asked the merchant as he approached. Soralis followed closely and stood next to Kale, facing the wolf. Kale may have known him, but she didn’t.

“We’ve been in the mistwood for a while now. Me, this young girl here called Soralis, and another companion of ours. I heard your howling a few days ago. It could only be you. Wolves don’t usually wander this far from Stormhill.”

Blaidd nodded in understanding.

“I see. And ever the busybody, you decided to come seek me out.”

Kale smiled at the remark, but his eyes darkened as he intended to continue.

“Yes, yes, but that’s not all. We’re here seeking your help.”

Blaidd tilted his head, awaiting more information.

“We’re investigating the murder of one of our friends”

Soralis, who held a passive expression, glanced downward, frowning slightly.

“We suspect it to be one of the Bloody Fingers. We even found another corpse here earlier today, drained.”

Blaidd’s tail swished.

“I’m looking for a rogue knight! Perhaps it was him? Whereabouts did you find the body?”

Soralis noticed that his disposition completely changed. Instead of being calm and composed he was now excited, ecstatic even. As soon as he heard about a clue pointing toward this knight of his.

“We found it in the southern parts of Mistwood, but we suspect it was a giant dragonfly. If not, it must’ve been the Bloody Finger we’re after.”

Soralis explained to the wolf.

His tail stopped moving, and he regained his composure. He calmed, clearing his throat.

“I see. Darriwil could not have drained the body either way. But… After I’m done with this part of the woods, I’ll go south. It must be a sign.”

The wolf looked on into the distance, down south. Soralis couldn’t understand how his train of thought brought him to this. He was practically still wading through it all blindly.

“I take it you haven’t noticed anything then?”

Kale inquired, and the half-wolf shook his head.

“Alright then. We’d better be going then. Our ally awaits us. We’ll keep looking for clues in the south. It was nice seeing you again, old friend.”

Blaidd met Kale’s words with a stern look and a nod. As the merchant and the girl left, they heard his howling again. The frustration was still there, but with a hint of sadness.

 

Southern Mistwood. Night.

Ash of War: Piercing Fang

Yura slammed his foot down and dashed forward, Nagakiba held up over his head and pointed directly at the runebear.

The beast reacted swiftly despite Yura’s incredible speed. It slashed toward him with a clawed paw, but that didn't stop his attack.

Nagakiba pierced through the bear’s front leg, and with an upward slice, it was off. Having closed the distance, Yura slashed at the bear sideways, aiming at its stomach, where it was vulnerable.

The bear stumbled due to a loss of balance. The angle was bad, the slash was too shallow.

With his energy depleted, Yura knelt down in front of the beast, using his blade to balance himself.

“Fuck…”

He muttered as he glanced at the slobbering beast. It was staring at him, eyes full of rage. It was no longer hunting him out of hunger. It breathed rapidly, its eyes like hot coals.

Yura shut his eyes as it roared right in his face. He had to move. He had to move right in that moment. He could feel it. The cold embrace of imminent death. He knew he couldn't die here. He knew he would NOT die here. Eleonora was still out there… suffering that horrible curse.

The beast stood up on it's two hind legs, it's severed arm bleeding profusely. It was going to strike him soon. It was slow. Slower than before. It's claws neared, he gritted his teeth. His hands moved instinctively. He held his blade up by it's handle, and set his other hand behind it defensively.

The bear broke through that defense quite easily. Yura was sent flying. He tumbled through bushes, and slammed back first into a tree. He tried to take a breath in. He could only manage a shallow one before the pain hit him. He set his hand on his chest. Blood. He must've broken a few ribs.

He had to move. No matter how much it hurt, he had to move. He reached for Nagakiba with his right arm. It was beside him. He attempted to grasp for it, but didn't feel it. Could he not move his hand?

He glanced at it weakly. His fingers were contorted. His hand in an unnatural position, nearly turned in the exact opposite position.

He fought off a feeling of defenselessness and slowly slumped over to grab his blade with his other arm.

Despite all this he stood, his right arm dangling. A stick had stuck through his thigh, and his whole body was bruised and battered.

He knew it, he could only manage a few more swings. He couldn't move out of the way if the bear attacked again. And so it would.

The beast limped in his direction, hate seething out of its red hot optics. As it spotted Yura again, it broke into a run… it truly did want to kill him with all its heart. He never knew animals could feel hatred.

It roared loudly as it lunged for him. Its jaws open wide. If it didn't manage to maul him, it would definitely crush him. He braced for impact. His blade would strike as soon as the beast was in range, but could he be as precise as he was with his right arm?

He closed his eyes to intensify his focus. Even if he died here, he would at least die trying.

He had heard about people seeing their whole lives flash before their eyes when death neared. All he saw was Eleonora. Her beautiful brown eyes. Her heartwarming smile. He wished Sorális would save her in his stead. He really did.

The hunter opened his eyes again. The moment had come. He slashed upward. He would at least take the beast down with him by cutting its head in half.

There was no resistance as he slashed. His eyes saw the crimson of blood amidst a raging bolt of fire. Sorális; her piercers still in the middle of being materialized in her hands as she struck the beast with such speed that it hurtled sideways.

It lay there, motionless. Sorális pulled her piercer out of its skull, holding it down with her boot.

The girl immediately broke into a sprint, nearly falling over as she knelt by his side.

Ah, she was so worried. She was asking him if he was alright. No, no he wasn't. He could barely breathe, barely walk, barely speak. But he managed this:

“I… found… our killer…”

Chapter Text

No. No. No No NO!

This couldn’t be happening. Not again. There were so many wounds. A stab wound on his thigh, lacerations, bruises. His hand, his hand was facing the wrong way. Tears welled up in her eyes. Her heart hurt. It hurt so so bad. What could she even do? Yura… Yura…. A hand took hold of her shoulder. Who was it? It didn’t matter. It wasn’t real. All she knew was that the world was falling apart. Yura… Yura!... Her mind blanked…

Raphael…

Hopeless… Isn’t it my sweet… Little… Lambkin?

Soralis gasped. Yura was no longer in front of her. Actually, she was no longer beside him. She found herself in a place unknown yet not unfamiliar. She could not see much of anything, despite that breathtaking night sky up above… Yes… It was always perpetually stuck that way. A sunset.

Before her she saw a figure. It was fuzzy. Dressed in white garb, wearing a white mask. For some reason it sent chills down her spine. She tried to move, but couldn’t.

“No, no, my sweet. You won’t be able to move until you use what I’ve taught you.”

The figure approached, walked past her. It stopped. She could feel that it stopped. She could also feel the ocean of malice that lay within it.
“Do you not remember the words? A prayer to our one true goddess! We do what we do in her name! We spill blood in her name, we KILL in her name, and you don’t remember the words for a prayer to praise her?”

Soralis braced. She knew this. She remembered this. She remembered what came next.

“You disappoint me, Lambkin.”

The sound of his weapon unlatching from his belt. She had heard it so so many times. The first strike came, then the second, then the third. The sharp pain of many little blades digging into her skin. She knew it all too well by now. This wasn’t the first time this happened.

“Speak the words, girl!”

The merciless man spoke. Soralis mumbled to herself. She was crying. She remembered that she cried every single time. Oh how she begged for it to stop.

“B-... By the grace of the mother-”

The girl screamed as he struck her harder. Blood streamed out of her bare back.

“Wrong, Lambkin. By the will of our mother.”

The figure struck again. Soralis felt the blades dig deeper this time. She bit her tongue. Blood filled her mouth. She knew that twisted figure was enjoying it. He was enjoying making her recite a prayer he’d only told her once. How was she supposed to not make mistakes?

He just wanted to hurt her. The girl knew she wouldn’t win, and that she couldn’t win. This was a memory after all…

“By the will of our mother…”

She muttered to herself.

“All… will be…”

She could almost feel his glee as she trailed off.

“Put to the test…
For by every surviving other
All will be put to rest…”

Miraculously… She remembered. She didn’t know if it was by dumb luck or if her mind recalled it due to the severity of the situation but she did it. Her.. wounds. They were closing up. The prayer… It was a healing spell.

The white mask clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Well done, Lambkin… Now get those rags off and get into something befitting of a finger of lord Mohg… Lest I remind you what these petals feel like when they’re ablaze…”

He brandished his bladed mace and sliced his finger on one of the blades. Weirdly enough… soaked in crimson as it was… It looked like a bouquet of roses.

The memory faded. The only thing her conscious mind held onto was the healing prayer. She was back not a moment later. Back in the real world. She was her miserable sobbing self once again. Kale was shaking his head over Yura as she sat there helpless. A living corpse.

A corpse brought to life as soon as she remembered she could do something about this. Her body moved like clockwork, finely tuned. Her hand rested over his chest, his heart.

By the will of our mother
All will be put to the test
For by every surviving other
All will be put to rest

She thought it to herself. It still worked. Her accursed blood coursed through her body, and to the palm of her right hand. She funneled that blood through Yura’s heart. It carried magic within it. It carried magic that could heal, magic that had healed her before.

Should she care more about using that accursed blood to save Yura? Would he care? It didn’t matter. What mattered to her was that he made it out alive. She needed more power. His heartbeat was weak. She poured more of herself into the spell. Her eyes blazed a deep crimson as she gathered the energy from within herself. Kale moved back.

“Soralis… What are you doing?”

The merchant asked quietly. His eyes widened as he saw the bloodflame gather around the girl. She wondered what he thought of her. Those were the powers of a killer.

“I’m… Saving my friend.”

The fires blazed over the dying Yura. Though this time they weren’t guided to destroy, but to heal. To nurture. The lacerations closed up leaving no scar behind. The stick in his thigh burnt away, the wound it left gone. His hand, even his hand healed, slowly moving back into place.

Soralis leaned over the hunter, breathing heavily. The healing left her drained, but at least the color returned to Yura’s face. She set a hand on his chest. His heartbeat was stable… He’d live…

Things went dark.

 

Southern Mistwood, Beach

“Is there a reason why you come back here every day?”

The lapping of the waves calmed his mind. That overworking mind that wouldn’t let him forget. Not the cries of his friends as they were mercilessly slain, nor the cries of his victims, some of whom were not deserving of such brutal deaths.

Eitan regretted. Yes, he felt a sea of regret within him. It weighed him down so much that he couldn’t move forward. Gentle brown eyes took in the water, the golden-brown sand it endlessly threw itself onto.

“Didn’t you hear me?... Eitan?”

The near dream-like young woman that had been following him around spoke. Melina. In truth, he’d heard her. But what was he to say? He knew that he agreed to take her to the foot of the Erdtree, but how could he? How could he do this by himself? How could he do it when he was all alone?

Melina huffed as she fully materialized. She sat next to him, hugging her knees.

“We have time, if that’s what you need, but I’ll have you know I’ve already been trying to fulfil this goal for hundreds of years.”

Eitan shifted, looking at her with those eyes. He held no hurt within them. He just looked defeated. Was this the man who would manage to be by her side in this long and arduous journey?

At least when she found him, he was. The fire of his heart blazed. It spoke of his great potential. But now… It had withered. Just a tiny little spark. He was a husk of his former self, and she didn’t know what to do to help.

Perhaps she couldn’t help. It wouldn’t be the first time. Many a tarnished had failed her, but it was never like this. It was their bodies that broke, not their minds. It wouldn’t be fair to put him through anything else. He would find his way, eventually.

“Perhaps we should-..”

“I see them, still…”

Eitan interrupted her. Her mouth gaped. This had been the first time he said anything of substance in weeks. She leaned in closer, taken aback due to her own reaction. How many years had it been since she’d sincerely reacted to emotions? Definitely more than a century. All that mattered was the goal her mother left her with her final words.

Mend this broken world, child. I shall await you here after all is done.

In any case Eitan spoke to her, finally he spoke his mind. She could swear that the spark within him flickered.
“I can hear them call out to me… Sara… Celeste… Talos. I still remember that fiend laughing at me as my friends died…”

Melina listened intently. She sat down on the grass, resting her legs forward. She hoped that setting her hand on his shoulder would help him continue.

“And I just couldn’t…”

His voice broke. A shallow breath cut him off, his hands shaking. He breathed in deeply to calm himself. It seemed as if he didn’t even notice her hand on him.

“There was just so much blood… So much blood… And now? After I killed so many soldiers to get to him… It didn’t even feel like it meant something… My friends are still dead, and I’m still hurting. The fucker didn’t get what he deserved… He got off easy with death…”

Melina kept her amber eyes on his. She felt for him. She didn’t get to see these fights for herself, but she’d seen a bloody finger at work before. Many of her chosen were killed that way. The worst part was that she didn’t even remember some of them. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to be well acquainted with them before they were led off and culled in the name of an unknown deity.

Eitan sighed, slumping. Resignation filled his eyes.

“It doesn’t have to be like this.”

Melina spoke softly, still looking directly at him, her hand still on his shoulder.

“Well… It is, isn’t it?”

Eitan responded, speaking quietly. He didn’t mean to argue, she knew that. He only spoke his mind, his feelings.

“It is… You’re right. But maybe we can change it.”

The warrior looked up at her, full of question, confusion even. How?

That’s what he was asking her. How would they manage to do that?

She wanted him to go forward, to continue. Not just for her sake, not for the world’s sake, but for himself as well. She wanted him to live. To breathe again.

“I didn’t ask you to take me to the foot of the Erdtree just because I meant to travel there to see it… I plan to change things… To mend the Elden Ring..”

Eitan’s eyes widened. Melina continued.

“I know. It’s a grand goal, isn’t it?”

Explaining her heritage didn’t even cross her mind. Would he even believe her? She couldn’t demonstrate her power. Not until they made it to Leyndell.

“I don’t think I can help you… I don’t think I can do this.”

He turned back to the sea. He was giving up on himself. Why? She saw the spark light up, even if slightly, she was certain. He did in fact move forward when he opened up, yet now he took another step back. Melina found herself feeling frustration. Why wouldn’t he just believe in himself already?

“What are you so afraid of? Tell me!”

She spoke, perhaps a bit too loudly. The warrior glanced at her for a moment, then looked away. He kept silent. Back to the silence it was. Melina closed her eyes shut in resignation. She really did feel awful.

“I’m afraid of caring about anyone again.. That’s why I didn’t stay with the group. It would’ve been better for me to stay with the lot of them… But I know I’d start caring. Hell… I already do… I know that if anything happened to them… Raphael, Soralis… Yura, Kale… You… It would hurt so much my heart would break.”

He stood up. Melina’s hand slipped off of him.

“I can’t protect anyone. I’m not strong enough, nor will I ever be. That’s why I think you should find someone else to help you. I don’t believe in myself.”

He set off south. He truly was leaving her. Melina sensed a weird feeling swelling up within. Again, it had been a while. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but it got worse with every step he took away from her. She didn’t want it to end like this. He was the first tarnished she ever met she actually admired. Not for his strength, nor his wisdom, but for his heart.

She had never cared about a tarnished like this before, save for a normal amount of gratitude. They had agreed to put their lives on the line after all. To be this bothered though? Never. When a fire faded it was time to put it out and start anew, so why did she bother with these fading embers? She wanted to chase after him, to talk to him, plead with him, scream at him. He had something no one else had after all. Pure unadulterated…

_________________________

 

“Kindness… Or- To be good. What does it mean to you guys?”

Talos asked the group. It was one of their late night talks. Their campfire was still eager enough to keep going, and so were they. It had been a good day. The group entered a catacomb and defeated a watchdog; a large protector-golem. Thankfully, no one got hurt. Because of that, everyone was laid back.

“Not getting in other people’s way I suppose? I don’t mind others unless they bother me.”

Celeste explained. She was sitting sideways, right next to Sara.

“Well- I think there’s more to it than that. Sure, minding your own business is part of it… In certain cases that is…-”

Eitan stopped abruptly as Melina materialized behind Celeste and Sara, a haze of blue spiritual magic accompanying her.

“Greetings everyone. I hope you’re doing well.”

Sara smiled at Melina, earning her a smile back. The others simply nodded, and Eitan kept his eyes on her. She would sit with them like she used to, but she no longer felt welcome to.

This time she refrained from rejuvenating their campfire with her gift. Celeste was sure to go on a rant about what heresy it is to even possess that type of magic. If only she knew…

“Alright, I’ll be by torrent. Have a good night everyone.”

They watched her leave. Not a word uttered.

“Uhh alright, who wants another round of stew? I made some more just in case.”

Talos took the cooking pot off the fire and poured some stew for whoever was still hungry. Its scent made Eitan’s mouth water. It was a beef stew sided potatoes and spiced with a chilly powder. Simple, yet still a delicacy in the time after the shattering.

“Eitan, some more for you as well?”

The warrior nodded. He did want some, not for himself though. He held a wooden bowl in his hands, patiently waiting for Talos to serve him a portion.

Eitan felt the warmth seep through the bowl and into his hands as Talos emptied a ladle into it. The warrior promptly thanked him, and made his way to Melina.

She was standing next to Torrent, running a hand over his back. This spot was a ways away from the camp. The campfire seemed like a little ember in the distance.

“Wouldst thou not grace me with thine presence, oh maiden?”

Eitan said with a smile. Melina gave him a slight chuckle as she turned toward him. She eyed the bowl of stew for a moment, then looked back at him.

“Won’t you eat that? It’s going to get cold.” She asked.

He shook his head, handing it over to her.

“It’s for you. It’s about time you ate here with us for once.”

Melina smiled. She genuinely smiled when Eitan explained what the bowl was for. The world usually wasn’t so kind, but this wasn’t the only reason why she found his behaviour surprising. His friends were clearly cold to her, but he still treated her well. Just looking at him made her happy, so she dug in. She didn’t want to embarrass herself.

The maiden didn’t expect it, but she purred to herself at the first spoonful, sighing contentedly. The meat was so well done that it practically melted in the mouth, and the soup didn’t just feel like water, it was full flavor, made up of chopped up vegetables and potatoes.

She couldn’t remember when she had last eaten, let alone such a fulfilling dish. She had no need for food after all. Despite that, she was enjoying this so much that she didn’t notice Eitan smirking at her as she devoured the bowl of stew in less than a minute. To say that her face turned beet red would be true but not enough to explain quite how embarrassed she was.

She pointed at him and spoke.

“It was good enough for me to forget etiquette momentarily alright?”

Eitan couldn’t help but laugh at her.

“Ohh- It wouldn’t be funny if you didn’t make it funny”

Melina squinted her eyes and asked.

“How am I making it funny?!”

The warrior moved closer to her and whispered.

“You probably can’t even see how red your cheeks are right now”

The maiden stilled. He was getting to her and she wouldn’t have it, so she looked away in defiance.

“Well- I can’t but you won’t see it again either”

Melina couldn’t believe it herself but she was acting like a young girl. What would her mother think- acting like this in such trying times, with her task not yet completed. Well- knowing her she’d probably be amused, but in any case, Melina stopped herself by clearing her throat, regaining her composure.

“So… Why won’t you come sit with us? I know things are a bit tense but it's not something we can’t fix”

Eitan spoke softly, his eyes genuine. She liked how he could speak with them. Show what he feels just with them.
The maiden sighed quietly and turned back to Torrent, holding the empty bowl in one hand and stroking over the steed’s back with the other.

“Eitan. They don't want me there.”

The warrior sighed in response, moving closer to her. He didn't mean to intimidate, only to explain.

“Celeste was only warning you because she cares. I really doubt she meant to cast you out… she's been asking about you, you know.”

Melina drowned.

“Asking about me?.. has she been asking if I'm a heretical lunatic that runs around burning trees?”

She said quietly. Her feelings were conflicted. Should she be mad, or not? If Celeste regretted what she did, she shouldn’t have done it to begin with. How many times had she been told something like this, by how many people?

“No, no Melina. She’s worried about you. As am I.”

At the time she couldn’t realize why he would care about her in the slightest. She was at best, a burden to him, and every tarnished she’d asked for help. Human emotions like empathy escaped her… Or so she liked to think. It took something more than human to make it to the foot of the Erdtree and mend the Elden Ring after all.

“I'm sorry, but I just don't see that. She can't say whatever she wants and then play the sorry pup.”

Frustration, and perhaps something else… something older.. were building up within her.

“Melina, just come with me. She'll apologize for everything.”

The maiden gritted her teeth. She didn't belong. She was a danger. She couldn't be trusted.

“I can't.. I'm not like the others, Eitan. And… and why are you so concerned with where I decide to spend my time? I'd much rather be alone!”

She could immediately tell that that question hurt him. His eyes stared into the nothingness, yet still, he spoke to her softly.

“Melina I… I care because you matter to me. We travel together. You're a friend of mine, aren't you?... You're not different, you're just like anybody else, but special, like every single one of us. I don't want you to give up on yourself.. because I would never give up on you, so please. Come with me..”

He extended a hand toward her, his expression said nothing other than what he said with words. That was the first time she ever felt accepted.

She hesitantly took his hand. It was warm…

______

Mistwood, Beach

 

Eitan had walked a ways away, and he would continue if she didn't stop him. If she didn't Intervene.

Full of emotion, Melina bolted toward him as fast as she could.

“Eitan!... Eitan!” She cried out. The warrior turned his head slightly, still walking.

“Please stop!” She pleaded, and so he did.

She knew what it was she wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out easily. She came to a stop next to him. He had turned around to face her.

“I would never give up on you… so…”

His eyes lit up at that.

“Please… please don't give up on yourself…”

He gave her a sorrowful smile.

“You remembered…”

Of course she did… how could she not?

She saw it then… the spark within him… it caught on fire… it was small and weak.. but it was there. Melina let out a deep breath in relief, smiling. Her hands moved on their own. She grasped his, and gently caressed over his hardened knuckles.

Chapter Text

Yura had been stable for a few days. Soralis was uncertain about the cause, but he lived. If he didn’t wake up soon she’d go find the killer alone. That being said, she didn’t really know where she had to look or what they looked like. That information laid with Yura and Yura alone. If she knew one thing about her former kin though, it was that they would never abandon a hunt. Yura was still marked as a target, lest the finger who first tried to drain him be seen as incapable.

Hell, she couldn't leave! If she did, she'd risk Yura getting attacked again.
A hand tapped on her shoulder. Her piercers immediately burst out of her palms instinctively. She would strike through the enemy right here, right now. She thrust her arm forward as she turned-

“Woah- Soralis-”

Kale spoke in surprise. The girl froze, the emotions within her culminating into a frown as she realized what she had almost done. Her piercers melted away almost as fast as they manifested. She stood there, staring through him. She knew that he’d be looking at her in disappointment, or perhaps that his face would look on, like a stone. Expressionless. Maybe this truly was all she was, a bloodthirsty beast. How could she ever be trusted with that blood coursing through her veins?

She almost didn’t believe it, and certainly didn’t expect it, but Kale hugged her. He held her close, without an intention of letting go. She wanted to question him about it, or push him away. She didn’t deserve it.

“It’s okay.”

He said to her softly, his hands moving along her back gently. He held on, and her feelings gathered. They gathered and became tears, streaming down her face. Those tears brought on sobs, and in response Kale pulled back to wipe her tears away.

“It’s alright Soralis. Here, I’ll cook something up, and you can scribble away on your sketchbook, okay?”

She nodded repeatedly, sniffled, and sat down by the campfire. Under different circumstances they wouldn’t have lit one, but with such a big runebear dead, the rest of them wouldn’t wander into this territory for a few days, at least that’s what Kale said.

He was cooking up vegetable broth. With Yura out of commission, she couldn’t go hunting, so they only had Kale’s wares. If she knew him well, he was probably holding on to preserved meat for emergencies.

She tried to catch every single detail as he sat on a log by the fire. He stirred the broth with a wooden spoon, adding various spices at different times. He was probably following a recipe he knew well. She knew. She knew because he was very focused, as if he was recalling his past actions. She liked it. Watching him as he cooked. She did that a lot when they first met. Back in the ruins of the church of Elleh. Hell, she didn’t even notice how quick six months went by, but hardship would do that to anyone, she assumed.

“It’s ready”

Kale made his way to her, holding two handcrafted bowls full of broth. He’d sprinkled a bit of parsley over it for a finish, she could tell. She smiled as he handed her the bowl. She dug in near immediately.

The merchant took notice of the drawing of him on the sketchbook that rested on her thighs. If she’d looked at him in that moment, she’d realize that his weary eyes looked slightly less weary, as if the pain of his past was alleviated,even if by a small margin.

“About what happened a few days ago. About the bloodflame. About you using that power…”

The girl brought a full spoon down instead of putting the food in her mouth. She listened, even though she was afraid of what he could say. His thoughts really mattered to her. His… perception of her even more so. She knew she was cursed, and she knew she was a threat, especially not that she tapped into that power. She was essentially a-

“You’re no monster.”

The girl struggled to contain her tears. How could he-

“I can see it in your face Soralis… The way you see yourself. The guilt you feel, the sadness…”

She looked at him, her eyes showing hurt, but the good kind. The kind that sets you free. He motioned toward himself, prompting her to come in for a hug. The girl smiled, setting the sketchbook and bowl aside and crumbling into his embrace.

“I understand, Soralis. So you should never fear rejection from me. We are kindred spirits.”

Kindred spirits… She allowed herself to feel safe in the hug for a while longer. Just a while longer, but as soon as she felt stable enough she urged herself to pull back again. Kale didn’t say a word on it.

The girl’s mind wandered. He didn’t just understand her. He’d been through something similar hadn’t he? But how? He was just a merchant? Perhaps that was what he meant when he mentioned that he’d talk to her about his past… someday. She wouldn’t ask. He never looked like he wanted to talk about it. Today was no different.

“Thank you Kale… For being here with me. I’ve been so lost ever since I returned. I don’t know what I would do without you. Especially now.”

He chuckled in response. His eyes were filled with warmth. Had he not looked so happy, she would have guessed it was just a glint caused by the campfire.

“You were the one who saved me, Soralis. It’s not the other way around. You see… You found me while I was contemplating revenge…”

The girl furrowed her brows. Revenge? Kale? He was never like that, not since she met him.

“That flower I sent you to gather. It was meant to be used against those knights. Gloveworts, flowers of that kind, have the ability to empower spirits. I would’ve used the spirit of an old knight to cut them down… But instead I used it to save us from that Tree Sentinel. In the end, I didn't even manage to use the flower in time. Here, I still have it.”

He pulled it out of a satchel and gave it to her. A small, pale flower. It glowed slightly. It was very pretty. Soralis held it in her hand, careful as to not ruin it.

“I sent you to retrieve it. That errand could have very well killed you. I’m so, so sorry.”

Soralis wanted to think about this, to contemplate and feel, but she just… couldn’t. She didn’t see him any differently.

“...Things are fine now though…”

Is all she could manage.

“I don’t want you worrying about the past when it comes to me. Let’s focus on what’s happening right now. We just need to wait until Yura wakes up and-... Then we can deal with the threat.”

Kale’s eyes brimmed with guilt and suffering.

“Soralis, how can you say you don’t want me to worry about the past? I was too focused on revenge to think about your safety. About YOUR safety when it was you who made me care about anything else other than getting back at Leyndell, at the golden order for what they did to my people.”

The girl understood why he hurt. It was the same as when she used the Lord’s blood, putting everyone at risk. Even now, she couldn’t know if she would thirst for carnage. Like the others. Like Nerijus.

She knew he was a monster now, but she also knew that they all came from the same place. The white mask had his time with each and every one of them. All so that they would kill in the name of their Lord.

She sighed as she looked Kale in the eyes.

“I almost killed you today.”

She said plainly.

“If I’m deserving of forgiveness, if I’m deserving of the way you treated me after that… Then so are you for being lost in your feelings…”

Kale listened, and huffed. Soralis could almost hear him thinking, trying to make things make sense in his mind as he kept his eyes on the campfire. She didn’t remember herself being good at providing comfort. She supposed that things hadn’t really changed much, but even so, everything she could recall before being washed up on the beach and meeting Kale was simply a blur. Many cuts in between memories, and way too many blanks to fill. She still didn’t know who she was. Was she any different back then? The other fingers… Did they mean anything to her? How did she end up on that beach? She needed answers. She was owed answers.

“Is this a bad time to ask for some water?”

Yura rasped from where he was laying. Soralis was instantly up, rushing to get him what he needed.

______________________________________________________________________

Limgrave, Southern Mistwood, Dawn

The warrior stood up as soon as he could. The sun had barely risen, yet he was already up and ready. He had made a miraculous recovery in just four days. Broken ribs, flesh wounds, a hand nearly torn off and an arm fracture all gone. What was most curious about this was that even the discomfort from the time he hurt his back was gone.

That injury was from the old days. Boy had it been a tough dragon hunt. He may very well have died if Eleonora wasn’t there to save him, ever the thrillseeker.

These thoughts blew away as he gathered what he could from when last he was conscious. He was dying. He was extremely close to death yet somehow he survived. He felt his body mending under a calming warmth until he passed out. A flame… Soralis.. Her eyes blazing.

He made his right hand- which was contorted to an abnormal degree a few days ago into a fist. No discomfort. The girl had used the flame on him. He thought to reach for his sword. Fingers thirsted for blood when they used their magic.That’s how it was. They used it as energy for their spells, so they needed to replenish it upon use.

“You should rest a bit longer. I can’t know that you’re ready to hunt for our killer again.”

Yura stopped himself from drawing his blade. He willed his instincts to a stop. It was Soralis. He turned around to face her, with his back toward the rising sun.

“You used blood magic to heal me didn’t you?”

He asked her sternly.

Soralis’ eyes betrayed her. Yes she did. She already felt guilty about it, but his tone didn’t help with it.

“Yes. I did.”

She said passively.

Yura noticed that she… Looked different. Her hair ended in a long braid that laid over her shoulder and reached her chest. A beautiful white flower reminiscent of a Lilium. He remembered her to seem… Less meek as well. Yura wanted to argue with her, but it would do no good. Instead, he turned his back to her again.

“We should probably start searching again.”

Silence hung between them.

“Mhm..”

She responded.

“I don’t have any other leads. I’ve just been waiting for you to wake up, so. Tell me what you know.”

Yura remained silent for a bit. Soralis thought she might go back to the camp, maybe give him some time, but as soon as that thought surfaced, Yura spoke.

“It was a woman. She wore the surcoat Kenneth Haight’s soldiers wear. I would assume she is pretending to be one of them.”

Soralis nodded, making sure to memorize the information. Fort Haight was not at all far. It would take them ten minutes to make it there. This could be settled tonight. Maybe she could get a glimpse into her past from this.

“I should also warn you that she is nimble and smart. The reason why I was fighting a Runebear is because I was ambushed and then trapped. In a fair fight, you could easily defeat her. I just doubt it’d be one.”

This fighting style. It didn’t ring a bell, but she was certain that once she neared the killer, memories would come back to her, and they definitely wouldn’t be pleasant.

Soralis lingered for a moment despite feeling unwelcome. At that moment, Yura took a deep breath and let it out. It reminded her of her own breathing while fighting. More of a technique than a simple bodily function. The man turned his head to look at her sideways.

“Let’s go kill that beast.”

The girl didn’t expect him to speak to her. Not when she had used something so vile to help him. What gave her hope was the determination in his eyes. They still had a common goal and this wouldn’t get between them.

*

They were nearing Fort Haight. Soralis insisted that Kale would be safer with them than he’d be alone at the campsite so he was forced to tag along. I can take care of myself. He protested, but Soralis didn’t want to return and see something akin to what happened to Raphael, or what almost happened to Yura. She wouldn’t let it happen again, and to do that, she had to give in to the thing that awakened within her during the fight with Nerijus. She needed its help, no matter how monstrous it may be.

It being monstrous did not help with the fact that it found its way in whenever she used her gifts, most notably when she fought Nerijus. That’s when most of the blur came back to her. The Lord, the other fingers. Seeing them warped her personality to something else. Something alien. Something fearless, calculating and vicious… Yet- She could have sworn that it was still herself.

Either way she let those thoughts dissipate. She would do what she had to when the time came.

Fort Haight was in sight as they walked out of the forest. Soralis’ first thought as she saw it was: “How in the hell are we going to find her in there?”
The fort was, plainly put huge. Even with the killer in there, it would be quite likely that the killer sensed their presence and left. Or-... Not. Yura was still a prime target because he survived her assault.

“That does look like it’ll be difficult for us to find her in, right?”

Soralis asked Yura. The hunter grunted his agreement. Still not really willing to talk. The girl understood him. She hated the fact that she used her bloodflame on him as well.

“Oh. Look over there. It seems they’re coming toward us.”

Indeed, a group of soldiers had just walked out of the main gate, all armed to the teeth, spears and shields in hand, swords in their scabbards, and armor on their bodies that seemed better- more expensive than what a simple foot soldier would wear. It’s either that Haight took very good care of his soldiers, or he’d sent his personal guard to them.

The soldiers had marched past the southwest tower, walking parallel to the sea the fort was overlooking. Simple wooden gates were opened by other soldiers for them to get out of a barricaded area.

The girl knew it was a time of battle, but the corpses slumped against the barricade were not a nice sight, even if they wore a coat of arms she didn’t quite recognize. She squinted, trying to see, and trying to recall.

“Those were Godrick’s soldiers. Well- still are. He may still have uses for them..”

Kale explained. Soralis would’ve liked to know more, but the highest ranking of the soldiers- distinct due to a blue-gold cape trailing off of his back, spoke to them.

“Travellers! Lord Haight wishes for you to have an audience with him! We shall escort you to Fort Haight. We can guarantee your safety.”

Soralis asked before anyone could.

“What does this concern? We too have business with Lord Haight, but we must know what this is about.”

The captain of the guard nearly said something he most likely shouldn't have. His facial expression changed completely twice before he continued: “Our Lord recognized the Bloody Finger Hunter, Yura. It seems that we require his services. Come with us, Lord Haight will explain it better than I ever could”.

Yura and Soralis looked at each other. With a nod in between them, they decided to go. If Haight knew something about the killer, even better. He may have had leads they would have never found.

“Should I-”

Kale attempted to ask, yet the captain of the guard responded before he could.

“Your… companion may join you on this. Lord Haight is no brute. You will all be dining with him as well.”

Kale and Soralis exchanged a glance. She gathered that he wasn’t quite so sure about this, yet he came anyway. She’d keep him safe no matter what. The girl gave him a reassuring smile before they walked forward, accepting the invitation.

*

Being in a massive fort, surrounded by towering stone walls definitely felt a hell of a lot safer than being out in the woods did. Soldiers all around them worked tirelessly. Some carried wooden stakes for the barricade, other carried various weapons to sharpen them. Hell, some even held boxes of food ingredients. Those she envied.

“The main keep is up ahead, just follow us through the courtyard. We wouldn’t want to disturb anyone.” The captain of the guard said bluntly.

Soralis followed his instructions in silence, but she suddenly realized something.

“Yura- you’ve met Kenneth Haight? He couldn’t have known it was you without your hat-”

Yura nodded. Indeed, no one could have known what he looked like. The warrior had changed significantly as well, so he couldn’t be easily recognized from that far away. He held his long black hair in a bun, and a scruff of a beard covered his face.

“I came here on my investigation, but they said they had no reports of murders like what I described to them. Maybe… That’s changed”

Soralis nodded. They were surrounded by people on every side, yet she still didn’t feel another bloody finger nearby. She usually could due to the blood realm that connected them all, but this time… nothing. She knew that Yura was doing the same thing, using his own senses.
They all remained ever-vigilant as the courtyard was now behind them. The great iron doors to the main keep were already open, and the scent of burning wood, entwined with a pleasant aroma hit Soralis’ nose.

In front of them stretched a long table. Long enough to seat at least one hundred people. Soralis wondered whether or not this would see use. Perhaps Lord Haight dined with his soldiers. Or maybe- they ate here.

“Welcome, esteemed guests!”

A voice echoed from above. Soralis raised her head. There, over a great hearth there was an overlook where- The girl assumed Kenneth Haight stood. He assumed a regal posture, and wore expensive-looking silken robes. Wavy golden hair sat atop a gaunt face. He wasn’t in his best shape it seemed.

Despite the Lord’s welcome, no one said anything in response. Yura was no doubt too pissed at Soralis to speak to anyone. The thought was still circling her mind.

“Do you mean to offend our Lord?” The captain of the guard spat in outrage. His hand going to draw his blade. Yet again, no one spoke. Yura looked at him as if he saw no human there. Just. A. Thing. Soralis cut in. “No. We did not. Lord Haight, we’re in a hurry, so, if any formalities are in order, I implore you to skip over them.”

Kale tilted his head. “When did you learn to be so polite?” He said quietly. Soralis’ eyes spoke volumes. A shadow glinted in them that told Kale what he needed to know.

I’ve served a lord before.

She thought to herself.

“Why yes of course, let us convene as soon as possible. I would not have invited you on such short notice had this not been an emergency. And- Sir Gerald- Calm down please, you might cause trouble.”

The captain of the guard turned red like a beet, but responded nonetheless.

“Yes sir!”

This… Procession continued for a few more minutes. The guards continued with them through the dining hall. Despite the situation, Soralis still noted a painting depicting a dazzling night sky. At that, she also noticed that the keep was beautifully decorated with potted plants and ornate furniture. Perhaps it wasn’t just a fort to Haight. It was also a home.

They walked over a staircase leading up, and upon reaching a crossroads they took a left. Tapestries showing the Erdtree were hewn into the left wall. Kale looked away upon noticing them. Soralis couldn’t help but feel that under different circumstances they would be hated for who they were, but those in power tended to make what use they could of misfits such as them.
Yura moved ahead without a word. She hadn’t gotten a glimpse into his eyes ever since they left their campsite. She decided to herself that they would talk about this as soon as this was done with. She couldn’t bear to lose a friend over this, but it was his choice after all. She didn’t want to suffer this either.

The door to Haight’s chambers was straight ahead. It was made of solid metal. Upon seeing it she knew that not even her bloodflame, even if she used the full extent of her powers, would be able to pierce or melt through that. What was the purpose of such a grand defense when you lived in a fort?

“After you.” The Captain of the guard spoke as another soldier opened the door for them, its hinges crying out as it moved. As they walked in, Soralis noticed that the soldiers that walked behind her followed them in, the captain too. The room was… A little crowded to say the least. Haight was sitting down behind a desk, a knight on either side of him, both in full plate armor.

The door closed behind them before anyone could say anything. The guards seemed to be trying not to look at them. One of them in particular glanced away as soon as Soralis set eyes on him. He was… Nervous, beads of sweat building up on his face. Yura saw it too. His hand on the handle of his blade.

“Figured it out, haven’t you?” His hand moved by itself, drawing his blade out only by an inch. The guards followed suit, drawing their blades in a chorus of metal purring on scabbard. “Only a tad bit too late…”

Kenneth Haight stood up. “Welcome, welcome!” He feigned enthusiasm, then swapped to a cold stare at Soralis. “Hm… I hadn’t expected it to be this easy… You evaded me for months yet… Now you decide to just… Openly use your magic… And then you trot into my fort as if it's nothing? I’m not buying it, Finger of Mohg.”

Yura gritted his teeth as he drew his Nagakiba the rest of the way and held it in front of himself. He glanced at Soralis who was simply standing there in disbelief. He nodded at her. What was he implying? That she drew her blades here? Prove him right? Yes, she used to be a Finger of Mohg, but no longer. Now she simply used the power.

With a deep breath, her piercers burst forth from her palms in an instant. Haight’s eyes widened. He chuckled to himself as he saw it. “It WAS her! How many of our comrades have we found dead simply because of ONE sadistic beast? Kill her now!” The lord ordered. The knights went to move before Yura roared: “WAIT.”

Haight gaped at the warrior, yet he raised an arm, ordering his soldiers to stand by.

“Speak, Yura. I do you the courtesy for before your transformation you were once a noble man.”

The warrior nodded. “You’ve got things wrong sir.”

“LORD!” The captain corrected.
“My Lord.” Yura continued. “Yes, Soralis here used to be a Finger of Mohg, though she barely remembers any of it. I can say with confidence that she is now fighting for peace alongside me. Together, we put an end to Nerijus.”

Murmur echoed through the room. Kenneth Haight spoke: “Nonsense. Nerijus was taken out by the Erdtree Knights! We received a formal message saying so. It was Sir Wyll of Leyndell who landed the killing blow!”

Soralis let her annoyance be known. “Tsk.”

Haight turned his attention to her. “Got something to say, beast?”

“If I really was what you accuse me of, none of you would be alive right now. The Fingers are indeed bloodthirsty beasts. Every last one of them. Yet, somehow you all stand? Somehow I haven’t yet claimed a life.”

Kenneth Haigh rolled his eyes as he retorted. “Don’t try to weasel your way out of this you sly creature, we both know this won’t be bloodless.”

Soralis shot him a glance, and then she felt it. That scent… That feeling.. She knew it well. Too well. She pinpointed it to the knight on the right side of Haight. As she looked at him she could have sworn she caught a red glint through the eyehole. A glance over at Yura, then back to the knight. Yura noticed it too. His grip on Nagakiba tightened. Good.

The girl kept on eyeing the knight as Haight spoke in the background. It all sounded muffled to her. The whole world was just him and her right now. “Kale. Do your best to get out of here.” She spoke calmly. “If it comes down to it, I’ll provide support.”

Kale didn’t have enough time to respond. In a red flash the knight unsheathed his blade, and was already upon her. His blade was coated in an iridescent flame as he slashed downward. Soralis moved to the side but Yura had already redirected the hit, steel blades shrieking as they clashed.

Haight stood by, his mouth agape. His soldiers too, kept their swords drawn but were enthralled by the spectacle, every single one of them in utter disbelief.

“What is the meaning of this! Jeffrey- Cease this madness immediately!” The Lord commanded.

“He’s not in there anymore you bloody halfwit!” Yura yelled out at him as he exchanged a blow with the mad knight, reeling back.

The knight readied another attack, his greatsword blazing red. Everyone except Soralis and Yura took steps back, hoping to avoid the next attack. The girl noted that Kale was no longer in the room. As she suspected, he did have tricks up his sleeve.

Flames burst out of his armor, and he let out a bellowing laugh. In another burst of fire, he took his helmet off, annoyed.

“Ahh… Much better.”

Soralis’ mind worked again as soon as she saw him. Images blazed in her head, was it-... No… He was much lesser. Yes. This was not the time to be taken back by memories. She steadied herself, staring at the disfigured knight. Horns grew out of his forehead, twisting and entwining. His teeth were sharp and long, like needles, and his eyes were bloodshot, near bulging.

“Whoever made you didn’t care about your safety…”

Soralis spoke softly. The knight only growled in response.

“LONG LIVE THE LORD OF BLOOD!”

With a slash toward her, he unleashed a wave of bloodflame. She easily countered with her piercers, basically flicking the flame away. She’d have dashed forward immediately, Yura following close behind no doubt if not for the soldier behind her crying out in pain, having caught on fire.

“Set it out! Men! Hurry!” Kenneth ordered, and his soldiers obeyed, setting a rag over the burning soldier and holding it down. In response the soldier growled, the hue of his voice changing, his body changing. In an instant- whoever it was, was up, slashing with their sword and cutting a soldier’s arm off. The meek boy that was staring at Soralis. He passed out immediately.

“Watch where you fire your flames” The changed soldier spoke “… I almost had her~” The voice was now feminine, speaking in a singsong manner. She held a shortsword and a brass shield at the ready. Her tone, despite sounding soft and gentle, held an ocean of murderous intent behind it. Soralis knew that if they were alone, the knight would probably be executed on the spot.

“It’s her… Our killer” Yura explained as he paced back, Soralis with her. They kept both of them in view. Soralis recognized her. That was… Sena… Bloody Finger Sena.

“Attack the traitors!” Haight cried out. He finally put two and two together.

All hell broke loose as Haight’s soldiers joined the fray.

Most of them targeted the maddened knight, but he cut two of them down with little to no effort. He attacked Haight’s remaining knight with a mailed fist, denting his helmet inward. The knight fell and didn’t rise again.

Seeing that, no one even deigned to approach Sena. Even normal humans could feel a finger’s bloodlust. A feeling so strong it expressed itself through their presence, almost like an aura around them, and Sena’s… Engulfed the whole fort at that moment.

She walked toward Soralis slowly. Yura stood by her side to protect her, but Sena motioned at him with a head movement, sending the maddened knight after him in an instant.

“How many years has it been, Soralis?... A few decades? You were the best of us… Ah… It was so disrespectful of you to vanish like that… You left us all in the dark… Eleonora… Raven… We… We went through so much without you.”

Soralis wanted to find that part of herself. The part to which those names meant something. She frantically searched within her mind for it as the Bloody Finger approached. She raised her piercers as Sena dashed forward. The world turned red. She found nothing.

Blood Realm
Soralis

 

Soralis opened her eyes. The world around her was familiar. She lay on the surface of a still, bottomless ocean of blood. She stared upward, her eyes tired. A faint light shone down upon her, doing nothing to illuminate the thick and never-ending expanse of deep crimson beneath her. This ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, and other than the faint light that came down on her from a hole in the sky, this world was dark. It happened again, that surge of memories. Her old self was here, conscious. It felt as if another person was standing right next to her, within her mind.

There, in the distance, she noticed the other finger walking toward her slowly.

Sena… How long has it been… What has become of you, my friend…

Another voice spoke. Its sorrowful tone apparent. He could almost see her standing beside herself. Somehow she knew that it wasn’t just a voice. It was someone, someone she knew well. Beside herself, within her mind, stood her old self. All of her former memories. Soralis could see her standing there.

Her hair was pure silver, holding a glow like an eternal moon. It was tidied up in a long braid, reaching her upper back. Her eyes were bloodshot, like a true bloody finger, veins showing around them.
Her silver armor glinted, accented with red jewels. She wore it over red and black robes, signifying a noble status in Lord Mohg’s hierarchy. Her cape fell down over her back, reaching the surface of the blood ocean.

Her old self turned around to look at her. Despite obviously being a bloody finger, Sorális could see the kindness within her. The silver haired girl smiled at her gently, a smile that reached her eyes. She didn't speak, but Sorális could hear her words.

It's alright… that you don't remember them, I mean.

The girl faced downward, stilling.

“What am I meant to do?... They mean a lot to you, don't they?”

Her old self smiled once more. A smile that soon turned into a scowl.

Yeah…

She admitted, looking away.

But even so… there are truths you're not ready to face. Not yet… stay your path, Sorális… free them of this… I know it well. There will be no salvation for us.

Sorális tried to reach out and touch the girl. Her palm landed on the silver haired girl’s cheek. It felt cold, but it was there. She leaned into the touch, but then took Sorális' hand with her own and held it in front of her.

You have a family to save, Sorális… and a life to live with them.

She continued as her eyes darted to Séna, still approaching in the distance.

It won't be long…

Sorális glanced at the bloody finger as well. She could already feel the malice drawing near.

I let her down… let them all down… so don't blame them for what they've become… it was beyond their control… be… be gentle with them…. Our-... My friends…

With those final words the apparition- if it was one, disappeared. Sorális wished she could talk to her more.. for hours, days perhaps.

“Pale Bloody Finger Sorális… the strongest of us.. the champion of Nokron… a bringer of peace and prosperity… what a joke you are…”

Séna finally stopped walking, only a few paces away from Sorális.

“I don't want this… Séna..”

Sorális said softly, yet with a hint of warning in her words. She eyed the other bloody finger, whose eyes had widened. Was it because she said her name?

“So you remember at least. You remembered and you never came back… do you know what he did to me?”

Séna spat out, her sword and shield held to the side, definitely not combat ready. She complained like a toddler, letting her emotions surface. Raw uncontained frustration bubbled through her as she continued.

“I believed you’d come back, you know. For years… nearly ten years I was tortured day in, day out, day in day out! The White Mask… damn him… damn YOU!”

She yelled at her. If Séna hadn't been for most of every day for years she'd be crying, but she had no more tears to cry for Sorális. Or for her own suffering.

Sorális called her piercers forward, a burst of that iridescent red flame blazing, aching to devour all.
She could have retorted. She could have told Séna that she herself had endured the same exact torture at the hand of the White Mask. All in the name of freedom and peace. Seeing Sena's face however she was certain that there was no reason to.

“Your feelings sat in you. Remained stagnant for so long and rotted… I pity you, my friend…”

She spoke softly, earning a scoff from Séna.

“Don't act so high and mighty. Have you nothing else to say for yourself you coward? Why did you leave?” Séna growled.

Sorális had no choice but to be honest with her.

“I don't know..”

She responded.

And Séna just couldn't sit with that. Her blade was slashing at Sorális wildly in a flurry of strikes. The girl had to quickstep backwards In order to dodge. It almost felt like there would never be an opening. Almost.

Séna cried out as she dashed forward instead of slashing, pushing Sorális backwards with her brass shield.

The shield landed on her forehead, the metallic thud echoing through the empty expanse of the blood realm.

Sorális closed her eyes momentarily, and Séna slashed sideways, aiming for her throat. The blow met massive resistance, stopping immediately. Sorális had caught her sword with her bare fucking hands.

Séna’s eyes widened. She pulled her sword back, but it didn't budge. Sorális' hand bled, but she didn't let go. Her bloodflame intensified as it spewed out of her hand. The blade melted away and sank into the blood ocean. Séna grunted as she threw the hilt away and punched at Sorális, meeting a wall yet again as Sorális blocked, countered with a punch at the gut, and then slashed forward with her hand, as if her fingers were inch long talons. It seemed as if though reality itself was cut and bleeding. An explosion of red flame followed, sending Séna reeling back.

Before Sorális could even check to see where Séna was, she was already running at her through the smoke caused by the explosion.

No blade in hand, the bloody finger thrust her hand toward her. What was she thinking? Sorális nonchalantly blocked with her palm, pushing her hand away, but when she made contact it had changed. It was now an elongated and hardened weapon, sharp all over. How-....

 

Upon looking down, Sorális saw that the tip of the arm turned weapon had pierced through her chest. She couldn't even feel it. That's how clean the cut was. If she was right, the very edge of it had reached her heart.

“You left when I needed you… you'd even told me that you would be there for me no matter what… why lie if it wasn't TRUE?”

Séna complained, completely still as they were entwined in this dance of death. Instead of moving at all, or responding, Sorális materialized her piercer on the hand she blocked with, sending it right into Séna.

The finger grunted in surprise.

“No you don't” She cried out, using her the sharpened appendage to drain Sorális of her blood, directly from her heart.

The girl immediately felt the effects, nearly passing out, yet she set her piercer ablaze, her blaze absorbing Sena’s blood. At this rate… they'd kill each other.

“We'll go away together….” Séna murmured. “Saved from this nightmare… my old friend… do you think there's a place people like us go to?”

Sorális definitely didn't want to die. She didn't let up pouring her flame into Séna. It was quite difficult to be gentle as the silver haired girl had instructed. She was fading… she could tell, and she sensed the same in Séna. Would they truly die? She hoped not… her eyes darted up to the dim light shining down on them.

Then, the pressure of the blood realm broke for just a moment. A new presence managed to enter, one that had no real relation to the lord- how could-.

A long katana struck upward, and Sena’s appendage was cut in half, the bloody finger stumbling away from Sorális.

The girl could barely make anything out as Séna fought this intruder. She felt her legs giving out beneath herself. Before she knew it, she was laying on the surface of the ocean, staring into Sena’s eyes.

The fight didn't last long… not at all. She glanced down at her wound. She didn't have any magic left, and it was a miracle that she could even think with how much blood she was missing. This was it then. She looked back at Séna, who now had a tear running down her face. Life was leaving her, too. She raised her remaining hand toward Sorális. Bloodflame built up in it and fired toward her, her wound. The hand was cut off faster than Sorális could see. Séna was dead.

*

She didn't know how much time had passed when she woke up. Her eyes were held shut tight, protesting every step of the way as she tried to open them.

She saw a wooden ceiling held up by beams. Fort Haight then. She'd lived. Looking a bit to the side, she saw Yura. Too tired to move at all, she asked.

“Was it you?...”

The warrior nodded quietly, looking away.

“Good… Thank you…”

She muttered.

Her eyes were fighting her, but she willed herself awake, if only for a few more moments.

“I didn't think you'd… come…”

The question of why was more important than how, even though the how sounded impossible. He wasn't even a finger.

“Are you kidding? I couldn't complete my journey without you… don't be an idiot. Let's say we're even now. You saved me from the bear.”

Sorális looked troubled.

“Weren't you mad at me?.. for using bloodflame on you?...”

Yura contemplated the thought for a few moments, yet he still shook his head.

“A little bit… I was mad that she forced you to use it. I know it couldn't have been pleasant.”

The girl smiled. Sleep was taking her away again.

“That makes me happy… good… because I wouldn't have made it without you… had you not come… to save me..”

She was out like a light.

“Mm…”

Yura hummed.

“But that finger saved you…”

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you’re up for it, friend? You don’t look… your best?”

Blaidd asked the traveller. Not only could he see his battered state, he could also scent it with his keen sense of smell. The traveller had been through a lot. His armor was decrepit. A brown set of scraps with tinges of gold here and there. It looked as if it had been left out for hundreds of years, exposed to the elements, as rust had eaten clean through it.

“If it makes you feel any better for taking me with you, I’m not in the exact same state as my armor. Believe it or not, I woke up with it looking like this. If you’re confused, so am I.”

Had Blaidd given him too much to go off of? He guessed that he’d stared. In any case, the kid should be alright. The blood he’d smelt was dried up on closer inspection.

“Alright then, I’ll take your word for it. But don’t expect me to feel bad if you end up being injured, kid.”

The half-wolf stood up, shoving his greatsword into the earth, the magical crystals engraved into it shining under direct sunlight.

“Got it.”

His eyes lingered on Blaidd’s blade. The half-wolf almost inflated with pride. His sister had gifted the blade to him, made it using the finest ore, and the most potent frozen glintstone. Of course, the blacksmith of their noble house was the one who put it all together. Blaidd wondered how the old man was doing. He was probably smithing away at a blade, immersed in his craft.

“It's a mean blade, you know. Empowered by magic.”

The traveller stood up as well, walking closer to him. He reached out for the side of the blade, but Blaidd moved it before he made contact. With a stern look he hoped would discourage the kid, he said:

“Careful with it. Just touching it might harm you. The magic within is very potent.”

Indeed, the vegetation where the blade touched was all completely frozen solid. As he nudged the plants with his boot, they crumbled into a fine icy powder. That should be demonstration enough.

The traveller showed interest, his eyes widening. He quietly nodded and looked up the hill.

“That’s where you say our target is.”

Blaidd nodded in response. The kid looked eager to help. Huh. He hadn’t met such a soul in years.

“Anything else I should know?”

The traveller asked again. Blaidd thought to himself. Bloodhound knights were definitely not the sort of enemy you fight unprepared. How would such a young warrior fare against a knight trained to fight since birth? The half-wolf brought his palm up to his snout. He’d managed to make himself worry about someone he barely knew… again.

“Just-... Wait for an opportunity. Let me lead the charge, alright?”

The traveller stilled, looking at him intensely. Not with defiance fiery amber eyes speaking thousands of words. As if knowing that, he said nothing and nodded. Blaidd knew what that look meant; the kid wasn’t in agreement with him, but he’d comply anyway. Perhaps he wanted to avoid an argument. Blaidd remembered that look in a squadron of soldiers assigned to him by his sister, Ranni. They didn’t stay assigned to him for long.

Despite his pause for thought, the young warrior forged forward, walking up the hill. The half-wolf commended his resolve. He didn’t shy away from fights, Blaidd liked that in a companion. That was the only way to get stronger after all. A good fight. One couldn’t learn without earning a few bruises, or even better, scars.

He still remembered earning his first. It was during his training with his sister, Ranni. That was when her expected affinity for magic first showed itself.

Perhaps it would be wrong to call it training and not play. They were simply playing around with sticks. In the hands of an Empyrean like Ranni however… Even a stick could be a weapon. A burst of glintstone magic sprang forth right into his face, blasting him away. He still remembered the pain of that. It still stung sometimes, but he didn’t hold it against her. He didn’t feel malice even when it first happened. Her light blue eyes, deep as oceans and cold as ice, told him she didn’t mean it. Regardless, that was when the Queen separated them, forcing them to focus on their own thing.

Ever since then, his sister devoted herself to the study of magic, and he gave his all into becoming a Carian knight. Someone worthy of standing beside one like her.

*

They stood before what looked like a monument. Stone bricks were laid down in a circular shape, weird magic in the middle of it. A collection of worm-like creatures made of stone lay around it, keeping watch with the single eye each of them had. The traveller glanced sideways at Blaidd.

“Are you certain that this is it?”

The half-wolf nodded, keeping his gaze. He could not have been more certain of it.

“As I see you and you see me. That’s where the trail went cold. I can still smell two others faintly, but they seem to have left. Accomplices… Maybe.”

The traveller brought a hand to his chin, thinking.

“I’ve heard mention of something like this before… It must be… A gaol…”

Blaidd tilted his head, his tail swishing.

“As in-... A holding cell?”

The young warrior continued:

 

“Exactly like that. I heard some older knights talking about it. They're used by adherents of the golden order to trap powerful criminals.”

Blaidd stilled. Darriwil had been caught then.

“It doesn't seem safe… left out in the open…”

The traveller shrugged.

“I hear it's impossible to escape it… not with your life..”

Impossible? Sure it couldn't be… If anyone, Darriwil could have escaped. But… he'd already been here for at least a week, based on the scent trail.

“Can we get in?...”

He asked the kid. He sure seemed a lot more knowledgeable than he was.

“I'd reckon we can…”

He murmured as he neared the center of the circle.
Blaidd looked away for a moment, his eyes following a butterfly- nearly translucent.

“But we won't have much luck getting out unless-”

The traveller’s sentence was cut off quite suddenly. Blaidd turned toward him in an instant. Nothing. He didn't hear anything either, nothing else other than the sounds of nature; a woodpecker working away at a tree trunk in the distance, and the ever forceful gales of Limgrave whooshing by.

His ears flicked. Surely he must have missed something. No. Not even his nose could pick him up. The scent trail went cold at the exact spot he was just a moment ago.

“Kid?”

He only heard his own voice in response, though warped. As if the Gaol even ate up the soundwaves he emitted.

His hand went to his back where he’d sheathed his greatsword. The kid wouldn't be able to get out. That's the last thing he said. There was no escape except by someone's own death? The kid had also said that.

“Ugh…”

He grunted. He gritted his teeth as he growled:

“Why does it have to be so complicated?”

The half-wolf set his hand on his head as if he were in pain. He found himself walking to the center. To hell with it all. He'd figure things out later. That's what he always did.

The magic in the midst of the monument beckoned, a dark purple hue surrounding it. This magic seemed volatile, indeed, it felt wrong to him, but within the confines of this monument it was perfectly contained and controlled.

Not knowing what to do, Blaidd reached out with a hand toward the point where most of it converged. It felt as if he collapsed into himself.

His lungs were empty, and his ears were ringing. He couldn't scent anything here, nor could he see for there was nothing; no light, no dark, nothing.

If he could he would claw at himself, the wolf side of him would kill to get out of this, but thankfully, it was over as soon as it started.

Breathing heavily, he grasped at his chest as his back met a cold brick floor. His senses returned to him, and they all alerted him to one thing immediately. The scent of Darriwil, along with the heavy, metallic scent of blood.

The half-wolf darted up back to his feet, his blade held to the side, ready to strike if necessary. Relief came over him. The kid was okay, not bleeding. Darriwil was nowhere to be seen.

“Took you long enough.”

He said with a smile. Blaidd smiled back, happy to see him all well. He'd really hoped he hadn't found Darriwil yet. The knight had a fearsome set of abilities. He was not the type of enemy an inexperienced warrior could take on alone.

It was odd. He couldn't smell the bloodhound knight, no matter how much he tried. Of course, a faint scent covered the area, but this too was a week old.

Where could he have gone? The area was completely enclosed; a perfect copy of what lay outside of this realm, same brick floor, and even the exact same surroundings, yet they were eternally unreachable.

For someone with such instincts… as those of a wolf, or a hound, it would be impossible to remain here and stay sane. What with nature so close yet so far. Unreachable.

“Nothing… Perhaps there's a way to… get out of here- the trail is as cold in here as it was outside… so…?”

The kid was about to answer, but instead words he simply gaped at him. That surprise soon turned into worry. In what time he had left, Blaidd realized he'd forgotten about one crucial trump card Darriwil had at his disposal. His Bloodhound Step.

*

Based on the young warrior’s expression, Darriwil was already attacking. Blaidd swung his sword sideways, using the momentum to turn himself around, hopefully catching Darriwil by surprise.

As the knight came into view, Blaidd was made conscious of another mistake. One that would cost him his life. He didn't take into account Darriwil’s favorite attack to use after he revealed himself. The downward slice.

He was completely open, with a blade moving sideways. At best, they'd both kill each other.

The half-wolf hated the thought of resigning like this, but he had no other choice. He closed his eyes shut, for it was now up to fate.

In the moments after that, the fact that he was conscious either meant that he was now in the afterlife, or that fate had favored him.

Thankfully, it seemed like he landed a hit, but didn’t take one in return. Darriwil had halted his offensive, and he stood in front of him, unable to move. His curved sword was held by a dull gold object that looked much like a tail. Blaidd’s first instinct was to leap backwards to the traveller.

It turned out that the tail was connected to the base of his spine, Its scent indicating that it was some sort of magic. A sort he was again unfamiliar with. He couldn’t help but feel grateful, but he didn’t refrain from asking him about it. They were now beyond that. They would shed blood together, that was certain.

“I have no choice but to be curious. How come you can do that, kid?”

The traveller grunted as Darriwil forced his blade down, severing the magical tail that held it still. The young warrior stumbled forward as the tail faded away, first turning into small wisps of dull gold, and then disappearing completely.

“Well I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know myself.”

He breathed heavily as he balanced himself again.

“You alright?”

The half-wolf asked. The traveller nodded in response, bringing a hand to his nose, wiping blood away. Blaidd gave him a look.

“I’m alright, really. Just- don’t almost get yourself killed again. I assure you I can’t do anything like that again. Not on an empty stomach.”

He gave the wolf a smile. Blaidd couldn’t contain one himself as he raised his blade.

“Good. I wasn’t planning on doing that. Stay close to me. We’ll take him down together.”

Without sparing a moment for a response from the warrior, Blaidd forged onward, before Darriwil could disappear again. It wasn’t something he could risk. That Bloodhound’s step made him completely undetectable. In order to conceal his scent for so long, he must’ve been using it ever since he got here, knowing that Blaidd would catch up.

The half-wolf pitied him. This Gaol was a dead end. There wouldn’t be an escape for him, not unless he died. A look at the knight told Blaidd that he knew that, but his instincts wouldn’t allow him to yield.

Feral eyes darted in between Blaidd and the traveller as he weighed his actions. He twitched backward, falling on all fours, and disappeared into nothingness, as if he’d never been there in the first place. Blaidd missed his strike, his blade crashing down where the knight was, finding nothing but solid rock.

Not a moment later came a sideways strike from Blaidd’s blind spot, behind him.

The traveller grunted as he dashed forward, reaching for the knight’s blade with his hand, out of which sprouted a clawed appendage made of spectral dull gold. He grasped onto the blade just momentarily, pulling it back to reduce its momentum. Then, he immediately released his magic in order to avoid further exhaustion.

By the time Darriwil was attacking again, Blaidd was ready to meet him head on, nodding his appreciation to his ally as he brought his blade up to defend himself. Blades clashed, seemingly evenly matched. Every attack Blaidd brought forth was swiftly countered or avoided by Darriwil, who moved with a feline ferocity, attacking every chance he got.

This wouldn’t change unless the tides turned. It was a two on one, and the traveller didn’t hesitate. He unsheathed his greatsword, which grated within the scabbard, rust groaning. With a forceful swing, he brought it down on Darriwil’s side as soon as the knight blocked one of Blaidd’s thrusts.

The hit connected- but the damage didn’t. The young warrior’s blade shattered into pieces. Which only gained him a baleful gaze from Darriwil. The Bloodhound knight brought his left hand forth, which was equipped with lethally sharp claws. He sliced at the traveller almost as soon as he looked at him, digging through his rusted armor with ease.

Darriwil pulled his clawed arm back, turning to face Blaidd again, but it did not move. He glanced at the traveller again, who stared at him intensely, determination raging through his eyes like a living flame.

He was keeping him in place with an iron grip, magic seeping through his fingers and digging through armor. The knight bled as his armor cracked. He brought his blade up with a feral growl, intending to cut him clean in half.

“Blaidd! Now!”

The traveller cried out, but the half-wolf was way ahead of him. His blade crashed into Darriwil’s side with all Blaidd could muster. It dug all the way into his midst, more than enough to halt his attack, but not enough to kill him. A cornered animal would do anything to survive, so Blaidd didn’t waste time in activating his blade’s magic, sending a wave of sheer cold into the Knight’s very body, freezing blood, flesh, and bone.

Darriwil let out a cry of desperation as the icy glintstone magic worked through his organs, ceasing completely as it reached his throat and head. Not a moment later, his body, which could only be called an ice sculpture, burst into an uncountable amount of little ice shards.

The terrible sound of Darriwil shattering echoed through the Gaol. Blaidd felt pity for the knight. Once an ally to him. But he was nothing more than a traitor. And traitors of the great house of Caria should be eradicated. Such was the law.

Before Blaidd could complete another thought other than his feelings toward the late knight, the Gaol rumbled. It was just as the traveller said. The only way out, even for them, was Darriwil’s death.

He braced himself for that torturous experience, even if it would last just a moment. His ears pulled back and his eyes shut on their own, anticipating that gruelling pull to force them back into the real world, but it never came. As he opened his eyes, they were back into the vibrancy of reality.

The first thing the half-wolf did was help the traveller get up. The kid- no. He wasn’t a kid. The warrior didn’t get out of it unscathed, but he still managed. It seemed that he managed to block that hit in the end, again, using his magic. He could tell by the scent of it. An earthy scent that reminded him of autumn and forests.

“Well fought.” He stated. Every warrior had to be congratulated for their deeds.

“You weren’t so bad yourself.” The traveller replied, giving him a smile.

Blaidd returned it. He found that he quite enjoyed his company.
“So what’s your name? “Kid” ain’t cutting it anymore.”

The warrior grew more serious, though his gaze was still soft, sincere. He dropped the hilt of his blade that he was still holding on to, no more than some rust in the shape of one actually.

“Raphael.”

Blaidd took the warrior’s hand and shook it, making him stumble forward with the force he applied.

“It is truly nice to meet you Raphael. You’re a warrior, and now a blood-brother of mine. Should you need my help, you need only call my name. I’ll fight by your side. Of this I swear an oath.”

Raphael nodded respectfully.

“Expect the same of me, Blaidd"

Chapter Text

With Eitan’s motivation returned to him, he wondered where he would go next. His broader goal was to help Melina reach the foot of the Erdtree, so- moving on to Liurnia was the obvious answer, was it not?

Melina stood over him as he was sitting on a log. She held her hands behind her back.

“What are you thinking about?”

She asked, eliciting a head turn and a glance from him. His mind blanked for a moment, and he found himself looking for what to say. He didn’t doubt that it was because she’d told him off for wanting to move forward the other day. “You need to rest” she said.

“Uh-... Nothing much. Just thinking about moving on from here. I think we’ve had enough rest for now.”

The maiden sat down next to him. He could tell she was thinking on it through her fiery eyes, ever so fixed on him when he spoke.

“It could be time…” She murmured, looking away. She furrowed her brows as if she was troubled by something. Eitan waited. She’d tell him by herself, wouldn’t she? If there was something he needed to know about. Some sort of concern.

“I think there’s something we need to talk about-..”

She explained slowly. Eitan raised a brow slightly, yet got to his feet instantly as he heard something approaching through the thicket.

“Get away now, Melina.”

The maiden obeyed, returning to the spirit realm. She did have some qualms for abandoning him in such times but… There was only so much she could do with such limited power. Even with that much however, she could easily traverse the spirit realm and watch over Eitan, following close by him despite being worlds apart. She could hear his words and see his immediate surroundings. That was but one of the benefits of their accord.

Eitan had already drawn his sword, holding it at the ready. He wouldn't have any trouble with whatever this was. A demihuman? A bandit maybe? Even a wild bear. With Melina’s power to turn runes into strength he had become much stronger. He could take more hits and move faster. His body was capable of greater feats of strength. So no matter what, he would protect her.

The brushes shook as something moved through them. The warrior didn't waver, not for a moment. He would strike as soon as they parted, as soon as whatever beast this was came into view.

He saw the beast as it walked out of the thicket, and it was no beast at all.

“Raphael?”

Eitan said- surprised. The other warrior approached, wearing something way less… flashy? Than what he was wearing the last time Eitan saw him, back under the bridge, when he left that group to be alone..

“What.. happened to you?”

He didn't seem hurt, but his once Holden armor was no longer what it used to be. He wouldn't have recognized it had it not had those dull patches of gold in some places. But nevertheless, it was full of gashes and consumed by rust. He had no sword with him, just a backpack Eitan was hoping had supplies in it at least.

Raphael looked more than happy to explain. He gave him a smile Eitan wasn't so sure he remembered, but one that certainly fit right where it was.

“I'll catch you up. Care for a snack?”

The warrior asked as he showed him his palm, full of gathered berries.

*

More than an hour had passed. They were still talking.

Apparently Raphael had died and returned. That explained the state of his armor. Maybe? Maybe not. Well, Eitan didn't understand the ways in which the Erdtree worked. That had to be what brought him back to life after all.

It wasn't unusual, so it didn't bother him. The fact that he was killed however, by his own kin as well. People he had fought by. It didn't seem right with him. To the point where he couldn't even start to fathom how he could beat with it. Being betrayed like that.

Raphael seemed to be okay with it. Eitan supposed that death meant less these days anyway, and betrayal even less than that, as it had become so common.

“...have you heard anything from the others?”

Raphael asked suddenly. His eyes only revealed worry, and Eitan wished he could make that go away for him, but he had to be honest.

“I haven't heard anything, no. The last time I saw them was also the last time I saw you. You know more than I do.”

The warrior nodded.

“I’m sure they're all doing alright. They're strong people.”

Eitan added, trying to soothe.

Raphael shook his head, humming.

“I'm not exactly worried.. I just want to go see Sorális…”

Eitan raised a brow. “You've known her for a few days at best, right? What could you want with her other than to know if she's safe?”

Raphael shrugged, in that way that suggested he definitely knew the answer to that question.

“I don't know-.. it's just that.. she seemed so devastated to see me go. I can't help but feel like she truly cared about me.”

“Ahh…” He responded, rubbing his chin with a smile. “That's why you want to see her. I get it. Having a girl care like that for you can be nice. Well- I do hope you find her.”

The knight smiled as well, continuing.

“I'm certain you'd be well-informed when it comes to that. You do have that red-haired girl that keeps you company, right?”

Eitan’s eyes widened. How had he seen her? Perhaps he walked up on them after a few moments of investigation. Clever.

“It may also be that way. But don't pry too much- you might see something you're not ready to, kid”

The warrior shoved Raphael with his elbow playfully. That earned him a chuckle. This was nice. It truly was.

Limgrave, Stormveil Castle.

Someone barked out a command to raise the gate. Dozens of legs moved, obeying. Chains pulled and metal groaned as the gate was raised. A knight returned from a mission, yet no one stood up to speak to him, no one stood up to congratulate him, and no one stood up to see to him. Not if he didn't tell them to. Not when any of those actions could very well mean their death.

Lesta took off his greathelm, signalling to one of those wretched banished warriors to come pick it up. He couldn't know why his father bothered with them. A bunch of savages and deserters. That's what made up his father’s forces within the castle.

Well, as long as they didn't meddle with him or his and earned their keep, they could stay.

The warrior hurried to him. A middle aged man, battle scarred, and wearing the signature red cloak of exile over his head. What he did to be exiled Lesta didn't know, but he wouldn't ask. These people weren't worthy of his time.

“See to my horse.”

He said plainly. His voice deep and rough like sandpaper. Again, the soldier obeyed, taking the reins to guide the beast of a horse. Twice the size of a warhorse, ‘Storm’, was a jet black beast, stuck with a furious gaze. It could easily haul the giant of a knight around all while wearing heavy armor made out of thick iron plates. It was a miracle that horse didn't eat human flesh.

It was much like its rider in that regard. He was a beast in his own right, both in disposition and in build. Lesta towered over normal humans, despite not relying on grafting to the same degree as his father. To him, grafts were ceremonial. A reward he only granted to his most loyal followers, of which now none remained, the last one probably receiving this reward during his last mission.

Having dismounted, he moved his shoulders, sore from riding for so long. He had to report to his lord father. Castle Morne had been a success, and a great one at that. Half of Kenneth Haight’s rotten rebel army had been done away with. None of that was because of the soldiers Lesta’s father had bequeathed him of course. Fodder each and every one of them.

The knight marched forward into Stormveil, soldiers breaking apart to make way. The path to the inner reaches of the castle was crowded, but still completely silent. The only sound was the wind falling on the castle walls. A wind that had never stopped for thousands of years.

Lesta looked up at the sky as he walked, taking in its grey, clouded expanse. It always seemed to be like that over this castle. Perhaps it was an omen to be concerned about.
Perhaps it simply mirrored how the might of the Stormveil lords had been reduced to this- or they spoke of Lesta’s life. His future. One of complete uncertainty.
No. He rejected such thoughts. He knew himself to be more than that.

*

His father was in the dynasty graveyard again. Looking over graves of people barely related to him. Forefathers, he would say. The ones that connected him directly to the golden lineage. The knight found it difficult not to scoff at him whenever he spoke about such things. If one was great, it was of their own right, their own blood sweat and tears. Alas, he didn’t bother with the ramblings of a senile man. He would get himself killed sooner or later. And then Lesta would rule. Make Stormveil great. It would not be bedecked in gold, but in Iron, for this would be his age of war and bloodshed, and of might persevering through it all.

“Ah… So you’ve returned… Good. Twas’ about time you did, wasn’t it. I’d only sent you to deal with that fallen noble, Haight. Is the deed done?”

The lord of Stormveil, and descendant of the golden lineage, Godrick the Golden, spoke.

Lesta took a knee several feet away from him.

“Kenneth Haight is not yet dead my lord, but-”

Godrick slammed a mass of hands on the soil, shaking the very earth.

“That was your mission!” He yelled, lowering his head closer to Lesta. The knight flinched at the loudness of his regal voice, bowing deeper.

The demigod breathed heavily as he heaved the mass up again. “I hear you’ve managed to take back castle Morne at least. Well- You’re still of use to me despite being an illegitimate discarded seed.”

Lesta gritted his teeth. He should cut him down here and now-. Kill the bastard while his back was turned. That was the thinking of a coward. What sort of victory would it be if he did that? This man was already weak and failing.

Godrick turned his back to the knight, pacing in the graveyard. His footsteps heavy, and his breathing labored, the demigod could barely manage a walk with a limp. His voice rasped as he spoke again. “Where is that… hm… Friend of yours. That girl?Has she finally become strong enough to graft onto yourself?...” He gave the knight a devilish grin, stirring his rage once more.
“And you went through with it, didn’t you? When we’re running thin on soldiers? What a fool. Your mother must’ve taken a Kaiden… That would explain your love for war wouldn’t it? Savages, the lot of them.”

How dare he speak of his mother? Even now he used her hand, he was sure of it. Not for power, but to make an example of her. To keep Lesta under control. He didn’t react. His head was still lowered.

“She asked for it, my lord. She was injured in battle, not likely to survive.”
Godrick smiled once again, approaching him. He extended a hand to him, withered as most grafted limbs became. On one of its fingers was a ring of marital oath. His mother’s ring. The knight looked away and shut his eyes. He was certain the fiend of a man was enjoying this.

“Show me…”

The lord spoke.

“Show me how you’ve… ‘defiled’ yourself”

He added with a chuckle. Still using words the knight had said years ago.

Lesta had no choice but to obey, unclipping the large wolfskin cape from around his neck, showing his iron plate armor, but also revealing another set of arms beneath his own. The amount of shame he felt was immense. It was her wish to add her mastery to his own. She even asked him to use her blades.

“My, my… What a horrid practice… You’ve outdone yourself this time, bastard. Took both her arms and left her to die?...”

The lord paced as he spoke. Lesta did not look at him. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing his pain.

“It was a necessary act, my lord. She willed it so.”

Godrick hummed in response.

“I see. Well… I believe it is about time you were acknowledged.”

The knight looked up at his father, confusion written on his scarred face.

“It occurred to me, that you’re ready to take upon your duties as my son and heir. Lesta the Golden.”

That was the first time he had ever said his name. He’d never once addressed him like that his entire life- but, ‘Golden’? He wanted no part of that, but what would rejecting it bring upon himself. He lowered his head again.

“I thank you, my lord.”

Godrick approached him once more, dragging his golden axe on the floor. Its shrieking a warning. He raised it high, and moved it down toward Lesta’s neck, repeating it on the other side. With its weight, this could’ve definitely killed him had he not stopped.

“Now. For your first assignment my son, I want you to hunt down tarnished.Those wretched fools are after my great rune.”

Lesta looked up at him, seeing that wicked smile once more. His father had plans within plans, no doubt to torment him while using him.

“You are to depart immediately. Execute them in any way you see fit, but first have them kneel in the name of Godrick the Golden.”

The knight stayed on his knee.

“Yes father.”

When was the last time he’d said that to him?..

*

Path To Weeping Peninsula
Eitan, Raphael, Melina

Eitan hadn’t managed to finish that conversation with Melina, but they were finally on the go. Raphael had managed to get himself involved in a situation, so now they were escorting a blind girl back to her father in castle Morne. Granted, it was the wrong direction, but he was finally doing something at least.

“So your name is Irina, right?”

Eitan asked the girl as they walked down the path. Melina was guiding her by the hand, and Raphael was standing guard on her other side.

“Yes- yes it is.”

The girl responded shyly. She wore a band over her eyes. Golden locs stretched down to her shoulders, and she wore a faded red dress. Simple, but elegant. Former nobility perhaps?

“Mm.. Well met then. You can call me Eitan.”

The warrior motioned to Raphael to come closer as he spoke. The knight looked around, checking for any enemies, then rushed to him.

“Do you need something?”

He asked with a troubled expression.

“Of course I do- You haven’t even told me who we’re going to meet- I don’t know how far away this “castle Morne” is!”

Raphael looked on blankly.

“Oh. Well, Irina does- She can guide us.”

Eitan had to physically restrain himself not to facepalm. He then spoke in a hushed tone, walking forward and signalling to Melina to walk slowly with a hand movement. The maiden rolled her eyes.

“Do I have to explain to you why that’s a bad idea? By grace Raphael- You don’t even have a proper set of armor- this is practically dust. What if we’re ambushed?”

Raphael looked down at his set.

“Sure it's a little rusted-”

Eitan punched a hole through his chestplate, making a good amount of rust- or rather a fine powder of it, pour down.

The knight didn’t finish his sentence.

“Alright- we just need to have a plan for this, that’s my concern. We can’t just jump into it.”

Raphael nodded before answering.

“You’re not wrong. Okay. We can find some new armor for me soon-.... We’ll need clothes too, apparently.”

Not only had his armor become this sorry clump of rust, but his clothes had also disintegrated somehow.

“In any case- She said her father is a general of Lord Godrick’s army.”

Eitan raised a brow.

“Lord Godrick as in- Godrick the Grafted?”

The knight nodded.

“That should be him- yes.”

Eitan looked at him with a disappointed gaze, but Raphael continued before he could respond.

“She’s just a girl- what was I supposed to do- leave her? Besides, we can just leave her near the castle and have the general’s guard take her to him. Should be easy, right?”

The warrior huffed in response.

“Ugh… Right.”

*

It wouldn’t be easy. They reached the first hurdle ten minutes after their conversation. A blockade on the only bridge connecting central Limgrave to the Weeping Peninsula. Godrick’s soldiers weren’t exactly known for being honorable or kind, so Eitan wouldn’t take any chances with them.

“Are you guys sure this is going to be a good idea?”

Raphael asked as he sat on Torrent’s back. The spectral steed whinied and stomped a front hoof on the ground.

“Better than yours at least. Now take responsibility for getting us into this. You go first.”

Eitan commanded. This made Raphael comply, albeit sheepishly.

“Alright alright.”

The knight looked down. The fall was definitely fatal. Not because of the extreme height, but because of the raging sea below.

“Torrent will have no issue jumping this far. You need not worry.”

Melina assured him, yet somehow that brought him no comfort.

“I’ll go with him.”

Irina suggested.

“If it is indeed safe, there’s no problem. It will also be faster. Less trips for Torrent.”

Eitan definitely didn’t expect this courage from the girl, but it made him smile.

“See, Raphael? Irina made up her mind faster than you did.”

The knight chuckled, though he truly was thankful she did.

The young girl didn’t struggle with getting on the horse. In fact, she got on a moment after setting a hand across Torrent’s back.

“Woah- Where did you learn that?”

The knight asked Irina. The girl didn’t hesitate to answer.

“My father taught me. Before the wars in Limgrave started. If only I had my horse with me I could get to castle Morne myself.”

She set her hands around Raphael, careful as to not restrict his movement.

“Easy now, Torrent.”
Raphael said. Though mostly to calm himself down, since Torrent was perfectly calm.

“He’ll only move when you’ve made up your mind..”

Melina added.

“Well how can I make my mind up about this? No horse can jump this high or far-”

He tightened his grip on the reins as he complained. Torrent was already in the air before he could think.

“Or when you’re holding on well enough-..”

Raphael’s eyes widened. His mouth agape. They wouldn’t make it. They weren’t even halfway across but they were already losing altitude. Despite that, Torrent wasn’t the least bit nervous. As if the very air itself was soil, the horse leaped off of it, reaching the other side with ease.

Eitan was watching, arms crossed.

“I do have to admit I was losing faith. I didn’t know Torrent could do that.”

Melina glanced at him, furrowing her brows.

“Take him for a ride once in a while then. He’s been yours since you accepted my accord.”

The warrior nodded at her. He’d forgotten about that.

“Also-... I didn’t tell you that before since we weren’t alone, but I heard what you said to Raphael earlier.”

Eitan smiled- not out of happiness.

“Whatever are you talking about-”

The maiden bumped his shoulder with a fist.

“I didn’t know we were ‘like that’, Eitan”

She said as she moved closer to the edge. Torrent had jumped back, and so she mounted him. She smiled as she glanced back at him, prompting him to move. At least his… joke hadn’t bothered her. It was a little banter between friends. Surely she understood.

He’d basically implied that they were… a thing. Not only that but-

He willed these thoughts out of his head. He was simply joking. Melina probably wouldn't care either way. She certainly didn't seem to so far.

*

Eitan hoped the blockade was one of the few guarded parts of this road. He wasn't happy to be doing this generally, so having more soldiers in his way definitely wouldn't make his day better.

Signs of war littered the road. No one was happy to be seeing this. What hit them first was the stench, but that wasn't the only thing that made this difficult to take in.

Rabid dogs chowed down on the bodies of fallen soldiers, and carrion crows picked at what they could. Eitan’s stomach churned, despite the amount of times he’d seen this before.

“Hey, Irina.. what's your horse like?”

Raphael asked suddenly, no doubt to take everyone's minds off the situation at hand. The girl was eager to answer, a smile forming on her kind face.

“She's a playful mare I called Ash. Her coat is light brown with a few patches of white…”

Raphael and Melina both found themselves smiling as the girl spoke of her mare.

“we got separated near where you found me.. she gets frightened when thunder strikes so… she must've made her way back home.”

Irina continued.

“Why exactly did you leave home?”

Melina asked the girl as she still held her hand, walking with her in tandem.

“Father ordered me to. He said I should find somewhere quiet and wait for him to come find me… I got caught in a thunderstorm not far away from where Raphael found me..”

No one spoke for a while. Raphael broke the silence as he once again tried to lighten the mood.

“At least we found you! You're going home again.”

The girl nodded gleefully.

Eitan refrained from telling her that he could see a brown mare with patches of white being eaten by dogs on the side of the road. He hoped it wasn't her ‘Ash’.

*

They stayed on the paved brick path, in hopes that even if someone found them, they wouldn’t be hostile. Despite the movement of Godrick’s troops, the road was safer. Bandits avoided it, and dogs had other things to eat besides them. Eitan thought that at least, the massacred warriors still served a purpose, as sad as it may be.

Irina had suggested that the soldiers serving under her father would recognize her, but when asked about other soldiers in Godrick’s employ she wasn’t so sure. Apparently her father’s noble house had joined Godrick to avoid being killed off. Now, castle Morne was simply one of Godrick’s posts, used to oppress the people, and to turn those opposed to him into grafts, or new experiments.

Irina rode on Torrent. The horse trotted by them happily, as if content with his task.

Eitan would’ve liked it more if this part of the road had better visibility. With hills on either side of them, they could easily be ambushed. This was a lesson he was taught in the badlands. Had his father not been with him and his at that time, they would’ve definitely been massacred by rogue tarnished.

“There’s some sort of military building up ahead. Castle Morne?”

Raphael asked. Indeed, what seemed like the wall of a fort or castle had come into view as the path curved.

“It seems like part of it broke off. Was it recently under siege?”

Melina inquired as she walked by Torrent, leading him by the reins.

“Hmm…”

Irina hummed as she thought. She clasped her hands together, rubbing her pointer fingers against each other.

“We shouldn’t be that close to Castle Morne yet. This should be the old wall, before Lord Godrick launched his attack on us. Ever since then, the wall has stayed torn, because in Lord Godrick’s words: ‘we don’t need that wall to protect ourselves’.”

“Sounds like a measure put in place to ensure your subservience…”

Eitan murmured.

“That’s what father says as well.”

The girl agreed.

The warrior would have talked to her more about it. Perhaps asked a few questions, but then he caught the scent of danger: Fire.

Fire meant people, and people could be dangerous. The rest of the group had already understood, Melina being the first to move for cover. It would be best if they managed to see where this fire was, and whether or not it had been started by bandits or soldiers- not that anyone else could be trusted.

Thankfully the road was sided by trees up the hills on both sides, providing some cover. Torrent followed the group, walking slowly. Making sure to avoid any branches that might hurt Irina.

He spotted it as the forest ended. It was a merchant, sitting by the fire with his donkey. He was about to start playing on an intricate instrument. Before he could however, he was stopped by the pounding of hooves on the path. Horses. Many of them. Eitan thanked the gods for this coincidence. They were already well hidden.

The riders soon came into view, horses trotting toward the merchant. They were all knights in service to Godrick. Some wore his coat of arms, and others their very own, that of the banished knights, but the thing that unified them wasn’t their coat of arms. It was their cruelty.

They soon circled the merchant, who simply sat down by his campfire, seemingly unfazed by them. Eitan assumed that since he was out here in the open, he had no fear of them, or of anyone else for that matter.

The knights barked some questions out to him. He replied, but as with the questions, Eitan couldn’t hear what was being said. One of them shouted something to others, hidden from view down the hill. More of them approached the merchant. None truly caught Eitan’s attention, not until the last one rode toward the rest on his stallion.

The warrior could feel the earth move as the giant warhorse planted its hooves in the soil. It was at least three times the size of Torrent, who now shied away. Melina ran a hand over his head, attempting to calm him down.

That beast of a horse was armored as well, completely bedecked in plates of iron, covering nearly all of it, leaving only its legs uncovered. Its breathing could be heard as well. It sounded as if just by doing that natural process this beast bent nature to its will.

Its rider was just as monstrous. A hulking knight wearing a stylized greathelm, depicting two hands clasped together on its front. Most of his upper body was covered by a long wolfskin cape, and on both sides of his waist lay the scabbards for two greatswords. Eitan knew this was not a fight they wanted to take.

It had been years since he last felt this, but just the sight of this knight filled his body with the bitter feeling of fear. As if the knight sensed it, he glanced in their general direction. Eitan flinched, lowering his head.

Eitan thanked the gods once more. The hulking knight looked back at the merchant as he dismounted from his horse. He approached him slowly, every step he took making the merchant seem even more nervous.

The knight spoke a few words, his voice deep and coarse like gravel. The merchant shook his head in response.

For a moment it looked like the knight was done, like he would leave, but instead he squatted down in front of the merchant, putting his fire out by slamming a mailed fist against the burning wood. He spoke again, this time leaning close to him, and making their size difference very apparent to Eitan. Just like his stallion compared to other horses, this man was two to three times the size of a normal human.

Eitan didn’t understand what exactly it was the merchant did wrong, but the knight grasped his throat and picked him up effortlessly. His cape moved back over his shoulders, and then he saw it. The knight was threatening the merchant with a dagger. A dagger he was holding onto with another arm. Not one of his own two arms, no. A third arm, much smaller than the ones he seemed to naturally have. When the poor man didn’t respond to his satisfaction again, the knight threw him against the wall, as if he was throwing a pebble. The warrior shut his eyes as he heard the loud thud. There was no way the man had survived.

Soon after, the knights were moving again, going into the forest on the other side of the path. Eitan finally felt like he could breathe again.

With a deep breath and a shaky voice, Eitan managed to speak again:

“We can’t move right now. Let’s wait for nightfall.”

The rest of the group didn’t protest. They simply nodded in unison. Not one of them made a move. The situation was clear.

Chapter Text

“It would be a shame for his wares to go unused…”

Raphael stated as they finally walked out of the cover of the forest, late at night. Eitan knew that he was simply trying to justify what they were about to do. Granted, it was out
of necessity but it was still theft.

No movement felt right- no speed felt cautious. Every action Eitan took or thought about taking was something that endangered him, his allies- his friends.

With a hard tap of his knuckle against his forehead he pushed through. Pushed through this hesitation- this fear, this cowardice. Him and Raphael had made their way to the fallen merchant, with the intention of taking what they could use from his stock.

He had everything they could possibly want. Food, weapons, armor, tools… Were he alive, Eitan would pay him handsomely. The dead man’s mule stood there quietly, looking over them. The warrior wondered if it cared that its master was dead. It definitely didn’t seem to.

“It’s about time I get into something new, isn’t it?”

Raphael said solemnly as he picked a chainmail out of the merchant’s stock. Eitan looked it over. It was a well kept chain vest. It would be quite unreasonable to expect a merchant to carry heavy armor with him.

Along with a leather jerkin and leggings, Raphael put it on, abandoning his old suit of armor. Thank the gods he did. If he kept it on for any longer he would probably turn to rust himself, Eitan thought to himself.

“This isn’t my go-to, but it’ll have to do for now..”

The knight continued as he picked up a steel straightsword along with its scabbard. He hastily fastened it around his waist.

“Much better.”

He murmured, now fully equipped. Eitan managed a smile.

“Done shopping?”

His friend nodded. They were ready to go. Eitan whistled sharply. He’d told Melina to move on that signal.

*

Castle Morne, Nighttime

Howls filled every corner of this once noble castle. A raging bonfire had been lit in the main courtyard. Edgar Morne was forced to watch as his estate was defiled, his people killed, and his soldiers massacred. All due to that wretched Godrick the Grafted. That fool had forced him into an alliance. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he also sent him a hundred misbegotten to work for him. Edgar couldn’t refuse. Yes, they were barbaric and dim-witted, but they were still people. Somehow he doubted- no, forgot that as a winged misbegotten flew toward one of his remaining soldiers. He didn’t even have to think as he thrust his halberd forward, forcing its point into its chest. The misbegotten shrieked as it was hurt.

Pulling back, Edgar let it fall down into the courtyard. As expected, it died within seconds, but this attracted more of them. Those that could fly immediately made for the upper walls, while the rest searched for another way. No. They couldn’t be people. Not when Edgar had given them such courtesy and treated them so kindly. How dare they do this to him? How dare they force him to be separated from his daughter, and threaten his comrades' lives. He couldn’t forgive such a transgression. As they approached, he slammed the stick of his halberd down, a wave of air surging from it.

One neared, its horrible gaping maw of a mouth, one that stretched far too wide to be human. Edgar’s halberd slashed through it, the wind guiding it. Another, and it met the same fate, its two halves falling in the courtyard. This time there were more, so he gathered what strength he could within his weapon. The halberd commanded the very wind as it moved, taking all three winged beasts with it as Edgar moved it in circles over his head as if he were waving a banner. Then, he suddenly slammed his halberd down, shoving them into the brick floor with immense force. None moved. A pool of blood spread out beneath them.

“Lord Morne!”

One of his most trusted knights yelled out. He would’ve corrected him but.. None of Godrick’s troops survived the onslaught. It didn’t matter.

“Speak, Edwin.”

Morne commanded. The soldier looked toward the main gate of the castle in shock.

“Irina- she’s back- And-”

Lord Morne dashed to the edge of the wall before the soldier could explain the situation. He spoke truth. His daughter was there, truly. It appeared as if a young girl and two warriors had brought her back. Further behind them though-... An armada of riders in their fastest gallop.
Edgar didn’t care who they were or why they were approaching. As soon as his daughter got inside he would shut those fucking gates.

“SHUT THE GATES!” He yelled out. Not in his usual, calm tone, but in that of a father longing to see his daughter returned to him safely. His voice shook as he continued.

“We will push those mongrels back! We’ll save who we can, and live to tell the tale!”

His soldiers raged with him as he cried out his command- no, his plea.

“Tonight you do not fight alongside Lord Morne, but Edgar. If we survive this, ale’s on me tomorrow night!”

The soldiers yelled out in unison once more.

*

Path to Castle Morne

Finally, it was in sight, just a straight walk from here on out. The terrain moved downward toward a shoreline. Castle Morne lay there, immovable right by the sea. A small town was built around it, the houses were very simple, but numerous. Eitan wondered how these people lived under Godrick. It couldn’t be a good life. Not according to what he’d heard about the demigod.

“We’re close, aren’t we? This wind… It feels just like the one back home.”

Irina spoke. Eitan admired how she could differentiate between the gales further up. It made more sense the more he thought about it. The wind that hit Castle More was unaltered, powerful, with a deep smell of sea and salt.

“We are…” Melina replied solemnly. Eitan knew what that tone meant, and he felt it too. They were not out of the deep shit they’d gotten themselves into. He wouldn’t blame Raphael for it. If anything, he got them away from those riders. Had they not moved, they’d be found a day ago.

None of them spoke after that. They all knew it in their bones that something was coming. The wind grew stronger, and the cries of the people at the Castle reached the group. Desperation, fury, rage. It finally dawned on Eitan that they were not really getting to safety. He picked up the pace in that moment, not even knowing what it was he was going to do. Would he leave that girl to navigate a falling castle?

The warrior growled beneath his breath as he walked faster, forcing the group to follow. The castle was close, so fucking close, but what sort of goal was it? Would the girl’s father provide them with anything close to safety? Both him and the knights served Godrick after all. Thoughts swirled around in his mind as he kept that quickened pace.

Irina yelped as she stumbled. She probably wasn’t used to walking that quickly. Eitan marched on despite hearing her. His mind was completely set. They had to get to the castle- they had to.

“Eitan!” Melina called out to him. He paused for a moment, then snapped back to her as she was helping the young girl up. “There’s riders in the distance!”

The worst had truly happened. Eitan didn’t care about the rest of the riders no matter how much of a threat they were. What concerned him was the true fear he felt with his very soul as he saw the knight leading them. That true beast. He knew it was him. That horrific greathelm was not something he’d forget anytime soon.

“Run- RUN!” He commanded. They didn’t need to be told to. Melina helped Irina up Torrent and sent her forward. The little stallion understood the situation as soon as he was summoned. He broke into his fastest gallop as the rest of them sprinted to the gates.

The hooves of more than twenty horses stomped against the ground as they rode at breakneck speed. The very earth shook as they approached. Their leader howled like an animal as he got closer to them, drawing one of his greatswords and holding it to the side, ready to cut whoever he reached first in half.

Irina and Torrent reached the gates first. The riders were getting closer. While a few seconds ago they were on the top of the hill, they were now a few seconds away from the group.

“Melina- go- I can’t protect you here.”

Eitan cried out. The maiden didn’t respond to him, only ran by his side.

“What are you doing?”

He yelled out at her again. She kept on running, but this time she spoke.

“I won’t leave you to deal with this alone. We’re in this together.”

Before Eitan could speak again, Raphael butted in.

“That’s sweet and all- but we’re about to kick the bucket. All three of us.”

That was true. They weren’t going to make it to the gate in time but- they could still try. The warrior didn’t falter, his step remained true, but a few moments later when he checked on Raphael, he wasn’t there.

Eitan couldn’t help but stop, Melina as well. He didn’t want to leave Raphael behind. He was making a courageous choice, one that would most likely save the rest of them if they just ran. But Eitan didn't want to. Despite the fear, despite his will to live. He couldn't just give up on him.

“Go.” He ordered Melina as he looked toward the onslaught of riders. “Please, save yourself. You helped me escape my mind, but don't let me die thinking you did too”

He didn't look back to see if she truly left. He would fight to the death either way. One of the knights was upon him. He'd moved past Raphael on his horse. Before he met Melina he wouldn't have been able to dodge or attack someone moving so fast, but now? It was a whole different thing.

The warrior dashed to the side, dodging a halberd strike. He’d angled himself to attack as he dodged, and slashed through the knight's silver armor, slitting the artery in his leg open. He’d die in less than a minute.

Eitan twirled with extreme agility, ready to strike another rider, but none of them were still charging. The horses had gone into a halt as the atmosphere grew dense- someone was casting magic. The warrior stilled as he saw a dull gold hue emanating from the lower parts of Raphael’s spine. The knight tightened his fist as he focused, and the hue materialized into the golden tail of a dragon.

The riders didn’t stop willingly- the horses were terrified.

Within a moment, Raphael’s golden tail slammed against the mass of horses and men, flinging them into each other. Eitan hadn’t noticed it until now, but one horse hadn’t stopped its charge.

Thunder struck, illuminating the dark night as their leader’s warhorse charged right into Raphael, ramming its iron armored head in his chest.

Eitan ran toward them. That fear no longer had a grip on him. His allies were in danger. Nothing like that mattered anymore.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16: Turnaround

Fort Haight

Soralis felt as if she’d been run over by a stampede of beasts. Her whole body ached due to overexertion. Using bloodflame too much could do that to inexperienced users. She reckoned she was inexperienced, at least after forgetting everything.

She noticed a difference before even opening her eyes. It didn’t quite feel as if she was laying down on the soil, or the ancient brick floor of a ruined temple. She was in an actual bed.

With some protest from her eyes, she glanced around. She was laying under wool covers to keep her warm, and her head lay on a pillow. A fireplace provided dim lighting as the fire within crackled and popped, heating the room up. Raindrops tapped against the singular window of the room, making an irregular rhythm. She could easily be lulled to sleep again.

“Well, hello.”

The low voice of Yura sounded from beside her.

With a serene calmness, and perhaps a bit of drowsiness, Soralis turned her head around to look at him as she stretched, her hands bumping against the headboard. The hunter was sitting on a chair, right next to her bed. He didn’t have his Nagakiba with him. Odd, she’d never once seen him without it.

“Where are we?”

She asked him quietly. The hunter ran a hand through his long black hair, which he didn’t have tied up. He’d simply let it fall on his shoulders, a beautiful sheet of black waves. It also looked remarkably well kept. Had he bathed?

“Fort Haight. Kenneth Haight begged me to let you rest here… Kale and I decided to stay. The man looked like he’d changed his mind about you.. You did save him from certain death after all.”

The girl stared at him for a moment, then chuckled.

“Come on now, I would have died if not for you. How could I have saved him? I wouldn’t have made it.. This was all you, Yura…”

Eyes of deep crimson lay on the hunter. Soralis was so, so happy that she’d finally gotten an explanation about him being distant. She hadn’t done anything wrong. He was only mad for her sake. They weren’t just strangers to each other. They were comrades- friends.

“Alright I’ll claim victory this time.”

Yura said with a smile, leaning back in his chair. Then, he grew silent.
“What happened in there?”

He asked, his tone grim. Truly… What had happened in the blood realm. It was distant, but she could still recall it. She truly wanted to remember every part of it. Not just the fight. Her old friends.. Her home.. Her family… Her very self.

These past few months felt like she was trying to hold onto an ebbing and flowing ocean with just her two hands. Remnants of the past came and went non-stop, and the only thing that kept them close was that gods-damned accursed blood. She had to get to the bottom of this. She had to meet with this Lord. She had to find Lord Mohg. She had to find her home…

“Soralis?... Are you alright?”

Yura asked as he reached an arm out toward her, grasping her hand. The girl felt warm tears streaming down her cheeks. She hadn’t even realized that she was crying. She only looked at Yura in confusion.

“I… I don’t know…”

Her voice shook. She was frustrated. Frustrated with how weak she was. She couldn’t even remember what her parents’ names were. Her friends were lost in her mind and her old duties no longer meant anything to her.

“I’m not alright… That’s all I know…”

She muttered as she looked away. She didn’t want him to see her as she cried.

The hunter stilled, caressing her wrist before taking his hand away.

“I saw myself in the blood realm… Before Sena attacked.”

The girl continued. Her voice growing steadier.

“Or-... Who I used to be, I guess.” A deep breath allowed her to keep on going. “She told me that some of the bloody fingers were her friends.. That its not their fault they turned out that way… I want to care-... To cry, to scream for them…” She paused for a moment, as a sob escaped her. “But all I can think of is whether or not it was my fault… Because I left them. I left them, Yura..”

The hunter fidgeted with his fingers. He kept his eyes downward solemnly.

“I can’t know what really happened back then, Soralis.. But this is not something a single person can shoulder. You’ve all been used for someone else's ambitions. It’s not your fault or their fault… none of you had a choice, did you?”

She didn’t answer, or turn to face him. Her tears had dried up on her cheeks as she looked at the stone-built wall.

“...In any case… No matter what happened back then, or what’ll happen in the future, we’re in this together, remember? You told me to let you help me, didn’t you? Do you remember what I told you after that?”

Her eyes darted to him again as she side-eyed him, eventually turning back toward him. Her voice softened as she spoke once more.

“You told me I should also reach out should I need to..”

The hunter nodded as Soralis gave him a slight smile.

“So walk by me. We still have a long way ahead, but at least we have each other.”

The girl blinked slowly as he spoke.

“Thank you..”

She murmured as her smile faded into a more serious expression. She remembered something else of critical importance. Something Yura should definitely know.

“Sena… she mentioned Eleonora… That I abandoned her as well..”

She expected something negative after saying that. She didn’t know what exactly, but she felt like Yura had every right to be mad at her for this.

“Eleonora was someone I knew… Before I left..”

The hunter was looking through the girl, his eyes completely lost.

He’d say something now. Something hurtful, and he would have every right to.

“..I expected as much..” He said with a huff. “That you two would have met. I’m certain you must’ve gotten along well. You’re so alike after all..”

The girl couldn’t remember feeling this thankful ever before. Her smile reached her eyes. She was unable to contain it.

“Our common goal has become-... Even more of a common goal it seems..” The girl said.

Yura nodded slowly. It was apparent that he was thinking about it despite his mask of calmness. Every bloody finger, Eleonora included.. Were they beyond saving? Perhaps if they understood what it was that kept Soralis sane, they could work toward saving them as well.

Someone knocked on the door. Three times. “Ser Yura, Lady Soralis. Lord Haight awaits you in his study, if you please.”

They looked at each other. Haight had been waiting for her to wake up, quite eagerly.
The hunter tilted his head in question. Soralis shrugged as if to say she didn’t mind.

“We’ll be there shortly.”

Yura exclaimed. No response from the person Soralis assumed was a servant. His steps grew more and more distant. He left.

“Well- I had nothing better to do.” The girl said as she got up out of the bed, motioning to Yura to turn around so she could get into a black leather jerkin and leggings that were left on her nightstand. The hunter complied.

She hadn’t noticed it before but she was wearing a silken nightgown- even underwear made of lace.

“Uhm-... How did these get on me?”

She inquired. Yura didn’t have to look at her to get what she meant. “Female servants. Haight has been treating us quite well.”

The girl hummed. It was slightly better than if Yura had done it- but still, she would’ve preferred if they’d left her in her original clothes.

“Where’s what I was wearing before?”

Since Soralis wasn’t doing much of changing, Yura turned around this time. “Well-... As with mine.. Haight suggested we use it to make new clothing.”

The hunter was wearing something different. Nothing like his usual attire. It was a simple dark robe, accented with golden threads sewn into it, making various shapes including a tapestry of the Erdtree over his chest.

What he usually wore was traditional clothing from the Land of Reeds. She remembered it. Another bloody finger she once knew wore such clothing, with light armor over it.

“Huh-... Charitable… Well- no. I don’t expect him to be doing this without reason.”

Yura chuckled, looking away once more as the girl undid the buttons at the back of her nightgown.

“You’ve got the message it seems… Not a lot of people will do things simply out of charity. I could say we helped save his fort, but I’m assuming he wants something else. This treatment is simply.. lavish.”

Soralis turned toward Yura as she ran her hands down her jerkin, making sure she was comfortable in it. He already had his eyes on her, and if she didn’t know about his extraordinary senses she would have guessed he was eyeing her. Even if he was though, would she have minded? She juggled with the thought for a moment.

“What?”

Yura blurted, a brow raised. She smiled and shook her head at him. His confusion only solidified the fact that he’d just turned.

“Nothing”

Well and truly, they were friends on both sides.

*

The sun still wasn’t up. Kenneth Haight’s study was well lit and comfortably warm, courtesy of the two hearths, each on one side of it. Despite the early hour, most people in Fort Haight were up and about.

“Good morning Ser Yura, Lady Soralis.”

Lord Haight spoke, sitting behind his desk.

“Please, have a seat, both of you.”

He continued, not expecting them to respond.

Both of them sat down on the other side of the desk. Soralis set her hands on the armrests, fidgeting with the lion’s head design. She kept her crimson optics on Kenneth Haight, unsure of what to say. She noted however that the Lord was now more refined. His hair, which was long the last time she saw him, had been cut down and slicked back. The stubble of a beard on his face was gone, leaving him clean shaven.

She went to speak, but Yura was faster.

“We would like to thank you for your hospitality, Lord Haight”

The lord gave them a half-smile. His eyes remained unchanged.

“I owe it to you both. Because of you we only had two casualties.. Had you not been there it would’ve been a whole different story.”

Soralis took the chance to speak:

“What’s with the ‘Ser’ and ‘Lady’?”

Kenneth Haight picked up a grape from a bowl on his desk. He put it in his mouth and chewed slowly, deliberately. He only answered when he was done.

“You’ve both been knighted for your service to me. This means that my soldiers will treat you with respect and obey your commands in my absence. However, you are not forced to serve me. I would not want to impose that on you. I know you’re on the hunt for the rest of the bloody fingers.”

The pair stood in silence. Knighted? Soralis never thought of herself as a noble person, but perhaps her path was one that strived for good. She liked the idea of it. She could leave her past of bloodshed in the past. She could, but she also couldn’t. She would have to bear with being a killer for a little bit longer, so she could save her old friends from this cruel world. So she could finally find out why she was even here.

Her attention was brought back to the conversation as Yura inquired:

“I can’t help but assume you have something to ask of us.. Or am I to accept that you’ve given us such courtesy out of the kindness of your heart, Lord Haight?”

The lord chuckled, this time the smile was genuine.

“Ah! Now you’re catching on. Well- I do want to thank you, so as I’ve already told you, you may stay for as long as you need to rest.” He took a sip of wine from a gold goblet, his bejeweled rings tapping against it as he picked it up. “I will also provide you with provisions, armor, and weapons.”

He ate another grape before speaking again.

“What I have is a proposal- or rather, a request.”

Soralis raised a brow.

“We’re listening.”

She exclaimed. The noble smiled at her.

“I want you to kill Godrick the Grafted for me.”

Yura gaped as soon as those words reached his ears. Soralis turned to him, her eyes questioning his reaction. She turned back to Kenneth Haight, tilting her head. The Lord kept his eyes on her. She couldn’t help but feel judged. Of course, his gaze betrayed nothing, but she knew that was what he had to be thinking.

She’d dealt with nobility before, when she was still a Bloody Finger. Though, those nobles knew not how to hide their emotions, or rather, didn’t care if they showed them.

“Oh dear..”

The noble chuckled as Soralis stared at him, half thinking.

“I don’t know what you see in me, but I’d argue it’s misplaced.”

He murmured before eating yet another grape. Soralis wondered if she’d let too much of what she was feeling come out through her face. “The reason I want Godrick gone is obvious..” The man’s hands moved to the plate of food in front of him. Venison sided with boiled potatoes. He worked with his knife and fork, cutting a bite sized piece off. “He isn’t fit to be lord for many reasons, and his diluted ‘royal’ blood is barely one of them.” He placed the piece of venison in his mouth and chewed slowly. He closed his eyes in bliss. Silence hung in the room, until he was done. “Limgrave needs a better ruler. It’s important that in a trying time such as this, we act as one. With that man though… By Marika, he can barely be considered a man.”

Yura cut in, over his initial shock. Still, beads of sweat showed on his forehead. It wasn’t because of the heat.

“Why me and Soralis? Don’t you have an army Lord Haight?”

The noble smiled at Yura, amused. “Yes, indeed, I do have an army. An army that will be reduced to dust should I just attack Stormveil head on. Our only saving grace as a rebellion is Godrick’s fear. It’s true, the man is coward enough to never leave his castle, keeping his elite knights close by.”

“But how would we do it? The man’s a demigod! He’s killed thousands of people. I’ve heard it told from various survivors.. I’ve seen people try to challenge him.. none ever returned.”

Haight waved his hand dismissively as Yura spoke. “Same old story. I’ve heard it many times.” The man’s eyes pinned Yura down with fierce determination. “I didn’t expect to hear it from you though, Bloody Finger hunter.”

The hunter didn’t flinch. He stared right back. “I never expected I’d be called a coward for not wanting to face a demigod.”

The noble gasped. “Oh dear, whoever said that?” He set a hand on his chest as he looked off to the side, before turning back to the pair, setting his head over his hands, fingers entwined.

“You were right, we do have something else to do, Lord Haight.” Soralis stated. She wasn’t interested in a fell demigod. It would indeed do good to Limgrave, if he really was what they said he was, but why did she have to do something about it? Haight was the one with noble convictions. Soralis and Yura had enough to worry about already.

“Hmm… That may be so, but where are you off to next? That both of you are hunting the Bloody Fingers together I’ve gathered, but… How will you find them if they don’t come for you?” Half of his plate was gone. He took another sip of wine from his goblet. “Well- I suppose someone might know something about murders occurring in the lands between, but can you really know who it is? It’s a time of war. People get killed all the time.”

Yura sighed before responding. “We’re sorry, but this’ll be it. I’m not interested in endangering myself or my allies over this.”

The Lord hummed in a low tone. “I see, but you have yet to hear my offer.”
None spoke, so Haight continued. “I may know where you can find another Bloody Finger. Perhaps it’s that Eleonora you spoke about.”

Soralis didn’t react, and she hoped Yura wouldn’t either. He’d been spying on them. The bastard had been spying on them. That servant outside their room must have been listening in the whole time.

“Even so..” Yura said sternly. Soralis noticed his shaking hand and grasped it gently. He had to be furious, the shaking being the only indication he let on. “How can you think we’d stand a chance against that fiend? We can’t kill Godrick, Lord Haight.”

Haight hummed once more, then chuckled. “You must be quite modest if you really think so. It’s either that, or you don’t quite understand who you have sitting next to you, now noble and aligned with good. Bloody Fingers are assassins, hunter, or shall I remind you of that? If you’ve travelled with her, you must know that they are capable of much more than mere assassination, too. Do this for me, and you’ll have all I’ve already granted you, and more. Then if, and only if you bring me his head, I’ll give you the information I have on a Finger’s possible location. You wouldn’t want to miss that, would you? It might be Eleonora after all.”

Yura and Soralis exchanged a glance. His shaking had stopped, so the girl took her hand away. His eyes asked the question without him even saying it.

Can you well and truly kill a demigod?...

Well. She didn’t know. But if he bled.. She could try. She looked back at the noble, who was finished with his meal by now.

“In any case, you may think about it for as long as you need, but know that lives are being lost because of him every day. Now, if you please, I’d like to bathe.”

They had no choice but to leave without saying a word. They both stood up mechanically, and walked away. They wouldn’t speak to each other about this, not until they were certain they wouldn’t be heard.

“Where’s… Kale?” Soralis asked as she shut the heavy iron door of the Lord’s study behind her.

“Around. He’s been selling a lot of things lately.” Yura responded healfheartedly. Clearly, he was still thinking of what Haight had said.

“Alright. Let’s go find him. We need to talk.”

*

Soralis walked out into the courtyard, Yura by her side. The place was louder than usual. There was a gathering of soldiers near the southwestern corner, all standing around someone. The girl could barely make out a red cap. It was Kale wasn't it?

“Yes.. the land of Caelid is quite perilous, I'd never go again if my life didn't depend on it”

The soldiers had gathered around him, listening to his stories and asking various questions. He'd sold them a lot of things too, from weapons and arrows to talismans and foodstuffs. How they traded runes was beyond her. Apparently Kale knew how to gather and store them, always sealing it with a handshake.

“Morning everyone. We're going to need some time with our popular friend here, if you don't mind.”

Every single soldiers set their foot down as soon as they noticed who exactly was speaking.

*”Yes, Sir Yura”* they spoke out in unison. *”Lady Sorális”* They acknowledged her as well.

“Ah… my two bigshots are finally here. How are you? How did the healing go?”

Sorális smiled as she saw him, ignoring his question until she hugged him.

“We're alright… both of us.. And.. they're treating you well I see.”

The merchant chuckled.

“It's nice to see you too.” His hands ran along her upper back. Sorális welcomed the feeling. “You could say that.” He continued after they pulled back from the embrace. “Been selling a lot more lately. I think I’ll be able to do something I’ve been trying to put together for a while now.”

“What’s that?” Yura asked, his interest piqued.

The merchant gathered the wares he’d laid out over a table. “We’ll talk about that when we’re alone” He explained.

“Good.” Responded Yura. They were already on the same page.

With his things gathered, Talla appeared next to him, coming into form out of a light blue light. Soralis stopped herself from hugging the mule immediately- well, as much of her as she could at least.

The merchant set a bag of things on the mule’s back, then she disappeared again. “Why won’t you keep her out here?” Asked Soralis as they all walked to the main gate. They’d have a stroll to discuss their plans. Things like these no longer needed to be said between them. “I can’t simply trust everyone with my things, or my mule. You’d be surprised how easy it is for someone that seems good to betray you without second thought. I’ve seen a fair share of thieves.”

Soralis nodded. It made sense. They didn’t know every single one of the soldiers, and even if they did, they wouldn’t know them well enough.
The men stationed at the gate acknowledged Yura and Soralis by name once more. She didn’t know how she felt about this new title, and this respect they suddenly decided to show her. It was similar to something she’d experienced before, but still different. She was used to reverence, perhaps fear. One couldn’t get high up the ranks of the Bloody Fingers without the blood of thousands of people.. The Pale Finger she was called. Probably because of the fact that her hair used to be silver.. Perhaps it wasn’t, she couldn’t really trust what she saw in the blood realm, could she?... Even though she believed that, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that what she was told would come true later down the line. The girl brought a hand to her black hair, grazing a finger along it. How could it have changed?

*

“The Mistwood again, huh?”

Yura asked no one in particular. They did seem to have a propensity toward forests, and the outside in general, despite the comforts they could easily have back at Fort Haight. Perhaps the ‘certainty’ between its walls was simply feigned. Perhaps the uncertainty of untamed lands was safer.

“Now. What do you have planned, Kale?” The hunter asked as he glanced around. They were standing in the middle of an opening. Upon looking up he realized it was the same opening he’d fought Sena in. The rope from which a man hanged not long ago was still there. No man though. Haight must have ordered his men to give him a proper burial. Good.

“You two first. I’m certain you came to me with trouble stewing again.” Kale said with a smug grin. He was right of course, but he had no real way of knowing, right?

“Alright.” Yura accepted. He looked to Soralis. She assumed it was half to make sure they should explain it, and half to check if she wanted to explain.

She did worry about Kale interfering but.. The merchant did seem to have an awful lot of aces up his sleeves. It wouldn’t be that bad to have him with.

“Lord Haight gave us a proposal..” She started. Kale nodded slowly, expecting the rest. “He told us he knows where a Bloody Finger might be… Which would help our cause a lot.. We don’t know where to look next, and let’s be honest, we found Sena by coincidence.” He nodded again as Soralis explained, butting in to ask.

“Hm.. It would be useful to us, true. But.. What is it that he needs in return? Help with his rebellion? What else could he need from you two?”

The girl glanced at Yura for a moment. She hesitated. “He wants us to… Kill the ruler of Stormveil..” Kale’s eyes darkened as the realization set in. “Godrick the Grafted.”

The merchant froze, moving his head slightly. “Are you completely sure that’s what he asked? That’s- That’s madness!” He was almost yelling, but his tone lowered as soon as he remembered they had to be quiet. “You said no, right??”

Soralis glanced down sideways for a moment. Thinking. “I don’t think I want to say no… I think we should take his offer.”

The merchant glanced between them frantically before taking a deep breath and looking back at the girl. “Why?” He said. Just that word.

“We have to find the rest of them.” She responded.

“And do you agree with this?” He asked Yura.

“I’d follow her wherever she went” He said plainly, but Soralis knew he said it with his soul.

Kale huffed, conceding the topic. “Alright… then I suppose what I've got planned will be of help.”

“And… What would that be?” Sorális asked, tilting her head.

“Remember that flower?” Kalé asked, glancing over her ear where she'd placed it.

*

Castle Morne Gate, a few hours ago

A thunder strike illuminated the all-consuming darkness of night. The giant warhorse’s armor shone brightly as its head rammed into Raphael’s chest. He was being pushed back, his feet planted into the ground. Blood seeped through his chainmail as he poured all of his strength into stopping this unstoppable force. He would be the immovable object. The giant knight couldn't reach him. His horse’s head was in the way.

Eitan looked on as Raphael miraculously brought horse and rider to a stop, holding on to the beast’s head. The warhorse shook and thrashed and whined, but the knight simply tightened his grip on it, dull gold ethereal claws digging into the sides of its neck.

Its rider grunted displeasure. The horse, like a frightened child, moved to appease its parent, opening its mouth and moving forward, despite the wound inflicted by Raphael's magic claws.

Its teeth sank into Raphael’s forearm, tearing flesh as it pulled back. The knight gritted his teeth as he stumbled forward. The rider huffed as he jumped down, his armor clanking.

“Extraordinary strength.” He growled out in his deep voice. Raphael looked on warily. He drew his straight sword. Not his preferred weapon, but it'd do.

“Were you an ally of mine, I'd graft you after death…” He continued, drawing his second greatsword, wielding one with each arm. “Because of that… I'll give you the honor of killing you with all I've got.”

Another pair of arms revealed themselves from under his wolfskin cloak. They were very slender and elegant. The arms of a woman. Each held a large dagger. Raphael couldn't help but feel sick. He didn't feel the need to say anything to this beast.

The hulking knight made a move to attack Raphael. Before he could even ready his first swing, he was struck in the side. Eitan had made it to them. His blade was now lodged into the knight.

The knight's only response was to growl as blood trickled down the blade. Mild annoyance. Eitan glanced between the man and the wound he inflicted on him, wondering if he'd even done anything to him.

The warrior dashed back toward Raphael, readying himself. “Are we really fighting him?” He asked. Raphael shrugged. “It's not the smart thing to do, but I'm not turning my back on this beast.” He got as a response. They both stood at the ready, swords raised. They wouldn't attack him first. With four arms, it was like fighting against two people at once.

With them waiting, the man made his advance, walking forward aggressively. He would've attacked if not for the arrows falling on and around him. The men of Castle Morne were defending them. The leader of the riders stared up at them. Eitan could have sworn he could feel his rage through the greathelm.

Despite the arrows, the knight walked forward.
“Eitan! Raphael! Hurry!” It was Melina. She was shouting at them from behind the gates. Eitan let out a sigh of relief. She'd make it at least. “They're shutting the gates!” She cried out afterwards.

The riders were breaking apart, running away, some with and some without horses. Eitan and Raphael sheathed their blades and bolted for the gates, taking the opportunity.

“Come back you cowards! I'll skin you alive!” The leader yelled out loudly. Whether he was saying it to his men or them, Eitan was not sure, but as the iron gate descended above him, he cared less and less about their pursuer, and more about whether they'd make it in time or not. Metal argued with stone as it lowered.

Raphael ran past the gate just in time. Eitan’s heart beat faster and faster. He’d have to at least crouch, and there wasn't enough time. As a last ditch resort, he lunged forward, abandoning all caution.

The warrior slid on the brick floor safely, the gate closing shut behind him. Looking back, he saw the giant of a knight sheathing his blades. Arrows came at him, but he didn't even flinch. He just took the ones that hit him, and turned around, walking away.

Eitan dreaded the day he’d return, and he was certain Raphael felt the very same thing.

“We're here… finally… home” Irina mumbled. Eitan glanced at Melina standing right beside the girl. He walked to her in a few paces. Looking into her eyes he saw pure glee. The maiden smiled at him, and all he could think about was the fact that she was safe. Safe from all the carnage out there. Just safe.

“Now what?” Raphael asked as he walked further into the castle. “We're not out of trouble. You can hear it too, right? The screaming? The fighting? Whoever helped us may be safe, but the rest are dead or dying. Castle Morne is a warzone.”

Eitan turned back to Raphael. Melina wasn't safe after all. “We've walked out of one warzone and into another..”

“Father must be alright… he should have been the one who gave the order to shoot…” Irina either had amazing perception, or Melina had explained everything to her.

“So, we should get to him.. somehow.” Eitan stated. He didn't know how to do it, or where to go, but. It was what they needed to do.

“There's a lift straight from here. After that, we’ll be in the main courtyard. Straight from there there's a ladder that’ll take us to the upper wall.. that's where father has to be.” Irina explained. Raphael’s eyes widened in surprise. Thank Marika they had the girl with them. If they didn't they'd never be able to navigate the castle.

“Ugh.. I'd hoped we got to rest now, but I guess not. Your father better take good care of us after this” Raphael mused. The girl chuckled in response. “Of course he will.”

*
Gears shifted and chains stretched out as they all stepped onto a platform. With the pull of a lever, the mechanism raised them up, slowly but surely. Sounds of old rusty metal parts moving echoed from deep below.

“Will this thing actually hold?..” Eitan asked Irina. The girl nodded. “Of course it will. My father’s soldiers use it every day, fully armed.” She held onto Melina’s hand for guidance. Despite the harrowing sounds of carnage, she seemed quite calm. Maybe being home was good enough for her.

“What about the noise?” Raphael added. The girl only smiled subtly. “Well- it's been doing this ever since I was little. It'll hold-.. probably.” The knight sucked in a breath, trying to ease himself.

A deep rumble reached their ears. It came from far away. A storm was definitely upon them. Strike after strike was landing all around the castle. “Oh that's hopeful.” Raphael remarked, a smile on his face.

As hopeful as they'd get in this predicament. This day had been like an avalanche, and when it came to hope, hoping that this was as bad as it could get was the best Eitan could do.

The warrior glanced at Raphael, noting his injuries. His arm had been tended to, wrapped up by a dull red piece of fabric. Hm. Part of Irina's cloak. She was resourceful, much less of a liability than he thought she'd be.

He had to grant it to her, they'd probably be dead without her, then again they wouldn't have come to Castle Morne if not for Raphael finding her in the first place.

Eitan smiled to himself. His father would have told him off for thinking like that. Hell, he would have probably slammed his head into a table for it. He was taught to live by honor, had vowed to do so as a true warrior.

Stubborn to a fault, he would live and die for this. If he had any strength, he should use it to help others, to pave a path for those who couldn't.

The screams of suffering were closer now. Much closer. Blades clashing against blades cries of men in their death throes. He wished he'd never have to hear that again, wished no one would have to, yet he was ready to march forward despite it.

A bright light shone into the lift chamber as it reached the courtyard. Eitan covered his eyes as it stung, not just because of the intensity, but because of a searing heat that reached him.

As he slowly moved his arm out of the way, it came into view. A large pyre, at least ten feet tall. It was completely made up of corpses, burnt and burning.
Around it stood many inhuman creatures. Short in stature with features of many beings. Their faces slightly resembled human faces, but their eyes were beady, their mouths far too wide, and their teeth too rectangular.

Each of them had long white hair that reached their shoulders. Misshapen wings adorned their back, though some of them looked like they could be used to fly. Their legs looked reptilian, and their hands were small and stubby.

Most held weapons. Cleavers, swords, axes, even bows. The warrior felt a streak of fire flow down his spine. He couldn't contain his rage. How could they be such…

“Monsters…” he spoke out. Raphael stood behind him, holding his blade half-heartedly. His hand shaking.

Eitan should have waited, should have planned something out with the others, but as he saw them yelling loudly, weapons held sky high, he dashed forward. How could they be celebrating such an atrocity?

He didn't look back at his friends or warn them. He didn't worry for their safety. They were as safe as they could be. Not one of these monsters would survive.

He ran straight for the pyre, longsword drawn. He held it down low in a two handed grip, ready to slash or block, whichever was necessary first. Some of the beasts turned as they heard him due to his heavy armor, which he was easily hauling along with him.

One of them leaped at him, but he slashed clean through it before it could even start lowering its cleaver.

He made for where most of them were gathered. They had already seen him. One quickly drew and shot two arrows at him. Eitan didn't even flinch as he raised his blade, swatting one of them away by tapping its tip. The other flew past him and into a wall. An axe wielding beast swung at him sideways, and another holding a mace ran toward him.

The warrior dodged the axe strike, his eyes blazing like the pyre beside him. Without hesitation, he shoved a mailed fist right into the beast’s face. Those flat teeth flew everywhere as they shattered and poured out of its gaping maw.

The mace-wielding beast was already lowering its weapon, but Eitan didn't forget about it. His sword hand had moved on its own, the beast’s head already severed. The headless corpse fell to the floor with a thud.

He'd killed most of the ones on this side of the pyre, but more of them approached from deeper in the courtyard. They all roared at him with their raspy voices.

Through all of the pandemonium, a group of soldiers broke out of a barricaded door. Six of them if he counted right. They bore Godrick's coat of arms, but so did Irina’s father. They were allies until proven to be the opposite.

Beasts took to the skies, bows in hand. Eitan sighed in frustration as he saw them drawing their bows. There were at least five of them.

As arrows rained down on him, he pivoted, dodging one, and deflecting another with his blade. With his newfound speed and power he could keep this up for a while. After another wave of arrows they got the hint, and one of them dove right at him, holding a dagger. The warrior slashed at it sideways, but the beast dodged with a maneuver.

Tucking its wings back, the monster stabbed him in the shoulder as it held on to his back. Hot breaths of exertion lapped against his nape. He couldn't raise his sword. The blade in his shoulder had locked his movement. The warrior cried out as the beast held him still for its allies to shoot at him. Two arrows whirred toward his head. He couldn't move out of the way.

The arrows were right in front of his eyes. Had time stilled? No. The soldiers were clashing with the rest of the monsters. The pain in his shoulder and the weight on his back was still there. Instead of continuing forward, the projectiles bounced back, hitting both beasts in the head, killing them instantly.

The weight on Eitan's back became lighter. A head rolled through his legs in front of him. The rest of the weight left as something thudded behind him.

“Eitan- what were you thinking?” Melina cried out as she placed a hand on his shoulder. She'd set a barrier of pure gold magic around them, keeping the beasts at bay. One of them was slamming its cleaver against it, but to no avail. “Raphael, take care of that one. Irina. Stand behind me. I'll keep you safe.”

Both of them complied as the maiden poured her golden magic over Eitan’s shoulder. Warmth filled him as it worked on him, reattaching muscle fiber and tendons. Within seconds, the wound had sealed. “I can only do this a few more times. Be careful.” She said to him as he turned around.

“Now go. Help the others. I'll cover you if you need me.” He saw it in her eyes. How much she believed in him.

After the healing, his mind was no longer clouded by rage. He took a moment to recalibrate. The beast that was stabbing him had been slain. Presumably by Raphael, since its head had been cut off.

Castle Morne’s soldiers were already clashing with the monsters, pushing them deeper into the courtyard. According to Irina, that was the path they should follow to get to her father. This was it. Their perils were over.

The warrior marched onward, Raphael by his side, Melina and Irina following close behind them. “Die! Misbegotten scum!” One of the soldiers cried out as he lowered a longsword onto a beast. The Misbegotten. Was that what these things were?

Glancing at Raphael, Eitan noticed him looking on, solemnly. “Are you alright?” He asked. His voice came out rough. He'd exerted himself too much during this fight. “No. But I will be.. sooner or later” Raphael replied, sheathing his blood-stained blade.

Apparently, the fight was over, in the courtyard at least. Most Misbegotten were dead or dying. The soldiers ignored the ones in their death throes, giving them scornful looks. Eitan couldn't blame them for that. He didn't understand why this fight had happened in the first place, but after seeing the pyre, he couldn't blame them for their hate.

As Melina and Irina approached, Eitan made his way forward. Bodies of soldiers were littered around. Lifeless and dull eyes looked up at the sky, as if there was something to be found there. The warrior looked away. The finality of death was not something he could get behind. It was something he and many others could be exempt to, in this order, but it still bothered him. People waged wars without concern for the preservation of life. Life that once belonged to every single one of these people. People who were husbands and brothers and sons.

The courtyard narrowed. The soldiers that had fought with them were now following them, weapons put away. If they had any intention of fighting them, it didn't show.

“You've saved us.” One of them murmured as he walked past the group. “Thanks”, said another. Eitan halted as the other four walked past, nodding their appreciation.

An eerie silence filled the castle. All Eitan could hear was the wind, and the sound of footsteps as they all walked through mud and guts.

The storm had finally reached them, after a whole night. There was no longer any thunder. Only raindrops, cleansing the night away.

Eitan looked up as he stepped onto the lift’s platform, and watched the rain fall. Perhaps it would wash away the blood from his hands.

*

Seeing Edgar Morne hold his daughter close brought Eitan little solace. This victory felt hollow. He could brand the misbegotten as monsters, or as people, or as animals. He'd still killed. He'd still let himself loose.

“I can't thank you all enough. You've saved my daughter, my men, and my castle. For this I will be ever grateful to you.”

Edgar exclaimed in his deep gruff voice. None responded with more than a nod or an acknowledgement by glance.

They hadn’t journeyed far, but it wasn't a journey any of them would embark on again. Eitan wondered how he'd ever make it to Leyndell. The land was war-torn. It wasn't just Limgrave that was dangerous. All of the Lands Between were dangerous. Liurnia, Altus, not to mention Caelid.

He didn't feel so negative about it back when he’d heard talk of such things, but now that he witnessed them first hand he didn't know if he could take it.

“Please, rest in my keep. I'll provide any comfort I can.”

Edgar continued.

Raphael looked up at him. “Don't you have other things to worry about? Those knights. Godrick sent them, didn't he?”

Edgar’s lips thinned. “Yes. They were led by Lesta, Godrick’s son.”

Raphael would have acted more surprised were he not tired. “Godrick’s son, eh? That means we fought against a demigod…”

Eitan chuckled to himself. “That explains his size.. Lesta… We won't be safe if he’s prowling Limgrave.”

Lord Morne took a step forward. “You need not worry about that. You'll be safe behind my castle walls.”

“Will we? Will you? If I understand correctly, you've affronted your lord as a vassal…” Raphael stated

Edgar gave the knight a grin. “Correct. I have. But his forces have thinned out quite a bit. I doubt he’ll be able to do anything about me joining Kenneth Haight in his rebellion.”

A rebellion. That was to be expected. Morne didn't seem like the kind of person to serve, not someone like Godrick.

“But enough about that.” The man took his daughter’s hand. “Follow me. I'll take you to my keep. You may bathe and rest as you need. We'll prepare a feast. This is a great occasion… also, I've already promised my men ale” The soldiers behind him bantered between themselves. Morale was good, despite their losses.

*
Edgar Morne had provided the group with two rooms. The servants had shown Raphael to his own, and walked Melina and Eitan to the other.

“Thank you.” The maiden said to a servant as she closed the door behind her.

Eitan moved toward the bed, but Melina grabbed him by the shoulderpiece of his armor.

“Hey. You'll get the bed dirty.” She scolded him.

Under normal circumstances, he'd be too tired to care, but since it was her saying it… he took a step back.

“They've readied the bathhouse for us.” She continued before he could say anything. In fact, she was so ahead of him, that she was already taking his armor off. “Alright..” he muttered

She took each piece off and placed it on a nearby table gently. Eitan could feel the weight lifting off of his shoulders. Gods, he was so sore.

A soft sigh escaped him as the maiden removed his breastplate. He felt like he could fall down at any moment. The fight, and the anxiety of the chase had taken much out of him.

“Quick. Wouldn't want the water to get cold, now would you?”

He hadn't even noticed that she removed his leggings, let alone that he was already following her as she pulled him forward by the hand. Now in just his undershirt and pants, he followed her out of the room and down a hall. How did she already know where the bathhouse was? He barely even remembered how to get back to their room.

“Here.” Melina said in her soft voice.
The maiden opened a room to the left of the hall and walked in, right through a wave of pleasantly warm steam.

Eitan closed the door behind him as soon as he got in. The room was quite spacious. In it there were two pools of hot water, separated purposefully by a stone brick wall.

“I'll be waiting in the room. Don't enjoy yourself too much.” Melina remarked as she left before Eitan had time to respond.

Didn't she want to join in?

Perhaps that would be weird. Ah, he was too tired to care about things like that.

The warrior took off his remaining clothes, tense muscles aching with every move. His pants stuck to his foot after he let them fall down. All he could do was sigh as he half-heartedly shook his leg to make them fall to the ground.

The water wasn't too hot to handle- it was actually just hot enough to burn his soreness away. He didn't need any convincing to get in, submerging himself for a moment, and then sitting by the side of the pool, on a seat carved of stone.

Eitan laid his head back and sighed out loudly. He could fall asleep just like that. This soothing warmth all over him. The absence of weight in water, and the wanders it all did to his pain body were all more than enough to take his worries off of the dangers of the land. He'd lived through this day, nothing could be worse.

With his body in such bliss, his mind slipped to other things. To comfort, to safety. To Melina. Really, what was she to him? A friend? An ally? They were no longer just bound by the accord. In truth, their relationship stopped being like that ever since he reached out to her… and she listened. Back when his old friends were still alive.

He recalled the way she looked at him when she saved him earlier today. With eyes full of worry, but willing to go to great lengths to protect him. This was a great contrast compared to the first time he saw those amber optics. Back when he first arrived in the lands between. She was formal, distant, cold even. It was all about fulfilling a mission.

Eitan guessed that compared to that, they were definitely something now, but he couldn't quite place it.

When he joked with Raphael, insinuating they'd… crossed a line together, she simply laughed it off.
Of course no such thing happened, and he wanted to slap himself for saying it, albeit jokingly.

He sighed. Perhaps he was grasping at straws, looking for something that wasn’t there at all.

“Hey, you still alive in there?” Raphael said from behind the door as he knocked. His voice was muffled, but Eitan could tell it was him.

“Yeah.. come in.” He mumbled with all the volume he could muster. The knight burst into the room a few moments later, wearing clothes Eitan assumed were given to him by servants; quite a change from his tactical leather armor. A simple white shirt and pants.

“I saw Melina in the hall, so I guessed I'd join you.” Raphael explained as he undressed and sank into the pool like a rock, sitting on the side opposite to Eitan. “At first I just thought I'd wait, since I thought you two would.. be here together.”

Eitan raised his head from the brick floor slightly, just to shake it after glancing at the knight. “Nah… nothing like that. We're not like that.”

Raphael tilted his head after wetting his face with some water. “What? But you said-”

Eitan raised a hand to interrupt him. “I was joking, man- just playing around. And she heard me say it no less.” The warrior scoffed at himself.

Raphael raised a brow as Eitan spoke. “Hm. That's weird.”

“You mean that I'd joke about that? Yeah. It is.” Eitan responded, his voice low.

“Well yeah- it is a little bit, but that's not what I was talking about. I mean that-...” The knight turned his head to the side, thinking. “It's just that it actually did seem that way to me. That you were together I mean.”

Eitan raised his head again. “You're kidding. We treat each other like me and you do.”

Raphael shrugged. “It doesn't seem that way to me. With you two it’s… softer. You know?” He brought a hand to the back of his head, scratching. “No matter what it is, I think you two will settle on something eventually.”

The warrior could only phase out and look into the distance at that last sentence. Maybe they would figure it out in time. But still, he couldn't help but be troubled.

He glanced at his friend once more. The knight only looked back with a smug smile on his face. Eitan snorted. “Alright. I get it. It'll be okay.” He waved him away as he stood up, getting out of the pool.

He made his way to a rack where towels were laid out. He patted it over his body, drying himself out, and then tied it around his waist. “I've had my fill of warm water for now. You keep on enjoying yourself.”

“Of course I will, I wasn't planning on doing anything else.” Raphael winked as he laid back and stretched, groaning.

Picking up his clothing, Eitan left, walking back down the hall and knocking on their bedroom door. No response.

He opened the door slowly, but no one was there. Well, he did take a while in the bathhouse, maybe Melina took a walk or sent off to get something she needed. He didn't need to worry. She could handle herself.

She had returned here. A fresh change of clothes lay on the bed for him. Without hesitation he put them on and set his towel on a nearby chair.

His tiredness was calling to him, so he laid down on the bed, confining himself to one side in case Melina came back. His eyes were closing shut on their own. It took less than a minute for him to concede to sleep.

Even if he was too far into sleeping to react, he did feel a warm hand slither under his arm, resting on his chest as another body slid closer to him, sharing its warmth with him.

Chapter Text

Sorális walked through Fort Haight’s halls. Despite having been here for a few days, she still got lost regularly. Somehow, every hallway and room seemed familiar, but she couldn't place them all together for the life of her. If she found another couple, another soldier and servant girl hiding away together to do their business in a storage room she’d flip.

She didn't envy them, but she had to admit that it would be nice to have someone. She didn't remember if she ever did have someone actually, back home. Well, despite what most people did, she couldn't think about it for long when so many important things were happening.

She took a left turn, continued down a hall, then a right. A dead end, a room to her left, and a room to her right. She groaned loudly, bringing a palm to her forehead.

A pauldron hit her left cheek as she angled her head. She took a moment to appreciate it. Again. Her whole armor set was a work of art.

Of course it was light in order to complement her fighting style, but it offered protection in critical points. It was a set of armguards, a chestplate, shoulderguards, and a silver hair clip, all made by the same blacksmith.

The man needed only one look to decide what he'd make for her. Sorális wasn't expecting much, but she fell in love with the sleek design as soon as she saw it. Shining pieces of ruby adorned the hair clip which she used to set her hair up in a ponytail.

The armor pieces were thin. Made completely of iron. The shoulderguards tilted upwards to a point. They were simple in design but incredibly smooth, and so was the rest of her armor.

Apparently the reason why the blacksmith didn't make a more defined design was because in his words:

You do not yet know who you are

What an odd man. From the Land of Reeds, just like Yura, for whom the blacksmith was currently making an armor set. Sorális hadn't yet told Lord Haight that they intended to agree to his request.

Kalé was still unsure about it, the girl knew. He'd already decided to come with, even though she told him he didn't have to. He even devised a plan in order to help with combat. For that, they'd have to gather more pale flowers. She hoped it'd go better this time.

“Lady Sorális?” A voice spoke from behind the girl. Sorális turned around slowly, unbothered. It was a young soldier. Since he was holding a good amount of swords in his hands, she guessed they were near the armory. Not that she knew exactly where that was.

"Are you lost again?" The soldier asked her. Sorális huffed. "Yes.." she admitted to him. "That's alright. Where do you need to go?" The young man continued. He seemed to be polite by nature, not just because of Sorális' station. "I'm looking for Lord Haight. I was headed for his chambers."

The soldier nodded in response. "That's on the other side of the fort. I can take you, I just need to leave these at the courtyard. Luckily, that's on the way there, so I can lead you." Sorális smiled slightly. "That's so kind of you." The soldier smiled too. "No no, I just want to help."

He took the lead as he walked back the way Sorális came. "How did you wind up here?" He asked her casually. "Oh... You know- every hall looked the same to me... And I forgot which room was which... Ugh. This place is so big." Sorális explained, groaning. "It is big! I used to get lost too, but you'll get used to it."

Silence hung between them for a few moments until Sorális spoke. "What's your name? It feels odd that everyone knows mine but I don't know theirs."
The soldier gave her an odd look, but responded. "It only makes sense. You're a hero... You saved us all. You saved Lord Haight as well." He adjusted the swords in his arms since some were slipping. They made a clattering sound. "My name is Sam.. but you don't need to remember me. It's enough that you put your life on the line fighting those monsters." Sorális glanced away at that. 'Monsters'. He was referring to Séna and the crazed knight. Well, he wasn't wrong to say that, was he? All of the Bloody Fingers acted like monsters. Bloodthirsty fiends. "You're not like that." Sam exclaimed, speaking a bit loudly. Sorális jolted, startled. "Sorry-" He continued. "I just didn't want you to think I meant to insult you. I know you're not like that. Not like them. You're different... It shows in your eyes." Sorális still kept her eyes off of him, but she couldn't help but smile. "Thank you." She murmured, her arms crossed.

She hadn't noticed it, but they'd already reached the courtyard. "Now give me a moment, I'll be right back." Sam took a left, through the door to the courtyard and hurried to a group of soldiers. They all complained as he arrived. He talked back, explaining. They all calmed down immediately as they heard his response. Some even looked toward Sorális.

A few moments later he was with her again. "Now. Let's go." As Sam continued forward, Sorális was reminded of the first time she came here. The main keep was straight ahead after coming in from the courtyard. How could she have forgotten that? She brought a palm to her face in exasperation.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked. Sorális took a deep breath before responding. "Well- it's just that it's such an easy path. It's a bit embarrassing that I had to rely on you for it." Sam only chuckled In response. "It's not a problem for me. And as I said, don't go thinking you're the only one who gets lost like this."

They walked through the main hall, where Sorális first saw the Lord. His chambers were close. Her mind made the connection in that mental map everyone has.

The next few moments were completely silent. They hadn't run out of things to say. It was just that Sorális was thinking. Was she really all that important to them? Séna probably would have killed everyone. At the very least, she could have if she wanted to.

"This is it." Sam exclaimed as they walked up the final step of a staircase. A red carpet was laid out in front of them, leading up to the sturdy metal door to Haight's study. "Thank you Sam." Sorális said. The soldier only nodded in response, turning away to leave. That's when she realized that she hadn't really managed to get a good look at his face. He looked like every other soldier to her what with that helmet they all wore. "Wait." She said as she turned back. Sam obeyed, standing still, waiting for her to say something. "Can you take your helmet off for a moment?" The soldier stilled, but nodded soon after she spoke. "Sure." He said as he brought his hands to his helmet, unfastening the straps under his chin that kept it on his head.

With a simple move, it was off, and Sorális really saw his face this time. Sam had messy blond hair and kind green eyes. He looked quite young, yet he was hardened by what he'd endured, she could tell. He had multiple scars in his face. One over his lips, a gash that ran through them. Another on his cheek from a diagonal slash she guessed.

"I'll remember you." Sorális exclaimed as he stood there. Stunned, the soldier glanced at her for a moment. She assumed he didn't quite know what to say, because he only put his helmet on and nodded at her, the smile not leaving his face. With a respectful bow, he left, probably to go on about his day.

Sorális wondered whether or not she'd see him again. Perhaps, if he called out to her, but that wasn't something that was likely to happen in this culture.

With two clattering flicks, the door behind her opened. "Are you done chattering with my soldiers, Lady Sorális?" Lord Haight peeked a head out of his study. "I take it you're standing outside of my study because you're here to see me, and not because you were eavesdropping."

Sorális stared at him, unsure of what to respond to him. "I wanted to talk to you... About that proposal." She responded flatly. "Yes, yes." Kenneth Haight said as he opened the door further, allowing her in. "Come now. You'll join me for lunch." He said as he walked inside again, his blue-gold robes swaying behind him. "And lighten up a bit would you? You've been staying here for a few days now."

The lord sat down behind his desk and Sorális followed suit. "Forgive me Lord Haight, but I don't fully trust you yet." She said with as even of a tone as she could. The Lord raised a brow. "Well I'll be damned. I've never had anyone be so honest with me. Yet... You may not know it, but you're lying."

Sorális got confused. "How am I lying exactly?" She asked as she set a hand on his desk. Haight noted her movement with a glance, but said nothing about it. "If you truly didn't trust me, you wouldn't be staying here, sleeping in my beds, and eating my food." A servant came into the room with a tray of different kinds of foods. There was a platter of fruits like figs and cut up apples, and a plate with a large beef steak on it. It seemed like it was made in a furnace; the meat so supple it could crumble in one's mouth. A sweet smelling sauce was sprinkled over it. "You trust me with your life Sorális." She hadn't thought about that much. What reason did she have to trust the man? He was an enemy just a few days ago. Then again that was because of a misunderstanding. "Oh well..." Sorális sighed as she picked up a knife and fork, cutting into the beef steak, placing a bite sized piece into her mouth and chewing. She couldn't help but let out a moan of pleasure as the taste made its way over her tongue. "Ladies first." She mumbled. Lord Haight chuckled. "You're an odd one." He added. "I know." She responded. "I've been told this before."

"So. What have you decided? Will you and Yura be helping me with my cause?" Sorális nodded, chewing on a piece of fig she'd just torn apart with her hands, it's soft flesh peeling easily. "We will help you. Or rather- we will kill Godrick."

"Excellent!" The Lord exclaimed in an enthusiastic tone. "In that case..." He pulled his chair back and rummaged through the drawers of his desk. "Here.." he said as he pulled a red wine bottle out, setting it on the desk.

A servant that was sitting on the side of the room neared, opening the bottle with a tool, and serving both of them in pure gold goblets.

"To celebrate the occasion" He explained.

Sorális smiled subtly. She wasn't one for wine or alcohol in general but.. she'd only have a sip for the occasion. "To new allies" Kenneth Height toasted. "To new allies" Sorális repeated, and they clamped their goblets together heartily before taking a sip. Well, Sorális didn't stop at the sip, drinking the whole goblet instead, but it was a few more sips anyways.

"Ahh-" Haight exclaimed, enjoying his wine. "I make this at my own winery on the other side of my fort." The servant went to fill Sorális' cup again, but she raised a hand. She looked at him with an understanding gaze as if to say thank you. The servant smiled.

"But anyway, now that we've reached an agreement, should we discuss how we'll move forward?" The Lord asked. Sorális, now biting down on an apple slice, raised a finger. "We'll need to prepare a few things before we complete our part of the arrangement." She explained.

"That's all well. I'll just need to know when so I can make a bit of ruckus, draw some of his forces out so you don't have to face them all In case things go awry.

"We think we'll be ready in two days time." The girl responded. "That's fine by me" said Kenneth, chugging his goblet.

Good. Now all that remained was doing it. She had to go to a catacomb with Yura... Gather a few of those flowers. This time knowing their capabilities.

The girl made to leave, getting up. Lord Haight tilted his head before speaking. "Hey now- no need to rush. We can still talk over lunch"

Sorális thought about it for a moment. "Hm... Why not." She settled. "Wonderful" Haight responded.

They didn't talk much after all. If he too appreciated silence, it was a good lunch.

*
Castle Morne, Dawn

Raphael walked along the castle walls. The castle was much larger than he originally thought. It was built on the edge of a cliff, and looked almost as if it was ascending it. A few of it's towers even extended out of the sea, connecting to each other and then to the main castle. Beneath the furthest tower was a small sandy island.

“It used to be bigger, you know..” Raphael glanced sideways. It was Edgar Morne who spoke to him, leaning against a guardrail. “There were at least three more towers, but the wind worked on them over time.. I've been thinking about repairing them, but the sea makes it impossible. The castle was built by my forebears, when the sea level was much lower.”

Raphael set his hands against the guardrail as well, keeping his eyes on what remained of the towers. Just one of them was still visible. A piece of carved rock jutting out of the surface. “The sea is deep here.. How far down do they even go?” The knight asked.

Edgar chuckled in response. “Tales of my forebears speak of a castle so big one could not see all of it with their eyes.” After shifting slightly, and facing Raphael he continued. “But… I'd say they go on for about two rooms’ worth. Then they stop.”

Raphael listened as his eyes turned to that sandy island. Something drew him to it. A very weird feeling. A feeling because of which he hadn't been able to sleep for more than a few moments.

"Do you hear it? That misbegotten." Edgar asked.

The knight tilted his head in response. He had no idea what he was talking about. He thought they'd taken care of all of them.

"One more beast remains behind my castle walls... One described as a lion, a reptile, and a human, all at once. A Leonine." Raphael's eyes widened. He remembered encountering one of those.. back in Leyndell, during the great purge.

Edgar grunted. "You know more about them than you let on, don't you? That they're not beasts for example..."

The knight swallowed. His throat was dry. Too dry. According to the teachings of the golden order, everything living outside of grace was wrong. Everything upon which the grace of gold did not shine on was to be eradicated. And the misbegotten did not fall under the Erdtree's rays of gold.

"I fought against them during the civil war in Leyndell... I've fought against one... They're extremely powerful... And very savage.." His chest tightened as he spoke about them. Yes. He did fight and kill many of them in battle, but some truths he hadn't been warned about... Such as the fact that these "beasts" were people, and that they had families and children.

"...What made them attack your castle all of a sudden?" Raphael asked the Lord. "I would assume Godrick put them up to it... He sent them to me as slaves... If I had any choice in the matter I would've sent them back " Edgar explained with a sigh. "So... I'm not willing to lose anyone else for this." The Lord continued. Raphael only listened. "Would you come with me? Help me take one last misbegotten down?" Raphael winced. He turned away. His hand resting on his blade. How many had he killed already? One the night before, and dozens back in Leyndell. Most of them fought to kill, but not that family he found hiding in the sewers.

Edgar hummed, looking off in the distance. "You don't have to if you don't want to." He said flatly. "I just thought you were strong.. you and me could probably take him on together." The knight glanced at Edgar solemnly. "Alright. Let's go."

*

Weeping Peninsula, Crossroads

The march was slow. Many of the knights were horseless. Most of the horses died when that tarnished called upon the tail of a dragon. Lesta let out a low growl as he thought about it. He thought the group would be easy prey but there was an aspect of the crucible among them. Not only that, but right when he'd cornered them, Morne decided to defect and then against him. Oh he'd kill him, the aspect, and the other warrior. He'd kill them all as soon as he got his hands on them.

A loud, ill-sounding cough cut his thought process off. Lesta glanced further down the road only to see one of the banished knights. "Why did you return?" The grafted knight growled. "I didn't leave, sir- I only meant to evade the arrows." Lesta took two steps toward him and reached him. He'd gotten hit, an arrow was still in his leg. Oh how fed up with them he was... Each and every one of them ran away as soon as they noticed danger. "Besides- you got us into a trap sir- with all due respect." Right when he'd decided not to kill them for the hundredth time, the banished knight started digging his own grave. "What?" Lesta growled as he glared at him. "Yes. It was quite obvious they were luring you in. I mean they had Morne's daughter with them. Do you really think he would lock her out and put her in danger?"

It was all he could do not to cave his skull in with a punch, but before he could do anything, he felt the sting of cold metal in his back. The knight roared in pain as he stumbled forward. His chest heaved as he breathed heavily. Reaching back, he pulled a dagger out of his back, drenched in his blood. Hell, one of his organs had been ruptured, he could feel it. However... It wouldn't kill him soon. "You traitors..." He said through his breaths.

The knights didn't speak. They only held their weapons at the ready. "Perhaps it was a mistake to let you live this long.." He muttered as he moved to draw one of his greatswords. Before he could, the knight that was talking to him dashed forward, bringing a blade down toward him.

Lesta dashed into him, bashing him with the side of his armor and pushing him off balance. In an instant, he grabbed his throat and brought him closer. The pair of grafted arms on him worked, moving as they had In life, filling him with holes and slashes. The knight didn't even have enough time to scream. His body fell to the ground nearly drained of blood. Lifeless.

Another one of them attacked. No, they all came in together. Lesta had drawn his blade, so he used it to counter a hit, then kicked one of them away. A sideways slash took another's head off, and a punch to the face sent another one crashing into a nearby wall.

Four of them remained. He walked forward to kill the rest of them, but before he could take another step, a resounding clang sounded in his head, then the pain followed. He folded as his helmet rolled on the paved road. Blood seeped through his mouth, painting the road red.

One of Lesta's grafted arms moved by itself, attempting to pick up his helmet. "Elira?..." He muttered. Before he could even process this, the hand jolted, pulling him with it. He was forced to look up at the knight that attacked him.

His sword had sliced through Elira's arm, spilling no blood, but causing Lesta great pain. It wasn't physical, but it hurt. Even in death, she fought for him just as she would in life.

He saw red.

His arm thrust forward, gripping onto one of the knights' arm. He then pulled it sideways with such force that he tore it off, making him scream. The rest broke off, even the one that brought him to his knees. Lesta wouldn't let them run away.

Within two paces he had reached the one that hit him on the helmet with a mace. His greatsword cut through him like butter.

Not wasting a moment, Lesta ran toward the remaining knight, his eyes filled with fury.

All he could think about was what Elira said to him as she died in his arms. Don't trust them. She knew these knights were good for nothing. No.. perhaps they left her to die… or it was them who killed her.

“WHYY?” He cried out with a primal rage. The last banished knight had lost his helmet. Lesta saw the fear and desperation in that man’s eyes but he didn't care. Not one bit. They were all one and the same.

The knight put his all into running, but it wasn't enough. Lesta slammed into him, tumbling to the ground with him. The knight resisted, punching him in the face, but compared to the real pain he felt, this was nothing.

Lesta roared like a beast in pain as he forced his mailed fist into the knight's head. The man’s body jerked suddenly, and then crumpled. Breathing heavily, Lesta remained on his knees, right over a corpse.

Reality felt oppressive around him. He looked down at Elira’s ruined hand and grasped it gently. He’d have to change it. Take one of the knights’ arms to graft onto him. Then, he'd have to heal the stab wound in his back.

Did it even matter though? He had lost everything. These men were not an army with which he could realize his iron empire. He was not an inspiring leader.. he couldn't do this, not without Elira by his side. All he had left was his father.. the mission imparted to him. Perhaps he need only put one foot after the other and… protect him. Follow orders.

*
Limgrave Agheel Lake

It was difficult not to be reminded of what happened here a mere few months ago. The Leyndell army. Nerijus, the battle in the mist. This place carried a great deal of pain. Sorális was certain that Yura felt it too. This was where they lost Raphael as well.

“Something on your mind?” Yura asked. Sorális glanced at him, momentarily noting his new sleek black armor pieces, reminiscent of what the samurai of the land of reeds wore, but offering better protection. The blacksmith had even made another kasa for him. That iron hat. Sorális didn't like it one bit. She couldn't see his face.

“Yes… but it's okay.” She responded. It wasn't okay, but it should be, in time at least.

“We'll reach the place soon. Make sure to keep your mind sharp…” A short pause. “Tell me if you need anything.”

Sorális smiled at him as they walked under that ominous bridge once more. “Thank you, Yura.. But I really am fine.” Or… she would be.

The catacomb they were looking for was supposed to be on the left side of this ravine, though Sorális saw no sign of it yet.

“Ugh-.. What the hell is that smell?” She complained. She couldn't see where it was coming from. A piercing stench- it smelt like-

“Guts and sulfur… The scent of a dead dragon…” Yura muttered as he picked up the pace. “If we can smell it, it's got to be close… the wind blows north.”

Indeed, after walking a few paces, the body of a dragon entered their field of view. It lay at the bottom of the ravine, blocking the way through. Thankfully, it was a bit further back than the entrance to the catacombs, so it wouldn't obstruct their way.

“What could have killed it?...” Sorális asked. Yura took a moment, then continued. “Well… it's been a while since I've seen a drake-knight other than Eleonora.. one of them could have done it, seeking it's heart to enhance their powers.”

The smell got worse as they got closer. Sorális pinched her nose shut, and she just couldn't understand how Yura was enduring it. The hunter let out a chuckle. “Come on, it's not that bad.” Sorális stared at him. “How can you say that??”

“You get used to it after a few dragon hunts-" Yura stopped speaking suddenly. "What's wrong?" Sorális said as she glanced at him sideways. "It's just that... What on earth could have done this?" The girl followed his line of sight to the dragon. They'd seen it- it wasn't such a big deal was it? "Sorális... It's head is missing."

True, a crimson red stump lay in place of the beast's neck. "Could it not have been a drake-knight?" Yura tilted his head slightly. "I sure hope so..." The hunter turned toward the doors to the catacomb. Whatever lay within it was surely better than what did this to a dragon.

With a little effort the doors opened. Sorális pushed using minimal strength, yet they opened quite easily. The girl hummed to herself. She glanced at Yura to gather his thoughts. He nodded at her silently. They were thinking the same thing. Someone had been here recently.

Before walking in, Sorális halted. "Did you bring a..." Yura propped up a stick with a piece of cloth wrapped up on one end. He was dousing oil on it. "Torch.." she finished. The last time she'd ventured into one of those wasn't quite so... Pleasant.

"You know I always come prepared." Yura said full of pride. Sorális made a face as they walked in, the torch blazing alight with the click of a lighter. "Whaat?" He asked with a smile. "I may get into trouble, but I TRY to be prepared for it "

Sorális chuckled at him. "Yeah right, you're stuck at trying" Yura snorted. "You're one to talk." He retorted. They glared at each other momentarily. Then smiled as they walked down the steps.

"I hate this place already." Yura stated. Sorális nodded. "Me too." With Yura's acute sense of hearing it was impossible not to hear the ever-working mechanism all around them.

It sounded like this catacomb became aware of them, changing it's inner workings to better confuse and trap them. The hunter shuddered but moved forward despite this. "Is this the only place these flowers can be found in?... It can't be can it?"

Sorális took a moment to respond. She was too caught up with making out whether or not the floor around them actually was floor, or if it... Wasn't. "Bring your torch closer." She commanded. Yura set his question aside and followed her words, stepping closer.

They couldn't see where the abyss on either side of them ended. They both took a step back. "Hand me the torch, and follow close behind me."

With the torch in her hand she continued, trying to keep the seemingly endless abyss on either side of her at bay. "How did they even make this?..." She muttered to herself more than anything.

As they reached the end of what she finally realized was a bridge, two deathly white torches lit up on either side of the corridor. Sorális flinched, nearly falling off, but Yura's hand reached for her shoulder, steadying her.

"Thanks for that.. and to answer your question, for some god-damned reason they can only be found in these places." Yura didn't answer. He could be thinking of the reason why this phenomenon occured, or he was feeling the same pressure she was. Something was wrong here.

*

They'd been walking down the corridor for a while now. It stretched on for a few dozen feet until there was darkness. Then, two more pale torches lit up, showing them a path... If it was the path they meant to take.. they couldn't know. "....Shouldn't we have reached something by now?... What you described earlier had more rooms... This is just a very long corridor."

The girl kept on walking, the torch held up in front of her despite the light provided by the dungeon. It didn't feel right to her. It wasn't flame. It was cold. A dead fire.

Sorális clicked her tongue, annoyed at the fact that they weren't reaching anything. She turned back, Yura followed close by. "Where are we going?" The girl didn't answer as she walked faster and faster.

"Sorális!" Yura spoke up. Sorális halted. The lights didn't light up as she walked in the opposite direction. In fact, there were no torches at all. Just a wall. "But... How.." she spoke, her free hand grasping at the cool wall.

"Sorális, maybe we should just turn around..." The girl turned around and stared at him. "Turn around? We already did! This is where we came from!" She slapped her hand against the wall behind her. "There is no turning around-... Something was- no.. IS wrong."

Before Yura could respond, the corridor behind him tightened. A moment later it was closed shut, trapping them in a small box.

They both looked around. Yura kept his hand on his blade's hilt. Sorális was ready to call upon her twin piercers. The mechanisms around them whirred and worked, no doubt changing.

In a moment's notice, everything moved, end then the floor beneath their feet fell. They dropped and dropped and dropped. Sorális felt it within her. The moment from which and on she would die upon reaching the ground.

A light shone from deep beneath them. It would be their death. They would be crushed into the floor and be burnt by that horrifying dead flame.

None of them made a sound. They neared the end at an incredible speed, but as soon as they were an arm's length from the ground.

They stilled. That cold magic that fueled the flames had stopped their fall. They were lowered to the floor slowly, the flames licking at them, but causing no pain, only a faint coldness. Soon enough it dissipated into nothing.

Sorális got to her feet, Yura was already standing. They looked at each other with question in their eyes. "What the hell..." Sorális murmured. The room they were in was dimly illuminated, a torch on every other column, shining with that same white-cold fire. The room was littered with humanoid skeletons. A piece of bone crunched under Sorális' foot. She took her foot away.

On the other side of the expanse something shifted. They both glanced there immediately with a predatory speed. Two. Humanoid. Their blades already drawn. Yura's hand jolted to his blade. Sorális' piercer had already materialized, momentarily illuminating the room with her deep crimson bloodflame.

Chapter Text

They didn't have to communicate about how the fight would go. Sorális rushed in, dashing past and by pillars as she made for the enemies. Both tensed as they realized her speed and raised their shields. Sorális' piercer jumped off one shield and dematerialized. Before the girl could react, the other enemy was already swinging his sword. The only indication being the glint of the ghostly flame reflecting off the blade.

The blade didn't reach her. The sound of blades clashing echoed instead as Yura brought his nagakiba into the fight, just barely deflecting the hit with it's point with an upward slash.

The enemies stepped back, pacing. Sorális got a glimpse of them as they walked by a pale torch. Green surcoats, brass shields. Those were Godrick's soldiers. Knowing that, she didn't hesitate. She called upon her piercers again, summoning both of them in an eruption of bloodflame.

The soldier closest to her winced, and Yura took the chance. With a forward thrust and a sideways slash, the soldier's head was lopped off.

Immediately afterwards, the other soldier ran at Sorális, yelling in rage. She didn't even need to thing about what she did next.

As the man's blade descended upon her, she dodged sideways, lodging one of her piercers into his side, leaving it there. The man roared as he stumbled, and before he could attack again, Sorális used her now free hand to slash at him, cutting into the blood realm as she summoned bloodflame into his very flesh.

A moment later, the volatile lines of flame exploded, draining him completely of blood. The soldier fell to his knees with a lifeless grunt, then collapsed completely.

Footsteps sounded as Yura walked closer to Sorális. "Those must've been the ones who got in ahead of us.. Since they were alive in here, I'm going to assume they're the only ones." The hunter stated, swishing the blood away from his katana in a swift move and sheathing it.

"I wouldn't say that just yet.. maybe there's more to this than meets the eye.. yet again." The girl responded, letting out a sigh.

Neither of them managed to say anything else. The catacomb whirred and moved again. This time it was to a way greater extent than last time. Everything rumbled. Dust descended upon them from the ceiling, all while the pale flames raged as a very visible essence retreated from the dead soldiers and fed them.

"...I think this is what happened earlier.." Sorális commented.

It must've been instinctively, but they both stood extremely still. Be it to avoid any incoming danger or to make sure they weren't caught in a sudden trap neither of them knew. They just waited, keeping their eyes in opposite directions.

The room as they could see it hadn't changed yet, at least so it seemed. Odd. The rumbling had stopped.

A change would come, they both knew it, but it was silent, near unnoticeable, but it didn't escape Yura's perception. The hunter sensed a wisp of flame moving from one of the torches.

The wisp split into many smaller ones, momentarily illuminating a larger area. Sorális saw it too. "Best stay away from these.." she muttered, but didn't make a move to explore. She wanted to make sure it was truly over.

The wisps moved around silently, searching for.. something. Then, with no warning, they disappeared. Yura tensed, his blade was already drawn again. Sorális was ready to use her bloodflame, sparks of it flying around her right hand.

It wasn't a trap, not in the traditional sense. It was something else. The wisps didn't disappear, they just split themselves further. She saw them as they made them move... The bodies of the dead.

Skeletons and decaying corpses twitched and jolted to life, assembling themselves by the will of the flame that lit their eyes.

"How do we... Fight them?" Sorális murmured as she took a step back. The skeletons were clearly coming together into humanoid forms, weapons of old still clutched in their hands.

"I think the answer is... We don't." Yura responded quietly. He kept his eyes on the other side of the room. Some bodies had risen, making their way to them. Yura assumed Sorális was covering the other side, until he heard her struggling to breathe.

He'd already readied an attack before turning, so he landed it on the skeleton that was choking the girl without hesitation. The blade went through the undead's skull diagonally, severing the back of it's head. The skeleton collapsed into a pile of bones.

Sorális' chest heaved as she breathed heavily. "It caught me off guard.." She explained, steadying herself. "I doubt piercing into them will do much.. I'll have to improvise"

A skeleton leaped toward Yura. Without hesitation, the hunter slashed sideways, severing the head and causing it to collapse. The rest continued on their endless march, unaffected by the fact that their brethren were falling. "That seems to work..." She exclaimed as she glanced at the fallen skeleton, though the one Yura sliced through was reassembling itself. "Or not." Yura finished her sentence. "I'm out of tricks." He conceded, keeping his blade up high, deflecting the blows of a sword-bearing skeleton. "I might have an idea-" Sorális said suddenly. She brought her hands to the cut open skull of the reassembling skeleton and poured her bloodflame into it.

This was how her bloodflame talons worked.

When the accursed blood finds itself under a lot of pressure, it explodes due to its volatile nature.

Now, Sorális held her hands on either side of the skull, filling it to the brim with her flame. The skull glowed a bright orange that grew brighter and brighter and brighter until it reached the tipping point. Everything went quiet but for a moment, as if the very world itself was expecting what came next.

The resounding explosion of condensed bloodflame made the skull disintegrate, releasing the wisp within it and filling the room with a bright light. "Now-.. I'll just do this a dozen times." She said to Yura, a grin on her face. The hunter grimaced as he spoke. "Sure- but hurry- they'll overwhelm us."

As the wisp was freed, something shifted again. Their eyes darted to the change. It was a wall, it was lowering itself, revealing another passage. However, it only moved a little bit. "That's probably our way out" Yura noted as he reposted the blade-wielding skeleton, bringing him off balance with a kick to the knee, and pulling him by the skull so that Sorális could get a hold of him. "Catch" he exclaimed.

Sorális only touched the skull lightly this time, overloading it with her flame and blowing it up instantly. The wall moved. "Just a few more-" She exclaimed, trying to think of a way to touch every single one of the skeletons that were approaching.

Try as they might, they were being overrun. Yura slashed with his sword every chance he got, but the undead weren't slowing down, walking through and over each other to get to them.

As the girl brought her hands to another skull, the skeleton nearest to her moved awkwardly, the pale flames in its empty eye sockets raging as it dashed forward and sank its teeth into her forearm.

Sorális cried out, gritting her teeth. She pushed against it to free herself for a moment, but switched to using her bloodflame again.

With a palm on the undead's skull, some fingers in its eye socket, she released more bloodflame, building up that iridescent color until it faded away into dust.

"We're being overrun by them!" Yura spoke loudly as he threw a fist, doing nothing to stop the undead swarming him. "Tell me something I don't know!" She responded, looking around frantically, glancing in between him, the enemies, and the exit. The wall receded more since Sorális released another wisp. She was certain she could fit, but she wasn't so sure about Yura.

"Yura I want you to break off and come to me as soon as you get an opportunity" She explained as she stood further back, the exit to-be right behind her. "How do you reckon I'll get one of those?" Yura cried out, flailing against an onslaught of bones.

The living dead gnawed against his newly made armor pieces. Decaying teeth scraped on his shoulderguards, bare fingers clawed at his kasa. Thankfully, the skeletons were weak, but it was a battle against time. If he couldn't stop them, he would eventually just run out of energy.

How would they get an opportunity indeed? A few more of those things had to be destroyed for them to even be able to leave. They were so weak that they weren't a real danger to Yura, except if they tired him out.

The only real way to defeat them was with her bloodflame. Or with something that could destroy them like it did, but slashing and thrusting weapons didn't seem to work well. Every single undead Yura slashed at or decapitated simply got back up.

The piercers were a worse match for them than even Yura's Nagakiba. The dead had no vital spots to aim for. No heart to drain, no brain to pierce.

A mace or hammer could work, but none of the two used such weapons.

All that was left was to further rely on her bloodflame.

It became less and less of a decision as time moved forward, and the enemies gained more ground. There must've been a dozen of them, with six already on Yura and another six approaching.

She didn't need to defeat all of them in order to escape. Just enough for Yura to be able to break off, and for the wall to lower itself enough for them to be able to fit through it.

It was settled. She was doing it. A single piercer came forth through her arm. "Whatever you're doing, do it quick!" Yura exclaimed as teeth bit down on his forearm. The hunter grunted in pain but he didn't lose ground nor did he falter. He simply kept on pushing back against them, his nagakiba now more of a barrier between him and death than it was a blade.

Sorális kept dead calm as she took step after step toward him, keeping the piercer low by her side.

Once more she was forced to use it, but somehow it was different this time. Was she getting desensitized to the fact that she was conceding herself to it, or was it simply a part of her she was struggling to accept?

Was tapping into it's power that bad after all? Was borrowing her past self's power taking her back? Was it really turning her into someone else?

She wasn't so sure she cared anymore. There were times when its use was necessary, and this was one of them. That time when she had to pour the flame within Yura to heal him was like this as well.

Sorális switched her grip on the piercer, stabbing down against one of the skeletons. The weapon lodged itself in the skull, and with a twist of it, the flames raged, consuming and destroying until nothing of the skeleton was left.

Her mind was empty, or rather without guilt. She found herself asking a question.

*What should I be feeling?*

Should she feel guilty? Should she fear herself or her potential. Was being a killer all she was? Hell, she was on a mission to kill someone, even now.

Undead after undead became ashes until she'd destroyed four of them.

Yura, tired from fighting them off, struggled against the other two, still trying to keep them back.

Sorális simply thrust her piercer forward, reaching through both skulls at once.

Since the exit was open enough to allow them to escape, she didn't release her flames on these skeletons. Instead, she kicked them back, leaving the piercer in them, holding them together. "Come on!" She said as she put Yura's arm over her shoulder, leasing him to the exit.

"You first" She commanded as they reached it, helping him up by giving him a step with her hands.

As soon as Yura had escaped, Sorális made a jump, reaching the next room with ease.

As if to reward their resourcefulness, the wall moved into place behind them, trapping the enemies on the other side.

Yura sat down as soon as Sorális made it to him. He was taking note of his injuries. "Are you alright?" She asked quietly as she knelt beside him. "Well I'm not dead." He responded, adjusting his bracer.

The catacomb worked and warped once more. Something moved further in the room. "Oh, now what?" Yura asked in frustration.

An open door lay ahead, statues of skeletal figures holding lanterns on each side of it.

“This is the last time I’m ever walking into one of these cesspools.” Yura murmured as he tightened a piece of cloth around the wound on his forearm. His eyes darted to the door. "It seems like someone's expecting us." He continued.

"There was a door just like this in the other catacomb I've been in. Following this exact design, but the door was already open."

The girl explained. Yura tilted his head. "Wasn't this door also open?" He asked her as he tightened his bracer again. "No. It only budged as soon as we got through that last room. I saw it open." Soralis responded calmly.

The sound of a muffled explosion reached their ears. It must've been her piercer in those skeletons. The dungeon whirred again, but there was no apparent change. "Let's move. Who knows for how long it'll stay like this," Soralis said as she recalled her piercer, making it dematerialize like a dying spark.

Yura followed as the girl took the lead, preferring not to speak in order to focus on his surroundings. This place felt alive in an odd way, though the hunter knew it wasn't. He definitely wasn't well-versed in things like that, but he recognized it to be some sort of magical mechanism. An automated system that responded to, and worked around magic. This one though.. It used the essence of living beings to operate.

As they walked past the door, a shiver ran down Yura's spine. The statues felt like a warning. A warning of what this place would do to them.

Why a catacomb would be made this way was beyond him though. Sometimes people liked to flaunt their knowledge and power.

After assessing the situation and sensing nothing, Yura spoke. "We may be trapped."

The girl glanced back at him, her gaze portraying a deep understanding of what he just said. "I know." She responded, turning back.
They were now walking through a long corridor, though it wasn't like last time. The fire on the torches here was normal, unlike the pale one they encountered earlier. "This part of the catacomb must be static. I don't see or sense any of that ghostly fire." Soralis explained. Indeed, if any flame like that was near, Yura wasn't able to feel it.

"Maybe we're getting closer to something." The hunter suggested. He sure hoped that was the case, but instead of going up, the corridor was leading them down. A flight of stairs lay ahead of them. He couldn't see an end to them yet. "Wonderful.." He murmured.

"If we've learned anything through this little trip.. Its that whoever made this doesn't only use conventional means for anything... Down could mean up... Or eventually lead to it" Soralis spoke as she eagerly walked down the stairs. Instead of walking, she hurried down, skipping a few steps. The end was in sight.

"You may be right.. And at this point it feels like it doesn't matter where we choose to go. This place will take us where it wants to."
By the end of the stairs the entrance to another room was in sight. There was no door, there were no torches. Just a pitch black darkness and the occasional glint of the pale flowers; The ones Yura and Soralis were searching for.

Soralis walked forward at a quick pace. Before she could take a step through the entrance, Yura's hand gripped her shoulderguard. "Wait. What if its a trap? What if someone's in there?"

Sorális stilled, but she didn't consider what Yura said for long. "Do you see any other path?" She asked him calmly. "No." The hunter replied. "But we should still be careful. If we are to enter the room, we should be aware of any present dangers, and ready to face anything that might come our way."

The girl couldn't disagree with that. She nodded slowly, then brought both her piercers forward.

It brought her no joy, dealing in death. It was simply a necessity. She knew it in her bones that it was a necessity way back in her repressed memories, and it was certainly a necessity now. Some things just could not be solved peacefully. Not without losing a great deal of things.

She slowly made her way toward the beckoning doorway, her piercers eerily glowing in the dark with their iridescent crimson, looking as if they were responding to the glow of the pale flowers.

Another step and she was in the room, stepping on soft soil. Were these flowers placed here deliberately? It looked like a garden meant to cultivate them, but who would want so many, and why?

"A garden... Or... A farm.." Yura spoke. His voice echoing through the room. It was a small space, not larger than twenty paces in length and perhaps eight paces in width. Flowers grew on either side of a long pathway, and as far as the pair could tell, it was completely empty. "Might as well grab some flowers now. We'll worry about getting out of here later." Sorális suggested as she knelt, setting down a leather satchel she brought with it. Showing great care not to tear any petals, she picked the flowers from the stem, and placed them in the satchel carefully, all in a bit bouquet. Perhaps she'd picked more than they'd ever need, but as always she'd rather be safe than sorry.

Yura remained still, focusing on his surroundings. Nothing but Sorális working on the flowers reached his ears. This was troubling. If this room was a dead end there was no clear path. Not one he saw on the way here at least. He waited even though Sorális was finished, having packed everything into the satchel. The girl noticed and stood by him. Their only objective was to escape after all.

Still, his senses alerted him to nothing. He was about to give up on this. Contrary to the fluid movement of the leaves and branches in a forest, this catacomb was sturdy, unmoving and dead.

Completely dead as was he, and her, and everything else within this place.

*What?* Yura said- no, he asked himself within his mind. He couldn't move at all. He sensed danger surging toward him from every single direction yet couldn't move a muscle. Only his eyes.

Sorális hadn't yet noticed anything. She wasn't moving either.

The first thing he really sensed was the stench that hit his nostrils. The smell of a corpse, of many corpses. The scent of death.

 

Before he could do anything else it appeared directly in front of him. A large cracked beak, hollow eyes lit up only by a very distinct paleness deep within.

The hunter wanted to- no, he would have screamed if he could, but his body was not responding to him.

The hulking creature in front of him moved slowly, deliberately. It's abnormally long neck swaying behind it's head as if completely disconnected from it.

A body disproportionate to the neck stood on the soil among the flowers, holding an ornate iron stake. It looked humanoid enough, save for the claws on its fingers and the hell that stretched on from its neck.

*What... Are you...* He wanted to say.

*The one... True... Death...* The being responded with a soft, breathless whisper. Its gaping maw ripped apart further and further, until with a sudden movement Yura was no more. He felt himself fade instantaneously, gone into death's stomach.

*

"The One... True... Death..." The creature spoke. Sorális kept her eyes on it, staring into the hollow pits on its skull.

Yura had disappeared from behind her. Perhaps it got him first- but she needn't think about that. Only that she was alone, and that she had to kill this thing as quickly as possible.

"Do you not fear?... It's a killer... It analyzes... It plots... Of where best to strike..." It spoke with many voices. Just the first came from it's bird-like head. The others came from behind it. Echoes.

It neared, tilting it's bird skull. A terrible dark ooze escaped from it's mouth, reeking of decay and rot.

"It is a killer..." The beast repeated, the single dots of pale light in its eyes slowly enlarging and becoming flares of pale flames. "...Yet it does not regret .." another voice continued.

Sorális took a step back, but the entity moved its neck closer, keeping it's head exactly at arm's length.

"We..."

"Cannot..."

"Feast on it..."

"Yet..."

It stilled, and it was as if the whole world froze as it opened it's mouth. She saw a hand within, getting lost in that rotted esophagus. She knew it was Yura's. She even saw his new bracer on it. All she could do was hope he still lived.

She would have reached out to grab him, save him, but she didn't make it in time. The entity opened its gaping maw further, staying as such for a moment before emitting a terrible screech.

The pain Sorális felt in her ears was indescribable. The girl fell to her knees immediately, holding her palms against her ears as the creature screamed on and on. Her consciousness was fading, and it felt as if her life would leave with it.

By the time it's mouth was closed, Sorális could barely move.

The entity simply looked on, prowling around her. Dragging that iron pole against the ground. The girl could only feel the vibration. No sound reached her. Not anymore. Just that incessant ringing.

She tried to calm her mind, to ease her breathing, but it was like trying to push against a mountain. Her heart was raging, her whole body was already in overdrive.

She struggled to stand up, but she did, holding her piercers weakly.

"It has not given up..."

"It is weakened.."

The creature spoke, though she only heard it in her mind as meaning and not as words.

She gritted her teeth. It was taunting her.

With a sharp breath, she stood with her chest high, her weapons now properly angled. Her vision was getting blurry but she wouldn't give in.

*Come at me.* She thought to herself. *What kind of death are you? I'm still standing aren't I?*

The creature simply chuckled in response. It was a demeaning rasp, one of many voices, but one.

The girl's eyes sharpened. She dashed toward it despite not having a grasp of it's speed yet. She turned her piercer sideways with a flick, and then slashed across its neck, drawing out that black ooze.

The creature shrieked again as it's laughter was interrupted. This time, instead of just shrieking, it slammed the iron stake on the ground, aiming for Sorális, but she had already pivoted out of the way.

"How dares it. How dares it?!"

The creature cried out, now moving using it's lower body which was hunched over like a gargoyle.

Sorális dodged over a sideways strike by flipping over it. Without much time to think, she aimed for where the heart would be, and ignited her piercer, sending bloodflame surging into it.

The girl shut her eyes tight as the entity screeched again. She still felt it despite being unable to hear it. She wondered if it would've stripped her sense of self away were she able to.

Despite the flames encroaching it, the beast stood completely still.

"It will die now. It will be powerless."

It spoke near silently.

Sorális pulled her piercer back to no avail. It had grasped onto her arm.

Angling it's head sideways it struck, that awful bird-like beak clamping down onto her arm and tearing it away, severing tendons, bones and flesh.

Sorális must've been screaming. She didn't really know if she was. All she could feel was an immense pressure in her chest, a beating pulse in her head, and the completely alien sensation of the absence of her hand.

The entity swallowed, looked at her deliberately, and tucked out wings Sorális didn't know it had.
It spread them open wide, as if it was displaying them to her. All along them lay ghostly spears alight with flames. Each spear was held by the visage of a soldier, all mumbling erratically. Those were the voices that spoke alongside it.

“It fears." The spirit soldiers spoke in unison. Sorális' shoulder was bleeding profusely. The lack of a whole arm will do that to you. She brought a hand to it, breathing shakily.

"It is desperate" The spirits spoke again as the creature strutted around her arrogantly.

She stared daggers into it coldly. She didn't know what or why it was, why it existed, but she knew it was as rotten as it smelt, as it looked.

This was it. She had reached a turning point. It was either go all out, or die.

Her blood boiled as she called upon more flame, forcing it to surge from her palm and into the wound left behind by her missing arm. The wound was cauterized in mere seconds as the flame sizzled over it.

"Its defeat is imminent..." The voices spoke once more as the creature neared. It's bird-like skull seemed to be no skull at all after all. It had a weird malleability to it, since the wretched creature grinned at her, delighted with the words of it's captured spirits, no doubt forced to relay its thoughts.

"I wondered who they were really talking about all this time.." Sorális muttered, evoking an unsettling stillness in the creature. "I never once felt fear, or desperation." She continued as she manifested her piercer in her right hand.

"And that must mean that... They're talking about you... YOUR defeat is imminent..."

The creature stared her with it's dead, cold eyes. Those pale dots of white fire shrinking into fine points. It screamed and lashed violently, slamming its iron rod around the room, shaking the whole catacomb.

Its wings extended further, and the soldiers within them readied themselves, holding their spears over their shoulders. Then, after a moment of stillness, they all fired.

Sorális dashed through the room, sending all of her strength to her legs. Spectral spears flew at her from nearly every direction, but she moved with an unimaginable agility.

She turned and hid behind a pillar just before the first spears could reach her. Another dash, this time toward the creature. Another wave of spears. Bringing her piercer up she deflected them. One, two, then a wave of bloodflame.

The crimson fire engulfed the incoming spears, exploding after a moment and blowing them away completely. The creature was in range, it's vision obstructed by the explosion, this was her chance.

The girl ducked below the explosion and pushed off of the brick pathway with her legs. Upon reaching the creature's greyish rotted body, she shoved her piercer into it, evoking a terrible mind numbing screech.

Despite it pulling back she wasn't done with it yet. She left her piercer in and gripped at its rotting skin with her fingers. Her flame surged through her blood, through her hand as it manifested into talons, tearing away at the creature.

It pushed her away but only sealed it's fate as she used the momentum to rip it apart, clawing it open in a spectacle of crimson and orange fire.

The creature crawled away as it's insides leaked out. Dead bodies, parts and weapons among guts.

It was so frantic that it dropped its iron stake, leaving it on the paved path. Sorális stepped on it, ignoring it's existence.

"The one true death? Don't make me laugh you sorry creature. You couldn't even kill one person. It felt like you weren't even trying."

She continued to approach, and it continued to scurry away until it reached a wall.

Sorális stood in front of it and chanted, her hand placed on her cauterized wound. She said the words to a chant slowly, deliberately, all while staring the beast down.

"What... What are you doing?" The beast's whispers sounded more like powerless rasps now. The final breaths of a dying animal.

"Oh... It appears I'm no longer 'it'." She didn't explain herself to it. As she finished her chant, new fibers of muscle sprouted from her wound. Connecting to each other as bones formed and cracked into place as well. She was making a new arm.

The creature was livid. It's hollow eye sockets devoid of light, but it still moved, looking around the room for something, anything.

"No.. no. There's no saving yourself now. You dug your own grave when you attacked my friend."

Sorális gathered bloodflame in her left hand, the one she'd just created for herself. The newly made muscle was more powerful than before, and was aching to be used.

She placed her hand on the creature's disgusting head and stared it down. "I won't ask you for any last words... I don't care." The beast's eyes widened. It would try to reason, it had to, or it would be killed. It raised an arm in order to speak to her, but to no avail. Sorális effortlessly closed her fist shut, crushing its skull and spraying it's brain along the brick floor.

"What kind of death can be killed..." She muttered to herself, chuckling.

As soon as the beast was killed, a maelstrom of souls was released from it's corpse. Spirits, faces, people. They all danced around Sorális for a few moments before reading away, as if to thank her.

She wondered only for a moment what it would have felt like to be part of something so hideous.. something so terrible. It didn't matter, for that wasn't and wouldn't be her. She only hoped Yura didn't share the same fate.

The body moved, and so the girl manifested her piercer again, ready to strike it down as many times as necessary. This wretched abomination did not have the right to live.

It's belly writhed awkwardly, then came something like coughing, and finally... Yura. He stumbled out of blood and guts and gore just as he was before... With the exception of the fact that Sorális wouldn't let him anywhere close to her for a while.

"I'm really glad you're alive, but for your sake and mine, you're bathing before you get within arm's reach of me."

Yura looked up at her in no mood to laugh. "Whatever..." He muttered. "But thanks for that."

Chapter Text

Chapter 19: Life

Very few misbegotten had remained in Castle Morne. The few Lord Morne and Raphael encountered on their path to the towers were apprehended and chained at Raphael's request. When he asked the Lord why he complied, he responded with a single word: Respect.

Why he respected him was beyond him, but so be it. He couldn't complain.

Edgar had assembled a small group of soldiers to join them for the mission, every single one personally trained by the Lord since they were kids.

This was very personal compared to how the military worked in Leyndell, but it worked well, especially in smaller groups. Raphael could see why Edgar had garnered such respect from his people. To them he wasn't just a Lord. He wasn't just an authority figure. He was one of them. He was so loved that the people couldn't wait to leave their homes and come into the castle to help with the cleanup. Edgar couldn't convince the mob to leave, so he allowed them to help out in the main courtyard, where every threat had been wiped out.

Such love and dedication wasn't the case where Raphael was from. Unwavering loyalty hadn't been earned, no. It had been hammered into every single knight and soldier during their training.

It was different for Raphael. So very different. He was picked out by King Morgott at a young age. The story he knew was that his father was a loyal knight who died in battle, and that his mother abandoned him. The king, whose palace was quite empty at the time took him on.

Of course, Raphael rarely saw him, but he was still a father to him. The only father he knew. A father he respected. A father he loved.

He knew that love was mutual, even though it's nature was something he often struggled to define. It was out of this love he assumed, that King Morgott had him trained within the palace and not with the rest of the young boys.

Becoming a knight this way didn't do him any favors. He was an outcast among his peers. It was often that he was sneered at and called unworthy of his station. He was always the orphan the king took pity on, or as his training partners liked to call him, the "butter knight". That name was granted to him simply because he folded in pain when he was ganged up on and beaten.

Of course the King never heard of this. He never told him. No good would come from it anyway.

"Raphael. You've got your head in the clouds, huh?"

Edgar Morne spoke. Raphael blinked slowly before turning to him and giving him a slight smile.

"You could say that-.." He responded, reaching a hand to the back of his head.

"I'll need you here with me. This isn't a foe we can be careless with." Edgar continued.

Indeed. They were on the way to combat. Raphael had forgotten all about it.

"What's got you thinking?" Lord Morne asked again as they walked down a spiral staircase.

"Just thinking of home." Raphael responded quietly. A home so different to this land. A home he could leave behind quite easily. Nothing kept him there. Nothing but obligation, and the only memories he had of that place were filled with guilt, anger and regret.

"Is your home a nice place?" Edgar inquired, leading the group forward through a dark hallway. This part of the castle tangled and met up in various points.

"It's stunning... It's a mountainous area where the grass is a beautiful dull gold... The sky shimmers with an ever-present brightness, and at night?... Oh.. no night is truly dark... The Erdtree shines upon the land, wisps of it's rays of gold guiding us through the night... So... Its... Nice."

Edgar waited for a moment. Studying the knight quietly before continuing after a grunt. "Hm.. my home is here. It's nothing great, really. We have to fish in this wild sea for food. The land here gives us nothing, and this godforsaken wind never stops blowing." The man smiled before continuing. "But it's where I grew up. It's where I raised my daughter... Where my family is... And where my grandchildren will live after me. It's been my home ever since I was born."

"Don't listen to him. He can't complain because the land is good enough to give him that one vineyard. If it gives Lord Morne wine, then it's good!" One of the soldiers spoke up. The rest broke into laughter, prompting Morne to chuckle as he kept his eyes on Raphael.

"Home is where you feel it is. Not just where you were born, or where you lived." Edgar gave Raphael a pat on the shoulder. "I think you'll find yours soon."

Raphael said nothing. They continued to walk.

The knight squinted his eyes as they walked down a flight of stairs and through an open gate. Not much of the original building remained here. Fine powdered sand lay at their feet, connecting the gate to a small island. Another ruined gate stood at the other side of the sand walkway, half-toppled.

"This is it, isn't it?" Raphael asked.

Edgar nodded. "My ancestors' resting place... And where the Leonine fled to."

The group walked through the sand path carefully. A deep sea awaited them on either side of it, ready to drag them to its darkest corners. The sea around here was many things. Forgiving wasn't one of them.

They weren't really in any danger of falling. Not unless they thought about it too much.

A silence hung between them all. Raphael didn't mind. He couldn't find something to say. All he was currently thinking about was how he would actually capture a leonine misbegotten.

These creatures were true powerhouses, able to wield greatswords with ease. Having to take him down and keep him alive would certainly be more difficult than outright killing him but... He was no longer a knight of Leyndell.

A soldier spoke up, and they all gathered on the other side of the tree, around another mass of graves. Edgar Morne walked toward them slowly with Raphael following close by.

There was no real urgency. Yes, the Leonine was there, bit it was nothing like the one he'd seen before.

This one was sitting on its knees, it's hands clasped together in silent prayer. It's red mane swayed in the wind as it stood there, seemingly unaware of, or unbothered by the soldiers around it.

"Is it... Praying?" One of the soldiers spoke up.

The Leonine reacted instantly, it's eyes opening and glancing toward the sound. Instead of attacking however, it stood still, glancing between them, studying them.

"Stand back." Lord Morne commanded. His soldiers obeyed, moving back a few paces, but still keeping their swords at the ready.

Morne brought forth a pair of shackles, and presented them to the Leonine. Raphael assumed he did that in hope that the beast would choose to surrender.

The beast gave the lord a solemn look, but it's amber eyes were ablaze with determination.

Finally, the Leonine moved from it's praying position, reaching for a blade nestled on a stone bench in front of him.

Well- it would be wrong to call it a blade. It could be called a weapon for sure, but it was more of an amalgamation of multiple smaller blades, all fused into a large hunk of metal. Sword upon sword jutted out from the weapon's middle part. At the base of it only one hilt, simply made.

"The grafted blade.." Lord Morne spoke quietly. His otherwise serious gaze changed within a few moments. "That Godrick... He never intended for them to work for me.."

Edgar's eyes sharpened as he barked out a command. "Soldiers! Be ready! We fight for our honor as house Morne!"

His soldiers cried out in unison, slamming their weapons against their shields once.

The Leonine responded to this with wary looks at each of them. He dragged the grafted blade on the ground as he turned around, taking in his enemies. The beast breathed in, and for a moment Raphael thought it might pause, that it might even speak, but no. The Leonine misbegotten let out a roar so loud he wouldn't be surprised if it caused him to move.

The chimera didn't waste a moment. It was surrounded, already desperate. It effortlessly leaped off of the ground, rising high before slamming the grafted blade onto one of the soldiers. With the blade's size, it didn't matter that the man raised his shield, he was simply crushed under it, incapacitated.

The five remaining soldiers moved closer slowly, their shields raised, Raphael moving with them.

The Leonine swung sideways at one of them, but his attack was blocked, knocking the soldier that took it back. Before the beast could attack again, another soldier rushed in and struck it in the back with a mace.

The counterattack followed immediately after the hit, but another soldier blocked, and again, the beast was struck in its back.

Raphael knew how many training drills and real fights were necessary for them to fight like this. He almost felt like he should stand by and watch in order not to interrupt their flow, but he had to join in despite that. He had to keep them alive and take the beast prisoner.

He wasn't sure he was in control of his own body when his legs pushed him forward. The Leonine took note of him and slashed at him with razor sharp claws. Raphael brought his sword in front of him, bone clashing with hardened steel. The Leonine took another hit as a soldier stepped in quickly and slashed at its back.

Raphael hadn't realized it before, but he just did. The beast was holding back, and it had finally run out of patience.

It swung it's sword at the soldier who struck it with a loud bellowing roar. The young man managed to block with his shield, but he was sent flying.

The Leonine was immediately on Raphael. The knight barely had any time to react as the beast charged forward, dragging it's blade into a sideways strike. He brought his blade up to deflect but it shattered immediately, passing through his defenses and landing on his upper chest.

Raphael crumbled backwards like a little girl's doll and tumbled into the tree. The fight hadn't even started yet and everything hurt already.

Coughing up blood he threw his hilt to the side, seeing no use for it.

The Leonine was attacking the four remaining soldiers. They fought valiantly, but every strike that landed on their shields was a great risk.

He saw it as he struggled to get up, following their normal strategy, the soldiers blocked so someone else could deliver a strike, but this time it was different. The beast was enraged.

As the grafted blade landed on the soldier's brass shield it didn't simply push him back. The force behind the attack was so large that it didn't even manage to be dispersed before it twisted the soldier's shield hand backwards with a resounding crack. The man yelled his lungs out as he stumbled backwards, unable to even drop the malformed hunk of metal the shield had turned into.

Seeing this, Edgar rushed in ahead of Raphael, holding his halberd down low, moving with an impressive agility, as if the wind was tailing him.

The Leonine noticed the lord coming up behind him, so it slashed at a soldier with it's claws, tearing through his armor, and turned around in an instant, bringing his blade down sideways.

Lord Morne brought his halberd up and clashed with the beast. Raphael expected the halberd to break immediately, but nothing of that sort happened.

A strong surge of wind blew over the island as the weapons clashed. Edgar struggled as the Leonine roared, forcing its blade down with it's overwhelming strength.

Edgar was losing, that was plain to see, but the wind did not stop blowing even as the Lord was being forced deeper into the sand because of all the force.

Straining, Edgar groaned, keeping both hands on his halberd and holding his ground.

"Raphael- Men! Don't just stand around me like fish out of water. If we're gonna kill this thing it'll take all of us!"

Four of the soldiers were still able to fight, but even the one whose arm was broken joined in, still clasping his shield weakly. He stabbed at the misbegotten with a spear, another brought a mace down onto it's side. The other soldiers neared as well, roaring with pride as they followed their Lord's command, but the Leonine was no mindless beast to allow itself to be killed like this.

With a sudden twist, it slammed its tail into Lord Morne, making him stumble backwards, then, it completed the turn, striking all of the soldiers, sending some out of commission.

Lord Morne was still gathering his bearings, but the Leonine gave him no time. It dashed forward, using it's free arm like a third leg, running in an animalistic fashion. It raised the giant weapon with ease, and brought it down on him with tremendous force.

Raphael still hadn't moved, he wanted to, he had to, or Edgar would be killed by this strike. The blade was approaching his uncovered head. Raphael had doomed them with his own ideals. He wished it could be him who had to die, no- he wished they never had to fight in the first place. Life was precious, wasn't it?

With that thought, the world around him slowed as something within him erupted.

Time was flowing, yet the Leonine wasn't much closer to killing Edgar. Things moved, but at an impossible slow rate. Raphael glanced around. The world was stunningly beautiful. Life was everywhere, filling him with hope as a dull-gold sunset-like glow emanated from everything. The fish in the sea, the insects on the tree and grass, the birds flying high above in the sky.

Everything. Every single living being brought forth that golden light, none different from another. Himself, the soldiers, Edgar, the Leonine too. What made them so different then, if deep down they were all the same?

Something within him was born, and something else broke completely. He wasn't sure if it was his ties to Leyndell, him breaking off from the ideology his old home holds, or everything all at once. There was only one thing he was certain about:

All life was precious, and to kill for anything other than survival, to differentiate, to cast out, to induce suffering, is as wrong as to affront any god.

As he accepted this, the world reacted to his presence. Life was made aware of him as he was made aware of it. Somehow, either out of the bounds of time, or at an unnatural speed, the tree's roots moved to him, climbing up his legs and twisting around him

He expected himself to be amazed, to feel something other than a very deep sense of understanding, but he couldn't. He simply looked on as a plant, something he'd assumed had no will or thoughts for his whole life, crawled up toward him in real time, meaningfully and with purpose. He even heard it's singular thought through all this.

*Protect*

Was all it said to him in his mind. Did it know him? Did it have a reason to think so? He wondered about these things, but he was beyond caring about them in that moment.

The tree's roots hardened around him, sturdier and lighter than any armor he'd ever worn before, though he wasn't sure if it really was lighter or if his very physiology had changed as well, in that very instant, that slowed down piece of time.

The armor had crawled all over him and solidified into plates. They were seemingly engraved with the shapes of spreading roots all over, as if the tree wanted it to be known that IT had made this armor for him.

The roots stopped moving as the armor was complete. They buried themselves underground again.

Something spoke into his mind again.

*Protect.*

The world, everything, life, spoke to him.

*Protect*

He understood in meaning instead of words as he was urged forward, toward the near frozen Leonine and Lord Morne. He wasn't being urged to save one of them, but both. Hell, not just THEM. Everything.

He complied to the will of life. Not only did he agree, but he felt it with every fiber of his being. He willed it too, and so life gifted back to him.

In a wave of gold, spectral feathers burst forth from his back, coming together to form a gleaming pair of wings, spread out in all the glory of everything breathing, swimming, or crawling. In all the glory of life.

As he moved forward within a blink, the living wood of his armor moved to his sword hand, roots entwining and forming into a large blade, the size of a greatsword. They fused together with the radiant power of life, becoming indistinguishable from a normal sword, save for the reddish brown color and the peculiar root-like carvings all along it.

By the time the world moved again, Raphael was already in between Edgar and the Leonine. The giant weapon clashed with his newly formed blade not a moment later.

The knight's body was leaning back due to the force applied on him by the beast- though he would no longer call it that.

The Leonine hadn't changed at all within that moment, yet Raphael had. He forced the misbegotten back with his blade, pushing its weapon to the side.

Instead of slashing at it however, he thrust his fist forward, connecting the strike to his chin- and to his surprise making the Leonine stumble, its weapon falling to the ground and sending up a wave of sand.

Raphael didn't let up. Another punch was already on its way as the Leonine gathered it's bearings, whirling toward the knight and raising a clawed hand.

The misbegotten caught his fist, it's mane waving back as the impact caused by their clash sent a wave of air outward.

It's gaze was Intense, it's spirit fierce and unbroken no matter the odds, despite the fact that it was up against one chosen by life itself.

Clawed hands slashed at the knight, grazing against his living armor. Raphael hoped it'd be over by now, but the Leonine would gladly fight to the death. If it had a purpose beyond carnage, Raphael did not yet know, nor did the Leonine have any intent of telling him. Any and all thoughts within its essence were lost to him. All he could gather from it was a primal rage, a rage quite weirdly not directed at him, or the soldiers. He would have expected it to be directed at Lord Morne, but he too, played no part in the being's torment.

Distracted by these emotions, Raphael was picked up and thrown into the ground with immense force. The little island shook, keeping Edgar and his soldiers down.

The knight struggled against the Leonine, gripping onto it's forearms to keep it from choking him.

He could retaliate, he could hurt it, but he truly didn't want to. No one was truly in any danger here other than himself, but could he really just keep on taking hits until the Leonine decided to stop? A look into its eyes told him that it wouldn't stop. Not until it died.

Or.. until it killed him, and the others.

It's clawed hands tightened around Raphael's neck so much that it was impossible to breathe. In mere seconds, he felt the absence of blood to his brain. No- if he didn't fight back here he would die in less than a minute.

"Wh-..." He rasped. The Leonine roared at him, it's sharp inhuman teeth gritted. "What drives you so?..." Raphael managed, pulling it's hands away just enough to speak.

The Leonine raged.

Raphael was dragged along by his throat all the way to the tree. The misbegotten slammed him against it's trunk, winding him.

With no air surging into his lungs, the world nearly faded away for the knight, yet the Leonine still looked so bright.. So alive- that golden glow, that essence of life so clearly emanating from it.

He couldn't communicate with common words, not in this case. He didn't even know if they had a language of their own other than grunts and growls.

Raphael raised a hand toward the Leonine, setting it on its shoulder.

The misbegotten didn't even glance at it. It simply pushed harder, slowly choking the life out of the knight.

The only way he could think of was speaking as life does in its most pure form, as life spoke to him when it called out. Meaning.

He kept his hand on the Leonine's shoulder despite the rage in its eyes, despite the hate it showed and the pain it inflicted.

He wasn't sure how he'd do it, but his life depended on it, for he wouldn't harm someone so wronged, someone who was cast out just for being different.

It was not his mind that communicated his intent, nor his soul. It was his very being.

He expressed it out for the world to see. His will. His mission. His purpose.

The golden essence of being seeped from the knight, manifesting in a warm, calming aura all around him. It took less than a second for the Leonine's eyes to gain understanding, and then regret.

*No one else has to be harmed... You don't have to fight anymore..*

Was his message. The misbegotten, had received it.

Slowly, gently, it set Raphael down and took a step back, glancing over at him solemnly. With no shared language between them, no words were spoken, but he knew an apology when he saw one.

The Leonine was on his knees, his head lowered in front of him.

"How.." Edgar Morne Inquired, his voice shaky. "What... Was that Raphael?" He asked as he approached, limping. It appeared as if clashing with the Leonine, even briefly, had injured his leg.

"Why did he stop fighting suddenly?... And where did all... This come from?" The Lord motioned to the knight's armor, which was slowly fading away, or rather, being absorbed by him.

Raphael stood still, his eyes on the ground. The revelation was taxing on his mind. "...I told him we didn't have to fight..." He explained, or rather tried to. He wasn't even sure if that was exactly what happened.

"And... The armor.. the wings.. I don't know, Edgar. I don't know myself." He raised his eyes to the Lord, who was staring at him in awe.

"My gods.." The Lord muttered. He didn't pester Raphael any longer. He simply moved toward the soldiers, using his halberd as a walking stick. "Whoever can stand, help take the others back to the castle." He commanded sternly.

Four of the soldiers could still walk. One had been crushed under his shield, and another had a broken arm and leg. "No one has died Lord Morne. Onar Is quite badly injured, but it seems like he'll recover. He's breathing, at the very least." One of the soldiers reported as he took the dented shield off of his crushed brother in arms.

*

Castle Morne, Eitan & Melina's Bedchamber

There was an unfamiliar yet soothing warmth in the air. Eitan half opened his eyes, being welcomed by the bright rays of the sun rushing in through the window.

A dull pain on his shoulder reminded him that the soreness of yesterday was nowhere near leaving. Aching, he groggily turned around, his eyes still half shut.

The one thought in the warrior's mind was that he needed more sleep, perhaps a day or two of rest and then he could march on again, wherever Melina wanted him to go. They'd gone on quite an adventure, but at least it wasn't pointless. They'd helped people. Many people. The misbegotten he felled must've held some runes on them, raw power. Melina would know if he could be empowered by them again.

He didn't manage to dwell on it for too long though as the warm embrace of sleep wrap around him.

He felt safe. Comforted, as if something heavier than his covers stretched over him. He would've left it at that if he didn't notice the rhythmic caress of someone's breath against his neck.

Any sleepiness he had went away in that moment. His eyes wide, he assessed the situation. It was Melina. Nestled close to him, her face buried between Eitan's pillow and neck.

The warrior had fought many battles, but this was definitely the toughest. He was wide awake, but didn't know quite what to do.

It was the first time Melina had done anything like this. Maybe she passed out on his bed, perhaps she was exhausted by the fight last night. There's no way she'd do this, right?

No. She always thought things through, she did, so why? He'd assumed shed simply stay in the spirit realm like she always did.

His heart was beating steadily, yet so hard that it felt like it would break out of his chest. He managed to bring a hand up and set it on her side, much like how she'd brought an arm around him.

He swallowed with a dry throat as his palm rested on her, feeling a silky smoothness on his fingers. Just the idea of that being her skin brought shivers down his spine.

With a downward glance he took note of her fiery red head of hair. Not running a hand over it was something that required constraint.

The maiden was wearing a black nightgown with white frills around her neck. The piece fit loosely around her neck and shoulders, showing a fair bit of cleavage.

Eitan immediately averted his eyes as the clothing threatened to reveal her breasts. In the end, he decided to move back, even if it meant disturbing her in her sleep.

He lifted himself with his arms as he pulled away from her, part of him immediately asking for that touch again.

Melina was definitely disturbed. She pulled her arm back and held it to her chest, but instead of moving away, she only stirred and moved closer, ever so slightly. In the end she settled, her head pressed up against Eitan's pillow, her lips just slightly parted.

No, no. He really didn't have it in him to survive this. A battle with his mind, heart, and body.

The maiden shifted once more, bringing her arms forward and stretching, accidentally grazing over Eitan's chest. As soon as she was done, she opened her eyes lazily, his face being the first thing she saw.

The warrior looked on blankly for a moment, unsure of what to feel, think or say. It didn't take long for him to sort that though, he had to be present, at least somehow, but all he could do was glance between her full lips and amber eyes.

He could have sworn Melina had a slight smirk on her face, but it didn't linger for long, so he couldn't be completely certain.

She let out a humming sigh as she stretched again, falling back into her pillow. She spoke to him in her soft and steady voice as she adjusted her nightgown around her chest, covering up, her eyes intently on Eitan's.

"Good morning..." She hummed to him, setting her head on her hand as she laid down sideways. "What's got you all... Rattled?" She asked him, knowingly.

Eitan hurried to find words to explain himself. "I- uhm... Nothing- really. I just woke up-" He tried to explain, quite miserably.

Melina raised a brow, rolling her eyes. "Huh... Then what would explain how flushed your face is... Are you alright?" She inquired, feigning worry as she brought a hand to his face, her thumb caressing over his cheek.

She was onto him wasn't she? Eitan took hold of her hand with his own before continuing. "You know well what caused this." He explained, his disposition shifting slightly, his tone serious.

The maiden pulled her hand back slowly, her fingers grazing over his palm. She spoke after humming low. "I hoped you'd stay this flustered for a while longer.. it was cute."

Eitan looked downward for a moment, avoiding her gaze, but Melina reached a hand to him again, angling his chin so he'd face her. "I came here on purpose."

She said sternly. The warrior looked up at her in confusion. "You've never even stayed with me at nighttime. I assumed you'd just go wherever you go.."

Melina chuckled to herself, her eyes losing that near predatory glint they had as she was toying with him. Growing more resigned. More vulnerable.
"I suppose I could have gone there.. but this just felt right, Eitan."

The warrior just gawked at her. Many times he'd thought of her that way, but not once had he decided to do anything about it. Now she was the one to take the first step? Why?

"Was it wrong?" She inquired, a hint of worry showing in her beautiful face..

Eitan shook his head as soon as she spoke. "No. Not at all." His hand moved by itself, making it's way to her side. Melina gave him a subtle smile at that.

"Then I'm glad I decided to do it..." She murmured as she moved closer. Slowly. Deliberately.

"What are you doing?" Eitan asked as she neared, as her heart-shaped lips parted.

"What feels right.." she hummed to him as she closed her eyes.

Perhaps Eitan would have stopped it had she seemed unsure, but that wasn't the case. It wasn't like before. She wasn't asleep. She was doing this... And so was he.

The warrior closed his eyes as well, and then his body awakened.

His heart thundered as their lips touched. Melina's tongue brushed against his own in a gentle dance. He couldn't help himself as he moved his hand to her waist and pulled her closer, then dragged it from there to her upper back slowly, all while letting her lead the kiss.

The maiden pushed forcefully, as if she craved more of him, just as much as he did, or perhaps even more.

Moments later, Eitan pulled back despite not truly wanting to. He looked into her eyes and saw the same vulnerability he felt. What even was this?

No matter what it was, Eitan knew one thing about it as Melina looked back at him, longing for him.

It felt right.

Chapter Text

Sorális marched into Meena's tavern, her arms at her side, fists clenched. Her forehead felt as if a fire was brewing inside it.

Silence hung in the air. Someone shifted awkwardly, and a figure in the back stood up, walking away from a group.

Sorális walked right to the figure, her blood crimson eyes laced with a blazing fury, contrasting with her silver hair, which was unkempt, given the fact that she had just finished a workout session.

As the figure in front of her went to talk, she raised a finger and poked it in its chest.

"Listen- I-" the figure spoke in an even voice. His tone half panicked.

"You were supposed to come pick me up!" Sorális complained, lowering her hand again, dragging her finger across the man's thin leather gamberson.

She glanced at his face for a moment. His brown eyes looked back at her with intent.

She was certain that his mind was up to no good, but didn't entertain the thought for more than a moment as she raised a brow.

"You didn't even train today, did you?" His hair was perfectly groomed, his clothing had no sign of wear on it.

"Well-" he started.

Sorális didn't want to hear it. She moved her eyes to the others, sitting at the table.

"He's been here all along, right?"

Séna twitched backward, not expecting to be addressed. "I- uhm. Sorális I- just-" the girl mumbled.

"He's been here longer than we have, that's for sure." The other girl spoke.

"Eleonora! You said you'd cover for me!"

The woman shook her head, her armor rustling. "I said I'd try. Besides, she figured you out before you even started explaining yourself"

The man looked back at Sorális, a nervous smile on his face.

The girl punched his chest playfully. "Take your training seriously, would you, Raven?"

Chapter Text

Eitan and Melina spent the rest of that early morning in bed, looking each other in the eyes meaningfully, occasionally sharing a kiss. Eitan definitely wanted to talk about it, about this.. but was it really necessary? He could see it in her eyes. She truly did want this, whatever it was. Perhaps the nature of it would become clearer later, but for now... He'd leave it at that.

Heavy footsteps sounded from the hallway next to their room. The soldiers and servants were up and getting ready for another busy day. Eitan assumed there was much rebuilding to be done because of the fight the night before.

As much as he liked being here, he glanced at Melina once more and saw what he meant to tell her already written on her face, in a serious expression.

"We'd best get ready." He said nonetheless.

The maiden nodded, shifting and sitting on the side of the bed. Her adventuring clothes; her cloak, and black leather leggings were nearly set on a chair by the bed, her boots set beneath it. She promptly took off her nightgown and picked her leggings up, glancing back at Eitan momentarily before wearing them.

The warrior looked away in a blur. He hadn't noticed that he was staring at her so intently. The bareness of her back something he'd never seen before. Something he was still unsure if he even should be seeing. He huffed to himself before getting up, setting his thoughts away.

Melina had set his clothes on the nightstand on his side of the bed, neatly tidied as well. He smiled to himself at the gesture. It was also something new.
He was smiling as he dressed himself, and he could have sworn that Melina was, too.

*

The halls of Castle Morne were full of life. Soldiers, servants, knights and simple people, common folk from the village outside the castle's walls. These people still lived on, still strived for a better life despite the tragedy behind them, despite any hardship that may come their way.

Eitan took note of them as he walked through the halls with Melina, her arm looped around his. Maybe what he and the maiden had could be something like that. Maybe it could be what they came to after the storm settled. He admired it. The ability to look life in the eyes after all it has taken from you and smile, just rebuild, blatantly, knowing that it could take it all away again in the blink of an eye.

Maybe it was that fact that gave life it's meaning, that gave trying a reason to be. Would any good thing matter if bad things didn't exist? Would Melina matter to him as much as she did if accepting this had been easy? He huffed to himself, gaining a questioning look from Melina, a tinge of worry in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" She asked as a group of servant girls walked past, glancing at them and gossiping amongst themselves, keeping a knowing smile on their faces.

Eitan shook his head. "Nothing. Everything is okay." He responded quietly, setting his free hand on her forearm, rubbing his thumb over it. "Just overthinking some things, that's all."

Melina nodded. She didn't press the issue further. The rest of their walk to Lord Morne's was quiet save for the few times they asked people on the way. They didn't just get lost once..

*

"The lord is still away, but I hear he'll be here soon. He was handling something with that other knight in the prison." The Lord's handmaid explained. "He did tell me to let you in however, so by all means." She continued, opening the wooden door for them and stepping aside.

They walked into a large room with plenty of space. An open window on the side ahead of them offered natural light, and the gentle wind rushing in felt like the first breath after a dive.

The room had a dining table and many seating areas sprinkled with pillows and soft animal hides, meant for laying or sitting. It must've been some sort of main room.

"Thank you." Eitan said to the handmaid as Melina walked further into the room, looking back at him with a smile before leaning on the window, looking down at the courtyard below.

"There's no need to thank me, sir." The handmaid said, bowing her head. "I'll be with you again shortly with your breakfast."

Eitan didn't quite care for the room. He sat by the dining table, propping his head up on a hand as he glanced toward Melina. If someone had told him their relationship would change so much in the span of a day, he wouldn't have believed them. Not when that meant that he could see such a beautiful girl in such a way. He almost didn't believe it now when he saw her looking off into the distance, her fiery red head of hair flowing in the wind.

A knock sounded from the door. Eitan's head darted back for him to see Edgar Morne standing by the open door. The Lord looked battered, but he kept a smile on his face. "May I come in?" He asked. Eitan gave him a slight chuckle as the Lord approached, sitting down across from him.

"Is there an issue? I heard something about a prison." Edgar shook his head after taking his helmet off, setting it on the side of the table. "No... Not anymore. Raphael solved it.." Lord Morne looked quite troubled as he spoke of it, staring into space. "In any case... This day is already working itself up to be too much for me to handle alone. I have news for you, and a request to make."

Eitan listened to Morne's words carefully. He waited for him to continue.

Melina sat next to him before the Lord spoke, greeting him with a nod.

A silent nod was Edgar's response as he continued. "Lord Haight has requested my help in battle.." he said trailing off. Eitan thought to himself...

For news of yesterday's fight to have reached fort Haight by now, Edgar must've sent a messenger as soon as the fight ended.

"I'd like to join in.. but my forces are nearly non-existent. A handful of soldiers and a knight.. Lord Haight will move against Godrick... To dethrone him, and kill him. To bring justice to the many people he's wronged."

Melina glanced at Eitan subtly, but he caught it. She thought they should go with him, he knew. Eitan responded to her with a subtle nod, and the maiden spoke.

"Do you require our assistance, Lord Morne? As soon as Eitan is rested, we-"

Edgar huffed as he cut in. "We don't have time to rest, dear." He explained calmly. "With so many of Godrick's knights away from the castle and in our land, this is our chance to fight back. They haven't reached Fort Haight yet, but Lord Haight will definitely intercept them. If we manage to move in from behind it'll be a complete victory. With Lesta down or captured, Godrick will be at a disadvantage. If you come with us, you must do it now."

Melina contemplated for a moment, then continued. "I think we should go."

"Go now? Don't you need to rest as well?" Eitan inquired, confused.

"I do, but with Godrick out of the way, we'll have one less obstacle on our way to Leyndell."

Eitan raised a brow. "Wait, Melina, couldn't we move around Stormveil in order to make it to Liurnia? Is he really an obstacle?"

Edgar cut in again to convey Information. "The bridge to Liurnia, the path you speak of, has been broken down for years now. If there's a way... It's his dethronement, or death."

Eitan glanced downward, his hands clasped together, shaking. Edgar looked at him with pity in his eyes. Him and Melina exchanged a knowing glance as Edgar continued. "I'll be here waiting for your response. You have until midday to decide. After that, we're marching."

Eitan went to speak, but the handmaid walked in, a tray of food In her hands. "Laura, could you please serve them their breakfast in their room? I apologize for making you go all that way." Edgar spoke softly. The handmaid smiled at him wholeheartedly. "Of course my lord, but there's no reason to apologize to me." She bowed slightly, tray of food still in hand.

She set it on the table in front of Lord Morne, and continued. "I'll send over someone else to tend to you while I'm away, my lord."

Edgar nodded silently as Eitan rose from his chair, Melina by his side.

"We'll be back with an answer." Melina explained as they walked out of the room slowly. Lord Morne was left alone, clasping his hands together as he assessed his meal.

*

Catacomb

Sorális cursed under her breath as she hoisted herself up, laying down on the cold stone floor until Yura made it further up. "Are you still alive?" She yelled out at him. "Yeah! Somehow." Yura yelled back from the darkness.

The girl looked down into the hole they'd fallen through when they first got here and saw nothing. For some reason, the catacomb was inactive now. Perhaps it was tied to that bird-like monster she took down.

She heard the hunter's heavy breathing before he came into view. The girl reached out a hand for him, pulling him up as he neared the top. Yura set his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. "Gods... This wasn't pleasant.. not at all. Kalé better make something good with those flowers."

Sorális chuckled to herself as she started walking toward the exit. "The spirit he's going to use them on is strong.. I'm certain it'll be a great help with what we're tasked with doing."

"Say- uhm..." Yura started. "What happened to your sleeve?"

Sorális raised a brow. "What do you-" she glanced at her arms one after another, then noticed the sleeve of her left arm missing. "Oh, right.. the bird ate it..."

Yura made a face. "Just your... Sleeve?"

The girl snorted as she walked by the abyss on either side of the staircase to the exit. "No, of course. My arm too... Had to use bloodflame to bring it back." She admitted solemnly, setting her hand on her regenerated arm, partly to see if it was actually real.

The hunter remained silent, following close by her, only speaking when they'd exited the catacomb and made their way past Agheel Lake.

"You shouldn't let it weigh you down..." Yura said suddenly.

Sorális tilted her head in confusion. She wasn't being weighed down by it.

"I mean... How I feel toward it. You shouldn't let it weigh you down, Sorális. You've proven to me time and time again that you remain unchanging... You're an exception... So I don't fear or judge you..."

The girl glanced away for a moment, then furrowed her brows, tears welling up in her eyes. She moved toward Yura slowly. He wrapped her in his arms gently rubbing her back. "I'm sorry I took so long to tell you this."

Sorális only shook her head. "Please don't apologize for that.. I'm just happy you're still my friend.."

Yura stilled momentarily. "Of course I'm your friend... I will always be. As long as you want me to be."

"Alright... Alright.. no need for sentimentality..." Sorális said after sniffling. Yura pulled away from the hug. They made their way back to Fort Haight together, without a bad thought in mind.

*

Kalé was waiting for them at a meeting spot in the forest. The same place where they gathered the other day to decide whether to help Haight or not.
The merchant had set up a few things there, and was already cooking over a fire.

The merchant heard the rustling of grass and the crunching of dry leaves as Sorális and Yura approached, suddenly walking out of the thicket.

"About time you two came back. Did you get the flowers?" He asked as he placed a few pieces of meat over the low fire. "I think we brought more than enough." Sorális exclaimed, pride seeping from her like air does through an open window.

“Well done! I'll use them when the time comes.” The merchant stated as Sorális gave him the leather satchel. After opening it to look at the pale flowers, he hung the satchel on a hook on the side of Talla's saddle.

Sorális approached the spirit-steed and reached out a hand toward it. Talla rubbed her head against Sorális' hand, whinnying out of joy. The girl chuckled in response, stroking her mane gently. "Hey there Talla."

Yura sat down on his knees by the fire, taking off his Nagakiba and it's sheath, taking that weight off of him. Being this close to Fort Haight, it was quite unlikely that he'd need to use it anytime soon.

"What now?" He asked no one in particular. Silence hung between them all as they each did their thing, the answer being something that could wait a few moments.

Sorális moved toward the fire as well, mumbling some words to Talla as she moved away from her, the steed tapping its hoof on the ground in protest.

Kalé turned the slivers of meat he was cooking around to get the other side done as well. The marinade he made this time had a peppery scent, with a tinge of lemon.

Sorális sat down, her eyes on the food for a moment, and then on the searing flames, dancing and swaying with the subtle breeze.

"There's nothing left to do now... We just follow Haight." Sorális explained, blankly staring at the fire. "If there's anything we should worry about, it's how we'll actually pull this off..."

Yura chuckled at her second sentence, taking his iron kasa off his head and motioning toward her. "Don't tell me you're getting second thoughts about this. I thought you were certain we could do it."

Sorális nodded, a premonition of unease crawling up her back. It was one of these times again. Her past was forcing itself into her mind once more. She didn't want to let it do so. Instead, she grounded herself by pinching her forearm... Then turned to Yura.

"It's a demigod... Godrick is a demigod. I've never fought someone like that." She explained calmly. "Not that I... Recall."

Kale butted in. "It is said that Godrick is the weakest among them... His blood diluted." Yura nodded along as the merchant explained. "Not only that, but have you seen yourself fight? I doubt he'd be able to keep up with you, being so old." The hunter added.

Sorális smiled subtly. "Thank you.."

Her words felt meaningless. What was she expressing appreciation for? She hadn't even told them what truly worried her.

Kalé and Yura had started talking. She noticed herself fading back into her mind. The world became less and less real with every passing second as she retreated further and further away into herself.

She wasn't even able to see out of her own eyes anymore. She fell and fell and fell backwards as if floating in water. She could've sworn she heard her body speak, but it was not truly her speaking.

*

Blood Realm

Sorális

She was becoming familiar with this place. Her first instinct was to swim up toward the ever present light in the ceiling, shining bright like a road to salvation, a road out of this endless ocean of blood.

As she surfaced, the blood pushed her out, allowing her to stand on its surface. She looked in all directions and saw nothing. The only things that reached her were the horrible metallic scent of blood, and the sound of a liquid dripping.

She hadn't noticed it before, but the ocean was being fed by something. Blood fell into It from above, but she didn't quite know what it's purpose was.

She let out a sigh of relief. Her mind was much less clouded now. If anything, it was empty.

"I'm sorry for bringing you here without warning. It just seemed like you were overwhelmed."

Sorális turned back in a flash. Her piercers would have manifested were she able to bring them forth, but for some reason.. they didn't.

"You're here only in spirit..."

The silver haired girl exclaimed. Sorális' features softened as she saw her. It had been a few days since the last time she showed up in her head. She couldn't say she was too thrilled to see her. The other self.

"Why here?" Sorális said calmly. Setting her hands behind her back as she approached her other self, taking note of her ornate silver armor adorned with red crystals.

"I don't exactly exist within your waking mind.. My presence is stronger here, so I figured it's the best place I can converse with you in."

Sorális simply listened to the information given to her. She looked up at the light source, wondering who or what was speaking to her friends right now.

"You don't have to worry about that. I'm keeping them at ease." The other self explained in an attempt to ease her worries. Not that she needed to. Sorális was mostly devoid of emotion for some reason. Perhaps because it was only her consciousness that was truly here. Maybe emotions were simply a byproduct of the physical mind.

"So you're pretending to be me?" She asked bluntly.

The silver haired girl angled her head. "I am you. But I understand. Yes. I am. I needed some time to explain- or rather remind some things to you."

Sorális nodded. She was certain she wouldn't want to have any of it in the waking world, but it didn't make a difference to her right now.

"Go ahead.."

"You seem to be worried about an assassination." The silver haired girl spoke.

Sorális nodded. "It's a demigod-"

The other self cut her off. "It doesn't really matter what they are. I don't care what they are."

She moved toward the girl, manifesting a piercer of her own, identical to Sorális' weapons. How real it was she didn't know.

"With powers like our own, anything can die. I'm assuming your mind is under such distress because you're trying to remember this fact."

The silver haired girl brought the piercer up to Sorális' chest. Sorális didn't feel fear. She just kept her eyes on the other self, studying her.

“Why do I have these powers?...” The girl managed. She'd like to know part of the truth, since she couldn't handle all of it.

“Why… That's complicated.” The other self huffed as she lowered her weapon, allowing it to disintegrate. Crimson eyes darted up to the girl, a gaze so intense it locked her in place.

“You could say that it was our fate to have them… our fate, and a necessary sacrifice. Everyone knew our name, and everyone believed in us.. We became what we are in order to protect them… we accepted this power so we could save them… the power to kill. To bleed dry.”

Sorális nodded. "I already know that... Séna mentioned us abandoning everyone." Was there anything this person could tell her that she truly didn't know? The things that were buried deep within herself..

"Where am-.. Where are we from?" She asked. The other self's eyes widened in that moment, but Sorális asked another question. "Where did we come from?... Who were our parents? Who were my parents?... Why were my memories taken from me?"

The other self sighed, motioning to Sorális to stop. "You don't want to go back where you came from... believe me. Please just let us live a normal life, away from all this... Use our powers if you have to, but it's okay to leave everything behind..."

Sorális glanced downward, thinking. She bore the other self no ill will, and she also didn't quite feel anything else toward her either.

The girl contemplated for a moment, then spoke. "I want to know where I came from. I want to know what makes me... Me."

The other self huffed, setting a hand on Sorális' shoulder. "It really isn't worth it, I promise you... What's done is done, you can just let it go."

Sorális didn't press the matter further. If she wouldn't be told what her past was, she would find out, one way or another. "Alright. Then, could you remind me why I shouldn't worry about fighting Godrick? My friends might get killed.."

The other self gave her a subtle smile, as if she was satisfied that the subject was dropped. "They won't get killed. Not if you're with them." A short pause as she took her hand away after caressing the girl's shoulder. "Just don't hold your bloodflame back... Use your gifts, Sorális. You're not like the others."

The girl would have responded, if the blood realm didn't tremble.

The blood ocean's surface shook and rippled, yet Sorális and the other self stood completely still on it. The light source above them grew brighter still, illuminating the depths below.

With a glance, Sorális eyed a human, trying to swim up. "Don't look." The other self commanded as she stepped closer, covering the girl's eyes.

The realm rumbled again, blood falling down into the ocean In droves. "You have to go back.. that was all the time I could manage." The other self explained, her hand gently clasped over Sorális' eyes.

"Please listen to me.. after you're done with this mission, give up on the rest of the fingers.. Just live a quiet life in the wilderness.. avoid conflict. You deserve it."

The light from above grew so bright Sorális could see it through the silver haired girl's hands. The realm rumbled again, and in an instant, she was floating away again. Sounds and words rushed into her ears, her mind as reality came closer and closer again. Her body was talking, but it was cut off as her perception came into view. Yura and Kalé, walking alongside her within the halls of Fort Haight. They both looked at her as if they'd seen a ghost.

"What?..." She asked bluntly. Her unease from earlier had not carried over.

"You were talking about how much you liked today's dinner." Kalé explained. "You just stopped suddenly."

The girl glanced downward, placing a hand on her stomach. Somehow, she had already eaten. Not only that, but they had made their way into Fort Haight already.

"Are we going to Lord Haight's chambers?" She asked, trying to ground herself.

Yura nodded in response, his kasa set on his back, hanging by a strap.

"I hope he's planned most of this because I'm in no mood. I don't want to have to think about how we're breaching into Stormveil."

The hunter glanced sidelong at her as they walked at an even pace. "I doubt he'd leave things like that up to chance. We'll be briefed on what to do when it's necessary."

Heavy footsteps sounded from further down the hall. A company of knights approached, all wearing Haight's Erdtree-bearing coat of arms. The lord walked behind them.

Sorális moved to the side to allow them to pass. Yura and Kalé did the same.

"Ah! Sorális, Yura. I take it you're ready? We're preparing for departure tomorrow morning." Kenneth Haight spoke as his knights continued straight ahead. "Our forces are to meet up with Edgar Morne's own force, assisted by a few rogue warriors, crushing a company of Godrick's knights in the meantime."

Sorális and Yura remained silent, occasionally glancing at each other.

Haight raised a brow at them before speaking. "You may wait around until tomorrow. You'll march with us, but we'll split up after you've reached the Gatefront. You'll go ahead. You know who your target is."

Sorális nodded in response. Haight was leaving too much up to them. They'd have to infiltrate a castle without knowing anything about it's layout, guard rotations or the strength of the enemies they'd face.

Ideally, she'd rather stay out of sight, but that wouldn't be entirely possible with Yura and Kalé following her. "We'll have it done before your army reaches the castle's inner wall"

Kenneth Haight gave her a subtle smile in response. "Good. After that, we'll discuss your reward over dinner."

The lord then walked away in the location the knights walked toward, smiling subtly at Sorális. His robes swished behind him.

The group glanced at each other for a few moments. "Drinks?" Yura asked, looking at Kalé. The merchant met his gaze, already smiling. "Why not."

Sorális made a face. "Since when are you two drinking buddies?" She asked them. "And why do I not get to be part of it?" She complained, crossing her arms.

"Since we got access to Fort Haight's booze." Yura spoke quietly, as if to avoid being heard. "Even the cheap wine here is much better than anything I've ever had."

"But you can't have it." Kalé butted in, like an overprotective father. "Wha- I'm a grown woman!" Sorális complained, playfully punching the merchant's shoulder.

Kalé chuckled as he made for Fort Haight's dining hall, Yura and Sorális following close behind.

*

 

The knight didn't remember a forest on his way down to Castle Morne. Sturdy towering trees sprawled all around him in every direction. The path took him further down. Too tired to walk uphill, he followed it.

The trees grew straight up despite the light incline. Had that not been the case, he wouldn't have realized he was walking downhill.

His breathing was heavy and laboured. It sounded through his mask like the growl of a dying wolf.

He cradled Elira’s ruined arm with his other one, avoiding looking down at it at all costs. She may have been dead to the rest of the world, but not to him. Not when she'd gone to such lengths for him. For his dream. For a man who promised his followers greatness and an iron empire that would leave its mark on the lands between.

Lesta rasped. He dragged both of his greatswords behind him, leaving a trail as they crushed the dry leaves beneath them. He could barely see, and it wasn't because of his greathelm. His vision was fuzzy, and his body was abnormally cold. The stench of death followed him around for days now... Such was the nature of war. He thought it was corpses left out to rot, but he spotted none of them as he walked and walked and walked.

Many times now he thought to himself that he should stop, that it was pointless, but he had to return to Stormveil. To his father. Do at least one thing that would grant him some honor.

*Do as father says.. Give up your own dreams and do something that won't have you sacrificing people like pawns*

He would have chuckled to himself if his throat wasn't as dry as a desert and his lungs as weak as the winds on the other side of his father's castle. Who was he kidding. His father was scum, and so was he. What life had he led? What had he even accomplished?

"Nothing." A voice sneered from behind him.

Lesta couldn't turn around to face the person. He kept on walking instead, his blades being dragged with no indication of moving offensively.

"You're worse than your slut mother" The voice continued. "You think yourself so high and mighty, yet you play the obedient son for me in hopes of gaining a higher station." The voice stumbled over it's following words, as if suppressing a laugh. "You- you tell yourself you hate me, yet all you truly want is to be recognized by me.... Don't make me laugh. You're just another body, like all the rest. Unfit even to graft."

Lesta didn't respond. He only walked and walked, the endless expanse of trees continuing, never seeming to stop.

"My blood you may be, but you are no demigod."
Lesta heard it then. A sound he'd heard many times as he spoke to his father. That golden axe slamming into the ground, tearing the very earth apart. It bore the symbol of Lord Godfrey. A lion. Lesta always had to hold back from sneering when he saw his father hold it. If his line had anything to do with the golden lineage it certainly wasn't apparent.

His father didn't deserve his service either.

“Witness now the results of your foolish attempts to become more than you are…”

“Tsk…”

Lesta could only click his tongue in response to the endless taunts. His throat bobbed as obscenity after obscenity cycled through his mind, yet due to the state of his body he could say nothing.

His father- or rather his father’s apparition -since Lesta was almost certain this wasn't real- dragged his giant golden axe on the forest’s floor. Unsurprisingly, the leaves didn't crunch underneath it.

The apparition raised the axe, and Lesta only glanced at it sideways, watching its grin contort into an unsatisfied frown, then into dust as it faded away. Something else caught his attention. Something brought him back.

Voices.

People.

They were walking through the forest, or damn near it. His eyes darted to the nearest sound.

“They're coming!”

Ser Varg. One of Godrick’s knights. Lesta would recognize that voice anywhere, and against all odds, his body moved, stirred like a beast lunging after it's prey.

He arched forward, his hulking swords dragging on the ground as he ran toward the soldiers with an admirable speed.

He could sense it. That he would die. He, as all other animals do, knew that his time was near. He envisioned himself as a wolf, one that had lost its pack, yet still fought for what was noble. What was right.

He would make things right, he would at least die trying.

*

Eitan was walking through the castle. He'd finished his breakfast in no more than five bites, then left Melina to go find the armory.

He'd asked five people on his way here, yet he was still pretty uncertain of its whereabouts. Not only that but- did he have to take a right or a left?

The clanging of metal alerted him to something on the right.

“Shit” he heard someone curse from further down the corridor.

Eitan raised a brow as he continued toward the source of the sound. An open doorway right before an exit to the courtyard. He peeked inside to see an array of sturdy-looking armor sets, chainmail, and various weapons. In the middle of the room, he saw… Raphael, holding a broken sword, wearing light armor.

He was already looking at Eitan, which left the warrior wondering whether or not he'd made more noise than he thought. Raphael looked different somehow. Keener… maybe it was just his imagination.

“Oh hey.” Raphael said as he knelt to pick up the missing half of the blade in his hands. “I'll just leave that… here.” He mumbled to himself as he left the sword pieces on a table by the wall.

“Hey..” Eitan responded, walking into the room. He approached an intricate armor set. Light-looking- parts of it were steel see whereas others were chainmail. A light gray fur cape flower on its back, and red fur lined the other thighs.

“Hm.. Edgar might give that to you if you agree to come with us..” Raphael muttered, sifting through all the possible blade options, weighing them in his hands, clearly looking for weight and sturdiness rather than finesse.

Eitan would've asked why, had Raphael not caught his attention with what he said. “Wait- you've already decided?”

Raphael looked upon the warrior with bright green eyes, sheathing the blade of his choosing- a blunt greatsword. Old, but sturdy. “*Hope this one doesn't break…*” He said under his breath before continuing.

“Well… yeah. I've no reason not to go. Save for commander Serosh.. my old company was… less than kind to me.. or anyone else for that matter.”
Raphael averted his eyes as he looked around for a sheath. He cursed under his breath as all of them were too small for the blade.

“What about doing something else?.. I mean are you sure you want to commit to this? For people you barely know?” Eitan continued, half contemplating whether or not he really wanted to do this himself.

“I barely know anyone, Eitan.” Raphel said hoarsely. “Even back home I.. I’d be alone. And to be honest I’d rather help people who really need it… people who are facing real danger. Real evil.” His eyes burned with intensity. He took a sharp breath as if to say something, yet seemed to decide against it.

Eitan stood there in silence. His hand resting on his blade’s handle. He contemplated his friend’s words for a moment, but didn't know what to say to him. Any words that came through his mind either left immediately or stuck in his throat.

“I… Originally came here for a reason but… after what happened to my friends- I don't know if I can fulfill my promise.” Was the best he could manage.

Raphael raised a brow.

“I don't want to lose anyone else… not like this. Life wasn't this dangerous- beyond the fog.” Eitan pleaded. “I wouldn't want to lose you- either..”

“Hold it.. I'm not going to rethink this…” Raphael took a step forward. His eyes so sharp that Eitan would have assumed he was about to punch him in the face were he not his friend. “I'm don't want to make you come with, but- do you really think that staying here will save anyone else? What of Sorális? What of Yura? What of Kalé? You may not know them as I do, so perhaps I care more-”

“And how well DO you know them?” Eitan interrupted. “Couldn't have been more than a few days!”

Raphael huffed to himself. “That's more than enough for me.” Resignation flowed through the sound of his voice as he continued. “So… stay here if you want to. Keep Melina safe.. But I'll gladly fight so that this land is free… or at the very least peaceful.”

Soft footsteps caught both of their attention. A slight floral scent spread through the room as Melina stood by the doorway. “There won't be a need for that.” She said plainly, determination lacing every word. “I'll be coming with you.”

Chapter Text

Sorális had spent an unreasonable amount of time staring at the ceiling. She'd spent so much time staring at it, that she took note of things she normally wouldn't have.

The bronze chandelier that lay there was tilting to the left, but only by an indiscernible amount- and while nearly all of the candles on it had been melted to the root, just one of them was brand new. She wondered whether or not whoever put it there did it as a joke.

A horrible pulsating headache that rushed through her whole head made her wince.

She brought a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. Kalé was right. She should have taken it easy with the wine.

She hated to admit it, but Kalé WAS right. At the very least, she hadn't managed to sleep much- which would be bad under normal circumstances, but in this case.. It was good, because she had to be up early.

Dawn threatened to arrive, so the girl fought against her protesting body and forced herself up. Her armor felt heavy on her body, well- heavier than usual.

She hoped she’d shake this tiredness off before she had to fight anyone. For her sake, and for her friends’ sakes.

 

*

Upon walking out of her room, she ran into Yura, who stood further down the hallway, leaning against a wall.

“Morning.” He said quietly. “Ready?”

Sorális nodded. “So and so.” Which was true. She didn't know what she would do after this. Whether or not she could trust the stranger in her head. Didn't know if she wanted a stranger in her head. Didn't even know if it was real… even though it felt like it was. None of this showed on her face however. “You?” She continued calmly.

“Ready as I'll ever be…” Yura’s eyes were full of a silent longing. The likes of which Sorális was certain she'd never seen before. “Now come.” He said as he turned toward the end of the hallway. “Everything’s all set. We won't be needed in the main force. It's time for us to break apart.”

Sorális followed Yura as the hunter walked away.

*

They'd made their way to the stables. Apparently Lord Haight had arranged for them to get two quick horses. Two mares. “Hey Yura?” Sorális asked as she prepared her horse for action, fixing her saddle. “Where's Kalé?”

The hunter stilled for a moment. “He didn't explain much. Said he'd be with us, even though we won't be able to see him.”

Sorális hummed to herself as she pondered. “Hmm… Alright. It might be better that way.”

The hunter responded with a light shrug. “Might be. He could've been clearer about it.. but as long as you trust him.”

“Of course I do-” Sorális said almost too abruptly, as if Yura's words had elicited emotion.

 

“Glad to hear that you trust me again, Sorális.”

Both of the finger hunters turned toward the exit to face Kenneth Haight, wearing heavy Knight's armor, a confident smirk fixed upon his face. Sorális held back a smile as she noticed how unnatural he looked with armor and a weapon. He had more wit and heart than the average noble, but he definitely didn't seem like a warrior to her.

She went to explain what they were talking about, but Haight walked closer, setting a hand on her shoulder, and another on Yura's. “I'm thankful to all of you for your help with this. I assure you, Limgrave will never forget your bravery.”

His gaunt face was oddly peaceful. Even so- his words didn't elicit a reaction from Sorális. Not as they did with Yura.

“We're doing this expecting you to honor your end of the bargain, Lord Haight.”

Haight’s smirk widened. “Why yes, information on another bloody finger. I shan't forget that.” The man pulled his arms back and wiped them against each other. “Do your part, and it's yours. Besides… who would be foolish enough to lie to someone who has felled a demigod?... If… you do make it that is.”

“In any case!” He said suddenly as he brought his hands together. “I have faith in you, dear friends. I hope to see you soon”

And with that he was off, without taking the time to hear any response from the hunters.

*

 

Eitan gawked at Melina after the words she uttered. What did she mean she was going? To what end? For what purpose?

“Before you say anything else, Eitan. I'm certain.” Her amber eyes settled on him. Burning silently like blazing embers.

The warrior’s heart thundered. “But- we haven't even spoken on the matter.” He pleaded, his voice nearly breaking.

“No, we haven't, but we can, now.” She responded flatly, nearly no emotion showing on her face. That gorgeous face. The one he'd woken up next to.

Thoughts of that morning surged through his mind. What even were they? Did it even matter at all, or was it just a way for her to pass her time? Come to think of it, he barely even knew her at all.

“Will anything change your mind? Do you want to hear that I don't want to lose you? Because I don't. I really don't.” Was what he managed to squeeze out of his head. He was lucky he kept the storm welling inside him at bay.

“No… nothing will. Eitan we need to do this in order to move forward. And if we're to make this journey, we’ll need all the help we can get. It's best that we face Lesta together. Me, you, Raphael. Castle Morne. And when we reach Stormveil… we’ll have an army.”

“We'll have an army, but there'll be a war!” Eitan snapped back.

Raphael fiddled awkwardly before tying his sword to his hip with a durable piece of string he found lying around. It would do.. until he had to use it at least. He noticed a pause in their conversation, and put in his two cents.

“Listen, Eitan.. I can stay by her side. Make sure she's safe.”

The warrior huffed audibly. “War… Raphael. War against people like that knight, Lesta. It won't be a simple squabble. Something we can just get through scot free and laugh about..”

Melina approached suddenly, and pulled Eitan to her. “I'm going either way, Eitan. I want to help. Now, you have to either bear with or fix whatever it is that makes you think of me as- as some sort of child.”

“Good people have died Melina! To a single person! A person weaker than this knight- and he's not even a demigod!”

“I understand-.. but such is the nature of this land. Strength is passed on through death.. and because of this, such fiends run rampant.. however- we can put an end to some of them, at the very least.”

 

Eitan kept his eyes away from her as he covered his unease, steeling himself. “Alright… I can't stop you.. so I'll come with you.”

“Good. The more the merrier, right?” Raphael tried to ease the situation.

Eitan couldn't hold himself back from shooting a glance at the knight. He was certain his emotions were bleeding through it, but couldn't do anything about it.

With a huff, he walked past Melina. He didn't know what else to say to her, yet wanted to hold her close despite that. Despite the burning feeling in him urging him to go be alone.

 

*

“We should report to Lord Morne. He’ll be relieved to hear we’re all on board with his plans.” Melina said to Raphael. The knight kept his bright green eyes fixed on her, his face a mask of neutrality. She wondered if this was because they’d scarcely interacted before.

Raphael approached, fixing the string around his waist to better hold his sword in place. He squinted slightly, then a tinge of recognition appeared on his face, as if his mind was connecting the dots. “What business do you have in Leyndell, Melina?”

The maiden’s body went rigid. She had taken the knight for a dull one, yet it was apparent to her that this question was not as innocent as one may have initially assumed. There was thought behind it. Reason. It wasn’t small talk.

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to” Raphael continued, giving her a slight smile. “You just.. reminded me of someone. Telling me you were going back to see family would make a lot of sense to me.” The knight explained as he walked toward the exit.

“But anyway, yeah. We should get to Edgar.” He walked out into the hallway, and started for the courtyard, slowly. As if he was waiting for Melina to catch up to him.

She followed, but only because he caught her interest. She'd like to know what his mind had picked up, but wouldn't ask. She couldn't reveal more. Not this early.

“We should.” She agreed as she wound up next to him.

She knew that her silence revealed more than it concealed, but there's a chance it wasn't a bad thing. She would have to explain everything to them soon. Perhaps a while longer with her terrible fate concealed would ease the task.

*

Sorális, Mistwood

Sorális was not fond of her horse. It was a pitch black mare with the temperament of a demon. When she guided the animal to the left, it grunted and veered to the right. When she tried guiding it to the left, it chose to go right.

She even tried outsmarting it by picking the opposite direction to where she wanted to go, but the mare caught on to that after a while, grunting her displeasure and going where she pleased.

Thankfully, it was adamant on following her much more well-mannered sister. The one Yura was riding. A black mare with white blots on her back, and a gentle smear of white on her head.

If not for that, Sorális wouldn't have managed to get out of the Mistwood at all.

*

Sorális clicked her tongue in displeasure as the mare broke into a canter to overtake her sister out of nowhere. At the very least it stopped a few steps ahead of her. Sorális huffed. She wondered if Haight did this on purpose. Just to mess with her. This horse was severely ill-tempered. It made her think of some sort of fiend, or devil.

“She's giving you a hard time, isn't she?” Yura chuckled from atop his mare. The one he'd named ‘Spot’.

“Oh, you think?” Sorális said through gritted teeth as she tried to keep herself stable on the uncooperative horse. It was starting to get on her nerves. So much so, that flickers of bloodflame surged from the palms of her hands.

Surprisingly enough, the horse ceased all of its bothersome activities immediately, simply responding to the accidental display of power with a defeated snort.

“Huh…” She started. “I guess I showed her who’s boss.”

Yura looked on as he spoke. “I’m quite certain that you terrified the poor animal”

“Poor animal? There’s nothing poor about this beast Yura!” Sorális complained, raising a hand and gesturing at him.

Yura snorted in response. “Yeah right.”

Sorális spent the next few minutes wondering if her mare truly was a bother, or if she just wasn't good at horseriding. Well- that said, she couldn’t recall ever riding a horse, so perhaps that could guide her in the right direction.

*

It’d been a while since they put the Mistwood behind them. The journey was generally uneventful save for the occasional demihuman stalking the sides of the road. Beings like them knew well when someone was more powerful than them, so they simply cowered in fear. Human roadmen were another matter. Sorális and Yura would no doubt be targeted by them because of their equipment.

Haight didn’t hold back when he had it made for them. For that she was thankful, yet her set did not suit an assassin. It was light, sure. Comfortable as well, yet so extravagant and blatantly obvious that it would be a miracle if she wasn’t seen. At least the leather parts beneath the silver casing were pitch black, providing some cover in the deep of night but… Not all of the bloody fingers hid anyway. Nerijus wore hooded robes, but they were adorned with gold and rubies. Perhaps assassins with so much power, able to appear and disappear within seconds did not want for stealth.

“This way. According to Lord Haight, Godrick’s troops tend not to patrol the northern side of Limgrave as much, right?”

Sorális’s eyes darted to Yura.

“We’ll go up this hill into upper Limgrave, then head west toward Stormveil. We’ll figure the rest out when we’re there.” The hunter continued.

Sorális looked forward, past a ruined church of Marika.

The sea was visible from here, on their right, as it was back at Lord Haight’s fort. It raged, as it usually did on this side of Limgrave.

Further still was an uphill road, stretching up the side of a cliff. The sky looked dramatically bleak behind it. It made Sorális's skin crawl.

“That's Caelid..” Yura explained as he saw her face pale.

Sorális swallowed as her hands tightened on her mare’s reins. The horse started walking forward. Past the church, and up the road.

“Caelid… I must admit I don't remember anything about it but… I feel like I know of it. Like my body knows it well“

Yura kept his eyes low. “I wouldn't be surprised if it did..” A silence hung between them for a few seconds. Sorális wondered what he meant, but dreaded asking.

“Even if It doesn't already know it, it certainly feels it's terrible presence..” After a pause he added. “Mine does too..”

 

Sorális looked back at the Mistwood as they ventured further up the hill. She noticed a tall tree with golden leaves amongst the normal trees. She wondered why she hadn’t seen it earlier. It certainly caught her attention now.. And something stirred within her, heightening in intensity the more she looked at it. In the end she chose to dismiss the feeling. The task at hand was more important.. Probably.

A church appeared ahead. Another church to Queen Marika the Eternal. The state of disrepair they were all in was quite saddening, but it was proof of the fallacy of Marika’s age, brought forth by the Golden Order. To be Eternal is to erode eternally, that’s what Kale told Sorális at least.

The scent of smoke reached her nostrils, followed by the stench of decay. A bellowing miasma of all things unholy and unclean. Sorális immediately placed her hand on her nose, holding it shut tight. It smelt as if.. As if… This whole place was consumed by..

“Rot…” Yura hummed quietly.

Sorális turned to him, one of her hands held on to the reins reluctantly.

Her instincts told her to turn around and leave as soon as possible.

“What?...” She managed to utter, but Yura didn’t have to speak as they neared the end of the hill, and the church came into view fully.

Its base had been completely eaten away by a horrible writhing mass. A mess of tendrils, stems and flowers. It looked as if it was a combination of flesh and plant.

To their right was a blazing wall, eternally aflame. Around it lay corpses, marred, defiled, ruined, overgrown by that horrible…

“Rot.” Yura repeated. Pulling on his mare’s reins to guide her to the left. West. Toward their target.

Sorális didn’t even want to ask what this was all about. If she had ever known this thing she denounced it with every fiber of her being.

She looked back at it. The red sky looming over the defiled land. A place ever doomed. A place where meaningful life could never hope to flourish.

“Let’s hope we never have to go into that.. cesspool” The hunter said as he noticed Sorális staring.

She hoped so as well.

*

The rest of the journey had been tuned out of her mind. She barely remembered making note of some ruins, but not much else.

Night had fallen upon them. A useful ally, if they used its cover.

“Halfway there?” Sorális asked. Her senses were unusually sharp. She could head every beast and critter scurrying about in the darkness. It was as if her body was expecting something. She was certain that Yura was in the same state. A look at the hunter confirmed it. One of his hands was on the reins, while the other was on his katana’s handle, ready to flick it out of its scabbard.

“More than.” Yura replied. He didn’t need to say more than that. They were both on their toes. Something was near. It had a strong presence. That power that surged through all living beings in this land was quite dense in whatever this was.

Hoofbeats sounded from afar. A muted sound that grew louder with each passing moment.

A thick mist drew near, covering their surroundings.

Sorális’s night vision did not matter anymore, but both of them could still navigate this situation without their eyes. Their horses couldn’t though.

As if in sync, they both leapt off of their mounts, and sent them off into the night. The hoofbeats drew closer.

Yura drew his sword, taking a defensive position.

The hoofbeats stopped when the thing reached them.

Sorális’s piercing swords burst forth with a surge of flame.

The clouds above parted, revealing a full moon. Reflected light cast itself upon them.

Their assailants were revealed.

A beast of a horse snorted out steam from its nostrils. Its whole body was completely covered by a black draping fabric, making it near indiscernible from the dark of night.

Its rider was even more monstrous. A giant of a man bedecked in pitch black plate armor. A plume of black crow feathers adorned his greathelm, the size of which was twice the size of Sorális’s head. His halberd loomed over the ground as he held it at an incline.

The hunters waited for the cavalier to speak, or move first. They were ready for either option.

Without a word, the knight swung his halberd at them, his horse moving accordingly, charging at them as if it intended to kill them by itself.

The hunters dodged. Taking any hit head on would be a death sentence.

The rider repositioned himself, circling them.

His horse charged them again, this time leaping in the air as the rider raised his halberd up.

The hunters were forced to break apart as they dodged the strike in opposite directions. They barely made it out as the rider slammed his weapon into the ground with immense force.

Yura almost stumbled, but had no choice but to keep running forward. Away from the rider, and away from Sorális.

The rider whipped the reins at his horse to urge it toward Yura, even though the beast was already rushing toward him, a crushing heaviness emanating through the earth every time its hoofs met the ground.

Sorális stood for just a second, then started as well, as she realized what the hunter was doing.

He was splitting them apart to pick them off.

*

Yura was running as fast as he could, but he could not outpace a horse, even with a headstart.

The rider loomed close behind him. Yura knew that he would have to be overtaken in order to be struck with enough strength to matter, but that thought was not comforting at all.

Sorális would be there in an instant, Yura knew that as well. But she only needed an opportunity to catch up.

The horse snorted again, and Yura could swear that he felt its hot breath against the back of his neck. Before he could even start to react, he felt the cold sting of metal on his shoulder.

The halberd grazed him, and that strike cost the rider a few meters. That did not mean that Yura was safe, but it gave him a few more options.

The hunter dashed even faster, hoping to gain enough distance to give him time to dodge, or attack.

He’d reached a bridge- one he vaguely recalled making note of on a map as he was studying the route they would take. At least he was on the right path.

The rider’s horse whinied, but Yura didn’t have time to look back at how close it was. He could only work with what was in front of him and hope for the best, but that wouldn’t be enough. Not if he was caught up to again.

He had to stop relying on his eyes. Had he gotten complacent? He should be in control of this situation, yet he was inches away from dying.

No. If he truly assessed everything as surely as steel met steel, he would never truly be in danger.

Yura shut his eyes and blocked everything else out. Not blindness, not silence. Clarity.

The only thing he could perceive were the beast’s hoofbeats getting closer and closer, but still not close enough to strike. He had three seconds, five at best. The hoofbeats stopped.

It jumped

Like a whirlwind, Yura twirled. The rider had attacked on the right side due to holding the halberd in his right hand. Dodging left was the best option available to him.

He followed his instincts, and as he opened his eyes he was greeted by exactly what he was expecting. The rider, weapon raised in the direction opposite of Yura. He’d won this.

 

His Nagakiba moved by itself as he thrust it into the horse’s neck as soon as it landed, and then slashed upwards.

The beast’s body crumbled like a pile of rocks as warm blood steamed out of its neck.

The rider crashed into the earth, groaning.

Sorális finally caught up, taking position right next to Yura.

“Good job.” She said calmly, keeping a sword in the rider’s face. The man breathed heavily behind his helmet. “Speak”, Yura said. Exactly what Sorális was thinking.

The rider said nothing, only moved his head slightly, glancing over at his halberd, which was lying in the grass to his left. “Make a move and I’ll kill you.” Sorális said with a coldness not quite her own.

“Who are you, and why did you come after us?” She continued, but still, the rider remained silent.

The wind blew by quietly, picking up in strength until it became significant enough that it blew away the mist. With it, the rider’s horse dissolved into darkness, as if it was never even real. Its flesh, its bones, its blood, all melded into that corporeal darkness that scattered into the air.

“What’s happening?” Yura inquired as he unsheathed his katana again, pointing it at him. He should have realized that the man wouldn't speak by now, he thought to himself. He felt like he was missing something, an important piece of the puzzle.. One that Sorális had garnered a second earlier than he did. She was already in the middle of striking him down as that same darkness gathered around them, and concentrated in front of them, becoming corporeal, forming drapes, and then that blasted horse.

The beast squealed as Sorális stabbed it in the heart, vanquishing it once more, but the knight was already getting up, one knee on the ground.

Sorális thrust forward again, aiming for a lethal weak spot. His neck. The knight however, despite being hulking proved that he was beyond fast for a man his size. His hand was already in the way. The result: Her thrusting sword pierced through his palm, yet he didn’t say a word as he deflected another strike from Yura’s katana with his bracer and tore away, rolling to his halberd.

Yura was closer to him, so he struck again, a vertical slash that met the halberd’s pole. The rider pushed back, making the hunter stumble. It was a two on one, they would whittle him down no matter how strong or fast he was.

Sorális dashed behind him as Yura readied himself for another hit. She was nearly certain that he hadn’t noticed her. She thrust her right arm forward, aiming for his neck, but during the action she noticed that she was going off course. Yura was- stumbling back again. In one fluid motion, the knight had broken Yura’s stance. Okay- he moved to the side because of his momentum. She could get on course again and hit flesh.

A second stab aimed at his neck only brought her further into danger as she realized that he wasn't moving because of his momentum- rather, he wasn’t following it blindly. It was completely deliberate. He was aiming to do this since he first broke free from Yura. He was aiming for *her*, and she didn’t have any time to dodge his attack, none at all. She pulled back against her own weight. What an idiot she was.

The knight’s halberd crashed into Yura’s blade after passing through Sorális with enough force to kill a dragon. Nagakiba shattered into three pieces and clattered to the ground. Yura’s hands shook. Sorális was unsure about whether or not they could win this fight. She looked down. Both of her hands were gone. Exposed bone peeked through her flesh as her essence poured out. Yura stared at her intently, as if he was lost. No… He shouldn’t be… He told her after all.. The mind was the strongest weapon.

*

The hunter steeled himself quickly, preparing himself for what came next. He threw his sword’s handle away and unsheathed a wakizashi, a smaller blade he kept on him for emergencies like this. He felt unarmed without his nagakiba, but he had no choice but to fight like this.

Thankfully, the knight was now ignoring Sorális. He didn’t deem her to be a threat as she was missing her arms. Yura only hoped she snapped out of whatever it was that clouded her mind and acted quickly. She could regenerate her limbs, she’d done it before- so what was holding her back?

The rider held the halberd in a base position as he walked toward Yura. That same darkness that his horse materialized itself out of gathered around him and settled on his back, becoming a cape.

The hunter could not think of a way to kill this brute without his katana. Not one. He would work toward a way to take Sorális and escape. All that remained was to figure out how he would outrun a horse.

Yura kept her on the edge of his vision, and saw that she crumbled to her knees. He couldn’t rely on her for this. He had to save them both somehow. He switched his focus to the knight, who seemed to be waiting for him to act, his halberd planted to the ground.

He could do this. He had to. He emptied his mind, gathered his options. This knight had to die.

*

Yura filtered through his senses, focused on his hearing. A gentle wind was soaring through the land, gently grasping leaves and flowers in its path. A squirrel was looking for food in the bushes, wary of the scent of blood and the commotion their fight produced. He was searching for something specific, hoping for it. He’d almost lost hope but there- there it was. A quiet whinny. Spot. She hadn’t left, or rather she wasn't that far away from them. In an instant, Yura grabbed a tool from his pocket. To the untrained, it would look like a simple egg.. Well, it was an egg but… It wasn’t just an egg.

He put it in his right arm and threw it right at the knight, who put his hand in front of his face to protect himself, just as Yura intended. He then immediately threw his wakizashi at him, aiming for the shoulder, whistled, and ran for Sorális as the knight struggled with a cloud of glass and dust, with a blade stuck in him.

Spot heard the whistle and ran for him. Admittedly, he admired her loyalty. Sorális’s mare followed her of course, but Yura would not trust that horse with anything. He picked Sorális up. And bolted. The ground around her was soaked with blood, and the girl herself was unconscious. Completely unresponsive.

As he tied her to the horse and hopped up as well he wondered: *Can we well and truly fell a god?”

Chapter Text

A catacomb. Again. Yura hated having to go into another one of them, but he had no other choice. Horses neighed in the distance, giving him that last ounce of convincing he needed to lead Spot and her sister into the decaying mass grave, shutting the stone door behind him tightly. Now he could only hope the rider would lose them.

Spot stood still and remained calm as Yura tied her down to a nearby pillar. He didn’t need to do the same for her sister. He knew he didn’t have to by now if Spot was around.

“You’ll play nice won’t you, you little fiend?” Yura asked the capricious mare as he ran his hand by her neck. The horse simply flicked her tail to her side, and moved her head away.
Fiend.. would be a fitting name for her, he thought to himself.

He turned around to go back to Sorális. This place felt oddly quiet, as did every single one of these blasted catacombs. He only hoped this one didn’t have a soul-devouring beast in it like last time. He was in no mood to be eaten alive again. He would have shuddered, he thought, were he a stranger to blood and guts. Perhaps he should lead a peaceful life when this was over… If the nightmare could ever end for Eleonora.

Sorális’s cough cleared his mind and he launched into action again. He covered her stumps up with clean rags. Thankfully they had stopped bleeding. Normally a bad sign for a human so severely injured, but her biology was not so simple. He could sense that she wasn’t even close to being in critical condition. Still- this injury must have hurt a lot. He pitied her.. Wished he could have protected her from this. This feeling only intensified as he saw her struggle in her sleep; eyebrows furrowed.

Yura let out a frustrated sigh as he turned around and sat down, his back to a wall. They were situated next to the exit of the catacomb. The hallway stretched farther away, down some steps.

No eerie whirring in this one, so he assumed it mustn’t have been enchanted. At the very least, not in the same way the other one was. Okay. They only had to stay there for a while. Until Sorális woke up and healed herself. After that she could simply manifest a weapon for him to use in the upcoming battle. Then… He’d have to go back to gather Nagakiba’s pieces.

He huffed again, looking to the side to check on Sorális. She still lay there, a bit more peacefully than she was earlier. Whatever it was that ailed her heart, had completely exhausted her. Yura’s eyes wandered next to her, where there was a snarling cat statue. It sat on the floor with its back against the wall just like he did. The hunter tilted his head. He didn’t remember seeing that as he came in here.

He glanced around. There was another one further down the dimly lit hallway, though it was standing in a more orderly position, looking more like a stationed guard, holding a forked hatchet in its small hands.

The hunter looked back at the other one, and its head was now facing him. There was nothing in its eyes and face, as it seemed to be perpetually stuck in that snarling expression- though. It had undeniably moved while he was looking away.

He got up immediately. Something was happening.

He took a step back to better assess the situation. In absence of any real weapon he was almost out of options here, and there was no way he could fight any sort of magical enemy with bare hands.

Aha! He had a dagger in Spot’s travel pack. He just had to go fetch it. He whirled quickly and dashed for the horses, but instead of moving forward he approached the floor with immense speed as he felt something trip his foot. To his surprise, he was laying on top of a humanoid cat statue.

He glanced ahead, but the horses weren’t there. In their place, more of the statues. More than a dozen of them.

Yura’s heartrate picked up. Would these critters only move when he looked away? In that case- were the ones behind him moving right now?

He wrested the hatchet from the statue he was lying on. Surprisingly that was much easier than he would have imagined. It felt less like a statue and more like hard, but moldable clay.

As soon as he was armed however, the statues started making a clattering sound. They were clacking their teeth loudly. They moved, despite him looking at them. Yura rolled off of the one beneath him and slammed the hatchet into its head, making it throw its arms and legs up and immediately cease. The others went wild, slamming their hatchets against the floor and running at him on all fours. Yura turned around to get Sorális and leave, but she wasn’t where he left her. His senses alerted him to movement further down the hall so he ran straight ahead. If she wasn’t with him. If she didn’t heal, this mission was as good as finished.

The statues followed close behind. He jumped down a flight of stairs and bolted, catching a glimpse of four statues carrying Sorális, still unconscious as they took a right through another hallway, a door slamming shut behind them.

“Another way then.” He mumbled to himself as he continued.

He had no guarantee that there *would* be another way, but he had no other choice. At least, the chances of him finding a weapon in this tomb weren’t zero.

The road forked ahead. Three options. Straight ahead, darkness. The hallways were lit to the left and right, and his senses didn’t pick anything up from any of the options he had. He chose straight ahead. Maybe the darkness would conceal him, if these creatures even used eyes to navigate.

He couldn’t see, but the hallway retained the same structure as before. The occasional pillar to the left and right, low ceiling, narrow hallway.

Out of nowhere, something fell on him. It grasped onto his armor, onto his kasa.

Yura violently thrashed it off, and slammed the hatchet into it, crushing it against the wall.

These statues didn’t give him much to look out for, but at least he could locate them when they committed to big movements.

Finally- the hallway ended, but there was no path ahead. Only a hole in the floor, and a drop into uncharted territory.

He couldn’t pretend to care about that now though. This whole area was uncharted territory anyway.

The cat statues were closing in, so he stopped thinking about it and jumped.

His feet met the cold dusted tiles with a graceful tap. He glanced around immediately only to find an empty room, with no way in or out save for that hole in the ceiling he just jumped in from. A hole that was too high up for him to access it again. He was trapped.

The room was quite large, and illuminated by an eerie ghostflame of sickly white. Catacombs shared this quality. Using the souls of the dead to function. Perhaps that’s how the statues moved as well.

In one corner of the room there was a suspicious pile. Yura walked toward it with quiet steps. On closer inspection it was a pile comprised of clothing, armors, and weapons. He knew that he recognised the make of many of them. One belonging to a drake knight, many of the land of reeds, his homeland, and others of the make that were commonly used in the lands between. He knelt next to the pile and brought his hands together in front of his chest in reverence. He paid his respects to the dead before rummaging through their equipment, since he needed it.

He found many katana’s, none quite like Nagakiba. None made by a forgemaster as great as the one that made his true weapon.

Some were chipped, some had almost become dust.

He found one that was completely unused, still in its scabbard. In his land it was dishonor for a warrior to die as such but… He couldn’t blame the warrior. They must’ve been brave to be here in the first place.

He picked it up, and set it next to Nagakiba’s scabbard, which felt empty. Without his true sword he felt unbalanced.

“...You…” A whisper sounded.

Yura jolted, unsheathing the blade immediately. It was lighter, shorter, yet would allow him to attack faster if need be.

“Who’s there?” Yura barked out, unable to sense any presence at all.

“Who… Are you?” The disembodied voice asked, still whispering quietly. It sounded as if someone was right next to him.

Instead of answering, he swung his blade in the direction of the voice. The blade struck something, yet remained in place.

What had stopped it… A black serrated knife.

“Rude…” The voice spoke, a bit more loudly.

Something pushed him, and he fell off balance. Whatever this being was, it had supernatural strength.

“State your name” The voice said, speaking loudly, unafraid to be heard.

Yura followed the sound to a stone carved seat. A throne. Whatever this was it was currently sitting down.

“...Stop this.” The voice said in an annoyed tone. It sounded like a young woman, perhaps in her late twenties. Her voice was rough, as if she hadn’t used it in a while.

“Stop trying to defeat me, hunter. I can see your eyes darting around. I can almost hear your racing thoughts.. I am not a threat..” Finally, she appeared. A lithe body, lean, yet with muscle that packed strength despite its small size.

She wore dark chainmail, which was covered by a black near invisible cloak, more like a physical darkness. Her face could not be seen, a mask of pitch black fog obscured it as she wore the hood.

“Speak, hunter… Are you after my skin? Like the others? Seeking power or… Reward for my death? What business have you here?”

Yura hesitated, but spoke as the woman sat on the stone throne, an arm supporting her head. He had no other choice but to speak anyway. “I’m Yura of the land of reeds. A hunter… of bloody fingers.”

 

He could have sworn he saw a glint of interest pop up behind that fog in front of her face.

“...Ah… Not after me then… I suppose I should have guessed… Then.. This must be your target.”

She picked a crystal up from beside her, and dragged a finger over its surface.

A hidden door in the wall opened suddenly and four statues walked in, holding a still unconscious Sorális.

“You got her well. Both hands in a single blow it seems…” The woman spoke. “Though… I can’t quite see you managing to do that to someone like her… The Pale Finger…”

Yura took a deep breath. “What do you want from us, and how do you know of her?”

The woman chuckled. “How do I know of her?... She killed half of my sisters, forced us into hiding.. I assume lord Mohg got quite the scare after the night of the black knives to send someone like her after us…”

“You’re a-...” Yura could have sworn the darkness in her face smiled with her.

“A black knife assassin?... In the flesh, though nowhere near the likes of Alecto.”

“So she really is the Pale Finger…” Yura mumbled to himself.

“Yes.” The assassin answered. Her darkness revealing nothing as silence hung between them. “Though I have some doubts about her nature. It appears to have changed.”

“She doesn’t remember who she used to be. Not fully… That’s why she joined me” Yura explained.

“Ah… So she hunts her own kin with another hunter now… Ironically noble of her..” The assassin mocked.

Yura would have said something to retort, about how he knew the girl well, about the fact that she was nothing like what she used to be, but he knew well that it would not make his situation any better.

“So what do you want from us…” He trailed off, realizing he did not know her name.

“Alianne… And for the moment.. Nothing. I’m glad you’re not here intending to attack me.. And when it comes to the bloody finger you call your companion- I hold no ill will toward her. Its true, the body is unchanged… But the mind.. Its fickle.. Weak.. Naive… Yet I also sense a hopefulness in her. In my eyes, a welcome change. Power like hers could change this world. I’m not a mindless brute to snuff it out now that its being used for good…”

*How would she know it is? Has she been watching us?* Yura felt uncomfortable with that thought. The black knives. Killers well known throughout the lands between, a group of assassins that had managed to kill a god. A real god, not one like Godrick.

Alianne must’ve noticed his silence, but didn’t comment on it.

“So who did that to her, if it wasn’t you?” She asked as she played with her black knife. Tapping its edge with her finger.

“A rider, dressed in all black wielding a halberd. A powerful foe. Cunning as well.” Yura explained as he made his way to Sorális to check on her. Of course, he was still mindful of the assassin, but for her to deflect a blow from a katana with such ease… While only using a dagger too. Victory against her was impossible. He wouldn’t be able to do it without Sorális.

The assassin kept her words for a while. “Mm.. That brute. I’ve seen him.. Been hunted by him, and fought him. I know not exactly where his allegiances lie, though I do know that he works with an omen.. and that he’s not the only rider of his kind.” Yura was certain that she was looking at him very intently under that veil. She confirmed this as she pulled her hood back, making the darkness dissipate.

“If you… intend to fight him again.. I’d advise you to prepare yourselves to be hunted by the others.”

Yura gasped involuntarily as he saw her face. Fair skin, silver hair and light blue eyes. Well, eye. A scar ran down her face that went past her right eye. It looked like the slash that caused it was as precise as the steady hand of a surgeon.

Alianne gave Yura a sly smile. “What is it, hunter? Do things make a little more sense now? Or a little less?”

Yura truly wasn’t certain. This woman and Sorális looked so… Similar. Not exactly the same, but similar. The same sharp eyes, though Sorális’s didn’t even have a notion of the mask Alianne’s had. Sorális conveyed much through her eyes.

“I’ll even help with your case.” Alianne continued, taking something out of a pocket and walking toward the hunter, her long silver hair swaying with her movements.

“Here.” She said as she opened her palm, presenting him with a simple necklace. One whose pendant looked like a miniature version of her dagger. “Give her this, and she might remember a few things. I promise, they won't be bad”

Yura looked up at the assassin for a moment. She was completely genuine.

“Come on, take it before I change my mind” She said but only jokingly. Her eye betrayed her here, despite showing little emotion. She really did care about Sorális.

Yura took the pendant, hesitantly. “Why don’t you just explain who you are to her?” He asked calmly. Any worry he harbored within him was completely gone.

Alianne shrugged. “I may be hiding from something..” The fog over her face reformed, distorting her voice slightly. “Now go. Seeing me might bring back some bad memories. Make sure she stays safe.”

The hunter said nothing in response. He picked Sorális up and walked through a newly revealed passage that opened as Alianne ran a finger over that crystal of hers. He’d entered this catacomb for safety, knowing a little, and exited it knowing even less.

*

Limgrave, Catacomb Entrance

Sorális struggled to keep her eyes open. Even as she woke up, her body protested against moving. A headache thrummed in her skull, and pains tormented the rest of her body. The first thing she saw was Yura sitting across the hall. Her head was turned and resting on a pile of rags, which were by no means as comfortable as the lavish silken pillows back at Lord Haight’s fort.

Yura had set up a campfire in the middle of the hallway by removing a bunch of loose bricks and filling the hole up with old and dry tree roots. Sorális wondered if that was some form of sacrilege or not. At the end of the day, she didn’t really care. Every fiber of her being was sacrilege to the golden order, she knew that very well.

The hunter was carving a piece of wood with a knife, though Sorális couldn’t figure out what he was trying to make.

“Finally up, are you?” Yura said calmly, setting his knife aside and glancing at his piece of wood. At which he grimaced as he tossed it into the fire.

Sorális went to speak, but her throat hurt too much to speak. She strained a little only to produce a weak grunt. It wasn’t worth it. It hurt too much to be worth it.

Yura raised his hand slightly. “Don’t push yourself. You need rest.”

Sorális thought to herself that she wouldn’t even if he hadn’t said anything about resting.
“About that rider. I think he’s lost us. It’s been a few hours.. We’ve got time until Haight’s main company arrives. He gave us two days.. We’ve got a full day after this night is over.. I got enough sleep to last me that long. I’m quite certain though, that you slept enough for the both of us.”

Yura smiled at Sorális as he picked another piece of wood up, along with his knife, and started carving.. Though it looked more like he was just clumsily peeling pieces off the wood.

She nearly closed her eyes again, but something caught her attention. On her pillow, right next to her was a pendant.

Her eyes watered almost immediately. She felt the need to get up and demand that Yura tell her where he found it so she could go there and… She.. Wanted to cry. She wanted to mourn, to grieve, to be left alone, yet she also felt warmth, and then the purest of joys. Most of all though, the pendant made her determination flare up within her. She couldn’t even begin to explain how or why, but it felt right. Like deep within herself, she knew.

Her hands regenerated almost naturally, a gentle flame forming into bone, flesh, and skin. She let out a sigh and every negative emotion lessened, if only by a little.

She squeezed the pendant against her chest.

It took her back to a better time.

*

She felt like herself again in the span of a few hours. Whatever had happened to her against that rider… It never would again. Of that she was certain.

Her body was much stronger than she gave it credit. It was her mind that failed her.

Despair, hopelessness, and guilt. These three crushed her, but why did she feel guilt at all? That was beyond her. Perhaps she didn’t want to fail Yura.. And.. she surely had that night.

Sorális growled quietly as she shut the catacomb door behind her and walked outside.

The day was quite bright.

This catacomb was built on the side of a cliff. It’s stale and gloomy interior a complete contrast to the bright green field right outside of it.

The wind swept Sorális’s hair to the side, guiding the tall grass with it.

Yura was getting his horse ready. Well- He was beyond that as he was brushing her coat.

“Taken a liking to her, huh?” Sorális asked the hunter.

Yura glanced at her sideways, giving her a smile.
“Call it familiarizing myself with my equipment. You should get started with that, too.” He responded as he nodded toward Sorális’s horse.

The girl grimaced. She looked at the black mare and it looked back. Chewing on fresh grass as it turned away with a whiny. “Well, my equipment doesn’t even want to familiarize itself with me, so… For now I’ll fight fire with fire.”

Yura raised a brow. “Are you sure that’s… Smart? I mean… What if you need her help in a crisis? If you command her like that… Will she come to your aid, or run away?”

Sorális huffed quietly. “I don’t know- She does whatever she wants.” The mare snorted. Sorális was certain it was saying ‘That’s right’.

“Try greeting her. Speak to her, tend to her.” Yura explained before demonstrating by whispering to Spot and brushing her coat. The mare leaned her head toward him quietly. She didn’t make a sound, but her actions said everything they needed to say. In just over a day, the hunter had managed to win over Spot’s trust. All Sorális managed was to… Piss that fiend- her mare off.

Fiend. “Hey… Fiend…” She said quietly as she slowly approached, arms stretched out toward her. The black mare shot her a glance as she chewed, her head low as she still picked grass off.

“Fiend? That’s a little…” Yura trailed off as Fiend suddenly breathed out with great force, her nostrils flaring.

The mare’s eyes whispered a silent threat. “Hey girl… Will you help me?” Sorális asked gently, her knees bent as she awkwardly moved closer.

Fiend shied away, leaning the other way and lifting a hoof off the ground. Eventually she took a few steps back, but Sorális didn’t stop her gentle approach. “Hello there.. Will you be my friend little Fiend? I know you’re not all bad.”

The mare flicked an ear as her head rose, higher than Sorális’s level. Sorális was taken aback. She stopped abruptly. Fiend stood firm, looking down at her. Another snort. ‘Get up’. Sorális assumed, so she did.

The mare didn’t shy away this time. She only stood there like a stone statue, her gaze persistent enough to make Sorális feel like she was frozen in place herself.

She extended a hand to the mare like Yura did with his. Fiend snorted again, smacking her hand with her head. Sorális tried again, and the mare just lifted her head higher up with a whiny. “Not friends?..” Sorális asked, though she knew her words were most likely not understood. They weren’t necessary. Her uncertainty was conveyed from her actions alone. Her intentions with Fiend, too.

Still, she wasn’t backing off this time, so she moved to the mare’s side. She didn’t follow Sorális with her eyes at all. ‘Fine, I’ll help you this time’. That’s how she perceived this behavior, and for that much she was thankful. There was a fire in this mare quite like her own.

She got up on the saddle. This time, Fiend was unbothered. She didn’t protest, she didn’t stomp her hooves on the ground, and she definitely wasn’t trying to make her fall off. Good… So far so good.

“Wow..” Yura exclaimed from atop Spot. “That was quick- Too quick. Did you two reach an agreement?”

Sorális nodded as she guided Fiend forward. The mare moved at a steady pace. “I believe so!”

*

On the road again, though the roads in the North were still well kept, whereas down south the bricks usually receded into the ground. Sorális assumed it was because Godrick didn’t station many of his troops here. Because his knights were either in his castle, or keeping the peninsula- Lord Morne in check.

“What are you thinking about?” Yura said all of a sudden, a hint of concern painted on his face.

“Oh-” Sorális responded. She had lost herself in thought.

“We won’t suffer this way next time. I’ll make sure of it.. I’ll make sure we don’t split up. We’ll be a united front.”

Was he talking about the rider? Was she supposed to be worried about him? Come to think of it, she did break down during the fight.. But it wasn’t bothering her. In fact, she wasn’t even afraid of him. He was fast- strong, and cunning, sure. But she was faster, and stronger. She wasn’t sure about more cunning, but losing in a battle of wits once does not make one lesser.

“It will go better next time, Yura. I know that.” It will. If she realizes the root of her problems.

“So.. Lord Haight mentioned a camp on the way to Stormveil. We did pass the bridge on our way here yesterday, so we shouldn’t be far away from it.” Sorális started, no doubt in herself that it was only to get away from facing what was plaguing her. They rarely needed to speak out loud like this anyway. Gestures and nods got them a long way.. And perhaps they were enough for the practicals.. But not good for finding out what was wrong with her.

 

“You speak truth. The most efficient way to deal with it would be to avoid it. We can’t have anyone spotting us. That would betray our arrival.” Yura responded as they entered a forest again. It could hardly be called a forest compared to the mistwood, but it was certainly a collection of trees.

“Then should we get off the main path? We’re less likely to be spotted that way.” Right now there was no one around them but the occasional squirrel on a tree, but having to fight again would be a bother.

“We’d surely be safer that way, and we’ll be better off safe rather than sorry.” At that, Yura guided Spot to the left. The mare followed, but contrary to her past behavior, Fiend didn’t immediately follow her sister. She waited for Sorális to give her a signal. Surely enough, she turned when Sorális pulled her reins that way. She’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t proud of herself for managing to find common ground with such a difficult horse.

The forest concealed them, what with the trees close enough to each other that it was nearly impossible to see anything outside of it. Sorális’s immediate thought after that though was that it could conceal their enemies as well. Granted, they’ve proven they aren’t much for strategy, but they couldn’t afford to be careless. Not with that rider around. Not without knowing who he works for.

It was getting a bit harder to move around. There WAS a path, but it was old and unwalked. Being spotted here was definitely unlikely, but not impossible. A nod from Yura confirmed that he too could see the camp ahead, hear the soldiers talk and laugh.

“Now that we see them, avoiding them should be easy.” Yura said quietly. Sorális followed closely behind him.

They continued forward, the camp to their right, when Spot suddenly stopped, Yura drawing his sword in response. What in the hell had happened?

Sorális leaned off Fiend’s saddle to see. It was a soldier. A younger one at that. Should’ve been in his early twenties.

Sorális’s blood boiled at the sight of him. She felt a burning sensation bubble up within her. She shouldn’t hold back. Not again, not ever. Holding back gets you killed. Holding back gets others killed.

Sorális was already off the saddle when Yura tried to stop her, stretching an arm out, but to no avail. Her piercer had already burst forth, fire covering her hand.

The boy watched helplessly as her sword extended into his throat with a mighty thrust. The only thing he managed to do was let out a desperate scream that ended as Sorális’s piercer lodged itself into his neck and out of his nape, draining his blood in seconds. That ghastly red flame it creates burning his life’s essence away. He died with tears in his eyes.

Yura looked on in shock on a similar level to that written on the boy’s face.

Sorális simply pulled her sword back and let his body fall to the ground with a thud. She wiped her sword on her bracer.

Yura would have said something. anything if the rest of the camp wasn’t rushing toward them.

“Alan?!” One of the soldiers cried out. “Someone’s there! Come on, stand ready”

*

No more running away. No half measures, and definitely no holding back. Sorális quickly assessed the situation, her eyes marking the targets one by one, all sacs of blood waiting to be pricked and emptied. And with blood in her blade, she could perform more powerful attacks.

A knight, two archers and two soldiers.

“Five. Three coming at us.” Sorális said to Yura as her second sword formed out of flame in her other hand.

*

Yura held on to his katana tightly. Sorális melted into a pool of blood and disappeared.Two soldiers were coming straight for him.

“Spot, get out of the way, girl.” He commanded his mare as he jumped off. The mare took her sister with her out of the forest. The hunter held his blade in front of him with both hands. He would defend himself, but initiating combat like that.. No. They had other options. Many other options.

A soldier came at him from the left, straight sword raised up high. He left himself wide open. It would be an easy kill, but he felt compelled to end it peacefully. If he knocked them all out they could make it to Stormveil before these soldiers even managed to report back. It shouldn’t matter by then.

Yura’s katana had already blocked the hit. He thrust his shoulder into the man, disorienting him. The other one attacked from the right. The hunter blocked and hit the soldier’s fingers with his hilt, making him drop the sword and grunt in pain. He then punched him in the face, sword still in hand. Both of them were still up. It’d take a few more hits to bring them down bloodlessly.

After gathering themselves they attacked at the same time, the knight was approaching, moving in between the trees, his heavy armor slowing him down.

Yura blocked both attacks again. Quite easily, and tripped the one that had dropped his sword, then he disarmed the other one with a sudden pull by grabbing his wrist and applying just enough pressure to his elbow to make him think he’d dislocate it. The man dropped the blade with a cry of pain. That’s when Yura struck him on the neck, knocking him out instantly.

The knight had made it to him, spear in hand. In the other hand he held a shield nearly bigger than him. Yura would have a bit of trouble getting around him. “We’ve heard of you!” The knight said loudly as he thrust his spear forward from the safety of his shield. Yura didn’t have to do much to dodge, but the problem remained. That damned shield.

“You’re the one that’s been opposing us aren’t you?” The knight continued as he charged Yura, keeping his shield high and his spear poking out from the side.

The hunter gathered power in his legs before jumping over him and pushing off his helmet, making him stumble forward. He certainly didn’t recall opposing them directly, now as for the result of his actions… Maybe, he may have helped Lord Haight. There was a chance that Godrick had sent for a bloody finger.. But a man like him, despite being a demigod, could not have connections strong enough to warrant such a thing. Most other Lords despised him.

“What are those numbskulls doing? I told them to support us-” The knight started as he struggled to get up. Yura didn’t attack him yet. He’d tire this one out.

One of the soldiers got up again, picking up his sword. He ran straight at Yura, only to be blocked and kicked into a tree.

There was blood on his face after he crashed into it. Yura only hoped he hadn’t wounded him mortally somehow. How was he bleeding? He hadn’t struck him there, and he didn’t appear to hurt himself when he crashed- so.

Something ripped, and something fell on the soldier, soaking him in a deep red crimson.

A pair of legs. Legs and entrails, red with blood, and separated from the rest of the body.

Yura looked up to see the other half. A torso and head hanging off thick branches. That must’ve been one of the archers.

He looked back only to see the same thing happening to the knight. A mauled corpse had fallen on top of him as well.

“We’re done here.” Sorális said from right next to the hunter.

“What are you-” Yura started, but paused as all the blood in the area caught on fire. A fire so relentless that it didn’t even allow its victims to scream. Their blood was immediately extracted from their bodies, killing them near instantly.

The soldier Yura knocked out wasn’t burning yet, but Sorális simply thrust her sword into his skull, taking his life in a swift move.

Yura couldn’t bear with it. He took hold of her shoulders and pulled her toward him. “Sorális what are you doing??” He yelled at her.

She didn’t respond, only looked straight at him with a ‘normal’ gaze, as if nothing was
out of the ordinary.

Their assailants had become black as coal, and the fire had settled into nothingness already.

“What?...” She asked plainly.
“What do you mean what…” He trailed off as he looked around. The soldiers little more than silhouettes of char.

“I just dispatched the enemy, Yura.. I didn’t take you for such a sentimental hunter. Do you think the fingers we hunted together didn’t have families?” Sorális asked as her swords disappeared with a burst of red flame.

Yura turned away and whistled for Spot. The mare was there in less than a minute, during which Yura said nothing to Sorális. “This… horror… It looks like what we saw in Caelid.. The land that unsettled you..” He said as he climbed onto Spot, rhythmically tracing his finger over her coat.

Sorális only looked back at him, her eyes dead with apathy. Fiend was already there with her. “That’s not what unsettled me in Caelid.. My fire is pure. Peaceful. Caelid is decay incarnate. Rot, stagnation.” She retorted as she got up on her horse as well, urging her to go forward.

Yura followed, Spot marching at a steady pace right next to her sister.

The hunter sighed and said nothing in response, thus dropping the subject.

It didn’t take long for Sorális to start talking about something irrelevant. It was like this situation was a normal day to her. Either that, or she was pretending it was.

Yura didn’t engage with whatever she had to say at all. For now they had to kill a demigod, and that’s all that mattered. But after that?... Solitude did not sound so bad anymore.

Chapter Text

According to Ser Wyll, all you need at the end of the day is a warm fire, food, and good men with you. Good men of course are people who believe in you no matter what. Obedient. People who have the strength to pull through. Powerful. And people who have the wits to rise up to the challenge. Intelligent.

His immediate circle was only of such people. Even if one were to disagree with his tactics, his company remains undefeated, with none of his chosen few ever dying. Upon his return to Leyndell, he called them all to his quarters for drinks and food by the fireplace. As usual, none had died in battle.

“Ahh, it warms my heart to see you all, boys! I see you’ve gathered scars the lot of you!”

Wyll chuckled before downing a whole mug of ale. A servant girl refilled it immediately. With the amount he drank at any given time, he needed to have her serving him exclusively, whereas another servant was enough to serve the rest of his company. Ten other people.

They took turns talking to him, telling him about all of their adventures and misadventures. Battles they’d fought on scales large and big. Most of them had ventured out with companies of their own to lead, while some left on missions where secrecy was required. One was nearly cut in half by a battle axe- he was only saved because of fervent prayer. Another lost a few fingers but found he could wield his sword well enough without them. One was simply grazed, and another thought he died. Wyll laughed at each of those things, because indeed it was fun to. Humor helps humans cope with the toughest of battles. Physical or mental. And for a soldier there is no divide. They fight battles on both fronts, such was their burden.

“Oh- Axel- let’s hope you don’t lose your head next time. You don’t regrow those you know!” The elder knight said as he downed another mug of ale. The servant girl looked at him nervously. She could barely keep up with him.

“Well, Ser. I can’t regrow my fingers either.” He said as he raised his hand, the top parts of his pointer and middle fingers missing completely. The company burst into laughter. Wyll had almost heard everyone’s stories but two. There were Lucienne and Geralt, still. They had ascended Mt. Gelmir to cut down the heretics’ forces.

“Geralt? Geralt my boy, which digits did you lose if any?! Lucienne won’t be happy if you lost your-”

The company suddenly went silent. A crushing weight pressed against Wyll’s chest. All of the memories he had of Geralt flashed across his mind. His training with the sword. The boy’s first love and heartbreak. He’d raised these kids himself, taught them to fight, taught them to think. They were like his own. WERE his own.

“Lucienne… Where’s Geralt?...” Wyll ground out, his grip tightening over the mug’s handle.

Lucienne looked at him with a lost gaze. Now that he thought about it, she had looked like that all night. She was generally absent minded, so he didn’t look into it, but..

“He didn’t-” Wyll started.

“No..” Lucienne responded quietly. “He lives.”

Yet still her eyes watered as she spoke. Yet still the rest of his kids all fell pensive.

“Then where is he, child?” He asked desperately.

“He left… After we reached the peak of the mountain he… Something happened to him.. He changed so much…”

“Tell us about it, kid..” Wyll said as he sat next to the girl by the fireplace. The rest of the company moved closer. Now less as soldiers, and more as family.

 

*
I dreaded my first deployment. I had to leave my family behind to fight this war, without knowing whether or not they’d survive theirs. My part in it wasn’t small either, but at least I had Geralt with me. He compensated for my lackluster swordfighting, and I could heal and protect him, though he was rarely in any real danger. You trained him well, Ser.

The snake’s forces were already weakened, so there weren’t many soldiers to oppose us by the foot of the mountain. The dregs that remained were barely worth fighting, though we did kill some of them in self defence. I found it difficult to accept that these people fought for that foul heretic of their own accord, but had no other choice for it was reality.

He employed automatons of various makes. Abductor trappers filled with snakes in their iron interior. Many a man were lost to those. If not to the snakes, to the scythes or saws he armed them with.

The others were easier to deal with. Marionettes of Carian make, powered by glintstone magic. Foul thing that.

Good thing about them was that they were predictable. I had no problem dealing with them. Geralt had even less of a problem. He didn’t even get injured once during our ascent. He matched and overcame every single enemy. Every single one of the snake’s knights. I only had to pray for myself- for he was in need of no help.

The only time he got hit was when we reached the peak.. Right before the snake’s manor. We found a terrible beast of rock and magic. It was fast, and near invulnerable. It charged at me and.. He got in the way to save me. He looked like he had lost all hope, but then.. He changed.

*

Caria Manor, Geralt

“And what happened after that, Geralt?” Asked the witch. Her voice ethereal, like a gentle wind caressing his ears.

He’d been taught to distrust magic, mages and witches. Told that the Carians were wretched fools that peered into the unknown, to get a glimpse of the forbidden, only for it to singe their eyes forever. Yet-... Had he accidentally committed the same folly? He didn’t want to make another mistake, but with a voice like hers, he could hardly resist.

*

I could only feel my blade and shield in my hands.. And the pain of my battered body. The beast had singed the surrounding area with its magic, but that wasn’t the full extent of its powers. It had strong mandibles that could easily crush me and my armor in seconds. Its tail tore my shield apart and broke my arm with a single swipe…

“That would explain your condition..”

It would.. But I would have died had I not looked to the stars. I didn’t do it with hope in mind. Perhaps I was giving up, or praying for something to save me. To save Lucienne. I didn’t find a god.. I didn’t find a deity, or divine revelation.

It felt like a universal truth, one I have yet to decipher fully… One I fear I never will understand. Two bright light blue stars caught my attention. They came for me from the edge of the cosmos.. Marking their existence into my eyes… It burned, but it didn’t matter to me back then.. Because I don’t even know if it was me moving my body.

You won’t believe me.. But I wielded it. This magic you Carians have. I made the beast freeze in place, and then I crushed its skull with my hand.

The stars then guided me here… Called me…

“The Moonchilde…”

*

Geralt gasped.

“They did- how did you know?” He said with a hint of wariness. His eyes, though a bright blue, were currently blind. The witch could sense it. The enormous amount of magic in them. Rivaling her own.

“I merely guessed… I’ve been told I’m good at it.”

“How could- gh-” Geralt cried out in pain and shut his eyes as he placed both of his hands on them suddenly. He arched his back in pain as he laid with it on the bed.

“It seems you could use a little help” The witch said with that beautiful voice again, though flatly, as if there wasn’t anything in her speech other than words.

“I’ll run you a bath” She continued. Geralt could barely hear her talking through the pain, but with one of his senses gone, this was comfort enough.

He didn’t know how much time passed. It could have been forever with that horrible pain in his eyes- behind them. She guided him to a bathing room he could only guess was quite large due to the fact that he walked a while since they entered it. She told him how to position himself in the bath and remained quiet for a while. He didn’t know if she was still there after he’d undressed. He wouldn’t have cared anyway, in need of help or no.

The water was hot, a luxury he had never enjoyed before. It soothed his body, sure, but the pain in his eyes remained unchanged.

“Witch?...” He called for her, his voice echoing through the bathing room.

“I’m right here, Geralt” She said from right behind him. “And… Call me Ranni.”

“Alright-... Ranni..” He said hesitantly. “I wanted to see if you were still here..”

“My eyes..” He grunted.

“I’ll help you with that.” She said quietly as one of her hands ran over his cheek. He had to stop himself from leaning into it. He thought about Lucianne momentarily. He didn’t know if he felt guilty over leaving her like this. For being here with another woman… But.. He didn’t quite care anymore. It was as if a page- no. Several pages had turned for him. He wasn’t even sure if his name was Geralt anymore.

“But before that..” Ranni started as she placed a hand over his ailing eyes. He felt as if her mere presence was already alleviating the pain somehow.

“Should I call you Geralt?”

He didn’t know what that question meant and where it came from. Perhaps she saw more than he did, understood more. The name felt alien to him, but he hadn’t realized until now. Perhaps…

“Call me.. Moonchilde.” He said in a tone more confident than he had ever been.

“That I’ll do.” She responded calmly.

His eyes started to feel cold. He assumed she’d started helping.

He was certain of it when the pain left a few moments later.

“Ohh… Thank you” Moonchilde said with a sigh.

“No need to thank me.” She responded as she took her hands away an instant later. “I’ll prepare your bed.” She explained as she walked away. “Call for me if you need anything.”

*
Sorális and Yura, Stormveil Castle

The northwestern side of the castle. They’d have to scale rock before they could scale brick. It would be unthinkable for anyone to scale over these walls, even in an assassination attempt. For all its unlikelyness, this plan could actually work.

Yura took two pairs of climbing axes and tied the horses down on a tree. He passed a pair to Sorális, only for her to glance at him dismissively as she made herself talons out of fire. Very well then. She’d climb that way then. He left her pair with the horses and got back to it.

She hadn’t taken very kindly to him ignoring her earlier, but what else was there to do? She couldn’t be reasoned with, or didn’t care to abide with reason. He wouldn’t try anything else, lest he endangered his own life. He didn’t really feel that way. His strategic mind came up with that outcome. One he couldn’t really believe in but had to follow. It was true, they were their enemies, and they would most likely have to kill more of them in Stormveil, but that boy…

“I’m getting started. You’re free to wait here if you want to.” Sorális remarked. Her words felt like a bite. Alright, he’d have to sit her down after this. Explain himself to her, or manage to get through to her.

She was already higher up, almost by the bricks. That deadly magic of hers could be used for anything. Even so… What happened earlier could be proof that it affected her greatly.

He too, began, albeit at a much slower pace. The climbing picks etched themselves into the frail rock without much of a problem. Their tips had been enchanted by some sort of spell that anchored them into rock, or at least that’s what Kale said. Yura hoped that it was true to a greater extent the higher he climbed.

*

Sorális let go of the brick wall with one hand and turned her head around. The sun was setting over Limgrave. The Erdtree’s golden branches looked as if they were gently caressing it, and its leaves fell down quietly, providing light and solace even in the approaching night. She savored the beauty of this land. Agheel lake, the Mistwood, the church of Elleh, a place she called home for a while. She wished she could spend more time here. And perhaps she could; As the inner self had told her, she could just live her life.

But.. She had a job to do. The way she saw it, Limgrave only had one problem. Godrick. He had to be dead by the next day, and she’d make sure he would be. After that… She would move on, probably to a new land. She’d find the rest of the bloody fingers. Uncover her past, but not go back to it. A flash of pain ran through her mind. She definitely couldn’t go back. She wondered how it hadn’t killed her already. The torture she endured. The training.

She shook her head to snap herself out of it. She brought her other hand to the wall in order to start climbing again.

Yura had caught up to her. He looked on. His expression didn’t say much, but she knew he was worried. Probably thinking she was losing control. If she was, she didn’t realize it. She just didn’t want to be in pain anymore.

She huffed as she sank her talons into another brick, bringing her higher still.

She could be losing one of her only friends, but at least she was doing this land a service. It was definitely better than whatever she was doing in the past. Working with those murderers.

Stormveil was mostly ruined. Windswept and besieged in the past, the castle had many signs of age and wear. Most notably, there were many holes in its walls, likely from catapult hits. They had found such a hole, big enough for both of them to climb in at the same time.

This was where they decided what they’d do. Climbing to the top and finding an outer wall could give them more insight on where they need to go. She was certain Yura would go for that. But… She had a better idea.

She snapped her fingers to get his attention, since he’d overtaken her.

She motioned inside. She could hear speech, meaning guards or servants.

Yura seemed averse to it, but he complied eventually, climbing back down, albeit with some difficulty.

Sorális let him assess their surroundings before going in. There was nowhere there. Or rather, no one was talking or moving anymore. She went in first, slowly sneaking toward where she’d first heard speech. Yura followed closely behind her.

They were in a well lit corridor. Old rags were all that remained of Godrick’s banners upon the wall. A golden lion with a green background. The floors were adorned with old and dusted long carpets, and ancient weapons were hung on the wall. Well- some of them were on the floor, too. They must have fallen due to the wind coming through the holes in the wall, with no one around to care enough to pick them up.

Something was off. Save for the howling wind, an eerie silence covered this place. As if Sorális completely imagined the voices she heard earlier.

The wind got stronger, louder. Making it difficult to hear anything. Yura looked at Sorális, shaking his head. He had a bad feeling about this, and so did she.

The hunter alerted her to a presence. Someone hiding behind a wooden door on the right side of the corridor. Perhaps that must’ve been the one they heard talking. Good. They’d get information from him, too.

They both approached the door quietly. Yura unsheathed his katana. Sorális didn’t call her own weapons though. She could do that when she really needed to.

She placed a hand on the handle and nodded to Yura. The door was open in an instant, and Yura had already raised his blade at whoever was in there.

“Woah woah woah woah-” The man shouted. A soldier dressed half in chainmail and half in rags. A tattered red cloak over his head. His hands were raised. His face looked youthful, yet dirty. As if he hadn’t cared for himself in months.

Sorális raised a finger to her mouth before speaking. “Where is your master?”

The soldier’s eyes lit up. “Master? What master? My commander?”

The huntress stared daggers into him as she got closer. “You know well I mean Godrick. Tell us where he is, and we’ll let you live long enough to see this castle fall.”

The soldier looked between them saying nothing. Sorális huffed as she brought her bloodflame forth through her palm, and brought it near his face. Her red eyes shone with intent. “Tell us, or I’ll give you a gift.”

“Alright alright- I’ll talk-” The soldier said hurriedly. He looked at Yura for a moment, who didn’t look so pleased. “I-... Godrick is..” He trailed off. “I don’t know.” He finished.

Sorális looked at Yura, and then at him with dead eyes. “I’m sick of you already. Now talk…”

She took hold of his forearm with her blazing palm and kept on holding it with an iron grip. The man went to yell but she covered his mouth. He ended up squealing into her hand. His flesh sizzled and dripped onto the floor. She wasn’t in any hurry to end this. “Are you going to talk now?” She asked, but didn’t take her hand away from him.

He nodded, his eyes open wide in urgency. She took her flames away for a moment, but pinned him to the wall. “Then talk. Now.”

He was breathing heavily. His whole body has sweated over, making him practically drenched. It was by no means because of the heat she just forced into him.

His forearm was bright red and bleeding. Her flame was unique in that while it burnt through flesh and made blood boil, it didn’t cauterize wounds, so the blood ran free.

“Lord Godrick should be in his lineage’s graveyard… He’s been frequenting it for some time now…”

Sorális nodded. “Thank you kindly. Anywhere else he could be?”

 

The soldier didn’t talk, but the wind got stronger. He only looked back at her, holding his dripping arm as the wind howled louder and louder. “There’s something I haven’t told you…” He said with a sudden confidence.

Sorális tilted her head. “Go ahead.”

“In Stormveil… We can speak through the wind..”

She looked at Yura. That could definitely be useful.

Yura suddenly looked behind him because of the implications of what the soldier said no doubt. Sorális did as well, and their suspicions were affirmed. He’d called for backup. A knight was already dashing for her. Abnormally fast. His actions were guided by wind, empowered by gale.

Sorális called her thrusting swords to her and was immediately forced to block a hit.

The knight attacked with two longswords he unsheathed as he flew through the air into her. He slammed both of them downward at her, which would normally be a bad move, but in this case, due to his speed, he could do whatever he wanted.

Her swords both shattered from the impact as they met his. The blow sent her through the open wooden door and deeper into the corridor. She tumbled back and got winded as she struck a wall with her back, then fell to the floor with a thud.

She was certain something broke, but couldn’t figure out what, since everything hurt. She almost lost herself again. The pain, the instantaneous defeat. She looked to her left, out of the hole in the wall she came in through.

She was about to retreat within herself, but she felt a tug on her arm.

*Don’t stop fighting*

She heard, but there was no one that could be saying it. Yura was too busy fighting that knight. His lips hadn’t moved. His eyes only darted to her once or twice, to check up on her, but he focused on the fight afterward. To retain his composure no doubt.

She didn’t care that this *voice* in her head urged her on. She didn’t care about this mission, or about the demigods. Kenneth Haight, OR about what Yura thought. All she wanted was to live how she ordained. And she definitely didn’t want whatever was happening here.

Sorális moved one hand, then another. Then both legs, and she was up.

Bloodflame swelled from within her and outward, searching for and repairing any wounds.

The shattered remnants of her swords melted away and reappeared fully repaired in her hands.

All she could see in her mind was that knight, dead.

Her vision went blurry as her heart raced and her blood boiled. He’d just struck her so violently so why would she hold back? Why would she struggle so much with holding back when the world had only given her cruelty? No. No more.

“No more.” She said quietly, yet both Yura and the Knight seemed to sense or hear her.

She looked at her assailant straight in the eyes and pointed a sword at him.

“Sit down, or die.. Or… don’t. You deserve what’s coming for you”

The knight stopped attacking Yura. He only looked at Sorális as the hunter backed off as well.

Yura tried to approach her, but she didn’t even look at him.

“Sorális- Whatever you have in mind- don’t do it. We can end this bloodlessly. Only Godrick has to die.” The man tried to reason, but his words hit deaf ears. He could visualise it. Like trying to harm a knight with a stick. Nothing went through.

“Our mission is already compromised, Yura. If that soldier we interrogated earlier gets away, the Lord might even escape.. I can’t let that happen. I have to find the others, I have to know what I am.”

Yura would have countered, shouted at her, pulled her back, but he couldn’t. She was already gone, and a wave of heat, smoke and flames forced him further away.

The knight had already been impaled through the chest. Two strikes that had injured both lungs and the heart. He’d be dead in seconds.

The hunter closed his eyes. Another life taken, and his friend’s soul sullied further.

“Sorális…” He exclaimed as he walked to her through the smoke she left behind. Her beautiful black hair was untied now, falling over her back and silver pauldrons.

Red eyes glanced back at him. Balefully “No. You won’t change my mind. We have to go forward. Now.” The knight’s body slid off her swords and crumpled on the floor. Lifeless.

“Tsk..” The huntress clicked her tongue and started walking down the corridor. She knew the soldier hadn’t managed to cover a meaningful distance. The trail of blood he left behind betrayed his condition. He could barely walk.

Suddenly she stopped. Something was holding her hand. Yura.

Her blood hadn’t stopped boiling. She thought about killing him too. Nearly acted on it. Nearly called her blades again to strike him down. Yet- She was being embraced.

Her vision blurred again, and it wasn’t long till she felt warm tears stream down her cheeks. “What are you doing?” She whimpered before trying to pull away violently.

Yura let her, but only pulled her into another hug, her head sitting on his shoulder. His arms around her. “Sorális, I’m here with you..” He said in a low tone, his hand running over the back of her head. “I don’t understand what you’re so afraid of.. What you’re still running away from- but… I can face it with you. You don’t have to be alone..”

 

The need to distance herself clawed at her insides, but clashed incessantly with the warmth his hug and words gave her. She wanted to leave, but she also wanted to stay.

No words presented themselves in her mind. She couldn’t think of anything to say or anything to do. All she could do was blame herself for the lives she’d taken. She could see flashes of them. People she thought she’d never seen before.

But no. There were hundreds of them, killed just like she killed that knight. In the same exact way.

She didn’t even want to think about those she’d killed in general.

Her whole body shivered, as if she was dying of the cold. She frowned, grimaced, and her eyebrows came together.

Those warm tears flowed even more as she dropped her swords and broke. Crying loudly, and desperately breathing in for air.

“I’m-...” She started, then sobbed. “A monster”

Her hands laid there limply as she leaned into Yura.

The hunter stood silent, not knowing what to say. His first thought to what she just said was not a kind one. Not something you’d say to a person in pain.

“Shh… Calm down.. I’m here for you..” He said as he held her close to him, his hand cradling her head.

“And you won’t leave?...” She wailed, crying throughout.

“No.. No, I won’t.”

He wasn’t even sure if he was speaking the truth or not. He couldn’t deny the fact that he still cared, but he couldn’t ignore her actions either.

Was he any better for knowingly allying with her, despite his suspicions? This should be further evidence to him that her cessblood cannot be trusted. Even so, he found himself hugging her. Comforting her. Feeling for her.

Despite their whole… situation, he was keeping his senses around them. It was surprising that no one had found them. That the soldier hadn’t sounded the alarm.

Even if he did, once they were both on the same page, they could still finish this.. Or not. Another way to track the other fingers down would surely present itself. He hoped Eleonora would be the one they found next. Wondered whether or not she could reach this point too. Whether or not she could understand the weight of the lives she’s taken.

He’d tried before. Just once. But it was as if he was talking to a different person. Someone wholly different from the drake-knight he’d once fallen in love with.

If she truly couldn’t be cured, he’d have to kill her after defeating her, yet with how he treated Sorális, against all reason, he couldn’t get himself to believe that he’d manage to do that to her.

The huntress hugged him back after a resounding boom sounded from the other side of the castle. She shifted in the embrace in response. “What was that?...” She said after sniffling.

“Our reinforcements.. Must’ve made it earlier than Haight expected, but it shouldn’t be a problem.” Yura responded matter-of-factly.

He pulled a hand away slowly and patted her back as he took a step away. She looked so very vulnerable in this state, with her eyes puffy and red from crying. A young girl.

He could hardly believe she was capable of even harming a fly.

“So.. we failed?” She said quietly, bringing her hands together and rubbing over her knuckles with a thumb.

“Not necessarily.” The hunter responded as he fixed his kasa on his head. “We can still find Godrick.”

A few steps down the corridor and a turn to the left confirmed that.

The soldier lay there dead. He’d bled out.

“No one sounded the alarm. In fact, their forces will have other things to worry about.”

Yura continued confidently.

Sorális didn’t seem very comforted by that, but nodded as she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. “Okay.” She responded, keeping her distance from Yura, but following his lead.

*Well, we may just make it…* Yura thought to himself as they made it to a large iron door. It led to the castle’s wall-walk.

“Surprisingly… I don’t think any less of you, for being what you are..” He stated all of a sudden. “I kill, too. And I’m not proud of the fact that it wasn’t just bloody fingers I’ve killed.”
Brown eyes looked into her crimson. He read how taken aback she was by what he said. He still saw worry. He still sensed guilt. “I see the kindness in you. And I know you don’t want to be a killer. Not without reason.”

She would have cried again if she hadn’t just done so.

She didn’t speak. Only listened.

“But this man we have to kill. Lest he’ll kill hundreds, if not thousands… He already has, and will continue as far as his years take him.”

Sorális said nothing. She only nodded her agreement as she balled her fingers up into a fist.

 

*

Weeping Peninsula

Eitan, Melina, Raphael

And so the war began. The whinnying of horses, their hoofbeats, the banter between brothers in arms- cries of pain, death, and ravens gathering overhead, knowing full well the dinner bell has rung became usual occurrences again.

It hadn’t even been half a day since their company started from Castle Morne. Initially a small force that grew because the civilians forced Edgar to let them come with him.

He reluctantly agreed, and armed them well with chainmail, helmets, swords and shields. An army one hundred strong, yet only ten of them were truly trained soldiers.

Eitan knew that Lord Morne didn’t just do this to accept their offer and please them. He could have just as easily refused, and relied on Lord Haight, but no. He did it because he had no other choice. The repercussions for turning against Lord Godrick would be so grave that losing a hundred men would pale in comparison.

Moreover, the townsfolk seemed to enjoy this. Well, this part of it as well. He could tell from a glimpse that while they had lived through hardship, they had never fought in a real war before. Not even a battle with their lives on the line.

They drew first blood against the remainder of the Grafted Knight’s company and celebrated as if the war had been won.

It sure as hell never made Eitan celebrate. Killing. It always felt bitter, and not sweet in the slightest. The only positive emotion he could find himself feeling was a short respite. Relief. One that dissipated soon after, since peace never lasted long in this land.

With things as they were, Eitan fought in the frontlines with Raphael, to make sure the untrained soldiers didn’t die. He knew he wouldn’t be able to save them all when they reached the castle. Some, if not most of them would fall. But at least it would be for a noble reason. They’d buy peace for their families with the demigod gone.

Sadly, it seemed impossible to convince Melina not to come with them. She’d practically entered this war with no regard for her own safety, and dragged him with her.

She even fought in the frontlines. She was more skilled with a weapon than he expected. She wielded an enchanted dagger that glowed with a holy light when she touched it with intent. He didn’t even know about it before all this.

It started to feel as if she wasn’t being honest with him, something that didn’t bide well with what they’d shared in their bedchamber.

The warrior shook his head to make these thoughts go away. They weren’t of any use.

They were marching through a road in between two cliffsides. The great forest of the peninsula lay on their left, above the cliff.

A tracker had surmised that the rest of Lesta’s company, and he himself ventured into it. If they didn’t find them on the road, Lord Morne would guide a force into the forest to find them, and have a few skilled warriors stay back with the main force in case they re-entered it.
A strategical decision, since the threat of them returning and destroying their unprotected town was not dismissible.

Eitan glanced at Melina, riding on a brown mare next to him. His lips parted but he couldn’t think of anything to say. His expression neutral, his eyes returned to the road ahead, settling on an approaching rider, one of Haight’s messengers.

“Lord Morne! Where’s Lord Morne?” The messenger cried out, red faced, and drowning in sweat. “A beast- A knight!” He continued.

“What could that mean?” Melina asked Eitan with that sweet, gentle voice.

Eitan knew well what that meant.

“That knight is back. The Grafted One.” Raphael responded.

Eitan only nodded in agreement.

“Ser Lesta…” Edgar said as he rode forth to meet the messenger.

“Lord Morne!” The man said, nearly falling off his horse as he got off it. “I came here to tell you that Lord Haight’s army is ready and waiting- but you must know off the trouble on the road further ahead.”

“Speak to me boy, what is it?” Edgar said calmly, pulling his horse’s reins back to bring it to a halt.

“There’s a large man- with an unsightly beast of a horse. He’s been killing Godrick’s soldiers. He was lying on a pile of corpses. He almost killed me as well. If he and his horse weren’t injured I’m certain they would have given chase!”

Edgar nodded. Remaining quiet for a few moments. He looked at the group. First at Melina, then Raphael, then Eitan. “We’ll handle it.. Thanks for letting us know.”

“Someone get this man some water and something to drink!” Edgar cried out. A battle-servant with a large pack on his back brought the requested water, and gave the messenger some bread and cheese to eat.

“So he’s injured.” Lord Morne muttered, more to himself than the others.

“Probably because of the beating you gave him” Raphael said to Eitan, moving his horse close enough to nudge him on the shoulder.

Eitan’s stallion whinnied. “You say that as if you didn’t stop his horse in its tracks.” The warrior said back, eliciting a smile from the knight.

“I’ll help you out this time.” Melina suggested. “The best course of action would be to fight in a coordinated manner. All of us. Ideally, we could have some support from our archers.”

She looked at Eitan specifically, and he couldn’t help but feel like she was trying to tell him something.

“A good plan. He’s alone. Most likely dying. It shouldn’t be too difficult to end him then and there.”

Edgar said with a smirk on his face. “You’re a wise woman, Melina. Though it is common sense that there is unity in numbers, many men would rather fight alone, be it due to fear, or pride.”

*

Caria Manor

Moonchilde

The scent of forest berries reached Moonchilde’s nostrils as he lay on a couch- somewhere. He couldn’t quite see yet, though Ranni’s constant help had restored his vision from nothingness to a blur of some kind.

He was able to navigate well enough, not seeing but ‘seeing’ with some extraordinary sense he had gained after the incident at Mt. Gelmir.

Despite that however, Ranni only let him move around without scolding him when she was there. When she could be there to catch him if he fell. He knew he wouldn’t, but she didn’t, so he couldn’t blame her for her protectiveness.

“I’ve prepared some tea for you.” Her voice came out of nowhere. Flat, but still very soothing. Moonchilde wondered why she spoke the way she did. She sounded like some of his brothers and sisters when they recalled the wars they’ve taken part in. As if their souls had left their bodies momentarily to protect themselves while the body alone went back to the horrors.

A hot cup of tea was placed into his hands. He could barely make out her silhouette. She wore a light blue dress and witch’s hat. Her skin appeared to be of the same color but he assumed it was just his damaged eyes confusing themselves.

She seemed to not like it when he looked at her. Walking away as soon as she noticed, so he tried his best not to. Her presence was quite comforting, so it upset him when she left like that.

“I can see that your body can regulate your magic better now. Do your eyes hurt at all?”

She asked as she stood by him, unmoving. He liked that she cared, though he knew not why. Why she went to such lengths to help a stranger. And all that by herself, even though she was a lady of high standing. He could tell that much. He could hear the servants talking outside this room at times, though they never entered.

“They haven’t been hurting, no. It’s been two of your treatments since they last hurt, Ranni.” The knight explained. He had to admit that he quite liked the treatments. Her hand over his eyes felt quite intimate. He didn’t feel the least bit guilty about that thought, even though he felt he should.

“That’s good. You should completely recover soon. Then your training can start.”

Moonchilde tilted his head. “My training for what?-... I may have not told you, but I’ve already served as a knight.”

“Then do you already know how to wield magic, Moonchilde? How to stop it from consuming you?” She continued, not a hint of change in her tone.

“No.” He admitted. “Do you think I’d have to?”

“It’d be a waste not to. Your…” For the first time he heard something different in her voice. Hesitation. “Magical power… It's equal to mine.” She stopped again. “I haven’t told you because I feared what your reaction might be… But your arrival has been foretold. You’ve been chosen by the stars to be my protector. To stand beside me.”

Moonchilde balked. He expected this to be more difficult to accept, but it made perfect sense to his mind, as if whatever or whoever he used to be didn’t matter anymore. It felt like the absolute truth he saw in the stars atop that mountain. “Who are you, really?” He asked. For a single reason.

“I want to know who I’ll be serving.”

Ranni didn’t speak for a short while. As if weighing his words. “I’m Ranni of the dark moon. Lunar Princess of Caria. Heir to the throne of Liurnia.”

The knight expected much of this response. “I see. Then I’ve already emburdened my lady.” Despite his condition, Moonchilde stood up. His body felt near weightless, but he couldn’t tell if it was because of the ailment or a change in physical condition.

“If it is your wish for me to train, I shall start now. If there is something else I must do, I will begin. I simply await your orders, my lady.”

“I didn’t expect you to…” Ranni trailed off. “Forgive me. I’ve doubted this prophecy for a long time now. I fully believed no one would come for me. That the Moonchilde was mere fiction. I waited hundreds of years in my physical body, but you wouldn’t come. I chalked the prophecy up to the musings of my mother, driven mad from sadness.” Moonchilde wondered what she meant by physical body. Was she not in her body at that moment?

“I am sorry to hear that you have suffered alone, my lady. I am here now, willing to serve you. To stand by your side.” Moonchilde said with fervor, and truly believed every single word.

“What of your previous life? Your friends and family?” Ranni pressed, another crack of emotion, perhaps concern? It was odd that he was so willing to stay with her. He recognized it, but he didn’t care much himself. It wasn’t faith in what the stars had told him. It was purpose. Belonging.

“If I’m being honest… There’s nothing there for me anymore. No connection, no family, no home. And… It feels like there was nothing there to begin with. All I see in my mind’s eye is the endless depth of the cosmos, and my two guiding stars. They.. Have brought me to you. I am certain of it. This is my path.”

Ranni got up abruptly and walked to the other side of the room. She quickly came back with something in her hands.

“In that case, kneel before me, my knight.”

Moonchilde obliged, taking a knee in front of the princess. His lady.

“Under the night stars and under the dark moon, you will now be known as Moonchilde.” She brought the blade to his neck, as if to cut his head off, then placed it in his hands.

“This is Moonsilver. She will be your blade, and a tether to me.”

The princess then brought a staff to the side of his neck. The blue crystal on its head glowed slowly as it emitted a bitter cold. Nearly cold enough to freeze his skin.

“And this will be your staff. You will be trained in its use by me. It's best that these training sessions happen regularly. Individuals with magical power like ours have to release it often, lest their body is singed internally.”

“And what would you task me with, my lady?” Moonchilde raised his head to face her. This time the princess didn’t shy away, and he saw her clearer. Deep blue glowing eyes, and the visage of a spirit alongside a physical body.

“I am in need of a physical vessel. My soul cannot remain attached to constructs eternally.” She said as she put her hand into his, commanding him to stand up. She looked into his eyes as she spoke. “This is but a crude doll..” It was true. The more he touched her hand, the more it felt lifeless. Empty.

“How would you acquire a physical body, my lady?”

“I’ve heard tell of a certain person. A rogue bloody finger of Mohg. One that can recreate flesh as easily as you or I could weave magic into being. With her help… It should be easy to sculpt a new body for me, at least so I can temporarily reside within it.”

Moonchilde nodded. “It will be done. I will go as soon as you will it.”

“A few days. You’ll rest a few days before you go. My servants will clothe you, provide you with armor. And I’ll make sure you learn the basics of magic. You’ll need that much, my loyal knight.”

As he looked into her eyes, Moonchilde swore he could see eternity.

Chapter Text

Weeping Peninsula, Road

Eitan, Melina, Raphael

 

There he stood. Over the corpses. Holding both of his swords in front of him, their points meeting the ground.

Raphael had fought him long enough to know that the second set of arms he had now were not the same one he had when they last fought. They were bigger. Almost as big as his own.
The only answer as to where he got them, would be the pile of dead soldiers and knights behind him.

He didn’t look the least bit injured, which was worrying. Eitan had cut into him pretty good the other day, and the messenger reported that he was too injured to run after him, his horse too, but that beast looked as lively as the last time they saw it as well. What on earth could have invigorated them to this extent?

“Worry not. He couldn’t possibly stand up to an army, no matter how determined he looks” Lord Morne cried out before barking out multiple orders. A row of archers was assembled, mostly comprised of his town’s hunters. A row of soldiers moved forward to stop the knight should he charge at them, and the trio stood up front, dismounting from their horses.

Surprisingly, Lesta’s warhorse, Storm, stood right next to him calmly, grazing…

“I thought that horse ate meat or something..” Raphael exclaimed, making Eitan chuckle.

“So how do we approach him?” Melina started as she walked forward, unsheathing her curved dagger.

“He’s not attacking so… Maybe we wait?” Said Raphael.

Eitan drew his sword and held it with both hands. “No. The more the time that passes the greater the threat this man poses.”

“Alright then.” Raphael nodded, drawing his blade and following close by the others.

Lord Morne raised his halberd and took a deep breath. Near complete silence engulfed the field of combat until he let out a warcry, and the wind raged with him.

“RAAAAAAH”

The Lord ran forward, his halberd dragging on the tall grass until he jumped- no, flew as if pushed upward by an unseen force. He then plummeted downward, his long hair swaying like a trail behind him.

Lesta opened an eye, looking upward. His sword was up near instantly, blocking the hit with another hand supporting the side near the edge.

Storm neighed as if in a challenge, stomping his hooves on the ground.

As Edgar landed after the assault, Lesta placed his blade in its original position.

“You’ve grown weak, Lord Morne.” Lesta remarked calmly, a cocky grin written on his face. His black hair was on display, since he appeared to have lost his helmet. Now that his face was visible he looked oddly… boyish.

“A helmet can indeed make a man imposing..” Eitan noted. “It wouldn’t mean anything without ability though. Do not take the loss of it for a change in his capabilities.”

“I’ve seen what he can do. I wouldn’t dream of underestimating him.” Said Raphael as he picked up his pace. Eitan followed.

The grafted knight did not seem to pay them any mind even as they approached in tandem, though he did turn to Edgar Morne as he held his halberd up and moved closer.

“Why did you kill your soldiers, dog? Did they do what your people do best?”

Lesta only chuckled. “Aye, they betrayed me. It didn’t do them any good.” He shot a glance at the trio before continuing. “I would’ve done it to them, sooner or later. I’ve changed my mind. Bout who I serve.”

“If you think we would take you under our employ you’re gravely mistaken, bastard” Lord Morne sneered.

“Who said anything about you, lordling? I serve myself. I’ll forge an iron crown and raise Stormveil to its former glory!” Lesta replied, his voice increasing in volume as he spoke.

“Eitan. Attack.” Edgar Morne commanded. “This mutt has gone mad.”

The grafted knight scoffed as he raised his four blades. Eitan wondered how he controlled each arm with such grace. He could barely use two swords himself. More arms would be a nightmare.

Raphael charged forward first, a powerful aura emitting from him as hardened bark spread out from his chest to protect him, forming an ornate chestplate.

“Wha- Raphael! What on earth?” Eitan cried out in surprise.

“I don’t quite understand it myself- I just go with it-” The knight yelled back in response as he swung his sword at Lesta, only to be easily blocked and counterattacked. He took a hit to the chest.

“Ack-” He huffed as the air was forced out of him, sliding back but regaining his balance. “You’ve grown stronger- How?” He asked Lesta, who only grinned at him before deflecting another assault on Morne’s end.

This looked so easy for him that a one on one fight would most likely be unfair for any of them.

“Come on! Maybe if you keep on trying, eh?” Lesta mocked, keeping a sword toward each one of his enemies. “I can’t die now. The only part of me that could is long dead now. Come at me all at once if you want to; I won’t relent.”

The warriors did not lose heart. “He’ll fall.” Melina declared as she angled her curved dagger in front of her.

Eitan rushed forward, Raphael in tow.

The grafted knight was waiting for an attack, but would he be able to anticipate his newfound speed and strength?

Eitan delayed his sword swing as much as possible, trying to overwhelm Lesta, since Lord Morne was charging forth on his other side.

Instead of reacting to him however, the knight only blocked Lord Morne’s attack and rammed into him, throwing him to the ground. Then he turned to the warriors, a wicked grin on his face.

He slammed Raphael downward with a sword’s pommel, as the knight jumped forward and slashed downward to no avail. Eitan attacked as well- or rather he was already attacking, but he was the only one doing so.

Lesta had no problem using just one arm to disarm him. He then kicked him backward and laughed to himself.

“Shut your mouth, heathen!” Lord Morne cried out, running forward with his halberd raised. He jumped up in the air again.

This time, Eitan rushed forward with him, aiming to overwhelm Lesta. He angled his sword sideways on his side, ready for any situation.

Lord Morne crashed into Lesta’s block again, immovable, but the titan of a man didn’t have enough time to counterattack, as Eitan was upon him with a thrust.

A swift swipe with a greatsword knocked the warrior aside, but Raphael had reached him too, his sword descending toward his side.

Lesta smiled. Another easy deflection. Though as he slashed toward the knight, he caught a glimpse of Edgar and Eitan attacking again. A single deflection wouldn’t be enough to fend them off for long.

 

“Alright.” Lesta growled as he raised all four of his longswords and slashed in a cleaving motion, breaking swords and halberd with a crushing strength.

Melina was quick to react, raising a protective spell over them all. An impassable golden barrier. With the grafted knight’s speed, it was imperative that she was ready at all times, yet as the warriors lay on the ground, she noticed that his assault never came.

“What are you doing?” Melina asked him. “Are you toying with us?”

Lesta finally laid eyes upon her.

“Not at all, maiden. I thought I made it clear that I have no quarrel with you anymore.” He said in a gentleness that seemed to elude him until now. “Aye, I hunted you under my father’s orders. I’ve done far worse things for him… But I was at my wit’s end. I wish to oppose him. I wish to unite my people… And I do not know what you intend to do about it yet. I assume you attacked because of my former… Affiliations.”

Melina stilled, letting out a deep breath. Relief? Even so, she didn’t dispel the barrier.

“Get up. Get up, all of you. I won’t have a proper conversation with him until you’re all ready and he’s sheathed his swords.”

The grafted knight raised a brow upon hearing that. He sheathed his swords near immediately. Out of respect for her or to mock the others.. She couldn’t tell. The smile on his face as he looked at them made her think it was a bit of both.

It must’ve been an action of trust, since he turned his back to them, walking toward Storm. He picked his helmet up, which was hung on the warhorse’s side. A greathelm with a sleek and rounded design. Two arms clasped together at the top of it. He promptly wore it and turned to face them again.

The warriors had gotten up, but none of them looked pleased, save perhaps for Raphael.

“I say we let him join us.” He started. “He should know everything about the castle. How the patrols work, who guards what, the strength of its knights and soldiers… Weak points.. even hidden passageways.”

“Child.” Edgar said gravely. “This is the man that raided the peninsula relentlessly for three years. He’s killed many a man, and many a soldier. You cannot possibly ask me to trust him”

“Just now, he could’ve killed you all, yet he didn’t. What could he gain from simply killing you later?” Melina added.

“You protected us with the barrier. It would’ve been a waste of strength of him to attack it. He must’ve seen the likes of it before.” Eitan retorted. “I agree with Lord Morne. He can’t be trusted.”

Lesta chuckled. “Oh- that it would’ve been.”

Melina fumed. *Whose side are you on?* She almost yelled at the knight, who seemed not to be taking this seriously.

“I must take you back to how his horse behaved a few days ago. Storm was hellbent on killing us, as he was.” Said Raphael, sheathing his sword. “However… Look at him now. He hasn’t moved.” Storm turned to Raphael momentarily, as if he understood what he said. “I felt this when Lord Morne first attacked, but this man doesn’t intend to kill us. He doesn’t even intend to fight us.”

Intent. Could Raphael see it too? Life. Will. Melina wondered. How could he have changed- matured so much in a matter of days?

The grafted knight didn’t speak. He only ran an armored hand over Storm’s mane.

“So you’re laying your trust on the behavior of a horse then. Oh great..” Eitan complained as he sheathed his sword as well, all in a frustrated motion.

“Well- if you’ve had one for long you must know that they often reflect their rider’s feelings, or at least react to them.” Raphael explained. “Is that the case for Storm?”

Eitan and Edgar turned their heads toward Lesta, with not so expectant gazes.

“Aye. Storm is like my spirit incarnate. He, as I, hasn’t been this calm in years. From the moment I denounced my father, he came back to me, calm as ever.”

“I trust you, Ser Lesta of Stormveil… I cannot promise any outcomes myself, but I shan’t raise my sword against you. I trust you won’t raise yours either.” Raphael exclaimed as he offered the knight a handshake.

Lesta had his arms crossed, so he offered one of his lower arms, shaking Raphael’s hand. Raphael looked bemused and oddly interested.

“I suggest we move forward as such then, Ser Lesta. Any demands or expectations you may have should be discussed with Lord Morne and Lord Haight. I cannot be certain that your ancestral seat will remain in your line, but you have my trust as well. I will fight alongside you, to take that tyrant down.” Instead of a handshake, Melina simply bowed her head. Lesta did as well, showing his respect.

Edgar approached him as well. Keeping his head high. Beads of sweat on his forehead. “I would’ve killed you by now if I had the strength to. But I’ll try to follow my allies’ choice and see if there’s any good in you.” He also shook the knight’s hand surprisingly.

The only one who didn’t was Eitan, who had already mounted his horse again.

He looked at the grafted knight balefully.

*He’ll need to do more than that to earn his trust then…* Melina thought to herself as she approached him. She felt the need to speak to him. Felt she had wronged him. Feelings were… Something about humanity she had nearly forgotten. This crushing guilt when in truth she knew she hadn't done anything wrong.

It must've been because of empathy. Sure, it was annoying at first, but living as a human had it's pleasures.. along with it's hardships.

*

Caria Manor, Moonchilde

According to Ranni, Moonchilde’s aptitude and capacity for magic rivalled her own. Even so-, he… couldn't quite see that yet.

He was astounded at the princess’s immense patience as he failed to cast simple spells time and time again.

At first she tried to have him conjure glintblades. Α Sorcery of the royal house of Caria commonly used by it's knights. One that summoned multiple floating spectral blades that protected their caster. They could also be used offensively, they could be ordered to chase the nearest moving target, which made them an extremely useful spell in multiple situations. Apparently it was one of the easiest to learn, but Moonchilde had trouble conjuring anything at all.

“Don't be discouraged.” Ranni spoke as she ran a hand (of which she had four) over his own.

For a moment, Moonchilde was astounded at the fact that he didn't find it to be an oddity. Then again, these enchanted eyes of his didn't see her simply as a physical form, but as an astral one. One far beyond this realm. And what he saw in her was a being more brilliant, more bright than any he had ever seen.

“It takes some scholars years to even cast their first spell after managing to call magic forth. Perhaps we’ll need to take things a bit slower.”

Ranni took hold of his right arm. “Can you feel this?”
She asked calmly.

“Can I feel you holding my arm?...”

“Yes. That.”

“I can. Yes.”

“Good. What about this?” She continued as she slightly altered the placement of her hand, moving to his forearm.

At first nothing was different, so Moonchilde almost responded without taking note of anything, but then he felt a surge of warmth, then cold.

“Is that- what I'm looking for? This sensation?” He asked her with a tinge of worry. He looked into her bright blue eyes. So lifelike, despite not being ‘real’.

“Not quite. Look deeper. Feel deeper.”

She responded as that feeling on his arm intensified. He looked into it, within it. Felt nothing.

“Try using your eyes. The gift they carry”

The one thing he'd managed to do when it came to magic was ‘see’ magic and it's sources. Liurnia was full of it. But he didn’t even need to see it to know. He could feel it around him. It was there, yet he couldn’t quite grasp its essence despite that.

He tried to feel what she was showing him. Tried to force his body to get a clearer image than a vague feel on his skin.

“Not with your body, Moonchilde. See with your mind”

Ranni exclaimed as she continued, her magic accumulating a soft layer of snow on his forearm.

He was getting frustrated. How would he see with his mind? A mind had no eyes. A mind couldn’t see.

“Perhaps thinking back to that mountain would help you? You said you wielded magic when you slayed that beast”

The princess suggested. So he tried.

Suddenly he pulled back. That sting returned in memory alone. A blinding pain in his skull and aches all over his body.

Ranni stilled as she stopped pouring magic into him.

“Odd…” She sat down on a bench on the side of the courtyard and motioned to the spot next to her. After Moonchilde sat down as well, she spoke.

“Do you still feel it? The pain.” She asked as she brought a hand on top of another.

“Not at all..” He explained. “It was just for a moment.”

“Sadly, I still didn’t feel or see what you were trying to show me.” Moonchilde admitted.

“As I said, it isn’t easy. Most mages only start to grasp magic long after they’ve first been exposed to it, and then, they still need a deep understanding of its course through the stars and themselves.” Something moved through the uncut grass in the courtyard. It let out a squeak before jumping out in the open. A brown little squirrel. It dug through the dirt in between loosened stone bricks before jumping back to the safety of the grass again. It must’ve been looking for food. Ranni took a moment to look at it, then got back to talking.

“Animals like this one make me miss my humanity… I cannot explain the feeling with a single word, but.. They always make me think that I should be feeling something.” The princess admitted.

Moonchilde glanced at her momentarily, seeing her expressionless form. He thought of the person she used to be. The person still there, in spirit.

“Did you like animals back then?”

He asked, turning back to the courtyard.

“Very much so, I suppose. I can recall that it wasn’t just fascination.. Though whatever feelings I had toward them are long gone…” She trailed off before continuing, as if she was lost in thought. “I used to tend to birds, rabbits, and cats myself… Of course, I outlived them by long… I remember crying when they eventually reached the conclusion of their cycles. Only before I moved into this vessel however… After that, I still cared for them, but never cried.. I no longer felt what I did in the past… I suppose I only took care of them out of habit.”

“Do you think a new vessel could change that? A living one, I mean.” The knight asked again.

“It will. Human bodies produce feelings, not the mind. The human experience is wholly false, contradictory, and illogical. What they care about and what matters are two different things, and all of that is based on how their bodies are structured. They believe things out of fear, out of love, out of hate… Their realities shaped completely based on something made them feel. Based on an initial, primal response. Even the people of Caria fall into this trap, despite believing in the fundamental truth of reality. What they feel toward this truth still stems from biological reasoning. Perhaps a feeling of belonging…”

Moonchilde listened to her monologue intently. He nodded along the way, but kept his head down and his eyes closed, thinking. “That may be so… I can’t disagree with you.. But there is a certain beauty in it. Sadness… Happiness… Love… Human unity… All of the emotions that define how we act… They’re beautiful to experience… In a way, they give our existence meaning. They create meaning in an otherwise meaningless, cold world of logic.”

Ranni didn’t look at him as she responded. “A biased response.. Though I can understand the sentiment. Only a true human could say that and mean it… And its true, at least partially. The longer I remained in this form, the more I started to feel off about what I was doing.. My goals.. The very reason I cast my body away… Now I continue simply because I started… Well-... For no reason. I could stop right now and it wouldn’t matter to me… I’ve lived my whole life believing it was my destiny to change the world order, only for me to realize the futility of it all… Still, we attach our emotions to destiny, human as we are… Emotions do not give meaning. They are not the fundamental form of meaning, save to perhaps the one that does the feeling. Otherwise, they are just a bodily function.”

“You have a beautiful mind…” Moonchilde said after not a long while of contemplation.

Ranni smiled. If this too was out of habit, he didn’t know. “Things such as this could make my old self blush.. Perhaps back then, I could share your view.”

“I apologize, that was out of line-.” Moonchilde admitted as he lowered his head. “I spoke on impulse.”

Ranni only shook her head. ”Maybe in another time, it would be. But I’m certain you can understand after this brief conversation of ours that I wouldn’t see a necessity to hide such thoughts from me. My social standing here only matters to the rest of my court. You may say what you want when we’re alone. I’ve no inclination when it comes to such social matters.”

“Still, my lady- Even conversing with you so freely-... The etiquette-.. Please, forgive me…” The knight said even though he realized the futility of his words. He trailed off by the end of his jambled sentence.

“I do forgive you, Moonchilde…” Ranni spoke quietly, bringing a hand to his. “Though still, there wouldn’t be a need to forgive you at all.”

The knight huffed. He saw it. She was playing along with him, to make him feel better. He decided it. The best thing he could do here was just let it go. He truly did want to speak to her, but if she saw no real reason behind it… Would it mean anything at all?

“That living vessel… Will you need it soon?” He changed the subject.

“Within the month…” She answered casually, taking her hand away from his.

“If you cannot procure an uninhabited one, I may be forced to take one with a passenger mind still within, or… Give up.”

Moonchilde didn’t want to think about what taking over a vessel with a passenger mind within entailed, yet somehow Ranni giving up shook him more.

“You would die…” He exclaimed.

“In the human sense. Indeed… Though my mind would simply cease, and this…” She motioned to her vessel. “Would simply be a human-sized doll.”

“That would not be ideal.” The knight said, noticing a bit of her in the way he spoke.

“Indeed, in regards to the plans and my… ‘destiny’” Ranni responded. “It would not.”

“And with the vessel, you could feel again..With the.. Body..”

“If it is functional. Yes.” She said coldly.

“Then I will procure it for you. Soon.” He promised, lifting himself up from the bench.

The princess reached a hand toward him, a gentle request to help her up as was customary here.

Even though Moonchilde had never done this before, and certainly not with a princess, he understood the meaning of it.

“Alright..” She allowed “But I wouldn’t like it if you died in this pursuit.. I still have time.”

“You are speaking in past tense. You wouldn’t have liked it… Back then.” The knight noted. In her words, she couldn’t feel anymore.

The princess nodded. “Always.”

Perhaps he could get used to thinking of her feelings in the past tense. Maybe that was how she kept going. Using a roadmap of what she would’ve felt.

“Then I’ll make sure that if I die, you’re able to feel for me, first.”

Ranni chuckled. “How villainous. You would harm me as such?”

Moonchilde furrowed his brows before realising what she meant. “No- no- of course not! I only meant-”

The princess took hold of his hand. “Don’t worry. I know well of your intentions in saying that…”

Despite looking a bit scared, Moonchilde continued. “I wish to walk around the manor, if I’m allowed. I’d like to use my body more before I leave… Preferably tomorrow. My blade should prove enough. It always has been.”

“You may go where you please. The servants I keep here are few and trusted for… Obvious reasons. The rest of our people think I suffer the same fate as my mother. Trapped in the manor due to some illness.”

Moonchilde raised a brow, yet Ranni spoke before he could. “Don’t worry. You won't find my mother in this manor. She resides in the academy of Raya Lucaria.. And as for the servants, they know who you are. If you require anything, they’ll happily provide it for you.”

“Now. I’ll go tend to something important. I’ll be back before nightfall.” And just like that, the princess disappeared into a mist of a light blueish hue, bringing frost and moonlight to his mind.

*

If he were to ignore the magical artifacts, family heirlooms and beautiful Carian architecture, the fact that this whole manor looked completely untouched would be the most interesting thing about it.

It was as if no one even lived here. After thinking about it, Moonchilde realized that no one really did. He couldn't think of something the servants would be doing on a daily basis if Ranni only existed as a sentient doll. She had no needs, or wants from the looks of it.

He doubted that she ever even slept…

“What a tragic existence…” He muttered to himself quietly, though one should note that he was not judging her for her situation. He barely knew anything about the princess, but she seemed the noble kind.

A being of truth… Despite feeling a tight connection to his “destiny” and newfound purpose, he didn't quite want to be like her. Pure logic. Logic, to it's core, kills meaning.

Moonchilde had never had these kinds of thoughts before. He never really had to- or, wasn’t encouraged to. His old life was about servitude, sacrifice, and knightly duty. The most thoughtful talks his brothers participated in were about the wars they fought or the women they lay with. It didn’t differ much from what his sisters had to say, if someone were to expect that, for some reason. The knights and soldiers of Leyndell, men and women, were not quite as golden as they were presented to be. They were shallow, sinful, and vulgar. All those things, yet still inexorably human, and he knew he couldn’t blame or criticize them for it. They didn’t get to choose their lives, or the way they saw the world. The Golden Order gave nary a chance.

“Are you lost, ser?” An even, playful voice sounded from behind him.

Moonchilde turned to see what looked like a young woman. Couldn’t have been older than 25 years old. Her black hair was beautifully set in a braid over her shoulder, reaching her lower abdomen.

Her eyes were a light blue hue, their shape sharp, yet the rest of her face looked soft and exuded a certain childishness he couldn’t quite place.

She played with the braid for a few seconds before hauling it over her back.

“I uh… Not exactly. Not yet, at least.” The knight responded reluctantly. Was she one of the servants Ranni mentioned? She definitely didn’t look like one, that was certain. She wore a deep blue robe, intricate markings sewn onto it with silver string. A red silken scarf lay around her neck. It sure looked cozy. To the point where Moonchilde envied it.

The robe parted in the middle, revealing a shining silver chestplate. It was of light make, and appeared as if its purpose was mostly vanity rather than combat. All of these pointed to high status, perhaps royalty or nobility, but Ranni hadn’t mentioned anything like that.

“Oh- well then, if you ever find yourself to be lost just call for me. I should hear you. My name is Lisevinde, but you can call me Lise.” She exclaimed enthusiastically, leaning forward and grinning.

“Its nice t-” Moonchilde started.

“Oh- and I’m a sorceress here. I studied at the academy of Raya Lucaria, but princess Ranni saw me fit to be tutored personally. I must admit though, it has been a while since our last lesson” Lisevinde interrupted.

“My name is-”

“Geralt- or Moonchilde? I heard! I’ve been dying to meet you actually- Say, that magic you used against the Fallingstar Beast- What was it? Perhaps a type of gravity magic? You said you immobilized it and then crushed it? That must mean that ‘gravity magic’ is a misleading name. It can empower objects, in this case your hand! I wonder if it could be applied without contact. Perhaps the name ‘force magic’ would be more fitting? Don’t you agree? So what was it?” Lisevinde went on a rant. Moonchilde gathered that she must like magic very much. She looked at him expectantly until she noticed his expression.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. “Do you feel unwell?”

Moonchilde waited to see if she’d say something else before continuing.

“No… But to answer your… Many questions- I don’t know. I don’t use magic. Or rather, I can’t. I don’t know how I did back then.” The knight explained. He lowered his head. It wasn’t a pleasant memory, despite the awakening he experienced.

“A pity- Perhaps you aren’t smart enough? It is well known that intelligence plays a major role in the power of a mage, but even more so in their ability to channel magic in general.”
Moonchilde furrowed his eyebrows.

“Do you make a habit out of casually insulting people?” He asked warily. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Not to say that he didn’t hear insults all day living in the barracks, but he’d never heard a noblewoman speak as such. He knew it happened, but Ser Wyll always portrayed them as backstabbing snakes, choosing to imply their insults.

Lisevinde tilted her head, her braid swaying with it. Light blue eyes betrayed confusion.

“I didn’t insult you- or…” She brought a finger to her face, scratching her lower lip as she thought. “Ah- Is this a situation in which a person is insulted by my search for the truth? Not because of what I intended to ask but because of their own shortsightedness concerning the subject matter? I did not mean to insult- But I cannot help it if that was the case.”

She spoke again after a pause, seeing as Moonchilde just stood there. “I meant that your intelligence- your ability to understand magic, may be low, thus affecting your effectiveness in casting magic.”

“No, no- I know what you meant.” Moonchilde corrected.

“Brilliant!” Lisevinde cheered, clasping her hands together.

“I’ll go now. I’ll call for you if I end up getting lost. As you sugg-”

“Wonderful! I’ll be around!” She interrupted again, latching something off of her belt. A silver staff. She rubbed a light blue crystal at its tip as she walked past Moonchilde.

When he looked back, she wasn’t there anymore.

“Weird girl…” He spoke to himself.

*

Perhaps some company wouldn’t be so bad, even if it was Lisevinde. The manor was quiet. Too quiet. It was as if all sound and life was kept out of its walls. After thinking about it for a few moments he came to the conclusion that a spell that did exactly that wouldn’t be beyond the Carians.

They used magic all around this manor anyway. He could feel it around him. Like some sort of background noise. Like how he registered rain when indoors. It appeared as if it materialized sometimes, or rather in certain places. He could see fragments of it wafting through the air in a light blue-greenish mist. He gathered that since this magic was found around the chandeliers, it kept them lit. And… Floating.

“Weird..” The further down this specific hallway he ventured, the more the magical presence he could feel. It felt as if the source of this intensity was at the end of the hall.

Bookshelves lined the walls to his left and right, and a red carpet stretched over the hallway’s length, all the way to the end… All the way to a door.

There was no lock, no hinges, no handle, just a wall that… He knew was a door to somewhere. The way the magic gathered around it betrayed space behind it, around it. It looked like it had been carved into an existing wall.

Moonchilde set his palm on it. It sure felt like wood. Upon pushing it felt completely immovable.

“Hm..” His natural curiosity drew him to examine it. The magic around it. It was spread all around the surface, but mostly gathered in the middle, right in front of him. Upon moving his hand to that spot, he felt something surge through him, much like blood, but not quite.

After seconds, the flowing sensation soured. It scratched, clawed, and singed him from the inside. Moonchilde withdrew his hand, though not in panic. Just confusion.

What happened didn’t hurt, definitely not physically. It just felt tiring.. As if something had been pulled away from him. His mind even memorized the exact sensation. He could even feel his grasp on whatever it was that the wall took away from him.

It was like holding on to a smooth rope, one that endlessly churned and flowed, but his hold on it wasn’t strong enough.

The clump of visible energy on the wall was larger now… Only one assumption could be made

“It took some of my magic… Huh.. So I do have it after all.”

He boldly shoved his hand onto the magical point again, and let that connection happen again. The source of the magic on the wall, and his own magic. The rope established itself between them, but this time, he held on to it.

He felt nothing ominous at first. In fact, the magic appeared to be surging toward him.

“So far so good…”

He tried to pull, but was met by an unimaginable resistance. As if he was tugging on a rope tied to a mountain.

Moonchilde kept the connection stable. The odd stinging feeling didn’t seem to be happening, so he assumed he was doing something right.

He looked at the magical point more closely, felt the energies dancing with each other.

Not one, not two… But three. This magical point was made out of three different energies… Types of magic… no. Spells. This had to be some sort of lock.

He looked at his hand. The magic was pouring into it, but remaining there. It didn’t join the rest of his reservoir, but simply stood there, and flowed back, as if he only had partial access to it.

The spells differentiated themselves with colors in his eyes. Blue, light blue, and green. They all served the same purpose. Become as entangled as possible to keep the wall sealed.

That would work, but only if someone were pulling against the whole thing, their combined strength. What if he…

“You… Right there.”

He imagined himself pinching out one strand of the rope at a time. He picked the green one, for no particular reason. He couldn’t believe it, but it came loose. In deep concentration, he continued, picking apart the blue one, and then the-... Oh.

Without another spell to keep it in place, the original strand simply disintegrated. The magic on the wall was now dormant, yet as Moonchilde opened his eyes, there was no wall. Only the inside of a room.

“What the..”

The room was quite spacious. As he walked in, there was a queen size bed directly on his right, though not quite as they tended to be constructed in Leyndell. It was made of a dark type of wood, and carved carefully. Depictions of the phases of the moon were carved into the headrest.

Such symbols were all over the room. Painted onto the wall, and scribbled into an open journal. Moonchilde walked closer and inspected the journal. The sketch on it was that of a giant full moon over the lands between, the Erdtree nowhere to be seen. He went to turn the page back, but it wouldn’t budge, as if the journal was completely made out of rocks.

It was a form of sealing magic again, though he instinctively undid it this time.

What he saw on the page behind the sketch was a wall of writing. Beautiful curved, cursive writing.

‘The time nears, though I don’t know if I’m ready. I’ve followed my path, played my part.. Must destiny feel so evil? The gods of this age must die for the coming of the blue moon… For an age of stars. An age of truth and not illusion… But why must I carry this burden alone?...”

The page appeared tear stained.

The other page read:

‘Polaris died.. I found his lifeless little body where I find him every day… I knew this day would come, but I wasn’t ready. Not at this time. Perhaps I’m being punished for what I’m planning..’

Moonchilde turned the page back. It would be obvious that someone had entered this room. What with the seals missing.

Ranni must’ve kept this hidden for a reason. Perhaps it was her room.. And her journal.
The knight looked around again. There was a portrait on the wall. One of a beautiful young scholar… Hair of red, eyes of blue with a gaze more fiery than their color would suggest, and soft, delicate features. Could this be her, before she cast her body aside?

“How on earth did you do that?” An enthusiastic voice sounded behind him.

If Moonchilde had a sword on him, he would’ve definitely cut whoever it was in half with it a moment later.

“Oh- Lisevinde. It’s you… I’m uh- not uh-...” Moonchilde stuttered. He didn’t know if he was allowed to be here.

“Oh so you must be intelligent after all! Where’s your staff? Which staff did you use? What kind of crystal did you attach to it? I prefer to use a lighter crystal because my magic tends to move slowly- so with that crystal having a lower expenditure rate it complements me quite well-”

“I didn’t use a staff- I just..” Moonchilde trailed off. In fact, he understood nothing of what Lisevinde was saying. Not only that- but he wanted to retract his previous statement about wanting company.

“That’s impossible, Moonchilde. Magic cannot be wielded without a staff.” Lisevinde said, more as a statement than to him.

“Maybe you can’t.” The knight toyed. Lisevinde however didn’t bite. She either didn’t take it as an insult (although he said it jokingly), or she simply didn’t understand.

“I definitely can’t.. But-... How did you solve the seal? It was three pronged. It’s impossible to know where each spell ends.. The only way to break it is to overpower the caster… Which was Princess Ranni.. Did you-...” The young woman exclaimed, looking at him in awe.

“Sorry to disappoint, but no. I don't think I could’ve overpowered her. I did try though. It felt impossible.”

“Yet you did it-... So you must’ve solved it instead of broken it… It took me a whole night to undo her double pronged seal-... And she made sure it was simple so I could train… To solve a three pronged one… You must have studied magic before! Where? Couldn’t have been the academy, I would have known. Maybe with one of the masters?” Lise brainstormed, trying to understand how on earth Moonchilde could’ve achieved this feat. She paced around the room in thought, muttering.

“The different spells in the seal were quite obvious to me.” The knight admitted. “They were similar, but key differences appeared… I could differentiate them by color.”

Lisevinde stilled. “The fourth law of magic. No one spell can be identical to another, even if of the same kind. That holds, but the differences are few and far between- a small margin of error in magic control from one spell to another is nearly undetectable…”

“I don’t really understand what you’re saying” Moonchilde said with a smile.

“Please let me study magic with you!” Lisevinde pleaded, holding her staff with both hands.

“But I don’t know how to use magic… Other than when it comes to breaking seals, I mean…”

Lise shook her head. “No, no. You know much more than you understand. This is comparable to what Princess Ranni could do. I knew you’d be special, but you’re extraordinary!”

In all honesty, Moonchilde had just hoped he could go to bed, or at least rest. Perhaps read a book.

“Alright…” He resigned. “But I have to apologise to the princess for entering this room afterwards.”

“I don’t think she’ll care much” The young sorceress explained. “She’ll be more interested in how you managed to do it.”

“Either way..” The knight said, his tone defeated. It’d be a long day.

*
“Alright, so from what you’ve explained, I gathered that you managed to interact with magic without weaving your own. You also said you’re aware of your own reservoir, which is amazing! It took me a whole year to manage to weave my own magic.” Lisevinde rambled. “(And I was the best in my class. Granted, they had to move me up two classes when I did that)” She whispered.

She had taken him to her room. Moonchilde’s first thought was how in the world he hadn’t been able to sense it. The magical presence of all of the artifacts she owned was intense. Various staffs of different makes and different crystals, various glintstone crystals adorning the walls, magical scrolls and tomes taxonomized in… Alphabetical order?... It almost felt overwhelming to him. How he wished his eyes could be unlit like a torch.

The young sorceress looked him in the eyes expectantly… Almost like how the children back in Leyndell stared at the animals they’d brought in for display once. “Alright.. I guess I’ll perform for her then” He thought to himself.

“You must be pretty smart then, eh?” Moonchilde asked, playing along.

Lise didn’t even come close to catching wind of his acting. Instead, she nearly puffed herself up like male pigeons do, full of confidence and pride, the subtle smile on her face showing her satisfaction at hearing these words. “That I have to be. I wouldn’t understand magic otherwise.”

“Yes, it’s clear to me. How else would you be so good at it.. I reckon that’s how you get around without me noticing too. How you seem to appear and disappear at will. That must be magic too, right?” Moonchilde continued. It appeared as if Lise got more excited with each word he spoke.

“Yes! Yes! Its magic! I mean- no one else knows about it. I make sure to keep it a secret, but its my own spell. A variety of spells really” Lisevinde said with a bright smile. The knight found himself enjoying conversation with her, despite himself.

“Maybe you could teach me? Or at least tell me what your spells are.” Moonchilde offered. He did need to find a teacher, but a prodigy (from the looks of it) like Lise would definitely be a good choice.

“Oh- Uhm.. Well no one has ever seen me use them outside of sparring. I like to keep the mystique… And- it also gives me multiple tactical advantages if you really think about it”

Lise’s demeanor didn’t change despite the initial refusal.

“I understand. It’s wise to not show your arsenal to enemies… Though- it could be interesting if we could both access the same spells.” He rebutted.

Lise’s fascination was obvious. She played with her braid as she thought to herself. “Thats true… And it would help me find any existing weaknesses in my spells… I see.. If you promised not to be seen using them… If you take a vow of secrecy!” She spoke in a crescendo, as if the conclusion brought her immense joy.

“I’d be honored to learn from a sorceress as hard-working as you.” The knight said as he bowed.

“Great! Let’s start right now then” Lise exclaimed as she moved toward her bookcase. She looked through various tomes of varying sizes. Moonchilde felt tired just by thinking about reading through one of them. “Sit there.” Lisevinde ordered as she pointed to the chair by her desk. On it were arrays of papers filled with magical calculations, hypotheses and data gathered. Some beyond Moonchilde’s level of understanding, and some as simple as ‘The Glintstone Pebble sorcery interacts directly with matter. It’s physical impact is quite low, but a normal human would be damaged by a relatively high speed magically generated pebble… Even so, the spell is so rudimentary that it could be replaced by throwing a naturally occurring pebble at the target. I’ll prefer using the spell though. I’d look better doing so.’

“SO!” Lise started, having collected a ton of books. She set them on the desk in front of Moonchilde before gathering all of the papers and setting them aside (In no apparent order). She then slammed a book in front of him.
“Simple Sorceries, Master Azur’s Overview of Glintstone.”
And another.

“A History of Caria’s Sorcery. Martial Spells and Their Uses”

And a final one.

“This is my favorite. Sorceries of the Stars and Moon, our Understanding of Celestial Summoning”

Moonchilde glanced at the books, then at her. Bewildered. “Do I have to read… All of these?”

Lisevinde put the first one in front of him. “Ideally, you would have read them already, but yes. All of them. You can start with Simple Glintstone Sorceries though.”

She skipped over a few pages to a chapter called ‘Casting of Glintstone Magic.’

“These spells are simple. Their main characteristic is the forward flow of magic, out from your reservoir with no need for shaping within it. The shaping happens outwardly, meaning that you have to take care concerning how your energy materializes. While casting a simple ‘Glintstone Pebble’ for example, you want to shape a small rock out of your energy by combining a forward flow with moderate spin as it exits. Then, you slowly add push toward a single point in the middle. Got it?” Lisevinde turned her eyes to him after finishing. “Come on, try it.”

“Wait- I understand the ‘flow’ just fine.. I think.” That must’ve been what he felt when the seal pulled some magic away from him. “Does the flow you speak of feel like… A burning sensation?”

Lise’s eyes widened. “Yes! When your magic capacity is low, or your magic is being forcefully extracted, it should feel like your paths are burning. Paths being the astral highway our magic flows from.”

“Could you do it first? I might find it easier if I’ve seen you do it first.” Moonchilde asked.

“Hm… Alright… Trying it yourself is the best course, but I’ll show you first.” Lise picked up her staff. Within a second, a greenish blue pebble formed at the tip of her staff and flung itself onto his head.

“Ow-” Moonchilde exclaimed, slightly frustrated. “How is that helping, at all? Slower, please?”

Lise chuckled. “Okay.” This time, Moonchilde could see the magic exiting the crystal. Lise’s magic was nearly clear, almost a white hue. It moved forward before spinning around a single point. As the spinning vortex started to converge, it became physical. It appeared as if though her personal magic was becoming another type of magic, taking on a new color, creating a distinction. Within a few seconds it was a perfectly formed greenish blue magical pebble. The knight was staring intently. He thought he could do it now.

“Okay- I’ll tr- OW” He cried out as the pebble bounced off his head.

“Don’t let your guard down. Some thinking is allowed at all times, but your mind must always be aware, especially when a threat has been established.” Moonchilde glanced at Lise. For the first time since he met her, she looked extremely serious. “Anyway, go ahead!” The serious expression however, was gone in a single moment, replaced by a wide grin. “Show me your glorious magic!”

Enthusiastic much? Moonchilde wasn’t so sure that this magic of his would be glorious. A little floating rock was the best possible outcome anyway.

“Okay… Outward flow…” Moonchilde said without actually doing anything. He simply held his hand out and tried to feel what he did when he accessed the three-pronged seal. The ‘rope’ was still there, but dimmer somehow. It was not readily accessible. He supposed he wanted to push it away this time instead of pulling it toward him. That’d be outward flow.

He tried to grasp it again, yet it was further away.

“Uhm… The book says to use outward flow- not… Passive… Or.. are you’re just standing there doing nothing?..” Lise said as she neared him, angling her head.

Moonchilde didn’t respond. He only reached for the ‘rope’ with greater effort. Success! He caught it, felt its warm flow. It was quite intense. Different than last time. Perhaps his connection to the seal affected how his magic flowed. Okay. Outward flow.

He pushed the rope away, yet lost his grip on it immediately. He kept his eyes closed in concentration, trying to hold on to the magic he must’ve sent out.

“Woah! Wait- It IS possible- but wait, wait, wait- you’re casting a simple spell- The amount of magic is- more than enough for ten- no, twenty pebbles-”

Lisevinde was talking to him, half excited, half worried. Moonchilde couldn’t really hear her. He only focused on applying the spin and forcing the energy inward.

A lot of it escaped him in the process, but some remained, some must’ve.

“Okay- It’s enough- this is definitely not a pebble anymore- you can stop now.”

A bit more, and it’d be ready. A tangible projectile, ready to be sent away. Perhaps he’d aim it at her head?

The spin stopped by itself as the spell stabilized, materialized into a pebble. It had to be done now. He’d managed to make a real pebble! His first spell!

As soon as he opened his eyes, he let the ‘rope’ go, releasing the spell toward Lisevinde, who already had her hand on her staff.

“OH- MARIKA’S-”
She shouted as her staff’s crystal glowed, dispersing his spell. Moonchilde looked around, disappointed.

“Oh.. In all honesty I hoped I would’ve gotten you back for the pebbles to the head.. I’m assuming you managed to deflect it because you were ready despite thinking, just like you said to do a few moments ago.”

The young sorceress was breathing heavily. “Yes- that’s true, I’m always ready… But- But- That was NO PEBBLE!” She yelled at him, chuckling afterward. “Oh my-... That could’ve killed me.”

Moonchilde stilled. “What? No. I realize I released more magic than I wanted to, but it couldn’t have been that much..”

“Right- And you’re a master at measuring your flow.” Lise playfully mocked. “Look. Right there. That’s where your spell is.” She pointed out of the window.

He looked, and to his surprise, his spell was right there, suspended in the air. A greenish-blue glintstone crystal twice the size of his head.

“That look like a pebble to you?” Lisevinde said as she kept her staff up toward it, its crystal still glowing. “It’s extraordinary… You cast that without a staff, and with no traceable fatigue.”

“I did that?” Moonchilde asked her as he stood up, getting a better look at it.

“Yep. Wait until you see what it’ll do as soon as it touches matter.” Lise continued as she thrust her wand forward. The spell flew toward a dead tree outside of the courtyard. It was upon it within seconds.

Splinters and bark flew everywhere as the spell crashed into it with a loud boom. Lisevinde clapped excitedly. “Congratulations! That was a Glintstone Comet! I can’t pretend to understand how you were able to cast it. I was about to tell you to pick a staff, but you were already trying so it wouldn’t hurt to see whether or not you could truly cast magic without one.”

Moonchilde remained frozen in awe. He looked down at his hands. His fingers.

A lingering deep blue glow danced in the palm of his right hand.

“That’s your personal magic. That deep blue characterizes it as heavy. It’s at its best when used for energy-hungry spells.”

The sorceress turned her head toward the door. “Someone’s here… The Preceptor… That was to be expected. The old fart is allergic to fun..”

The door slammed open as two tall figures marched in. They were practically filled with magic, though like Ranni, they were not alive. They however, did not look the part. Or rather, theirs was another kind of lifelessness. They both wore long blue robes, though they weren’t particularly well maintained. They wore masks on their faces, just like the figure behind them. He, however, was alive.

“This is unacceptable, Lisevinde, unacceptable. What would Princess Ranni think? What?” The man rambled as he barged into the room, the two sentries stepping aside to make way for his bulky frame. “I have told you time and time again to be careful with your experiments. If this is to happen again I’ll take the matter directly to-”

The Preceptor stopped as soon as he noticed Moonchilde standing next to the sorceress.

“The Moonchilde… As I live and breathe…” The man moved toward him and bowed slightly. “An honor to meet you, destined one. We have been waiting for your arrival for thousands of moons.. You may call me Seluvis.. I’m but a humble servant to the house of the full moon. You and I have many important things to discuss.. I suggest we start immediately. Matters of purpose. Matters of destiny. Of possibly… Changing it.”

Moonchilde glanced at Lise, who was visibly annoyed.

“I believe you were in the middle of scolding me?...” She said suddenly, her arms crossed.

“Quiet child. Your deeds shall not go unpunished, but there are more pressing matters.” The Preceptor explained. “Now. I suggest that we speak of this at the top of my tower.” The man pointed outside, near the tree that exploded just minutes ago.

“There are many steps to take, and only you can take them.” He finished as he disappeared, his sentries going with him.

Lisevinde didn’t wait long before talking. “Can you believe he claims that spell to be his? I only showed it to him since he was my master, but he presented it to the academy. Unbelievable.” The knight wasn’t really listening to her. He was more interested in why Seluvis would say what he did. Destiny could be subverted.. Did he mean Ranni’s destiny? Or his own? If so, perhaps she wouldn’t have to live like this anymore.. Though why did she in the first place?

“Hey-. Are you in there?” Lise said as she poked him.

“Yes- Yes.” Moonchilde affirmed as he started walking for the exit. “I have to go. I have to talk to Ranni.”

Lise nodded. She didn’t say another word before turning to her books.

He had to know more. More about why she was doing this in the first place. More about that guilt she felt. What could be so bad that she deserved punishment for? Surely she would tell him.

Chapter Text

Lord Morne’s company had finally reached fort Haight. With the Grafted Knight in tow, the two leaders had much to talk about. Eitan’s ears even caught wind of matters having to do with the succession of the throne of Limgrave. Would these men think themselves worthy of the station of a demigod?

Eitan had set up camp a ways away from the main road, preferring privacy. No bandits in their right minds would attack an armed unit, so he wouldn’t be in danger.

“Apparently… Sorális, Yura and Kalé have set off to kill Godrick.” Melina said as she approached Eitan’s campsite.

The warrior was setting up a fire. He’d placed all of the sticks and logs where they needed to be. He only had to light it.

Melina ran a hand over the unlit wood and sparked a flame with ease. Eitan simply put his flint and steel back into his pack. “Thanks.” He muttered as he sat by the rising flames.

“Nothing to say?” The maiden asked before sitting down on a log across from Eitan.

He only shook his head in response, a sour expression on his face. “I’ll be glad if they’re not dead by the time we reach them. Why everyone is so keen on dying is something I fail to grasp.” He kept his eyes on Melina as he scurried through his pack. Looking for something.

“I’d say its worth it.. Even if we seem keen on dying… Its worth it. For change.” The maiden spoke, bringing her hands close to the fire, their heat seemingly giving her a semblance of comfort.

“Foolish.. If you’re not in the world after it’s changed, what is it worth?” Eitan asked as he took a whetstone from his back and brought it to his sword, running it against one edge.

“It’d be worth everything if I knew that you’re still alive, living in that change… Thriving..”

Eitan could swear he could see directly into her soul through her eyes as the flames glinted in them.

“That… would be comforting to me too. To know that even if I died, I died so you could live. So you could be happy.. Then again, we could all leave. Go somewhere else. I’ve heard tell of lands that are peaceful. Beyond the badlands.. Beyond the land of Reeds. Peace can be found.”

“Peace can also be achieved.” Melina spoke calmly. “The others… Me too… We fight for different reasons, but at the pinnacle of it all… Stands change. Hope for a better world for us, our loved ones… You see, when I first met you I had lost all hope. I had given up on my mission completely, but your drive gave me hope. You wanted to reach Leyndell in order to see if your father survived. You wanted to help your friends survive.. At first I came with you out of habit, perhaps need, but that changed when I saw you fight for what you believed in. Don’t act as if you wouldn’t put your life on the line, because you have! And I know you’d do it again.”
Eitan was in the middle of a grind on his sword. He stopped and held the whetstone in hand “...I was hunting down a murderer, and even then I did it vengefully… Change wasn’t my goal there.” He admitted before going back to grinding. “My father definitely wouldn’t approve of that..”

“Would he approve of this, though? Eitan, you don’t need to be wise to realize Godrick isn’t a good man. Would he let this happen? Would he allow Limgrave to be terrorized?”

“No.” The warrior grunted.”My father is an oddity. He would encourage you to fight alongside him if he was in my place. After all, the safest place to be is right next to him.” Eitan flashed a somber smile. “He’s not wrong, you know. But I’m not as strong as he is.”

Melina stood up and made her way to him, sitting right next to him. “You can be. I’ve told you how I can help you grow stronger. The essence that animates all beings in this stale land… I’ve some control over it. You’ve already become dramatically more powerful. You must’ve noticed it yourself.”

“Of course I have… Ever since you proposed this accord I’ve wondered.. Why me out of everyone else? Why would you need to have me reach tremendous heights if you only intend to reach Leyndell? Surely we would have no issue walking there..”

“I see. So you’ve thought of it, too. Perhaps I should’ve been more honest.” Melina huffed as she placed a hand on his.

Eitan moved his hand. He kept on sharpening his blade. “What we did the other day, your actions after that.. Melina. I must admit I’m confused. I can’t help but feel that there’s a lot of things you’re not telling me.” Saying just that, was an understatement.

“There are… And I cannot say more than what I will now, but… I want you to claim the Elden Ring.”

“What?” Eitan said suddenly. He dropped his sword on the side and turned to face her directly. He pointed a finger at the Erdtree, which was glowing brightly in the night sky.

The maiden only nodded. “With your skill and my powers we could do something big.. We could change the lands between, Eitan.”

“Has this been your intent all this time?” Eitan asked, bouncing his leg. “I’m just asking if this has been your plan ever since we first met because-... I mean I can see it. That kiss the other day? Did it mean anything at all, or was it just you trying to get me to ‘go with your flow?’.”

Melina didn’t respond immediately. She only sat there, her amber eyes glued to his. Only when he was finished and waiting did her lips part. “I have tried it before… With others. The tarnished are known to be destined to change our world.”

“Our kiss… I haven’t shared anything like that with anyone for many years.. What we’ve started.. Is something I shouldn’t have allowed.. But I’m not sure I can stop it now.”

Eitan only looked into her eyes. Beheld that quiet fire with all that he was. He could only hope he wasn’t being roped into this. That she had avoided telling him the truth was undeniable, but he’d be lying if he said he truly thought she was a nobody, just a travelling faithful. Just her magic tied her to both divine and heretical lines. What exactly that said about her he didn’t know. He only should’ve thought it through more, he should’ve told her something, he should’ve confronted her.

It really did feel like it was too late to do anything about it. Even more so as he kept on looking at her face. She was so close he couldn’t hold back from reaching for her. He cupped her cheek with a hand and caressed it with his thumb. Melina only gave him a gentle smile as she brought her hand to his and squeezed it.

“I’d forgotten what it means to live…” She leaned into his touch as she spoke. “With you, somehow.. I’ve found that again.”

He still didn’t know what else to say to her. He was worried about her, concerned about where she was leading him, yet still very fond of her. He didn’t want to push her away. He only hoped she was truly genuine. He only hoped this wasn’t a lie.

“I feel the same way…” He admitted as he allowed his emotions to embrace him completely.

He let out a shuddering breath as her forehead pressed onto his. Strands of red hair grazing over his face.

“I’ve thought of it too.. Leaving the Lands Between behind and just… Running away with you somewhere. But I can’t abandon my mission.. I want you by my side… Surely, you’re the one I’ve been looking for… I’ve never felt like this toward anyone else..” The maiden whispered to him before adjusting herself to place a kiss onto his lips.

Eitan could do naught but accept it as he felt her fire creeping through his mind and body; His whole being set aflame as her lips parted and her tongue met his.

Her hand reached for the back of his head in silent, desperate need. A need for closeness… Love… Change.

The moment passed, but the fire didn’t fade. The maiden caressed the back of his head as she pulled back, staring into his eyes. “This is real… So real that it scares me, Eitan.. I’m not supposed to be doing any of this.. Telling you any of this… But I want to. I really do. And I promise you that soon enough, all will be laid bare. You will know more of who I am by the time I have to truly fulfil my mission… So that I may always be with you..”

“You speak as if you intend to pass away.” Eitan said with a troubled expression, eliciting a sad smile from her.

“No, no. I don’t intend to.. But it may be dangerous for me.. catastrophic. So I’ll ask you.. Perhaps selfishly.. Please stay… Even if you fear for my well being.. Especially if you do..”

“I don’t want to leave.. But it will be easier to stay knowing you’re not going into something blindly..” Eitan sighed. “It is plain to see that you’ve put a lot of thought into your actions, so I won’t question you.. I would be happy if this day of clarity you speak of comes sooner rather than later. I want to know you.”

Melina kept her eyes downward. She took a deep breath as she took her hand away from the back of his head and placed it on his hand, pulling it into her lap. “You do know me. You’ll know more of me with time, but I can’t go faster than this. I hope you’ll understand.”

“I do.. It’s alright. I place my trust in you. In you knowing better. Your choice may be perilous, but it doesn’t stop being yours. I want you to act as you will to act, so… I’ll go to war with you, and for you. For change, Melina. Because in a better world… you wouldn’t have to take upon your mission, whatever it may be.”

Melina smiled solemnly. “It may be so. But someone-... I. Need to do this at least once. So there may be change. So that this stagnation ends. The Tarnished may try all they want, but if I don’t reach the foot of the erdtree to fulfil my duty, they won’t be able to enter it. Not without great sacrifice.. Not without taking the world with them.”

“And you think we could do this together? Enter the Erdtree?” Eitan said gently. Quietly.

“Yes.” Melina responded. “And I could be certain that he who shapes the new world order doesn’t create something like this again, or something worse. Our world requires a certain balance.. I think you can understand that.”

Eitan nodded. “That’s how the land I was raised in was.. Brutal, unforgiving.. But not stale. Death was a common occurrence, as was life. What Queen Marika gave the lands between is nothing short of a curse. The people come back… Keep on coming back, though as less of themselves each time.. There’s no longer a need to be remembered, as no one ever leaves for good.” The warrior caressed her hands gently. “But why won’t you shape the world? You seem to understand how it should be.”

“My fate is not as simple as that.. I can be by your side while we drive the gods away. The very gods that decided things are good as they are, since the world order gives them immortality. The very gods that refuse to save the world, even though they have the power to do so. But… Beyond that. I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think that by my very nature, I’ll make things right.”

Eitan wondered if she was simply being very pessimistic, or speaking literally.

“We’ll figure these things up as they rise to meet us.. For now.. We have a war to fight, and people to save.” He exclaimed. Melina nodded in agreement as she pulled away.

“It’s best we both get some sleep then.” She suggested, keeping her hands in her lap.

“Right.” Eitan spoke, picking up his sword and sheathing it. “You can stay here with me..” He continued, despite his reservations. A desire for closeness still tugging at his mind.

Melina smiled at him knowingly. “You don’t have another bedroll, do you?”

“That’s not a problem, is it?” He asked as he unstrapped parts of his armor.

“Not at all” She chuckled as she planted a kiss on his cheek.

*
Stormveil Castle Ramparts

Sorális, Yura

“I fight for a bloodless world. Many a soul have taken the path you took, Sorális. Your position is still advantageous, as you appear to be less affected by this cursed blood, but… Most of my people weren’t so lucky. Their innate propensity for bloodlust far exceeds that of the normal person.. The greatest example of this was Okina, the Demon. He was once a venerable swordsman that fought for his lord.” Yura’s face soured as he recalled the warrior. “But… He had to fight countless battles on his behalf. So many that he forgot what he fought for. All that remained was that thirst for blood, born only out of self preservation. Out of habit. That man had many disciples, many young blades that aspired to be as he was… Had I myself awakened to my purpose then, I would have hunted him as I would have any bloody finger.”

Sorális stood and listened, her black hair blowing back in the wind. She left her straight strands unbraided. This wasn’t the time for grooming, but somehow… She didn’t even care that it was different. It didn’t even matter. She shoved the hair ornament Haight’s blacksmith made for her into a pocket. It was of no use now.

“I was afraid, Yura… There’s someone else within me. Someone that’s not me.. Someone that has the ability to take over me, albeit briefly.” The huntress explained, her tone flat, nearly emotionless, reflecting her numb mental state. “I don’t know if I am myself. I don’t know who I am. The one that woke up on the beach. The one that met Kale, and Yura, and Raphael. The one who defeated Nerijus… The one who called a hunter of fingers her friend… I fear that… This is not MY body… The memories I see of the past? They’re not mine… That’s why they’re so difficult to find. They’re not of my mind, but of my body. I’m simply an intruder.. A fake.”

“Yet you question this… You cannot be a fake. You are Sorális, a thinking, breathing being. You stand before me as I stand before you.” Yura tried to explain, but she knew the truth, and it wasn’t this.

“She’s taken over Yura.. This is her body, and I’m only allowed existence within.. I saw her past. The torture she endured.. The pain she caused.. The lives she’s taken and the excitement it gives her. I’ve seen so much… So much that doesn’t help me see me.”

“What if you’re seeing YOU, right now, Sorális?” He tried to reason.

Sorális glanced at him sideways. “You had no difficulty accepting this.. You knew, didn’t you?”
Yura held his breath. “I realized back at Fort Haight. It was for about an hour..” He spoke as he turned directly to her, completely unafraid of any reaction. “We ate with her, Kale and I. Whoever it was… She mimicked you well enough. I would assume she’s listening, even now.. The Pale Bloody Finger… Sorális..”

“A monster then… I’ve always been one.. No wonder Its so easy for me to kill.” Sorális muttered to herself, turning around and watching over the old cemetery. A graveyard of demigods.. Godrick’s lineage.

“You don’t have to.” Yura said as he moved closer to her. She could have sworn she heard a blade being unsheathed.. It must’ve been the wind, she thought to herself. It did as it pleased up here after all.

 

“Do you think I could stop?...” The huntress said with tears in her eyes, truly hoping that sound was a blade. “Do you think this monster would ever stop?.... She enjoys it Yura. She’d kill you as well. You, too, are just blood and nothing more. A sack of flesh that carries more of her future power. More enjoyment.”

“Your best course of action would be to kill her…Swiftly, and without forethought… It’d be easy, for you I think.” Sorális continued, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’d be sad to let life go… But… If this body harbors such a monster… Why should it live?” She said as she whimpered, her fingers pushing into her silver armor, hurting.

Yura didn’t respond for a long while. It was long enough that Sorális started to wonder whether or not he was still there. Something clicked shut. “There must be other ways.” Yura said shakily. “The body… The good soul within it… Should define its own path… Live how it deems fit.. A path of light and not of darkness. A path of life and not death.”

She only cried silently, not giving herself the comfort of letting it out. Her pain. The only warmth she felt were her own tears. For a moment she felt a moment of unity with her other self, but she loathed it. Loathed that even for a moment she could be like her. Didn’t care that she had cried as well. As desperately. Sorális was crying because of HER. Because of her actions. Because of what that monster had done. Because of everything she’d done.

Sorális saw a young girl covered in her own blood. Her back carved open by a brutal weapon. One caused to lacerate and bleed people dry. She recognized this scene as she’d seen her before. It was the other self. The pale finger. Her torment. Sorális didn’t care. Not at all. She wouldn’t grant her an inch of pity.

Suddenly, something welled within her. A well of emotion. Frustration, anger, hate, but most of all, bloodlust. Then, she felt it, formed in the back of her mind like a being in and of itself. “You dare call yourself Sorális? You dare take my name, take my body, live my life, see me laid bare and think yourself better? Don’t make me laugh. You’re nothing… Nothing at all.”

 

“If…” The other self continued. “If you are something, you’re an infection. A falsehood born of my inability to be who I have to be. Born of my weakness… I’ll be rid of you soon enough, though. My brothers and sisters will make sure of it. Sena may have not been able to see what was happening, but I’m certain the others will. And when that happens.. You’ll lose everything.”

The world around her started to fade away, moving further and further- or rather.. She was the one moving, converging toward a central point in her mind. Red. A deep crimson covered everything. She was receding into the Blood Realm again. The other self was trying to force herself out, and Sorális couldn’t do anything about it.

“Sorális?” The sound barely reached her ears. She felt as if her head was submerged. As if something was physically forcing her underwater. Drowning her. Drowning her out.

“Sorális?” The voice cried out again, worried. The huntress tried to move herself, but it was completely impossible.

Suddenly, the grip of that ‘something’ on her head was gone, and she came to her senses. She was still standing, Yura was shaking her.

“That thing again?” He asked.

Sorális only nodded in response.

“I see… Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to get rid of it soon enough. For now… Stick with me. I see you.. And you’re not one of them.” Yura said. It sounded genuine. Felt like it as he grabbed her forearm and squeezed. A warrior’s greeting. Sorális smiled. He must’ve had enough of the hugs.

*

Blood Realm, Inner Sanctum

Varré

Upsetting. So very upsetting. Pitiful even. The bloody fingers had lost their best over nothing, and then another two trying to recover her. Oh, Lord Mohg wouldn’t be happy. Varre had to fix this somehow. The Lord would never get enough blood at this rate. They’d have to double the efforts to fill the gap of her missing. The Pale Bloody finger.

The white mask strolled through the ruined temple of the Blood Realm arrogantly. With her gone, this Realm was as good as his. Strong as the others may be, they couldn’t measure up to him. Only she could rival him. The only one that had overtaken him. His greatest creation… The one that was missing. The one that knew pain as he did. Oh how he missed their little meetings. Her blood flowed beautifully.

The more he thought about her, the more the itch within him grew. His rose thirsted to drink from her again, but someone else would do. The first person he laid eyes upon when he wandered the land, he supposed. It could never be the same, but it would suffice… For now.

The blood ocean around him roared and crashed into the ruins. He remained on the large stone bricks, blood spraying over his feet. This was what their efforts were all for. Their Lord’s grand design. The Mother’s wish. As he looked into the ocean, he could see them. His toys. All reaching for him, all of their faces contorted with emotion. Most with fear and desperation. He liked them the most. They too, broke eventually.

“Just you wait, Lambkins… I’ll give you new playmates soon… All of us will..”

The ruins of the great cathedral were still imposing. Enormous pillars jutted out of the blood ocean, supporting a giant dome above them. A fake moon in the sky provided the realm with a crimson light, that now seeped through the hollowness of the ruined building. The ten seats of the upper echelon were still untouched, as they always would be. They were the very foundations of this realm.

The remaining Fingers had arrived. Varré clicked his tongue as they were all on time. They Upper echelon was exempt from bloodletting rituals save for as punishment. Most of them played their parts perfectly. With Nerijus gone… He wouldn’t taste powerful blood for a while.

The white mask walked forward, hiding his annoyance. He ascended a tight flight of stairs, no railings on either side, only a raging ocean of blood below. His seat was the lone one. The one watching over all the others. The Pale one was given it after she became Lord Mohg’s champion… But during the years she was gone, there was no one else powerful enough to rise up to the responsibility. Perhaps he enjoyed that part of her absence.

Perhaps her absence wasn’t too bad. When she returned, he’d have her as a toy. A playmate. He’d broken her once… Using her for her blood only could be more beneficial for the lord.

The other Fingers stood up and bowed before their temporary leader. He couldn’t help but feel pride as they did. This position was rightfully his after all. In accordance to the ritual, he addressed each and every one of them, as a greeting.

“Okina, The Demon.
Eleonora, The Violet Bloody Finger
Raven, The Assassin
Hanabi, of the Red Cyclone
Arctus, The Frozen
Nikhan, Scholar of Worlds

You must all be well aware of another tragic loss. Our sister, the Morphing Finger, Sena, has fallen in battle.

She died within a disconnected Blood Realm.. Due to that, we can be certain that the culprit is none other than our very own… Pale Finger.
I would assume that she’s behind the death of Nerijus as well… Both deaths we shall mourn as a family… And in our duty, we shall serve our fallen siblings by killing the betrayer.. Your command is to go to the Lands Between. Gather blood there as you normally would, and should you hear of the betrayer, attack without questions. No words need to be spoken. Do not give her the courtesy of an explanation…

We are the truth.” Varre concluded. The other fingers responded as one.

“For we are true blood.”

“The world is ours.” He continued

“For we are pure.” They answered.

“May the world bleed.” He said

“So our holy mother may feed.” They finished.

 

The White mask smiled to himself, though no one could ever know that. Not while he wore that passive visage. The one he would take with him in death, as it was when he first
wore it that he was truly born.

Even in his silence, none of the fingers moved. Despite their high status, they were not allowed to take action or speak if he did not give the order.

“Another matter, my lambkins… We have three vacant seats in our Blood Realm… We’ll need to induct more young blood…” Varre glanced over each of them. “Eleonora… Find some individuals of impressive ability… Tell me of their whereabouts.”

The Drake-Knight stood up from her seat only to bow deeply before sitting down again.

“That should conclude this gathering. I only wish to speak to Raven, concerning the search of the Pale Finger.”

The rest of the Bloody Fingers sank into their seats, becoming blood of the deepest crimson and joining the ocean below. Only Raven stayed back, seated.

“You may stand, Lambkin. You may speak freely.”

Varre allowed, and Raven did. Took the chance like a starving peasant would take food.

“You know well things aren’t as you say. You know well something else must be happening. Soralis would never, under any circumstances, kill Sena. Hell- Nerijus too, even though they had a rivalry going. She would not kill a brother and sister. You know it, and the rest of the fingers know it too.”

He said as he pointed at the white mask accusatorily

Vare chuckled. “My oh my, Raven. One could take your accusation itself as treason.”

“You know well your OWN accusation should be treason against our former leader. Lord Mohg’s most trusted bodyguard. The strongest of us. The best I daresay.” Raven exclaimed with a smile. Varre’s face contorted with anger. The boy knew his buttons.

“I only asked for your presence, lambkin, so you may know that you’re on loose footing. Since you and the traitor were so close before, know well that it is not beyond me to end you. Act under the Lord’s interests or you may end up like Sena or Nerijus.”

“I will clear her name, White Mask. If I do find her, I know well that all will be explained.” Raven continued, his hands balled into fists.

“I pray that you die with this hope within you. It is a beautiful thing… Hope.” Varre taunted. “Go now, bird. I have no further need of you.”

Raven said nothing as he pooled into the floor with the crimson sea.

*

Stormveil Castle.

Yura

The girl was stable enough. He had completely misunderstood her condition. The huntress he knew, was wholly unaffected by the cessblood. Her actions were guided by fear rather than bloodlust. The only time he sensed a true Bloody Finger in her, was when they feasted at Lord Haight’s castle, one of these times. He sensed restraint from her. He noticed how she glanced between everyone warily. Someone who feels safe doesn’t do that. Back then he thought that maybe the girl was scared, or uncomfortable, or unwell. But no. This made perfect sense. Combined with what the Black Knife Assassin told him, he surmised that Sorális was a completely different person to the Pale Bloody Finger. It was rare, but it happened. The Hunter had heard tales of mortals who lived as such. People who led double lives. Two souls within one body, with different aspirations and inclinations. None of the situations were so extreme, but he had heard of them nonetheless.

“Sorális.” Yura said suddenly. The huntress turned toward him.

“Hm?” She hummed in a low tone.

“Do you think you can still use your bloodflame?” He asked, half holding himself back.

She took a moment to respond, as if checking within herself for the flow of it. “Yes. It wouldn’t be a problem. But.. Are you sure I should?”

Yura nodded. “It doesn’t affect you. It truly doesn’t. Not like it affects the others… I’ve seen my fair share of Bloody Fingers. Killed more than a few of them. They enter a craze when their bloodflame rages. You… Don’t. You carry the power but not the cost. The person who suffers from the cost.. Is not in control anymore.” He explained. “Here, try calling it forth.”

He said as he gently pulled her forearm up, pointing her palm to the sky.

Her flame rose easily and steadily, crackling as it looked for blood to consume.

“Do you feel any different than you did a moment ago?” He asked.

“Not at all.” Said Sorális, puzzled.

“Then you’re nothing like them, save for your powers. A Bloody Finger, even one that could be close to me, would feel a gravitation toward violence while channeling their blood. Their first thought would be to bleed me dry.”

“I’ve never wanted to do that.” She said suddenly.

“I know.” Yura said, mostly to comfort her. “I’ve had my… suspicions at least. You seemed… Like a child almost… I thought you were lost when we first met. It was this… Unassuming nature of yours that stayed your blade. That, and the lack of exuded animosity. A hunter of fingers would know the intent of one.. Which is what makes your situation so troubling to me. But know that I know what your situation is, I can say that I truly and wholly trust you, Sorális.”

The huntress looked at him as if he were a ghost. She smiled to herself before speaking. “I’ve been wanting to hear these words and believe them for so long now… It was killing me.” She turned toward the railings again, leaning on them.

The castle shook. Men cried out to man the ramparts. They all gathered on the other side of Stormveil. They had time, but not too much of it.

“I think I can believe in it now. This camaraderie between me and you. If things are as you say.” She said and felt whole. More than she did before.

“I believe it as well. Trust me, I had trouble with that.” Yura smiled at her, though his senses alerted him to something moving. Something big. Something powerful. “Feel that?”

Sorális leaned down the railing. Whatever it was that was approaching was currently moving through the castle, directly beneath them, and moving to the lineage’s graveyard.

Yura closed his eyes to focus. An unshapely mass. Labored breathing. This being was huge.

It finally walked into sight, stumbling over itself as it rushed into the courtyard. “Mmm… Where’s Lesta’s unit? The Bastard was supposed to be keeping Limgrave in check for me. He was good at one thing and he failed at that too. No.. No. I must not think that. The boy will be my salvation. He will return.

“Godrick…” The huntress whispered, glancing at Yura.

“You still want that piece of information from Haight?” He asked her. He wasn’t quite certain for what purpose. He knew he wanted it. And he wanted her to fight with him, otherwise this fight could be tough. Though looking at the demigod now… He looked worthless. A malformed old man covered in green drapes, inscribed with imagery of the Erdtree in gold thread. Beneath the lavish clothing he was huge, bulging and clumsy.

“He’s slow. We should be able to do it.” Sorális responded to him. Her mind jumping into action immediately.

“That wasn’t what I asked.” Yura whispered. “Do you still want to go after the fingers?”

The huntress didn’t turn to look at him. “I don’t see how my initial plan changes at all… At first, we only had a hunch I was connected to them. Yet now we know that I-... My body used to be one, actively is one. We also know they’ve been looking for me… I only see one way to rid myself of them… Sever the root… I say we find the root and burn it all down.”

It was apparent that the girl felt little to no connection to the other fingers. Her determination could help free Eleonora as well. “Very well. Let’s move forward with our plan then.” Yura ordered as he drew his blade. “Let’s free Limgrave from this tyrant for one… And then.. Back to weeding out the cessblood.”

“Agreed.” Sorális muttered as she summoned her piercers out of fire. Yura couldn’t quite read her. She showed no fear or hesitation. As if her mind was finally clear. His master’s words echoed in his head. ‘Do not allow hesitation to stay your blade’. But for her, he was glad that he did, as concerning as his failure to follow his master’s teachings was for the future that awaited him.

The huntress jumped over the railing first, landing on the courtyard and rolling forward.

“Oh gods..” Yura huffed as he jumped as well. Preferring to take it a bit slower by holding on to the ledge and bending his knees upon landing.

Their target was a few steps away, his back to them, hunched over by a tall tree. Praying? Talking to himself? Yura couldn’t tell.

Sorális looked back at him to ensure that they were doing this. Yura nodded as he stepped closer silently, preparing himself for a lethal attack.

His weapon felt unnatural in his hands, but it’d have to do. It’s thrusting attack wouldn’t be as effective as it would with Nagakiba, but he reckoned he could get to know this sword, too. He angled himself properly as he normally did, and prepared to shoot his body forward with his legs.

The huntress was also ready, her swords tainted by a massive concentration of bloodflame.

After nodding, Yura pushed himself off his feet and thrust his sword deep into the Demigod’s
malformed back. Sorális did the same with both swords. After a moment, the flames dancing around her swords exploded, setting the drapes on fire.

Both of the hunters jumped back, as the demigod stood extremely still. The drapes burning off like hot coals.

Something dropped from beneath them. Two arms… Seemingly belonging to different bodies. One was charred, the other near perfectly cut, only one side still holding on to flesh, like a slice of bread cut nearly to the edge.

Godrick turned to the side, his hulking mass moving with him. The pair finally saw the man’s face and… He wasn’t big at all. In fact he was small. Sickly even. It appeared as if his torso was merely attached to something bigger.

“Ah… You’ve come… To kill me, have you?” The demigod said, slurring over his words.

“You, too, must think me weak? Of course… After what the did to me, you would think that. Well…” Something moved from under the drapes. His back contorted even more.

The singed fabric met the floor as what he hid was laid bare.

Godrick had reached new heights of depravity with grafting. Perhaps only his torso was really his. The rest was a mass of limbs in different stages of decay connected to the main body of a dead troll- over which he wore chainmail armor adorned with fabrics portraying his banners. On his back was an array of arms. Arms the hunter could not think of a use for.

His two main arms, belonging to a troll, had had other smaller limbs stitched onto them, for no apparent reason. His legs did not seem to operate correctly. The way he moved, for a troll would be more like walking on one’s knees.

“...You’ll have to pay for the damage you just did… I’ll show you the true strength of the go-..golden lineage..” He exclaimed as he stumbled over himself, trying to grab a hold of his multiple axes, one of which was decorated with a golden lion standing of two legs.

“You think yourself a warrior akin to great Godfrey?” Yura exclaimed as he saw that axe. If this lumbering mass could really pose a threat, angering it would make it more predictable.

 

“...You-... You make a claim that I’m not great, don’t you. You have yet to see my power, yet you judge me as weak?... That’s not the way of a warrior…” The demigod muttered as he dragged his axes on the floor. The wind gathered.

Yura could have sworn the moment passed instantly. He didn’t even have time to react as Godrick slammed an axe at him from an unseen angle. A limb he had not seen move. Flesh squelched. “IS IT?” Godrick cried out at him, chuckling to himself.

*

The addition of Lesta to the army appeared to be one of Lord Haight’s better tactical decisions. The grafted knight didn’t have an equal. Certainly not in size and strength. He met most challenges head on, and didn’t even flinch when he got hurt. If one were to say that Godrick’s line didn’t have a connection to the golden lineage, Lesta’s mere existence would prove them wrong.

Eitan couldn’t imagine what turning on your own people felt like. Perhaps it’d be easier to imagine if his father was Godrick. Lesta didn’t seem to have any qualms with his change in allegiances. He didn’t hesitate when killing his father’s soldiers and knights- his former allies. He even seemed to enjoy it, actually. He fought with hate. Eitan saw it in the way he fought. Vengefully, and with glee.

In fact, he did most of the fighting too. Godrick’s forces weren’t too organised, and what little organisation existed within them, was set by Lesta.. Meaning he could use it against them.

His brutal fighting style was certainly a sight to behold. He would oft run soldiers down with his warhorse, but would also fight them on ‘equal footing’. As equal as it could be.

Eitan looked on as the grafted knight maimed or decapitated multiple knights with a single swing. “Brutal..” He muttered, glancing sidelong at Raphael and Melina. They stayed silent as the company marched deeper into Godrick’s land, and closer to the castle. It stood beyond them, just a little further away. It was grand and imposing, yet consumed by time and countless sieges.

“It could very well fall by tonight..” Kenneth Haight said out loud as his horse caught up to them with a trot. Lesta, who was further ahead, shot him a glance. The Lord nearly fell of his horse by making frantic hand movements, in order to reassure the knight that his ancestral seat would be respected.

“Any fire the castle falls under will be to divert their attention.” Haight reiterated, checking to see if Lesta would react to it. Relieved, he turned to his ‘retainers’ as he now decided to call Eitan, Raphael, and Melina.

“I’ll make sure you three are properly compensated for assisting me here. I know you joined the cause of your own volition. You must have your reasons to want the old bastard dead. Values, rewards, lands, titles. Well, be it for personal gain or not, know that I’ll reward you regardless.” With a slight smile, he added. “I might have use for you later down the line…” He then looked at the knight in front of them.

‘Sly dog..’ Eitan thought to himself. Melina spoke to him before he could say anything, though he saw no reason to speak.

“I will request that my allies be fitted with good, high quality armor. I would also ask for swords of equal quality.”

“Oh, assertive.” Lord Haight said, chuckling. “Very well. A small ask, one I shall happily provide…”

“We would only ask this much for our journey will be long and perilous. If we happen to find ourselves here again, we shall seek you to offer you our aid, should you need it at the time.” Melina suggested. She seemed to be familiar enough with the dealings of nobles. Their promises of power.

 

“Very well. See to it that you find yourselves in Limgrave soon. You might find that things wont be so simple.” Haight ominously suggested as he led his horse away, further back in the company.

All three ‘retainers’ seemed to understand that Haight’s plan for the future was not to be discussed. Not now, as sad as it may be for Lesta. At least that’s what Eitan got from the glances they exchanged.

“So-.. You want to take me with you?” Raphael asked the pair in confusion.

Melina nodded with a brow raised, as if to say.. ‘of course?’

“The more of us there are, the higher our chances of success. I must explain certain things to you, but that’ll happen later. Do you think it to be an unreasonable ask?” She continued

“No.” Raphael stated, puzzled. He simply held on to his horse’s reins and led it forward, looking ahead for a while. “I’d very much like that, actually. I just hadn’t thought about my future plans… At all.”

“It’s simple.. Does changing the way our world functions interest you at all?.. I know you fought for the Golden Order. You’re a named knight of Leyndell. What I suggest would be considered a cardinal sin.. But our mission..” Melina said as she motioned toward Eitan “Is to manage to bring the prophecy of the cycle to fruition.. With a few key differences.”

“As with everyone else, Leyndell will seek to crush you. They don’t need much of an excuse, but this is a big one. No, the biggest one.” Raphael explained passionately, shaking his head as if unsure of what Melina was telling him.

“We understand if you don’t want to join us.” Said Eitan.

“But we’ll need you to keep it to yourself.. Going against friends and family is someone I wouldn’t wish upon anyone..” Melina said solemnly.

“I didn’t say no.” Raphael started. “I don’t have family in Leyndell either. No real family I mean. I was an orphan. That’s what I was told.”

Eitan noted a certain implication in his words. He may have not believed whoever told him that.

“So, yes. I’ll come with. Gladly.. But do you intend to take Sorális and Yura with you as well?”
Raphael asked

“There’s the merchant too.” Eitan caught.

“Oh yeah- I’d forgotten about him.” Raphael admitted.

“One that would no doubt have more than just a few reasons to join our cause.” Melina told him, perhaps eliciting bad memories.

“Yeah…” Raphael responded quietly. “That he would have.”

“Feelings such as those concerning the past are part of the reason why we must aspire to fix this.” Melina spoke casually, as if she was making conversation. They had reached the gates. No one expanded upon the matter, Eitan certainly didn’t want to.

 

The path ahead was clear, though Lesta stopped moving forward. Or rather, Storm did. The warhorse had stopped without its master saying anything.

“What’s the matter? Lost your gall?” Kenneth Haight yelled at the knight from behind a few rows of his soldiers. The grafted knight didn’t say anything to him, only looked beyond the gates, at the rows of steps going forward. He held a sword in his right hand, keeping it low.

“I thought you would lead us into the castle, boy. Are you lost?” Said Lord Morne, bringing his own horse to a halt.

Eitan and Melina exchanged a glance. The warrior made an unknowing gesture with his shoulders.

“This is…” Lesta started as he got off his horse, turning toward the army and taking a few steps toward them. He didn’t even manage to continue talking before the whole force turned on him. Spears were raised forward, and bows already aiming at him.

Haight’s ‘retainers’ didn’t move an inch however. They only stood where they were. They would be the only thing holding Lesta back from destroying the force after all.

The knight chuckled, then laughed out loud at them. “You speak of losing one’s gall, then you tremble at a bear’s farts before even seeing it. Nay. I haven’t lost my gall, Haight.” He yelled back at the lord, raising his sword up high in protest. “I was simply in the process of explaining that your fucking army would be shot down within a few minutes.”

“A trick! That’s all this is.” Edgar Morne cried out, raising his halberd forward. “The bastard has been playing along with us in order to trap us in here.”

“A good plan Morne, but I wouldn’t need to do that. I could kill the lot of you right now if I truly wanted to side with my father. I’m only saying there’s another way-” Lesta’s head darted upward. He seemed to have seen something. Eitan went to turn as well, but an unseen force pushed him to his knees forcefully.

Clamor filled his senses as metal met brick, flesh, or itself. Soldiers cried out, horses shrieked and the ground shook. Melina was in the same state he was, she was also suffering another effect however. It seemed like a gold-ish spectral energy was keeping her bound.

The warrior turned around to see the force nearly obliterated. A circle of living and dead soldiers lay around a giant figure clad in rags.”Ah… I see… Thou hast finally made thine move.” The figure said from under its cloak. Upon pulling it back, Eitan stilled. A tall, lanky omen. Its horns covered the right sight of its face, and a horned tail lashed around beneath its rags. What was it doing here- was it in Godrick’s employ? And- was it speaking to Melina?

“Thine existence is… Unfortunate… It pains me to rain this upon thine soul, but… The order thou insist on enforcing is no order. Thou’ve been little more than an annoyance this past century.” The omen spoke as a burst of golden energy surged from its left arm, falling upon Melina. The maiden screamed as the power flowed into and through her, piercing through her very being like fire singes a dry piece of paper.

Eitan’s eyes widened. He jumped to her, but couldn’t do anything to stop it. This magic flowed further up her body, seemingly making her vanish. Melina only stood there, helplessly.

“De… feat him. Eitan-... Or it’ll all be for naught.. Our journey… Cannot end..”

The golden energy moved up her hair and head quicker than it did over the rest of her body. The maiden disappeared, leaving only remnants of the same power behind. Floating around like shiny dust.

Only Raphael and the Grafted knight still stood. Raphael’s eyes locked onto the omen. He looked determined. More than he usually did. Power gathered in him, spreading out from his chest like vines growing rapidly and forming into a bark-like armor set. It even covered his face with a greathelm, wood-like antlers forming on top.

“Stand ready, Eitan. Melina still lives… In the way she lived before as well, I mean. If we defeat this apparition, she’ll come back to us, but this may be the only chance we get.”

Raphael explained, holding his blade forward.

“Grafted knight. Will you join us? I understand that you’re a man of honor. I believe what you said.” The knight of Leyndell continued.

“I would’ve charged to fight this beast even if it didn’t serve me. Someone like him would definitely be able to keep up with me.” Lesta growled as he unsheathed the rest of his swords. He stepped forward menacingly. Itching for a fight.

*

Stormveil, Sorális

Sorális felt the bite of cold steel deep in her shoulder as her blood dripped down into the brick laid floor. She hand to commend Haight’s smith, because her armor was quite sturdy for its sleek and light design. For what it was worth, Godrick wasn’t able to cut her clean in half. She wasn’t certain if she could regenerate a wound so severe.

“Move, Yura!” She cried out as she pushed the demigod’s axe off of herself with her healthy arm, bloodflame surging over her to heal the deep wound she sustained. Healing flesh was one thing, a near instant process, but healing bone wasn’t quite as simple as that.

As she pushed the demigod’s axe away, she called forth her piercer. She doubted that stabbing would be useful in this fight, at least so early into it. There was much to cut off, so instead of thrusting into him, she called forth a wave of blade-formed blood and sent it toward him by slashing sideways in front of herself.

“No- No!” Godrick shouted as he brought up one of his axes, deflecting the wave of blood with ease.

“You’re supposed to be dead!” He complained as he chased Yura away with a mass of arms.

The hunter took the chance and cut an arm clean off with his katana, eliciting a cry of anger from the demigod.

“Lowly tarnished! How dare you inflict this upon me? I am a true descendant of the golden lineage- not a lowlife heathen, stripped of grace! I am grace itself, a trueborn god!”

Godrick cried out in delirium, the winds of Stormveil responding to his anger.

“Plan?” Yura asked as he dashed back to Sorális, katana in hand.

The huntress pushed her right shoulder back into place with her left arm before speaking. The flesh mended itself and the wound sealed shut, red flames covering it, leaving a faint scar behind. “I don’t sense any blood in his added limbs. The ones on his back, the ones on his main arms. There is a slight flow of blood in the ones directly connected to him, but most of it is in his torso. That’s how we kill him.”

“We won’t make it to his torso.” Yura noted, carefully circling the demigod, awaiting an attack.

“Make sure that I will.” Sorális commanded. She had more of a chance in slipping past his guard. Whittle him down, then find a way to get her piercers into his heart. That would be it. Now that they were actually doing it, it seemed way more plausible.

“You make your little plans right in front of me? Your folly is unforgivable! You barge into my castle and attack me in my dynasty’s mausoleum? My refuge. How dare you?” The demigod said with a growl as he turned his back to them and started limping toward the great tree. Both Sorális and Yura ran forward immediately, aiming to stab and finish off the blubbering bastard before he could do anything else. She sought to end him not just because of his conceited frame of mind, nor just because of his actions. Her own goals would be furthered. She would be closer to living a full, real life. Like a full real person.

They neared him. Sorális jumped up with both thrusting swords angled forward, ready to reach his crimson core, ready to bleed him dry. Yura too was on the offensive, readying a powerful downward slash.

Yet.. As Godrick spoke, the world seemed to still. “I had planned to graft it onto someone else but… The time is now.”

Fierce winds kept Sorális in place, blowing into her from all sides. Yura was trying to move too, but to no avail.

“You too, will bear witness…” Godrick said, pulling a large object closer to them. It was a giant cut of meat from which blood and steam poured out as he moved it. The scent of sulfur stung in Sorális’s nose.

“Is that-...” The huntress struggled to say.

“A dragon.” Yura managed to say, straining against the fierce wind the demigod summoned.

“Truest of dragons… Grant me your strength O’ Kindred..” The grafted monarch heaved, breathing heavily. He brought his golden axe up with one arm and appeared to hesitate for a moment, but he slammed it down onto his right arm with considerable might.

“Agh-. AAH-” He started, continuing into a wail of pain so loud that Sorális’s ears hurt. With another swing, he cut through the troll bone, thick as a human’s head.

Godrick whimpered as his arm bled. He then promptly shoved it into the underside of the dragon's torn neck.

"Ah... Ahh.." He huffed as his exposed bone slid into flesh, tearing into it with a long and terrible squelch.

The winds ceased, and Sorális fell back down, landing on her knees with a grunt. As soon as they were both free again, Yura attacked once more, raising his katana and swinging at the demigod's still 'normal' arm. Godrick couldn't defend himself from the first slash, or the second. Four grafted limbs found the ground soon after.

Despite this assault, the monarch didn't defend himself in any other way. His arms were too thick to cut through without an extreme amount of power, yet this approach didn't benefit him in the long run.

"You.. Ahh.. Think you can stand against the true power of the golden lineage? Ahh.. The grace's rays of gold haven't abandoned me yet... I'll soon return to my home... Bathed in rays of gold.. I know it." Godrick said breathlessly, peeking over his arm as Sorális and Yura looked on.

"He's tiring." Sorális noted, gaining an aggressive stance as she pointed at him with one of her piercers. I can do it now. Make sure you keep him wide open. She ordered Yura. The hunter grunted his agreement as he dashed toward Godrick with an unprecedented speed, dodging a clumsy axe strike and strafing to his back. His sword was already raised. He brought it down on him, cleanly tearing flesh Yura was certain didn'[t originally belong to the monarch.

This would be the opening. Godrick had to turn around to defend himself, exposing his torso. It would take one clean thrust to kill him. If this fight taught her anything it was that even demigods could be harmed by mortals. Now about whether or not she'd be able to permanently end him.. She'd see in a few moments.

As her instincts predicted, he turned. Her body was already moving. Reacting to the predicted outcome. Going in for the kill like the honed weapon that it was. One thrusting sword angled forward, intending to pierce the heart, and another held back, ready to defend her if need be.

Red flames burst forth from her swords and her body as she anticipated the kill. She felt the elation her previous self must've felt, but perhaps it was different. She was a force for justice now. A force that moved forward, toward a better future. A bloodless one. Just like Yura.

Suddenly, something changed in her prediction. An immediate manifestation of extreme danger. She heard a snarl. Sensed fire, a fire different than her own, and completely distinct in its own right. That intense scent of sulfur had flooded her senses. It couldn't be. Was it truly possible?

*

Stormveil Castle Main Gates

Raphael

Soldiers were dying left and right. Normal people. Townsfolk. Good men. Raphael couldn't stop thinking about the unavoidable feelings of loss so many families would experience. So many children. Perhaps under this order, with access to the catacombs, Lord Haight could order them buried near the Erdtrees roots. Hoping for a revival. Like the one he'd gone through.

The other thought in his head, perhaps the most prominent one, was how familiar this omen felt. Not only did he feel like he knew his voice, but he also felt an odd kinship with him. An omen aligned with the golden order. It sounded like the jokes Ser Wyll made at times. It made him think of himself. He was an omen in all but body. If it was what occurred in the mind that made an omen, he knew he'd definitely be one.

For all of the Golden Order's hatred toward them, this omen definitely served them well and faithfully. His use of holy magic made that clear. Having fought many of them as a tool of Leyndell, Raphael could tell that this one was a cut above the rest in many ways. He was faster, stronger and smarter than any omen he'd faced in the past.

"The Erdtree shan't fall." The Omen stated categorically. "Thine flames shall be extinguished... Let it be by Margit, The Fell."

Of course. The fell Omen. The one that had defeated General Radahn during the shattering. That explained everything. He was known as a protector of the Erdtree, but that was the only piece of information anyone had on him.

The knight didn't know what to make of the situation. The Omen was slaughtering Haight's army, perhaps to halt a change in the balance of power that existed? With Godrick dead, the prophesied tarnished was certain to move forward and claim his Great Rune. He didn't want to think about the implications of that. One of his allies could be the one to commit the great sin. Melina and Eitan had definitely plead guilty in wanting to do so, but would it be them? Or would it be Sorális, who was in the process of killing the demigod in that moment? He didn't quite want to think about it. No matter who it was, it would make them a target. He knew well of all the different demigods and their goals. None were entirely peaceful or harmless.

The only one he'd truly met was the king… though thinking of him now only filled him with guilt. It felt like a betrayal. Other than that-.. he supposed Lesta had to be one too. Or- was he a quarter-god? That didn't sound as imposing as “demigod”.

Come to think of it, he was holding his own against an omen, and this special omen at that. The grafted knight had managed to land more than one slashes against the fell omen, yet even so, the beast of legend did not seem to tire.

“Is that all you've got, omen? I'd heard tell of you meddling in my father’s business, but I didn't think it’d be to this extent.” Lesta growled, angling two swords toward him tauntingly while keeping the other two lowered.

“Mine fight is not with thou, son of Godrick the Golden. Led by this here tarnished” The fell omen said as he pointed his cane toward Eitan “These men mean to take thine castle, and slay thine father. In search of his Great Rune, no doubt. I shall not allow it. Thine best interests lie in allying with me, and disposing of this army.”

“You make a tempting proposition, omen.” The grafted knight started, carefully approaching the legend with his swords still up. “But I mean to take my father’s throne for my own. Unlike his, my rule will honor true warriors. Unlike his, my rule will have people live. Be they worthy enough, they may even rise. They may be more. Do not think me to be a thrall of the Golden Order. I am a warrior of Stormveil, and a true descendant of the Golden Lineage, but with these here blades I shall honor Godfrey in a manner none of you zealots ever have”

The Fell Omen huffed. “Thou art a disappointment as well, then. A wilful traitor to the great Erdtree. To Marika’s wish for a world of unending peace.”

“Do you see peace? Do you, truly? The demigods are destroying each other, destroying us, or rotting away in desolate wastelands. This is not an era of peace-. The people who come back may be sound of body but not of mind. It’s an era of corruption. An era of constant unending decay.” Raphael argued as he walked forward, side by side with Lesta. His life-tree greathelm covered his face, its antlers jutting out from it sideways, granting him an imposing look.

“We will change this no matter what.. And Melina will be with us for it. If you have to die for her to return to us… It’s a price I’m more than willing to pay.” Eitan said calmly, his sword drawn and aimed at the omen aggressively. He didn’t look angry. He was nearly serene. Raphael knew that look. That silent, desperate fury. He knew well that the warrior wasn’t nearly as composed as he made himself seem. He must’ve been aching inside. Aching with worry and that gripping home. Raphael had felt it too in the past.

“Mine hopes were not high for thee, Grafted Child. I had believed that a demigod might see reason, but now I see the whole picture. Thou art allied with a heretic of the Crucible, and the fool she who acts as a finger maiden lied to.” Said Margit before plunging his cane into the ground.

“Very well then. Thine flame shall be extinguished as well.” The Omen stated, and he was upon them in a flash. With divine speed, he dashed forward, attacking Lesta with his cane. The demigod blocked the attack with a single sword and readied himself for a counter-attack, but Eitan was already moving in to help.

The warrior’s blade was raised high as the Omen stood still, but as he swung at him, Margit was already gone.

“What?” Eitan managed to say, gasping in surprise.

“Above you!” Lesta growled, moving in to help, though he wouldn’t make it in time. The assailant was attacking with a golden spectral dagger. A spell of the order no doubt.

Eitan raised his sword in response despite his posture being all wrong. He was still recoiling from the swing, but he managed to bring the sword up to deflect the dagger… Only to be slashed across the chest, the golden magic piercing through his chestplate and doing much more than breaking skin. Raphael could swear that he felt his own ribs being grazed by the slash.

The knight’s body reacted immediately, but for a reason much deeper than caring for his friend. The Omen would slash a second time, but Raphael would block the hit. He would make it in time.

Spectral wings manifested on his back, that same dull gold that always appeared when his body instinctively cast this weird magic. Margit mentioned the crucible when he looked at him. Called him a heretic. Perhaps he was something like that, by nature.

With his wings on his back he was propelled forward with blinding speed, raising his shield up at the omen with tremendous force. The legend’s dagger met the immovable shield and shattered. Whatever divine power it held was completely deterred by the shield’s very essence.

“You alright?” He shouted from under the greathelm.

“Not doing too good.” Eitan said with a grin on his face.

“I think I can do something about that.” Raphael responding, feeling like he was lying. He wasn’t quite certain about it, but this power in his hands.. It responded to his friend’s wounds. It responded to the deaths caused by the omen. It responded to pain, misery. To life.

“I think…” He muttered again as he set his sword on his side, a root sprouting from his armor, responding to his action and forming into a scabbard around it.

Raphael placed his free hand on Eitan’s chest. “I’ve done something similar to this before, but never with this power.”

“You two might want to get on with it. If he dies, he dies. We’ve a battle to fight.” Lesta yelled at Raphael as he swung his swords at the Omen in confusing intervals, forcing him away from his allies.

Eitan looked at Raphael with a brow raised. He wasn’t quite dying, but it wasn’t a pleasant situation either.

The knight caught on to his friend’s disillusioned look and promptly pressed onto his chest wound, pouring the energy of the Crucible -as The Fell Omen called it- into him. The energy seemed to be primed to healing, invigorating and empowering, as Eitan was near instantly on his feet- the gash across his chest miraculously tying together as if his flesh decided to just mend itself in an instant.

Raphael remained frozen next to him, not quite knowing how he did that.

“That’ll come in handy.” Eitan remarked as he rushed toward the omen, raising his sword up high.

Raphael unsheathed his sword from his newly made scabbard and moved forward as well.

 

Caria Manor, Liurnia

Moonchilde

The people of Caria and the people of Leyndell did not see eye to eye when it came to destiny. Well, they didn’t see eye to eye at all, but that is to be expected between two opposite societies. Like the sun and moon, they held similarities, yet operated completely differently. The part where their views aligned the least… Destiny.

The Carians had a very fluid interpretation of it that clashed with the Golden Order’s absolutes. What the Greater Will ordains to be one’s destiny simply is, and there’s no avoiding it- Yet Ranni had done just that. She had broken free from what had been imposed upon her by a god.. Perhaps the stars were like gods, too? Perhaps it was possible to escape their purview as well, and walk into a new era of self-ordained destiny?

Thoughts such as these waded through his mind as he walked through the Manor again, looking for Ranni (not knowing where to find her at all).
He walked through the same halls as earlier, aiming to go to her room first.

As he reached the previously warded door he realized that she likely hadn’t used that room in a long time. The journal entry he saw must’ve been very old from the looks of it. Her current state didn’t support such emotion as was seen written on paper.

“Where would you be?..” He said to himself, not at all expecting her to magically appear next to him.. Like she did.

“I told you, I was off taking care of some things. Adula had an… Altercation with an individual she should’ve ignored.. Your eyes tell me you don’t know who Adula is… How could you?” Ranni rambled. “I see you’ve met Lisevinde… And the Preceptor. Oh.. And you’ve broken my ward.. Your development is extraordinary, not that I didn’t expect it.” The witch continued as Moonchilde stared at her in disbelief. Could everyone around here just appear and vanish as if it were nothing?

“I must sincerely apologize, my lady. I do not know what came over me” He said after a moment, as soon as he had processed what she’d told him. Ranni gave him a knowing smile as he spoke.

“I’d argue that you had enough time to realize it’d be quite bold to do what you did, but still, I’m very pleased. You’ve gotten to know magic better. Do you know me better as well now?” The princess said as she walked into the old room, her light blue dress grazing over the ground.

Did he? He didn’t feel like he did. He’d only confirmed that she spoke the truth earlier when she spoke of her pets. He also knew that she did something she regretted. Some sort of great sin. One she could not forgive herself for committing. “I don’t… Know.” He hoped he could know more of her. Of who she was. He imagined that her current state was only a dim flame compared to her former. Back when she still possessed the spark of life. She was still here of course, but only partly.

“So what did the Preceptor say?” Said Ranni, turning to the knight, light blue eyes landing on him expectantly.

“Ah… He insisted I go speak to him right away. He mentioned a matter of great importance.” Moonchilde admitted. “Though I elected to speak to you, first.. His intentions are questionable enough..”

Ranni chuckled. “You’re right my knight. It does sound suspicious to ask my knight to converse about me, doesn’t it? The old man spoke of thwarting destiny to me as well…” The princess said, waving her hand dismissively. “I have no interest in that though.. I only wish for our paths to not be set by gods. As long as that’s not the case… I can rest.”

“But now.. Your path is ordained by the stars, is it not? Are you truly in control of your choices then?” The knight suggested, saying the first thought that came to mind, perhaps foolishly.

“How could I not be?...” Ranni responded near instinctively, and the more she thought about it, the more she doubted her own choices. The Carians had been reading the stars and moon for so long that they assumed them to be part of the natural order of the world. Simply put: The Truth. For the first time in decades, Ranni felt something. First fascination, and then fear.

“Do you really think?...” She started, then set her fingers on her chin in thought. Moonchilde had never seen her so invigorated.

“My lady, are you feeling well?” He asked in worry, reaching out with his hands for her as she paced around.

“But how would I prove it? How would I prove things to be a certain way in this case? If these ‘destinies’ are unavoidable then there’s no sense in observing them at all.. Perhaps only to know what fate might befall us… For solace.”

Ranni looked very disturbed. Worried, thinking, bothered. “You have planted quite the seed, my dear knight.” She murmured as she looked at him. “I wish to think on the matter, but I assume you have more to say.”

If it was he who caused her this distress, he felt the need to apologize greatly, for as lively as she looked (which gave him hope), he didn’t want her to worry. Not wishing to dwell on the matter, he said this: “In the end I only wanted to ask.. Should I speak with Seluvis? Is he to be trusted, or not? He lives in this Manor with you, so took it upon me to assume that you trust him enough, more so than others.”

“Ahh..” Ranni started with a grin. “Whether I trust him or not… That remains to be seen.. But perhaps you can help me find out?.. You may go and convene with him. Speak of such matters that you see fit, give him all of the information he asks for.. Even further his goals.. Do that, for now. It should help prepare you for our… Destined path.” She said grimly. “And then… You may go forward with what we spoke of before.. Procuring that vessel for me.. I have gathered information on the whereabouts of the person that could make it, and will give it to you after you’re finished with this.” The princess explained to him. “Ah- ah-” She shook a finger as Moonchilde went to protest. “No. I knew you would go straight to doing that if I told you where this person is. That’s why I am ordering you to do this first. Grow your power. I do not want you to die a senseless death, Moonchilde.”

The knight gained a dissatisfied expression, but didn’t push any further. “Alright..” He resigned. He did wish to serve her, but should a faithful servant always listen to their master? Even when the master neglected their own health? He hadn’t decided if this was right for him. Maybe it wasn’t. But this once, he’d follow her orders. After that, he was finding that person he spoke of. Perhaps they would be friendly.. If they weren’t, he’d be willing to make them friendly one way or another.

“I shall play your little spy, my lady.” He found himself saying, half-faking a deep bow in front of her. She chuckled, a little more genuinely than usual, and he hoped she really did feel something. Her worry definitely seemed real, so her condition mustn’t have been as absolute as she thought.

“Daring, aren’t we?” Ranni asked in response, quite enjoying his growing comfort around her. “You really took me saying there’s no need for formalities to heart. I’m happy to see that.” The princess walked him out of the room and placed another seal on the door.
“You’re free to break it down whenever you want, if it pleases you my dear knight. I have nothing to hide from you.. In fact, I knew when you breached it and could’ve stopped you at any time. I can be cheeky like that.. I wanted to see what you’d do.. And it appears you simply wanted to know more of me. Perhaps… You will. You’ve definitely showed me more of myself.. Somehow.” And she vanished again.

Moonchilde held back from showing frustration at the use of this type of magic. It seemed like everyone in the manor was averse to walking. He liked it better. He preferred to walk around, and could not imagine himself just vanishing to other parts of the manor.

*

Caria Manor, outer Courtyard

The knight had not been outside since he was brought to the manor. Well, he had not been to the outer courtyard at least. Ranni had insisted he walk with her around the inner courtyard so the sun could better his condition. He always grumbled against it, but felt better in the end.

Somehow, the outer courtyard of Caria Manor was even more beautiful than the inside of the building. Crystalline plants jut out of the ground with glowing buds of different hues at their tips. The grass seemed to be surrounded by a light blue magical mist that wafted through the land with the wind, and the trees that seemed to had sprouted here of their own accord -and were scattered sporadically- bore fruit of many kinds and glowing colors. Moonchilde wondered if they were safe to eat, but decided against it. He didn’t have time to be sick.

He had asked Lisevinde for directions, and she said she’d tell him where the Preceptor lived, since she didn’t want to come with him, disliking the older mage enough to avoid seeing even a strand of fabric from his robes.

Moonchilde couldn’t blame her. The old man was odd enough, and he seemed to be very ambitious, which while not an inherently bad trait, tends to bring about conflict in courts.

Lise said it was the second of the three sisters. Tall slender towers of Carian make, placed irregularly near a path that reached all the way to Ranni’s rise; The princess’s own stargazing tower.

Seeing as there were only three of them in the manor, and only high ranking mages could use them as they willed, Moonchilde assumed that stargazing was not something every single Carian could do on a whim. Lisevinde did express a subtle interest in visiting one of the towers some day. Perhaps he’d help her with it if he could. One of them was constantly vacant anyway, and he doubted Ranni would mind.

The second sister was probably the second tower along the path (if the Carians followed logic at all.) The knight approached it and was greeted by two moving puppets, animated by magic and dressed in plain rags. A curious spell this was. It could definitely prove useful with a strong enough puppet.

The puppets opened the door for him and motioned him in. The Preceptor’s voice could be heard from the very top of the tower. “Oh! You have come so soon! I’m so delighted to see you O’ Moonchilde! Come up, come up!”

Moonchilde didn’t quite share his excitement, but at least he looked for a way to go up. He walked to the middle of the tower’s interior and looked up. There were many levels to it, but no stairs whatsoever. In that moment, he felt magic flow beneath him. Upon looking down he noticed that a circular slab that was carved into the floor had started moving upwards. It was levitating, and it fit perfectly into the holes in the floor present on all other levels.

Elegant artistic plant-like symbols were carved all over the stone and glowed with a strong and potent magic, remnants of which flowed outward, creating a light blue mist in the levels the elevating stone passed by.

It appeared that the Preceptor was busy (generally speaking). Every level in his tower seemed to be in a state that conveyed unfinished business. The first level looked like a workshop- filled to the brim with wood-carved puppets. Others big, others small, and others giant and tiny. They were in different stages of completion, and were either slumped against a wall or furniture, splayed on top of a workbench, or hung up on the ceiling from multiple strings (as puppets tend to be).

The second floor was full of glowing magic crystals of various colours. Some green, others blue, and many hues in between. They were being used to make staves and magic-fueled devices, though admittedly there were only two staves being made, and one device he could not discern the use of. It looked like a circular crystal piece. A clear-cut gem that was neatly placed atop a pillar of carved stone. Somehow he felt that it wasn’t just a random crafts project.

Seluvis was working on the third floor, and now, Moonchilde had reached him; though he was not too enthused to be here.

“Preceptor Seluvis, sir.” The knight said loudly- as if addressing his knight-commander.

The mage was working on something over a workbench. Whatever it was, it was sending strands of deep blue magic out of a crystalline film that lined a circular hole in the ceiling. What the Preceptor was doing exactly he couldn’t understand. He appeared to be fiddling with some sort of blue dust, pouring and augmenting magic in it.

“You need not address me as such, O’ Moonchilde. If anything- you lay quite a ways above me in rank. You’re the legendary mage said to be able to stand by our princess, Lady Ranni. I am but a simple Preceptor and teacher.” And with that he gathered the dust in a bowl, and poured some sort of liquid into it. He then promptly ground the dust into a fine powder using a pestle. Lastly, he poured the liquid part of it through a metallic strainer, and collected it in a bottle.

Feeling like his time was being wasted, Moonchilde took it upon him to start talking to the old man. “So. What did you want to see me about, Preceptor? I recall it being a matter of destiny.”

“Ah- yes.” Said the old mage, pocketing the bottle after placing a cap on it. Though it was not visible under the visage he wore, he sounded quite excited. “I have reason to believe that fate can be cheated. Our destinies can be steered, and we can be in control. No- I’m certain of it.” The man appeared to be conscious of whether or not the knight believed him or not, so he hurried to the part where he explained his hypothesis.

“Our prophecies come from the stars. We read them. Every respectable mage does. We have done it since the first stargazer. Since the one who first looked upon the moon and stars and saw greatness. The splendor of Caria deep within. That is all well and good. The Carians had everything to gain, did they not? They simply had to follow the stars’ instructions, and they did, willingly. In time however- it became known that they weren’t instructions, but what WOULD be. It was simply the future, and every single Carian wanted to know their own.” The Preceptor chuckled. “You may see how a most unfortunate old mage with death written into his future might want to change that, for obviously, not every destiny is bright.” The preceptor paced around with his staff as he spoke, but eventually moved toward one side of the tower. To something obscured by drapes. “An old man like that would conduct research. Strenuous, risky, dangerous research… And eventually, he would figure out the truth.” He turned around to continue speaking to Moonchilde, who was listening intently with a grave expression. “And I did.” He remarked proudly. “I just had to look where us Carians never would have wanted to… The Golden Order… By use of espionage, I got a hold on this… From our Queen’s great library.” He said as he pulled a book out of his robe. A leather-bound brown book. It looked quite ordinary, save from a tuft of red hair hanging out of its pages. It appeared to be used like a sort of bookmark.

To tell you the truth, Moonchilde was not impressed, though he was willing to listen to more of this man's ramblings, though only under Ranni’s orders. He felt like the matter of procuring her a vessel was much more pressing than listening to a mad old man. In lack of any real interest in what he was saying, Moonchilde said the first thing that came to mind in response to what he was seeing.

“Are you saying you stole this book?” He said with his arms crossed, raising a brow at the preceptor.

The old man shifted, bringing the book closer to his chest. “N- No. I simply borrowed it. Our Queen has no use for it nowadays. They say she only talks to herself and nothing else..” He paused. “May she find her health soon” He continued, raising a hand in ‘prayer’ suddenly, as if he had forgotten to say his lines in a play.

“Within this book..” He started again. “Lie many secrets… A view unobstructed by faith! A view also unobstructed by the haughtiness a learned scholar is prone to… This is the personal journal of our king… Radagon.” The preceptor finished, and Moonchilde was finally hooked

Chapter Text

Stormveil Castle Gate
Raphael

 

Lesta groaned as the Omen landed a hit against his sword with its own, made of material light. He was pushed back a great distance. Raphael and Eitan dashed by him, going in for a joint attack. With both of their swords raised they aimed to create openings for one another. This was the eleventh charge, each and every one left them more battered than the last as the Omen still managed to get many hits in against them. Raphael thought it had to be skill, but after the fifth time he realized that he was just that much faster than them. Whenever they attacked, the Omen retaliated despite another one of them being there to punish something like that.

It was in vain, all of it. The Fell Omen was a legend for a reason. He was just realizing that.
“Slow the bastard down!” Lesta cried out as he charged forward as well, his every step an earthquake.

‘I don’t really have much agency here, but I’ll try.’ Raphael thought to himself as he thrust his sword forward, only to be blocked by a spectral dagger and then stabbed in the side, a piece of his armor falling off. It wasn’t the first time this happened, and it wouldn’t be the last. If this kept up, they would all meet their ends soon. The knight’s armor was already missing many pieces, and they weren’t growing back. It appeared there was a limit to his new powers. He’d guessed so already, but without them he wouldn’t stand a chance.

His chestplate and helmet were near completely gone, exposing his chainmail and bare face beneath. Bright green eyes lay upon the Omen, filled with determination, and right before the legend leapt away again to dodge Lesta, Raphael noticed a tinge of hesitation within it. He didn’t have time to think about why, only about the advantage it gave him.

This speed wasn’t, couldn’t be natural. It had to be magic, just like his spectral weapons. The thought made sense to him, since the Omen was perpetually covered in wisps of gold. That was it. The enchantment. The knight ran forward, then stood, awaiting his allies.

“Do you have a plan this time, or are we running at him aimlessly again? Because from what you can see, that’s not working now is it?” Lesta growled at him, panting.

The knight closed his eyes as he breathed in the air, pure life filling his lungs. He then let a breath out and reframed his mind and plan. This would be it. “One more.” Raphael ordered. Eitan caught up to them, breathing heavily. His own armor was crumbling, blood covered his face. He wasn’t in a state of mind in which he would argue this. Melina was gone. That was all he could think about.

The grafted knight stared at Raphael for a moment, yet didn’t say anything, as he saw the confidence in his eyes. A moment later he spoke lowly. “I trust you, Raphael. A knight such as you is truly worthy of the title.”
Raphael chuckled in response as he readied himself despite a recurring dizziness filling his head. “You’d be the first to tell me so, Lesta.”

With his strength gathered, he charged, his allies charging alongside him. They all cried out in unison, as if some unseen force connected their bodies, their minds. The Omen must’ve seen this change. He changed his fighting style immediately- choosing offense instead of defense.

“Thou…” Was all the legend said as he leaped up into the air again, avoiding the charge and manifesting a large hammer out of his holy light. He then let his weight carry him downward, angling it toward the demigod- Lesta.

Raphael knew well Lesta wouldn’t dodge this, even if he was already outmatched by attacks of a far lower caliber. This, in fact, was part of his new plan.

“HOLD!” He cried out loudly, his voice nearly tearing the air apart, and he unraveled what remained of his power within his heart. In that instant, all of his allies’ injuries were completely healed, and they all experienced a heightened perception.

‘Just like it was against the Leonine..’ Raphael thought to himself as he reminisced of the day he first awakened to this energy, about a week ago.

The Omen no longer held an expression of pity. He held one of anger, but was powerless to stop what was about to come.

As his hammer neared Lesta, the demigod used just one of his four swords to deflect the attack. Of course, the Fell Omen would react to this and retaliate as usual, but by the time his mind gave the signal for movement.. He’d already been impaled. Three giant swords tearing gaping wounds into his chest and stomach. The Omen could do naught but cough up blood, painting Lesta a deep crimson. The grafted knight cried out victory, and so did Kenneth Haight’s army, that didn’t much contribute to this fight.

Raphael only stood there, the rest of his armor crumbling as he fell to his knees from exertion. Every single muscle in his body hurt as if he was completely torn open, but it didn’t matter. He saved those he could, and with that done, an overwhelming sleepiness took over his body. His eyes were closing against his will, yet he still saw the Omen staring at him, reaching out an arm to him… And Eitan cutting his head off, flying by like a bolt of lightning.

*

Stormveil Castle Graveyard

Flames had covered the mausoleum of the Golden Lineage. There was certainly nothing about Godrick that was golden, save for perhaps the hue of the flames the severed dragon’s head spewed as they threatened to burn Sorális’s eyes off. The huntress was trying to coordinate with Yura, but this battlefield was too chaotic. Too dangerous.

One thing was clear though, and both of them knew it well. The Dragon’s head was the only real threat here. They had to stop it, or tear it off, and Godrick would only be spoken of in the past tense.

Sorális felt her blood boiling again. Every part of her body was aching to let the bloodflame loose. At first she hesitated, but there were cases and cases, and this was of the sort where she could truly let go. She knew it.

Godrick approached her slowly, having the dragon’s head gnaw on rock to pull him forward, while he used the axe on his other hand for the same reason.

“Ahh… Great Godfrey… Bear witness..” He muttered to himself as the grafted dragon prepared to breathe out its hellish flames, light building up down its throat.

Upon seeing that, Sorális brought forth a piercer and dashed forward in a flash, gathering bloodflame in her sword and striking at the dragon’s head, causing a bloodflame explosion a second after the blazing slash.

The beast responded as if it still lived, shrieking and thrashing as flames spewed in all directions. Godrick yelled as the creature moved, commanding the wind to keep it down. It was apparent that doing this tired him greatly, as he heaved whenever he did so.

“Ah… You… Ah…” The demigod slurred as he got the dragon under control once more. “You’re nothing- nothing!” Godrick growled as he urged the dragon to force him forward, moving toward the huntress violently, wounding his own legs as he dragged them with him.

He slammed the dragon’s head at her, eliciting a maneuver from her, and then slashed at her with his axe, forcing her to meet the blow by holding her hand against one of her piercers.

Her weapon snapped in half in a terrifying crack, and before she could realize, her hand was lopped clean off.

Another strike came toward her from one of his other grafted arms, holding on to another smaller axe. There wasn’t enough time to block that either. The huntress brought her other hand forth, only for it to be bisected with a resounding squelch, often disrupted by the cracking of bone. Despite her body being very used to pain, this was more than she could manage. She let out a wail of desperation, but still persisted, regenerating both arms as fast as she could.

Bloodflame reconnected flesh and got to working on the bone, but even though her healing was quick, lost limbs took much longer than flesh wounds. Nothing would be restored in time to deflect the next attack, and she was too shocked to move away. She was effectively frozen in place as the dragon head rushed toward her with its maw wide open.

Old teeth sank into flesh and gnawed on bone with unmatched voracity. The huntress pushed on until the very end. Having mended her bisected arm, she pushed against the beast’s lower jaw as hard as she could, effectively pushing her back deeper into its upper jaw, but creating a chance for herself to escape at the very least.

As Godrick laughed over her cries of pain, she looked for Yura and couldn’t find him anywhere. Her only clue was his sword suddenly jutting out of Godrick’s chest. The demigod wailed and thrashed around, the dragon spitting Sorális out in a mess of blood and torn flesh. Her torn limb was almost regenerated, but with most of her body compromised, she could barely move.

Her vision grew blurry, and she could only watch as Godrick caught and threw the hunter into the ground with immense force. She had hoped that a single thrust through the heart would be enough, but it didn’t seem to be. The demigod didn’t slow down or die despite his immense size.

“He had… more than one…” Sorális muttered to herself in regret, unable to do anything anymore.

She felt her flesh sting as she forced her torn body to remake itself. The scent of sulfur lay heavy in the air as the trees around her -once carrying bright green leaves- were burning down, many of them already hot coals laying on the ground.

For a moment she wished that she had just refused Kenneth Haight’s deal for information. She could’ve just taken Yura with her to search for the other fingers the hard way, through tracking.

It pained her to think like this, but she didn’t have much of a choice… Yura wasn’t getting up, and Godrick was approaching.. To execute her no doubt.

Thinking the end was near she felt peaceful. Perhaps her struggle could finally be over.

Her final thoughts were interrupted by a sweet and soft sound. A little calling bell. She couldn’t recall where exactly she had last heard its sound, but this wasn’t the first time.
It sounded once more, nearly impatiently.

“Ugh.. Why can’t you just let me die in peace?” She muttered to herself, completely lost in a void of non-existence. A void from which she was forcefully pulled as her physical body was being carried away.

The huntress woke up and grunted groggily for a moment. Then- after realizing what was happening, she propped herself up on wherever she was sitting on, and looked around.

She was riding on Talla, Kale in front of her, and an injured Yura laying in front of him like a sack of flour. She looked back to see Godrick fighting against multiple pale apparitions- spirits that were called from beyond.

“Kale- what are you doing?” The huntress asked as he came to a stop before a door, taking to it with a lockpick.

“Oh- I- Sorry I took so long. I was readying the spirits. But-.. It seems wise to leave now, does it now?” The merchant suggested as he unlocked the door.

“But we’ve tired him out- This is our best chance! We can’t leave now, not when you just arrived!” Sorális argued as she called her piercers back to her and cut Yura free of the rope that was keeping him in place.

She then placed a dim healing flame within him, and propped him up.

Yura grunted in pain as he spoke. “She’s… Right. We have to do this..”

The merchant, who was hoping for Yura to be the logical one here, clicked his tongue and brought a hand to his face, sighing deeply.

“Who are these soldiers? The ones fighting him?” Sorális asked as she mended her sword. Fragments of enchanted metal floated back to her hilt and fused with each other, hissing as in protest while Sorális was running her hand over them, molding them with her flames. In a few moments, the blade was as it used to be.

“The camp you felled, and the ones you fought within the castle’s walls.” Kale responded

Sorális stilled at the mention of the camp, looking on over them with eyes laced with regret.

“They don’t seem to be against it. Fighting against their lord.” Yura noted as he ran a hand over Sorális’s shoulder.

“For most lesser spirits memories are distant. Their current recollection is clouded by fog.. They only readily obey the commands given to them. But… Their lives were put to good use. Ridding Limgrave of the evil they fed for so long.

“In any case.. We should end this. Sooner rather than later.” The huntress said as she suddenly jolted into action, walking toward the demigod on the other side of the graveyard with newfound determination. “Kale.. Have you got more tricks up your sleeve?” She asked assertively.

“Well-” The merchant started hesitantly.

“Do you?” Sorális pressed as she and Yura moved forward together, Kale following slowly, his hands pressed against each other.

“I do I do-” He admitted as he ran a palm over his face, ruing the moment he decided to help with this mad venture.

“Good. You’re using them to cause a distraction if need be.” She commanded as she pointed him to a patch of unburnt trees. “Yura. You’re going to help me take him down. We’re aiming for the grafted dragon again. Once that’s out of the way, we’ll have to cut his head off. We can’t risk another reach for a vital point on his main body. He didn’t fall last time.”

Kale sneaked away to the trees while Yura stood by her side, nodding his agreement before running into combat with her.

The spirits fought valiantly, much better than when they fought against her, Sorális noted. They appeared fearless and determined, as if they fought for their families. At least in life.. They lacked such things. Or so she hoped, lest she be someone who ruins lives.

Even though her subconscious actively blamed her for killing her enemies, she never reveled in it. Not like the Pale One did, not like the Grafted Monarch who was actively enjoying the massacre of spirits; not even realising that they were his very own soldiers, sworn to him out of need, greed, or out of their own fear. Perhaps even because he inspired them, for he still was a god, despite being a fell one.

Sorális decided not to give right and wrong any thought anymore. Not for today at least. She would only act. That was all that was necessary.

With all of the chaos ensuing in front of him, Godrick was fairly distracted. Distracted enough not to notice the two hunters as they sneaked through the spirit soldiers who fought by their side and made for him, rushing past his dragon and axe. They went for a leg each, and lopped them off. The demigod gave a loud wail and cursed all that he deemed holy. The dragon’s head spewed fire, burning many of the spirits away, only a single knight and soldier remaining of them.

Godrick heaved as he turned around to look at them, only to be stabbed in the back by the spirits. He groaned before roaring in anger. To Sorális this scene was clear. So enraged was this regrettable beast that he would destroy himself in an attempt to take them with him. He could have acted as a true god might. He could have been a venerable leader, if not the strongest, and people would have gathered to him and prospered. She thought of these things, but wouldn’t bother telling him. Not only because she’d kill him, but because she truly doubted that this fiend would listen to even one of the words she had to say.

Godrick rambled on about the same things he did before. Talking himself up to be a god to the point of exhaustion, and sentencing them to death for their crimes against him. Lastly he condemned his relatives, the rest of the demigods for abandoning him. Only for a moment, Sorális resonated with that feeling. Being left behind. But Yura didn’t give her a chance to think about it as he suddenly appeared right in front of the demigod, slashing at the dragon’s head. It wasn’t a ‘real’ attack in any way. He was only trying to get Godrick’s attention, which didn’t prove difficult, as the demigod immediately reached for him with his axe.

The hunter dodged time and time again until Sorális found a chance to slip under his defenses again. His head was clearly open, but as became evident from her other assaults, he could react to such attacks, and so he did. The dragon’s head was already moving in toward her, aiming to gnaw on her once more, though this time would be final.. If only it caught her.

The dragon’s head never came, because in the moment Godrick was distracted by the huntress, Yura shoved his katana into its lower jaw and out of its upper jaw, sticking into hard bone and making it impossible for the beast to open its mouth.

The dragon tried to spew fire despite this, but Sorális aimed for Godrick this time. She had ample time, and trusted in her plan. In her friends.

Her piercers met his neck and drove deep into it. Her flames built up in them and the demigod started to burn, right as the dragon’s head burst into an explosion of flames and burned flesh. The huntress knew well that was Kale’s doing, though she would probably never get to know exactly how he did it.

“I am the lord of all that is golden…” Godrick cried out as he thrashed his axe around, only eliciting a deeper thrust from the huntress, who now only aimed to kill him just to end this madness. It wasn’t an action aimed at saving the land, or dethroning a corrupt ruler. She was tired of feeling this… Hate. This anger that burned bright within both of them. She shoved both swords deeper into flesh and bone, and then twisted, her flames surging into him and consuming his blood.

Her body fed, and his own withered and faded as his lifeblood left him drop by drop.

Sorális pulled her blades out of the blackened corpse and bid them away. The swords disappeared in another burst of flames as an odd sense of relief washed over her. The tyrant was dead, and for a moment she thought of rest, but only for a moment. The blood loomed in the back of her head, an ever-watchful spectre.

Yura sheathed his katana, and Kale was handling various trinkets, working out the order in which he’d put them back into his deceptively spacious satchel. He saw that relief on both of their faces, though they didn’t have a chance to say anything.

Clamor, yelling, cries of battle, yet behind all of this was an overwhelming sound. The sound of triumph. The sound of victory.

Many of Godrick’s soldiers suddenly burst through the gate leading to the castle’s courtyard. The hunters immediately readied themselves, but it didn’t take long to see that these soldiers and knights weren’t attacking. They were fleeing. Many of them stepped over and on Godrick’s ashened remains, paying the hunters no mind, probably hoping they would act as such as well.

They did. The huntress did not feel particularly compelled to take any more lives today, and these men could be seen in a way, as pawns in a game bigger than they could understand -yet if she was to strip them of any responsibility, that would mean that a single person’s actions do not matter, and do not affect the end result-

“I take it our people won then.” Yura said as they all gathered by the gate the soldiers had come in through.

“It seems so.” Kale responded, going over all of Talla’s satchels, making sure that none of them were loose or damaged.

Sorális looked back at the dead demigod and dreaded the upcoming festivities that would surely follow such a victory. She went to look away so they could all go find the allied force, but Godrick’s body shook and rumbled.

Her blades already in hand, the huntress made to run to him and put him down for good- though she was certain, completely certain that she drained all of his blood- to the last drop.

As soon as she reached him and attempted to drive a blade into his ash covered skull, she was blown back, her heart filling with dread.

What pushed her back was an immense amount of energy, a pillar of light. One that shot up into the sky, Godrick’s body completely disintegrating as it left him.

A moment later, that pillar changed its course, turning down again and pouring itself into the castle, falling in the direction where Kenneth Haight’s army would be.

As for what it meant, both hunters and the merchant were clueless. They all shared the same feeling. Hope that this hadn’t harmed anyone.

*

Stormveil Castle Gate

Eitan

 

Old grey tiles paved the road forward to the fight they had to fight. Haight and Morne were both found. One hiding behind rows of soldiers, and the other under debris. Injured, but not mortally.

They led their forces deeper into the castle, aiming to help the others in case they hadn’t managed to kill Godrick yet.

Eitan stayed back with an unconscious Raphael, watching over the Omen’s body. Waiting for Melina to return despite Haight’s commands to move forward. Lord Edgar Morne didn’t say anything to the warrior. Eitan thought it might’ve been because he’d already had a piece of his mind. It wouldn’t matter even if he had said something. He wouldn’t budge.

Margit’s body was strewn in the middle of the paved road leading into the castle. He was disintegrating into small golden flakes slowly, being taken away by a gentle wind.

Raphael was nestled atop a pile of debris- albeit comfortably, and he was well taken care of.

“Not moving forward, eh?...” Lesta asked him. He stood over the unconscious knight with his arms crossed, all four of his blades sheathed. Two on his sides, and two on his back- over his wolfskin cloak. “We wouldn’t have won without the kid. Hell- I may even owe him my life, so I’ll stay here until he rises again.. Even if I wanted to witness or cause the death of my father, I wouldn’t make it in time. He’s dying. I can feel it… Well- if the smell of dragonflame isn’t enough. He always spoke of becoming one… In his own twisted way.”

Eitan didn’t respond. He only sat there cross legged, directly in front of Margit, having made him hold his own head.

“I take it you’re not here for the lad though, are you? You’re… Waiting for your maiden.” Lesta said grimly from under his breath, as if living through it himself. “...I… I’m sorry”
The grafted knight said quietly as he walked up to Eitan, setting one of his lower arms on his shoulder.

The warrior only looked up at him, then back at Margit.

“It’s not easy.. I know.” Lesta continued, noticing that Eitan was balling up his fist.

“She’s not dead.” He muttered to the knight.

The wind blew by, taking the golden essence Margit was turning into in the opposite direction.

“Raphael said… That she’s still here. So she must be.”

“Aye.” Lesta responded as he laid off, not wishing to irritate him further.

Eitan continued to stare at Margit, wishing him death in every way possible. He knew her. It seemed like he knew her well. How then, could he do something so horrible to her? To her of all people? He blamed himself. For being so powerless. He couldn’t stop his initial attack, and he couldn’t even keep up with him AFTER Melina was gone. The only reason he managed to kill him was because Raphael and Lesta gave him a chance.

The warrior despaired. His rage turning into regret, guilt, and then sadness. He felt all of the pressure accumulating in his head and forcing its way through his eyes.

“Cry if you must… It does not sully a warrior to grieve. It is only human, and that is what you are, above all else.” Lesta started again. “Even if, as you say, the loss of Lady Melina is temporary.” He added, mostly to avoid the warrior’s rougher side.

Suddenly, Raphael stirred, opening his eyes. His crucible armor was crumbling into dust as most of his power was drained. Despite the condition he appeared to be in when he passed out, he looked completely healed and rested. That power of his must’ve revitalized him, even though it was in low reserves.

“Ugh…” He muttered as he coughed up dust in a little cloud in front of him.

“...There you go…” Lesta said, reaching an arm toward the knight to help him get up.

“We won…” Raphael exhaled slowly as in disbelief, despite having witnessed the moment the omen fell.

“Aye.” Lesta responded bluntly. “Thanks to you.”

Raphael didn’t deny his statement. He only nodded humbly.

“Hey.” Eitan cried out from where he sat, still not taking his eyes off the corpse. “You said that she still lives as she did.” The warrior’s words were laid low and heavy. “So where is she?” He finished as he turned toward Raphael, his hands trembling.

The knight took a minute to think. It appeared as if he was feeling out his surroundings, raising his hands in front of him to feel things only he could see.

“Have you gone mad?” Eitan growled as he stood up, walking toward the knight aggressively. “You said that she was still alive- so WHERE. IS. SHE?”
The warrior yelled loudly, prompting Lesta to stand in between him and Raphael.

“Oh what, you’re his friend now? After trying to kill us all at Fort Morne you suddenly had a change of heart?” Eitan continued, his eyes red from grief.

Lesta didn’t say a word. He only stood there, immovable as a castle wall.

“Lesta.. It’s okay..” Was all Raphael had to say for the grafted knight to move out of the way.

“Melina is here.. All around us.. Ever since I first saw her… She was never truly.. Alive.. Nor is she now. When it comes to her nature… It seems to be beyond life.” Raphael explained solemnly. “That’s not necessarily a negative, as she appears to be immortal, but only as a spirit.. I do not know more of her nature, but if I wished to learn, I would ask her.”

Eitan furrowed his brows in confusion. “If she’s a spirit… Why hasn’t she told me yet?... And-.. How do you know?” Knowing more had calmed him significantly. What most helped with that was the fact that Raphael stated that the maiden was immortal.

“I don’t doubt it’s got to do with that-... mission…” Raphael trailed off as he noticed Lesta right by him.

“Worry not.” The grafted knight said as he took his helmet off. “It is easy enough to guess your intentions.. Especially from what the Omen said. You mean to threaten the golden order… You mean to mend the elden ring.”

Eitan hadn’t expected Lesta to figure that out. He thought of the man as… A hunk of meat to be exact. Not much more. Then again, it would be easy to surmise their goals, what with it being prophesied years ago, and the return of the tarnished to the land.

“So… how do we bring her back? How do we bring her back to form?” The warrior managed, his previous aggressive demeanor replaced completely by worry and concern.

“I could do something about it. For one, we know she’s here. She appears to have dispersed. That spell Margit used on her… It scattered her essence around.. Making it impossible for her to remain in her normal form… She seems to be repairing herself, but a venture like that would take an awful lot of time.. Not to mention… It should be extremely uncomfortable to have your very consciousness split into countless pieces..” Raphael explained as he kept his arms up, a dim golden essence gathering into his palms.

More of that essence slowly gathered in and around his palms, but for a long time it remained just a mass of golden energy. Soon enough, even more of it converged in Raphael’s palms, even absorbing the golden flakes Margit was turning into.

“Are you sure you’re doing it right?” Eitan asked, stepping closer.

“That was my first thought as well, but that’s not me. I brought her essence closer together, but it seems like she’s taking in Margit’s energy of her own volition.”

From that point onward, the energy took form. The feet first, then the legs, waist, and torso. Her arms and head formed last, all as a blinding silhouette of gold that was finally covered by a dark cloak, also formed of the same energy. Raphael stopped calling her essence together, and those final pieces he held in his hands returned to her as well, giving her her normal look.

As soon as Melina opened her eyes, her first action was to raise an arm toward Margit. Her palm glowed a bright gold as she made him disintegrate, absorbing all of his remaining power and leaving nothing behind. No blood, and no body. Then, she sighed before crossing her arms.

Eitan was already hugging her and holding on for dear life, but Melina looked quite uncomfortable, despite savoring the his embrace.

“Thank you.. Raphael..” She muttered slowly, as if she had already forgotten how to speak. “This would’ve taken me over a hundred years if not for your assistance.” She continued quietly, leaning into Eitan’s hug and bringing her arms around him.

“Not a problem. It was like you suddenly existed everywhere at once. It was weird, feeling like there was so much of you everywhere.” The knight said, chuckling.

“Indeed, though for me it wasn’t quite so amusing”. Melina said solemnly.

Pulling back from Eitan’s hug, she immediately started strategizing. “Now that this has been dealt with, all that remains is-”

Lesta suddenly turned to the direction of the castle. Melina did too.

“Father is dead.” The Demigod growled. “They finally did it.”

It would be impossible to decipher exactly what Lesta seemed to feel. To Eitan it sounded like anger, joy, and sadness, all at once.
On the other hand Melina seemed to despair. “We’re too late- I can only hope-... “

“What’s wrong?” Eitan asked, bringing a hand to her waist.

Melina pulled back. “It should have been you who killed him!” She said frantically as the world around them rumbled as if a great earthquake was happening. The tiles beneath their feet rattled, and dust as well as rocks tumbled from the castle walls.

At the climax of this, a giant pillar of light shot up from deeper in the castle. It pierced through the clouds and continued as far as the eye could see. Melina seemed to slightly calm herself, but it appeared as if another unexplained problem existed.

“Brace yourself.” She said to Eitan all of a sudden, as she pointed her palm up at the pillar in a motion similar to what she did to Margit. The enormous beam of light responded to this by barrelling straight for her, and crashing into her with immense power.

The maiden struggled against it. In fact, she appeared to be in the process of being broken down by it, as she was earlier. Eitan tried to reach for her, to stop her from whatever it was she was doing, but as he did so, the maiden pointed her other hand at him, and shot the light into his body.

The pain was unimaginably sharp, as if all of his being had been suddenly infested with knives. This didn’t last long. After a moment, the light was gone, and so was the pain.

“What did-... What did you do?” Eitan muttered, heaving. He and Melina were the only ones standing, as the others had fallen to their knees due to the sheer power exerted.

“What we agreed upon when you said you’d take me to the foot of the erdtree… I’ve granted you power.. Godrick’s power, this time.”

Eitan froze, looking down at his hands. His body didn’t feel any different save for the pain he was experiencing mere moments ago.

‘Hm..” The Grafted Knight hummed as he got up and walked toward where the light came from. “True power isn’t granted so easily… So backhandedly. You should’ve killed the bastard yourself..”

No one spoke. Raphael stood by the others quietly.

“We should join Lords Morne and Haight. Yura and the others should be there, too. There’s bound to be some hard-earned celebration.” The knight said, beaming.

Eitan thought so. He definitely wanted to celebrate and rest. He glanced at Melina momentarily, who nodded quietly as she brought her fingers in between his own, humming to herself contentedly.

Chapter Text

Liurnia, Caria Manor
Moonchilde

Radagon. The legendary champion. Consort to the Carian Queen. Second Elden Lord. A man, made legend, made god. He was still widely spoken of in Leyndell not without differing opinions. There were those who thought of him as a savior. As the one who had brought in a new era to the world. He preached of causality and regression, of things being inexorably interwoven, and wanting to converge into one as part of their basal nature.

It is widely believed that his new system stemmed from his study and mastery of sorcery, which he used to amplify and nearly perfect the Golden Order’s incantations. In this way however he proved that it was not in fact a matter of faith, and simply a matter of understanding and unravelling the unknown. These are the core tenets of fundamentalism, and it should be plain to any learned scholar, why the pure faithful reject it. The powers of the Elden Ring are to be taken at face value. They are not to be studied or understood on a deeper level, for it is not possible to understand a true God.

“What are your thoughts on the Second Elden Lord, if I may ask, Preceptor?” Said Moonchilde, sitting down in a chair in front of the old mage, flipping through the journal’s pages and taking note of Radagon’s beautiful handwriting and cryptic choices of words scattered among them.

“My thoughts? I dare not have thoughts that differ from his true nature, though I must admit that I have no choice in that matter. Sadly, my personal musings will never mirror the truth that is our Carian Champion, but I have at the very least, tried.” The Preceptor spoke reverently. “He is the greatest sorcerer in our history, save perhaps for Lady Ranni, though I have seen naught of her magic for many years now… In Leyndell he is worshipped, and perhaps rightfully so. He brought Carian ideas to the primitives and managed to help them reach a higher plane of thought… Well, the scholars at least.”

Moonchilde nodded. None of these were things that he hadn’t heard before while speaking to one of his brothers who was secretly a fundamentalist. (Secretly since Ser Wyll only served the faithful under King Morgott). What was different about Seluvis’s words was simply the application of Carian arrogance. “So- what do you think this ‘borrowed’ book is going to tell you, exactly? Something concerning this destiny I suppose?”

“You caught on, but no less should be expected of our Moonchilde” The old mage exclaimed as he gently took the journal from Moonchilde’s hands. “Many of the pages and the riddles within them appear to be ruminations. Even so, I read his book in full. Nary a thoughtless man would ponder issues as such.. The faithful usually do not question their faith, not as he did. He is a dichotomy of a man through and through. Fully believing in this god of his, the one that shows the Golden Order the way. This greater will… The one who speaks through Fingers… As Radagon puts it in here…” Seluvis said, tapping a finger on a page he turned around to show Moonchilde. “Sounds much like our own Primeval Current, the force of nature that speaks through the Stargazers…”

 

Grasping with eyes as Winter falls
Lost within the Carians’ halls
Treading through the golden path
Blindly cleave the world in half

Listen to the voice that calls
Trapped within its gilded walls
Forced inside a mortal’s mind
Ageless god that could not hide

Tried and tested, fought long and hard
To seek the teachings of the blue star shard
With hands of Gold and eyes of Blue
You’ll smith this broken world anew

Moonchilde read, and at first it only sounded like poetry. The knight said nothing to the mage.

“I believe that this says much more than one would think. Radagon understood -or was shown- the similarities our two worlds hold… And in doing so, he allowed me to unlock the teaching of the blue star shard, as he says. He allowed me to unlock… Destiny.” The old mage explained with fervor, holding in his hand a blue draught. A concoction he made just a few moments ago, before he showed Moonchilde the book. “Drink this O’ Moonchilde, in a moment of great need, and it shall free you, or your mistress of your destiny… For there are times when things aren’t as they seem..”

The knight reluctantly took the draught and pocketed it. “Alright. Is this all?” Moonchilde said impatiently. If this was all Seluvis needed, he could get started with what was truly pressing him. He could go find the Bloody Finger that would sculpt a body for her.

“For now, Lord Moonchilde. I pray for your safe return from your mission. I hear tell that the person you’re hunting has felled thousands of warriors, hundreds of them members of Godfrey’s army.” The mage said as he bowed, hiding a slight grin that Moonchilde barely saw.

“Has Ranni told you of this?” He asked, feeling threatened.

“No.. An old Carian has his ways in this court… You cannot think I hold no sway in this land after so many years.”

Moonchilde only left, deciding not to pry any further. The only thing this visit accomplished, was to make him like the old man even less.

 

*

 

Stormveil Castle
Sorális

With every passing cart and pack mule that passed, Sorális’s suspicions about Haight’s long term plan in this castle increased. He had brought more supplies than were necessary for the siege. In fact, there were enough supplies to keep a castle standing for over a month, and with his strategy (including sending her to kill Godrick), he definitely couldn’t have expected to need them for it. The only other explanation -though he denied it categorically- was that he intended to stay in that castle for far longer than he ever said. (Perhaps permanently).

“It takes a lot of food to have a feast this grand, Sorális!” The man explained frantically, though he dismissed the matter quite quickly. “Shouldn’t we speak of your reward instead?” He suggested as he walked with the hunters through the halls, whose banners would have been replaced by Lord Haight’s… Had Lesta not yelled at the soldiers that went to set them. The demigod was adamant to keep his father’s castle, but Lord Haight stationed his forces in it with the excuse of helping him hold it.

Stormveil was a grand and beautiful castle, many rooms were decorated as such that it was easy to deduce that its first rulers were artistic folk. Paintings signed by members of the Golden Lineage adorned many walls, as were the banners and carpets. The gold and silver in the treasury didn’t appear to be made by them, but Sorális wouldn’t be surprised if they were. Sure, it wasn’t often that a noble engaged in such activities, but if she were to judge by their existing pieces they much favored art of all kinds.

Other than coins, the treasury was filled with finely made armor pieces and weapons, all manner of gems, rings, amulets and goblets. None were signed by a maker, which was weird for objects of craft so elegant.

“You may reward yourselves with whatever it is you can carry.” Kenneth Haight -who remained silent for a long while- said all of a sudden. The man looked even more weary than he did before the brief siege. Sorális didn’t care enough to ask why. Allies they may have been, but the kind of person he was, was not at all the kind of person she valued.

“Is this gold and silver yours to grant, Lord Haight?” Yura asked the man, crossing his arms. One of the Lord’s soldiers in the back shifted awkwardly.

Kenneth Haight paused momentarily before speaking. “Of course it is. I led the attack. I orchestrated this. By right, most would agree that these holdings belong to me and the people of Limgrave, of which you are the protectors… By granting you a reward, I extend the kindness you gave them, back to you.” He said half-mindedly, as if in thought.

“..It seemed as if The Grafted Knight was under the impression that the castle would belong to him.. Did he agree to part with the treasury?” Sorális pressed.

Lord Haight brought a hand to his face, clasping the bridge of his nose between fingers. “Agh- Do not remind me of the bastard. The son of a man so vile is bound to show his true colors soon enough. He’s lucky I allowed him to live.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me…” The huntress started. “I do not know Lesta. Not at all. But from what Raphael said..” Sorális smiled as she recalled the knight enthusiastically speaking of the fight. “Lesta helped you take this castle.. While you and.. Lord Morne, is it? Were out of commission. Most of your men would testify that the omen was a formidable enemy they could do nothing against, I’d wager.” She sighed before continuing. “Believe me, Haight.” She dared, tired of the formalities. “I want to trust you with this. But I can’t help but feel like you’re stealing from a man.”

Lord Haight straightened, gaining a serious look. “I did not want to suggest this yet, but… You leave me no choice. I have more information on another Bloody Finger. A woman.” He finished quietly, looking at Yura -who was suddenly a whole other person-.

Yura’s hands had balled up into fists that were shaking. In a moment of strength of will however, the hunter simply took a deep breath, and relaxed.

“I will tell you where to find her, but I’ll need you to take on another contract for me. Another demigod, now that you’ve proven you’re more than capable of killing them.” Lord Haight continued. “Kill Lesta for me, so that Limgrave may be free of tyrants forevermore.”

Seeing Yura struggle, Sorális spoke before he could. “Your goals are much easier for us to see than you may think, Lord Haight. We have no use for gold, so now you switch it over to information. Information you know we need… You’re a sly man… And for that, I do not wish to be contracted under you again. We will stay here for the celebrations, and we’ll be off.” She said assertively. “And should your information -which I expect in written form by the end of the day- be inaccurate… I will come back for you.” She whispered to him in silent promise, her eyes blazing fury.

“Of course, I jest.” She chuckled, relieving the tension. “But do not overstep, Kenneth Haight. Keep order, but know that your ambition has no place within it.” Sorális finished, as she nodded to Yura pointedly, suggesting they should go back to the others.

The Lord did not respond. He only spoke to his soldiers, and walked down another hall, leaving the treasury. He would find another way to get his way, it seemed.
“He is a dangerous man, Yura. We should leave this land as soon as possible, lest he decides we’re also threats to his rule.”

The hunter nodded as Sorális spoke. “I do not regret our killing of Godrick.. But I do not trust the other lord more than this one.” Yura explained.

The huntress pondered as they made their way to the main courtyard where the celebration was to take place (at least for the soldiers). Workers were setting up long tables and bringing out chairs. Rows upon rows of wine barrels were set up near them, and one could smell the scent of food being cooked coming from the kitchens. Some sort of meat Sorális guessed, seasoned with pepper and finished in vinegar. She decided she’d try some of it.

“Raphael said he’s a noble enough man.. I want to believe him. I’d rather have him rule over the land we liberated over someone like Haight.” She said quietly, as they were surrounded by the man’s soldiers all around.

“Sorális!” Someone called, and the huntress turned to her left expectantly. It was the knight of Leyndell she was just talking about.

“Raphael!” She responded happily, making her way to him. “You look much better now.” She added as she stopped in front of the knight, who had had his adequately long hair braided, and his ruined armor set replaced by a new one.

“Well yeah- Lord Morne thought it fitting to have me armored again. The Omen did not show mercy to my old one.” He said with a smile.

He didn’t say anything, but Sorális noticed Yura slinking off toward Kale who was sitting by the wine barrels. They would no doubt wind up heavily drunk by the end of the night. So much for leaving in the early morning.

“Did you do that yourself?” The huntress asked as she brought a hand to the knight’s braid.

“Oh- that’s all Melina. I couldn’t do that if I tried. I don’t think my fingers could move like that without breaking.” Raphael joked, glancing at her fingers as she felt over his hair.

“Wow- you could get a hold of Melina with Eitan all over her?” Sorális joked as well as she traced over his brown hair all the way to the end of his braid. She noticed another glance of his at her hand. She finally took her hand back before he spoke.

“Well, he was quite worried. Had things been different, Melina would essentially be dead now.” The knight explained.

“If you could call her state life.” Sorális added.

“Yes, if you could.” Raphael agreed. “But in any case, Melina offered to braid my hair without me asking for it. She seems to really like doing so. Maybe she’ll ask you, too. It’s calming, and we all need a little bit of rest after this.”

“I suppose so.” The huntress nodded. “We do, though me and Yura are leaving tomorrow.. Provided Lord Haight gives us the information we need.”

“Are you planning on leaving… Like this?” The knight said as he pointed at her silver armor, which was torn in many places. Her left bracer and shoulderguard were missing completely. “How did this even happen- Especially with your arm remaining unharmed?” Raphael gaped, reaching a hand for her bare arm. His touch felt pleasant upon pale skin. Sorális smiled.

“Oh, believe me… It did not remain unharmed. This one is new.” She explained nonchalantly.

“You don’t mean-” The knight made a gesture, pretending his hand was lopped off. The huntress nodded with a smile. “I hope that never happens to me..” He said quietly, keeping his eyes downward.

“I hope so too.” She responded, giving his hand a telling look and smiling at him.

“Well.. In.. Any case!” Raphael tensed, pulling his hand back quietly. “I’ll go find Lord Morne. There is much to be done for the celebration, and then perhaps we’ll see what we do after that?”

“Sure.” Sorális responded casually as the knight started walking away, looking back once or twice. The huntress smiled to herself again, and solemnly dreamed of a world where she could just stay here forever. With a quiet sigh, she walked toward Yura to make sure he wasn’t actually getting drunk this early in the day.

*

Caria Manor, Ranni’s Bedchamber

Moonchilde

The knight stood on one knee, keeping his gaze low. Ranni had answered his summons with her presence once more. She sat on the side of her bed in front of Moonchilde, waiting for his report.

“I have already told you, Moonchilde, this is not necessary.” She said quietly.

The knight shook his head. “I may need more time to get used to that, my lady.” He explained, before moving on to the purpose of his summons. “I’ve looked into the old Preceptor, as you asked.”

“And?... Did his claims deserve any merit?” The princess asked, setting two hands in her lap.

Moonchilde thought for a moment. “No. No fruits were produced of his labor, nor did he have any substantial evidence. He did, however, have the King Consort’s journal.” The knight admitted. “I did not procure it from him in wait of your orders. I did not know whether or not you had granted him access to it. Though I admit to believing that it’s stolen. Even now.”

Ranni glanced at the knight’s pocket for a moment. “I see, Moonchilde.. That is indeed a serious transgression, though.. I don’t wish for my father’s journal to be returned. Not yet. The old man may reach a valuable conclusion using it.”

The princess sat in silence for a few moments before speaking again. “I’m assuming you wish to embark on your journey now then.” She continued a tad coldly.

“Though my wishes should not matter when yours are involved, yes, I do.”

“Very well… You seem to be in luck. I’ve got some further information on the individual you’ll be tracking. She’s known as the Pale Bloody Finger. I would assume you know of her already?” Said Ranni, the tone of her voice changed again.

“I do, my lady. I’ve heard tell of her. Most of Leyndell has. A ruthless killer in service of the demigod, lord Mohg.” Moonchilde responded, with a bit of hesitation.

“Do you understand now why I said you needed time?” Ranni asked, bringing a hand to the side of her face.

“I do.” He answered, yet not admitting cowardice or fear. “I completely understand, yet your worries are unfounded. A foe such as her should not be a problem to me.” He said and wholeheartedly believed. He felt, in part, that this belief stemmed from his ‘Golden’ values. The fingers were senseless heretics to be put down.. Faith was said to repel them. Defeat them, even.

“I hate to challenge your certainty, but I advise caution. You will take a team of wizards with you.. Ideally, I would grant you a company of Carian knights, but their number is.. low nowadays. You are one of the two faithful Carian knights.. And the other, Moongrum, has sworn to protect my mother at the Grand Library.”

“Am I allowed to offer my opinion on this?” Moonchilde asked, raising his head, looking into her light blue hues.

Ranni hesitated. “...If you intend to tell me not to give you assistance, then no. You’ll be taking a few apprentice mages with you, as well as Lisevinde, my student, with whom you’re already well acquainted… Speaking of which… She has prepared you a staff. I would have preferred to have given you one myself, but I cannot help but trust the girl when it comes to most things magic. In this regard, she is a master in all but name. Alas.. The world of magic has remained rigid for a long while.. None other to blame here than Queen Marika.”

“My lady- a choice such as this- If Lisevinde is truly so experienced as you say- why endanger such a talented sorceress? Could I not only endanger my own life?” Moonchilde protested, letting his gaze linger.

“You go back on your word, my knight. Be you a man of it, or not? I thought that your wishes remained secondary to my orders?” She said with a smile before fading away into a cold light blue mist. Moonchilde sighed loudly in frustration. A moment later, he heard a knock on the already open door.

“Afternoon, Moonchilde. I’ve brought you a staff. Are you sitting like that because you’re looking for something, or are you just weird?”

Lisevinde. He thought to himself. With another sigh, he was up.

“Oh- so you must be ready then, good!” She continued, not waiting for his response.”

*

Caria Manor, Courtyard

At Lisevinde’s demand, they went out to test the new staff.
Moonchilde held it in his hands, feeling it pulling at the magic coursing through him, but not taking it without permission. It felt as if it were a living thing, talking to him. It was made of silver, and sported multiple blue glintstone gems. The biggest one was set on its tip, looking much like a deep blue eye, perhaps belonging to a beast of crystal. The others, laid upon its length were smaller, but not less carefully made. Lisevinde watched with pride as the knight was looking over it.

It’s craftsmanship was immaculate, to the point where there was carving along its sides. It was cursive writing, though in a language he didn’t understand. He glanced over to her.

“Oh- you can’t read?” She asked him bluntly.

“No- no. I just can’t read -this- language.” He explained.

“Oh-.” Lisevinde responded.

“Well, that was my own personal touch- well, everything on it was made by me, but that wasn’t necessary at all. It reads ‘Child of the moon and stars’. It’s part of the prophecy that foretold your arrival. "Cælo mónim e astérom" -In old Carian-. I even carved some stars around it. Which took… An awfully long time.”

“You did this… For me?” Moonchilde asked, feeling a tightness in his chest. He couldn’t begin to express how grateful he was to her.

“No.” She hurried to say. “I did it because I was extremely interested in your magic circulation. I made you a staff that reflected the amount of magic you exert to the point. This way you’ll be able to easily control the size of your spells. I’m certain that if you were to attempt another glintstone pebble, it’d be the correct size this time.”

Moonchilde remained dumbfounded, yet genuinely smiled a moment later. “I understand.” He stated as he held the staff forward, and repeated the process required to cast the pebble. Forward flow, moderate spin, and just a little bit of an inward push. A tiny pebble was flung toward Lisevinde. She easily deflected it by bringing her own staff forward and creating a barrier invisible to the magically untouched. “Sharp as ever.” Said Moonchilde.

“This was to be expected.” Lisevinde smiled, both because of the knight’s compliment, and her staff working, which she claimed to fully expect, as she did with most things. “Now… Do you want to take a look at your armor? The princess tasked me with explaining the design to Mister Iji… I took some personal liberties- I ask for your forgiveness for that” She finished mechanically, definitely not sorry for taking ‘some personal liberties’.

“Lady Ranni didn’t mention any armor-...” The knight responded.

“I see- But you need it. Your old armor cannot- and should not be used. It’s both too damaged, and too risky to wear. You wouldn’t want our own people to think you’re a knight from Leyndell, right? Come to think of it, the Moonchilde being from there is very interesting… Just like our old King Consort…” Lisevinde said, bringing a hand to her chin. “In any case. Follow me.” She bid, and they walked once more, this time going further away from the Manor than he had ever gone since he first arrived.

“Is this Mister Iji a bit of a loner?” Moonchilde asked as they continued, his eyes going over Lise’s long braid- which was styled differently this time, held together at the end by a blue-jeweled silver ornament. She even wore a different attire over that silver breastplate of hers. A blue piece of cloth that went sideways over her chest and tied around her waist. Part of it even went down her back, reaching her knees- much like a cape would -though it didn’t drape down all the way from her shoulders, but rather from her waist-.

The young sorceress thought for a moment. “Well- you could say so, though he isn’t loath to visitors. Mister Iji is a good man, but his kind aren’t very welcome around the lands between now, are they?” Lise asked as she turned at a forking path, taking the one that led into a ticket of trees laden with magical-looking fruits.

‘How would I know?’ Moonchilde said to himself. He hadn’t met this ‘Mister Iji’ before. In fact- this was the first time he had ever heard of him. “Is it much further still?” He continued, not bothering to answer Lisevinde’s question.

“No. We’re already here.” She answered as they stopped in the middle of the thicket.

Moonchilde looked around once, seeing only trees, grass, and the occasional squirrel. “Are you sure?” He said as he turned to her again. “This doesn’t look much like a blacksmith’s workshop or-... Anything else other than a bunch of trees.”

The girl stilled, trying to understand his confusion. “Hm…” She hummed to herself. “It seems like you haven’t read the books I left in your room…”

The knight furrowed his brows and looked her up and down. “You left books in my room?” He exclaimed, surprised.

“Subject won’t read educational material of its own volition…” She said to herself as she pulled out a notepad and wrote something down. “Had you read any of them, you would've already understood what this is. I am deeply saddened to see you show up to a lesson unprepared…” Lisevinde said. Moonchilde could not decipher whether or not the sorceress was joking.

“I-...” He froze, looking around once more, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

“Try looking down.” The young witch ordered, and so he did.

Directly under him was a stone slab. There appeared to be some writing on it, though he couldn’t even begin to read it. “Is this in old Carian?”

“Precisely! Read it!” Lise said happily. “So you DID read ‘The Language of Old, Carian Riddles and Ruminations’. While it IS filled with some things I would not be interested in- such as considering the ways of the Golden Order- It DOES include a comprehensive guide on the basics. Faetus Apsalom is in chapter one- you must’ve read that.” The sorceress smiled, clasping her hands together and waiting for Moonchilde to say something.

“Uhm-” The knight hesitated again. “Help me out?...” He managed with a smile.

The sorceress rolled her eyes. “Faetus Apsalom is old Carian for Fated Position. It's a spell that connects two physical locations through magic. Here- try pouring magic into the writing- but don’t make a habit out of pouring magic in all the Old Carian writing you see- Especially if you’re not able to read it!” She spoke, scolding him.

“Understood.” He responded, pointing his staff down to the slab and pouring magic into it. Over time, it felt like its magical weight increased. Like a cup full of water. He stopped before it overflowed and-... They were suddenly elsewhere.

The scent of a forge. The careful ‘tink’ sound of focused smithing. “Woah-..” Moonchilde exclaimed. “Are we still close to the Manor- or far away?”

“I’ll only tell YOU this..” She whispered. “But it’s directly beneath the place we were just a few seconds ago. Don’t tell anyone- no one has been able to figure it out so far.” Lise’s finger touched her full lips in a quiet hush.

They were currently in what could be described as a main hall. It was a wood-built room, with a couch and multiple chairs around a table, all pointed toward a lit fireplace “Well that looks like a hazard..” Moonchilde noted, pointing at the fire right next to the wooden floor.

“Don’t worry. A ward is in place- keeping the fire in the fireplace.” Lise explained as she walked further into the building.

“Little Lis? Is that you?” A voice called from another room. Whoever it belong to sounded… Huge. It was bound to be Mister Iji.

“Good morning to you, Mister Iji!” Lisevinde said enthusiastically, her head angled upwards. Just how tall was this man? The knight walked closer to get a better view, eventually turning over the corner and being granted an unobstructed line of site. His heart dropped.

“A-... Mister Iji is a troll!?” He cried out, reaching for a sword he didn’t have on him at all. His second option was his staff, though that was gone too, forced to levitate by Lisevinde.

The troll looked down at him through a large Carian helmet. “Hmmm…” He hummed to himself. “I thought that the Moonchilde would be more refined.. I thought he’d be as kind as the princess…” Iji continued in his kindly voice. “Oh how I miss her… Little Lis?... Won’t she come see me soon?”

Lisevinde stilled. “I can’t know when the princess will come, Mister Iji… I do hope for your sake that it’ll be soon.” Said the young sorceress. “Hey- you.” She called out to Moonchilde as she levitated his staff back to him. “In Caria we don’t kill everything that’s slightly different from us.”

The knight nodded, grabbing the magical catalyst and speaking no more. Only thinking back to when he’d fought against trolls up in the mountains.. Or when his people enslaved them all, since Queen Marika decreed them to be too much of a threat to be able to make their own choices.

Seeing one now, so calm and peaceful, Moonchilde wondered whether there was any truth in what their Queen had decreed..

“Now- uh… where was I?... Oh!” Lise exclaimed. “Mister Iji, this here… Brute, is the one the armor we were tasked with making is for.” She finished with a hint of derision.

“I sincerely apologize for my reaction, and I just must give my utmost thanks for you taking the time to do anything at all for me… It’s just that.. The people of my homeland haven’t had the greatest history with trolls.” The knight explained, taking a knee apologetically.

“Don’t fret, Moonchilde. My purpose is to serve the royal family, and you are nothing if not part of it. Your homeland is only Caria, and thus you are a friend to troll-knights, and those in service to the royal line.. I must admit, your birth-city being Leyndell is.. Very interesting… The stars tend to give us such patterns.. You have walked both paths, as has our King Consort Radagon.” The old troll spoke slowly and without blame. “Your armor is ready… I believe you have a lot to do, and not much time to do it.. After the Princess’s condition becomes stable, her destiny must once again be put into motion.. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Blaidd will explain all of that to you when the time comes.” The troll said, eliciting not a small amount of curiosity in Moonchilde, who only listened and took in the information as he could get it. It felt as if he was absorbing a whole lifetime’s worth of knowledge in his time in Caria. He got to like the feeling. Perhaps he’d read one of the books Lisevinde got into his room somehow.

As the knight was deep in thought, the blacksmith set an armor stand in front of him, dressed with an elegantly built silver set of armor. It was curved more so than angled and sharp, nearly embodying the splendor of the moon. The armor set included an armet type helm with a horizontal slit for vision, silver bracers fitted with blue glintstones on the overside, leggings with extra sheets of steel over the sides for protection, and a chestplate with a large crystal in its midst. All of the pieces had carved writing on them- that he couldn’t yet read.

Over the shoulder of the set was a beautiful blue cloth with inlaid golden string that came to form the crest of the Carians. A staff crossed with a sword. The cloth piece also went around the waist and draped slightly behind it. Lisevinde stood right by it, smiling. Moonchilde couldn’t help but notice one crucial detail.

“This… Looks much like your own clothing.” He said with a raised brow.

“Well of course it does- one cannot avoid the proper Carian style, now can they?” Said she with a smirk. “But- even though it does look like the typical Carian Knight armor, there are many key differences that make this one special.. It's made specifically to handle your magical output. It will be mended when you pour magic into it, react calmly to it surging through it, and even go along with any effect you apply to it. It felt like I was reaching at first, when I was designing it, but after seeing how easily you used the staff I made for you, I’m certain you’ll surprise me some way or another. I’m looking forward to your growth” Said Lise with a bright smile. “Now put it on, we have places to be.”

“Alright- Alright” Moonchilde managed as the sorceress pulled him by the hand, eagerly explaining how to put the armor on. This elicited a chuckle from the old troll who was sitting nearby, working on another piece. As soon as the knight wore the armor set, and Lisevinde explained a few more key things about putting it on, they left again; Making their way to the Academy of Raya Lucaria. Moonchilde was getting tired of walking. Perhaps he’d learn that vanishing spell everyone used.

“What’s that in your hands?” The knight asked as they neared the academy. Lisevinde had picked something up from the old troll in secret, deliberately hiding it from Moonchilde, carrying it concealed in a large piece of cloth.

“Good things come to those who wait.” Lise said, raising a finger toward him and awkwardly pulling her hand back to support the item. It seemed to be quite heavy, though it was slender.

They walked through a vast swamp. Moonchilde had heard tell of Liurnia before. It was a close neighbour to Leyndell and the Altus Plateau of course, but he had never been to it before his transformation, and he couldn’t have known in advance just how much he’d hate the swamp. He’d tripped over twice by sliding in mud, and only when he almost fell a third time did Lise teach him the spell she used to simulate friction between her feet and the ground. If she knew of a cleaning spell she didn’t let on, but until noon, the armor appeared to have cleaned itself.

“I should warn you.. our relationship with the academy is a bit patchy, but we still maintain it. The scholars were disappointed by the stagnation of the land -and of magic-, but if you ask me that’s a result of their constrained way of thinking, not just of the absence of new people.”

 

“We all are- why would that affect their relationship with the royal family?” Asked Moonchilde, patting the last mud smudges off of the crystal on his chest.

“Because they wanted the Queen to take action against Leyndell… but… after the King Consort left her to join Queen Marika, she changed. Nothing was left of the young Stargazer who looked to the moon and created a line of powerful sorcerers… now she's locked in the grand library, holding on to the last gift Radagon gave her.. as a shadow of her former self..”
Lisevinde shook her head. “If you ask me, both the scholars and the Queen are weak. I could never wait for someone else to solve my problems, and I could never let a single man hurt me that much.”

“Isn't that-... Some form of great transgression?” The knight asked, tilting his head.

“Well, yes. But it only matters if someone hears me.” Lise answered.

“You'd be right about that” Said Moonchilde as they entered a town in the middle of the swamp. “It looks like this place wasn't always like this… if we're to judge by the half-sunken buildings I mean.”

“It's been a few years since all of the scholars moved into the academy. These houses are mostly like this because no one is taking care of them. Even when they were first built, they were supported by magic.” The sorceress explained as they passed by a tilted library, its front doors only partly above the surface of the muddy ground. “I say that assuming you meant that Liurnia wasn't always flooded. It wasn't, but the Liurnians have been dealing with the swamp ever since they first set foot here.”

“How nice” Said the knight, unable to imagine why anyone would ever decide to settle here. Well, he supposed that the high density of magic was certainly reason enough, but even for a sorcerer, was it worth it to wade through this swamp every day?

As they walked further into the town, the buildings around them seemed to be standing more upright. Moonchilde even noticed the silhouettes of people moving through the windows. Oftentimes they looked out at him and Lisevinde, but moved away as soon as they looked back. The looks of derision on their faces difficult not to notice.

 

“Feel free to ignore them…” Lise suggested, pulling up the draping blue garment that laid down her back and tying it around her waist.

Before long, they reached the center of this city, if one could call it that. In a sorry state it was. It appeared as if these people too lacked guidance, as did most folk in the lands between. These days anyway.

“You there. Take off your magical gear and wands off for inspection. The preceptor demands it.” An armored man who appeared suddenly from behind a building barked. The sounds of armored men walking alerted Moonchilde to more people. They had gathered all around them.

“We don’t carry wands.” Lisevinde corrected.

“What about these here wands?” The captain pointed to the staves the pair carried on their sides.

“There’s a bit difference between wands and staves- which these are- so if you must know, this one garners a greater amount of-” Lisevinde started

“Wait Lise.” Moonchilde ordered, and she obeyed. “Why should we hand them over? We’re only here at the behest of Princess Ranni. We were to be granted assistance by apprentice mages.” He explained.

The captain chuckled in response. “The Lunar Princess. Right. Aye, I’ve caught wind of that. Two of the mages of the academy have decided to help you… But they shan’t know of your arrival unless you grant us.. Recompense. Those pretty… Wands of yours should be enough.” Said the captain, sleazily cupping his hands on each other.

“They should fetch a good price, innit cap’n?” One of the soldiers asked excitedly. “We should ‘ave part of it as a reward- It ain’t fair for you to take all of it.”

“Oh- shut yer’ mouth Persival, you’ll get yer pay.” The captain scolded the soldier, who flinched at his words.

“It’s just ‘at we wan’ed to eat in the big hall. Wan’ed ta have sumthin more taste-like. All of the boys agree” Persival explained, adjusting his helmet (which was too big for his small head)

“Aye!” The other soldiers affirmed, clanging their metal on shields.

“Oh alright ye good for nothin’ shits. I’ll give you lot ‘alf of what I sell the wands for.” The captain allowed. Some of the guards agreed, and some others didn’t. In the end, they started negotiating new terms for the use of items they didn’t even possess.

Moonchilde glanced at the sorceress, a brow raised. She looked back with a flat gaze. Lisevinde was bored out of her mind. “This happens every time I come here…” She muttered to the knight.

“And… Did you ever have to give them your staff?” Asked the knight.

“I’m offended that you even asked me that.” She said with a grin as her staff glinted. She moved forward, unbothered. The soldiers and the captain seemed to be too focused on arguing to notice her walking right past them. Moonchilde gaped.

“Wait- Lise-” He cried out. The sorceress turned, but the soldiers didn’t react to him shouting. Not even a little bit.

“Hey- watch it, while invisible, you’re not completely sound proof.” Lise explained as she walked up a flight off stairs. Moonchilde followed hurriedly. He smiled to himself as he was finally off the endless mud and water. They had finally reached the academy’s gate. Plus, he had finally learned the secret behind Lise’s vanishing.

“Hey- is this what you’ve been using to get around the manor?” Moonchilde asked as soon as he caught up to her.

“What? No- this is just the Vanishing Sorcery. I made it myself. The one I use to get around is called Magic Form. Also of my own making.” She said proudly, raising her head up and tapping a fist on her silver chestplate. “I can teach you, if you promise to make an extraordinary spell later down the line. One for you to teach me.”

“Of course! I don’t have a clue how I’ll come to make a spell, but I’ll try.” He said with a smile, truly happy. In that moment, he decided that magic was extraordinary.

*

Liurnia of The Lakes, Abandoned Shack

Mages were rare. It wasn’t often one got to test their skills against a magically abled opponent. It was much less often that they would be magically gifted.

Iron crested boots were caressed by tall grass as the Raven moved forth toward the mages’ camp. They were out gathering magical resources. Mainly that crystal that grew everywhere in Liurnia. He had spent too long looking for information. One of the mages he’d killed thus far had some that he needed. Someone in the manor was looking for a bloody finger. One proficient in blood healing. It was her, it had to be her.

Raven glanced over all of the mages. There were three of them. It had been three of them for the week he’d been tracking them for. One of them appeared to be of a higher rank. Implanted with a gemstone in her forehead. It was said to increase magical ability, but he surmised that she wasn’t much stronger than the others; who were currently setting a fire, and were most likely novice mages. Not too experienced. Their staves looked cheap, the gemstones used on them quite small.

If he were to compare them to the two fingers that could use magic… It wouldn’t help him much. Both Arctus and Nikhan were immensely skilled in hand to hand combat, and both of them used powerful weapons. They only used magic to help them rise higher than their mortal limits.

Raven had a hard time not looking down upon it as weakness, seeing as he could easily predict the movements of every mage he had fought thus far. Adding on to that, their spells were simple and uninspired, no different from striking with a sword or shooting an arrow with a bow. To him, flesh and steel were weapons enough. In combination with an assassin’s mind, one had an army of their own.

With a flick of his wrist, his raptor talons surged over his forearms. The mages didn’t seem to take note of the sound. Raven pitied them for their dull senses, but at the end of the day, they should have honed themselves. Looking up to the stars does nothing to protect you from the harsh world down below. The world Raven was born into.

Like a shadow, Raven glided through the bushes, making not a noise, the movements of his body many a time rehearsed, repeated to the point of collapse more times than he could remember. The higher ranking mage appeared to take note of… something. Good. She wasn't as useless as the rest of them.

She spoke to the others quietly, silently observant, to the untrained eye adamant, but to an experienced assassin… clearly alarmed.

Not sharing her fortitude, the other two mages picked up their staves immediately, pouring their dreadful essence into them, preparing their spells. Again, good. Raven smiled in anticipation. This wouldn't be too easy.

Lowering his body to the ground, Raven took his signature stance. He lay in the tall grass with his knees bent, gathering his whole body’s strength.

In a flash he was upon them, but they had not yet realized. He knew they knew when the cold steel of his raptor-blades met their skin, but… alas, that would be too late for most people.

Deciding to make things at least a bit more interesting, Raven grabbed a hold of one of the two novices. Going for the arch-mage would be a better strategy, but would provide him no growth.

Out in the open he lay bare. A ghost in the shadows, only illuminated by the bright fire the novices had just set.

“What do you want?” Asked the arch-mage with a clear voice, her eyes full of conviction as she pointed her staff at him, a spell-blade forming over it.

“Information.” Raven said. It was only half- true however. He had been tasked with killing as well as finding Sorális, so they would have to meet their end, even if he didn't much like it.

“Speak, then. What do you seek to know? What knowledge could we possibly provide you with?”
She angled her head, getting a good look at his curved wristblade.

*Your eyes for not betray you. I mean to kill him now if you don't speak soon* Raven thought to himself, pressing the blade up against the novice’s throat, drawing blood.

“I have heard tell of a bloody finger operating in Limgrave. I intend to find her. I also heard that your people have need of her?” Raven explained.

The arch-mage contemplated for a moment, but only for a moment, taking into account the fact that the novice’s throat was bleeding.
“I know of one such person. She calls herself Sorális. Despite our own initial suspicions and inquiries, she doesn't appear to be a bloody finger, or at least denies it. Last I heard of her… was that she defeated Godrick the Golden in battle.”

Raven stilled for a moment. *Not a finger?... And she slayed the Grafted Monarch? To what end? She had never been interested in the power struggles of gods.*

“I’ve told you all I know of the woman you seek. I know nothing of us having ‘need’ of her, so please hand my student over. He’s not all that bright, but I do not will to lose him.” The arch-mage spoke, the green gem in her forehead glowing in subtle threat.

Raven didn’t move, thinking of his next move.

His stillness must have alerted the arch-mage, who sent the spellblade forth, aiming directly for his head, despite her student’s head being right next to it.

The assassin’s hand moved like lightning, bringing the student directly in front of him.

His eyes were greeted by the point of the spellblade sticking out of the student’s skull. A moment later, the construct dissipated.

The arch-mage’s mouth lay agape, though not for long. Again, Raven praised her mind of steel for collecting itself so quickly after such a sight. Most of his targets were usually shattered mentally in such situations.

“Why?” The arch-mage cried out as she gathered an immense amount of energy from her surroundings. Even Raven, who was incapable of any magic at all felt it. It felt exactly like it did when Nikhan and Arctus sparred. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Show me how you move. Show me how you’ve lived!” Raven had suddenly gone delirious. He rushed forward, holding the corpse of the dead novice as a shield.

The arch-mage’s staff glowed with a green light before shooting a powerful magic ray toward him. Feeling the air change, Raven let the body fall and dodged to the left. A tree behind him was completely obliterated, splintered into pieces.

“Not bad.” Said the assassin as he measured up the remaining novice, who unlike his startled- and now dead companion, had already gotten a grasp of the situation. He unsheathed a longsword from his hip. One he no doubt wouldn’t be that good with. His posture said it all.

Squeezing the blade, the novice appeared to be exerting tremendous effort as the blade lit up in a deep blue, its size increasing greatly. His eyes were glued to the assassin. Unrelenting. Unyielding. Vengeful. Oh how Raven liked it when that happened.

In a flash, he was upon the arch-mage, burying his claws into her stomach, ripping her entrails out. “This young man has much more to show me.. You.. not so much” The bloody finger explained to the woman that was rapidly losing consciousness. “What a waste of life..” Raven murmured as he turned to the novice, letting her corpse fall to the ground.

*

Limgrave, Stormveil

 

The celebration for Limgrave’s rebel forces against Godrick was certainly big. More than anything it was loud, and Soralis did not like loud. She found herself walking off to the Golden Lineage graveyard where she fought the lord, going over the last few days in her mind. She felt a tightness in her chest that she couldn’t explain. A feeling of longing toward something she couldn’t yet fathom. Freedom? Serenity? These thoughts passed through her mind but didn’t quite click into place, refusing to reveal themselves as the thing she was looking for.

Godrick’s body had disintegrated into miniscule golden flakes and drifted away in the wind. It seemed like the gods of this land- or rather, those who held a Great Rune, were no longer simply physical bodies, but much more than that. It was as if they were simply raw power, one and the same with the great Elden Ring.

Soralis wondered if Eitan would be okay. By what the soldiers had said, he had absorbed the fell lord’s Great Rune, greatly increasing his power. The huntress wouldn’t have bothered. She had no need for power of that scope, but that wasn’t the reason she’d avoid it. It felt queer to her… Overwhelming. Trying to consume everything like a greedy beast.

“Deep in thought?” A voice came from behind her.

Raphael. Soralis had already heard him approaching. She lingered momentarily on the fact that she had memorized the sound of his footsteps, but only momentarily.

“You could say that..” She responded to him, moving a bit to the side on the bench she was sitting on, to make space for him.

The knight sat down by her, and they were both watching over the courtyard.

The half burnt tree that had suffered during her fight with Godrick was still standing there proudly, its leaves a bright green wherever the flames had not fallen. She truly hoped it wouldn’t die due to this.

With the ruler of Stormveil dead, a gentle wind finally passed over without the castle wailing. It was as if the land was put to rights.

“Yura said you’ll be leaving soon.” Said Raphael, to which Soralis just blinked in confusion.

“I see.. Well…We were supposed to leave in secret.” She explained calmly, glancing at him sidelong. “Did Yura really tell you?”

“Well.. No.. I just overheard Lord Haight talking to his messenger. He gave him a piece of parchment and sent him to Yura. Told him to hurry up so you’d leave, since you’re unwilling to co-operate.” Raphael explained.

That made much more sense. Soralis was quite satisfied with it. Yura going back on his word wasn’t something she’d like to imagine, especially since they had found a better understanding of each other recently.

“What’s that all about?” The knight pressed on. “You’re leaving- and you’re unwilling to co-operate? You took this castle for him. Well, we all did. I’d say you’ve co-operated quite a bit.”

Soralis sighed as she turned to look at him, her crimson eyes trailing over his bright green hues. “Melina really did a really good job with your hair.” Was all she was able to say. She was avoiding the subject, though not wholly consciously.

“Yes, but- about you leaving?... I just asked you.” Raphael persisted. “Soralis I-... Ever since we met at Agheel Lake… I’ve cared for you..” He admitted, yelling at himself internally. They had barely spoken back then. He truly doubted she felt anything of the sort, which is why he braced himself for her response.

“I’ve cared for you too. I could see how kind you were from the moment I laid eyes on you.” The huntress responded, her soft fingers running over his palm, only for a moment though, as if the harsh reality returning to her head forced her to act differently. “That’s why I can’t tell you what I’m planning to do. I know you already want to convince me to stay, or to let you come with me. All you need to know is that I’m hunting the fingers. You should stay out of this, for your own good, Raphael. You’re not like me, or like Eitan. You can live a normal life. You have no stakes in this, so just stay in Limgrave, and help out however you can.”

Raphael’s heart dropped at what she said. Indeed, he had proven himself to not be enough to help her back then, when the golden company had attacked him. A couple of humans had killed him with ease, when Soralis was already more than capable of easily defeating all of them. That was however no longer the case. “I’m not what you think I am- not anymore! I can help, I can really help. Eitan and I- we.”

“No, Raphael. I can see that you’re stronger, but that doesn’t matter to me. Its your soul. You’re too pure to bother with such things. This-... Bloodshed and slaughter is not something you should sully your mind with. You should just be happy… You should just be pure. I’d truly hate to see that light leave your eyes.” Soralis explained, a tear running down her cheek. One that she quickly wiped away with her hand.

Raphael’s expression hardened. He stared at her intently, his eyes only showing an unshakable will and nothing else. “If you died out there while I stayed back where its safe, I would surely lose that light.”

Only due to Soralis’ eyes darting down did he notice that he was clasping onto her hands tightly.

He went to pull back, and he would’ve walked away too, if Soralis hadn’t placed a hand on the back of his head and pulled him close to her. For a breathtaking moment she looked into his eyes. Her deep crimson studying him, trying to take in everything he was feeling.

She played with his braids at the back of his neck for a few moments, and smiled at him wickedly. “I like these a lot, and I might just get myself some of those. Now listen.. With what you’ve been saying to me, I might just want to stay, just a little bit… So… I’ll promise to come back, if you promise not to come after me.”

Raphael’s heart was threatening to jump out of his chest. All he could manage was a dry “Alright..”

They stayed there in silence. Soralis let go of his braids and settled next to him again.

*

Liurnia of the Lakes, Academy Gate

“Nice trick you’ve got there, Lisevinde. Mind sharing how you made it? I doubt anyone other than me would be able to see through it, and I’d like to be able to use it.” Said a lithe man in a calm manner. He was standing by the railing over the flight of steps Moonchilde and Lise were ascending. The sorceress paused, as if mortified. The knight even thought she might be afraid, but it didn’t last more than a moment. Her face contorted in annoyance as she lifted the spell, making both of them visible to everyone. Thankfully, they were far away from the guards by now.

“Who else but you would ask me to share? Have you made anything of your own, Lindeviste?” She asked the man as she walked up the stairs angrily.

“Oh, dear sister, you keep your mind closed, only working with what you find amusing, which tends to be just your own ideas. You’d still be in this academy had you followed the doctrine… It’s funny how you still carry yourself as a sorceress… Just because that princess pitied you.” The man replied, his light blue eyes staying fixed on her, not even noticing Moonchilde.

His hair was long, like hers, but not as long. It was jet black, and he kept it in a long ponytail, contrasting her braids. They could’ve looked identical, were his facial features not so angular and sharp. He looked like he was carved of stone, whereas Lisevinde was akin to something made of malleable material, and guided to be this soft and pleasant mix of goodness.

“I’m assuming you’re siblings, given the similarities, and the oddly flipped around names.” Said Moonchilde. Only then did Lindeviste consider him, looking over him with a hint of slight amusement. His lip curled up, only a little bit.

“You deduce correctly, Moonchilde.” He said calmly. “Our parents appeared to think it would make them seem more interesting, were they to name us as such. Interestingly enough, both me and my sister have opted to not use our family names. I know not about her, but I wouldn’t give them any credit for myself.”

While Lindeviste was talking, Lise made her way to him. She finally stopped directly in front of him, unlatched her want, and shot a comet directly into his chest. Moonchilde gasped as he ran toward her. “Lise!? What are you doing??”

The man’s corpse fell to the ground with a thud. Lisevinde only looked on, still seething with anger. “Don’t worry. It’s not really him.”

“What do you mean its not him? There’s a hole in his chest! His arm is twitching! You killed him!” The knight panicked, kneeling next to the corpse, holding on to his hand, but feeling no warmth. How could a body be cold so soon after death, or during it?

Lisevinde clicked her tongue in annoyance and looked around. “Come out Lindeviste. I know well that wasn’t really you. You would have never let me strike you down like this.”

A chuckle sounded from right next to her right before another man appeared. One identical to the corpse. Moonchilde looked between the two, and noticed a disparity in the amount of magic in them. The corpse was nearly empty, which was odd, but he just assumed that Lindeviste was just weak. No. That was so far from the truth. The man that just appeared had a terrifying amount of magic to him. Much more than Lise. His power was just shy of Ranni’s.

“Good observation, sister.” The real one spoke, just as the other one dissipated and returned to him as power. He shot a scornful glance at Moonchilde for not realizing it was a clone before turning to his sister. “I see your power hasn’t grown at all.. Or has it? Honestly I wouldn’t notice. It's so light and faded I can barely feel it at all.”

“You’re as insufferable as ever, brother. I see life hasn’t put you in your place yet. With wits as dull as yours, you should be on cleaning duty. Every day.” Lise said through clenched teeth.

Her brother only laughed in response, genuinely, it appears. “Your invisibility spell was simple enough for me to copy it in a few minutes. It seems like the princess has quite an odd view of what a ‘genius’ is.”

Something flicked the back of Lindeviste’s head. Eliciting a yelp of surprise as he brought his hand back to it. “So was your clone spell.” Said Lise as she suddenly appeared, the one Moonchilde thought to be the original disappearing.

“How did you do that? I thought you were right in front of me the whole time!” The sorcerer cried out. “Please tell me how, Lise!” He repeated, much like a little kid.

Lisevinde looked smug. Proud of herself. “It was quite simple, actually. I can’t help you if you can’t understand it at first glance.” She’d crossed her arms. Gloating. Inflating her already inflated ego even more.

After a back and forth that felt too long, Lindeviste stopped asking her how she did whatever she did, and Moonchilde managed to get him to talk about the subject at hand.

“Where are the novices that were supposed to meet up with us? We were promised the academy’s support in this.” Said the knight, his hand laying on his sword’s hilt lazily.

The sorcerer looked off as he spoke. “Well… I will be replacing them. I’ll be the one to assist you, for more than one reason. Firstly, the novices who were going to help you… Are missing- or rather, found. Found dead.” He explained quietly, as if hoping no one else would hear. “An archmage died with them.. Lenore.” Lindeviste said solemnly.

Surprisingly enough, Lisevinde actually seemed distraught to hear that. They must’ve been friends, then.

“So, while at first we didn’t listen to you, we now take this situation very seriously. The assailant was a Bloody Finger of Mohg. Could be the one you’re looking for… So now we know where to look.” Said Lindeviste, who, quite like his sister, didn’t hide anything when he spoke. Not taking the princess seriously isn’t a mistake one simply walks away from.

Despite that, Moonchilde chose to ignore it. If the man was anything like his sister, he was probably completely incapable of respecting authority, unless they’d earned his respect.

“How will we locate this person?” Asked Moonchilde.

“Well. Thankfully, Lenore tagged him with her magic before she was killed. I’m positive I can track his trail.”

The knight tilted his head slightly. Lady Ranni had spoken of a woman.
He thought to himself, yet thought it better not to take the sorcerer off track. A threat to Liurnia was a threat to Ranni, so even if this wasn’t the same person, he would take Moonchilde to her. The finger that can craft his princess a body.

Lindeviste moved his hand as if to get a hold of something, and surely enough, his staff appeared out of nowhere.

It was a delicate thing, appearing to be made out of gold, adorned with deep blue crystals.

The knight noticed Lise’s judgy stare and smug smirk.

“It should be quite easy.” Lindeviste continued, pointing his staff up, and closing his eyes, as if feeling for something. Within seconds, a faint trail of magic appeared, leading through the academy, toward Limgrave.

“This is it.” The sorcerer said with a slight smile.

“Good. So when do we start?” Asked Moonchilde, almost too eager to get this done.

“Now’s as good a time as ever.” Answered Lise.

*

Limgrave, Stormveil Castle

Soralis, Yura

It had been an eventful night to be sure. Soralis didn’t expect to act the way she did with Raphael, nor did she expect him to welcome it. Something like that was a first for her, as far as she knew. It was exhilarating, yet scary. She could see it in his eyes. The hope that this meant she was staying. To his dismay, it was only another reason for her to leave. Another reason to make sure the lands were safe, or die trying.

“Thinking about it aren’t you?” Asked Yura. His armor had been repaired, as had her own. He was leading Spot out of the stable as Soralis was still getting Fiend ready.

“About what?” The huntress asked in confusion, furrowing her brows.

“You know.” The hunter grinned. “What you did yesterday.”

Soralis never would’ve expected it, but she grew red like a freshly picked bunch of rowa fruit.

Yura only chuckled to himself in near silence. He was having his fun, but didn’t intend to cause a ruckus.

“How do you know?” Soralis complained, leading Fiend out as well.

“Oh I had a feeling. I’ve had a feeling for a while now.. The boy has had an eye on you since Agheel lake.” Yura explained.

“Wait- so you just asked me on a whim? You couldn’t have known anything!” Soralis whisper-yelled, pointing her finger at him in near delirium.

Yura just shrugged, not saying anything else as Soralis seethed, having given herself away over nothing. Over Yura’s ‘hunch’.

“It’s difficult. What you’re doing.. Had I done the same back then, things may have been quite different now.”

“With Eleonora you mean?..” Said Soralis, the blush leaving her cheeks. “I don’t think that matters, Yura. Maybe what matters is what you’re doing right now.”

“Maybe so… Maybe I’ll help make sure your tale doesn’t end like mine did.” Yura’s face took on a solemn look. The hunter took each step as if carrying a heavy burden.

“Your tale hasn’t ended yet.” Soralis responded on a rather hopeful note. “We don’t quite know what we’ll find out about the fingers on this journey. Maybe the cessblood is reversible.. Don’t lose hope.” She added as she saw him shaking his head.

Their horses’ hooves tapped on the courtyard’s stone tiles as they made for the exit. The sun was slowly rising.

“I always found sunrises hopeful..” She said in a quiet confession as Fiend playfully bit her sister’s shoulder, eliciting a snort from Spot.

*

They had taken a side path around the castle. None of the Lord’s soldiers questioned them. Why would they? Soralis and Yura had just liberated their lands. It would’ve been quite ungrateful. No. All they did was nod, smile, or bow as they passed by in silence. Making not a sound save for Fiend’s occasional whinny.

The sun had fully risen by the time they were walking on Liurnian soil. They stood at the edge of a cliff, the castle behind them, and the great land of Liurnia stretching ahead. Countless hanging trees grew over the swamp, which was itself in the embrace of a multitude of hills all the way to the golden land of Altus.

A light blue wisp-light covered areas in places, acting much like mist. Magic, Soralis thought to herself. Her rudimentary understanding of it would be nothing short of a joke to any practicing sorcerer, novice or not. Their academy stood straight ahead from the hunters, and again: Magic, was all Soralis could think, because despite the beautiful architecture featuring cloud-scraping bell towers, domed buildings and the giant bridge going around the whole thing; the only explanation for the way it was structured could be that it was made with magic.

Half of the academy of Raya Lucaria was built on top of a floating rock cluster. The other half was built directly beneath it, with a bridge spiraling around the two halves, connecting them.

It certainly did look like magic, but as they got closer Soralis realized that it could be possible.The rocks weren’t actually floating. They were part of a mountain that had been dug into. Then- the Liurnians must have built both under and over the dig site. It was still very magical despite that. Even more so, in fact.

“Never fails to blow me away..” Yura admitted.

Soralis would have asked if he knew for sure it wasn’t made with magic, but didn’t. She had caught a most horrible scent, as had Yura. Her irises reddened further, and the veins in her scleras pulsed steadily as large amounts of blood flowed through them.

The scent of blood hung heavy in the air. Fiend and Spot galloped toward it at the hunters’ command. It seemed like their previous encounter with the Dark Rider had made them fearless.

A church drew closer as they ran down the hill like the wind. The huntress hoped they would make it in time, but lost hope as the scent of blood got stronger and stronger. It smelt like multiple people. Another tragedy she failed to stop.

She gripped the reins tightly, her knuckles whitening.

When the church was finally close enough, she leaped off Fiend’s saddle and climbed over the ruined building like a monster of the dark. She surveyed the area, her eyes scanning for any sign of a Bloody Finger. A multitude of corpses and spilt blood were more than enough, but the fading pool of bloodflame made her completely certain, yet also made her despair, because the finger had escaped them.

With an angry grunt, Soralis sent a fist flying into one of the walls of the ruined church, eliciting a resounding crunch. The feeble stone gave way and crumbled, sending up a wave of dust all around.

Soralis just stood there amidst the corpses as her mangled hand healed itself.

“Steel your mind- close them out-” Yura spoke, but was interrupted by Soralis, who started speaking right after a sharp gasp. Sounding as if she was out of breath.

“They died, Yura. There’s no coming back for them… I can’t close the truth out.” The huntress had clenched her teeth, trying to stop herself from speaking further. She averted her gaze as the area over her nose crinkled, as it does when one is in emotional turmoil. She tried to hold back her tears but to no avail. Tears of deep crimson streamed down her face as she knelt over one of the bodies.

“She was a sorceress… Had most likely devoted her life to what she did..” The huntress noted as she glanced over the dead woman’s blue-red robe and crystal staff. “Now she’ll never have a chance to do what she loves again.. Don’t tell me to steel my mind, Yura. How can I when people die every moment?... When they lose their shot at this wonderful experience you and I have the privilege of living?”

Yura stayed quiet, as did Soralis until her mind cleared somewhat. “This happened mere moments ago… The pool is fresh. There IS a finger in Liurnia, Haight’s information turned out to be trustworthy… And we’re on their trail much sooner than we expected.”

She looked at the statue of Marika in the ruins, still standing as it did when it was first built. Looking over her loyal subjects solemnly, granting them her ‘eternal life’. “These people did not follow you, but any god that calls themself just would have saved them. Yet they died in your church, and you only watched.. For that reason, I reject you, O’ Marika the Eternal. May your visage burn in the flames as these people’s bodies will. May you, in the cleansing flame be reduced to the same ash we do when we die.”

Yura guided the horses away as Soralis channeled her bloodflame in her hands. A tremendous amount of it. More than she had ever called forth. The cursed blood swelled and flowed in her arm, making it glow eerily. Finally, she produced blazing talons on her fingers that ripped through the air, spraying the flames all around in flashes of the deep burning crimson. This flame took flesh, grass, dirt, and stone alike. And if god statues were made of god-stone, it could eat away at god-stone too, for Marika’s unchanging visage burned away as well.

The huntress approached Yura and their horses, the church still burning behind her. The flames swelled well over the church. A promise of death. A promise of vengeance. Both to the fingers, and to whoever allows such suffering. For, if one is in power, to stay idle is to do it themselves.

Soralis’s hand still burned, and the tears on her face stained her cheeks with two straight lines reaching her jaw. It seemed like they had burned her skin in her rage, remaining on it as two bright red scars. “The finger cannot be far away. They must still be hunting for their lord… Yura… Just be ready to defend yourself when we find them.”

Her words burned just as her flames did. Yura simply nodded, handing her Fiend’s reins.

Chapter Text

Liurnia of the Lakes, Glintstone Mine
Moonchilde, Lisevinde, Lindeviste

Moonchilde hadn’t quite expected to see a scene like this. Not because he wasn’t used to it, no, but because he expected to be where he had to be in time. The magical tether had led them to a glintstone mine, where people toiled away until their bodies broke down, day and night after day and night. It appeared that just like Leyndell, no land was perfect, no matter how golden or magical it may seem.

The twins remained in silence as they looked over the corpses near the mine’s exit. Moonchilde knelt by one of the bodies to inspect it. This miner’s body had been taken over by tiny blue crystals. He almost had no visible skin on him anymore.

It looked like this tough exterior however, did little to stop the weapon of the assailant. The miner had been cut in half along the lower stomach. Two slashes on each side.

“He didn’t use his bloodflame.” Lindeviste noted, staying a safe distance away.

“Maybe this one doesn’t have any?” Moonchilde suggested, eliciting a shake of the head from the sorcerer.

“Not a chance. Lenore was powerful… She had fought many followers of Mohg before. Even the weaker ones are able to use it.. This person… There’s no way he wasn’t able to wield the cursed blood.. He just chose not to.”

“Meaning?” The knight asked. He wouldn’t pretend to know more about the fingers than he did.

“That whoever we’re hunting, will have at least one trick up their sleeve. Or rather-... Two.. Though they’ve revealed one of them.” Lisevinde explained.

“Oh really? Could you enlighten me further?” Said Moonchilde, truly not knowing what the revealed ace was.

Lise smiled at him smugly before explaining. “So. Whoever this person is, they have at least a rudimentary understanding of magic. We can discern that.

“How do you know that?” Asked Moonchilde, furrowing his brows.

“I’m assuming my sister is saying that the killer came here on purpose. They must’ve realized we were tracking them, and came here simply to throw us off.. The concentration of magic here is very dense due to the amount of crystals in the mines…” Lindeviste interrupted.

“Meaning that we’re currently uh… How do you say it? Sitting ducks. They could be anywhere around us, and we wouldn’t know.” Lisevinde added happily.

Moonchilde immediately drew his blade, Moonsilver, and assumed a defensive stance, looking around frantically. “Why didn’t you say this sooner?”

“Because there was no need to. We’re both quite certain that this.. Assailant is currently listening to us. He failed to consider the fact that his own magical essence is quite strong, since he is a Bloody Finger of Mohg.. Sure, his cursed blood isn’t magical in the traditional sense, but it is still energy… And a sorcerer who cannot feel energy, is no sorcerer at all.”
Said Lisevinde as she calmly unlatched her scepter, yawning as she did so. In that moment, something lunged for her, bursting through the water in red fury. The swamp-water surrounding the group had turned completely red, as the assailant’s raptor-blades dug into Lise’s abdomen. The sorceress gasped and stumbled back, her eyes widening.

“Lise!” Moonchilde cried out, swinging his blade at the assassin that stood in front of him, killing his friend.

The sorceress held on to his arm tightly, smiling at him. All of a sudden, her expression switched to pure exhilaration.

“As easy as-...” Lisevinde cried out, intending to say something smart, but finding nothing she liked in her mind. “Uh…” She trailed off as Moonchilde’s blade descended on the assassin’s head.

The knight nearly went off balance as his sword hit nothing. It was as if the bloody finger had moved away in a blink; his black-feathered cloak fluttering from the swift movement.

He grunted in anger, as if he hadn’t just managed to kill a powerful mage.

“You bastard!” Moonchilde yelled at him, charging him with his blade in hand; its edge blazing with a blue spectral sheen as the knight poured his magic into it. It appeared to be easier when he felt such intense emotion.

“Seen this before…” The bloody finger muttered as he dodged back, and just when he did, a ring of faint light blue magic appeared where his legs would have been just a split-second earlier.

“Crud!” Said Lisevinde, who had just appeared by Moonchilde again.

“What-? But you!” The knight whimpered, lost in trying to even remotely understand the situation.

“Yes, yes. It looked like I died. That was my brother’s clone spell.” She explained calmly, staff in hand as she eyed the finger.

“Why didn’t you warn me about this? Do you have any idea how horrifying it was?” Moonchilde scolded.

“It wouldn’t have been convincing if I told you, would it?” She argued, slapping him across the face. “Now shut up and focus. I’ve shown him more than I’d like.”
Moonchilde said nothing. He only processed the situation internally. Lise was right.

“So what now?” He asked again, feeling more like a burden than anything else.

“There’s three of us, and he won’t be able to escape us if we move appropriately. I know both me and my sister are ready to cut off his escape route.” Said Lindeviste

“Bold of you to speak of your plans when I’m right in front of you. I admire your spirit.” Said the assassin, releasing the raptor blades on his left arm with a flick of his wrist. His face was covered by a mask that looked much like a small ribcage. The rest of his clothing was pitch black.

Lindeviste chuckled defiantly in response. “I must admit, finger, that I hate my sister’s guts… But if one thing’s true, its that when me and her are fighting side by side.. we rarely lose.”

This got him a smirk from his sister, as she held her staff angled in front of her, ready to cast a spell.

Feeling useless, Moonchilde took a step forward. “Cover me. I’ll take him down.”

“Wait- Moonchilde!” Lise started, but the knight was already charging.

His Moonsilver glowed a bright blue as he poured his magic into it. A strike from a blade so charged with magic would definitely cut most Bloody Fingers right in two. Not this one though. The assassin disappeared for a split second, appearing directly beneath the blade, crouched and already striking Moonchilde in the stomach. His raptor-blades did not connect however, hitting some invisible obstacle. He moved back again in one slick slide, tilting his head at his blades, then looking at Lisevinde knowingly.

“Fancy trick… But are you the real one?...” He asked, keeping his tone measured and even.

“I don’t know. Can you feel the flow of my blood?” Lisevinde shot back. “I’ve heard that you can.”

“I can… But that… mirage.. I felt a flow identical to yours… What is your trick, sorceress? Or rather- how many tricks do you have?”

“It wouldn’t be smart of me to say, now would it?” Asked Lise, angling her staff slightly, eliciting a rapid glance at it from the assassin. Once more, a ring appeared around his legs, but it didn’t catch him. He had already moved out of the way.

“Damn it-.” Said Lise. “But can you blame me for trying?”

The assassin clicked his tongue, lowering himself and pacing around slowly. Stalking them. Staring as if trying to solve some sort of riddle.

Moonchilde glanced at Lise, or perhaps a clone of her again. He truly didn’t know himself. He figured that there was only one way out of this. He’d have to keep going at it, until the others managed to get a one up on the finger. He knew well he was slower, and perhaps even weaker than him. He could only be a hunk of meat to fight against their adversary, and hope for the best.

“Hey.” The knight cried out, pointing his sword at the assassin and earning himself a scoff.
He wouldn’t just sit by as Lise did everything for him. He was here on a mission for his Lady, and he would not have a victory handed to him. Then again- what could he do? He knew he couldn’t make himself faster. Not as fast as their enemy.

“You’ve got other things to worry about.” He found himself saying.

“Do I?” Said the assassin, still prowling, glancing here and there, gathering information like a wild predator. Moonchilde knew it. Lise must’ve figured it out. He was trying to feel for her main body, and he would probably succeed. These cursed humans were more like beasts than people.

“You do.” Moonchilde affirmed as he slashed the air in front of him with Moonsilver, unleashing its magical power toward his adversary; who simply dodged over the blue wave of power. “All bark, no bite. Show me something I haven’t seen before.” The assassin said, taking a step forward. “But know.. Your time is up.” He finished, pointing a bladed hand behind him.

Knowing invisibility no longer served her, Lise appeared, standing very, very still. She was vulnerable, and everyone there knew it.

“Sister!” Lindeviste cried out, charging up his staff and blasting a glintstone comet at the assassin, who didn’t pay it any mind, choosing to go for the sorceress, stepping to the side and letting the comet fly into the water, sending up mud.

Moonchilde heard a gasp, and then Lise appeared next to him in a wisp of her faint light blue magic, holding on to a wounded shoulder, breathing heavily.

“How?” She demanded. “HOW?” She yelled at the assassin, who only chuckled in response.

“You play such a lowly trick and ask how?... I’ll tell you, because your time in this world is limited.” He said as he walked toward them, licking his raptor-blades. “Your blood.. It is rich, you know.” He added as he lowered his hand, licking his lips.

“These clones you make… You added a flow of energy within them to simulate blood. For one that feels this flow so deeply, I must say you have surpassed imitation and found a way to make the two flows identical… What you forgot however is our ability to control or influence blood… I was taken aback, I must say, but after I thought about it, it was easy. I just had to try to influence each and every one of your creations, which are all around us, coated in your filthy magic… A bluff is all they are, unable to do anything.”

“Are they?” Lise asked between shallow breaths. Her shoulder was bleeding profusely; two slices had been cut into it, digging deep.

In that moment, more than two dozen clones appeared, all using a dagger, some shooting magic, and others simply moving in, then standing still. The assassin froze, but only for a moment. The next, he was gone, and one dagger-wielding clone fell, stabbed through the head. Another shot a comet at him, but he disappeared again, and forced another clone to take the hit in its skull, blowing up into bits.

“Isn’t all this tiring to you?” The assassin whispered as he passed by Lisevinde, only to taunt her. A few moments later, all of the clones had been dispatched. None had managed to touch their adversary.

“I’m… Officially out of moves.” Lise admitted, truly looking desperate, and Moonchilde knew she would never lie about this.

“Finally. I was getting tired of pretending for you.” The assassin drawled before running at her with immense speed. The knight went to move, but a dagger was already upon him, thrown directly into his knee, making him cry out in pain.

“Sister!” The sorcerer yelled as his staff glowed. In that instant, Lisevinde thought she would truly die, yet without moving herself, she found that she and her brother had swapped places. The assassin’s blades were protruding out of the sorcerer’s back, emitting a slick sound as they exited him. Lisevinde did all she could to not fall on her knees and cry. Instead she cried where she stood.

“You!” Said the knight, slashing his blade toward the man.

“Is this all you know how to do? Are you that disappointing? I am the Raven of Ravenmount. I know you’ve been hunting after me. Is this what you think it takes to defeat me, you imbecile? I should kill you just for assuming that.. You’ve lived poorly, knight.. Too poorly, if this is all you have to show for your life.”

Moonchilde could no longer think straight. He only thought about helping Lise and her brother… Not failing Ranni. He pulled the dagger out of his knee with a pained groan, and tossed it away, slowly limping toward the Raven, who only looked on with disgust.

A click sounded as the raptor-blades unfurled again, their beautiful curved edges shining along the top of his hands.

The knight emptied an extraordinary amount of power into his Moonsilver. It felt like a last resort. And maybe it was hopeless. Maybe he would die a needless death, like Ranni suggested he might if he sought the finger unprepared. Oh how very right she was, but even admitting it, Moonchilde would not sit there and be killed easily. No. Never.

He raised Moonsilver up high and kept on pouring all of his magic reserves into it with reckless abandon. He had no clue what he was doing, could barely cast simple spells, but was hoping that this would somehow work. He brought Ranni’s magic to mind. That cold stillness she could emit. He didn’t know how to replicate it, but was hoping the sword somehow could.

The assassin only stood waiting, probably priding himself in only moving once an attack has been launched. Moonchilde hated his arrogance. Hoped it would all be swept away when he swung his sword. He felt the cold build up around his fingertips but didn’t know if it was because of the stakes, or his powers. He knew well that the assassin could walk up and shove his blades into his head at any moment, but for some reason wasn’t doing it.

His sword finally fell. The moment it’s power touched the ground felt like an unimaginable ground had fallen upon the earth. The water in front of Moonchilde froze instantly. Hell- the water in the air froze as well. creating a tube of half frozen air going in the finger’s direction.

The knight was already moving forward, as fast as he could. The finger had dodged, but just barely. His leg was caught up in the spell, freezing his boot in place.

Moonchilde laughed as he moved in to swing his sword at the Raven, truly feeling glee. He had reached for the stars, but what he’d gleaned from them didn’t end there.

Naturally, the assassin didn’t stay still for long. He managed to dodge the first strike, but wasn’t attacking like he was before. His demeanor had changed completely. “What’s the matter?” Asked the knight, cleaving at him with swing after swing, never hitting him but always being so close.

“You…” The Raven muttered.

“WHAT?” Moonchilde cried out, shouldering at him with a thrust of his sword, the pain in his knee completely gone.

The assassin stepped back elegantly, his feet barely affecting the ice beneath them.

“You’ve changed.. So much.. Grown.. So much.. So quickly… But.. Its all in vain.” He finished as the knight ended his thrust. His blade did not find flesh. Not even clothing. The Raven had countered by entwining the two raptor-blades on one hand around his sword.

“You’re still the same dullard you were a few minutes ago!” Said the Raven, sending the blades on his other hand toward the knight’s chest with unimaginable speed. Time, Moonchilde didn’t have enough time. He needed more time.

What about space? He found himself asking. The moment during which he should have taken a fatal wound took much longer to pass than a moment ever should. What was happening?

He looked around, and all he could see was the night sky. An endless darkness illuminated by endless stars.

“What do I have to do?...” He found himself asking. Who he was asking he was not quite certain. For a while, no one responded.

“Weave thine body into the deepest reaches of the cosmos..” A voice answered. Ranni’s voice, he was almost certain.
“What does that mean? What do you mean? How?” He cried out, desperate for an answer, feeling death creeping closer.

“Let me show you…” The voice said, as two arms specked in gold appeared out of nowhere. They fell upon him, and smeared his hand out of existence- or rather, into it. One moment he was Moonchilde, and the other he was everything that had ever existed.

One of the stars shone brightly. A bright blue locked into his vision. He finally saw. He listened. And he understood.

“Thank you, my Lady..” He said quietly.

The voice did not answer.

*

Moonchilde had been impaled. The raptor’s blades went clean through his chest. No one could survive such an attack. No living human.

“What is this?...” Said the Raven, pulling his arm back before moving away himself.

“Another one of your mirages, girl? You sorcerers aren’t able to cast magic when so severely wounded! I made sure you wouldn’t be able to do anything”

“No…” Lise said in between shallow breaths, sitting by her dying brother. “It’s him…” She continued with a bright smile.

“I am the Moonchilde, fiend… While I live, these lands will not be assailed by one such as lowly as you.” Said the knight, walking toward the assassin slowly, his blue cloak waving behind him, his straight-sword angled to the side, his staff in the other hand threatening with a blue glow.

“You’re not well in the head.” Raven stated before dashing toward the knight with a speed he had not shown before. He was upon him before Moonchilde could move. He couldn’t, but his eyes could.

The Raven released a flurry of attacks. Moonchilde blocked those he could with his blade, but the others… just passed through him as if he were incorporeal. Leaving not a scratch on him.

Where the Raven’s blows should have landed, Moonchilde erupted in colorful splotches of cosmos before going back to normal. His eyes glowed a deep blue as he looked at the bloody finger balefully.

“You can no longer touch me. So give it up, and go.” Was all he said as he pointed Moonsilver at him.

“Give up?... Why would you let me leave if you being untouchable is so detrimental to me as to make me run away?” The Raven smiled at the knight slyly before disappearing.

Moonchilde called upon the cosmos once more, hoping this newfound power would help save him. He couldn’t really see the assassin anymore, but his magical essence was clearly visible to him. The finger was dashing straight at him, with no intention of attacking him. Only when he had already passed through him did Moonchilde realize that he was aiming for Lisevinde.

The knight’s hand jutted out on instinct, all of his intent focused on stopping the finger, and he did. That’s when he realized that his new ‘one with the cosmos’ ability had just one weakness. He had to be corporeal in order to affect others, and that meant that he had to be vulnerable.

The Raven it appeared knew of this before he did, as he strafed just as Moonchilde set a hand on his wrist, forcing his raptor-blades into the man’s chest.

Any normal metal blade would have bounced right off his durable Carian Steel plate. That too, the Raven knew, and he did not waste his attack, nor did he make it readily apparent that he would strike a fatal blow. It only became apparent when it was certain that Moonchilde couldn’t do anything about it. The raptor-blades blazed with an unmistakable red flame. The flame of curses. Bloodflame.

The red hot blades easily pierced through Moonchilde’s armor, despite the protective seals Lisevinde had spent so much time boasting about. His improved perception allowed him to feel every millimeter of the weapon’s torturous advance, while he was powerless to stop it.

Lisevinde could only look on from the side, leaning on her staff, next to her brother. With a pained groan, she called forth her magic, gathering whatever remained of it over Moonchilde. “Warn… The princess. Don’t come back for us..” She managed.

Her magic enveloped the knight. He felt it. He would be transported elsewhere.. But the spell failed. Moonchilde’s light blue eyes scanned for the cause.. Lise’s staff had melted in her hands, making her scream in pain. The Raven chuckled to himself, his hand pointed toward her, sizzling.

“I must admit you all… Save for the sorcerer there… Had some nice tricks. I must praise you for your cunning! Well done. Well.. Done.”

The assassin’s words barely reached Moonchilde’s ears as he felt his body failing him. He couldn’t see blood drip out of his armor, but he knew well that the Raven’s blazing blades were taking it all away. Just as he was about to die, he felt a powerful wave of magic surge through him. His mind suddenly jolted awake again, his eyes instinctively scanning the area. It felt like the finger right in front of him, yet much, much stronger.

“Could it… Could it be you?” The Raven said out loudly, sounding near-desperate. Before Moonchilde knew it, the raptor-blades were out of his chest, and the Raven had fled. He’d disappeared again like he did time and time again during their fight, letting him fall back-first into the mud.

“Lise?...” Moonchilde rasped.

“I’m here-... Shit-... I’m hurt, but I’m here…” The sorceress responded.

Moonchilde heard dragging, then water splashing, and finally he saw the sorceress, looking down at him; her right hand red from the burn.

“I’ve never taken so much time to look at the sky, you know.” Said Moonchilde, breathing faintly. “How.. How’s Lindeviste?”

Lise looked back, sighing. “Not dead yet, but he might be, soon.. I can’t take us back to the Manor with my magic..I’m all out.”

“I’m not going back. Not yet.” Said Moonchilde in a sudden surge of motivation, planting his sword into the mud, attempting to get himself up on his feet again.

“Are you kidding me, Moonchilde? You were just stabbed through the chest- by a bloody finger no less. We must go back to the Manor- my brother too-” Lise trailed off, as she noticed a most conspicuous elixir being unlatched and flying away from Moonchilde’s belt.

“Is… It supposed to be doing that?” She asked quietly. Moments later, the elixir bottle disappeared. At the same moment, so did Lindeviste’s body. Lise would have crossed her arms were she not wounded. Instead, she looked at Moonchilde knowingly.

“So. Your brother doesn’t care much about family, huh?” The knight asked, glancing down at his chestplate, that showed signs of repair. He praised Lise internally, for that was definitely part of her ‘ultimate defense’.

“Don’t you worry. I’d do the same to him, anytime.” She said, though mostly to herself, and mostly avoiding his gaze.

Sheathing Moonsilver, the knight felt around for that strong presence. It didn’t take long until he found it. It wasn’t far away. “Its you, isn’t it?” He mumbled to himself, staring far away into the lakes, through the subtle mist.

“Wait- you’re in no condition-” Lise started, but didn’t manage to finish.

“I decide whether or not I’m capable of moving forward. But you.. You’d best go back.” He said as he ran a hand over his chestplate. The holes were gone, courtesy of Lise’s enhancements on the armor, but for some reason, he wasn’t in pain anymore. He wondered why that was.

Perhaps he was dying. Perhaps he was not. It didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was that his princess got to live another day. Maybe, as a human.

Lisevinde looked like she was about to protest. The knight’s eyes warned her against that. “You’re going back as soon as you can warp yourself there. Oh- and tell your brother not to drink that elixir. The preceptor made it; I doubt it’d go well for him… I wasn’t planning on doing anything with it, but… Anyway.. Get back, Lise. I’ll handle this.”

The sorceress stood behind him, holding her crooked staff with one hand, and feeling over her wounds with the other.

The knight only walked toward the magical presence. “I’ve had a revelation.. I’m meant to do this.. And if anything comes up, the moon and stars will light my way..” He said to himself quietly.

*

Liurnia of the Lakes, Ruined Chapel

Soralis, Yura

Not even a moment after Soralis had finished her statement, something responded to her anger and bloodlust. Something with a feel similar to hers. Something desperate, and hateful.. But warm. It felt familiar. Too familiar. Like the thought of a long summer day spent under a cypress tree, well- to Yura anyway. For Soralis it would be like the warmth she felt while stargazing.. But why?

“Why?... I’ll show you.. Your heart is so filled with hate, but you know nothing.. you don’t even have an inkling of the situation, but you’ll be rash.. You fool.” A voice spoke into her head. It didn’t take her long to see her face within her mind. That silver-haired, ethereal other self.

“You again.. I know more than I need to. You’re a bloody finger of Mohg.. You have pledged allegiance to the lord of blood… You delight in blood- in murder.. I have nothing else to say to you.”

“You don’t, but I do..” The other self insisted. Soralis couldn’t stop the surging of memories into her thoughts. Old, buried, forgotten, yet they were there. Every moment she was shown was something she’d lived before. Something she felt was right.. Like when one loses something, but finds it, and remembers themself placing it there in the first place.

“Stop…” Soralis pleaded, but the other self remained silent.

*

N_k__n E____ City

Young Soralis often wondered what the stars she adored looking at really were. Fire, just really really far away? Some sort of god? She never found an answer to that, and was happy thinking of them as just ‘stars’, whatever they may be. They fascinated her deeply, having her daydreaming about reaching them one day- and perhaps she would. That- or she would study at the academy aboveground, where sorcerers lived. It was said that they studied the stars and learned all manner of things from them. That’d be nice. Real nice.

If only she managed to get away from this place.. Those who lived above had banished her people here, and wouldn’t take kindly to their existence if they ever did see them. This new lord that installed himself in the ruins near Nokstella however, promised them his protection should they join him. Perhaps it’d be.. Better with a demigod by their side.

To Soralis it was all the same, as long as she got to look at the stars at the end of the day.

“Here again?” A voice from behind her spoke.

“Arie?” Soralis exclaimed with a smile.

“Raven!- Its Raven now. I’ll go above-ground and train with the assassins of the mountain. I’ll be a Raven, like them. Then, everyone will be impressed.”

“Alright Arie, but what if I’m already impressed?” She said, her smile turning into a grin.

The boy’s cheeks reddened, but he didn’t stay quiet. “I- Well that don’t matter to me! I’ll go anyway.”

“And leave me alone for so long? How could you?” Soralis joked, tapping the floor next to her so he’d sit with her. She was sitting atop an arch, her feet dangling over a drop the end of which she had never been able to see. The old ruins they now called Mohgwyn palace lay ahead, built on a piece of rock jutting out of the abyss, lit up by giant braziers.

“My training won't be long.. I’m extraordinary after all. Big sister Tiche says so.”

“Where IS big sister Tiche?” Soralis asked all of a sudden.

“Who knows… They were contracted by a demigod recently… It's a big secret, but big sister Tiche says their target is going to be strong. Very strong.” Raven whispered.

“Hm..” Soralis hummed, not too interested in killing and assassination. “Why?... We have our own land… its underground, but we can be happy living here. There’s clean water… Animals- food! Do we really need to take the fight to them? The golden order? Aerie, we’re almost of age. Don’t tell me you also believe in the fated champion..”

The boy stilled for a second. He balled his fingers into a fist. His knuckles whitened. “Of course I do.. Maybe if you stopped looking at the damned ceiling, you’d see that there’s more to it than you know.”

Soralis only gave Arie a sad smile. “Oh.. Well.. I just don’t want to have to fight under this… great killer of gods. I don’t want to take life, nor do I want mine taken.. Understand?” She huffed a puff of air as she looked back at the young man. “I don’t want my friend to be a tool either.. Whether you’re the champion, or one of their followers.. I imagine that existence to be quite sad.”

“But it’d bring great honour! We would liberate ourselves, and each other-”

“Yes, Arie. The scripture sounds nice when you first hear it. But won’t you ever stop and listen? Our people have suffered.. We’ll take the war aboveground again.. For what?”

“You just don’t see it. We are oppressed- they keep us here against our will. We haven’t seen the sun in centuries!.. Our people- we loved the stars.. But this-.. This isn’t the night sky, Soralis… I’ve climbed the walls… reached the ceiling… They’re just glowing rocks.”

“Who’s to say the real stars aren’t glowing rocks as well, Arie? Would you be willing to have people die just to find out if they are?” Soralis snapped back at him. “Just listen to me damn it-... I lo-... I care about you too much… Too much to lose you. Be anything you want, just not a killer.”

The young man didn’t respond to her. His eyes trailed off behind her, where she too turned after noticing it. They both beheld a tall figure dressed in black chainmail, a dark near-ethereal veil draping over it. Making the figure very difficult to see.

“Alianne? Big sister Alianne!” Arie cried out, rushing to her with a chuckle, and attempting to punch her in the stomach. She wasn’t there when his punch was thrown. He ended up being picked up from behind and thrown to the ground. He groaned loudly. Soralis didn’t speak to the woman at all. She only looked off in the distance, wondering what this Lord Mohg was doing.

“Why are you here? The rest of the black knives.. Aren’t they on a mission?”

Alianne raised a brow as she took her hood off, her silver hair glinting under the starlight. Grey questioning eyes laid on the boy. “Now why would you know about that?”

“I uhm- I- well, guessed! You were all away- it must have been a mission, right?”

Alianne set two fingers on her chin. “Good.. Yes… Good thinking.” She said plainly as she glanced at the girl gazing at the stars. “Is that Soralis, Raven?” She asked.

“Yes! My friend Soralis. She’s not all too int-”

“Okay good. Young lady. I’ll need you to come with me. The council has plans for you.”

Soralis looked up at Alianne, tilting her head to the side. It was the first time she had ever been required to go somewhere at a higher up’s behest. Up to now she was simply allowed to live as she would, as most children and young adults in the Eternal Cities.

“What for?..” The girl asked, not too fond of the idea of being taken away from her stargazing spot.

“Let your parents know that you’ll be going. We’ll inform you and them further, later. Do you want me to come with you?”
“Sorry ma’am, I don’t have parents. Never did.”

Alianne’s brows furrowed. She didn’t say anything else, only extended her hand to the young girl. For some reason, Soralis took it. She didn’t quite know why.

Slowly, the memory faded, then blended into reality. Her vision was hazy.. Someone was standing in front of her. Yura next to her, looking tense. Unmistakably, the person in front of her was… “Arie?”

He wore a ribcage-like mask, a black hood, and a cape of dark crow-feathers along his back. He had finished his training at Ravenmount, then… And she… Who had she trained with?

“It’s been years since anyone called me that… Hello again… Soralis.” The assassin said softly, removing his mask and revealing a pair of gentle, loving eyes. They too, like Soralis's, were red.. A feeling in her, told her that they used to be brown.

She couldn’t bring herself to reply to his greeting. Not at all. She was flooded by an array of emotions. Emotions she wasn’t even sure were hers. “Why did you become a killer after all?... You went to Ravenmount-... I told you.. I told you, you could be anything else- so why would you-...”

At once, the Raven’s eyes broke contact. The man looked shattered, all with a single sentence.

Soralis hadn’t noticed but she had called forth her piercers. Red tears flowed from her eyes again as she struggled to contain her feelings. “Yura… I don’t really know this man… But I feel.. Love. I feel… Relief.. And I feel pain..” She said to the hunter quietly. “Please, help me if I hesitate.” Her hands were trembling, and so were the Raven’s, it seemed.

“You…” Arie started. “You told me I had to, when you came back from the council.. Why would you-... Go back there.. We’ve done so much good for our people… What are you playing at?!” Arie cried out at her, bringing forth his raptor-blades, already ablaze with cursed blood-flame. “Is this some big joke to you? People are dying because of your absence. People have died trying to bring you back! They say you killed them- tell me its a lie- tell me you didn’t kill our friends!”

Soralis’s eyes stung as tears flowed out of them relentlessly. Somehow she had managed to master her body, but her tears just wouldn’t stop flowing.. She had blocked the feelings away as best as she could. They weren’t her own, anyway. She had a mission she had to fulfil no matter what. In front of her stood a murderer, and by her, an ally.

Chapter Text

Limgrave, Castle Stormveil

Eitan, Melina

Waking up with her by his side was still a new feeling. He was certain it would never stop being just that, because how could the intensity of it ever change? He’d taken at least a few minutes watching her as she slept. ‘So beautiful..’ He thought to himself as he looked over her full lips, and listened to her rhythmic breathing, making her presence undeniable. That, helped him believe that she was indeed real.

A thing he would never guess however, is that she often did and felt the same things when she woke up first.

*

The day was slow. There was still a positive atmosphere, and how could there not be? The tyrant had been overthrown, and the people were free. All they had to do now was rebuild and prosper. Haight’s soldiers didn’t seem to be looking forward to this. Not like Edgar’s people, who had already left, just like their lord.

They started their march back home early in the morning, while Melina and Eitan were still asleep. The lord did leave his regards with Raphael though.

‘Bring your lass, we’ll drink in my halls. My people will do naught but feast this year. You lot are our own.’

“Is what he said.” Raphael stated bluntly.

Melina glanced at Eitan for a moment. “Your lass?” She asked, raising a brow with a grin.

Eitan smiled back at her. “What? Do you really think we could share a room without him thinking that?”

“Perhaps not.” Said Melina, running a hand over Eitan’s forearm.

They were having breakfast in the courtyard, sitting at a long table. The couple on one side, and Raphael on the other. Eitan had splayed his arms over the table, and Melina was caressing them gently.

A silence hung between them, which Melina took as odd. She had mentally noted Raphael to be generally talkative, but he stood there doing nothing, staring into the wooden table. Despite feeling a waning need to be distant, Melina pushed herself once more, and asked.

“Are you alright, Raphael?” As she asked, she noticed that his hair- his braids had been undone. “I-... What happened to you? Sleep on the wrong side of the bed?”

The knight raised his bloodshot eyes up at her, then looked at Eitan, then back down again. “Soralis left.. Yura too. They’re off.. Hunting bloody fingers alone. I uh… Tried to catch up to them by horse, but I was unprepared.. I forgot to take my sword with me-... Water-.. food.. I..ugh…” He said quietly. “I ruined my hair while taking my helmet off.” He admitted.

“Why would they leave like that?” Asked Eitan.

“She said she doesn’t want anyone else to be hurt.” Raphael answered, clenching his fist. “I don’t know about Yura. I think that he, too, has personal business with the fingers.”

“Do you know where they went? We’ll be setting off soon, so you could come with us.” Said Eitan, gaining a glance from the knight.

“I-... Well.” He hesitated for a moment. “They’re going to Liurnia of the Lakes.”

“That’s great!” Said Melina. “So are we! You’ll come with us then.”

“I was uh.. planning on leaving soon. As in.. Today.” Raphael explained.

“You need to rest first. You need a good night’s sleep.. And I’ll do your hair again, alright?” Suggested Melina.

“But what if she’s in danger already?” Raphael cried out, sitting up suddenly, both of his hands on the table. Some soldiers looked at him, but got back to their jobs soon after, pretending not to have heard him.

“What if one of them kills her? They’re… Monsters.. You know that- you know it! One of them destroyed the company I was part of. A Tree Sentinel- dead within moments!” Raphael’s hands were shaking.

“If they’re so strong, what are you hoping to do against them other than be a burden to her?” Said Melina.

Eitan shot her a glance, to which she only looked back at Raphael.

“I won’t be. I’m certain I could help if she just… Let me go with her.”

“You speak as if she’s not one of them, Raphael.” The maiden added.

“She Is Not.” The knight said sternly.

“I’m certain Melina was only referring to her powers, and not to who she works with, friend.. She meant to say that Soralis is stronger than you give her credit for.” Eitan tried to reason.

“I know she’s strong Eitan, but is she strong enough to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders? She knows it too, and believes that because of it, she must suffer. Suffer so that others wont.”

Melina rolled her eyes.

“It is noble..” Raphael said to her.

“...and moronic.” Added Melina, to which Raphael said nothing.

“I can’t disagree with that.” He finally said.
“We’re with you.” Said Eitan. “We want to help her too, but we’re leaving tomorrow. We’ll be organized.”

“Alright..” Said the knight.

“We’ll take you to your room.” Said Melina as she stood up.

*

“You’ve lost it then.. As they say. I thought you had something in mind, especially after what you told me that night.. The night before you disappeared.” Said the raven. His posture unnatural for an assassin. Despite his blades being drawn, he stood casually, as if he didn’t intend to actually attack.

Soralis on the other hand was ready to dash toward him. The only thing keeping her back something deep within her mind. It ran wild like an animal gnawing on its cage. Able to alter its enclosure but never strong enough to break free. “Do not speak to me, killer.” The huntress ground out as her blades caught bloodflame.

The Raven’s eyes lit up in realization. “This can’t be you! Tell me this is one of your plans- please. Soralis, please!”

She raised her blades toward him and powered her body up with the cursed blood. It pulsed through her in clear surges, carrying power wherever it went.

“Why would you do this? You told me things would be normal for us before you left- you told me you loved-”

The Raven’s sentence was cut short. Soralis’s piercers had both thrust through his heart. With a twist, she set him on fire, disintegrating his blood internally. The man screamed on and on. More accurately, he wailed, as if he were mourning.

“Please just die..” Soralis muttered, willing it all away. For some reason, all of her internal self seemed to agree with her feelings at that moment. It was only she however that truly saw Arie as a killer.

The man raised an arm up slowly. Soralis took note of it, but didn’t move. She only poured more and more bloodflame into him, hoping to turn him into dust before he made contact. “Leave! Please leave!” She cried out, but the Raven still stood proud.

“So this is how your flames feel..” He said calmly. “They’re warm..” He sighed to himself before continuing. “No matter what’s happened to you, I still feel the same… I don’t wish to hurt you, but your memory must be preserved. You will be a legend for our people, as you intended. Nerijus and Sena will have betrayed you, and I will have found your body… I will take your place as champion, just as you would have wanted…” The Raven explained as he placed his hands on her piercers.

Despite her still pushing with all her might, Raven slowly pushed them out of his chest with a continuous grunt that ended in a shout. “Soralis… Champion of the Nox born of silver… I challenge you…” He cried out after pushing her away and making her stumble. He raised his hands up, raptor-blades extended. The large amount of bloodflame power that surged within him manifested itself as a thick magical veil of red. The flames took to the bushes around them. It even danced and swayed over the water.

With a rending squelch, wings burst forth out of his back. Pitch black like the night sky of Nokron. Horn-like spikes crowned them, and proved him to be a true bloody finger of the Lord of Blood. This wasn’t like Sena or Nerijus. The Raven was another kind of foe. The Raven was beyond a simple assassin. Soralis gauged him as at least equal to her.

“I am with you.” Yura said as he brought his blade forth. He had no time to get his Nagakiba reforged, but had left it at castle Stormveil, intending to go back for it someday. “I cannot pretend to understand what is happening, but I, as you do, see the enemy here. Let us bury the past, huntress.”

Soralis regained her battle form. Her knees slightly bent, one blade held further forward than the other. “I accept the challenge, Finger of Mohg. You will die at my feet, as shall the rest of your kindred.”

“What about you?” Said the Raven, pointing a finger at her.

“The curse does not take root in me.” She said calmly before shooting forth in a blur. Yura stayed back, in a defensive position, ready to draw and slash in an instant if need be.

The raven prepared to deflect her thrust, but she strafed right before she made contact, slashing through the air with her blazing blade. Bloodflame remained in the air in a sizzling glyph resembling a trident. In the next second the glyph exploded, generating crimson flames.

The Raven appeared standing tall through the smoke, his wings having blocked the attack. Yura was already there, leaving him no room to breathe. His blade fell down on the finger, aiming for his head. The assassin flapped his wings backwards and moved out of the way.

“He’s fast.” Said Yura as he dashed by the huntress, sheathing his blade again.

“That he is.” Soralis responded. “But he’s not faster than me. He never has been, and he knows it well.”

“It sounds like you two have history.” Yura said quietly, to which Soralis nodded.

 

“As with most of the fingers, friend. Though my memories of that time do not feel like my own, this body has been a friend.. an ally… a… lover..” She muttered as she looked upon the Raven’s jet black feathers.

“He prefers to fight defensively, against me at least. Unending pressure should be a priority. We take his wings out if we can.. The rest you know.” She continued.

Yura hummed his agreement as he started walking forward, a hand on his sword’s handle.

Soralis followed, and the Raven stood still.

The wind blew at that moment, and its quiet hum was the only thing any of them could hear. A thin mist rolled up by their feet at that.

“Reminds me of how we sparred.” Said the assassin, gaining no reply from the huntress. All he got was a forward thrust by her piercers, to which he responded by jumping away, slashing around himself with his claws, forcing Yura to step back.

Soralis was upon him again before he had time to do anything, slashing forward with one sword, and then following with another. The Raven blocked the first attack, wedging it in between the blades on his right arm and pulling it to the side. The other went off course due to Soralis being misplaced, giving him ample time to slash her across the stomach with his free hand, but when he did, her sword was already aiming for his skull.

It should have stabbed right through him, but it didn’t. Soralis looked around frantically, and only saw him after she felt a sharp pain go right through her right thigh. She normally had a high tolerance for flesh wounds, but this was different. It felt like hot flames surging through her. A feeling she was all too familiar with, yet one she was currently experiencing as a normal human. She looked down to see a bolt which she immediately pulled out- being greeted by a fetid scent at that. It reminded her of that land she and Yura had ridden past.. He’d called it Caelid.

“What is this?” She ground out. The wounded Raven stumbled back, groaning in pain; hot crimson streaming out of his shoulder. After glancing at Yura, the huntress realised that he had taken the opportunity to strike. The Raven’s arm lay on the ground.

“The Scarlet Rot…” Said the assassin, chuckling. “You were the one who suggested I use it… Seems like you forgot… I would’ve never thought of that…” He said solemnly, his wings drooping down due to weakness.

“Soralis- Fire- Fire is said to-” Yura started, only to be interrupted by a rasping laugh.

“No… No. That doesn’t work.” The Raven cried out. “The Scarlet Rot is a death sentence… She will decay from the inside out… She will fall apart… And with her will die the lie that she turned on her people… She will be a hero, no matter the cost..”

The assassin’s words sounded muffled to the huntress. Her consciousness faded, and her vision slowly blacked out.

“How did I not… See this coming?” She said quietly, not quite knowing why she was so externally honest. She didn’t feel herself fall down face first into the mud.

*

Liurnia of the Lakes

Yura

“SORALIS!” The hunter cried out.

“She’ll die… No matter what.” Said the Raven, slowly walking toward Yura as he was holding the girl’s head.

“She might.” Yura admitted. “It is your death that is certain.” He threatened, standing up, standing ready.

“You do not want this.” Warned the Raven. “I am not as wounded as I may seem… I can do more than just survive this fight, hunter… I have no qualms with you.. Kill the rest of the fingers if you must… Find your love… See what she’s become.”

“You speak and do not know-” Yura started

“I am the one who should say that to you, hunter. You know nothing, yet still strive to face this danger… For what? For love, eh?... Isn’t that the greatest reason to throw one’s life away.. You know well she cannot be cured of the Lord’s influence. What is all that hope for? What is all this effort for?... You’re killing yourself, hunter. That is all you’re doing.”

“I know… That I will not be able to cure her.. Eleonora is not like Soralis… Soralis can withstand the effects… I wish only to lay her to rest… She would never do what she’s been doing.”

“Hm… No.. No one is like Soralis, or me. For we are not simple mortals.. But… Other than that.. Your conviction is admirable, and the sentiment of your words one I must abide by.. I do not want Soralis to suffer.. So I must take her life now.. The weight of our people has been heavy on her shoulders. It is time..” He said and walked closer.

Yura had flipped her over so she could breathe. Despite the wound on her thigh already festering, the huntress looked peaceful enough, as if she were simply sleeping. It felt reasonable to him, just for a moment, to let this happen. It felt reasonable for him to give up.. But only for a moment.

In the next moment, he recalled every warm memory he had of the huntress.. She was a true friend to him. She had always been by his side. He did not get to decide her fate. The Raven did, neither.

“Stop.” The hunter said, only after he had drawn and slashed at the finger. A splash and a trickle following it, indicated that his other arm had been severed, too.

“I’m tired.” Said the Raven, as his mask fell off. He was just a young man… Like Soralis. He looked down at the girl’s body and wept, silently. Yura knew now what to say. Knew not whether or not he should say anything at all.

The hunter sheathed his blade. No longer feeling threatened.

*

Liurnia of the Lakes

Raphael, Melina, Eitan

A feeling of unease set over the company as they set foot in Liurnia. There were no animals to be seen or heard, and there appeared to be a general absence of life save for the trees. Raphael could sense nothing. It was as if all of the animals had suddenly moved up north.

“This cannot be good..” The knight muttered. “And we took the time to braid our hair.” He said more to himself than to anyone else.

“Ride on, friend.” Said Eitan. “It will be alright. You’ve seen her fight. You must know that she is more than able to scare away every living thing in Limgrave.

“Right.. But what does she have to be fighting to do that, Eitan?”

The company went silent after the knight spoke. He had agonized over Soralis for the whole trip, and wouldn’t choose to hope even if it was the last thing he could do.

They rode their horses through the swamp; past a burnt down church. Raphael knew it was Soralis’s flame that did this. He cared not for the reason. He only cared about the fact that she had been here.

He remained quiet. Only speaking when he finally felt the presence of two people. No- three.

“This way!” He cried out at them, spurring his horse onward. “Three people. One of them is very sick or injured.”

Eitan and Melina followed, their horses’ hooves stamping down into the mud with great force. Thick mist had set in, covering things more than twenty paces away, but Raphael would still be able to find her. He could feel her presence, after all.

He was completely certain he would make it in time. He could finally stand by her. He could truly help. His certainty only crumbled when he heard Yura shouting from deeper in the mist.

*

Moonchilde

Liurnia of the Lakes.
The knight had seen most of the fight. He guessed they hadn’t noticed him partly because of Lise’s warding spells on his armor, and because two of them were too great of a threat to focus on other things.

Now, the finger he had been fighting stood in front of a katana-wielding man, both of his arms severed. It looked like he was willingly giving up. Moonchilde didn’t understand the first thing about these people’s choices, though he supposed that if the rumours were true, the fingers were bloodthirsty enough to fight against each other.

It was now or never. The one laying on the ground had to be his target, and even if she wasn’t, he was in no condition to continue searching after this.. It could be rough.

He covered himself with Lise’s cloaking spell, blending into his surroundings seamlessly. He didn’t understand how it truly worked, only that she pulled on a light layer of power, and gently applied it over herself. He replicated it perfectly. Perhaps he would ask her later.

He got closer, just close enough to be able to attack the assassin.

Moonchilde felt no remorse for attacking like this. The principles of his homeland were nothing like this, but perhaps the part of him that longed for the stars urged him in another direction.

Unseen, he took the time to weave an attack, just how Lise had shown him. He slowly formed his power into a large, green-coloured Glintstone Comet. The projectile flew with an incredible speed. Even the swordsman, who was unharmed, only reacted after it hit its mark, and that it did.

The Comet fell directly on the Raven’s torso, blowing up in a crystal burst, sending Glintstone particles flying everywhere. The assassin still stood, but only for a moment. With most of its upper body missing, the corpse- which was little more than a pair of legs, fell to the ground.

The knight advanced quickly. He had only one shot at this. The swordsman appeared to be alert, but still uncertain of where exactly Moonchilde was. Or so he feigned.

A slash aimed at his head came at him with incredible speed. Moonchilde got a glimpse of the man’s eyes. Light brown with a tinge of red in them. Was he too loud? Was the only thought in his mind as he entered his cosmic form, the attack going right through him.

The swordsman stood there, confused, giving Moonchilde enough time to kneel down and lay a hand on his target’s shoulder. At a glance he discerned that she was afflicted by the Scarlet Rot. That was something he couldn’t dwell on. Not when he heard horses advancing toward him. With a deep breath, he cast another one of Lise’s spells. Her warping.

Apparently that breath had given him away, because the swordsman slashed at him again. Thankfully, his first attempt was successful, transporting him to a grassy place.

He breathed in slowly.. It was the Manor’s courtyard.
*My lady.. It is done…* He thought to himself, his head thumping on the ground.

Soon after, the lady Ranni appeared before him.

“...Thank you, my dear Moonchilde…” She said to him, as she laid a hand on his forehead. “You flirted with danger much more than I would’ve liked… But I didn’t doubt you, not for a moment…” Her dream-like voice fell upon his ears gently as his eyes closed.

“The girl is sick, my lady.. The Scarlet Rot… Two fingers fought against each other… But I am certain it is her we are looking for.. I feel it.. as if told by the stars.”

The princess chuckled quietly. “You sound like a true Stargazer… My mother would’ve liked you very much… But yes, it is her that bears the ability to grant me flesh…”

Moonchilde watched as his lady stood up again and paced. “It would’ve been preferable for her to have agreed to come here… Or be in a good physical condition… “

“My apologies, princess, it was impossible under the given circumstances-.” The knight pushed himself off the ground. “I’ll take care of her to the utmost of my ability- I’ll-”

“Oh, dear Moonchilde.. I only jest. You will do no such thing. You will rest now.. And Lisevinde will, too. Though what has become of her brother, I cannot say. The fool drank the elixir he stole from you, mistakenly thinking it held healing properties. I haven’t been able to see him since.”

“You can see what people are doing from the Manor?...” Moonchilde rasped.

“Not just from the Manor, but yes.. There are certain limitations to it, and one of them is obstructing my view of Lindeviste.. Death is one of them, and one must wonder…”
Ranni said as she looked off to the side.

“Ah, Blaidd!” She said merily. “I must congratulate you on your success against our stray knight.. You came back just in time to meet the Moonchilde.”

The knight turned his head to face the man she had started talking to. Instead of a man, he beheld a wolf- or rather a half-wolf. Or a man with a wolf’s head. It must’ve been obvious that this seemed odd to him, since Blaidd raised an eyebrow at him.

“Never seen a sorcerer use a blade before?” He joked, motioning to the sword on his back.

“Blaidd is my shadow, my loyal knight, and brother.” The princess explained, setting a hand on the knight’s back. “You two will be working together from now on.. Procuring a body for myself is just the beginning. The Age of stars is nigh, but there is still much to be done.”

“Is that her, then, mistress Ranni?” The wolf said as he motioned toward the unconscious bloody finger.

“Yes, Blaidd. It is her. Soralis is her name. Make sure to reward Lord Haight next time you’re in Limgrave.. That’ll have to be soon, for it is where you shall go, but only after our destinies are unlocked, since they remain unmoving, courtesy of my brother.”

“Your brother, princess?” Asked Moonchilde, furrowing his brows. “The Starscourge. General Radahn.”

“That’s the one.” Said Blaidd. “A bloody legend if I ever saw one. Won’t be an easy task defeating him.”

The knight fought his instinct to turn to Ranni in question.

“Only with my brother’s death will the movement of the stars continue… And.. Knowing him, in his condition? He would rather die in battle than by slowly rotting to death, eating the corpses of his comrades and enemies..”

Blaidd threw a fist into his palm and cracked his fingers. His teeth showed briefly. It appeared as if he was anticipating this fight. He moved forward, then past Moonchilde, and picked up the wounded woman.

“Shall I take her to the guest room, mistress? If what she’s afflicted with is the Scarlet Rot, the Atoned might be able to cure it.. Though that same treatment did not work on your brother, I’d wager that in its early stages, the rot may truly be able to be cured.”

“You are free to try anything you think might work, dear Blaidd. I have a measure that should solve it, but I may have need of it yet.” The princess turned to Moonchilde. “Now. Enough talk. You will rest for a few days. Then, we’ll take some time to go over what we’ll do in the future. When this.. Soralis wakes up, I’ll have to hope she cooperates.”

*

Land Unknown

Soralis

In these last few months Soralis vividly remembered, she had learned many things about life. Many things about people. She found herself enthralled by the utter depth of the human psyche, lost within its complexities herself. Out of all the people she met however, none were as complex as she, though she never saw it that way, despite slowly realizing that her existence was an oddity in and of itself, for she was not called for, nor wanted, and yet she came.

“...You never fail to disappoint, fake..” The voice spoke suddenly, awakening her from a deep, dreamless sleep.

She found herself emerging through a seam in between shadows, helplessly trying to find something tangible.

“...I never expected Raven to do anything of that sort… Challenge me, have the resolve to kill me, or allow himself to be killed.” The voice continued. It echoed all the way to her, as she floated through an endless void.

“The Raven- he died?” Soralis said despite herself.

The void lit up as if reacting to her, wisps of red light climbing up toward her like tentacles.

“You’re here again.” The voice said. That other self. Soralis could see her now, deep beneath her, sitting cross legged on the remains of some old temple. Further still, a red ocean raged, yet never reached her.

Soralis found nothing to say to her. She only had questions and guilt, and because of the latter, nothing felt right.

“What is it? Nothing to say? You’ve killed my allies, my… Best friend… What else will you take? Soon enough, only my own life will remain. Though you have pretty much taken that, too. Stop haunting me by coming here, if you do not intend to give up control.”

The woman’s silver hair reached the floor from her position. She only stared down at the ground while she spoke, avoiding looking at Soralis completely.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Soralis found herself saying.

“...I can see things as plainly as you. You meant to kill Arie.. You would’ve, were you not so unskilled.. Me trying to stop you obviously didn’t do anything…” The other self retorted, sounding hopeless.

“I meant appearing here… It just happens..”

“Well I’d rather have this place to myself..” She mumbled, even more mellowed out. She adjusted her position and hugged her knees. Soralis just realized that this person was wearing clothing that felt very very familiar. A white cape, a beige flowing skirt, and a leather jerkin. A warrior… from back home.

She wanted to ask more, but the silver-haired girl had completely resigned from the situation. It was as if just thinking about Soralis’s existence pained her.

“I don’t want you gone..” Said the huntress; not fully realizing why.

“...I…” The other self started. “..Please leave…” She finished, angling her head downward.

All Soralis had to do to leave was think about it. She looked upward, and the world called to her. This space between spaces opened up, bright light seeping in everywhere, pulling her outwards.

Only one thought plagued her. She knew this person was herself, but who was she?

*

Caria Manor

Soralis

The bright morning light stung as it assaulted her eyes. It came in through an open window. She could barely glimpse the top of a tower looking out of it. It didn’t take long for her to start looking around, since she didn’t bring herself here. The Raven- she hadn’t killed him, no matter what the other self may have said.

She forced herself up, but found it incredibly hard to move her right leg, as if some mechanism within it was completely blocked. Forcing that as well, she quickly realized it wouldn’t work, as pain shot through her, worse than she had ever known.

She clenched her teeth and threw her blanket to the floor, wanting to get a better look at it. Not more than a second later, a thick, pungent scent was caught by her nose. It was difficult for her not to furrow her brows at it as she looked over the various layers of pink-stained bandages.

Someone had taken care of her wounds, but the underlying issue had not been solved.

“Settle down…” A gruff voice sounded. “Though they say that staying in motion helps halt its spread, its best if you keep your strength.”

“Who are you?” Soralis shouted as she tried to bring forth her thrusting swords, only for harmless sparks to manifest in her palms.

“Quick to resort to violence, aren’t we?” Said the man as he walked further into the room. “You, will suffice. You do not need to know my name.”

He wore white robes, inlaid with silver. His face appeared plain, the only thing standing out about it, his green eyes.

“Explain this! Where are we? Where are my allies?” Soralis demanded, threatening to get up, pushing herself up off of the bedrest, yet still failing as another surge of pain set her straight.

“You are receiving treatment. That is all I can tell you. Unless I am instructed otherwise, I will refrain from saying anything else. Understood?” Said the man, angling his head toward her with a cocky look.

The huntress only grunted in frustration. She hoped she had not gotten caught up in any noble’s affairs. She did not want to work for someone like Lord Haight again.

The man sighed as he approached. That’s when Soralis noticed that he was holding a tray in his hands. Her senses must have dulled. She caught the scent of food. Steak, sided with baked potatoes and carrots. Her stomach immediately stirred at that. Her mouth salivated. It must’ve shown in her eyes that she was hungry, since the man raised a brow at her.

“No, it's best that we go through with the treatment before you eat… Flames take me, do not look at me like that. I’m trying to help you.. You animal..” He said calmly as he approached, setting her food on the bedrest and kneeling by her.

For some reason, the huntress innately trusted this man. She felt like they had a mutual understanding of some sort.. She saw it in his eyes, that he hadn’t had it easy. That made her feel more at ease.

“Alright…” Soralis huffed, moving her right leg to the side.

“Good.” Said the man as he started undoing the bandages. His hands moved carefully, to the extent where she barely felt them.

“I am told that you are familiar with fire.. Only a different kind… Hm.. You do not seem mad though… I will need to study your behavior more.”

Soralis smiled to herself as she laid back and closed her eyes. “I’m a bloody finger of the Lord of Blood… Well… I used to be.”

"Hm... Know that it doesn't concern me who your master is or was. We all have our reasons to do what we do. My flame is seen as fell, just like yours." At that, Sorális felt a subtle warmth on her thigh, directly on her wound.

The man had set fire to his hand. He was setting it on her, and yet it didn't hurt. It was oddly soothing.

"I can feel this... In my bones.." She huffed out in relief.

"That's because the rot has rooted itself deep... Whoever dealt this blow to you, meant to kill you. They either wanted you to suffer, or didnt believe themselves capable of killing you otherwise.." Said the man, his flames now surging further inward. "You are awfully calm..."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Asked Sorális, opening her eyes just barely.

"Yes.." He said flatly.

"How come you're here?... Those of us who take to the flame rarely become scholars."

"Hm.. that is true enough.. But, girl. This is just where my pilgrimage has brought me.. I must atone for a great sin, and thus I search for the only one who can grant me absolution." He paused, his eyes softening somewhat. "This might hurt." He said. Sorális only nodded. It did hurt.

He prodded the wound with his finger, going about as deep as the bolt did. The pain struck her like a knife would, but there came no blood.

When his flame surged through her again, her pain was gone.

He removed his finger carefully, even though compared to the previous feeling it didn't hurt at all. It was as if the flame had calmed her body.

"This should be it... Starting tomorrow, if you notice weakness, you should tell me. We'll try again."

"Thank you.." Sorális muttered, feeling over the wound only to see that it wasn't there anymore. With the rot gone, her body healed itself within seconds.

"No need. I'm not just doing it for you.." Said the man as he stood up. "Just rest. They'll tell you what they want from you.. guessing from how quick that wound sealed itself.. you'll be able to do it.. the question is whether you want to affect the world to this extent..." He let out a huff as he gestured toward the food tray. "Now.. I've said enough. Please, help yourself."

Sorális said nothing in response. She only sat up and set the tray in her lap. She smiled to herself contentedly as she cut into the meat with a silver knife that was set on the tray, along with a fork and hankerchief.

After cutting it into pieces, she picked a piece of carrot and potato, then moved on to a piece of meat, and places them in her mouth.

Everything practically melted as she simply prodded at them with her tongue. The subtle sweetness of the carrot contrasted with the salt and pepper of the seasoned meat. The plain flavor of the potato simply brought it all together.

The huntress contained a squeal as the happiness of eating a home-cooked meal overtook her.

She was all too aware of the situation, but she wouldn't sour her meal over it.

*

Liurnia of the Lakes

Raphael

Blood.. Rage... Desperation.. Again... Why again? Why at all?

Raphael saw himself breathing rapidly but could do nothing about it. All this pain.. Sorális.. the finger she was fighting... The people he killed before that.. the misbegotten Raphael had fought.. oh, the people he'd helped kill during his life as a soldier. Wasn't all life precious?... Why couldn't anyone see this? Why couldn't Sorális appreciate her own life?.. why couldn't she just..

*Why couldn't she... Keep herself safe..*

Raphael thought to himself as he glanced at Yura. The hunter was standing by half a body.

The knight despaired, yet he could still feel how tense Eitan and Melina were, riding on their horses alongside him.

"I'll go find her." Said the hunter, sheathing his katana and averting his eyes. Whether it was out of shame, Raphael wouldn’t pretend to know. But he saw it clearly. The same curse that bound Soralis. The blood of the Lord. Yura had started to change, but how it had gotten to him was a mystery to the knight.

“I’ll come with you.” Said Raphael, to which he was met with a shake of the head.

“You’re going after Soralis. I have someone else to find.” Yura responded suddenly as he turned around and started walking off. “Soralis would understand… Not only that, but I wouldn’t worry about her safety. Whoever took her wasn’t trying to kill her. They want her for something.”

“You’re not serious, are you?” The knight growled as he leaped off his horse, making his way to the hunter. “Soralis is in danger, and you’re just leaving her behind? She never would’ve done this to you! How can you do it to her?”

Yura looked back at the knight and scoffed. “So.. I presume you know what Soralis would have done, boy? You know her well enough to know what she’s thinking, is that it? Please.”

As Raphael reached out to grab Yura by the shoulder, the hunter unsheathed his blade and held it to the knight’s wrist. “Stand back, and find something else to do with your life, kid… Or, by all means, go ahead and storm the academy… The mages were behind this, but they were either trying to save her, or use her.. So know that her life is a certainty for now…”

With that, Yura sheathed his blade, leaving Raphael standing, mouth agape. “Don’t do anything rash. Reason first.. Should our paths cross again, Raphael, I hope that your mind is in a better place.” The hunter finished, and walked away at a quick pace. He was out of view in less than a minute, fading away into the fog.

“Are you two leaving as well?” Said Raphael as he made his way back to Melina and Eitan. The pair looked at him, both of them unsure.

“I’ll join you. We’ll go find Soralis together. We owe her a lot, and she’s an ally. It would be wrong to leave her behind when we can help it.” Said Eitan.

“That it would.” Raphael affirmed, looking off into the distance.

*

Liurnia of the Lakes

Yura

Something changed. The hunter wasn’t certain if it was mostly his body, or his mind, but he knew one thing for sure. The moment the change began was when Soralis healed him with her blood. It wasn’t her fault. He would have died, and she saved him in the only way she knew how.

Whatever changes may have ensued were the price he had to pay for an extended lifespan.

He ventured back to the time he held resentment for the huntress as he travelled through the magic-filled land of Liurnia. His eyes lingered on blue-petalled flowers, shining brightly in the night. Light blue fireflies levitating in the air made the place feel alive, and the Academy of Raya Lucaria now far behind him was a sight to behold at any time of the day. If only Soralis were here, if only everything was different, they could enjoy these things together. But things were as they were. They both had a terrible purpose, and both of them knew it. He wished he could go get her. Not to ensure her safety, no. He knew that the scholars and Carians would have no qualms with her, educated as they were. He only wished he could have her with him, to give him strength. For it was Eleonora that called to him, through the accursed blood that now he too bore.

It spoke to him. He felt it surging through his mind, gnawing at him. Prodding at him, urging him to spill more and more blood. He would die before he ever gave the curse what it wanted, but it seemed to know that too.

‘She lives’. It whispered
‘She awaits’. It mumbled
‘She’s near’. It muttered

It drew him on toward the great golden plateau beyond Liurnia. He knew well that Eleonora would be there. He believed the curse for some reason. He hoped it were true. Because other than all these things it also said:

‘You can save her. You can take her burden upon yourself.’

He wished Soralis were with him, if only to tell him whether or not this was the truth, or a lie.

*

Caria Manor

Soralis

Much time had passed. Soralis was left alone with her thoughts, which after such a meal she didn’t mind at all. She wound up falling asleep, and woke up to near complete darkness. The candles in her room were dim, until several minutes after she came to, at which point the room was fully illuminated.

Magic, she guessed. These mages figured out how to make some pretty convenient spells, for which she admired them greatly.
It was an odd situation to say the least. She had been taken away from her allies, yet she had been treated for an ailment that would’ve most likely killed her. Now- she possessed nearly all of her former strength, and she could sense nary a guard to watch over her. Whoever was behind this had to be either very certain of the fact that she wouldn’t turn against them, or completely oblivious to who she was.

Not much time after waking up, Soralis felt the need to stretch her legs. She wouldn’t refuse herself the need, and didn’t have enough patience to just wait around anymore. Calmly, she looked around the room for clothing other than the undergarments she’d been put into. She did have some reservations about being stripped and then clothed again, but she supposed it was done in order to treat her. Sniffing her hair after realising that it felt abnormally soft, pointed her to the fact that she had been bathed, too.

“Not bad…” She admitted to herself. Perhaps she’d have to ask her caretaker how they managed to make it feel so silky smooth, and how they made it smell of lavender.

The only clothing she could find was a long blue robe, but at that point she wouldn’t be picky about anything, not that she ever was.

After putting it on, and getting her feet into a pair of slippers that had been left next to her bed, she ventured out.

Thankfully, her room was right next to a great wooden door leading to a courtyard. She just knew that if it were anywhere else, she would’ve gotten lost. She was not great with Fort Haight, and she would be even worse here.

No one came to stop her as she walked outside. Now she was curious. What could this person possibly want from her? An assassination contract? She knew that she didn’t feel too good about doing something like that again, but with treatment like this, she could be goaded into accepting.

The air here felt different, heavier, yet more refreshing. It made breathing feel more active than passive, but it wasn’t oppressive as one would expect.

Soralis sat down on a bench and watched over the vegetation that growed here.

It appeared as if this courtyard had been left unattended for a while. Perhaps a few years.

Odd coloured plants grew from in between tiles, pushing them upwards and to the side. The trees leaked a bright blue sap, and the flowers had blue or green petals. It was clear even to Soralis who didn’t meddle with it, but magic saturated this place.

Despite not being knowledgeable in its use or effects, she found it to be beautiful. Quite beautiful.

“We’ve got a runaway” Called a gentle voice, not far away from her.

Soralis turned toward the door she just walked out of, and saw a woman wearing a gray wolfskin cloak over a white dress. On her head she wore a large white witch’s hat.

The huntress simply looked up at the sky in response to what she assumed was a joke. She was thankful to these people, but wasn’t in the mood for jokes. She had more questions than anything else.

“You can really see the night sky from here..” She exclaimed, not truly meaning to.

“Indeed.” Answered the woman as she walked closer to her. “Any mage in their right mind would choose to build their towers and lodgings in areas fit for stargazing.”

“How so?” Asked Soralis.

“Well, since the times of old, gazing at the stars has shown us the truth.. Given us power.. Even shown us glimpses of the future. Besides… It's fun.” Explained the witch.

Soralis gave her a slight smile. “So? What did you want with me?”

“Ah, cutting straight to the chase are you? Very well.. I’ll tell you, but brace yourself..” The witch stood in front of her, making her face visible to the huntress.

Light blue skin, blue hair.. blue eyes. Soralis wondered, where was she from? A spectral visage spoke by her, using her words. Only when she uncovered her hands did Soralis realise that what was standing in front of her wasn’t a person.

“I know who you are, Soralis of Nokron. That is why I sought you out. What you are doing in spite of the Lord of Blood or your sisters is beyond me, but I am in need of your assistance.”

Soralis first felt her heart drop. Then, her thrusting swords forming in her hands.

*

Liurnia of the Lakes
Yura

Spot had made her way back to him, but appeared to be quite wary. She let him ride on her back, though not without fear. The hunter briefly wondered whether or not he had changed physically. If the change in his mind reflected on his body, he assumed he’d look rightly a monster.

With Spot’s help, he managed to make it to the outskirts of Liurnia, reaching a ravine he knew led to the great Altus Plateau. The depth of the ravine however, made it dark, a stark contrast to the golden beauty of Altus. Here grew giant land squirts. Usually small, these creatures stick themselves to the ground with their fleshy tubes. Yura never got to know how they ate. He just assumed they worked more like plants than animals.

To him, these creatures were usually harmless. He avoided them, and they didn’t harm him in turn. Here, however, it was impossible to avoid them. If one wanted to cross through the ravine and make it to the plateau, they would have to do their best to.

His first impulse was always to draw blood, but even so, he somehow managed to hold himself back. He managed to steel his mind.

“Easy now, spot. Take it easy for a little while longer.. Then you can run back to your sister.. Do me a favor and help Soralis if you can.. I probably wont be there to help her myself.” Said the hunter.

Spot’s ears twitched here and there as he spoke. The constant heavy pulse of the mare’s heartbeat was unbearable to him. It would be easy to drain her, like a beast feeding. It would grant him release.

These thoughts disgusted Yura, yet granted him a glimpse of what it’s like to be a bloody finger. It was suffering. Constant suffering, unless one lost themselves in the madness that their mind forcefully became, then they only wandered, fiends wearing a person’s skin, only driven by bloodlust. The faces they wore only a mockery to the complexity of the person they used to be, using their memories to taunt, to hunt.

As he was reminded of his last run-in with Eleonora, the hunter scoffed, eliciting a reaction from one of the land squirts on his right.

The giant creature breathed in from a circular tube located on the top half of its oval body, then breathed out of another one, releasing a small green cloud of poisonous mist.

Yura urged Spot on in response. “Let’s go, girl. A bit faster.”

Spot’s hooves made nearly no sound, and they made their way past the rest of the creatures with no problem.

He recalled there being an old mine here. That’d be his way up.

“This is where our paths diverge, girl. We may see each again, someday” Said Yura after getting off the saddle. “You’ve been a great help. Your sister has been, too. Now go find her. Soralis will be quite sad if she doesn’t find her little fiend.”

Spot tilted her head slightly, as if she wondered why she was leaving him here. The mare snorted and flicked her tail as she turned around, whinnying.

“Goodbye, Spot.” Yura mumbled as he set his kasa on his back. Eleonora was close. At the top of this Ravine… And when he reached her, he wanted to be able to see her well.

*

The mine had been abandoned. The hunter decided it was better that way. Miners didn’t take kindly to people even passing through their turf. They wouldn't be a problem to him, but he'd rather not fight anyone.

He looked up at the wooden structures built along the ravine. Railings, ladders, platforms.. It sure looked dangerous. Moving on, he found an entry point. A ladder that was set up next to an old hovel. Surprisingly, it looked as if it was recently lived in.

‘Great.’ He thought to himself as he raised a hand to ascend up the ladder.

His mind hadn’t stopped feeling like a mess. A jumble of thoughts and memories, and an evil hunger for violence and blood. It was a warzone that wouldn’t leave him alone. The worst part of it being that voice. One that sounded like himself.. At times he wondered if this was the same thing Soralis tried to explain to him, but it couldn’t be.. The voice was his in sound only.

“You have not the strength required for this.. I know you, am you..” The voice spoke. Yura felt a weakness in his arms, a disturbing twitch behind his eyes, yet moved on despite it, saying not a word to the voice in his head.

“I know you can hear me.” The voice ground out. “I know… You want to save her. But with this affliction? You will not make it to her. Not. Without. Blood.”

The disturbance behind his eyes seethed. It felt like dozens of worms digging inside his skull. Still, he held on, eyes closed, climbing up the ladder, until he reached a wooden platform leading into the mine.

With a huff, he hoisted himself up on it and stood up. The wood creaked beneath him, so he quickly made for the entrance.

As he opened his eyes he realized that his vision was blurry- an odd shade of yellow ever-present in it. He was sick, he guessed. But he couldn’t stop now. Not when…

“Who?...” He asked himself, his arms hanging on his sides.

Who was he looking for? Why was he moving forward despite this amount of suffering?

“Rest now… You cannot do this. Not alone… Rest until your friends arrive.. They’ll come help you.”

The voice! Yura jolted, as if he suddenly woke up.

“My friends..” He muttered. “Soralis…” He said, a smile forming on his face.

“Eleonora..” He continued softly, finding a reason to move on.

He felt as if switching to another thought would make him forget her forever. That just couldn’t be… But he knew not why. Who was she to him? The only thing he could feel toward her was pain. Tears formed in his eyes, and still he knew not why.

The hunter sighed as he dragged his feet further into the mine. His body’s instincts brought a part of him that was ingrained in it out, forcing him to remember his battle tactics despite his illness.

His hand reached for his blade, unsheathing it slowly. He did this without willing it, simply because the area was well-lit. Someone had to be here, but the place was quiet. The type of quiet that dominates the senses.

Shovels and pickaxes were strewn about. Yura’s foot stepped over an unlit lantern.

“You could feed here. There will be blood. There has been blood.” The voice suggested.

Yura closed his eyes for a second, feeling tired.

“Look.. It is not so easy to stop once you’ve started, now is it?” The voice continued.

As Yura opened his eyes, the scent of blood hit his nostrils. In front of him lay a miner, dying, gasping for air. He had been cut diagonally from shoulder to waistline. The hunter recognized what had happened. What he had done. His sword was dripping, slick with blood, yet he only sighed in disappointment.

‘Soralis..’ He thought to himself. ‘It was I who would need help controlling himself, it would seem…’

“It is so.” The voice affirmed. “Let me take over. I will keep your blade clean. There is nothing for you further on. Allow me to bear this weight for you.”

‘No..’ Thought Yura. ‘I must live… Eleonora.. Her curse must be cleansed. Perhaps now… I can take it away, somehow… You said you knew how… I didn’t forget.’

The voice didn’t respond.

The hunter stepped aside as he heard the rustling of clothing behind him. A sickle was swung in the air right next to him. With minimal effort, he slashed at the assailant, cutting him in half. His arm hung, exhausted. His sword dragged on the floor as he moved on, the body of the bandit he struck bleeding out. He closed his eyes again, and when he went to open them, he couldn’t see anymore.

Oh how they stung. The worms behind them.. They writhed, aching to be let loose. Perhaps he should let them loose. Ah, if only he knew how.

He brought a hand to his face, trailing over his eyes. Slick. Sticky. There was a gash across them. There was blood in his hand. This time he didn’t sigh.

He sensed a person in front of him. Holding a blade. A shortsword. Yura took a stance with his katana, then slashed sideways. A wet slosh let him know that someone’s stomach had been cut open. Blood.. More blood. No relief. He set a hand on his chest as it tightened with need. Need for what?

The worms. They writhed.

*

Caria Manor
Soralis

“You will not manage to harm me with those. Not now at least…” The witch explained as she raised her arms. Two of them at least. “I should have led with the fact that I am not your enemy, I suppose.”

“What do you know about my past?” Asked Soralis, angling a thrusting sword toward the witch’s face. Her heart beat rapidly, threatening to burst.

“Many things. Most of the things there are to know about you… Save for how you came to be.” The witch responded calmly.

“What do you want.” Soralis said flatly, uncertain of what this situation was anymore. “Are you with them?” She finished.

“No.”

“Then what do you want?” The huntress repeated, setting flame to her sword. “You say I can’t harm you, but I’ll burn this doll, and everyone on this manor if I have to.”

“Calm yourself, Soralis. I am not aligned with the Lord of Blood, nor do I wish to be. I am here for my matters alone.. And I am in dire need of your help.”

“Tell me what you know of me, first. Then I’ll decide if I believe you or not.” Despite her threats, Soralis waved her bloodflame away.

“You were taken under Black Knife Tiche’s wing at a young age. You come from the Eternal City.. Nokron.” The witch started. “I must disclose that the Black Knives exist because of my patronage, for I intend to hide nothing from you. I am the witch that orchestrated the night of the Black Knives.. To kill my brother… Godwyn.”

Soralis’s eyes widened. Memories surged into her mind. “The Lunar Princess… Ranni.”

“That would be me.” The doll affirmed. “After the Shattering of the Elden Ring, Queen Marika’s spurned son, Lord Mohg, went off in search of his very own people.. And thus he founded his Dynasty.”

“Mohgwyn…” Soralis finished.
“You were taken under his employ, as were the assassins that survived the fallout…”

“Lady Tiche.. She died…” Soralis muttered, only voicing the thoughts that came to mind. No emotions accompanied them.

The huntress brought her hand to her chest.

“I’ve also known you as the Pale Finger of Lord Mohg.. His most trusted ally, and bodyguard.. But your actions suggest that that time is over for you.. And so I come to you, seeking help.”

Soralis glanced at Ranni like a cornered animal.

“I need you to use your powers.. I am in need of a body.”

“A body?” Asked Soralis.

“A vessel for my spirit to inhabit.. You should know that on that fated night..”

“You took your own life as well.” Soralis finished. “Big Sister Alianne told me..”

“Mm.. The new ringleader.”

“But why would you want a new body? You did it to escape the purview of the outer god, did you not?”

“Indeed. The greater will had plans for me.. But I do not intend to follow the same path Queen Marika followed.”

“And how do I tie into this?” The huntress exclaimed as she stood up, her swords fading away in flames. “I don’t even know how to make a body for you, as you claim I can.”

“I merely speculated… But I know you can regrow limbs.. I know you can heal… No such things have been done before. Not to this extent… With my assistance.. I am certain you could do it.”

“Even if I could, my goals do not align with staying here for- who knows how long.”

“I am aware of that.” Said the princess as she stood up as well. “But only with my assistance will you ever make it to Nokron from here. You do not know how to return, do you?”

Soralis looked at Ranni sheepishly.

“We will take good care of you and yours until your work is concluded. After that, you may do as you please.” The princess said with a smile. “I’d have your answer now.”

The huntress didn’t think for long. “Alright. I’ll help you. I trust that you’ll keep your word.”

“Good, Soralis of Nokron. I thank you.” Ranni said as she took Soralis’s hand and shook it.

*

Liurnia of the Lakes

Melina, Eitan

Melina sat on her steed’s saddle uneasily. She never liked riding, or being outside for such long periods of time.. She couldn’t complain though. She had bigger problems to worry about.

“Isn’t that right, Torrent?”

She said softly, running a hand over the steed’s neck.

Feeling a pair of eyes on her, the maiden turned to look at Eitan, who surely enough was looking directly at her.

“Am I that bad a travelling companion that you’d rather talk to the horse?”

Asked Eitan, a smile on his face as he rode by her.

Melina rolled her eyes before speaking.

“This has to be the tenth time I’m telling you, but Torrent isn’t a horse.”

“What is he then?”

The maiden paused. “I’m not sure..”

Eitan scoffed. “A horse then.” Melina smiled at him as she guided Torrent closer to Eitan.

“So.. what do you make of this?” Asked the warrior, motioning toward Raphael, who rode further ahead.

“We’re on the right path. Not only that, but there is something we’ll need in the academy… Power… Like that of Lord Godrick.. Yours to claim.. To set the world to rights..” Melina said quietly.

“I understand. But what about Raphael? He seems.. Enraged. Rightfully so. I too would be enraged if I knew someone took you.. Hell, I might’ve been worse..”

“I hope you would be” Melina smiled.

“But is this right? He’s been acting before thinking ever since we left Limgrave.. And Yura said that the mages took her, most likely not intending to harm her. They finished off the Finger our allies were hunting, and took her away, wounded. Why not kill her right then and there? I’m worried we’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“We might be, but we still need to recover our ally. As for Raphael’s temperament, we might make use of it. If the mages have nothing to hide, there won’t be a problem, but if they resist him, we should offer our help. If they have Soralis and refuse to give her up, that’s not something that should stand.”

Eitan glanced at the maiden sidelong. “Make use of him?”

Melina raised a brow in question. “Yes, he may intimidate the sorcerers enough for them to give us Soralis back.”

“No, I understand that, but Raphael isn’t someone to ‘make use of’, Melina.” Said Eitan, his horse slightly changing course. The warrior simply pulled the beast’s reins back on track.

The maiden sighed, turning her face toward another direction in annoyance.

“What?” Eitan asked.”I’m only saying that we should treat our friends as what they are, and not as tools, Melina! Why do you think like this?” The warrior ground out, as quietly as he could without Raphael hearing.

“Eitan, we have bigger problems than how I chose to talk about my plan, okay? We have to get Soralis, and we need the great rune that’s in the academy, understand?” Melina cried out at him, eliciting a head shake from torrent.

Eitan saw a wrathful flash of gold in her eyes. He’d never seen her like this, though it didn’t last long. Her face soon softened.

“..I only mean that.. We ought to focus on what’s important.”

Eitan held himself back from speaking his thoughts. Their friends were important, too.

*

Caria Manor, Soralis

Living in the Manor among the Carians was definitely a step up in luxury compared to what Soralis was used to. Apparently she was considered a guest of high renown because of her previous affiliations with the black knives. That worked for her. As long as she got to enjoy a hot meal every day.

“Ah, to have meat day after day…” She sighed loudly, forgetting where she was, only for a moment. Someone from the other side of the table chuckled. Soralis only realised that she had spoken as she had after the fact. Princess Ranni was still chuckling, covering her mouth with a light blue hand. Someone on her left spoke.

“I have to agree, though I would rather eat a small amount of it because it can be quite heavy on the stomach.” Said a black haired sorceress with a bandage across her shoulder.

“I’m pleased that you’re enjoying yourself in my home, Soralis.” Said the princess. The huntress noticed that she didn’t have a piece of food on her plate. A doll could not eat after all.

If she hadn’t been convinced to help her already, this would’ve probably done it for her.
“You should congratulate the cook, Ranni. They must’ve put a lot of time into their skills.” Said Soralis, savoring another bite of perfectly seasoned roasted boar. The meat practically dissolved in her mouth. Some green vegetable she couldn’t name had been sided with it, granting a fitting antithesis with its fresh crunchyness.

The knight on Ranni’s right glared at the huntress momentarily, yet the princess noticed and tapped his hand, calming him. Soralis could not say she understood what it was about. He was a wary fellow. They called him the Moonchilde. The one who finished Arie off.

After glancing away from the knight, the princess responded to Soralis with a smile. “I will do so on your behalf, Soralis, though sadly, I have long lost the capacity to feel, and thus I cannot taste, either.”

“That cannot stand!” Soralis huffed out. “I couldn’t go without that, no.”

“I’m already inclined to believe it is the latter of the two, but humour me, Soralis. Which sensation would you rather live without? Touch?... Or taste?...”

“I must’ve shown too much of myself then!” Soralis said heartily with a smile. “But… It doesn’t sound as easy a choice to me as it would’ve, say.. a week ago.”

“Oh? What could’ve prompted such a change in you, then? It must’ve been quite the occurrence.” The princess asked with a tinge of intrigue in her voice.

“It was! And I didn’t think about it too much at the moment, but.. It’s so embarrassing-.. I don’t think I could say.” Said the huntress as she averted her eyes, feeling her heart skip a bit as her mind brought her back to a few nights ago, when she felt over the knight’s hair.. When they had their moment.

Ranni’s eyes gained an inquisitive glint, yet only for a moment. “Very interesting.. We all have fond memories of such moments.”

“We do?” Asked the sorceress at the left of Soralis. “Moonchilde- what are they talking about?” She whispered.

The knight rolled his eyes and whispered back.

“Oh! Intimacy! So she had an intimate relation- and she thinks that’s comparable to eating food? Yech- No. Both of them are torturous. I don’t understand you people.. Besides- what’s so good about a handshake specifically- or a hug? Something must be different about the way you all perceive the world… I wonder if its measurable.. Moonchilde- have you ever had intimate relations?” Asked the sorceress, after a long and enthusiastic rant.

Soralis felt her blood rushing to her cheeks as the sorceress just announced the nature of what she had experienced. She couldn’t recall another situation in which she felt that way. It was uncomfortable, but it felt.. So real. So.. Unmistakably human.

Moonchilde set his palm on his forehead. “Lisevinde- this is not the time for such questions.”

“How so? Is this an “Appropriate” and “Innappropriate” things situation?” She asked loudly.

“Yes-, yes it is.” The knight sighed.

“I see you’ve been training my apprentice for me, Moonchilde.” Said the princess, covering her mouth. Her smile was apparent through her eyes.

The knight only remained quiet. He appeared to be even more embarrassed than Soralis was.

“You know- if you want to-...” Lisevinde started, before leaning in to whisper the rest of her sentence into Moonchilde’s ear. The knight had no choice but to listen, though, his expression changed abruptly after a few moments.

“No- No, Lisevinde” He exclaimed, as if in fear.

“Hmm.. I don’t see why not. I only wished to see what it was like.. But if you’re not willing, I’ll respect it.”

“Ahem” Ranni interrupted. “That'll be enough of that. Lisevinde, you may ask Moonchilde about that later.. Or rather- I Intend to steal our guest, so you may talk about it right now.” The princess continued as she stood up. Her chair scraping against the wooden floor. “Sorális?”

The huntress felt pressured, cornered like an animal. No, she didn't mind the idea of talking with the princess. She had been nothing if not courteous to her, and Sorális would never forget that. Her problem was the food. She wasn't done eating yet, and she would never ruin a good meal by rushing through this.

She didn't say anything. She only stood up, plate and fork in hand. “Is it okay if we don't go outside? I'd rather my food stay warm for a while longer.”

The princess couldn't help but smile at her. “We can stay here for a while longer. “

*

Yura

Ruined Mines

Yura knew all about him. Once a legendary Drake-Knight. The epitome of what Eleonora’s order ought to be. Now, he was no more than a wyrm, dragging himself around on his belly, and eating any passers by. No better than the covetous dragons, claiming territory for themselves and terrorizing the people. He had become what he sought to destroy. Despite seeing this, the hunter did not understand the irony within his observation.

The beast was near. It must've passed through here mere hours ago. The narrow tunnel Yura was traversing had suddenly become wide and spacious, with space enough for the wyrm to come and go as it pleased.

Surely enough, a few steps away from the smaller tunnel, Yura stepped on something slick. The scent of blood had already reached his nostrils.

“It fed..” He rasped to himself before continuing.

The point of his blade had started to dull from all the dragging the hunter had put it through, but he didn't seem to be able to sheathe it. If he ever did, he might not be able to wield the blade again. His body was out of strength, yet, whenever a living thing found itself close to him, it didn't remain living for long.

His body made its own choices. All he could do was steer it from the backseat, all while everything burned and seared inside him. His eyes were gone, he was certain, but they stung the most.

His nose picked up a scent again. That of sulfur. It was strong.. almost too strong. His body tensed, stopped moving, and focused on any and all stimuli it could get. Within seconds, it knew where the scent was coming from. It was the scent of a wounded dragon. Specifically that of a torn flame sac. He was used to it, having hunted so many dragons with Eleonora….

He knew well that if he wasn't so persistent about looking for her, whatever it was that was fighting him for control would've simply turned tail and left here.. but this… The dead magma wyrm meant she was close.

He had stopped feeling her like a tug through the cursed blood, but now he was on her trail.

I voulIt was as if she was right by him.. hunting after beasts like they used to do back in the day.

Despite his condition, his mind allowed him this grace. He still recalled who she was from the edge of his memory.

“You are holding on fervently. It is almost moving enough for me to stand aside.. almost. Would you still walk toward her with such conviction though, I wonder…”

Yura heard the voice speak again. This time it didn't come from within. With his lack of sight he only sensed it by him, as a humanoid presence first, and then warmth, though not comforting. It was fire, an awful one at that. It's very existence threatening to burn through the confines of his sanity.

“I could take you now, hunter. I have a job to do… But I might just let you do as you will. Not out of kindness, for I already know how greatly you'll suffer, with or without my intervention…”

The voice echoed in Yura’s mind. It came slow and rang sweetly, like honey, yet the evil behind it was plain to see.

“I see him in your memories.. one who could be lord. He will come here.. he will see you die.. he will bring chaos to this world..”

“Who are you?” Yura ground out in a moment of clarity. “What do you.. want?” He heaved.

“I am Shabriri… And I want truth, dear hunter. I will grant the realm mercy, with the help of the lord.. and everyone, you as well, will no longer have to suffer. There will be no sadness or pain, for there will be no life.”

Yura stood. Listening. The presence lingered, it's heat searing Yura's skin as it's words seared his mind.

It left as suddenly as it manifested, and he felt as if a weight was off his shoulders. With it, left the fog obscuring his thoughts. He hoped that Sorális was safe.. then he gravitated toward Eleonora again. She was close. He would see her after so long.

He had dreaded and looked forward to this moment for years. What he would do he didnt know. He couldnt help her, and he knew not if he could kill her.

He felt like a hypocrite for telling Sorális to steel her mind over and over, when she had to endure removing her people from the land, while he ran round in circles.

The hunter huffed as he sheathed his blade. This… Shabriri truly was gone… Yura's body was battered and dying, but it didn't feel significant next to the torture caused by that awful spiritual presence.

*
Yura

Altus Plateau

It was impossible to be unfamiliar with the erdtree. One could even see from far off the coast with ease.

Yura had only been this close to it just once however, while on a dragon hunt.

It was easy to misjudge it's size. The tree was over three times the height of Leyndell’s walls, and the capital boasted walls so tall that catapult shots could only strike their lower parts.

He gazed upon that very tree at that moment, taking in it's beauty. In a land so rich and so beautiful, no one should die in war, or to the blood-crazed fingers of Mohg. It truly was a pity they couldn't live and prosper here together.

As he looked over the plateau, Yura regretted sending Spot away. The tug he felt from Eleonora came from quite a ways away. Outside the capital’s walls,but not far from them. He could see it, up on a hill. A church of Marika. He wondered if the Drake-Knight had kept to her old habit of praying when she was overwhelmed.

*

Raphael

Academy of Raya Lucaria

He had finally reached the gate. Eitan and Melina would stay back and watch so as to not clue the enemy in to their numbers should things go awry.

It was lightly fortified. It wouldn’t be a problem for a company like Ser Wyll’s to cut through in an instant. No more than ten spearmen outside the gate, and a few footsoldiers manning a ballista further up the stairs, behind a barricade.

The anxious group of soldiers led by a knight looked on as Raphael rode toward them. They kept their spears raised toward him, bracing for a charge. The knight stepped off his horse instead, choosing to speak to them first, all while glaring at their leader.

“I have questions you will answer.” Said Raphael, setting his hand on his sword’s hilt. The bark-like armor he had created for himself had stayed on this time.

The leader of this ill-trained company, one that would quiver at the presence of merely one rider, unsheathed his sword and pointed it toward the knight, escalating the situation all by himself. “What ye want here? Ye be no Carian, yet ye show up unannounced and armed. State yer business lest we cut you into pieces!”

Raphael sighed, yet gave no ground these men could take. After hearing the… Fourth word that came out of their leader’s mouth, he realized that they were, plainly put, stupid.

“You will tell me who is in charge of this Academy, and where they are. I’m looking for a mage-knight.”

The knight continued, ignoring the leader’s threats.

“We won’t be speaking of our own business to an outsider, now will we? I’ve had enough of ye, off with him!” The leader cried out, and the company’s spears fell upon the knight in unison, piercing his armor, searching for flesh and bone and organs, but finding nothing other than root and bark and will, strong as steel.

Raphael closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I have to find her.. I have waited more than enough… I say enough. She mustn’t suffer anymore. She mustn’t die.” From every spear’s nick in his plate sprouted a mass of sharp golden quills, each finding their mark in one of the soldiers who struck him.

One got pierced through the eye and skull, another through the chest. Some were merely maimed, losing an arm, or a leg. With these wounds, none would survive, and that was certain.

A moment passed, two, and there was screaming. The surviving soldiers wailed. One was reaching for his severed leg as he was passing out, another was calling to their leader for help, all while the man only stared at Raphael, having dropped his sword.

“Tell me who is in charge. Tell me if you saw a young woman with black hair and-”

“Yes! A young woman with black hair- she came here with the mage-knight yesterday! They met with the arch-mage and-”

“Where is this arch mage, tell me.” Raphael growled as he grabbed the knight by the neck.

The man strained, yet spoke. “I-... Well, the arch-mage…”

“NOW!” Raphael cried out, tightening his grip. The man choked.

“He’s gone… No one has seen him since- kh-... His chambers are locked. He hasn’t been on his rounds today either-...” Said the knight, and with that, he brought a dagger to Raphael’s neck.

The armor protected him by sending out a root and twisting around the weapon, then flicking it away. Raphael gritted his teeth and tightened his grip further, slamming the knight into the stone-tiled floor.

“Was that necessary?...” Asked Eitan as he approached with Melina.

“He tried to kill me.” Raphael responded in a low voice. “They all did.”

“Hm..” Melina started as she walked forward. “Any news of Soralis? Is she here?”

“According to the leader of this company, they have her. The arch-mage must’ve taken her. He hasn’t left his chamber since yesterday.” Raphael explained before going up the stairs.
“There’s a ballista up ahead. I’m assuming you’re the reason why I haven’t been shot by it yet?”

Eitan nodded as he set his bow on his back. “I shot two of them. The rest fled into the academy.”

“They know we’re here, then. Do not hold back.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” Said Eitan, balling his fingers up into a fist, then looking at Melina, who set her hand over his.

*

Soralis

Princess Ranni’s Stargazing Tower

Soralis had found a new favorite thing. One she liked even more than food, and it wasn’t even a debate.

“You can clearly see every star with this… And the moon.. Oh its so beautiful..” She said, smiling, as she looked on and on through the ceiling of the magical tower. “How does it know what I want to see?”

“It doesn’t. You’re the one who’s directing it, Soralis. This is astounding- You would be an excellent mage if you wanted to be.” Said the princess from atop a pile of old books.

“I don’t need to be a mage- except if I can see more stars that way.” Soralis replied greedily, the moonlight glistening on her deep crimson optics.

“You could-... Oh dear.” The princess said as she chuckled. “I’ve never seen such a deep interest in the night sky. What do you like about it- since I gather it isn’t out of love for Astrology.”

“It’s beautiful- Isn’t that reason enough to like it?” The huntress replied, turning to look at the princess.

“Sure is.” Ranni said calmly. “Things that often seem complicated can be quite simple.” She said with a smile. “I also loved watching the night sky once… Have you ever seen a falling star, Soralis?”

“No- Is that possible?” The huntress asked, eagerly awaiting her response.

“They’re not really stars, but they burn big and bright, though only for a moment.”

“Where should I look to find one?” Said Soralis, turning back to the ceiling of the tower, hoping to see a falling star in that instant.

“It is a common phenomena, but when or where it happens isn’t certain. I’ve seen over a dozen in my time… But I trust that you’ll see one, someday. Some even wish upon them as they fall, believing that they hold power.. Who knows.”

“I can’t wait to see one, then.” The huntress concluded as she stepped away from the stargazing point. “I believe it is time I assist you now.” She continued. “I’m glad to have had your hospitality, but I must return to my friend again. I’ve no clue where he is.. I had left some of my blood with him, so I could get a vague sense, but now its like he’s.. gone..”

Her eyes held a sense of longing. It was clear that the princess noticed from her sigh.

“I don’t wish to keep you here against your wishes, Soralis… Nor do I want your help if you won’t give it yourself. If you think it beyond your abilities, or if you simply wish to leave, please do. It is your choice… And if I must be honest, I only linger for my people.. not for myself. I will soon fade, and this will just be a regular doll… That said, I don’t even know if I deserve this. A new life.. After what I’ve done.”

Soralis stilled for a moment. Looking into the doll’s eyes she saw more than just a crafted visage. She saw a person. A real, feeling person. Almost a reflection of herself.

“Why did you say you once loved the night sky? Do you no longer love it?” She asked her after feeling a genuine need to do so.

“I… Don’t think I can feel like others do anymore, Soralis.” The princess admitted, intertwining her fingers. “Ever since what I did to Godwyn.. Even if it was for the sake of the Lands Between… Ever since I discarded my body to be… This.. I’ve been different.. I’ve been so cynical. So.. Empty.”

“You don’t sound empty to me.” Soralis responded as she moved closer, setting a hand on the princess’s. “You feel. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t speak of your actions with disdain. You wouldn’t condemn yourself so.”

“I want you to look at the stars and be happy.” The huntress continued. “Everyone deserves that.. And in this Fractured world.. Things are odd… It is true, what you did.. the plot you orchestrated… It had a toll.. No one deserves to die, and no one should be used as a stepping tool for another’s ambitions.. But your fading will not fix what you did. Nothing ever will, but you can still do good.. So let me help you first. I’ll do what I can.”

The princess didn’t respond. She only looked up at the stars through the hole in the ceiling. “Should I really forgive myself?” She asked. “Can I?..”

“You should.. You can’t live if you don’t. But that won’t make your actions right..”
As she spoke, Soralis noticed a portrait behind Ranni. That of a young sorceress wearing a blue robe. Her hair was red. That of the champion. Her eyes a beautiful amber.

“Is that you?” She asked as she motioned toward it with her head.

Ranni turned to glance at the painting for a moment. “Yes..” She said in a low voice.

“Then I’ll get started, whether you think you deserve it or not.”

*

Yura

Altus Plateau
The hunter’s heart raced. He was paces away from the entrance of the ruined church. He had stopped to eat some rowa berries to replenish some of his strength, but this was not a physical challenge.

There she was, kneeling in front of Marika’s statue in silent prayer. She still wore her Drake-Knight attire despite her current allegiances. Yura could never forget the look of it. That blood red dragon-wing cape, and that dragonbone halfhelm.

“Is it really you?” She started, turning slightly to look over her shoulder.

Upon hearing her voice, Yura nearly fell to his knees. A sudden, unstoppable, overwhelming warmth overcame him. “Eleonora?...” The hunter rasped, hardly believing his senses. He couldn’t see her, nor wouldn’t he, for he still lacked his eyes, but her movements.. The sound of her cape.. They were unmistakable.

“Yura-.. I had hoped this wasn’t you.. Why did you come here?... Who was it that gave you our blood?”

The drake-knight approached him rapidly, placing her hands on his chest. “What happened to you?.. You’re sick… And your eyes-...”

Yura had hoped that he’d cut her down as soon as he found her. How foolish of him. How can one kill someone they still love so intensely?

“Soralis.. I suspect her healing.. To be the reason for the first change in me… But this isn’t the sickness that’s killing me.. I haven’t a clue as to what that is..” The hunter explained in a gruff voice.

“We can fix it, Yura.. Come with me to the Lord’s palace. He will heal you. He is venerable and kind.”

“No.” Yura said suddenly, pulling back. “You know he isn’t.”

“You may call his methods misguided, and you won’t be wrong… But I know he’ll help you.. Especially now that you’re of his blood.”

Yura clenched his teeth. The more she tried to reason with him, the less hope he had for her. The only reason this didn’t go like their last meeting did was because of his freshly cursed blood.. He could catch it. The scent of her victims. He knew she didn’t only kill dragons… He knew because the thirst that now existed within him as well encompassed everything. He only had two choices… Only one was available to him, since he knew he couldn’t kill her.

For a single moment, he gained an understanding of this condition of theirs. The blood. The ‘curse’ within it. “Come here…” He said slowly. “Let me see that it is you, my love.”

Eleonora wasted no time in embracing him. She was warm.. Alive. And she should continue to be so, only without the curse that burdened her.

“It has been difficult without you.. Yura.. But everything will be okay now.” Said the finger as she held him close.

He felt her heart beat. He felt his own. He wished that this moment could last forever, but he knew well that it could not.

“The Lord will be pleased with your work.” She continued. “...Your blade.. Countless have fallen to it in the past days..”

Despite his state of mind during these days she mentioned, Yura knew well that he had in fact killed many people. He did not know how many, nor did he remember much else other than pain and sudden involuntary movements, but he’d be a fool to deny this.

“Don’t say that to me… Have you forgotten who I am?... What I stand for?... I would never have done this if not for the curse… YOU… would never have done what you’ve done if not for the curse… How many have you killed by now, Eleonora? After all these years?... Hundreds? Thousands?...”

“Calm down, Yura… I understand that it is difficult but there is much that you do not see.. There is a reason behind the bloodshed. We must bring to fruition the will of a god.” Eleonora explained as she brought her hands to the back of his head.

“No… This is not how it is… I’ve killed mindlessly… You cannot pretend that there is a reason behind your murders… If there is, you’re merely a pawn.. That’s all you’ve been..”

The hunter retorted, holding back his tears, yet still, only standing there, accepting her embrace.

“I’ll take you to the palace, my love… You will see the truth..”

His eyelids felt heavy as she spoke into his ear. ‘Oh.. Its no use’
He thought to himself. He could not break free. He had neither the will nor the strength to do so.

“Ahh… Good hunter… I’ll assist you, but only because I have need of this vessel. The blood you were gifted with holds the answer… You can free your lover of all of her curses, if only you take them upon yourself… Your ally’s blood will speak to you. It is quite potent, for the truth behind who she truly is, isn’t that simple. The girl is akin to a demigod… But what use is it if you know?...”

Yura heard Shabriri’s words in his head again, though accompanied by clarity instead of pain this time.

Blood pooled beneath their feet, and they began to be lowered in it. He had to act fast.. He had to do something. He wished Soralis was here… He wished it with all of his heart.. And then he felt it. The cursed blood she’d given him. Even now it coursed through him, wholly different from the ailment it brought with it.

As if in a dream, he saw her. His friend, though wearing silver armor and a blood red cape. Her hair.. It was of silver… Odd, he thought to himself.

She didn’t speak. Only nodded quietly. He felt as if she truly was beside him.

“What?...” Eleonora said suddenly as she jumped away, manifesting her blood-red twinblade. “Yura- how?...”

The hunter stayed calm. He had nothing else to say to her- also, he didn’t know what he was doing either.

His hand was angled toward her, arm outstretched, and he was somehow commanding her cursed blood toward him.

“Hold…” He heard Soralis speak into his head, and that he did as Eleonora’s blood joined him from under his fingernails.

It felt like red-hot iron was coursing through his veins, but that didn’t dissuade him.

“Ghh-..” The man groaned as Eleonora tried to break free- tried to approach him.

“Stop!... My connection to the lord!... My power-..” She said desperately as she fell to her knees.

He had taken all of it, to the very last drop. The Violet Bloody Finger was no more. Eleonora crumbled on the ground unconscious, her twinblade evaporating into nothingness.

“Now you will cease, hunter… No one can survive absorbing such a curse.” Said Soralis. She appeared in his head again. Watching over him as he sat down and rested his head against a pillar.

“I’d bet… you would..” He rasped

“I would indeed…” She said, smiling, yet not for long. Her eyes soon softened, then she frowned.

“Don’t be sad… Soralis… Should I call you that?... Is it you, or are you that other self she spoke of?...Ahh.. You’re not unlike her… Kind soul… I do hope… You rejoin her some day… You’d do this for me… When I’ve been hunting your kind for years.. Thank you…”

Yura finished with a sigh that lasted longer than it should. He didn’t breathe in again.

The silver-haired Soralis only knelt by him, tears streaming down her face.

*

Soralis

Caria Manor

Soralis could not recall a time in her life during which she studied so much. She was certain she had memorized Ranni’s face structure from portraits. As for her body- they agreed that she would do what she could. Ranni claimed she had no portraits of that, and Soralis felt relief when she heard that.

She had already created many left and right arms. These were things she was used to healing, as for some reason she happened to lose them often. Legs were a bit more difficult due to their volume, but the head and torso were the worst. So many organs to visualize and take care of. It wasn’t easy cleaning up after her failed attempts, so the huntress pitied the servant that had to come in every hour to haul some useless body parts away.

All things considered, she estimated that she’d have a fully functioning body soon enough, but making it sure as hell didn’t feel good. It was draining, and painful, and it made her work up a huge appetite. Thankfully the princess took care of that too, and made sure to deliver the huntress hourly meals. She would also sit down with her while she ate to talk about her progress, or other things. It was usually about other things, which Soralis really enjoyed.

For now, she was stuck working on a face. The facial features were quite challenging to get around, but the most challenging aspect by far was recreating the brain. This made her realize that if she ever lost her head, she’d just die. But then again, who didn’t?

As she sculpted over the lips, someone knocked on the door. “Come in.” Said the huntress, not bothering to take her eyes away from her work. “It’s all coming along nicely…” She explained, huffing. “Just a few more things to get down.”

“That’s good.” Said the princess.

A servant brought a tray of food into the room, set it on a table in a cozy corner by the fireplace and promptly left. Ranni sat down by it and waited for Soralis. The huntress wasted no time in getting to her and getting started with eating. This time it was venison, which she had decided she loved.

“Soralis- are you okay?” The princess asked suddenly, to which Soralis only wondered.

“What do you mean?” She asked before cutting up another piece of meat.

“You just look like.. You’ve been crying” Ranni explained

“No, I haven’t been-” Soralis paused as she wiped the tears away from her cheek. “Oh-... That’s odd… I don’t understand why this-...”

“Is this too tough on you?” Ranni asked, angling herself forward expectantly. “I don’t want you to-”

“What? No. I really have no idea why my body would be reacting this way..” Soralis explained, trying to calm the princess down. For some reason she thought of Yura. And then she felt a sudden melancholy. “I suppose… I do worry about my friend.. But-... Not to this extent..”

The princess brought a finger to her lips for a moment, in thought. “You can leave now if you want to. I still have time. You can come back in a few days to finish up.”

Soralis considered the offer, but shook her head. “No.. I’m almost finished. Thank you, though..”

“I should thank you. You’ve proven to be much more than an ally. You’ve treated me like a friend.”

*

Raphael, Eitan, Melina

Academy of Raya Lucaria

Two foot-soldiers dead, arrows in their eyes, just as Eitan described. “Good work.” Raphael said to him quietly. To which the warrior simply nodded.

“When we get past the seal, me and Eitan will head to the Grand Library. I’ve met the Lunar Queen before. Perhaps she can tell us where Soralis is. She should know.”

“That’s good.” Said Raphael. “I’ll look for her elsewhere, then.”

Eitan glanced at the maiden sidelong, saying nothing. “Is there something else you’ve got to say to me?”

Raphael asked suddenly.

“No.” Eitan said abruptly as another group of soldiers charged toward them with spears and swords. From further up the staircase, a mage shot glintstone magic at them.

The warrior readied himself, the bowspring already taut. The mage was down before he realized he was being aimed at.

Raphael made quick work of the soldiers, sprouting golden claws out of his fingers.

Melina moved on ahead, kneeling by the mage’s corpse.

A great magical seal was placed in front of the gate, the emblem of the Carian Family depicted on it.

“He should be carrying something to unseal the gate with.” Melina explained.

“How do you know all this?” Asked Raphael, tilting his head.

“I’ve just-.. Been around a while, I suppose.” Said Melina as she looked through the mage’s robes. “Here it is..” She said calmly, showing the others a key crusted over by glintstone crystals.

“Now what? Does it open like a door?” Eitan asked, placing a hand on the seal only to find out that it functioned much like a solid wall.

“No. It’s my first time actually going through one of those, but someone explained how they work to me a long time ago.”

With that, Melina walked toward the seal as well. “After me.”

And she stepped right through it, though she didn’t go through the gate. She just disappeared.

“What-” Eitan gasped.

Raphael moved closer and poked at the seal with his finger. It went through, disappearing as well. “Interesting…” He mumbled.

Before either of them could say anything else, they were pulled to the other side by the maiden.

Raphael screamed, only to realize that he was literally standing on his own two feet. “Oh. Warn us next time.” He continued, squinting at the maiden.

“Why? What’s so bad about it?” Melina teased, smiling.

“I don’t quite like these magical-... Transportation systems.” Said Raphael as he walked forward. They had reached it.

“So this is it… We’re here… And-” Eitan paused. “The seal brought us all the way up here?” He exclaimed as he walked to the side of the courtyard they were in, looking down to realize that they were on the top of a mountain.

“It seems that way.” Melina concurred, staying by his side.

“Come on. We’re short on time.” Raphael urged them, walking into the academy eagerly.

Chapter Text

Raphael, Eitan, Melina

Academy of Raya Lucaria

If magic in Liurnia was abundant, this place was practically drenched in it. One could see traces of it in the air, or on objects, like freshly woven silk swaying in the wind. It took on various colours. Green, blue, purple, orange… It was breathtaking.
The group didn’t have much time to admire it however, as the resident mages attacked them on sight, with magic- or books. Whatever was at hand. None of the mages appeared skilled, which was a good thing. They would find Soralis faster this way.

“This place is like a never ending chain of libraries- have we even reached the Grand Library yet? Are we close?” Raphael complained as they walked through another corridor, leading to a shaded courtyard.

“No.. Had we reached it, we may have already found our friend.. I don’t know much of the Academy’s layout. I only know that the Queen should be here.”

“Great… Now what?” The knight said as he looked around. The dark courtyard welcomed them.

Mud beneath their feet, graves strewn all around, and the doors closing behind them. Quiet wails and groans sounded as soon as any hope of escaping was lost.

“I don’t like this.” Said Eitan as he brought his sword forward. “We keep Melina in the middle. You and I back to back Raphael. We must-”

“Yes, circle around her, yes.” The knight finished as he had already assumed the necessary position.

“I was going to say that Melina can create a barrier if necessary.” Eitan explained. “Melina, are you on it?”

The maiden hummed her agreement as she brought forth specks of golden magic on her fingertips.

It didn’t take long for the threat to present itself. Deceased humans crawling out of the ground, or leaping out from behind gravestones. They weren’t just cursed corpses. Magic coursed through them, as could be made evident by their blue-glowing eyes, or points on their bodies from which it overflowed.

“These have to be the result of experimentation…” Melina noted. “Cruel and inhumane experimentation at that..”

One of the dead approached, its long and lanky arms splaying outward in a grasping motion. Eitan dispatched it in two flowing slashes, first slashing its arms clean off, and then its head. But one of them was nothing. From the sound of it, there was no end to them.

Raphael had also killed a few of them with his claws, but a dozen were in front of him, and a dozen more rose to replace those killed.

“Too much of a gap in our formation. We can’t hold them off.” Eitan warned, and Melina put up her barrier of gold. It violently placed itself over the scurrying dead, severing limbs or bisecting all around. They weren’t saved however. This only gave them time to think.

“How long can this hold?” Asked Eitan, who looked over the surge of dead with worried eyes.

“Not as long as I’d like it too, but long enough.” Said Melina, who looked ahead. The courtyard was filled with a thick mist, but with squinted eyes the maiden could make out a bridge to.. somewhere. “There’s a bridge. It’s our best bet. When we’re on the other side, we cut it down.”

“Good plan.” Eitan cried out as he shot an arrow through a corpse’s eye. “Bring the barrier down on them, and we’ll move that way. You’ll have to stay behind us this time. Make sure not too far back.”

“I will. I would have used the spirit realm- but something about the magic here is obscuring my connection to it. I can’t call Torrent either.”

“Enough talk. Sounds like a good plan. Let’s go.” Raphael urged them, drawing his greatsword. “Eitan, when this barrier falls, you stand by her. I can cut a path.”

“Don’t joke around now- You shouldn’t be doing this alone.” The warrior warned, setting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I’m not alone. And.. I can do this. Have faith, brother.” Raphael responded, not turning around to face him. Only keeping his eyes forward, seemingly imagining the path.

Eitan stepped back, looking at Melina, who only shrugged.

No further words were needed. The maiden brought the barrier down in an explosion that destroyed the first line of corpses completely. As instructed, Eitan stood by her, focusing on the corpses at their back, swinging again and again.

“Raphael?” He cried out as the corpses neared, yet there came no answer, only a blinding light at the tip of the knight’s sword as he raised it aloft that seemed to make the corpses flinch.

The knight sprouted a stunning pair of golden wings on his back. Just a flap from them intended to get him to take off, set the corpses off balance. Another mighty flap sent him forward, and he glided through wave upon wave of the dead, keeping his blade pointed toward them, and cutting them down with divine fervor.

The pair wasted no time in following him- running after him. His charge ended right by the bridge, leaving pieces of the dead all over the courtyard.

“Raphael! That was incredible!” Eitan cried out as they stepped foot onto the bridge.

“Don’t celebrate too early, brother. I can’t do that again, and it doesn’t seem like we’re in the clear just yet.”

Two mages appeared on the other side of the bridge, staffs at the ready, already shooting spells at them.

“Careful!” Melina cried out as a shard of glintstone nearly hit Eitan in the head. The maiden cast a protective barrier over him, and as soon as the pebble hit it, a golden blast was sent flying toward the mage that shot it at him. It was all the man could do to shriek and be cut short by the immense power that destroyed him completely.

The other mage wisely thought to retreat. “The wolf! Call the wolf of the champion!” He cried out to someone watching from a balcony above.

“Any idea what that wolf is?” Eitan asked.

Raphael shook his head.

“My first time hearing of a wolf… The champion should mean… Lord Radagon, however…” She explained, a feeling of dread creeping over her back.

*

Caria Manor

Soralis

A living, breathing body.Technically speaking at least. Soralis knew not whether or not this body would gain a will of its own if allowed. Perhaps it would, or maybe it was empty, but she would never know. This endeavor didn’t suddenly make her interested in these things, and this was a body for the princess anyway.

The huntress collapsed into a chair as the last of the finishing touches was done. Red hair. She still didn’t know what it was exactly that made the body’s hair red, but seeing as she was only used to the feeling of making black hair like her own, it was quite a challenge. And it wasn’t like the hair that grew on one’s arms was in any way comparable to making actual hair.

“Ahh…” Soralis sighed in relief. She hoped she’d never have to work this much in the rest of her life, and she probably wouldn’t. She was so relieved in fact, that she completely forgot to tell the princess that her body was ready.

*

“It definitely looks like me…” Ranni mumbled as she looked over the body.

“Well, it’s going to be you soon enough.” Said Soralis, who was working on a plate of roasted greens. “Oh- can I meet the cook before I leave? I really do wish to thank them.. This? This is great, even though its not meat!”

The princess chuckled. “Sure. I am certain she’ll be happy to talk to you.. But- Excuse me, Soralis.. Are you certain that this body will not age?”

“As certain as can be. It should function much like my own body does- Without the blood. That came from that sorceress that was with us for dinner a few nights ago. She had been collecting and preserving it for some reason… I worried that after a while the body would produce blood like my own, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. It simply copied the blood of the sorceress, so that’s a good sign.” Soralis explained, pausing for a moment. Then, with a piece of carrot on her fork, she continued. “All that remains is for you to enter it… And when it comes to that, It’s all up to you. I don’t understand how that works.”

“Moving between bodies is easy for me, in this state.. But once I enter this living vessel, I will remain within it until it dies.. But since it was created out of the purview of the two fingers… I reckon I’ll be safe.” Said Ranni, having started off explaining her situation to Soralis, and then trailing off on her own.

“Alright-.. But make sure to do this quickly, because I don’t know if it’ll get up and leave.” Said the huntress, finishing her plate and picking the tray up.

“It could do that?” Asked Ranni

“Well, I don’t know, so if you don’t want to take your chances..” She said as she left the room, going off to find the cook.

*

Moonchilde

Caria Manor

Moonchilde walked down the hall with Lise. They were going to the courtyard for magic practice. He didn’t know why on earth he agreed to this, especially after what he told her the other day. With how Lise was, it was quite obvious that she was thinking about it, too.

She held her hands behind her back, smiled often, and never stopped looking at him. He even thought that she put even more effort in how she dressed. The jewelry she wore by the tip of her braid was different, and so was her attire. She wore a different cape-.. He thought.

They were going down a staircase. The sorceress smiled as he glanced at her.

“Oh- can you please not do… that?” Said Moonchilde, moving to the side

“Can I please not do what?” Asked Lisevinde, tilting her head, acting, but quite not obviously being oblivious.

“You know well what I’m talking about. After your suggestion… The way you look at me… You’ve even-...” He paused, squinting at her. “There’s a floral scent..”

“Well, I asked Lady Ranni how to romance a partner, and these were her suggestions.. Is it working?” She asked, moving closer again.

“If it’s working? Yes- I mean-”

“You said it yourself, you wouldn’t be against the idea… But?... You never explained that ‘but’, Moonchilde.” The sorceress leaned in as the knight pressed against the railing. Had she suddenly understood flirting? “I can’t make a conclusion as to your disposition if you won’t finish the sentence for me. So? What was it?”

No… It was just a coincidence, the knight thought to himself. “Well, you've all said I’m meant to be wed to the princess one day…. The stars foretold it, didn’t they? And when I first came here, I felt so compelled to.. be this person.. It was as if the stars commanded me… I changed, and I forgot my home.. I even forgot my former lover.. I still don’t care about what I had, and I don’t know if it is right.” He lowered his gaze from her momentarily. “What I meant to say is that I feel like I’m being compelled to do this… To be with the princess.. Not to say I don’t enjoy her company, but I never chose this.”

“Mm..” Somehow, the sorceress appeared to understand that she shouldn’t continue her advances, for a while at least. “Perhaps, we should put off training for now. We could just talk.”

“That sounds good.” Moonchilde concurred.

*

The sorceress had made changes to her room. It was slightly more tidy than the last time the knight was here. He wondered if that was part of his ‘courting’, too.

“I made you some tea.” She said as she gave him a warm cup of coloured water with a scent of camomile.

Moonchilde put it under his nose and let the steam rise up against it. He then took in a deep breath, then exhaled. “Thank you, Lise..”

She sat next to him on his bed. She had done away with the armor pieces she usually wore. She was just in her robe, which was a rare sight.

“So it’s because you feel trapped that you won’t do it, otherwise you would?” She asked quietly, sitting sideways with her hands on her thighs.

Moonchilde smiled to himself at that. She made it about herself again, but he couldn’t blame her. He couldn’t have expected more, knowing what she was like.

“That’s right.” He nodded

“Then… I think you should do it.”

Moonchilde raised a brow. Wasn’t she just speaking out of self interest?

“My mother said… That you should be as you want to be, otherwise the world will do what it will with you.”

“Don’t you hate your mother, Lise?” He asked with a smile

“That’s beside the point” Lise corrected. “The princess herself told me how I should try to approach you… Wouldn’t she have bid me not to if she was against it?”

“Well I suppose so…”

“But its not just that… She herself escaped fate. It is the thing she is known for. We don’t know if what the stars say has to be that way anymore. Any prophecy containing her is now… uncertain.”

The knight stilled, looking away from her. It still didn’t sit right with him. He had been roped into something against his will, but then again, the princess had told him that he didn’t have to do any of this… He stayed, yet he didn’t feel like himself.

“You must know that I do not care about- what happens between us on that front. It just seems like the most appropriate course of action for you is to do what pleases you. Lady Ranni will accept it, no matter what it is. So, do it, don’t do it, stay, leave. You can choose your future, as every single person should.” Lisevinde said, as she looked off to the other side of the room, her eyes not fixed anywhere in particular.

“I want to help her.” Moonchilde said suddenly. “I really do… And.. There is a certain depth to her thoughts someone could… Take interest in.”

“Then do so.” The sorceress said calmly before lifting his hand to his head, effectively making him sip from his tea. “You hadn’t tried it yet.. It’s better when its still hot.”

The knight chuckled, savoring the taste before answering. “Thank you. Thank you for making me tea… And thank you for being here.”

“No need to thank me. It was nothing. Neither the tea nor existing required a tremendous amount of physical effort.” Lise replied, turning to look at him with a raised brow as if he had suggested some logical fallacy

Moonchilde scoffed and shook his head. “Thank you nonetheless. I like the fact that you did what you did.” He said as he set a hand on hers.

She shot a questioning glance at him. “Are you… Initiating… Something?” She asked with no hesitation.

“I-” The knight was caught unawares. “This is.. Simply.. meant to show affection.” He explained. She may have been his teacher when it came to magic, but he could teach her about virtually anything relating to how people interacted.
“I see.” Lisevinde said flatly. “I don’t like it.” She finished, at which point the knight promptly took his hand away, taking another sip of his tea instead, and letting the vapors warm his chin.

“I meant to say, most of the time, I don’t like it.” She explained. “You can do it again if you want to- or.. can I do it?”

“Sure.” He allowed, extending a hand toward her with his palm facing upwards as he set his cup on her desk.

The sorceress slowly, gently brought her hand on his, tracing her fingers over his palm before letting her own rest on it. She then moved her hand again, placing her fingers on the upper side of Moonchilde’s hand and caressing his palm with her thumb.

The knight wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t choose to look at her face in that moment, but she looked completely awestruck, as if it was her first time seeing a human hand.

“Have you never done this before?..” He asked, genuinely curious about whether or not she was raised by people.

“No… I never really wanted to.” She responded as she continued doing as she did.

Her fingers were unexpectedly gentle, and soft as silk. Moonchilde couldn’t deny to himself that he was fond of the feeling, or of the woman in front of him. For some unknown reason, he felt compelled to say it in that moment, even though he would never do it under different circumstances. “I would do what you asked, Lise.. Not just because you asked but because I want to.”

“You do?...” Lisevinde asked in disbelief. She looked into his eyes searching for confirmation.

He nodded and smiled at her as he brought a hand to her cheek, which she was overly aware of, glancing at it.

“Why are you doing that?” She asked as she started to lean away from it.

Moonchilde wasn’t discouraged by this, but perhaps he should have been. “Look at this as if I’m teaching you through feelings. Focus on the sensations… There is no reason other than affection and pleasure.”

The sorceress hummed to herself, looking troubled, turning toward him she undid her robe.

The knight’s heart raced.

*

Eitan, Raphael, Melina

Debate Parlor, Academy of Raya Lucaria
“Looks like a large classroom.” Eitan noted as they walked into a large room, bigger in length than width. Seats were layered on the left and right sides of it, and there appeared to be a podium further ahead, where the teacher, or speaker would presumably stand.

Despite the clamor they heard moments earlier, the place was eerily quiet. No mages, no students, and hopefully none of the dead.

They all walked to the other side of the room, finding a door that led to a large courtyard.

“There-” Melina said as she pointed to a building cut off from the rest of the academy. “That’s the Library. The Queen should be there, along with answers.”

“Good. Then get a move on.” Raphael said as he took charge, moving forward only to bump into an unseen wall. “Gh- what?”

“We’ve been sealed-” Melina cried out, readying her magic at her fingertips, eyes scanning for enemies.

“Do you guys hear that?” Asked Eitan, drawing his sword.

No one responded as a low growl echoed through the classroom. The growl grew in intensity and volume until something peeked out from behind the upper row of seats. Jaws, piercing ruby eyes burning like fire, and a mane as red as blood.

The beast growled as it prowled them, jumping out from behind the seats and revealing itself to be several times bigger than each of the. It bared its teeth at them and barked as it neared, at which point Raphael was already standing in front of the others, sword drawn.

“The Wolf they spoke of! It was a trap.” Said Raphael, slashing his sword at it, aiming to make some distance between it and the others. Eitan shot an arrow at it. Melina shot dazzling golden magic, at which the wolf only moved to the side with unfathomable speed. Before they knew it, it had jumped in the air and shot a giant burst of glintstone magic straight at the knight, eliciting a groan of pain from him as it burrowed into his armor, making him slide backward, keeping his footing. “This thing can cast magic?” He cried out.

“Oh, I hate this.” He complained, regaining his composure and throwing his sword away.

“What are you doing?” Eitan yelled at him.

“No use trying to hit it with my blade. I’ll have to catch it.”

“Are you insane? It’s five times bigger than you! It’ll rip you to pieces!” The warrior warned again, but Raphael only ran after the wolf that had landed on the other side of the classroom.

“Well- We’ve got to support him.” Melina suggested, casting a barrier around the knight.

The wolf immediately took notice, reacting like a trained warrior and jumping over Raphael, pushing him against the wall with its hind legs as it barrelled on toward the pair with unparalleled ferocity.

Eitan forced Melina behind him as he attacked the beast with an upward slash, only for it to be… countered?

Within a fraction of the second, the red wolf had manifested a spectral blade for itself, holding it between its jaws. It slashed toward Eitan immediately after countering, but the warrior had recovered, and was able to block the blow. The problem was that it was so strong that it sent him falling backwards, right into Melina, and straight to the wall. Both of them were winded, and the wolf took advantage of this opportunity by attacking again, sending its sword away and choosing to bite them with its jaws.

Melina barely saved them from death by raising a barrier, wincing at the first blow.
“What on earth is this? How can this beast do all these things?” Eitan complained as he angled himself between him and the wolf again, hoping it wouldn’t try to push him up against her as it just did.

“It won’t hold. I barely had enough time to breathe before the first one” Said Melina, her barrier forming more and more cracks with each blow it took.

Right before the beast attacked again, it paused, then yowled. Suddenly, Raphael appeared on its back, golden claws digging deep into its hide.

The wolf shook and growled, trying to shake him off.

“Quickly” Eitan struggled to say in between labored breaths. “This is our chance! Go after its legs” He cried out as he dashed forward, his sword at the ready on one hand.

The wolf was preoccupied with Raphael, or so it appeared. As it noticed Eitan approaching, it let out a deafening howl. As if responding to its call, five glintstone blades appeared in the air around it.

“Shit.” Eitan cursed, jumping backward as one of the swords shot toward him like an arrowhead. Instead of hitting flesh however, it only shattered against the floor.

Another two came, and Eitan swiped once, twice, breaking them into pieces with his blade.

Another one was blocked by a barrier set up by Melina.

“One more!” Eitan shouted, but it was nowhere to be seen.

At that moment, Raphael groaned in pain and lost his grip on the wolf, collapsing on the ground like a bag of rocks, a glintblade in his back.

The beast immediately manifested its sword and slashed at him across the chest, making the knight cry out.
Melina immediately made for him, golden magic already dancing around her fingertips. Eitan gasped as soon as he saw her. The wolf was already attacking, and this time it was aiming for her.

“Melina!” Eitan shouted as he grabbed his bow from his back and aimed at the beast. No. He wouldn’t make it in time.

The maiden had already set a hand on the knight’s chest, healing him. Eitan assumed that she would cast another barrier with the hand that she had pointed toward the beast, but no such barrier came, and the wolf seemed to know, as it jumped over her instead of simply attacking.

No more than a moment later, Melina’s hand erupted with a beam of light nearly as painful to look at as the sun at noon, burning through wooden seats and brick walls all the same, yet the wolf wasn’t there.

That’s when Eitan’s arrow was loosed against the beast in mid-air. This was perfect. It couldn’t move again. It’s trajectory was easily predictable.

The arrow flew, and the wolf saw it, as it appeared to see everything in this fight. Instead of trying to move, it gathered magic in between its jaws, aiming to shoot a burst of glintstone again.

Eitan was still in a shooting position though. He wouldn’t have time to dodge. And it was all for a pointless shot anyway. The magic would vaporize his arrow.

What he had enough time for was to close his eyes. And so he did, but surprisingly the pain never came. He would’ve believed in his own death had he not heard the beast yowl, accompanied by the spilling of blood.

Opening his eyes again was an effort, but he saw the beast still fighting, still kicking and growling while Raphael’s sword had impaled it through the heart.

“You were a terrible beast… And a valiant warrior.” Said Raphael as he forced the wolf down into the ground.

Despite its defeat, it still tried to bite him, and call upon the magic it had used thus far. It did not answer it anymore, and it must’ve been due to the fact that it was missing the energy to properly use it.

The knight set a hand on either side of the beast’s head, calling forth his claws again, and suddenly twisting with all his might.

A loud crack marked the end of the creature. A beast nearly as dangerous as the omen they fought at Stormveil. It’s intelligence in combat was unmistakable.

“What even…” Melina said as she fell to her knees, exhausted. “Raphael… Your wounds.. Do they hurt at all?”
“No.” Answered the knight. “All thanks to your healing.”

“I wasn’t sure if I managed to finish up.” She admitted

“Well, you came to my aid nonetheless, and that’s what matters. I wasn’t so sure we’d manage to take him down. This magnificent beast.” Raphael sheathed his sword as he made his way toward Eitan, who had fallen to his knees.

“Are you alright, brother?” He asked, extending a hand to the warrior.

Eitan promptly took his hand and stood up by him. “Yes..” And truthfully, he was spared the worst of it. Any real hit from the wolf would’ve been fatal. They were all lucky it hadn’t managed to hit anyone with lighter armor.

“Alright then! Now.. We make for the queen and find…” Raphael trailed off as he noticed Eitan’s expression change to panic. The knight turned around fully expecting the wolf to be alive.

“Don’t move! I’ll kill her! I mean it.” Someone called out. The voice was muffled, yet it was still possible to surmise that it was that of a young man. It came out shaky. He was terrified, then.

“Let her go, boy. We mean it when we say we’ll kill you” Eitan growled, sword angled toward the young man.

“No! I’m not an idiot. She’s the only leverage we have. You lot will massacre all of us if I let this go on!” He finally showed his face, or rather his mask. He had to peek over Melina’s shoulder in order to be visible. He wore a smooth silver mask, and a blue hood over his face. The dagger he pressed against Melina’s throat was made of glintstone. It probably had magical properties.

Melina sighed, her hands just hanging on her sides. “Let me go, young one… This won’t bring what you think it will.”

“If you think you’ve got leverage you are an idiot.” Said Raphael, smiling

“Why? You don’t care about your friend?” The young man cried out. Pulling Melina back violently. “I really can kill her-” He said right before having the air pulled out from his lungs. Within a moment he found himself with his back against the floor. Melina stood over him, her hand around his throat.

“Your grip was weak.” She said before standing up, kicking the dagger away from his hand.

*

Moonchilde, Lisevinde

Caria Manor
Every instinct was telling him to touch her, feel more of her, see more of her, have his skin on hers, be hers. Yet he still hesitated. She looked at him in question. “Is something the matter?”

He looked into those light blue eyes of hers, remaining quiet. He knew that what he was fond of was way more about her than just her body.. But he wasn’t certain that she felt the same way.

“I must assume that my body is unsatisfactory, then. Perhaps if you see more- perhaps in a different way.” She strategized, thinking out loud as always, but not moving.

That certainly wasn’t the issue. It took all he had to not be all over her. The sorceress’ bare breasts an invitation he strained not to accept.

“No… it's not that.. I can testify to being attracted to you, believe me.” Moonchilde admitted, feeling way more than odd about it. Reciting his feelings like study material didn’t feel quite right, though he still had to. “This.. Isn’t all there is to it. If I were to do this, it’d be because you.. Your existence, your company.. It means something to me. And I cannot exaggerate enough when I say that you mean a lot when it comes to that. If I am to feel comfortable with continuing, I must know that you feel the same way.. Or at least something nearing that.”

Lisevinde listened intently. She grew skeptical, troubled even. “What do you mean by… ‘something’... To me, ‘Moonchilde’, you, could mean many things.. A student, a teacher, someone I engage with, often..” She took her braid in hand and fiddled with it, something he couldn’t recall her doing much. He had never seen Lisevinde grow so skeptical over anything before. No spell, no task, no question, had ever gotten her so stumped, of that he was certain.

She withdrew, almost completely. Covering up again, she furrowed her brows and brought her knees to her chest. Moonchilde no longer knew what to do. He wanted to hug her, hold her close, comfort her. But would it even work? Would she understand the reason behind it, or would she ask what it was all for again?

Finally, with a sudden movement and glance, came an answer. “I don’t know..” The sorceress trailed off, yet kept her gaze steady. Her voice sounded as if it were about to break. She looked.. worried. She pouted, as if she were preparing to cry, yet no tears ever came. “Why do I feel like this?...” She asked him quietly.

Moonchilde shook his head. “That’s not for me to say… But I think its good.”

“How can it be good? It makes no sense!.. I should know-... It’s a simple question, isn’t it?” She panicked, her hands performing intricate gestures in front of him as she spoke.

“Well.. Not always. It wasn’t easy for me to come to the conclusion that I want you in my life.. That I would be sad if you were gone… That perhaps.. I appreciate you more than I would anyone else.” He didn’t believe it himself, but he genuinely had feelings for her, at least in that moment.

“Why?..” Was what she said in response to his words.

“That is tougher to answer.. But I can say a few things I like about you.”

Her eyes lit up at that.

“I like how happy you become when you do something I openly look up to..” He said, smiling, and earning a smile from the sorceress. “I like your eyes, for they remind me of the stars in the night sky… But most of all.. I like that you speak your mind… Even if its not the most appropriate thing to do.”

“It is only the most direct way to get an answer.” Said she, smiling. It appeared as if the tension that prompted her previous line of questioning had eased. “So.. You’d rather not try now?”

“...I’ve come to the conclusion that I would love to, Lisevinde, but only once you truly know what you feel toward me.. Think about it, but not too hard..” He said as he took her hand once more. The sorceress allowed it, reciprocated even, by reaching out with her other hand and caressing him again. “And.. Lisevinde… You’re more than beautiful.. Don’t go back to your conclusion that your body could’ve been the problem.”

“Then.. You had the appropriate reaction to it?” She asked, all too innocently.

“I- uh.” The knight stammered.

Lisevinde glanced downward, at which point he hurriedly stood up. “I have something to attend to- so.. I will see you soon. I’ll be glad to talk to you again.”

As the knight left, the sorceress only kept her eyes at where he last was. She didn’t say goodbye to him, but that was only because of how preoccupied she was with feeling… something. She couldn’t place it at all, but whatever it was, it made her heart beat fast and her body feel warm. She reached for her journal and started taking notes.

‘Elevated heart rate, body temperature higher than normal..’

*

Soralis

Caria Manor

That knight- Soralis remembered his name. Moonchilde. She would’ve asked him if he knew where the kitchen was, but he seemed to be quite flustered. His face was as red as a rowa fruit. Maybe he was upset? She didn’t know.

By the end of the hall she saw the sorceress from the other night. She was standing over a desk on the other side of a room. The door was wide open.

“Excuse me.” Soralis called out. “I’m sorry- I don’t remember your name, but.. Do you happen to know where the kitchen is? I would like to speak with the cook before I leave.”

The sorceress didn’t answer. She did however turn around, seemingly walking toward her, but in the end she only paced around the room, a finger placed on her lip in thought. She was mumbling some incoherent things.

“Hello?” Soralis said, knocking on the side of the door. “I need help finding the kitchen-... I feel ignored over here..” The huntress complained, pouting.

As if Soralis had said the magic words, Lisevinde turned to her immediately. “You!” She said, pointing. “You’ve had an intimate relationship- perhaps you can help me understand the variables comprising it?”

“Well I really need to get to the kitchen-..”

“I will help you as soon as I understand this. I think I’m close. Then I can go to him with an answer.”

“Okay…” Soralis mumbled. “What’s a variable?..”

“I will rephrase- could you explain to me what this intimate relationship is like to you? Why do you engage in it, what do you gain- and do you HAVE to say what you feel in order to move forward physically?” Lisevinde said in a rush. Locking the door behind her and walking in the direction the huntress came from, wearing only slippers and her robe.

Soralis followed, assuming they were walking to the kitchen. This made her happy. At least they were going where she wanted to go while having this conversation she barely understood.

“I don’t understand- Why are you asking me all this?” Soralis asked, shaking her head in confusion.

“That is irrelevant to my questions.” Lisevinde shot back. She let out a sigh. “I forget how dull most people are. I’ve been spending too much time with Moonchilde.”

The huntress glanced at her sidelong. “I get the feeling I should be insulted…” Having realized that Lisevinde is just… different, Soralis didn’t mention that she was being rude. “If you tell me what happened- and why you’re asking me these questions, I may have an easier time explaining what it is you want to know.”

The sorceress’ eyes stilled. Good. She was calmer. “I see. That is acceptable. I’m not happy to admit this- But I have failed to properly romance Moonchilde.”

‘Why do you have to say it like that?’ Soralis thought to herself. Though honestly, she didn’t really care, and didn’t want to sit there and talk to her for hours. She was partly hoping that they would walk past the kitchen so she could just walk in and leave.

“Which makes me question my methods.. He has admitted attraction- and his response had me assume there was a physical reaction, too…” Looking over Soralis she continued. “And it doesn’t seem like you’re more attractive than I am… So I must be missing something”

Soralis smiled at her out of disbelief. “It sounds like he was physically attracted to you, but had other reasons as to why he didn’t want to continue.” She said calmly. If anything, she was starting to be amused.

“What other reason would there be? Why would he refuse when there was a physical reaction?” She asked, leaning closer than Soralis was comfortable with.

Moving back, the huntress spoke. “Well- would you do this with just anyone? What about me? Or-... What about other men you’ve met?”

“I’m not attracted to you.” Lisevinde said flatly. “Nor was I ever attracted to any of the other men I’ve met.”

“That tracks.. So- is Moonchilde the most attractive man you’ve met?” Soralis didn’t think so.

Lisevinde didn’t respond for at least five paces, which, for as far Soralis had gotten to know her, was a long time for her mouth to be shut. “He’s the only one I’ve felt attracted to.. So, yes.”

“But he cannot be the most attractive man in the world, can he? I for example, do not find him attractive.” Soralis said, shrugging.

“No- That’s incorrect. Of course, I haven’t seen every man, but he is attractive.”

“To you” Soralis chimed, dipping rhythmically in as she said the words. “Attraction isn’t the same for everyone. What I’m trying to suggest is that it’s not solely appearance based, even though that still matters.”

“...Hm..” Lisevinde hummed to herself. “I misjudged you.. You are at least above average when it comes to intelligence… So you’re saying that there is something I hadn’t accounted for, as I had originally surmised… So I ask you.. What is it?”

“He probably told you, didn’t he?... What did he say to you that didn’t have anything to do with whether or not he was attracted to you?” Unwillingly, Arie came into the huntress’ mind. She recalled looking into his eyes.. Knowing his scent.. She blocked it off. She didn’t care about someone else’s memories.

“He said-..” Lisevinde seemed to recoil as she thought about what happened between them. “He said that he enjoys my company.. Suggested that he wants me in his life, and then said that he wanted me to feel the same.”

Soralis’ eyes widened. “What did you say?”

“I said I didn’t know.. I truly didn’t. I still don’t. How do I find the answer to that?” She asked genuinely.

“...You rejected him-” Soralis suggested.

“I did not-.” Lisevinde tried to say with her usual coldness, but a tinge of worry showed in her brows. “I even suggested we continue after my answer- I asked him if he’s certain he doesn’t want to do it.”

“It’s not just about wanting or not wanting to do it. What he wanted from you was a connection.. A-...” Soralis paused as she struggled to find words Lisevinde would understand. “A genuine willingness to have him in your life as a recurring… variable.” She ended up saying. “Okay-.. I.. I really have to leave now. I would’ve stayed here to talk to you if I had time, but I have to find the cook, and be on my way…”

“...I do not understand why… Why?...” She asked again, not listening to the huntress’ words.

“...That’s a question that may not have an answer. I suggest just waiting until your mind tells you what you want. Don’t think. Just wait.. Just feel. See if you think of him.”

“That’s completely irrational- what good is it to not study it? What would it yield?”

“It’s an alternative way to study it.” Soralis corrected, and it seemed like it clicked for Lisevinde. “Now please tell me where the kitchen is.

“The kitchen?” The sorceress stopped walking. “Oh-.. I don’t know. I don’t keep track of such things. Someone usually brings my meals to my room.”

Soralis let out a long sigh as she placed two fingers on her nosebridge.

Chapter Text

Moonchilde

“I’ve used all the willpower I’ll ever have today..” The knight said to himself. He thought he walked past someone that tried to say something to him, but he couldn’t get Lisevinde out of his mind. Not her eyes. Not her lips, or the way she caressed his hand. He couldn’t help but want more- want to see more, but he couldn’t do it. Not if it didn’t mean anything to her.. She had yet to show an understanding of anything beyond magic, to the point where he wondered if he meant anything to her as a person, or if she saw him as a project… because of the way his eyes worked.

Then again… Looking at him with those icy blue eyes, burning with expectation, begging him to set his hands on her.. just with her eyes. If this happened again he knew he couldn’t resist.

‘Moonchilde… I need you.’ A voice called. For a moment he imagined- hoped it was Lisevinde, but he soon realized it was the princess.
His train of thought froze. Any excitement he felt washed away as guilt and shame and duty filled his heart. Solemnly lowering his gaze, he made for Ranni’s quarters.

*

He had found Blaidd on the way to her. Apparently he too had been called to her.. This was so unlike her. He started to worry that something happened. Even more so when Blaidd didn’t even greet the knight.

The half-wolf walked through Ranni’s bedroom door with no hesitation. The only thing that stopped him was the sight of her. The doll body lay slumped over the bed, its legs laying lifeless on the floor. Next to it laid a living, breathing being, more divine, more… real, than any he’d ever seen.

The knight felt a compulsion to kneel immediately, and did not hesitate to follow it. This woman truly was the daughter of the Second Elden Lord, the daughter of the Champion. The one born to inherit the world, and the stars.

“Sister… My princess…” Blaidd called. “Your hair… Your eyes… It is as if I’m in a dream… Is it really you?”

“Yes, brother..” Ranni said weakly. “I am returned..”

Her red hair fell upon her shoulders. Amber eyes looked upon the two knights through a squint. As if merely seeing was an effort.

“I am not yet used to… being alive again, but I’m here…” She said quietly, raising her hand as Moonchilde went to speak. “I called you because there is something I need you to do for me… I cannot act, thus I cannot protect my mother… But the academy is under attack.. As if the two fingers expected this moment… So, please- go. Go and take Soralis with you, Lisevinde, too. Save the Queen… Then we shall discuss the matter of my brother.”

None of the knights said anything. Blaidd left first, Moonchilde followed.

As if she had been called by the princess, Soralis stood directly outside her bedroom, ready to knock just as the half-wolf walked out.

“Oh. It’s the little miss. Good. We were coming to find you.” Said Blaidd, bringing a hand to the huntress’ head.

“Hey- when did you and I get so casual- and I’m not ‘little’” Soralis complained.

“I must thank you for the great service you have done for us. If you ever need anything from me, you need only ask.” Blaidd continued, bowing slightly.

Soralis’ eyes softened as she smiled. “No need to thank me.. The princess deserved a second chance at life.”

“Well, we require assistance once more.” Said Moonchilde. “The Academy is under attack… We have no information on why and how, but the princess just relayed the information to us. You two meet me in the courtyard. I’ll go find Lisevinde.”

“Alright, lad.” Blaidd exclaimed, nodding.

“Wait- but I need to find my friends!” Soralis said as Moonchilde walked away.

“I would assume your friends aren’t in immediate danger.” The knight said back, not caring much for the huntress’ protest. He had a role to play in this court, and he would play it well. The Queen would be safe.

*

Lisevinde’s Quarters

His knuckles tapped against the sorceress’ door thrice.

The door creaked open. Lisevinde looked upon his face. It didn’t take her long to smile at him.

“Get ready. There’s an emergency at the academy.” He said bluntly. To which Lisevinde only responded with a professional level of calm. She had donned her silver armor pieces within seconds.

“Are there any details of the situation available? She asked.

“No. The princess just told us to go, mentioning nothing about the assailants. She only suggested that it may have to do with the two fingers.”

“Understood.”

“Good. You will use your transportation spell to get us there. Us two, Soralis, and the half-wolf.” The knight explained.

The sorceress turned toward him with a questioning glance. “I wouldn’t be able to use any of my other spells after that- I take it you’re aware of that?”

“Leave the combat to me.” He said flatly. “It will never be like it was last time. I won’t let you, or anyone else I care about be hurt like that again.”

He wasn’t quite certain, but he noticed Lise shifting at what he said. He must have imagined it.

*

Eitan, Raphael, Melina

The main courtyard of this level of the academy was completely empty. Eitan thought it completely possible for them to have killed most of the mages. None of them hesitated. Not even for a moment, as if they were faced with ruthless bandits, against whom a single moment of hesitation could cost one their life.

“This way.” Said Melina, leading them to the left side of the courtyard. They went up a flight of stairs, then reached a locked iron gate. Behind it lay another courtyard directly below the Grand Library.

Within that courtyard, except for the trees with curved trunks and colorful leaves, or the majestic fountain shaped like a young girl looking at the sky, stood a knight. A true knight, nothing like the leader of the company they defeated earlier. He had to have been aware of them, but he didn’t move at all. Only waited, his sword pointed downwards still in its scabbard as he rested his hands on it.

“That should be the Queen’s bodyguard… We outnumber him three to one.. This cannot go worse than the wolf.” Melina’s golden magic danced around her fingertips as she placed her hand on the gate’s lock. Within seconds, the lock withered and became dust.

“...Okay, remind me to stay away from you when your hands are glowing.” Said Eitan, readying an arrow.

Melina rolled her eyes as she walked forward, though Raphael set a hand on her shoulder before taking the lead. “I can’t heal like you do. It’s best if you let me be at risk of being attacked first.”

The maiden didn’t argue with his logic.

“You have just entered Carian territory.” The mage-knight cried out. “I, Moongrum, will not hesitate to kill you if you come any closer. I will not allow you to endanger the Queen.”

“We could ask first.” Eitan suggested.

Raphael was already walking toward the mage-knight, ramping up on speed with every footstep, finally breaking into a run.

“Very well.” Said Moongrum, raising his sword, his silver armor glimmering against the glow of Raphael’s claws manifesting.

The knight’s footsteps shook the ground around them, being felt all the way from where Eitan and Melina stood. He aggressively moved forward after reaching striking range, eliciting a step back from the mage-knight, who would be unwise if he were to actually take on Raphael’s attacks.

Slash after slash came from him, and all Moongrum could do was dodge. Blocking or attempting to deflect would instantly put him in harm’s way, as Eitan saw it.

The fight seemed over before it started, yet as one of Raphael’s blows neared the mage-knight’s arm, a shield appeared out of thin air. Raphael was blown back by a magical shockwave that made his ears ring.

Covering her own ears, Melina yelled at Eitan. “Shoot an arrow!”

“What? Where?” He yelled back, but Melina was already gone. She had become pure magic.

“This isn’t all about strength.” Said Moongrum, though Raphael could hear none of it. The ringing had gotten so intense, and caused him so much pain, but all of a sudden it just stopped. Before he knew it, Moongrum’s sword had plunged through his stomach and out of his back. He must’ve cried out in pain, but he couldn’t hear it. He could only feel a scraping in his throat.

“Be undone… Animal..” Moongrum continued as he let go of his sword, kicking Raphael back and unlatching his staff from his belt.

Slowly, he gathered an enormous amount of magical power at its core, and before long it manifested itself as a deep blue spectral blade extending out of it.

“You think you can do as you please in the Queen’s domain?... No…”

Eitan had loosed the arrow, right as the mage-knight’s sword descended upon Raphael. It didn’t take more than a single backhand swipe with his shield to deflect it, but it wasn’t meant to cause him harm.

As his focus was diverted, Melina reappeared again, burnt and battered, but carrying magic on her fingertips.

Moongrum’s magic blade fell upon her, but she stopped it with her hands. Straining against it, she poured her own golden power into it. The blade started humming, and the hum got louder and louder as the maiden and the knight fought for ground in this battle. With a final push, Melina managed to come out on top, pushing Moongrum away, his magic blade being dispelled.

With the mage-knight still off balance, Eitan loosed another arrow.

Moongrum dodged.. Right into Melina’s hands. She took hold of his helmet and poured her magic into it. With a shriek cut short, the mage-knight crumpled to the ground.

Raphael grunted behind her as he pulled the sword out of himself, the wound sealing itself, his armor growing over it again.

“Maybe let me take the lead next time.” Melina said to Raphael, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah… Magic’s your thing.”
“Oh, no, no! It’s your thing too!”

“I get it, Melina” Raphael said with a smile, to which the maiden responded by helping him get up.

“And NOW, we get to the queen.” Said Eitan, retrieving his arrows. One had clattered onto the floor after being deflected, and the other had stuck itself into a tree.

As he narrowly avoided stepping on Moongrum, he asked: “Is he… dead?”

Melina glanced at Eitan before speaking. “Oh, no. I didn’t wish to kill him. He’s certainly near death, but he won’t die. He’ll just be unconscious for as long as we’re here.”

“You scare me sometimes.” Eitan chuckled, setting himself into pace by her as they ascended up another flight of stairs.

“You’ve seen nothing.” Said she as she set a hand on his. A brief, gentle caress.

Raphael remained quiet as they neared the top. Soralis had to be here. He didn’t know what he’d do if she wasn’t. The doors to the Grand Library lay before them. All would be clear, soon.

“I’ll leave this one to you two.” Said Melina. “I had to force my way through the Academy’s magic. Count me out for anything labor related for a few days.”

Eitan and Raphael complied. She had just dispatched a dangerous foe for them. The least they could do was open a door, so they pushed, each of them on one side.

With a loud groan, the doors gave way, revealing a room so dark nothing could be seen.

Melina huffed in annoyance. “Another trick.. There is no choice. We must go forward.”

“Shouldn’t we think about this more?” Eitan suggested.

“There is nothing to think about- the Great Rune is right there- Moongrum could be up any minute now.”

“But you said he’d be out until we left” Said Eitan

“Well I thought we wouldn’t be here this long.” The maiden’s voice rose

“Wait.” Raphael stopped them. His voice low, and steady. “The Great Rune? We’re looking for Soralis.”

Melina turned toward the knight and stared daggers into him. “We are. We told you before we left from Stormveil that we were heading toward Liurnia. This is where we were headed, Raphael. The way I saw it, we were likely to find her here, especially since you saw a mage-knight- not much unlike the one we fought, right?”

Raphael shook his head. “Was Soralis even your priority?... Did you even CARE about finding her? What in the lands between is wrong with you?...” Raphael shouted, prompting Eitan to get in between them.

“Brother. Calm down..” Said Eitan.

“You. You knew, Eitan. You knew and you didn’t tell me. You-”

All was dark. As if the sun was snuffed out in an instant.

Melina immediately took hold of the others’ hands.

“Stay close. And shut your mouth, Raphael. Sure. Yell at us when we’ve survived.”

“I will.” The knight agreed.

*

Other than the three of them shifting and occasionally checking in, the darkness was completely silent.

Melina tried to cast her golden magic in order to produce some light, but it didn’t last more than a few seconds. The light fizzled out, revealing only the immediate area.

“At least we’re in the library..” Raphael noted, his hand tracing over the edge of a bookshelf

“We still might not be… This form of magic, while similar to my own, unsettles me. It can be used for far more than sealing, defense and offense. Like in this instance… This illusion.. I don’t know what to expect… And I don’t know if I could respond to any danger in time.” Melina explained, trying to keep quiet.

Despite her fears, the darkness slowly started to subside, revealing that they were in fact in the Grand Library. Light returned to their eyes. Chandeliers up above provided plenty of it.

“The Queen..” Eitan muttered. They saw her on the other side of the room, sitting in her throne, holding quite an oddity in her hands. A golden egg. Melina’s eyes widened.

“That thing.. It holds a Great Rune within it.”

“Melina, what should we do?” Asked Raphael, ready to call forth his claws.

“The Queen has not left this room… Not since the champion left her.” Said Melina.

“Well, can she fight?” Eitan readied his bow.

“I am unsure.” The maiden admitted.

“Come forth, sweetings..” Said the Queen, her voice lulling them into a false sense of security with its softness.

“Does she mean.. us?” Raphael twisted his head around, searching for enemies. “Do you think she’s got more mage-knights on her side?”

“Most of them were destroyed in a civil war.. As far as I know, only a few remain. Why?... Are you afraid of them, Raphael?” Melina teased

“A little” Said he.

“Where did ye hide, sweetings?...” The Queen spoke again, her eyes glancing over the allies, but not changing in expression, as if they didn’t mean anything to her.

Melina stepped forward. “I’ll take it from her.” She said suddenly.

“Melina, wait. You said that you couldn’t do much more-” Eitan went after her. “Wouldn’t this hurt you?”

“I’m tired of waiting.” She retorted. “Yes… It’ll hurt.. A lot. Even if I fail to take the Great Rune from her. But you’ll be here to catch me, Eitan.. Now stand back.”

Eitan stood there speechless as the maiden gathered her magic again, this time to gather instead of force power outward.

The Queen barely reacted to the egg’s magic leaving at first. She only glanced between it and Melina, her head laying back on her throne.

The maiden strained, letting out a pained cry. Her skin was burning.

“Melina!” Eitan cried out. “Raphael- come on, try that healing you did in Stormveil.”

“But I can’t- It’s-”

“Shut up! Just do it!” The warrior yelled over him.

The knight struggled to force a healing aura into her, as the skin around her hands was peeling away, revealing pure energy beneath it. Tears streamed down her face as she gritted her teeth, then all of a sudden, the majority of the egg’s energy came into her all at once, and she was blown back, falling into Eitan’s arms.

They all stood in silence as the Queen started wailing, the egg dust in her lap.

“Try it now..” Eitan mumbled, to which the knight only nodded.

The soothing power surged from his hands, slowly rebuilding the maiden’s skin.

Her eyes flickered open as she looked upon Eitan and smiled. “We did it…” She said weakly.
“We did..” Eitan smiled back. “You did…”

*

Queen Rennala had settled down. She was crying in her throne, speaking not a word, making not a move to reclaim what she had just lost.

Eitan held Melina in his arms as he sat on the floor with his back against a bookshelf, his hands resting on her stomach, a thumb gently grazing over it.

“How are you feeling?” He asked her quietly.

“Lethargic…” she mumbled. “You should carry me away from here.. Before anyone else arrives.”

“Who else is left?” Said Raphael.

“Don’t… Be so certain of our safety..” Melina struggled to say.

“I think we have plenty of time to speak now.. So this is the Queen that would know where Soralis is?” The knight chuckled. “Really?”

“Before you keep on making a fool of yourself, brother.. Allow me to say that this is what we wanted to clue you into, back in Stormveil. We intended for you to join us. Melina and I are planning to repair the Elden Ring.. Bring order back to the lands.”

“I got that much. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me about it sooner. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me we weren’t going to find her.. Clearly- she isn’t here. So you’ve wasted days I could’ve searched for her… She could be dead now- Or she could be desperately needing our help, but you just HAD to come here for the Great Rune, right?”

Melina huffed, then closed her eyes.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” He continued, walking closer to them

“I’m tired, Raphael… We’ll look for her as soon as we can… I care for her… But this… Age.. Has gone on for too long. I have to end it. We. We have to end it.”

“...You can’t care about this more than you care about an ally… A friend..”

“Raphael…” Melina rasped, Eitan held her hand. “What we’re doing will save her too. Who knows what could’ve happened to her in this uncertainty eventually?”

The knight shook his head. “Forget it. You don’t care, do you?”

Melina let out a sigh, turning the other way. Eitan rubbed her hand.

Raphael contemplated leaving. Maybe he should leave. Look for her by himself as he should’ve done days ago. Yes. He should’ve left Stormveil alone. Had he done that, Soralis would be safe.

He started walking toward the exit, but Melina spoke, so he halted, hoping to hear an apology, or a reasonable plan.

“Wait.. Something is… Coming.” She spoke a bit louder, bringing a hand to the throat. “Raphael..” The maiden scrambled to get off of Eitan, casting a barrier around the knight in a panic. On the other hand, he felt nothing approaching.

“Are you trying to earn my forgiveness? It isn’t worki-” Raphael was interrupted by a glintstone explosion that sent him flying toward the others.

Melina fainted. Eitan left her by the bookshelf, with no time to get her into a comfortable position. His sword was raised.

“The situation is dire.” Eitan cried out. “What do we do against another mage-knight?”

“Kill him.” Raphael growled.

A helmet appeared through the smoke, glimmering.

“There!” Said the knight as he moved forward, drawing his sword and slashing toward the unknown adversary.

His swings never landed however, as he was stopped by a large glintstone projectile that landed on his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

As the smoke cleared, he realized that he remembered this exact armor. “You.”
He muttered. “Where did you take her? Where is she?” He was moving again, as if unaffected by the attack he just took.

The mage-knight didn’t seem to be worried. He simply unsheathed his blade, and stopped Raphael’s sword with ease. “What is your goal here? What do you stand to gain.” He said to him, his sword blazing with magic.

“Where did you take her? Where is Soralis?” Raphael responded. Anything else sounded like nonsense to him. Frankly, it was all burning down into nonsense around him. He could barely understand words anymore.

He vaguely noticed Eitan rushing toward the opponents by his side, but not much more than that. He thought he heard something crushing down. Then pain came. Oh-... It was he that crashed down.

*

 

Soralis

Academy of Raya Lucaria

 

“Wait! All of you, stop!” Soralis shouted as loudly as she could, hardly believing her eyes. The two parties stared each other down. It was Eitan who spoke first and called out to her.
“Soralis?” He said, mostly in question. “What are you doing?”

“It’s complicated.” She responded. “Uhm- Sorceress…” She continued, still not remembering Lisevinde’s name. “Could you stop scrambling that knight’s brain?” The huntress pointed at Raphael.

“Why? That would impede our ability to defeat him” Lisevinde responded, sending faint strands of magic to Raphael’s head.

“Well-...” Soralis whispered something to the sorceress’ ear that made her stop immediately.

“Very well then.” She said flatly.

Moonchilde had sheathed his blade.

“These are your allies I take it then.”

“They are.” Soralis nodded.

“Well, we’ll have to know what they think they’re doing here, then.” Said Blaidd, stepping forward and approaching Raphael. “I know this one… Fought Darriwil with me.”

The knight appeared to be unconscious however.

“We were looking for Soralis.” Said Eitan, who returned to Melina, picking her up.

“Assuming that the Academy mages were behind it?” Moonchilde asked.

“Yes.” Eitan confirmed.

“Normally this would be a difficult situation for all of us.” Said Blaidd. “But this may prove to be good.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Moonchilde.

“You will see when we return to the princess. I say we leave someone here.. Or rather, I’ll stay, and you should relay my words to her.”

“Alright. I trust your judgement.” Moonchilde agreed. “You’re all free to go.” He said to Eitan. “Soralis, you as well. We will no longer require your help.”

The huntress smiled. “Give the princess my regards. My time with her was very interesting.”

“It may not be the last time our paths cross.” Said the mage-knight as he walked to Lisevinde. “Can you take us back?” He said lowly. To which the sorceress nodded, bringing a hand to his before they disappeared.

Soralis quickly turned to Eitan, hugging him.

“It’s good to see you again.” Her hug got tighter. Eitan groaned.

“It’s good to see you too” He managed through shallow breaths. “Ow- Ow-”

She then promptly moved toward Raphael and knelt by him.

*

Moonchilde

Caria Manor

The princess was already feeling better. She had managed to sit up on her bed by the time Moonchilde arrived. He was thankful for the fact that Lisevinde retreated to her quarters. He didn’t want to be in a situation with both of them present, lest Lisevinde say whatever was on her mind.

“My princess. I have done as Blaidd has bid me and returned. He said that you would be pleased with this outcome.”

Ranni looked over the knight who had knelt in front of her bed and motioned him to come closer with her pointer finger.

Moonchilde did as he was bid and knelt right by her. “Now talk to me, quietly… I’m still very sensitive to… Everything. Even sound.”

“Very well, princess.” Said the knight, lowering his gaze. “The assailants turned out to be Soralis’ allies. They killed several of the academy’s mages, the wolf, and they only incapacitated Moongrum. Blaidd said this would please you, though I must admit I do not understand why.”

The princess nodded in thought. “Indeed it is fortunate that Moongrum still lives. We only have three knights in our employ, and that is counting my brother Blaidd.. When it comes to his thoughts however… I believe he only wanted to avoid conflict.”

Moonchilde suddenly raised his head. “Is the outcome not to your liking? I could return.”

“No… My dear knight. It’s not that. It would normally be a great affront for them to kick down our gates and slay our people as they pleased but… Blaidd is hoping that I can see this as a beneficial outcome.. The academy has been doubting our power and moving of its own accord for years now. With it… destroyed like this, Blaidd must be suggesting that we can regain control of it.”

“I see.” Moonchilde nodded.

“Of course, we will do so, but we will need people, and of that resource, we do not have much.” Ranni added.

*
Lisevinde

The sorceress couldn’t recall having this feeling. Not once in her life.

‘A mild sense of unease in the chest. Being close to him amplifies this, and is followed by an elevated heart rate’

She wrote down in her notebook, bringing her pen to her lips as she thought.

Whenever she thought about feelings they could only be characterized in her mind as good, or bad. Feelings of pride and happiness accompanied perfect marks on her exams, and feelings of shame, anger, and sometimes sadness accompanied her near-perfect marks… But she had never felt this. This uncertainty, this unease. It was a thing wholly unknown to her, and she could not figure out the root of it. Was it Moonchilde himself? Perhaps. A case could be made for that, because as far as she knew, all that was necessary for the reaction was herself, and his presence.

Thinking about it so intensely had blocked out the feeling in her chest- for a while. She glanced down, then set a hand over it with a sigh.

‘Feeling reproducible without him. Thoughts of him are sufficient to cause a resurgence’

She wrote in the next line.

Was something wrong with her? Should she fix it? Could she? Should she avoid him until she figured out whether or not he was the cause?

No.. She didn’t like that idea.. And she supposed that mostly, she wanted to spend time with him… Was it out of curiosity? Did she want to investigate the root of the unease, or did she just want to be with him for the sake of it.

Thinking back, it had never been unpleasant with Moonchilde, from the moment she met him. Even when they were in danger, he provided this sense of security she’d never had.

She smiled to herself as she thought of him again. The feeling intensified, but it wasn’t all bad… She decided she didn’t quite hate it. In fact not at all. She struggled to categorize it as good or bad.

‘Unpleasant, yet oddly, pleasant.’
She sat on her bed, cross legged. If this was a test, she reckoned she would’ve failed it a few times before barely passing. Never before had she been this challenged by a thought, or a question.

‘What is he to me?’

She wrote down again, and wondered. Many things, she thought again. What did this question entail? According to Soralis, not answering was rejection-... But she truly didn’t know what the correct answer to this was. It was a matter of personal opinion, something at which Lisevinde was terrible. There was no personal opinion, only truth. There could only be one truth in every case, she knew that well.

Did she have to trust that feeling and answer? Not truly knowing what any of it means? If she were to be honest with her assumptions she’d write down

“Someone I could discover intimacy with” or “A suitable subject for experimentation”

Somehow she felt that both were horrible. She huffed. Perhaps she needed to say it as he would say it?

“How would he say it?” She asked herself…

In a misguided attempt to replicate Moonchilde- someone she saw as equally smart as herself, she ended up writing down something she would say.

“Someone with whom it would be beneficial to continue interacting.”

She’d found it. This was it. It felt so right she could burst from excitement. She had to tell him. She had to tell him now.

Their magic practice was at dusk. She had suggested a reschedule after they returned from Raya Lucaria to which he agreed. If she were honest, her intentions were not purely.. honest, as she didn’t care much about magic practice (for once in her life).

*

Moonchilde

The princess was quite prone to getting tired. Out of the few hours she had inhabited this body for, she had slept for a majority of them. Still, she was quite talkative despite being so drowsy.

“Did mother seem to be alright?...” She asked.

This was something she would be able to know about, but he assumed that in this state she couldn’t do much of anything.

“I didn’t see, my lady, but Blaidd is by her side. She is certainly safe.”
“Oh cut it with the ‘lady’ thing…” She said slowly, laying her head back.

“I will try, my… I will try, Ranni.” Moonchilde said with great difficulty.

“Good.” The princess responded, closing her eyes. “Did it go well? With my apprentice…”

The knight’s eyes widened. He didn’t expect the question. Lise had said that Ranni told her how to approach him- but he wasn’t so sure if he believed if. He honestly thought that the princess would’ve only done that as a joke.

“I don’t know how to interpret your silence, so I’ll guess.. Did she succeed?”

“Well… No…” Moonchilde said quietly.

“You refused her, then.”

“In a way.” The knight continued, not truly willing to explain the situation, or his feelings. He already felt quite pressured.

“That sounds more like a ‘not quite’ to me.” Ranni noted

“...That would be closer to the truth.” Said Moonchilde. “I truly wanted to, but there are certain things holding me back.”

“I see.” Ranni said flatly, covering herself with a blanket. “I do truly wish that you find the path you wish to take, Moonchilde. I will help you in any way I can.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

Ranni chuckled weakly. At his inability to address her by name no doubt. “I will sleep now.. So you may go.”

“As you wish, princess.” The knight said as he stood up, leaving the room with even more uncertainty than before. She hadn’t even mentioned the prophecy, but he got the feeling that she expected something.

*

He found Lisevinde waiting for him in the courtyard. She was standing by the railing, gazing absently over the land below. He thought that she looked more beautiful than she ever had, though he found that she hadn’t really changed at all since the last time they saw each other.

As usual she wore her jet black hair in a braid that reached her lower back, resting over her deep blue cape with the symbol of the manor inlaid in it in gold.

“There you are.” Said the knight as he walked toward her, his heard thumping slowly, yet more intensely than he could recall in recent memory.

“Where else would I be?” She asked, turning toward him but not quite looking him in the eye anymore.

“I… Still don’t quite feel like magic practice.” He admitted, at which point she nodded fervently.

“I would rather… Talk with you again.” She said as Moonchilde stood by her, looking off into the distance as well. He caught her scent once more, and managed to place it. Lavender.
Moonchilde didn’t speak. The silence didn’t quite feel heavy to him. Besides, she really looked like she was the one who wanted to do the talking.

“I think I have managed to find the answer to what you suggested earlier… Though my methods did not follow logic.. But I tried.” The sorceress set her hand on Moonchilde’s and turned toward him. The glow of the magical plants around them creating a glint in her eyes as the sun dipped beyond the horizon.

“Tell me..” Said Moonchilde, resisting the urge to pull her close.

“I… took notes, trying to find a conclusion.” She said quietly, her notebook appearing in her right hand out of nowhere. It was turned to a page where only a few lines were written, in complete contrast to her usual style of filling up whole pages with information.

She didn’t speak, nor look at him. She only presented him with the notebook, which after a few seconds he gently took.

“I’ve come to the temporary conclusion… That to me.. You’re someone with whom it would be beneficial to continue interacting… I’ve not settled on it yet, though.. I don’t know how to extract truth from something so.. Abstract.”

Upon reading the lines of writing on the notebook, Moonchilde smiled. “I feel the same things you do, when I’m around you.” He said, slowly bringing a hand to her waist.

The sorceress leaned in to his touch, then spoke. “If that’s the case, perhaps you can help me understand what they mean.”

“I could.. And I will.” He said, but paused momentarily, looking into those eyes of blue again.

“What is it?” Asked Lisevinde.

“Nothing.. It’s just that you’re so beautiful.”

The sorceress smiled, her lips curving upward, yet the rosy color of her cheeks betrayed her flusteredness.

“Alright- but did I find the correct answer?” She asked, impatient.

“The question was… What you felt toward me.. What I am to you, so the only true answer is the one you feel.. Do you want to spend time with me? Do you want to have me close?”
“Of course!” Lisevinde exclaimed, squeezing his hand as if to emphasize her point.

Moonchilde was still unsure, but this was as good as it could get. Every moment he didn’t go through with how he felt, his heart ached.

He decided that he would no longer do so, then.

He turned to face her as well, and brought a hand to her neck, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Close your eyes.” He said, and she did just that.

A moment later he placed a kiss on her lips. bringing his hand down and pulling her closer by the waist.

Lisevinde opened her eyes, surprised. “Did you just?...” She didn’t finish her sentence. Overcome with happiness, or excitement. She brought both hands to the back of his head and brought her lips to his, greedily, asking for more of him.

She broke away- breathing heavily. “Sorry- I-...”

“Don’t apologize for doing what we both wanted to do.” Moonchilde scolded her, his hands reaching for her lower back. “Though… I don’t think we’re in the right place, or appropriately clothed for this..” he said, motioning to the armor they both wore.

*

Lisevinde

The knight suggested they take a moment for him to take his armor off as they clattered into her room together. Lisevinde assisted him by simply willing it away with her staff. She really didn’t wish to wait.

“Well that’s a way to get it done” Moonchilde said to her as he picked her up and set her on her bed, undoing her shirt after she sent her armor away. This time he didn’t just look. He didn’t even wait a second to bring a hand upon her breast, using the other to cup the back of her head as he kissed her.

The sorceress couldn’t help but feel like she wanted more of this. Of what felt so right.

She could feel herself getting wet as Moonchilde brought his lower body up against hers, at which point she felt a compulsion to bring her thighs together. It was too much, feeling such a need for him. Her face felt so warm that she was certain she was as red as a rowa fruit.

He broke off after a few moments, but she still had his taste in her mouth. Before she could do or think of anything, he was on her neck, kissing, and giving her gentle nips that made her melt for him. She let out a deep sigh of pleasure at that, failing to understand where it was all coming from.

Moonchilde slowly moved lower with a trail of kisses. He moved down from her neck to her chest, not neglecting her breasts as he brought her nipples to his mouth.

Lisevinde was unable to look at him. Opting to close her eyes and move a hand to the back of his head.

He moved lower still, continuing his trail over her stomach right until she clamped her thighs shut out of embarrassment.

He smiled at her slyly as he lay by her, his hand grazing over her chest and lower stomach, yet still not moving further than that, not daring to move to her leggings.

“We can stop here if that’s what you want..” He said to her lowly, to which she already said no mentally a thousand times- but words didn’t come easy. Not at all. And all she could do was to shake her head at him.

“So we should stop then?” He said with a smile.

The sorceress shook her head again, but since she truly didn’t want to stop, she stilled, and moved her right thigh to the side, glancing at Moonchilde expectantly.

She didn’t need to do anything else for him to continue. His hand was on her inner thigh in an instant, and it took all she had not to make any sound.

She knew she had seeped through her leggings, and she was tired of being overly conscious of it. This was so unlike her. Another new feeling she couldn’t quite categorize. One that was completely gone as Moonchilde brushed over her.

Lisevinde let out a little yelp at that. The pleasure was unlike any she had ever known.

“It’s so different..” She managed to mutter to him.

“Compared to what?” Moonchilde said calmly as he brought his fingers to his mouth, smiling.

“Compared to when I do it myself…” She said quietly, watching as he moved to the edge of the bed.

“There’s more.” Said he, falling to his knees and bringing his hands to the sides of her waist, slowly pulling her leggings down, looking into her eyes intently.

The sorceress brought her hands to his and made him do it faster, at which point he chuckled.

“You’re eager, aren’t you?” He teased as he complied with her command.

“Hush..” She retorted, feeling utterly exposed to him, yet choosing to give in.

Her heart beat rapidly as he kissed along her inner thigh, his hands lovingly caressing her.
She breathed heavily with anticipation as he approached, bringing her hands to his head.

His tongue ran across her. Lisevinde moaned.

*

Raphael

Academy of Raya Lucaria

Gold within gold within gold, entwined, unchanging. Such was the perfect order. What was perfection if not a claim of absolute superiority that was often misproven with the passage of time? How could this order be perfect? Would any order ever be?

Raphael felt a well of doubt within him. No. Humans would never allow any system, any order to be perfect. They want, and take, they hate, and kill. Every human does as they please, and such is the case that the ones that follow the rules are fools, as are the ones that don’t, for when it isn’t everyone that follows them, all of them suffer in one way or another.

He was happy in the depths of unconsciousness, to the point where he wondered what on earth had brought him back to thinking, even if not in the waking world. He saw the golden hues of the Elden Ring in his mind's eye. The Great Runes overlapped with each other as they forged the order of the lands between.

Of course, death was missing, because for those who lived under the order, death was only temporary.

He had reached a point where he rejected such ideas with ease. He reckoned it was only normal for him to think of such things. He did grow up in Leyndell, directly under the Erdtree, after all. Still- spurned only unofficially by the inhabitants of the city, as he never truly belonged.

He often thought of the omens and the misbegotten. Other than the unshakable guilt within him, he felt a certain sense of belonging with them. They too were spurned, only much more violently- just for being who they were.

It was true, they could be savage, but so too were the humans; Yet the inhumans wore uglier faces, so they would be called monsters, and the humans would be called heroes.

There was one answer. A simple answer. Killing was an act of evil, often committed for other reasons under human understanding.

“Is that so?” A voice spoke.

“That is so” Raphael responded, not knowing to whom he was speaking. Humans often attributed other reasons to their selfish acts, but the usual motivators were greed; though that only applied to the ones leading. The ones doing the fighting killed out of ignorance or hate, simply because they believed every single word fed to them by their gods.

“And you- You make independent choices. Did you kill out of greed? Or- is there some god that points you in a certain direction? What words were you fed when you stormed the Academy with your allies, killing dozens of men and women?”

If Raphael were currently acting as a body, he would freeze.

“I… Was fighting to save a friend. As far as I knew she was injured and taken away by a mage-knight.” He tried to reason, a sharp pain hitting him where his heart should be.

“Hmm… Is that the case?” The voice hummed. At first Raphael felt that it was mocking him, but its tone revealed no such thing. It spoke clearly, asking what it asked as a normal question.

“I do not wish to kill anyone.. I only worried for her.”

“But your actions were akin to those of a beast. You hurt, you broke, you murdered… For your own personal reasons, right? They were to save your ally, as you said, but isn’t that, too, selfish? You did not try to reason with anyone. And it almost got you killed in the end.”

“Huh… So I’m not dead?”

“No.” The voice said flatly. “You’ve no guilt within you for those murders?”

“I do… But perhaps I’m no better than the others.. I never claimed to be.. More than a simple human.”

The voice grew distant. “...You have murdered your way to your goal, human… You have found her… Or she has found you… With her, you may be less of a murderer.”

“I’m not…” Raphael started, but the dream faded. The voice was gone. Far gone, as was he.

*

Having a body was torture compared to the experience he had before waking. Everything… felt… something. It was quite odd.

Opening his eyes was a task whose difficulty could only be rivaled by the relief he felt upon its completion.

“Hello there…” Soralis spoke

Raphael stilled. He could hardly believe his eyes.

“Soralis?...” He said, confused.

“In the flesh” Said the huntress.

She was sitting on a chair by his bed, which made him wonder

“Where are we?..”

“The Academy” She responded. “The princess has allowed us, as well as Melina and Eitan to stay here for as long as we need.”

The Lunar Princess? The daughter of the Queen. The Queen whose Academy he had raided. His worry must have shown in his face, because Soralis rushed to reassure him.

“Don’t worry- we’re not in any trouble for what happened… And, Ranni and I have come to be friends.. I spent some time in Caria Manor, during which I got to know more of her, so she suggested that since you’re my allies, she’s willing to let what happened here go. Her knight did take me away without explaining everything after all.”

“I don’t see how you knowing me and the others somehow absolves us of any blame.” Said Raphael.

“Well-... It doesn’t, exactly.. She did request assistance with something in return for letting you three go…” Soralis responded.

“Well? What does she need help with?” Asked he, slowly rising from his bed.

“She intends to…Liberate her brother from the curse of rot that eats at him…” She explained hesitantly.

“Her brother?... The Starscourge? General Radahn?” Said the knight, wide eyed. He had heard countless stories of the demigod. Stories of his skill and strength, of his prowess as a warrior. And way too many of his current condition. It was well known that after his fight with Malenia, he was reduced to a walking corpse. Still a demigod, but rotting on the inside.
“What will she have us do?..”

“We will assist her forces in defeating him. What they do with him after that, according to Ranni, is up to them, and they will require no help with it.” Soralis explained

“I see-...” Said Raphael, not quite in the mood to ask more questions. He was way more interested in what exactly happened with the Carians, something that Soralis was more than happy to go into detail over. She spoke to him of Ranni’s need of a body, and how she made it. Of the amazing food she ate every day, and of the cook she eventually found and got to thank for it.

“That sounds like quite the adventure.” Said Raphael, smiling.

A silence hung between them as he thought of what he’d been doing all this while.

“I’ve been…” The knight started, struggling to find a way to explain himself. He tried to reach for her hand.

“I know.” Said Soralis, standing up. She clearly saw his attempt to touch her, but avoided it nonetheless. “You were worried about me… And you lashed out.. You killed.. So many people.”

“I only wanted to find you- I was looking out for you.” He tried to reason.

“I don’t need anyone to look out for me! Not like that!” She cried out. “I don’t need another me!” You-... You should’ve stayed the kind knight I met by the lake… The one who left his comrades because of their cruelty. Be that!”

“Why are you saying this?” Said Raphael, using all of his power to keep the pain away, but still failing. “Why… I-...”

“You even gave your friends trouble for me. Yelled at them- told them they didn’t prioritize my safety! Raphael- my safety is not your job. We barely know each other… I don’t want you going on killing sprees over me. I don’t need this. I don’t need a protector.”

“I was just worried about you.” Is all he said, deciding he would no longer reason with her.

“Well I can’t take that.. I don’t want you to worry about me if it means that someone will die whenever I’m in danger… I just lost Yura… And that was my fault. I don’t want you to go down that same path… I don’t want to make everyone into monsters.. I don’t. So you’ll help Ranni, but I’ll leave… I’m not indebted to anyone, because I didn’t kill half an Academy.” She said and stormed off.

Raphael was left alone, confused.

*

Moonchilde

Lisevinde’s Chambers

Moonchilde and Lisevinde lay under the covers, facing each other. The knight’s hand rested on her waist, while she caressed his cheek with her own.

“Did this feel as good for you as it did for me?...” The sorceress asked, smiling

“We haven’t done anything to me yet, but it was definitely enjoyable…” Said Moonchilde. “You however really sounded like you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did..” Lisevinde admitted. “You were more than satisfactory” She finished

The knight chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Satisfactory you say.” He said, placing a kiss on her lips. “You were amazing.”
The sorceress blushed, lowering her eyes. “Does this constitute any changes in our relationship? Will this be a regular occurrence?” She asked through not so innocent eyes.

“I would like both to be the case… Lise.. I really do enjoy your company.” Moonchilde said, bringing his hand further up, feeling over her bare skin.

“I enjoy your company as well, Moonchilde. You’re not as dull as everyone else.. Or rather- you’re not dull at all.. Say… Did you enjoy what just happened as well?” Lisevinde asked, moving his hand to her breast.

The knight only smiled at her. “Of course. Did you not believe me the first time?”

“It’s not that..” Said Lisevinde. “It’s just that I would like it if you did it again.”

“Again?” Asked Moonchilde, that smile never leaving his face.

“Again.” She persisted.

“Of course. I’d love to do it again, but we’ll have to actually get to casting magic soon. We’ve got a lot to do… And I’m afraid none of it will be easy.”

“Alright.. But let’s not talk of this now.” She said as she leaned in for a kiss.

It appeared that Moonchilde’s worries were unfounded. It didn’t take her long to figure out what she wanted. Perhaps she was a genius when it came to emotions as well.

*
Eitan

The warrior was fixing the fletching on his arrows. He had stored various feathers on Torrent, which he was able to access now, since the spell keeping spirits away was disabled for their convenience. He didn’t really feel much more powerful with the power of this Great Rune, but it certainly was a hell of a pain to have it transferred to him. He even asked Melina if there was a way to make it painless, but she only laughed at him.

“Greatness doesn’t come easy” She said to him back then. And it was true. For power to come, training was necessary. Pain, hardship, and a will to survive were necessary to survive in the Badlands, and with them, often came true strength. That was what he lived by. What his people lived by.

It was a code of life for savage lands. For the current world. Not one he wanted to live by. This world necessitated violence, and without it, one could not survive. The Bloody Fingers, The Kaiden, even the Demigods, each and every one of them enforcing their wills, trapped the common folk in the crossfire, leaving them to die once and for all, or bringing them back again and again until they withered away. That was what had happened to his friends when they were killed by that monster, Nerijus. The Erdtree finally decided that they were unfit for this world, more useful to it as dust than warriors. For warriors were what it needed to fight its wars for it.
“Deep in thought?” A voice spoke. Eitan recognized it as Raphael. He glanced up at him and couldn’t help but smile.

“Good to see you up and running again, brother.” He said, motioning to the floor next to him so that the knight would sit down.

He did, watching over the Academy’s upper courtyard as the sun’s rays fell upon his face.

Water slowly trickled from the fountain in the midst of the courtyard, right under the stargazer statue.

Eitan only continued to work on his arrows. He saw that Raphael had things to say, but he wouldn’t say them.

He decided to go first and ask. “Did Soralis speak to you?...”

“She did.” Raphael responded. “I don’t know what to say, nor do I feel like I should say anything at all.”

“She was… Quite angry.. Though- don’t blame yourself. The mages weren’t so friendly either.” Said Eitan

“They weren’t? Did they get a chance to be friendly?... I’m not like that, Eitan. I’m not a murderer. And I certainly cannot abandon a friend in need.” The knight explained.

“And that is valiant of you.. But don’t think you were in this alone. Both me and Melina killed…” The warrior chuckled. “Now we’ll all pay the price, so take it easy, brother.”
Eitan raised a brow for a moment before continuing. “Well- Melina is completely overjoyed. She’s hoping we can take Radahn’s Great Rune, but I don’t know if the Carians will be happy about that.”

“Maybe they won’t be… But that’s not our problem. We’ll find a way.. So… You wanted me to join you… You’ll bring order to this world?... That’s no easy task.” Said Raphael, furrowing his brows. “We’ll need to go back to Leyndell..”

“We will indeed.. That’ll be interesting.. We might meet my father… It’s where he set off for.” Eitan said

Raphael tilted his head. “My father will be there too. What business does yours have in Leyndell?”

“I don’t know.. My people never spoke of their past. They all hail from different places, and they all have different tasks… My father… Is undoubtedly the strongest of us though.” The warrior explained.

Raphael hummed. He was thinking. Whatever it was that he had on his mind, he didn’t tell him. “Well… Since you’re up, we ought to tell Melina and the others… We’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
“Already moving on to the next fight, eh?” Asked the knight, letting out a sigh.

“I don’t like it either, but it has to be done..” Eitan responded as he fixed the final fletching and set the arrow in his quiver.

*

Soralis

The huntress was convinced that she had an effect on people. Ever since Ranni reduced the effectiveness of the numbing spell over the Academy so that Melina could call Torrent, she felt a complete separation from Yura and Eleonora.

It wasn’t just that however. Memories surged back, as if they had been lying in wait. Memories that belonged to her. Recent memories, but also memories that she could not recall having herself.

She was with him during his final moments.. Watching over him as he died, completely consumed by her very own blood. She was responsible. She had killed him the moment she healed him back in the Mistwood. She had damned him to die cursed and alone. She didn’t know the effects her blood had back then, but it was difficult not to blame herself with her current knowledge. So difficult.

“He only died because he wanted to.” Said a person in her own voice.

*

Soralis

Blood Realm

Soralis was in that damned place again. Blood flowed all around her, dripping downward into the ruins of Lord Mohg’s palace. The huntress stood in place, with no real footing beneath her. Further below sat the other self.

“Talkative this time, are you?” She asked the silver-haired girl.

“I only wanted to help.” She responded, sitting among pillars and arches, the ocean of blood flowing beneath her.

“Did you? Yura didn’t choose his death. I granted him it when I healed him. You know that.” Soralis said, gritting her teeth.

“I know that he could have lived as we did… Eleonora didn’t die because you gave her your blood. She rose up the ranks, became a respectable enforcer of the Lord’s will. Until I helped him cleanse her.” Said the other self.

“You did this?... Why?... He died because of it! He should’ve waited for me!” Soralis yelled at her, trying to reach her but being entirely unable to. What lay between them wasn’t simply a barrier or a wall. It was nothing, yet something.

“I did what I did out of your care for your friend.” Said the other self, undisturbed, simply looking away. “...I see now that you’re quite ungrateful.”

“But you killed him…” Soralis broke, slamming her hands against the thing that wasn’t, yet feeling no force. Her tears streamed down her face and fell down, directly on the other self.

“There was no other choice but to do as he wished.” The other self stated, looking up at her with a hint of care. “He would have died no matter what… I’m sorry… But there’s no changing that.”

“But you could’ve done more.. I could’ve done more… I’m… The Pale Finger.. And instead of protecting my dearest friend, I was… Wasting my time..” Soralis said, sobbing.

“You’re only the Pale Finger when it matters, aren’t you?” Said the other, not hiding her derision. “I can’t believe you… Make up your mind… What are you doing? Why did we even leave?”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone else.” Soralis responded.

The line was blurry. Unseen. Yet impenetrable only for her.

“Where do I stop, and where do you begin?” She asked the other self.

“I believe neither of us will ever know the answer to that question. We are one and the same, yet different… Ever so slightly, however.” The other said quietly.

Was there no line? But if there wasn’t… That meant she was- no. She couldn’t be.. A

“Killer..” She muttered.

“What did you say?” The other asked, standing up to look at her.

“You’re the killer, not me.. You… The tainted blood.. The curse. That’s… You. All you.” Soralis cried out.

The other self only looked upon her with sorrowful eyes. “We’re both killers. We’re the same. You are doing nothing, if not talking to yourself, Soralis.. Wake up… Your friends.. Our friends need you.”

Friends… Images flashed in her mind. What friends?

Sena?... Arie? Eleonora?... Yura?.... Kale? Eitan?... Raphael?..

“Who are you talking about? Who do you want me to save?” She despaired, standing up and lashing out around herself, bloodflame talons being drawn forth, cutting through the air, burning.. burning… nothing at all.

Darkness. That was all she saw. No other self, no blood, no ruins. Perhaps this was where she ought to be. No blood, nothing to hunt. No friends, no one to hurt. No gods, no one to hurt her.

“You want to save them… Be by their side.. Use our tremendous power for good for once.. You are wholly unaffected by the curse.. You live beyond it. Do what you want to do, Soralis. Just do not go back.” Her voice again, speaking to her through the darkness.

“Of course.. I should go back.. He’s the cause of all of this… The root of my problems..” She said to herself, placing her talons on her chest, feeling them burn through her skin.

“He is not. You are placing your faults on others again. Stay away from Mohgwyn Palace.” It was another voice this time. She remembered it well. Too well.

“Nerijus?...” She muttered.

“Hello… ‘friend’...” Spoke the bloody finger. He appeared before her in the flesh. “You were always just a little bit better, weren’t you?... Now you’re just a bit more alive than I am… But you’ll get what’s coming for you… You’ll die, soon enough.. Just like you deserve.”

“You have tormented me enough, Nerijus. Go…” She said solemnly. Many a time had he gone overboard during their sparring sessions. Rending her flesh, draining her blood, breaking her bones… Of course, the rules of their society allowed no one to interfere with their spar.

“You are tormenting yourself, Soralis… You have to let go of the past already.. And of us, too…” That was the voice of Sena.

“You… Why are you here?...” She asked her.

“Why-... I’m here to help you, my friend… I do not resent you for what happened in the end… We accused you of leaving us, and turned on you.. Would a true friend wish death upon another?... No.. Never.. We were changed.” Said Sena, moving closer.

“You tried to kill me… You almost did kill me…” Soralis remembered.

“I did… But it was not truly me.. I had orders.. given by our Lord. You must know that we cannot disobey..” Sena explained.

“Then… I killed you, and you did not have a choice in your actions.” Said the huntress, looking away.

“Everything must always be your fault.” Sena said, chuckling. “You haven’t changed old friend, shouldering the world.”
“I’m not.. I’m only being truthful as to what I’m responsible for.” Soralis retorted.

“So you may think.” Sena said, fading away.

Soralis closed her eyes. Opened them.

“Do you remember me now?” Said Arie.

“The Raven..” She exclaimed, averting her eyes.

“You know well that’s not my name.. Even though I insisted you call me that in the past.” He said, taking her hand. “You know me as Arie.. Your best friend… At least I hope- because you’re still my best friend”

The huntress sighed. “I remember you Arie.. I really do… I’m responsible for your death, as well..”

The assassin raised a brow. “That you are not. It wasn’t even you who killed me.. You could say I got you this time, huh? You must’ve liked my techniques. Gotta admit they were well thought out”

Soralis smiled, though only slightly. “I hated them… That rotten bolt really really hurt.. you came prepared to fight me, huh?”

“Sure did. Sorry about that… but I finally beat you for once.” He said, smiling.

The huntress shook her head. “Why are you all doing this?”

“Because we care about you… you may not remember all of it, but we truly were friends.. We may not longer be here for you, but we were all lost. Even… Nerijus.” He said, motioning to the finger that gazed at her balefully. “You didn't kill us… well- you certainly didn't kill me- yourself” he chuckled to himself. “But we all died the moment the Lord have us his blood… and you know this…. Yet you still blame yourself. No… I say no. Please, if you can be happy, go ahead and live your life…”

“I should at least make up for my mistakes…” She started.

“No. Hush… don't blame yourself.” Arie interrupted.

“Alright… but I want to do right by our people… I want to save them from the Lord… like we said we would..” She muttered.

“...Then do so, if that's what you want.” Arie said. “I won't be here to tell you not to blame yourself anymore, so do it for me, please.. We will fade away soon… we'll simply live on as blood within you…” The Raven contemplated his words. “I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough.. in the end, I too succumbed… I wish I hadn't.” He smiled with those honest brown eyes of his… as they were before they turned to that red of vengeance. “Farewell…”

Soralis looked on as the best friend she had never known as herself dissipated into blood. She closed her eyes, as if bracing for the pain this caused her.

Behind him, Nerijus still stood, lowering his gaze.

“Sorry..” He said as well, before dissolving into blood.

The dream faded, as did this space. All these people she did but didn't know… She felt like weeping for them. She decided she would… this body.. had these memories… her body… This was her.. looking back.. it was her.

Chapter Text

Varre

Blood Realm, Council of Fingers

The blood ocean still raged, even though it was calmer than it used to be. It raged as did Varre, as would their Lord if he knew of the extent of the situation… But he was off. Off tending to his God. Their one and only responsibility. That was quite fortunate.

Dried crimson laced the steps, sticking to Varre’s soles as he ascended. He gritted his teeth with a pressure way more than would be wise. His eyes- bloodshot.

“We are truth!” He cried out, calling the others.

“For we are true blood.” They said back to him in perfect unison.

“The world is ours!” Said he.

“For we are pure.” They responded.

“May the world bleed!” The white mask shouted, feeling his vocal cords grate.

“So our holy mother may feed.” The other fingers finished.

“Okina, The Demon
Hanabi, of The Red Cyclone
Arctus, The Frozen
Nikhan, Scholar of Worlds.”

The fingers all stood up in greeting. Then sat back down again.

“This is what the Pale Finger would make of us… First she abandons us… And then she murders us, one by one… So few of us remain, my lambkins, that our efforts must again be doubled… The blood of humans and beasts will not be enough… The Raven fell to our enemy, and The Violet finger has mysteriously disappeared… Trying times await us, but through trying times the pure ones such as us only triumph!” Said the white mask, raising his fist up in the air.

Varre kept his eyes on that fist. Staying like that for a few seconds as if awestruck. The blood moon hung low further back, beckoning them. Pulsating like raw, living flesh.. Like the inner being of an enormous creature.

He lowered his hand, looking down at them. “Do you hear that, lambkins?... The call of our mother… She has been neglected far too long… We abuse her powers yet bring NOTHING in return.” Varre said as he paced.. If one listened intently, and only if they let it find them, they would hear a faint heartbeat, echoing through the realm.

“You have all disappointed me greatly, for the traitor is not yet found.. Our mother speaks to us, and the path forward is clear! We must kill the traitor, and give our holy mother her blood! Only thus will she be sated… Only thus shall we grow.. So I ask thee, brothers and sisters… What have you been doing?..”

Varre posed no true question. They could not answer if he did not give them permission to speak. He only glared at each and every one of them as he paced next to the throne, before sitting down.

Suddenly, he slammed his fist down upon the armrest of his throne. The realm shook in response, blood crashing against the ancient stones upon which they stood in droves.

“If you return to me with failure again, I will not be as kind, lambkins…”

He continued, as he raised his weapon from the side of his seat.

The infamous among fingers bouquet… A mace wrought of sharp metal, meant to inflict pain and draw blood in the most painful way imaginable. It was known that the weapon was made by the white mask himself. No finger respected him for it, despite their own violent tendencies.

“Caria Manor…” He spoke again. “One of our own resides in Caria Manor… It must be the traitor.. I believed her skilled, but it appears that I am mistaken… She seems to have lost the ability to mask her own presence. To hide her blood from us…” He continued, toying with his bouquet. “Go… Find and kill the traitor… If you return without her, I will assume that you have disregarded my orders.”

All of the fingers bowed, accepting the white mask’s orders… All except the demon. Okina.

No one spoke. Not a soul. Even Varre was shocked to see that.

“I pray for you to our mother that your insolence is the result of your dullness… If that isn’t the case, I will enjoy carving your skin, demon.” He said in a low voice.

Okina stood silent, arms crossed. His katana, the well known- even among humans, Rivers of Blood, restless upon his hip.
“I will not take orders from a heathen such as you.” The man said flatly. The mask he wore only enraging Vare further. It depicted an old man smirking.

“You will stand down now, or be cut down.” Varre commanded.

“I take orders from Lord Mohg… I will not kill a sister. Not unprovoked… Yet I will gladly test my blade against any who choose to attack me. Go on, white mask. Sic your dogs on me… They who are too weak to defy you. I will kill them, and you… I will spare you the torture you choose to inflict on your victims…”

“How DARE Y-”

“Your claim on that throne is false. It has been false since the day you deigned to assume it… Our numbers have simply dwindled under your leadership, if one should call it that… If you are powerful enough to lead, you should be powerful enough to fight..” The demon scoffed. “Unheard of… You are a disgrace, white mask. You were a plaything… A piece of dirt unfit even to step on… The lord may have granted you his blood, but had he willed for you to lead, he would have given you a weapon such as this…” He said, motioning to his katana. “The Raven, The Drake-Hunter, and the Pale One were all recognized by him… But you… You’re a charlatan.”

“Kill him!” Varre shouted from his throne. The ocean raged once more, waves of blood wafting over the ruins.

Something moved, too fast for the eye to see.

“I admire you, sister… Your blood is certainly from the Land of Reeds..” Said Okina.

Hanabi had followed the white mask’s order, dashing in to kill the demon. She had been forced to stop however, with both of her bladed fans deflected, and a dagger-blade on her throat.

She only grunted her frustration as she broke off and took a step back.

“You are wise to stand back, brothers… You know well I will not hesitate.” The demon said loudly. “I will not go after your throne, white mask. I will leave this place until my Lord returns to us… Should I meet the Pale One, we will cross blades… If her blades speak true, I will return with your destruction…”

With these words, Okina jumped into the ocean, fading into its rage and unrest.

The white mask tightened his grip on the stone-built armrest. Bloodflame talons formed on his fingers as he crushed the rock in his hand and cried out in anger.

“Do you take me for a fool?” He shouted loudly as he suddenly appeared in front of the three remaining fingers. “Every single one of you is weak! I could kill you right now if I wanted to, and perhaps I should!”

He brandished his bouquet, placing it on Hanabi’s skin. “A cyclone?... You’re a mere gust of wind, girl…” He said, suddenly moving the weapon away, leaving a floral pattern on the woman’s skin.

Hanabi did not respond to the pain or the action. She only looked on blankly.

“Go… And do not return without both of their heads… Do not fear death… For I will make you wish you were dead if you fail me again…” The white mask spoke lowly.

*

Soralis

Liurnia of the Lakes

The huntress awoke to the scent of food. Tasty, juicy boar’s meat she thought. She wished it wasn’t a dream. She really did, because she really was hungry, and sad, and she could really use a good meal.

“Ah. There you are” Spoke a familiar voice. It was accompanied by the sound of oil sizzling in a pan.

“Kale?...” Said Soralis, mostly as a question. She turned to the side to see the merchant cooking for her. Talla was standing beside him, munching on some bright green grass.

“That is my name, but I thought you’d have forgotten, seeing as you just left me in Stormveil..” He said with a raised brow, and a feigned expression of anger.

“About that-.. We just thought that it’d be-”

Kale raised a finger. “Don’t explain yourself to me, Soralis.. I know well that you intended to protect me, but let me remind you that I don’t need any protection. None at all, in fact… Perhaps under different circumstances I would pretend to be mad at you for a little longer, but seeing as we lost a good friend recently… I cannot.”

Soralis furrowed her brows as she was reminded of it. If Yura was here… He’d probably be drinking with Kale, which made her slightly less sad. “Yura..” She muttered to herself.

“You said his name in your sleep.. Well, you said a lot of things in your sleep.. Most of which I chose to ignore.. But-.. Why were you asleep in the middle of nowhere?” The merchant asked, setting a cut of boar meat onto a wooden plate.

“I… Decided to leave the others..” She said after a few seconds of thought. The rest of the reason was too heavy.

“And?..” Kale asked. The huntress looked at him like a cornered animal.

“Well- I..”
“Just tell me, Soralis.. I’ve known you for quite some time now.. I believe I’ve garnered some trust. If not enough to be notified of the fact that you’re leaving, then at least enough to be spoken to.” He reasoned.

Soralis sighed before continuing. “I feel like Yura took this path because of me.. He became a bloody finger, Yura.. At least- for a short while. I thought I could control it.. I really did.. But as soon as he ventured off on his own, I lost sight of him.. I couldn’t keep him stable… All this, because I believed myself able to heal him without spreading the influence of my blood.”

Kale nodded. “A difficult situation indeed.. Is that why you’ve separated from the others?”

Soralis nodded in agreement. “I do not want this to happen again.”

“Then don’t heal anyone else with your blood.” The merchant said as he handed her a plate. Boar meat and sparrow grass.

“I suppose it really is that simple.. But I don’t trust myself.. Not yet.”

“Huh.. A pity… And I found a friend in need of help.” Said the merchant.

“Really?” Soralis exclaimed in between bites. “Who?”

“Really…” He responded, motioning his hand toward an empty patch of grass.

A spirit appeared out of nowhere. It seemed to be that of a sorcerer. With a flick of its staff, it dispelled some hex… A spell that kept things unseen. The spirit disappeared again, and in that patch of grass… A woman. A woman she knew as Eleonora.. The Violet Bloody Finger.

“You found her?” Soralis said suddenly. “Then you found Yura too!”

“I did… And I gave him a proper burial. Not by the Erdtree, for he did not see grace.. In any case, my people do not follow such traditions..”

Soralis listened eagerly as the merchant spoke. Kale seemed to continue only for her sake.

“He seemed peaceful in death. I would be, too.. He had fulfilled his purpose.. This here girl is proof of it… I don’t know about you, but when I checked her eyes, she did not seem to carry the curse anymore.”

“No.. She doesn’t..” Soralis admitted, glancing over at the unconscious Eleonora. “How long has she been asleep for?”

“Three days..” Said the merchant. “I’ve been feeding her broth, but that’s not enough to keep a person going.. She’ll need real food, and soon.”

“Losing the cursed blood… I imagine it’d be taxing.. Her body was made to… Make use of it… I wonder… One living without it after relying on it for so long… Would it weaken her?...” Soralis pondered.

“It appears that she still retains some of her traits.. Any other person in her state should have deteriorated much faster… But she appears to be doing just fine..” Said Kale

Soralis nodded. “We do not often need for food…”

The merchant raised a brow.

“Well- I’m different. I eat because I like it.” Said the huntress, stuffing herself with greenery.

“I see-... So I didn’t need to be cooking you three meals a day then… I’ll remember that.”

“I still feel hunger if I don’t eat for a few hours. Don’t think you can get away with not feeding me.. That’s inhumane.” Soralis complained, furrowing her brows

The merchant laughed wholeheartedly. “Inhumane! All right then. I’ll be sure to keep doing this for you… Though I was hoping that you’d learn how to cook someday.”

The huntress smiled, then shook her head. “Someday, maybe. But for now I’m quite busy.” She said, finishing up her plate and standing up. She walked to Eleonora and sat down by her side. She looked just like Soralis remembered. Just like she did in her memories..”

*

Soralis

Depth of Memory

It had become a common occurrence… Living in her mind. It was so easy for her that she wondered whether or not this was a habit of hers when she was still the one everyone dreaded. The strongest Bloody Finger. The Pale One.

It seemed like she was back in time.. She recalled this place as home, but this time she was aware. It wasn’t just a dream.

She was in a tavern… Standing up in the midst of everything. People walked around her- others sat and ate. She recognized many of them, but could not place names upon faces. There were a few she remembered well. Sena, the Morphing Finger sat at the table by her. So did Eleonora, the Violet Bloody Finger. Standing in front of her was… Raven.. The Assassin.

Soralis must’ve looked like she was dazed, because no matter what the people around her said, she only looked on, as if she had been struck in the head.

“Soralis?... Are you alright?” Asked Arie, reaching a hand out to her side.
Inwardly, Soralis wondered, even recoiled, but that wasn’t what happened in this memory. Her body spoke, and it seemed like she was simply a passenger.

“I am… I just think I’m tired.” She muttered, sitting down by Eleonora.

“Have you ever thought that you push yourself too hard?” Asked the Violet Finger, bringing a tankard of ale to her lips. She drank deeply- until she finished it, placed it on the table with a tap. Like clockwork, Meena, the tavernkeep, came to get Eleonora a refill. She was quite like Yura, Soralis thought.

“Maybe that is the case.. But it is necessary. And.. I can take it. It’s not an issue.” The huntress felt a momentary despair because of how similar she and the other self were.. This was odd… It felt as if she were simply watching over herself somehow, the only difference being the silver hair.

“At least you’ll eat a ton.” Said Sena with a smile. The Raven sat by her.

“I will certainly do that. I would be a fool not to prepare myself.” Her body said as she simply watched.

“As if that’s the reason.” Aerie chuckled. “You would’ve eaten all the same even if you didn’t intend to train. Meena’s boar cuts are way too alluring for you to pass them up.”

Her body chuckled in response to that, her cheek laying on her palm as she gleefully watched The Raven. Soralis concluded that this was her family.. Once.

The memory faded. Slowly at first. Then it suddenly disappeared.. Her friend’s faces all melding into unthinkable horrors as they twisted and turned before becoming nothing at all.

Another memory faded into existence. This place she could not truly recall. Where was she? She didn’t know. She assumed that she was underground. Within the domain of the Eternal Cities. She remembered that sky. Knew it better than she knew herself at that point.

“Are you certain this is what we have to do?” Asked Arie. He was sitting on a rock under a naturally occurring overhang.

“This is the only way.” Said the Pale One. “If we are to be in control… If we are to liberate our people.. I must free you all from the curse.. Eleonora suggested something I thought was worth looking into.”

“What’s that?” Asked The Raven, turning toward the Violet Bloody Finger.

“My former masters.. The Ancient Dragons. Their God holds power rivaling that of even Queen Marika. If we seek their help.. They may offer a solution.” Eleonora explained

“Are you certain this will work, or are we risking it all on a hunch?” The Raven asked again, eternally wary, as an assassin should be.

“We aren’t certain… But, Raven.. What do we really know? It will be a risk no matter what we do… And I’m willing to bet on this. The dragons may be able to help us.” The other self explained. Soralis could only observe passively. Somehow, witnessing this didn’t bring her any emotions- other than perhaps curiosity. Not monsters.. Not monsters at all. At least back then.

This memory faded as well. It was quickly replaced by another. The huntress did not recall this place either. Fields of dull gold, near the foot of the Erdtree. The walls of a great city calling out to all. Letting them know that should they threaten this city only death awaited them. For this city was pure, divine, and would not be sullied. That was what the walls said.

Soralis watched her body walk through the fields, feeling a warm and gentle wind blow against her face.

Her eyes were set on a figure in the distance. A young woman she seemed. Her hair was white, her eyes of amber. She didn’t move as the Pale One approached. She showed no fear either. The body made some calculations, the huntress knew. This person was not afraid of her, and there was a reason. In truth, she knew that reason well. This person was a dragon, one of the true dragons, with scales of impenetrable stone, wielding flesh-rending lightning.

“Hail, great dragon.” The Pale One spoke.

“Killer… Killer of killers and innocents. Finger of Blood… You of the curse… I had felt that you would come to me..” The woman spoke with silent authority, her voice far deeper than the huntress would have expected. Wise, near ancient. “What do you seek, o’ instrument of death?” She asked, her amber eyes burning with patient fire.

The Pale One bowed. Had she been known to do so? Certainly not. The Pale One bowed to none but her lord. “Your words are true, great dragon. I am naught but death. Naught but blood spilled and blood to be spilled yet…”

“Then for what purpose wouldst thou appear before me, mongrel?” The dragon raged. Soralis felt it too, even as an observer. The threat of being burnt alive, even if the person standing before her appeared so unassuming… So harmless, with her gentle features.

“I am not here to threaten… I am here to beg for your assistance.. O’ Great Lansseax… I come in the stead of Eleonora, your drake-knight. She, too, was consumed by the folly that is the accursed blood, and is thus unable to return to you..” The other self looked up at the dragon, yet saw no pity. Only the threat of fire and destruction. “I seek your assistance… I came here in hope that you, or your great Dragon-Lord would be able to grant us remedy for what plagues us.”

The dragon heaved- yet appeared to be laughing. It was a disturbing sound, like a dry throat forcefully pushing out air, yet the expression of the female appeared joyful.. Amused by her naivete, then. “Insolent cursed one… Thou wouldst seek the favor of the Dragon-Lord so plainly… You should grovel at my feet!” The dragon cried out, red lightning striking nearby.

The other self’s ears rung. Her blood boiled. “I ask nicely, dragon. I come to you on equal terms, and you only mock me?”

Lansseax scoffed, and Soralis could’ve sworn that the air got significantly hotter. “As it is known of your curse, you are reckless beasts. Anger and bloodlust at the ready. Prove to me it is not so.” Said the dragon, bringing forth a bolt of lightning that remained stable in her hands.

This memory, too, faded. Soralis thought of flames and lightning and things eternal… Then came storms, and times of old. A temple… lost in the skies… Endless beasts… Untold power

When she was aware again, the other self appeared to be in another place.

“Farum Azula” She said to herself. “The sanctuary of the ancient dragons…”

Ceaseless winds engulfed this place.. Pieces of rock and ruins were trapped in an eternal whirlwind.

The Pale One looked off the side of the bridge she was on, only to see that she appeared to be somewhere… In the skies.

The clouds obscured the ground below, but this whole structure, this temple of old was held aloft by powerful winds.. By a tornado.

Soralis didn’t know how much time had passed since the Pale One’s arrival. The memories were patchy at this point. After this she saw a dragon fall onto the temple, bleeding profusely.

She felt it before she knew it, but another Bloody Finger was there.

Sena?... It felt like her. And when she came closer, it looked like her, too.

“What are you doing here? Why did you kill that dragon? It might have cost us the plan- Sena, what is this?” The Pale One shouted.

There was no response. The rest of the memory was composed of singular images.

Whoever this person was, it wasn’t Sena. Before the Pale One knew it, this person had stabbed her through the heart.

She was thrown into the storm to be lost forever.

The last thing she remembered seeing was a white mask.

The huntress sighed to herself. What came next was a quite familiar beach in Limgrave.

*
Moonchilde

The knight had already departed for Caelid. He had left Lisevinde back at the Manor to protect the princess. They hadn’t had a chance to talk much since what happened between them, but that was alright. They would meet again soon, and perhaps after this, there would be a sense of normalcy.

Horseriding wasn’t his strong suit, but he was able, still. The journey wouldn’t be too long. A few days at most, with capable allies.

He was wary of them, all of them, even if Blaidd said he could vouch for the one he fought with. Raphael, he called him.

The half-wolf had really taken to him. He rode by him, and spoke to him, to the point where Moonchilde wondered who he’d be talking to during this journey. He had said to himself that it’d be alright, but he already missed the sorceress. He let out a huff.

Two riders rode forward to him, one on each of his sides. Again, he was wary, but they all seemed like decent folk. And-... The princess seemed to at least like Soralis, if not trust her. He was certain that she wouldn’t have sent him on a mission with people she didn’t have some trust or faith in.

“It’s not far now.” Said one of them. The man. Moonchilde thought his name was Eitan.

“What isn’t far?” Asked the knight, glancing sideways at the warrior.

“Stormveil castle. We’ve got friends there. Good friends. I’m certain we could stay there for the night.” The warrior suggested.

“The Castle is Godrick’s domain, is it not?” He asked.

“Yes.” Said the woman on his right side. “It is, or rather was. We have taken it over. Soralis, and another ally of ours killed the Demigod.”

Moonchilde remained silent for a moment. He had passed days with a person powerful enough to defeat a Demigod without taking precautions against her. The huntress hadn’t seemed like a violent individual, but even so.. It was a huge oversight on his part.

“If you say it is safe, I say we stay there, then. Rest will only do us good.” He agreed, but should he trust them so easily? Perhaps not. He could work with them without trusting. He could simply pretend. It wouldn’t be the first time.

*

Only a fool would press on through the whole day. Moonchilde felt quite the urge to be a fool. He felt a redoubled sense of duty toward the Lunar Princess. Perhaps because of what he did with Lisevinde. What he felt, and what he knew to be true. He could never be her consort, not if that entailed love, romance and companionship. He was so certain he’d already found that for himself, yet the idea of Ranni wouldn’t leave his mind. He wondered- why did he torture himself so?

The knight mastered himself. Such thoughts were inane.

“We’ll stay here for the night.” He announced to the others.

They were still in Liurnia, so the swamp was not an ideal place to stay, but they had ascended a patch of steady ground. A low hill that would provide them with a good place to rest. The horses could graze too, as bright green grass grew here.

Stormveil castle’s braziers were visible in the distance. It was another days ride, Moonchilde thought.

“A good call.” Said Eitan as he hopped off of his horse.

The maiden stood close by him. She seemed to be especially caring toward her own… mount. An oddity. A smaller horse- with horns. An interesting beast, Moonchilde thought to himself.

“We should also get to know each other better. If we’re to fight together, I think it’s for the best.” Said the maiden, glancing over him with amber eyes.

The knight nodded. A cunning one she was, he could glean that much.

“I say we do!” Said Blaidd merrily. The half-wolf was not the most cautious companion he’d ever had, of that, Moonchilde was certain.

“I’ve a few stories to share.” Said Raphael, the knight wearing a peculiar set of armor. One that had healed itself after their encounter, just like his does, but its nature appeared to be different. It definitely had nothing to do with glintstone magic. It felt more… Natural… Perhaps primal. It’s make appeared to be of wood, yet it still was as durable as steel, if not even more so.

At that moment, Moonchilde realised that he must have spent too much time looking at the knight’s armor… For… As his eyes glanced to his face… He got a heavy sense of familiarity. He was completely certain he knew him… But where from? Was it imperative that he figured out who Raphael really was first? It didn’t feel that way… He didn’t give him the slightest feeling of danger.. But who was he to him?

“All right.” Said Moonchilde. Luckily there was a plethora of old dead trees upon this hill, many of which had already fallen over. Melina and Eitan were gathering firewood, and had assured him that Melina could keep the place safe… somehow. He chose to believe them.

In the end, he did. He had no choice but to believe them after the maiden set up a barrier around the whole hill. It started off as a visible golden sheet, but slowly disappeared into nothingness.

“I can guarantee that this will warn us of any would be enemies. It will also keep them out for a short time.” The maiden assured him.

Moonchilde only nodded once more.

“Not too talkative, are you?” Melina asked as she knelt by the firewood, working some sort of magic and lighting it up.

He raised a brow at that, but she would never know. Not with a helmet between them.

“I see that caught your eye… What reservations would you have against fire, mage-knight?” She pressed. Moonchilde stilled. Had he paused for too long?

“None at all..” He muttered. He had given something away. He did not know quite what. Would a Carian not still at the sight of one who could call forth flames?

No you idiot, they wouldn’t. They weren’t taught to revere the tree. They weren’t taught to revere its god. They had the stars and the moon, and to them that was enough. They didn’t care if you called forth divine power, flames, stars, or spirits. For all they cared, magic was magic.

The maiden chuckled, Eitan sitting by her. “You’re a terrible liar, friend… But let us say that I won’t mind… You’re thoughtful enough to hide your derision… You either see it as a disadvantage, or as something to be rid of.”

Moonchilde huffed, eyeing Blaidd, wondering whether or not he would speak openly of his life. He seemed eager to do so. Moonchilde only wondered why he would, and why Ranni trusted him so. He appeared… So casual. So comfortable when every word uttered might grant an advantage, or even spell death in some cases.

He decided he’d speak. These people trusted him no more than he trusted them, and perhaps it’d be better if they had a false sense of security. It’d be better if they trusted him a little bit more.

The knight took off his helmet slowly, his jet black hair blending into the night. Blue eyes looked over them all. “Call me Moonchilde..” He said. “I was of Leyndell, but I am no more. The stars called to me, so now I serve my princess with all my being.” He finished, perhaps appearing a touch too gallant.

“That would explain it.” Melina noted. She shared a glance with Eitan before the warrior spoke himself.

“I hail from the Badlands, across the fog. My people warred for a long time… Lost on a journey to find… Direction, perhaps… Until each of them was guided to their purpose. I came here not long ago, searching for mine.” Eitan said pensively, looking into the fire, as if he’d find it there.

“True warriors, every last one of your kind.” Said the half-wolf. “I’ve met many of them over the years… It appears you arrived quite late.”

The warrior nodded. “Me and some allies of mine were separated from the others while embarking on the great voyage.. We got lost… Lost sight of the golden rays that guided us.. But eventually, we found the lands between, yet none of our kinsfolk were present… None… Unchanged.” Eitan gained a serious look, not taking his eyes off the fire. “My allies were all murdered. I thought I, too… Would meet the same fate.. Tarnished, they call us.. Dim… Lost… Forgotten.. It appears that I was given another chance that day.. though I was injured, I didn’t die… Melina was there to save me…”

“Mm.. I ran into that one myself.” Blaidd noted. “While I didn’t manage to kill him, he didn’t manage to kill me, either, and that was that. A vile beast he was.. I wonder if he’s still around today.”

“He is not.” Eitan said, finally raising his eyes. “I killed him with my own hands. The man is dead as he should be. Raphael.. Soralis, and Yura were there.. It took all of us to kill him back then.. Things wouldn’t be the same now..”

“Perhaps we should talk about something else.” Said Melina, bringing a hand to the warrior’s forearm.

So they were more than just allies. Moonchilde thought to himself. He had noticed how they stayed quite close to each other. Closer than one would expect.

“I too am of Leyndell.” Said Raphael, taking the chance to speak. “And.. I remember you, though with a different name.” He continued, looking at Moonchilde. “Geralt, I think. We never truly met. I served under Knight-Commander Serosh, thankfully.”

Moonchilde found it within himself to chuckle. “I didn’t like old man Wyll much either.”

“He is an evil man.” Raphael corrected. Not one just to not like, and the mage-knight agreed with him internally. Old Wyll was quite cruel.. Though, still a tool of Leyndell- a tool of the Erdtree.

“That he is..” Moonchilde echoed, letting the silence hang between them for a few moments before continuing. “So you’re a defector too, huh?”

Raphael only chuckled, not finding anything to say, and that’s how it was until they went to sleep. Silence. Moonchilde supposed that he felt slightly better about his allies. Save for the maiden. No matter how he tried to approach the matter, she always appeared to him as something… Else. He had the feeling that she was planning something.

He thought of Ranni again as he neared sleep. Of what it was she intended to say when he left. There was something… He knew there was.

*

Lisevinde

Caria Manor

The sorceress paced around the empty manor time and time again. She had walked past Ranni’s chambers four hundred and fifty seven times. It was sort of fun at first, counting, but not for long.

“Boring…” She muttered, stopping by a window.

It’d be better with Moonchilde here

She thought to herself.

We could try to make up a new spell. Or maybe- I could teach him more about Carian Blade Sorcery.. Though he hasn’t read the Complete Guide To Sorcerous Swordplay I set on his desk the other day… That’d impede learning…

But Moonchilde didn’t require books. Just showing him how to do it- giving him a feel for it would probably provide better results.

The best results come from studying the material first-

For you.

Lisevinde had acquired a secondary thinking voice lately. She didn’t quite understand where it came from, but it was quite odd. It did however grant her insight in the inner workings of the human mind. She was certain she was fully capable of discerning what anyone was thinking at any given moment.

She could not have been any more mistaken, but at the very least, she thought she was doing well, and that was a good thing.

Four hundred and sixty.

She knocked on Princess Ranni’s door, waiting for a response.

“Come in.” Said the princess, at which point the sorceress walked right on in, staring at her blankly, and waiting for a request.

“Lisevinde-...” The princess started. “I’ve told you this before. You don’t need to check in on me every-...”

“Every five rounds.” She completed Ranni’s statement.

“Yes… Nor do you need to walk around the manor like this. You could even stay here with me if you like, or study magic, as you like to do.” Ranni suggested.

Lisevinde kept her eyes on her, staring intently. “Am I supposed to say no and continue to do as I do?” She asked, genuinely confused. The new thinking voice didn’t come up with any ideas.

“No!” Said Ranni. “You may truly do as you wish. The wards of the Manor are strong. If any problem does arise, you must simply come to my aid.”

“I understand.” She responded. “Is there anything you would like to converse about?”

Magic would be preferable… But perhaps Moonchilde- if she brought up Moonchilde.

Moonchilde did mention that he feels a sense of duty toward the princess. That it was one of the reasons he was uncertain about… Their relationship.

Yes- but that issue is resolved, is it now?

Sure. Said the new thinking voice, and calmed. So easy to deal with.

The princess hummed. She was sitting at her desk, wearing her academy robe. Blue, with a red stripe down the middle, accented with gold thread. Her red hair fell upon her shoulders.

She has not braided it.

Does she have to?

Well… No…

“We could.” The princess said, shooting her a glance. For some reason, Lisevinde felt like it meant something. Did a glance mean anything at all? Why would it? She was just looking at her wasn’t she?

Yes- the transfer of light through the eye. In order to see her, the princess had to point her optics toward her, it was simple really.

A glance doesn’t always just mean a glance. Said the new thinking voice.

What else could it mean?

“It seems like you succeeded with Moonchilde.” The princess stated. The sorceress wondered whether or not sharing information about that happening was inappropriate.

“I did” She responded calmly, though unable to hide her smile. Thinking about him still had an effect, though it was notably different. Happiness, and only a slight sense of anxiety, but not quite. It was… excitement.

“Did it make you happy?” Asked the princess, her eyes lingering perhaps a bit longer than they should.

“It was satisfactory.” Lisevinde said flatly, in complete contrast to her smile a few seconds ago. The princess chuckled to herself.

“Alright.. Satisfactory cannot be bad.” She continued, writing something down in a notebook of hers. Lisevinde could not help but wonder what she could be keeping notes about.
“You may go now, if you wish, Lisevinde. I will call for you if I have need of you.”

The sorceress nodded. They wouldn’t say anything else then. She didn’t mind that.

*

Soralis

Liurnia of the Lakes

Eleonora had awakened. She appeared quite disoriented, but she recognized Soralis.. And it was apparent that she could remember what happened with Yura. As soon as she woke up, the former bloody finger weeped. She weeped as if she had lost her whole life, because perhaps, she had.

Soralis found it within herself to sit by her side, to set a hand over her shoulder, and Eleonora welcomed it. They were friends, the huntress supposed. The memories proved that to be true… And maybe one day she would feel it, too. She would feel like herself again.

Eleonora settled before long, though she still leaned into Soralis’s embrace. “You’ve escaped the Lord’s reach…” She breathed against her neck, to which Soralis nodded.

“I don’t know if I was ever truly affected… I might not make much sense.. My memories are fractured but-..” Soralis sighed. “I think that whatever I did.. I did it trying to release the fingers… Trying to save our people.”

Eleonora hummed in thought, as if there were complications with Soralis’s thought, but it wasn’t completely impossible. “Did you find anything in Farum Azula?...” She asked as she raised her eyes toward her.

“Nothing at all.. I remember convincing Lansseax to take me there… Then- the White Mask was there, too.. He ambushed me.. Flung me off the temple.. Then I woke up in Limgrave.”

Eleonora’s eyes widened. “You remained in that cyclone for three years-... Even for someone made strong by blood- even for someone like you- That should be impossible!”

“I’ve no idea how it happened. It only seems like a moment passed… Looking back.. I awoke without any memories of the past.. They slowly came to me. They still are, now.” Soralis explained.

“It might have to do with the nature of the Ancient Dragons… Their home seems to exceed time itself… To exist beyond it, as do the dragons thanks to their scales.” Said Eleonora

“I have a feeling the dragons are still mortal however.. I am certain the White Mask killed one of them as he arrived.” Soralis continued, going through the memories one by one.

“They are timeless, yet still mortal…” Eleonora answered. Soralis was quite impressed by the fact that she had calmed herself enough to speak of pressing issues… Despite Yura’s passing. “You spoke of the White Mask… A suspicion long held and finally proven to be true, then. None of us trusted him. Not even Nerijus… But it’s no secret that he’s been after your position ever since you were first anointed. He sent us after you as soon as you appeared again, too craven to fight you even in a weakened state.” She continued, her pained eyes laced with a question Soralis knew well was coming. “What of the others?...”

The huntress would not hold back. She would only say the truth for what it was. She still felt wholly responsible, but she knew she wasn’t.. She was special, yes. She was truly not affected by the cessblood… But that didn’t mean that she could avoid fighting against her former friends. Not when they were consumed by madness and rage and blood. Not while they were truly trying to kill her.

“I had to kill them. Nerijus was killed by an ally of mine after I weakened him… Sena as well.. I must admit that back then I did not really remember who they were… Even Arie.. The Raven… I did not remember him at all… I did not feel remorse for their deaths because I saw them as monsters… Chasing me down for no real reason… And maybe that was the truth for me back then.. Only when I started to regain my memories did I realize who they truly were, who they used to be… I wish I could’ve known.. I wish I were stronger back then so I could have cleansed them of the curse..”

“As Yura did..” Eleonora cut in. “Was that you?... Guiding him? I can… Vaguely remember feeling your presence nearby. So you’ve found the answer, only within you.. Within the blood held by you..” She chuckled to herself. “After we all suffered so much… It was always right there…”

Soralis couldn’t help but feel responsible once more. “If only I had found it back then… We would’ve all been saved, or at least stood a chance at gaining our freedom..”

“Don’t blame yourself.” Said Eleonora. “No one could have taught you… And it may be a remedy, even now… We could still use it..”

“Use it how? Everyone we trusted is gone… Certain fingers… would be more dangerous with free will than they would as crazed killers.” Soralis reasoned, standing up as Eleonora made a move as well.

“There is one person. He has recently voiced his discontentment… You must remember him… Okina, the Demon.” She said, keeping her palm up as if to summon her bloodflame. Small sparks popped out, yet no actual flame was produced.

“I remember Okina, indeed.” Soralis concurred. “One of the most lethal fingers… You say he may be utilized?”

“Yes… He voiced his admiration for you in leaving us.. Of course, none of us knew that you hadn’t exactly.. Left.”

“Then how do we find him? The Lands Between are vast- and returning to Mohgwyn Palace does not sound like a wise course of action. There are other fingers, albeit weaker than the ones that are already dead, but it would be unwise indeed… I do not doubt that the White Mask has already planned something for my arrival.”

“He definitely has, though I cannot speak on what it is.. He only spoke to a select few. Those of us who were close to you were always treated as lessers… And I suppose there was wisdom in his actions.. Here I am, free of the curse, able to tell you anything you wish to know. Though you’ll find that I do not in fact know much.” The former finger said regrettably. “I suppose.. I do know how we can find the Demon. He always allows himself to be seen, and felt through the Blood Realm. Should you look for him there, he will appear… But I will warn you.. He is of an odd sort. He wishes to be defeated in combat before he decides to follow anyone.”

“This knowledge is more than enough.. You need not know more..” The huntress smiled. She did not like killing, no. But a fight like that could be enjoyable. It certainly could.

“I’m assuming you’re looking forward to it..” Eleonora smiled as well. “You haven’t changed… It was nice to wipe that smile off your face though, back when we would spar. You always were bad at reading through my attacks.”

“A double bladed weapon isn’t fair.” Soralis noted, pointing a finger at her.

“You just have a lot to learn, young finger.” Eleonora retorted. A pause. They both laughed heartily at each other’s words, pointing at and patting on each other.

“You two make an awful lot of noise! If you’re both well enough to laugh like that you’re well enough to help with cooking!” Kale cried out from where his cooking pots lay.

“Alright, alright old man! I still haven’t thanked you for helping me out!” The former finger yelled back.

“I didn’t do it for you, but any thanks would be welcome! I take payment in runes and favors!”

Somehow, Soralis could feel that Eleonora’s willingness to somehow thank Kale had completely disappeared. It could’ve been because the merchant did not appear to be joking about her payment.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to pay him. If he’s not joking… I’ll make sure he is if he says something like that again.” Soralis said to her, gaining a smile from her.

*

The huntress couldn’t remember hunting for an animal like this. She was a huntress, but a huntress of fingers, not boars.
“Give me that bow…” Said the drake-knight, eyeing her from the side. “You still hold bows like a child…” She remarked.

“Well- I’d bet you still hold swords like a child.” Soralis retorted as she gave the bow to her. It was true. She had never, ever used one before, and the main reason why was her complete ineptitude. It was as if whenever she held one, her brain forgot what it was like handling any sort of matter.

They hadn’t ventured far from the camp. A forest lay ahead, in the direction opposite the academy. It rose over a great hill, colorful trees sprouting here and there, taking after the magical essence of the land.

“...That’s too far away.” Eleonora noted. She looked around for a while, then stopped as she noticed something. Something Soralis couldn’t quite see yet.

She was looking in the direction of the swamp. This could not be good news.

“What is it?” Soralis asked.

“Lunch” Said Eleonora as she walked in that direction at a steady pace.

“Lunch- what? Are you saying we should eat air? Because there’s clearly nothing there.”

Eleonora brought a finger to her mouth and shushed Soralis, at which the huntress furrowed her brows.

They had walked over to an odd looking mud mound surrounded by water.

“Alright then- is this lunch?” Soralis said as she pointed at it.

“Yes.” Eleonora snapped. “This is lunch. My gods you’re impatient… Now get me one of your piercers.”

“Since when am I your underling?” The huntress drawled, still doing Eleonora’s bidding however. The blade manifested itself in her hand, that comfortable warmth that emanated against her skin feeling awfully soothing. “Here, oh great lady”

“Alright I’m already sick of this.” She said as she angled the sword downward, toward the mound. “Oh- prepare to… Run in various directions.” Eleonora finished as she thrust the piercer into the mount.

“What on earth do you mean-” Said Soralis, the sound of her voice completely drowned out by the onslaught of shrieking that ensued. Tentacles ruptured from the mound, accompanying the ceaseless shrieking. Eleonora was already running away.

“How is THIS lunch?” Soralis yelled at her as she ran in the same direction.

“You’ll see!” Eleonora yelled back, Soralis’s sword. “Go on, distract it! I’ll get you your lunch!”
“Why do I have to distract it?” The huntress teased, doing as Eleonora suggested after a single moment. The drake-knight chuckled.

Running back toward the beast that emerged felt like suicide. It was equipped with countless tentacles and a large bird-like beak. The rest of the body appeared to be a large blob. Various small growths lay on its back.

Whatever this thing was, it shrieked as it barrelled on toward her. It moved recklessly, and attacked without thought. Well- the only thought in its mind must’ve been to catch and eat her, what with how ravenously it bit at her whenever she was close enough.

“Is this distracting enough??” Soralis shouted, hoping Eleonora would hear her.

“Yes! You can scare it away now!” She heard the drake-knight’s voice, as if it were far away, due to the noise the beast produced.

She didn’t need more of a reason to scare this nuisance away, and so she did, by summoning a sheet of explosive bloodflame right in front of it. The beast shrieked once more as it instantly moved back, acting as if the heat itself might kill it, scurrying back into its hole, and burrowing itself with mud.

“Okay so what’s lunch?” Said Soralis as she looked back at the drake-knight, seeing her carry two bulbous writhing masses.

“It’s babies!” She responded with a purposely evil grin, holding the smaller octopus creatures up by their beaks.

The huntress could vaguely recall eating one of those. They sure tasted good… But something didn’t feel quite right about it. “I suppose Kale will be pleased with this, even though its not meat”

“But it is meat!” Eleonora corrected. “Just a different kind”

One of the tentacled creatures tried to reach for Soralis. Trying to gain some footing perhaps- or just moving aimlessly. If it was asking for help, it definitely had the wrong impression, since when Soralis decided something was food… It was over for it (and its whole family).

*

They returned to Kale before long. Eleonora plopped the creatures next to his cooking gear. Both of them looked at him with expectant smiles as the creatures writhed, slowly moving away from the heat of the cooking pot.

“What are those?” Kale asked, pointing at them.

“Uhm..” Soralis started, genuinely having no idea what these creatures were called.

“Land Octopi!” Said Eleonora.

“I know that” Said the merchant. “Where’s the wild boar? Heck- deer even!”

They glanced at each other momentarily. Soralis spoke. “We didn’t want to venture too far, so we thought that this would be acceptable.”

The merchant switched glances between them. “It will be.. I can work with this, even though I’d prepared for boar. We’ll see how this goes.”

Eleonora smiled brightly at Soralis. She supposed… They were friends after all.

*

Eitan

Stormveil Castle Outskirts

It was quite a feeling returning here. Thoughts of the Omen who had so easily unmade Melina plagued his mind. He wondered if Melina was going through the same thing. All it took was a glance into her eyes- to find that she was staring into oblivion to realize that she was indeed.

The beast would no longer be a threat however. All of them were stronger than they used to be… Eitan much more so. He was a fool to believe that the Queen’s great rune wouldn’t make a difference. He could see magic now. Easily, as readily as he could see his own hands. He could, but it was extremely tiring if he kept it up for a long while.

He noted that Raphael naturally had an immense amount of it. Melina did too, and perhaps her the strength of her magic was alarmingly high, but the first thing he noticed was her beauty. The gold in her hands, coursing through a system whose heart lay within her chest.

The most worrying thing he’d seen was Moonchilde, specifically his eyes. Within them lay an unknowable power… Be it simply an ability or his source of strength, it was something to look out for.. Both to rely on, and to fear, should he ever become their enemy.

“The castle looks guarded… Well defended” Blaidd noted.

“We brought in our own forces when we took it over.” Raphael explained. “Some of the tyrant’s soldiers joined us. So did his son.”

“His son? I never knew he had a son.” Moonchilde whirled toward them in alarm.

“Sure did. The Grafted Knight. He was known as such before he turned on the demigod. He’d terrorized Limgrave during his time under him.” The knight continued.

“Did he face punishment for his crimes?” Moonchilde questioned, his wariness clearly visible in his eyes.
“No.” Said Melina, shifting on her saddle. “He was a valuable ally. He did what he did under his father’s command, same as many of his soldiers. Should he prove to be dangerous, we will personally take him down.”

Eitan couldn’t help but admire her certainty. They would put him down. It wasn’t even a matter of whether they could do it. They just would, and everything be damned.

“But for now.. He’s still an ally. A friend.” She finished.

“Sounds dangerous.” Said Moonchilde, those deep blue eyes of his set over the walls of the castle. He was thinking of something. Perhaps he was afraid of being by the same hearth as Lesta. If Eitan hadn’t gotten to know him for who he is, he’d be afraid too. As he was back at the Weeping Peninsula.

“He can be.” Raphael agreed. “But not to whoever comes in peace. If I understood his intentions well.. He only wishes for peace now… Should war come for him, it’ll be with those deserving.”

The mage-knight remained quiet. “I shall meet him and decide.” He said

“I find that a good way to know someone is to fight alongside them.. Or against them.” The half-wolf cut in, his voice even. His eyes glancing upward as he set a finger in front of his snout in thought. Eitan thought he was reminiscing about past battles.

“That may be a good idea.” Moonchilde nodded to himself.

Eitan couldn’t disagree. Of course, in any other situation a fight like that would be unwanted, but… He couldn’t imagine Lesta backing down from one. If anything, the Grafted Knight would welcome it. He’d probably like Moonchilde even more because of it.

*

Lisevinde

Caria Manor

She was in the courtyard, laying on the grass. The sun was still up as it was mid-evening. Cyan blinking fireflies buzzed by, their light barely visible. Oh how beautiful they’d look in the pitch black of the night. Like moving stars, illuminating the sky.

The rays of the setting sun fell across her face, over one eye. The wind blew through the courtyard, rocking the leaves into a graceful dance, making them sing their soothing song. Some of them fell, and some of them held on. The ones that would fall still held a particular beauty- even in death, as one side of them was colored a reflective green, shining every other turn as they descended upon the earth.

It wasn’t often that Lisevinde did this. That she took a break from work and studying. That she just enjoyed life for what it was. A mass of experiences; both good and bad. That which comprised a person.

She felt as if… A whole other world had opened up for her. As if she’d seen the truth, beyond the logical mysteries of this world. This truth held as much- or even more importance than the study of magic- or the study of reality. It was the basis upon which.. Perhaps not all beings- but at least feeling beings lived. Happiness. Happiness based on nothing else other than a desire to be happy. A desire to do the things one loves.

Lisevinde brought up a hand as a few reflective leaves fell down, guided by the wind toward her. She moved without knowing why. Perhaps to touch them- Maybe to get a hold of one of them. She didn’t know. All that mattered was that she wanted to do it, and that was fine.

The leaves fell upon her- and she didn’t even manage to catch one of them as they fell. She didn’t put much effort into the movement. It was slow and clumsy, but she tried, and failed.

She picked one up off of her face, grateful even for the fact that this could happen. She traced her fingers over both sides. The reflective one was smooth- like glass. Magic was beautiful.. Nature was beautiful.. Life was beautiful… Perhaps she should find a way to describe this sort of emotion… Which word would fit it? Could one word simply explain such a complex thing? She was calm, pleasantly enjoying everything around her.. She felt rush of acceptance toward all things… Gratefulness for reality. She did not know which word would be fitting for this, if any were at all. Playing with the leaf in her hand, she looked up at the evening sky. At the interlacing colours, coming together, merging to form something that could only be enjoyed by her and her alone.

Those vibrant hues of orange, light blue, and in certain places purple, quite fascinated her. A part of her did want to look further into why and how this happened, and another just wanted to enjoy it.

I do know why this happens.

She thought to herself, smiling. Indeed she did.

She could stay here forever… And somehow that didn’t sound like a bad idea. If she had Moonchilde by her, she could share these thoughts with him. See what he thought about the reflective leaves. He should think them pretty, too.

And he’d know how to call this feeling, probably.

Probably, yeah.

*

Soralis

Liurnia of The Lakes
Kale had made too much of a fuss for something that didn’t end up being a problem. The land octopi were incredibly tasty. The merchant spoke of their aquatic brethren and about how their flesh was usually chewy, but that was not the case with these ones. Their flesh was tender, and due to the way he had prepared it, it pulled apart with little effort, then melted in one’s mouth in a satisfying combination of its own juices and Kale’s spices.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been this happy.” Said Eleonora in between bites. She had taken to the tentacles, which were more of a snack. Kale had made them crispy and seasoned them well. They were too small to properly cook like a slice of meat.

“You’ll be happier when you try the meat. I’m sure of it!” Said Soralis, eating slice after slice of it.

“Well, maybe. If you leave any.” Said the merchant, having filled his plate with his own serving. “So what’s the plan now, Soralis? Where are we headed?”

The huntress stilled for a moment, keeping her eyes on him pensively. He noticed her look, knew what it meant, and met it with his determination. She sighed to herself. “I can feel the presence of another bloody finger. One that may potentially join us. He’s powerful… Dangerous.. This is a venture that could kill-”

“I’ll stop you right there. All I need to know is where you’re going. I will help you no matter what…” Said Kale, his eyes angled downward. “You’re a fool if you think keeping me away is better. If you think that keeping anyone away is better than accepting their help, no matter the odds.” m

Soralis didn’t say anything else in opposition to him. “Alright…We’re headed for the mountaintop of the giants.”

The merchant’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah.. I see. That place…” He finished with derision.

“What’s that?... Is there something wrong with it?” She asked, glancing between him and Eleonora.

“Many things.. I believe the merchant is referring to the massacre of the giants however.. That place is a graveyard.. For those who were there in the past, and those who would choose to venture there in the future.”

“Queen Marika… And her Golden Order… So certain of their purity, would commit countless atrocities in the name of absolute order.” Kale spat, his eyes lost. With a huff, he returned to eating.

“Your hate is not a surprise, merchant… I feel that way, too. One person decides what you are, and then you must live with that your whole life… Or be culled as vermin. How people could stand for that is beyond me…” Said Eleonora, setting some slices of meat on her plate. “Though, we do not venture to the mountaintop to look back on the history. We will only procure our ally and return.”

“And what after that?” He asked again, finishing his food.

“After that… Only the p-... Only Soralis truly knows… We will devise a plan, but I do not know if I can be of help with most of my power gone…” Eleonora admitted.

“After that, we’ll go to Mohgwyn palace… It is what I would do… Every day I feel more strongly for people I did not even initially recognize.. But I am who I was, and I was who I am.. I must help these people, both out of obligation, and because I truly want to.. My home has fallen into obscurity… Into torture.. I do not want for my people to wane, and as such, I will not let them.” The huntress said with absolute focus.. Before placing another piece of meat in her mouth, squealing at how good it tasted.

Chapter Text

Eitan

Stormveil Castle

Eitan hadn’t realized quite how serious Moonchilde was about this. He asked to spar with the Grafted Knight as soon as they were received by Lord Haight. That was something that the Lord was delighted to hear, no doubt because he wanted Lesta out of here. He would most likely be praying for the knight’s death at the hands of Moonchilde.

So- it didn’t take long for the hulking warrior to be called to the front courtyard. He was never one to back down from a challenge, if anything he sought them out himself. Eitan had almost forgotten the fear this man had made him feel when he hunted after him, but seeing that greathelm with the design of four grafted arms on top, clasping each other- that giant wolf-skin cloak, and his warhorse of course, Storm, who nearly ran people over as he simply walked. The beast looked calmer, as did its master, but Eitan wouldn’t trust it not to eat his hand if he were to give it food.

“Who is it that wishes to challenge me?” Lesta shouted as he approached, pulling Storm’s reins back to have the horse stop.

Moonchilde stepped forward, unsheathing his magic-imbued blade. Moonsilver it was called. Just by looking at it, Eitan could tell that it cost a fortune, and also that it was no mere blade. This sword was dangerous, even in the wrong hands. In the hands of someone who knew how to wield it though.. It could be much more than deadly.

“It is I.” The mage-knight spoke loudly, angling the sword forward. “I request to spend the night within your walls. But despite it being a time of need for me and my company… I must come to trust you. What better way to do that than to cross our swords?”

For a moment, Eitan wondered whether or not Moonchilde even intended to win. Of course, he knew nothing of the mage-knights abilities, but Lesta was no pushover.

The Grafted Knight laughed heartily. Eitan and Melina both seemed surprised at that. He had been known to laugh, but not like this. Perhaps a chuckle during the time they’d known him for. Maybe the death of his tyrant of a father had softened him further.

“A reasonable request, knight. What be your name?” He continued.

“Moonchilde, of the Carians.” He stated proudly. Blaidd stood by him, maybe to show a united front as a house? Eitan knew not.

“Very well then, Moonchilde. Let us fight it out.” Said Lesta, sending Storm away. Most of the soldiers the horse walked toward, scuttled away terrified.

The Grafted Knight pushed the wolf-skin cloak off his shoulders, revealing his two additional sets of arms. “Fight me as you would if you were intending to live another day. Should you near death, I will stop.”

“Will you not ask for the same courtesy?” Asked Moonchilde. Of course- what Lesta had just said, sounded like the mage-knight had no chance of winning.

Lesta chuckled. “Of course.”

Eitan watched as the two fighters walked to the middle of the courtyard. Kenneth Haight sat on a chair that was hastily arranged for him on one side of it. A hooded figure sat next to him. Eitan could swear that whoever that was, they had been keeping an eye on him.

“Be wary..” Melina warned. “Could be a bodyguard, or an assassin.”

“That’s what I thought as well..” He muttered to her, moving further into the courtyard, Raphael and Blaidd close behind him, and sitting by a row of tables that had been set up before they even left, prepared for the celebrations for the defeat of Godrick.

“Begin!” The Lord cried out. Apparently he hadn’t yet allowed Lesta to inherit the Castle as was his birthright, on the grounds that he was an illegitimate son, claiming that a more suitable heir should be found.. Surprisingly enough, he did not volunteer himself.

A group of soldiers happened to be conversing about it quietly, sitting at the table right next to Eitan and the others.

“Are you ready, boy?” Lesta shouted as he unsheathed the two greatswords set along his back with his upper arms, and then the smaller curved blades that were sheathed on his sides with his grafted arms.

Moonchilde stilled momentarily. Eitan remembered how it felt to fight against this man once more. The memory wasn’t pleasant.

The mage-knight didn’t move first. He was all too aware of what someone with four arms and four blades might do against a normal human.. And he was right to be so. There couldn’t be an attack that didn’t expose him to danger, and wouldn’t bring certain death.
“Show me why I should ask you to spare me, Moonchilde. Show me something I should fear!” The Grafted Knight yelled at him as he started moving forward. Storm whinnied, that sound bringing otherworldly creatures to mind, perhaps urging its master on.

Swipe after swipe of the greatswords flowed, the curved blades below them allowing no reprieve, slashing as well whenever Moonchilde didn’t step far away enough.

It appeared as if the mage-knight gave up on a sword fight, as he unlatched his staff from his belt, the silver-forged weapon glinting in the sunlight, light blue light refracting in the glintstone crystal at its apex.

“Magic, eh? That won’t make any difference.” Lesta warned, stepping forward to close the distance, slamming his greatswords down on Moonchilde.

The mage-knight dodged with an elegant whirl before casting a glintstone comet with unthinkable ease, as if he were simply pointing at the knight.

Lesta only chuckled at him as his curved blades moved, turning the comet into shards with two effortless slashes. “You’ll have to do better than that.” He urged.

Moonchilde didn't move from his position as he spoke. “You talk too much, and do too little.”

“I hate that spell..” Raphael muttered as the grafted-knight raged, advancing in a flurry of strikes that were all dodged, as if taking one of them on would obliterate the mage-knight, which had to be true, Eitan thought.

“It’s the one the red wolf used against you, isn’t it?” Melina noted.

Raphael gave a gentle nod as he watched the fight.

The Grafted Knight’s face was hidden behind his helmet, but Eitan knew that he wore a wild grin behind it, having the time of his life.

“If you want to see more, do more.” Lesta retorted, as he stepped forward once more. A slash wouldn’t work. Couldn’t work. It hadn’t worked for this long, what would change this time?

Moonchilde expected a slash, so he moved preemptively, gently stepping backward.

Lesta however, did not slash at him. Or rather he did- but did not truly intend for the slash to threaten the mage-knight. It’s true purpose was to hide his footsteps, which it did quite well, as Lesta had for once, reached Moonchilde.

The mage-knight’s eyes widened as he once again tried to escape. Due to his nimble footwork, he would’ve, had Lesta not thrown his greatsword at him, forcing him to cast some form of magic, but none could see what he did in the end as a cloud of dust and shattered glintstone covered the area.

 

Some of the soldiers cried out in victory as their Lord had defeated the outsider. Others weren’t quite so happy, Lord Haight among them.

“He has not yet died.” Said Lesta, silencing his soldiers.

As the cloud of dust settled, Moonchilde appeared standing, holding both of his weapons, the greatsword lodged in the ground behind him.

“Show me more, Moonchilde! I knew you could Live!” Lesta raged

The mage-knight replied with a lethal calm. “You couldn’t have known that.”

“I could see it in the way you moved.. The very fact that you challenged me, even after seeing me.” The Grafted Knight yelled at him, laughing.

“You’re mad.” Moonchilde said as he thrust his staff forward, shooting out crags of ice toward the knight.

Lesta simply slashed through them with his greatsword, held with both hands. “You seem reluctant to lock blades with me.” He noted. “Come and fight, or I’ll come to you myself.”

“I don’t intend to die just yet. I’m no fool.” He retorted, casting comet after comet, forcing the knight to fight defensively, deflecting. But Lesta didn’t just stand still. He moved toward him, toward his other blade, until he simply picked it up, deflecting Moonchilde’s magic with his three blades.

“You say you’re no fool but you give away the only advantage you had… Moonchilde… I have restrained myself enough..” Lesta said, bringing both greatswords to his side. He appeared to be doing nothing, but all of a sudden, a strong wind kicked up. A moment later the Grafted Knight was upon Moonchilde, moving with unattainable speed.

The only thing the mage-knight could do was shield his face with his arms, as an untrained civilian would do. It was quite unbecoming of a knight.

Despite his promise concerning not killing him, Lesta slashed through him with both blades, only for them to pass clean through him, dealing no damage to him, or his armor. Simply passing through as if he were incorporeal.

“Interesting…” Said the Grafted Knight. “Do you accept defeat, or shall I figure out how this trick of yours works?”

The mage-knight grew silent, but after a moment of contemplation he settled for one of these options. “I’ll accept defeat.” He spoke clearly, sheathing his blade and latching his staff on his belt. “Well fought.” He said as he extended his hand toward the towering warrior.

Lesta took his helmet off, his gentle face a complete contrast to his deep voice and demeanor, before extending his hand as well and shaking. “Well fought.” He mirrored. “It was an enjoyable bout.”

Eitan glanced at Melina, whose eyes told him he needed to be worried about something. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

She only nodded toward Kenneth Haight. “The person next to him. They’re gone.”

And so it was. That figure that had been watching him was nowhere to be seen. It could be nothing, but it should be looked into. Back at the academy, Soralis had told him how little she trusted Kenneth Haight, and it wouldn’t be bad to be careful.

Before he could get up to greet Lesta with the others, a hand lay on his neck. “We need to talk.” A feminine voice spoke. The warrior felt everything go cold as the hand retreated.

Melina had gathered magic at her fingertips, but when the warrior turned around and beheld the figure, set his hand on hers, urging her to stand down.

“Nepheli?...” He muttered in disbelief, to which the hooded woman smiled.

“Yes brother… It’s me.”

Eitan couldn’t believe it. She had changed- grown up. His long lost sister. He thought her dead as they had been separated during their voyage, even before he got lost.

The warrior pulled her close, bringing his arms around her. Nepheli hugged him back as she spoke.

 

“You’ve found powerful allies, it seems.” She eyed Melina

*

They decided to have lunch with Nepheli. Just her, Eitan, and Melina. Lord Haight happily gave them a room, and arranged for them to have food, with no shortage of questions about whether or not Eitan and Melina would stay to help him establish a proper capital in Limgrave.

Melina answered him quite eloquently, saying something about matters that needed to be attended, and matters greater than any capital in the lands between. The Lord left, clearly unsatisfied, but too wary of their future usefulness to make it clear.

“So what led to you working with Lord Haight?” Asked Eitan, still scarcely believing that he had found her.

“He speaks of a noble cause… Uniting the people of this land..” She appeared to think momentarily, sitting cross legged on her chair, as she was used to. They had no chairs where they came from- or forts or hovels. Only the ground. “He thinks me to be royalty… When I told him who our father is, he suggested I rule Limgrave, as a true descendant of the order.. Spoke of father as one would speak of a god… Calling him Godfrey.”

“The first Elden Lord..” Melina muttered. “Your father does sound strong enough to bear that name.. Has he never told you of his life in the lands between?” She asked the siblings, glancing between them.

Nepheli shifted, crossing her arms, a warrior’s confidence showing in that stance. “No. We simply know he has lived here, and perhaps fought… But we know nothing of our father’s past. He didn’t speak of it.. Even if we asked.. It was the same for the rest of his warband.. As if they’d sworn a vow of silence.”

“Wait..” The maiden started, bringing a finger to poke against her forehead, those amber eyes of hers lost in thought. “Weren’t you a part of that warband? Hadn’t you travelled here with the others?”

Eitan shook his head, but it was Nepheli who spoke. “We were both born in the Badlands… Our parents were killed by bandits… They were valiant fighters, but even the worthiest fighters may be defeated by a cunning enough villain…”

“Our father.. Hoarah Loux.. He took us in as toddlers.. Taught us to fight and survive.” Eitan continued. “We would be dead if not for him… He sought us.. Knowing our parents had children.. He led his warband and wiped their killers off the land…”

Melina nodded in understanding. Eitan couldn’t recall telling anyone his story in such detail before. Holding back-... Felt like second nature to him. Perhaps he’d gotten it from his father… Keeping the past buried.

“Nepheli and Eitan Loux… We took after him. It was the warband that called us his true children, but he never once denied it.. He may have not come back for me when I got lost during the voyage… But I know it in my bones that he did it out of certainty for my survival.”

Eitan nodded as Nepheli spoke. He was certain it was the same for his case too. They weren’t nearly as strong as him, but he had trained them well. They wouldn’t have died, despite how hostile the land was.

“I wonder why Haight thinks your father is the First Elden Lord, though..” Melina asked, looking at Eitan as she set her chin on her palm, angling her head.

The warrior shrugged, but Nepheli seemed to hold insight on that, too. She spoke quietly.

“He says he has an informant… A man who sees all, hears all, and knows all.. Says that our father is here to claim the Elden Throne, guided by grace. Guided by his former wife… Queen Marika.”

Melina’s eyes suddenly turned to Nepheli at the mention of the queen. Eitan noticed her shifting uncomfortably. Something she thought of perhaps?

“Do you see it?...” Eitan asked his sister. “This guidance of grace?”

Nepheli shook her head. “No.. And I never have.. I found my way back myself, even though it took quite some time.”

A servant walked in. A young man. He appeared to be quite confused about the logistics of where he’d place the platters he’d brought, filled to the brim with food. Various types of fruit in one, and bread, as well as roasted boar in the other.

Nepheli stood up to take the platters from his hands, making the servant pale. “But no- my lady- this would be unbecoming of-”

“It is alright.” She assured. “I can hold a plate for a few seconds without the world collapsing, can I not? Just don’t tell Lord Haight, I suppose, and your skin is safe.”

The servant smiled at her with a stupid face. She waved him off. “These people act like imbeciles for a man with such little strength..” She noted as she brought the platters down to the others.

“It can be this way here.. People can hold power through knowledge and influence instead of just strength… Wisdom… Can be a qualifying quality.” Eitan explained.

“I have seen the leaders of the bandits in the Badlands.. They were never wise.. Sometimes they were strong, but more often than not, they were cunning.. And vile. The more brutal one was, the more likely they were to be the leader… It is interesting, how different people find different reasons to follow someone… Yet, it is still foolish.. A crown is warranted by strength.” Said Nepheli, sounding exactly like their father. He did speak of wisdom and knowledge, he did consider them to be important, but first and foremost, a leader should have strength. They should be a warrior, and if they deigned to send warriors to their potential deaths without knowing what that meant, they were not fit to lead. A leader should fight and die just as their soldiers would; simply because they’re no different from one. They are no more, and no less.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Asked the newly appointed warrior-princess, glaring at Eitan through crossed arms as she chewed on a grape.

He had been staring at her, smiling for quite some time as he thought of their father.

Melina chuckled at him, resorting to simply picking out a fruit from the platter instead of saying anything else.

“What? Can I not simply admire how my sister has grown up to be a smaller version of our father?” He suggested, which the warrior-princess took as the greatest of compliments.

“Hmm… Perhaps smaller in stature, yes.” She started, keeping an eye open and trained on him, expecting more.

“But just as wise, and almost as strong.” Eitan finished.
“Soon to be stronger.” Nepheli stated, smiling slightly.

The warrior chuckled at her, her smile widening into a grin, before he asked.

“So you’re staying in Limgrave?”

“Are you not?” Said she, gaining a more serious expression once more. “I thought you came here to stay.”

“No… We’ve got plans.. We’ve set out for the same journey father is said to be on.. Not specifically claiming the throne… I’ve no interest in leading.. But putting the world to rights..” He said, glancing at Melina, who nodded along contentedly.

“I see.” Nepheli said. She didn’t appear to show sadness at the fact that her brother would depart. She only remained serious, and perhaps a bit solemn, though only a bit. “I’ll leave the adventuring to you, then… Limgrave being safe would no doubt help you in your ventures…” The warrior-princess suddenly stood up, picking another grape and walking off.

“What…” Said Melina, looking at the door she walked out of.

“Don’t question it. That’s just Nepheli. She’s probably off to do just what she said she would… She’s going to keep Limgrave safe.” The warrior explained.

Melina nodded along, keeping her eyes low. “That’ll certainly be helpful… A place to return to, should we need to.” She avoided his gaze as he spoke.

He would’ve let it slide if they were on the road, but… They could talk now. They had time. They had a night to relax. “Melina.. Is something wrong?” He found himself saying, seeing something like guilt in her eyes.

“You can tell me..” He muttered to her, setting a hand on hers.

“Eitan… I shouldn’t have kept this for so long..” She said quietly.

“You’re scaring me-... What is it, Melina?” He said again, angling his head to look at her.

“Queen Marika… She’s my mother, Eitan..” She said finally, staring him in the eyes.

Eitan blanked. That meant Melina was… A demigod, too..

*

Soralis

Abandoned Mines

The journey for the mountaintop had begun, and with it came many memories of the Lord of Blood Soralis couldn’t recall before. One of them stood out, where she stood guard by his throne. He spoke to her, and it seemed like it was a common occurrence.

‘I dream of a dynasty…’ The demigod had said. ‘Where none will suffer… Where all the unwanted may go to find refuge… Away from my birth-mother’s wrath.’

Queen Marika… It seemed like that woman brought hate and division wherever she went. Soralis would never forgive her, she would never forget the crimes of the goddess.. If she had any will to go on after saving her people.. She would go after her next.

Her memories didn’t include what she responded to the demigod with, but whatever it was, he chuckled.

‘We may see a real night sky… Soon..’ He said as he lifted a finger, opening a portal above Soralis, through which she looked. The moon and stars. The real moon and stars. ‘This is what we’re denied here.. What I was denied where I was forced to grow up… In the filth and decay… But one day, my child… I hope I can provide a real home for you.. For your people..’

She didn’t remember him like that. Not in any other memories.. It didn’t last long.. Mohg couldn’t have been.. Good. After that came the brooding… Remaining idle for months, standing by some… corpse of a demigod, trying to revive it. No… That wasn’t the Lord of Blood anymore.. Did everyone just assume that he had gone mad? He could have, he definitely could have.. But the times they spoke.. The wisdom Soralis remembered.. It all contradicted.

“Do you distract yourself, sister?” Asked Eleonora from beside her.. She was riding Spot. The horse had somehow found her, and its sister, Fiend, who appeared to be a lot more willing to let Soralis ride on her back now.

“Sorry…” She muttered. “Just bad thoughts.”

Eleonora nodded, scratching along Spot’s mane. The mare leaned in to the drake-knight’s touch, content.

“He was quite fond of this one.” Soralis said as they rode on.

“I could tell… It looks like he brushed her mane regularly, too… He’d do this.. You know, he always treated his horses well.” A shadow washed over Eleonora’s eyes as she reminisced perhaps, but it didn’t stay there for long. She was determined. Soralis always knew her to be like this.

Mineshafts loomed over their heads, decrepit wooden structures once used to harvest the bounty of this land threatening to fall upon them at any moment. “He took this path…” Soralis noted.

Eleonora sighed as she jumped off of Spot’s back. She could sense it too.. Despite the cleansing the other self had done to her blood, Eleonora had retained some of her power, and it was growing rapidly, approaching the level she had prior to her mind being freed.

If only Soralis were there, she could’ve saved him. If only she knew how to do this when it really mattered.

*

There had been a slaughter here. Bandits, miners and travelers lay dead.. Brutalized. The scent was a mix of their blood, and Yura’s. He had definitely begun to lose himself before coming here, ever since the huntress lost consciousness.. He had become a finger, one like the rest of them. A creature that killed without mercy, that could only gain momentary relief from inflicting pain on others- draining them of their blood so that the affliction coursing through theirs might ease.

It didn’t feel good to either of the former bloody fingers however, as they walked through this cave. A reminder of what they once were. What they used to be, and what they were forced to do for the sake of their people… Lest the white mask satisfy his bloodlust by killing them one by one.

The Lord of Blood Soralis had known would not condone that… And that must’ve been the only thing holding Varre back from truly killing the people of Nokron, culling them just to get back at her.

“Keep them at bay. The thoughts, sister. They will only cloud your mind… Steel it. Master yourself.” Said Eleonora, as if following some form of mantra. As if she were saying it to herself, as well.

“So much carnage..” Soralis muttered. “So much blood… I thought I’d be used to it.. But the more I remember of my past, the less I can stomach it…”

Eleonora smiled at her. “The Soralis I knew could was sick of it by the time she left… It was partly the reason, I believe.. She no longer- you.. No longer wanted to be a tool.. A weapon..”

“But this..” Eleonora continued. “Is nothing compared to what any of us has done… We were monsters… But not because we chose to be. And that is all that matters.” She finished as she urged the huntress forward, setting a hand on her back. “Let us go… It will not be long now.”

*

Lisevinde

Caria Manor

The princess’s seals had been breached. It had just taken a single moment. Lisevinde did not know why, or how it happened, but it did, and she hoped that it was just a mistake on her part. Perhaps she forgot to keep the magic stable, and every single protective layer the princess had taken days forging had simply worn off, just like that.

No. That is stupid. Princess Ranni is anything but that. Something dangerous is underway. You must be prepared for combat. For death. Ready your staff, you fool. Unlatch it, pick it up. Prepare yourself.

“I am!” Lisevinde cried out, accidentally speaking out loud in her panic. The princess had not called for her yet, and that was the most worrying part of this situation.

It could signal her own incapacitation. Perhaps having a new body brought implications with it- magical instability could be one of them, could it not? It is well known that magic is only contained within the body, and is not its source. It appears that the source is the variable that is attached to the Princess’s consciousness.

“Not now, thinking voice.” Lisevinde muttered as she unlatched her staff, holding it tightly in her right hand. She cast her invisibility spell over herself, but debated teleporting.

The wisest option. Should the Manor be compromised, suddenly appearing somewhere else might put us in a disadvantageous position. I would not advise it- lest we-

Lisevinde’s mind stilled. Her body froze. Two figures stood in front of Ranni’s chambers. The sorceress assessed them before doing anything. One of them was going to fight her up close. A warrior. She held two fans- her weapons, and wore a red skirt that was angled more to the left side than the right, reaching down to her knee. Golden threads ran across it.

Over her chest she wore red silk that appeared to wrap around her, leaving her stomach exposed. She also covered her mouth and nose with a mask depicting the golden teeth of a beast.

The man that stood next to her would not want to fight her up close. That was her initial assessment. He held a staff, and wore an armor that appeared ancient. It was of a dark gray hue, with sudden sharp edges all over it. Somehow, Lisevinde felt this person was cold personified. The feeling intensified the longer she looked at him.. And then he turned toward her, staring.

Her heart jumped at the possibility of that thing seeing her, but the fact that he looked away eased her. Her spell still held. She could not be seen.

She didn’t know if what she saw was his face- a mask or a piece of his armor, but it looked like the skull of a long dead being, jaw open in fury. That too, was of a dark gray hue, the only characteristic alluding to anything other than death being the twin blue lights in the pits of his eyes… They were simply ice.

“She isn’t here.” Someone spoke. Not one of the others. He walked out of the Princess’s chambers clothed with an old looking coat and triangular hat. He had an odd look to him. This clothing was not standard in the Lands Between. Lisevinde certainly didn’t remember seeing something like it before.

He turned toward her. A hint of recognition in his eyes, along with a wicked grin let her know that he had in fact seen her. He was also a mage. A powerful one at that. “Well.. Our target is gone, but it seems that we won't thirst, friends..”

*

Lisevinde broke into a run immediately. The princess was safe, and she had assessed the situation. She could very well die here. Three against one was not a situation that worked in her favor.

I advise you to leave now, though I suppose that you are already doing so.

“Why are you speaking as if we’re different people- and why am I talking to you?” Lisevinde spoke to herself. The new thinking voice didn’t answer, and she thought that perhaps she was doing it to ease herself, since her survival was definitely not a certainty.

She could transport herself away instantaneously. Why hadn’t she done so? Fear, most likely. A sense of impending death threatening to end her for all time.

The sorceress poured magic into her staff, willing it to transport her somewhere else. To Moonchilde maybe- or to the princess. She knew not where either of them were, so the next best thing.. Mister Iji. That’d do.

An explosion boomed down the hall. The oddly clothed man approached. The transportation spell took much longer than usual to activate- why?..

“That won’t work, sorceress. Not while I’m here… I could sense your affinity for travel.. Through this, and others.. Through higher planes of existence through the mind.. But-... Your mind is still lesser. You’ve yet to acquire eyes my dear friend… But there must be some semblance of them within you… So I will take a look inside..” The man drawled, slowly gesturing with his hands as he casually walked toward her.

Lisevinde did not need to think for more than a moment to decide that she would not hear him talk. A small, but sharp and forceful projectile of barely visible magic flew through the air at an impressive speed.

Something collided with it- and it disappeared. No-... Had something hit it, there would be an impact, but there was simply nothing.

“I do not wish to fight… I cannot fight, my dear friend. I wish only to be an observer, a watcher, one who idles by as the world moves and moves and moves… I will simply see what you are, what you have that makes you so special… Then you may live the rest of your life as you will, if you can survive your skull being open, exposed, vulnerable, visible.. I truly do hope you do, my friend.”

The man spoke with an odd calmness, yet his every word was said with an uneven tone and rhythm. By Lisevinde’s assessment, he was insane. He had to be.

“Why do you not speak to me, oh friend? Please allow me to see what makes you special…” He continued as he took another step forward.

“Nikhan…” The armored mage who looked like death spoke. “This is not what we were ordered to do.” His voice sounded as if speaking required tremendous effort. It was the sound of breathing through a narrow tube.

“We may still drain the girl before he does as he does.” The woman suggested.

“He will not be the only one to be reprimanded should we fail, Hanabi. We must-” The vision of death spoke again, but Lisevinde did not allow them to converse freely. She shot another burst of magic from her wand. None of them moved as it struck true, on the armored mage’s chest. The man only let out a grunt as he stumbled backward. His armor was unharmed.

He ran a hand over where he was struck, and started walking toward Lisevinde aggressively. staff in hand.

The air suddenly got colder, a lot colder. Cold enough for the sorceress’s breath to become a soft mist in front of her.

“I see you have changed your mind, my dear friend… I must remind you not to harm her head, though.. I must inspect her mind for eyes..” Said Nikhan, standing still behind the two others. He didn’t seem inclined to move, but Lisevinde was mostly wary of him.

The visage of death approached even though the sorceress aimed blast after blast of magic at him. He either took them head on, or deflected them with his staff, which he used more like a weapon than a catalyst for magic.

He was soon within striking range, and Lisevinde could see his every move, hear every shift, every scrape of his armor as he prepared to attack.

The cold became unbearable, swaying trails of vapor emanating from each side of his staff as sharp ice manifested on it and grew. It grew to the point where it would be considered a twinblade. “Arrogant child.. To think I saw it fitting to allow you to live…” He rasped, his hands moving, edging the twinblade along in a deadly dance.

Lisevinde dodged backward as he slashed at her sideways, striking the wall instead, pieces of ice clattering to the floor, the crackling of large masses of it shifting and moving as the wall froze solid at the point of impact, ice spreading outward in a hateful, hungry surge.

One scratch- one touch from that weapon and we’re dead. We cannot heal ourselves, nor can we recover from such damage. He must be avoided.

‘He will be’. Lisevinde thought to herself. She had taken precautions after all. Many precautions.
“This is taking much longer than it should.” Said the woman wearing red, flipping the fans in her hands before unfurling them, glinting gold the sorceress knew was sharp enough to cut her throat. “Perhaps you need a little bit of help, Arctus.”

Arctus. The very face of death.

He grunted in response to Hanabi, staying on the offensive against the sorceress despite all the magic she threw at him.

He might just be completely immune to it. We should try something else then.

It didn’t take long for the thought to form. She shot two bursts of magic at once, while pretending to be aiming only for him, she shot one of them straight at him, and the other upward, toward the chain keeping a chandelier where it lay attached to the ceiling. He didn’t even notice it. Another burst, toward him that he deflected before the chandelier fell, crushing him with a loud thud as the golden object lodged itself into the wood-tile floor.

Now that’s done with.

The thinking voice started- yet stopped again at an eerie feeling. What was it? One of them had been crushed, and another one remained. Just one, right? The feeling intensified, until the realization dawned on her. There were three of them.

She didn’t have time to twist around when she felt cold metal digging into her nape..

Her mind drowned in disappointment.

‘I had yet to figure out what love is..’ She thought to herself as she resigned to fate.

*
Time had stopped, or so the sorceress thought for a single moment, before whatever was cutting into her was pulled away. She turned around to face whatever it was that was about to kill her, only to see Hanabi crumpled up against the wall, multiple wounds all over her body- ones that appeared to be healing.

“And now my dear traveler you and I are alone… My allies will soon be restored due to the blood that runs through their veins… But we do have time for a little fun…” He said slowly, walking toward her, old-looking boots tapping on the floor.

“What if I say that I don’t quite look forward to this ‘eye searching’? What then?” She asked, but mostly just to gain herself time to think. To act. His abilities seemed to be well beyond those of the others, especially if he could so easily defeat one of them. It made her wonder whether or not he was their leader.

“Oh, no… We cannot have that… I must ascend… Maybe you’ll be the key.. I know well that these mongrels aren’t… The blood of their god is not even close to being as potent as that of the old gods… But maybe with you… With your eyes… I may be allowed communion with true greatness.”

“No.” Lisevinde said flatly.

You have no information on his capabilities. You do not even know where his strength begins. Let us not speak of where it ends.

Well, perhaps Lisevinde had a plan. An idea, a byproduct of a brilliant mind that would give her an edge. Or- maybe not. But she’d still try.

“I had a feeling you’d say that.. They all do. No one wants to help me reach true greatness.. They are all too attached to the physical, to what’s real-..” Said Nikhan, pacing around instead of closing the distance between them.

“Why won’t you let me pry your skull open to look for eyes, then? Are you afraid that it would terminate your functions?” Lisevinde bit back.

“Because I need this vessel you fool. Do you have any idea what it cost me to acquire it?” Nikhan cried out, setting his eyes on her, which were laced with an unnatural rage, one that was not there a mere second ago. “I tire..” He said as he raised a hand.

Lisevinde tensed, but nothing happened. Nothing she had time to react to, that is. She only found herself hanging upside down. That had happened with such a speed that she thought she might be seeing her breakfast soon enough- but by the grace of some great unseen force, or by sheer coincidence as she thought, she didn’t throw up.

A great force bound her at the legs, holding tight, an inescapable grip.

“Such assistance and more can be gained by having eyes… Eyes!” Nikhan shouted at her erratically, in a tone of anger, and then sadness.

The sorceress looked up at her legs with no shortage of difficulty. Whatever it was that was holding her was not here, at least not completely. It seemed like Nikhan had conjured only a part of a great beast, and that one part was enough to completely incapacitate one of his allies, and to restrain.

The limb that had been conjured looked much like a tentacle, save for the fact that it appeared much like human flesh- and skin. No. Something like this did not require thinking. She conjured a spectral blade with her staff and struck it, careful not to harm herself in the process.

With a disgusting squelch she was free, but doused in an odd liquid that smelt nothing like blood.

The world rumbled as the creature disappeared, pulling its limb back into the deepest reaches of the pit it must’ve come from.

Lisevinde transported herself to the floor safely, instead of taking the fall.

“An oversight on my part…” Nikhan drawled. “But if it is a fight you want, you shall have it…” He said as he picked something out from under his coat. With a slight clicking adjustment, a small metallic tube lengthened into a cane. Tapping one side of it on the floor made another adjustment, rows of jagged metal teeth appearing on its side. “I will play with you… Sorceress, and I’ll carve those eyes out of your skull whether you want me to, or not.”

Lisevinde felt a wave of disgust wash through her at that. How could a person be so deranged? Even in the pursuit of some… sort of truth, such a temperament was unsavory, she decided.

Saying not a word, she poured magic into her staff and shot multiple bursts of faint light blue.

Nikhan slashed forward with his cane, which acted more like a flail now, surprisingly enough. Teeth of metal met her magic only to dispel it immediately, all of her projectiles deflected by a single arc of his weapon. She could bet that the man would rather use it on her than those bursts of magic. That devilish enjoyment in his eyes betrayed much more than she’d like. It’d be better if he hid what he was.

“Are you afraid to be where the blood might spill? That’s the best part of the hunt.”He spoke again, not getting an answer from the sorceress and changing to a serious look. His eyes set on her like those of a hawk’s. Once more, she did not know what to make of it. She only wanted it to be over.

“I tire of you… So give me what I’ll end up taking anyway…” Nikhan charged forward, his weapon at his side. Lisevinde was taken aback by his sheer speed. She called forth a spectral blade at the tip of her staff, but the weapon was not deflected. It wrapped around the blade and her hand, drawing blood and breaking clean through her focus. Her blade dissipated as she screamed, metal teeth digging deep into her flesh, grating against her bones, her knuckles.

Now this seems like an inescapable predicament indeed. It would’ve been better if you had… Transported yourself elsewhere.. Within the confines of the Manor.

Thanks for nothing. Lisevinde thought, all while she looked the man straight in the eyes, a silent fire threatening him.

“We will be disturbed here… By my allies no doubt… So we must go.. To my own domain.” The man explained as he angled his hand downward.

A blot appeared on the floor, as dark as black ink. Lisevinde could not understand its purpose. Only when she was flung into it did she realize that it was a sort of transportation spell, like her own. Only.. It relied on a sort of gate system. She hadn’t thought of that… But perhaps she’d have time to do so, because she appeared to be falling endlessly…

*

Raphael

Stormveil Castle

Eating normal food at a place that even slightly resembled home was much better than salted meat. His venture hadn’t lasted long, but it sure felt like an eternity with everything he and the others went through. But it was not over, nor would it be for a long while still.

It was a question that gnawed on him, unwanted as he was by a certain someone, why should he continue? Melina and Eitan had asked him to join them, to ‘put the world to rights’, but he didn’t know about that. He wasn’t too fond of the way the maiden handled Raya Lucaria. Even if he was leading the way, she didn’t even appear to believe that Soralis would be there. It was all for the gods damned great rune..

So he would not -he settled- join the others. He would assist them where his responsibilities lie, but from then on he’d be alone. He could return to Leyndell, if only to see his father one more time. He knew not though if he would accept him, with all his talk of serving the Erdtree, when he’d gone to such lengths to defy his wishes. His orders.

He was open to dialogue, at least with him, that much Raphael knew, so maybe he could speak with him, try to see eye to eye.. Melina and Eitan’s mission entailed going after his father as well, though he would not tell them, no. As they had not told him of their own plan just a few days ago.

“And that’s why I’ll never trust another Bloodhound Knight… They’re said to be just as loyal as a dog, but if that’s a dog’s loyalty, I want none of it.” The Half-Wolf complained.

Raphael chuckled. He must’ve been talking about Darriwil, the knight guessed.

 

“I hope that you as well would rather trust a wolf over a dog having seen that, friend.” The Half-Wolf continued. He was wiping a cloth on his blade, going over the gems and crystals that were ingrained on its flat side. Which- even with a fireplace in the room, chilled the atmosphere around them when unsheathed.

“Of course.” He found himself saying, though he didn’t quite care. And- if anything, a wolf’s a wolf and a dog’s a dog. They’re different, yes, but one is not inherently better than the other, he supposed.

“Do you feel fear, kid?... Over what’s to come?.. A fight against a legend such as the General.. It unsettles me just thinking about it.” Said Blaidd, his hand frozen in the midst of a wiping motion, his eyes set on Raphael.

“I do.” The knight admitted. “I feel fear even when facing much weaker opponents.. Both for myself, and for them… Now… the Demigod is no weak enemy. He is a force of nature, is he not? An absolute power.. There may not be any fear in me for him.” Raphael said slowly.

The Half-Wolf nodded. “Noble words.” He said, lowering his gaze, remaining quiet, in thought. Perhaps he would’ve said more. He seemed to be quite troubled by his own fear. But he didn’t. His ears perked up, awfully alert of everything due to his wolf senses. Raphael reckoned that Blaidd heard Moonchilde’s footsteps at least five thuds before he did.

The Mage-Knight walked through the door, straight into their shared room. He held his helmet at his side, and rested his other hand on his sword’s hilt. “It is time.” He said to them. “We must fall upon him like starfire. We must be steady. Firm.”

He spoke as if he saw something in their eyes. That tinge of fear. Raphael realized, he saw it too- in his.

“Let us go.” Said Moonchilde as he walked away in a quick stride.

*

Soralis

Altus Plateau

She had been here before. She had seen it recently, in her mind. Through the Pale One’s eyes- and thus it felt like something pulled out of recent memory. As if she saw it yesterday. The golden grass- gold-leaved trees, the Erdtree standing proud above it all. Eternal. Unending. It was the epitome of everything. The center of this land, and Altus Plateau made that even more clear. Everything that took root here, flourished and thrived, becoming a mirror to the great force that oversees it. Even the city built around it seemed to thrive under its influence. The huntress wasn’t certain of the reason behind it- maybe something so grand being there every day- with a promise of forever would make people feel a certainty few other things could provide. It was through this city- this capital of certainty that they had to travel through in order to reach their subordinate to be. The Demon, Okina.

Yura wasn’t the only one who killed in the mines. Soralis finally understood what Eleonora meant when she said that the hunter had done far less than they would have. At some point, it seemed like Yura found his own waking mind again. Had anyone ever been strong enough to keep the curse at bay? She didn’t know. Maybe the Raven. But in the end, he fell as well, just as Eleonora did, proof of it found in the caves they ventured through to reach the plateau. She had felled a beast. A giant, horrible beast. One tough of scale, and sharp of mind. Sharp enough to wield a blade even in this state. It may as well have been human at some point. When they found it again though, it was naught but a dried out husk. Such was the thirst of a finger, that after such a feast, two dozen explorers were still an inviting meal.

The drake-knight didn’t seem to be proud of herself. Every body, every drained mass she knelt by and buried. Soralis had to admire that. She wondered if she could look back at everything she ever did with such humility. No. She paled at the thought. At the ocean of blood and corpses deep within her mind. They would kill her, and the ocean would drown her, and there would be no remorse. That felt right somehow.

They walked down a frequently travelled path. A trade route, possibly. They had left their horses with Kale, with no way for them to climb scaffolding. He said he would guide them here, somehow, so they would not leave this place for a while, but they still needed someplace to sit down and rest. It didn’t seem wise to be out in the open. They were still being hunted by the other fingers after all.
They settled for some ruins shaded by a tall rock formation. A pack of wolves prowled around them, but they all left as the two of them walked near, disappearing into a nearby thicket in a chorus of howls and yelping.

They sat by each other, their backs to a wall older than most beings in this land, and rested. The Erdtree’s furthermost branches were still visible oddly enough, even though she looked in the opposite direction. She recalled basking in its light, amazed at its splendor, certain that there was nothing greater than it. That certainty had died for her. It died when she realized that a power so great would only offer kindness selectively.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Eleonora said, in complete opposition with Soralis’s feelings. But then.. “And yet so so evil.”

The huntress glanced at the drake-knight in question. She truly hadn’t expected such an opinion, but why not? Perhaps she didn’t know her friend as well as she thought she did. There was still much to remember.

“What? Don’t look at me as if you expected me to be some sort of fundamentalist. We also fall outside the scope of the Golden Order.. Of this oh so great tree. I may not be Nox like you, but I also possess the cursed blood.. Or used to- but since my powers seem to still be present..” She said as she summoned a steady flame in her hand, not as dark as that of Soralis, which took upon a deep red. It was lighter, closer to normal flame, but still with a hint of a crimson undertone. “I’ll still be considered… Something.. Other than pure.. Not to mention their gripes with fire.. I suppose you and I are.. twice as other to them.”

“I don’t know what I expected..” Soralis said with a smile. “I was once taken prisoner by a group of soldiers from Leyndell.. They were sent to hunt down Tarnished… Whatever that means.” She explained, the memories uncomfortable to think of. Fear and uncertainty a thing that was absent from her mind ever since she knew she wasn’t weak. “I was lopped in with them… They couldn’t have known who or what I was, but they would’ve executed me all the same.”

“They don’t often look too deeply into what anyone is… As long as they think they’ve found something different, it’s enough for them to warrant its death and mistreatment.”

“It would be better if they weren’t around. Or if they didn’t think that way.” Soralis responded

“You..” The drake-knight started. “We, could do something about it.”

“But-” The huntress went to object, but Eleonora spoke again

“After saving our people, Soralis. After defeating the Lord and the other fingers.”

Soralis sighed. “I don’t know… It isn’t our fight to fight.. At least not yet. We’ve lost so many people. We need time to grieve.”

Eleonora nodded in thought. She didn’t agree. The huntress could tell, but she would never defy her.
“Speaking of changing the world again, Pale One?” A feminine voice sounded, radiating strength.

Both Eleonora and Soralis were on their feet instantly, piercers and twinblade called to their side.

“Fret not, fingers of the Lord of Blood. I have not come here to exact revenge for your betrayal… My presence here is owed to my curiosity toward the Pale Finger…” The voice continued, familiar to the huntress.

“Lady Lansseax…” The drake-knight muttered.

She remembered her then- The huntress did too, but… Who was she exactly? Her question was answered as soon as a feminine figure appeared from behind a pillar. Pure white scales covered her body. Red lightning danced around her as she approached.

An attack! Soralis angled her body forward and dashed toward the- thing.

“Soralis- wait!” Eleonora warned, too late

Lightning scorched her body as her hand landed on the figure’s neck. It hurt, but it was nowhere near lethal. She could kill her before she could do anything else. The huntress turned and slammed the figure against a pillar, expecting to meet force, but only meeting a hand feebly holding her own.

“Wait…” Lansseax said, straining. Her lightning ceased.

Only now did Soralis realize what she was seeing. She truly recalled her from the Pale One’s memories. The ancient dragon that guided her to Farum Azula.

The huntress let go of her throat and walked back, still wary of her.

The dragon coughed, sending a trail of smoke out of her nostrils. Soralis thought her form was quite odd. The features of a dragon on a human body.

“I said…” The dragon said between coughs. “Mine presence… Is owed to mine own curiosity.”

“We’re listening.” Soralis spat.

Eleonora looked bewildered, as if torn between two masters.

“There you are, drake-knight… Consumed by the blood no longer.. how curious.” Lansseax said slowly. She quickly shifted as she noticed Soralis’s gaze upon her. “I sensed your presence, Pale One… What you did… Three years ago, I believe.. Was quite confusing to me. If you sought to kill a dragon, why not kill me? Why travel to my homeland to murder one of my kin?” She accused, the words spoken quietly, yet laced with a burning conviction. Not hatred, but a firm desire to understand.
“That was not me.” Soralis said plainly.

Red lightning crackled around the dragoness again. “Do not lie.”

“I am not lying.” The huntress bit back. “I came to you for help in order to save my people.. The person who killed that dragon tried to kill me as well.”

“I have no knowledge of that person. I only brought you to my home.”

“Well, he was there.” Soralis insisted. “If I had killed that dragon, and if I truly meant you any harm, I doubt I’d be denying it. Someone like that, would kill you, too.”

Lansseax’s lightning calmed slightly, but still threatened to jump back up, skittering over her scales. “Speak of this person, then.”

“You would not know of him.”

“You might be surprised, Pale Finger” The dragoness said as she showed her teeth, whether it was a smirk or threat Soralis didn’t know.

“I speak of the White Mask, Varre. A devout follower of the Lord of Blood. I know not much of his other activities, but I am certain that he killed your kin, and tried to kill me. He is also currently plotting to kill me by sending my former allies after me.”

“And this one?” Lansseax asked, pointing a clawed finger at Eleonora. “You must have cleansed her cursed blood, for I do not sense any within her.

“I have.” Soralis confirmed.

“I know of this White Mask you speak of, Pale One. I found him while I was searching for you… A coward… Yet sly.”

“Should you encounter him again, Lansseax, you should kill him.” Said Soralis

“That I will do, Pale One, but not because you instruct me so. The mongrel must die for his crimes against my kind. By lightning and fire.” The dragoness breathed out, flames raging in an arc in front of her, stopping right before reaching Soralis and Eleonora. She appeared to calm herself before speaking. “Another question.” She started, moving closer. “You said you wished to save your people. Was cleansing this cursed blood what you required assistance with?”

The huntress nodded. “Eleonora suggested that the venerable Dragonlord might be able to help us, should we have his favor. Had things not gone as they did, I would’ve done anything to acquire it.”

The dragoness scoffed. “I thought you a great fool, Soralis the Pale One, I really did. A killer who would show their face in my domain again… Yet it wasn’t you. You might gain his favor yet.. I see great promise in you, and I can only hope the seedling you are will one day bloom.”

“What do you mean?” Soralis asked.

“I only suggest that you may bring change, whatever that might mean. You should do as you will.” Lansseax spoke softly- as softly as a dragon could. “And you…” She began with a grating rasp.

The huntress glanced at Eleonora, who had opted to stay quiet during this conversation. She appeared to be afraid of the dragoness. In her mind, she had failed the dragons, after all.

“Drake-Knight. Eleonora. Child, you have felled many beasts in our name. You are the greatest of your order, even if you yourself do not accept it.. I will ignore where your allegiances currently lie out of respect for your work, and your master. Your vows to the dragons need not bind you any longer. So be free, child. And stay safe.” The dragoness maintained her soft tone, bowing in front of the Drake-Knight, her wings laying down low.

Eleonora’s eyes widened as if in fear. “Great dragon priestess- I- You need not prostrate yourself” Yet still, the dragoness lowered her head to the ground in the greatest show of respect they were capable of.

“Speak not, child. I am aware of the fact that your insolence stems from your respect for me, but remain quiet. You are not my lesser any longer.” Smoke exited her nostrils as she exhaled.

The Drake-Knight acted as she was ordered to, and simply placed her hand on her heart, inclining her head slightly. “I will serve my new master well, dragon priestess. I hope to have been satisfactory during my service to you.”

The dragoness sighed, choosing not to look at Eleonora as the drake-knight spoke. “You were more than satisfactory, child..” A pause as she straightened. “I will bid you farewell, now. I have my answers, and for that I must thank you.” She said as she glanced at Soralis.

Without another word, Lansseax waved a hand in front of herself, as if to wave them away. Her form slowly shifted, scales turning to mist- then dark clouds rippling with lightning. The thunderclouds slowly rippled away, the dragoness with them.

Eleonora suddenly breathed out, as if she had been holding her breath for as long as the encounter lasted. She lowered herself as she set her hands on her knees, breathing heavily.
“That was not how I thought that’d go.” The drake-knight muttered.

Soralis raised a brow. “She couldn’t have killed us.”

“I wasn’t suggesting she would be aggressive.” Eleonora said flatly. “I just expected to be reprimanded. I abandoned the order when I was taken in by the White Mask… It’s odd, thinking back to that time. The only reason I accepted his offer to join the bloody fingers was because of the power that came with it. Had I known of the side effects… I never would have..” Her voice came out quietly, with difficulty. As if thinking of her past actions was straining. She shifted, eyes of amber falling upon her new master. “But that doesn’t matter, I suppose… All that matters is the task at hand.”

The huntress nodded. “Steel your mind.” She said, setting a hand on Eleonora’s shoulder and rubbing it gently. The drake-knight smiled at her in response. “It’s like he’s here with me.”

“He taught me well.” Soralis said, smiling. She was sad, but happy. She couldn’t recall ever feeling this. It was sad, but much better than it was when she found out Yura was dead. She didn’t want to believe it, but it was true. The memories surged into her mind when it happened, as if a part of her was with him all along. She knew this well. Knew he had her blood, and that he could very well die because of it. Now- she also knew that her blood helped him save Eleonora.

The Pale One had said that he would’ve died no matter what.. Greater forces at play, then? She didn’t want to accept it. He couldn’t have been impossible to save.

“Is it a bad moment to say I’ve brought your horses?”

Kale. He approached slowly, Spot and Fiend in tow, Talla walking by his side.

“Right on time, I think. Not for the horses- I was just getting hungry.” Said Soralis, tapping Eleonora on the shoulder reassuringly, eliciting another smile from her.

“I’m not your personal cook you know-... Nor am I your horse handler, but here I am.” Said Kale, sighing.

“I’m hungry too.” Said Eleonora, shrugging.

The merchant shook his head. “What can I do… I suppose I’ll do as ordered.”

*

The food was better than Soralis could have imagined. They had no meat, so Kale had to make do with just roots and mushrooms, but the stew that resulted from this was beyond her wildest dreams.

They all sat down and rested, as much as they could with the task looming over their heads, but Soralis had it worse. Sleep eluded her, and when it did find her, she was haunted by a black armored rider, who overpowered and outwitted her at every turn. She knew well where this had come from. She remembered the night she fought against him, Yura by her side- perhaps the only reason she survived.

She jolted awake. It wasn’t the first time it happened. This time however, she awoke to someone’s hands on her own, perhaps an attempt to keep her calm?

“What- Where am I?” Soralis cried out.
“You’re seeing them again..” Eleonora said pensively, setting the huntress’s head back in her lap. “It’s alright..” She said halfheartedly, because what, if anything, could make the Pale One feel such vivid fear?

*

Lisevinde

Depths of Somewhere

If there was an absolute dark, this was it. And if there ever would be a longest recorded fall- well it wouldn’t be this one, but if she could record it, it definitely would be. She’d been falling for what felt like days. She could say week, but didn’t want to make herself believe that such a thing was possible.

You are in distress. You must also be near death. That mangled hand cannot be doing you any favors. You could disregard your ability to sense the sands of time now, right?

If it had been days, she would be dead now. Dehydration was one of the options, but bleeding out would be what killed her. Nikhan had caught her hand with that terrible weapon of his. It wrapped around it, digging into her skin, scraping against her bones, grinding, tearing, lacerating. She knew how much it hurt, but she was glad she didn’t get a chance to look at it. She definitely didn’t have high hopes for it.

This was taking a long time. Too long a time. Death wasn’t an impossibility. She could have died. This could be what happened to people after death. It wasn’t as fun as she’d hoped. This could never top non-existence. Complete nothingness. No. She still had her senses. Or she thought she did- There was nothing to hear or see, but she saw the absence of light. That was something. So- she had eyes. And- even if that weren’t a confirming factor, she could bring her functioning hand to her face, feel the sensation of skin brushing against skin. Again, how could she be dead? The worst sensation of all hadn’t left her since she was first thrown into this endless pit. Nausea. Her body couldn’t tell down from up. She didn’t even know where her breakfast went when she inevitably threw up- and this was the first time she thanked the Erdtree, or whichever godly being governed reality for vomiting, because there was nothing else in her stomach now.

She hoped she wasn’t alone in here, at least at first. The thought of something else lurking in a lightless pit wasn’t comforting. There was always a chance it wasn’t human, and hadn’t fed in a while. Then again a human that hadn’t fed in a while would also be a threat.

That’s true, and you better believe it. Be vigilant.

Why did she even think like that? Would it matter? There were no stars to turn to for magic, and her own reserves were so small it couldn’t matter what she did. She could transport herself elsewhere once. It was her greatest flaw. A great mage who can only cast a single sorcery without turning to the stars. A vivid image of a star crawled into her mind, then disappeared as soon as she managed to understand what she was looking at. A blazing sphere?... Was that what stars truly were? How did she even get to that thought?
A jumble of images appeared in her mind. She couldn’t make them out. They appeared and disappeared rapidly. She brought both hands to her head due to the pain, only to be reminded that one of her hands was not to be used. She screamed louder than she ever had, but there was no one to hear her here. No human…

She finally felt a presence, somehow much greater than herself. Even greater than Lady Ranni. It felt like the concentration of magic, and then again.. Different. Her endless descent was finally brought to a stop. There was no ground where she was, but she found footing on something. A flat surface.

There’s no way you can stand.

As Lisevinde crumbled to her knees, an image of crimson flowing blood crept in her head.

Why am I thinking of these things?...

Even her rational thought was frustrated. It only made sense.

A mass of information surged toward her. She felt it.

The embodiment of self, the sense of being, and untruth.

The sorceress’s mind started working on these feelings, these universal definitions that were sent to her as beings rather than emotions. Could it be that whatever this presence was, was trying to communicate with her?

What had she even asked it?

The memory of her speaking was repeated within her mind, but it was a working orchestrated by the presence. She would not have remembered.

‘Why am I thinking of these things?...’

Wow.. That sounded pathetic.

She thought to herself, not distracting her mind from her task. If she could understand this presence, whatever it was, she could be aided… Perhaps.

Truth

The universal statement resonated in her mind. A concept. It would help, then? Was that what it was trying to say?

Truth

The concept appeared again.

Then.. What was it saying earlier? Was it a response to her question?
Truth

Self, being, untruth.

The final word was disagreeing with her statement… Self could refer to it, or her, and being could refer to the fundamental value of whether she was or wasn’t. A statement of truth or untruth, again. She.. Was… Not? She wasn’t thinking these things?

Truth

Then how? Was it the presence’s doing? It could somehow project images and concepts into other beings’ minds.

Self. Truth

It could. This was fascinating. Most fascinating.

Self. Comprehension.

A question, or a statement? Self could mean both she and it. It’d make more sense if it were talking about her. She, understood. Yes.

Truth

The being signalled again. Somehow, this wasn’t terrifying. If anything, she’d be writing notes down in her journal. This being was so fascinating- it should be extremely intelligent- this was a… Universal mode of communication.

Assistance, Self, Self

Evil, Make, Untruth

This was difficult. The first part she could understand immediately. It wanted them to form an alliance.

Truth

What did it want her to do with Evil, though? Do something to all evil? Do something evil?

Untruth.

It responded. Yeah, she thought so.

Evil, Self, React

The being chimed, somehow appearing panicked.

Evil, Self, Pain

It signalled again, this time faster. Another jumble of images. Blood. Birth. Pain. Torture. Men and women in coats like the one Nikhan wore. Separation. Mother. Death. Anger.

It had been tortured. It had lost its mother. She couldn’t see it, but it’s greatness could not be overstated. The sorceress wondered what kind of creature might be a mother to it. Could there be a being greater still?

Truth. Multitude

The being responded suddenly, slowing down.

There were many of them, then. This one was just one of many. A child perhaps. No answer came. Lisevinde felt its presence fade.

You tired it out. What if he comes back before it can help you escape? You should’ve been better. Should’ve gotten to asking it if it could help you, sooner.

And maybe she should have.

*

This had to be a dream. A nightmare would be a better way to put it. Nikhan was here, if a terrifying surge of power was anything to go off of, and with him came light- a dull, twisted version of it. The sun that suddenly appeared in the sky did nothing to hurt her eyes that were adjusted to extreme darkness. This was her first indication that this world was not real, for it was another world, but not one she knew.

Brick-layed streets, grey-roofed houses and shops, churches and plazzas, bridges flowing over roads that seemed to have been teeming with people.. Once. Now- there were corpses everywhere, corpses and terrible beasts. Giant blood sucking beasts drinking out of an endless river of blood. Wolf-like creatures, looking too much like humans, but not like Lady Ranni’s shadow. Not like the half-wolf. Terrible, vile beasts, as if they were humans overcome with an affliction, long fur growing over their bodies, their skulls misshapen to resemble those of wolves, as if their maws had been torn in half.

Some of them wore clothes, others wore rags. Any dregs of humanity still remaining in them, too far gone to stop them as they tore their kin open and ate them, brutalized and murdered them, not caring if they were still alive.

Hunt. Hunter

The being pulsed out information, slowly, as if it hesitated. The meaning it wanted to convey suddenly appearing in her mind. An image of Nikhan.

Evil.

Make.
Untruth.

The man is what you call evil. Do you want me to help you unmake him? Has he hurt you before?

Lisevinde thought back, attempting to communicate. The being had shown understanding to her thoughts before, despite her not directly trying to speak to it. She felt it’s elation at her words. It responded excitedly

Truth. Truth. Truth.

I cannot defeat him here. I draw power from the stars. My own powers… They’re not exactly sustainable without an almost clear line between me and them. I doubt I can reach them here.

The being remained quiet. The landscape she was in, shifted. It was the inside of a great church. A bell atop its tower rang, echoing through it. Nikhan was there, standing on the other side of a great hall. A giant beast lay crucified on an altar behind him. Rows of seats on either side of him sprawling all the way to her.

“It took me some time to find you. It seems like my little Mergo has taken a liking to you..” Nikhan drawled. “Even so, this realm is mine. Mine to control, mine to live in, and mine to reign over.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lisevinde said loudly.

The ring of the bell still hung in the air, thrumming in her ears.

The man smiled at her in a way she didn’t like. “No one does… No one ever does. And no one else can travel between worlds as I can.” He paused. “You.. Could… If the great one decided to grant you its favor, you could do anything. You could live like a god- you could be a god. I could be a god, if only I understood what it is about you that made him like you. Tell me- what did you do to him?”

Lisevinde was at a loss for words. She had no clue what it was that she did. She didn’t think she did anything. Apparently this creature liked her. Had tried to hide her from Nikhan. That must’ve been why it wasn’t responding to her thoughts anymore for a few moments.

Pain.

The concept reverberated within her mind, and before she had time to understand what it meant, Lisevinde could see the inside of her own head. Not her head- something beyond it. Would it be called a mind? Would it be- pain. Debilitating. Constant. Pain.

The sorceress dropped to her knees as she felt innumerable tiny digits tweak and prod some part of her that she couldn’t even comprehend.

“DO YOU HEAR IT? WHAT IS HE SAYING TO YOU? IS HE SPEAKING?” Nikhan cried out, desperate to see what it was that was happening to her. But she couldn’t answer. She could barely think.

She wished it would stop, begged anything, everything, any power beyond for it to stop- and then it did. As suddenly as it began, and it was as if it had never happened.

What was that?

She thought to herself, looking down at her hands, barely believing she had survived it.

Power. Self. Have.

Mergo responded after some thought. Lisevinde wondered. How could she have power- or was he referring to himself? He couldn’t be. She felt that power within her. Completely different to the one she relied on. Mergo had gifted her with a new power source. Whatever it was that stored one’s magical power, was separate from the body, yet still in contact with it. Affecting it. Tiring it when constant use of magic was made, and of course, taxing it to regenerate. Now.. Lisevinde could feel where her power came from, and it came from everywhere around her. She was actively absorbing energy. There was so much of it to use. It was endless. Nearly endless.

“So?... What did he say? What must I do to speak to him?” Nikhan asked, eyes pleading.

Lisevinde didn’t respond. She only stared at him, her newfound power bristling at her fingertips, begging to be released. She felt hate toward him. Would it be so wrong to end him here? She had never truly killed anyone, and never really thought about it. But did she need any justification for it? Any further justification after he did what he did to her? After he ruined her hand-

No. Her hand was right there? And it had been there earlier as well. How on earth?

Make

Untruth.

Self. Grant. Power.

“Very well, Mergo.” She said, and Nikhan appeared to understand what was happening.

He drew his cane and tapped its butt against the floor. The cane’s blades were released, one after another, each with their own metallic flick. The man’s face turned and twisted to an expression of rage. Blue-white power gathered at his fingers as he walked toward her. He moved a hand back, his bladed flail arcing.

The sorceress shouldn’t be able to cast magic. Especially not without her catalyst. She had dropped it when her hand was mangled. Now, however, magic seemed… palpable. As easy to touch as a stick on the ground. It was everywhere, and it was hers to use.
She didn’t have to deflect Nikhan’s attack, though. A child, no older than ten years old appeared in front of her and raised his hand. The flail bounced off of him and clattered on the floor. Nikhan yelled out in fury. “WHY DID YOU CHOOSE HER?!”

The child had to be Mergo. She wondered if that was his true form, or just one he chose. He looked back at her with pleading eyes as he faded into the unseen form he had before. He could not do anything else then. She decided she would. This man had likely tortured countless souls- doing unspeakable things to them. She didn’t doubt that if Mergo appeared physically, he did the same thing to him.

Nikhan’s question went unanswered. Mergo most likely didn’t try communicating with him, and Lisevinde did not see a reason to speak to the vile man. He readied his flail again, the magic in his left hand burning brighter, as if he was preparing to do something.

He dashed forward with great speed, and lashed at her with his weapon. This time the sorceress acted. Magic flew out of her fingertips. Her own magic, drawn by reserves that would not be depleted. She created a glintstone comet with unthinkable speed, and shot it right toward him. It hit his flail, both of them shattering to pieces. The man grunted, calling something forth from his other hand. It was like that other time, a gateway opened up in front of his hand, and countless tentacles came out, reaching for her.

Lisevinde transported herself behind him, shooting another comet, this time at his unprotected back.

Nikhan cried out in pain, falling to his knees. The magic in his hand fizzled out, and the tentacles withdrew to wherever they came from. “...I have still to… Find eyes… My eyes…”

The man said, again and again, rambling about the eyes on the inside of his head. Lisevinde shot another comet, aiming at his head.

*
Soralis, Eleonora

Plateau in the Dark

They had lost Kale, and they would never find him in this darkness. Heavy hoofsteps followed close behind them, and no matter how fast Soralis urged Fiend to run, they came closer and closer. The huntress was not one to feel fear, but her last encounter with foes of this kind has been forcefully scarred into her memory as the day she almost died. The day her best friend almost died because of her.

“Soralis! Ready yourself!” Eleonora yelled at her, but still, she could only see the dark. She knew the drake-knight was right by her, ready to die for her- to die with her, but it provided her no solace. One mistake, one misstep and the Black Riders would take everything from her. And gods- gods, there was another one. There were two of them. She counted another horse’s hoofsteps all of a sudden, the same as the other one’s. She looked behind to see the rider she had once fought, holding his halberd to the side of his horse, ready to cleave both Fiend and Soralis in half should he come close enough. The other one held a flail

“Steel your mind! We can take them!” The drake-knight tried again. Soralis’s heart thumped wildly in her chest, urging her to ride on until sunrise, hoping that something would change then. That these dark apparitions would fade like the shadows they chose to ride with.

They knew she was afraid. It was her shock and fear that brought her to defeat last time.

“Soralis.” Eleonora repeated, and this time her words reached her.

“I know we can.” She said back. “Alright.”

They’d fought side by side before, as she had fought with Yura. She didn’t remember if they could communicate as well, but she would have to trust her fully. She called her piercers to her side, and swiftly pulled her legs up, pushing off of Fiend’s back and flying into the air.

The halberd-wielding knight reacted to her movements in time, swinging his weapon upwards. It took both of her piercers to deflect it. She was flung even further up, throwing one of her piercers down at him, imbuing it with bloodflame. A loud shriek told her that she’d found her mark. The rider’s horse. He shouldn’t be able to see her, and she wouldn’t give him a chance to. He should fall off of his horse, and she could barely make out her weapon’s flames, Eleonora’s twinblades a raging tornado of fire further away from it as she was fighting the other one.

A burst of bloodflame under her feet gave her the push she needed. She fell toward the dismounted rider with incredible speed, like a streak of red lightning. The impact nearly broke her arms and legs, but not quite. She found her mark in his heart. The rider grunted in pain as he brought a hand to her piercer and squeezed tight, getting a hold of it. Then, he pushed it upward. He was stronger than she was, and he would remove it soon enough, but he didn’t have that sort of time. With a twist, wild red flames surged into his body, removing- draining every last drop of blood from him. The rider let out a sound that was similar to a raspy sigh as his hand fell to the side.

Soralis huffed, her heart still pounding, shallow breaths all she could manage. Looking to her right she saw Eleonora, finishing the other rider off, slicing sideways and freeing his head from his body.

Another nightmare now in the past, then.

*

Moonchilde

The land of Caelid was everything Moonchilde hated. It was hot, with a feeling of moisture in the air -despite the fires General Radahn’s redmanes set to combat the rot-. It stank of decay and all things rotten- of death and illness, and stagnancy. It was a wasteland, but more than anything, to the mage-knight, it was proof of the other demigods’ unfitness to rule.

“Taking in the scenery, eh?” Said Blaidd as he rode by him. The others followed them as they remained on the path. They had been instructed so by a group of Radahn’s soldiers. Staying on the path would… give them some semblance of safety, at least as long as they didn’t tempt fate.

‘The beasts that live here should avoid you if you’ve got fire to fend them off with.’ They said.

Fire. They had fire. The maiden with them could produce it. It raised a lot of questions about her, but it was best not to meddle. If she was a threat to lady Ranni- if she could bring forth that storied flame.. He would make sure she would never be a threat. And she knew it- oh, she did. Her eyes said it all. She was wary of him, perhaps because of the Lunar Princess. He knew not why, nor what she was aiming to do with that flame of hers… But one look at it told him it was different. There was a darkness in it, one so dark it could swallow gods with no issue. He didn’t care if she did just that. But he would not let that happen to his princess.

“Lad?” Blaidd said. “You’ve something on your mind.” He said quietly. “Speak” He ordered with a regal authority he had never heard from him before.

“I cannot, Blaidd.” He started. “I.. suspect that…” He went to explain, but shook his head. “This can wait.. We’ve got work to do.” Yes. They did. But it could only wait because the maiden was here where he could keep an eye on her. That darkness was a threat to all that lived. All that breathed.

“I’ll trust you then. But should you be concerned about something, you should tell me. We tell each other what we know.” He said, with absolute certainty. Moonchilde nodded in agreement.

“We will do so.”

*

Redmane Castle. The legendary general’s seat was as impressive as he. A towering mass built of light grey bricks, no doubt by his loyal soldiers, who defended it even in their Lord’s absence. Dozens of them stood by the great bridge that ran over a cliff, all the way to the other side where the castle lay. Knights, soldiers, warriors, all skilled, all known by the general himself. At least that’s what Blaidd said.

They didn’t question the group’s presence. The Demigod was to be challenged by all, so he may eventually be slain and put to rest. This was only arranged because so many of his own already died to kill him, Moonchilde assumed, but he didn’t know.

Many warriors, even ones from distant lands were here. As they passed the gates, they saw many of them sparring, fighting with sword and shield.

“Good luck.” An armored knight said as he stood aside for them, bowing slightly. They would need it, Moonchilde thought. He knew for certain that he could not do this alone. Hell- he wasn’t even sure he could do this with the people he had with him.

“Champions welcome!” A voice sounded from the other side of the courtyard. A man stood on a higher level, greeting them from behind the railing.

“The stars have aligned! The festival is nigh! General Radahn, the mightiest demigod of the shattering awaits you!” An old man wearing a brown hood and colorful clothing cried out. Every single person in the courtyard turned to face him. Fighters from the land of reeds, wielding katanas, warriors from the badlands, knights of the lands between, and even a Crucible Knight. A sworn one, unlike the one that had stormed the Academy.. Raphael.

“Prepare for battle! Defeat the General! Claim glory! And grab that great rune! A celebration of war! The Radahn Festival!”

Everyone raged. Fists and swords flew up in celebration- or in respect for the General. If they were here to pay their respects or to gain power through that Great Rune, Moonchilde could not tell, but they all seemed like a bunch of fools, himself included, going against a Demigod like that.”

*

Lisevinde

Another World

The sorceress sat cross legged on the grand church’s floor, the child that was not quite a child mimicking her position and standing across her. It did not seem to understand human interaction as it smiled at regular intervals. She assumed it was because she did so as well, but she did it out of contentment.

The being appeared to be happy just staring at her and doing nothing. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but every second in that world felt like a second too long.

“I would like to return to my own world-... I would like to leave. Do you know how to do that?”
She asked him.

Mergo smiled at her, and took a while until he responded to her with concepts.

Untruth.

A pause.

Assist. Truth.

“So you’ll help me?” She asked, crossing her arms.

Truth.

Alright. A being nearly beyond her comprehension was on her side. A juvenile one, but still. Mergo was powerful, and even if he could not directly transport her, it was possible that he could grant her the power to transport herself. Was transporting oneself within places so different from transport between realities? She’d have to start testing.

That’ll take you a while, but you should definitely try.

Thanks for stating the obvious, me. Couldn’t have done this without you.

*

Eitan

Redmane Castle

Any sparring or talking that was taking place in the crowded courtyard had ceased so the old man at the top of the stairs could speak. Many more warriors arrived, walking close periodically. The place looked like an odd army camp. An alliance between peoples.

The old man, who introduced himself as Jarren, spoke about General Radahn’s history. About his countless victories, his mastery over gravity magic, as well as his strategic and combat prowess.

Apparently he was a good ruler as well. His reign over Caelid was peaceful and fruitful. Gravity sorcery flourished in Sellia , the trade of gravity stones and magic catalysts did as well, as there was an influx of people wanting to become sorcerers. Despite the General’s success however, the land soon festered and perished, but not because of his own shortcomings. The general may have not viewed it so- but that’s what old Jerren said.

General Radahn fought in the battle between demigods for the Elden Throne. He was once stabbed in the back by the Fell Omen, and in his fight against the prodigy Malenia, he was afflicted with her rot. The very same rot the coward used to destroy Caelid, after her own army fell to the general’s redmanes.

It is in the later stages of his affliction that this newly gathered fighting force would do battle against him, still standing almost no chance.. No chance if Eitan and the others weren’t here. It was easy to gauge the others’ strength. Their group was among the strongest. Other notable warriors were… Weak at best when compared to them. A knight wearing armor similar to that of Raphael looked promising.

He noticed the knight looking at them occasionally. It was clear that Raphael had, too. He appeared to be quite wary of him. Come to think of it- How had Raphael come across his powers? Why did he even have the armor, and why was it so similar to the one the other knight was wearing?

*

Raphael

It was a question he asked himself quite often. He knew from the moment these powers reached him that they were some sort of calling. A call for help perhaps, or an attempt of some dormant or unknown demigod to gain influence. Wondering about it didn’t help him at all. These were the powers of a Crucible Knight. He had seen them before, even fought alongside them… But what he felt- what his orders were.. They were nothing like what the Crucible Knights did. They were sworn to the Erdtree, not to life itself.

Despite his instincts telling him to stay away, he moved forward, warning Eitan with a nod. The warrior seemed to already know what he was about to do. “Take care” was all he said.

He approached the knight slowly. This time, he had decided to wear his helmet as well. Made of petrified wood as resilient as steel, and boasting two large antlers. It was quite intimidating -and heavy- but he’d have to get used to it. He couldn’t change it- nor could he fight against a Demigod without it.

Warriors and soldiers moved out of the way when he approached, bowing their heads slightly in submission, to avoid conflict most likely. The only ones that didn’t do so were the General’s knight, those of the land of reeds, who simply kept their eyes on him, and the knight he was approaching.

His stance didn’t betray fear. His arms were crossed, blade at his hip, and helmet on. His eyes were set directly on Raphael, at least that’s what it looked like with his helmet angled toward him.

“You are not initiated.” A feminine voice spoke from beneath the helmet.

Raphael was taken aback. Not because the knight was a woman. There were many female officers and soldiers in the Capital’s forces… He was mostly surprised because they shared the same height.

 

“Is that a problem?” Raphael asked flatly.

A circle had formed around them of people pretending not to listen in to their conversation.

“It could be, based on your actions.” She responded, moving to walk out of the courtyard.

He didn’t know if he should stay here or follow. She hadn’t given him any orders- should she have? And if she had, should he listen to her?

He shook his head, following the female Crucible Knight.

*

“You’re persistent, aren’t you?” She said evenly, setting a hand on her blade’s hilt.

“Should I not have followed you then?” Raphael asked. Soldiers still passed by them. They had walked to a less crowded part of the castle. For some reason she had chosen the kitchen.

“That depends on what you want from me.” The Crucible Knight said in response.

Why was she playing dumb? She should know why he approached her. What he wanted. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Calm down.” She warned, her hand moving from a resting position to one poised to strike.

“What-” He started as she laughed.

“Don’t tell me- You haven’t even begun to understand our powers have you? Can you not sense one's temperament? One’s emotions? You shouldn’t even be able to call forth the power of your sword- or the power lying within you.”

Raphael tensed, a jab to his pride. Without thinking, he willed his blade to show her its power, and so it did, glowing in that dull gold.

“Hm.. Do you expect that to be impressive? You were called hundreds of years ago, only to come back now that our…” She spoke with a fire he didn’t expect from her. Especially since he didn’t know her and was suddenly blamed for something he didn’t do. It soon faded, though.

“I was not even here hundreds of years ago.” Said Raphael, eliciting a tilt of the head. “That’s not possible. Our order- we gathered to call another of our kind….” She brought her hand to her helmet- probably attempting to find her chin but realizing she was wearing her armor. Instead- she pretended to be checking something out on her gauntlet.

“I have said more than enough to you then. Are you simply an impersonator? You can’t be… Your arms.. Feel real.”

“A call from what felt like life itself found me a few months ago.. That is all I have to explain my current situation. I was hoping you could help me understand more.” He said, simply hoping for any form of help. He hated to admit it, but ever since Soralis left- only a few days ago, he’d felt alarmingly alone. Even though Eitan was right there. Brother, he called him, but he couldn’t help but feel distant after what happened. He’d gotten himself all angry too, yelling at him, all for someone who didn’t appreciate his efforts as well.

There I go praising my actions again, as if the others didn’t have their own problems to begin with.

After a few moments of consideration, the Crucible Knight sat down on a chair she had a soldier bring her with a wave of her hand. Somehow- she had authority here. It would make sense for the Redmanes to value strength, and she had to be strong to be in that armor and walk as she did.

The soldier brought one for Raphael as well. He thanked the man curtly before taking a seat. This hardly felt private. He had assumed they left the courtyard so they could speak without anyone hearing or interfering-

“I have no need for secrecy.. Our order is one known across the land.. Our motives- not so much.. But it would make no difference if they were known.” She started, raising a finger as Raphael went to speak his mind. “I can feel your intent, not read your thoughts. You should be able to do this too. You will be, with time.. For just a few months after your calling, you’ve adjusted better than any I’ve known.”

“Can we not speak normally?” Asked the knight, laying back in his chair.

“If that should bring you more comfort, we shall.” Said she, bringing her hands up to her helmet and taking it off, golden locs falling upon her shoulders. Amber eyes studied him, a brow raising over one of them as he only stared at her. “Is it not customary to reveal one’s face to another when they have given you the same courtesy?”

The knight scrambled to take his helmet off- feeling perhaps a bit exposed in front of her. She spoke with an intimidating level of confidence that made him feel lesser.

“I see.” She said. “You’re no more than a child.” The Crucible Knight sounded disappointed, her face taking on a frown.

“You don’t seem much older than I am.” Raphael reasoned, and indeed she did not. She did have a certain air about her, one that no common folk would be in possession of, but other than that, she seemed to be around his age.

“I am.” She insisted. “I have walked the Lands Between since before your people worshiped Elden Lords.. Since before the Ancient Dragons were born… I was chosen soon after the Crucible created all life. I am Chrysalia, a knight of the Crucible, and senior to you in our order.”

The knight was awestruck. A being that had lived for that long.. It didn’t seem like it. The only clue he’d have as to that would be her eyes that blazed with a fire quite similar to the gold of his powers. Of course- he didn’t continue to be awestruck, because why would a creature so old and -he assumed- wise, care about seniority.

“I sense disappointment from you.” She said evenly.

“Can you not do that?” He asked in frustration. “It’s weird.”

“I apologize.” Chrysalia responded. “I have not spoken to another person in a while… It must be… seventeen years now, I suppose.”

“What- why have you remained silent for that long?” Raphael leaned in suddenly, eliciting a scary glance from Chrysalia, but she must have realized he didn’t mean her any harm as she settled back down.

“There was no need for words for a while.” She explained. “I shall tell you of my current task. One you could take up as well… Only… It seems hopeless..”

“How so?” Raphael asked, straightening.

“We used to serve the primordial Crucible… The seed of all life.. It used to tell us its wishes directly back then. Our duties mainly included protecting all that lived. We would generally put an end to conflict when it arose, mainly between humans, as they oft made their own reasons up in order to butcher one another.”

“That does sound like humans.” Raphael added, recalling no shortage of experiences of battles and wars he’d participated in.

Chrysalia continued, even though she appeared to be slightly annoyed at Raphael for cutting in. “Eventually, the Crucible- or whatever force started it all, departed from the land. We were left alone, and we truly tried to adhere to the code it left for us to follow… We tried to act as it would, yet I must say that our actions have not always been as it would see fit, and of that I am certain.”

She lowered her eyes as she continued. Perhaps memories she did not wish to recall? “We, too, were humans in the past, and thus we remain compromised, as humans are. We served many masters after our first, and have done many unspeakable things… Some of which you surely know of, as we served the Elden Lord Godfrey, and killed many in his name.. In the name of the Golden Order.”

“Those times are behind us now.” She stated, regaining her composure. “In the time that has passed since then, we have been looking for one of our own… Devonia left us when we swore our blades to the Golden Order.. She said she’d seek our master, since we were so hesitant to do so. I must say that I admire her for that… I wish I’d gone with her.”

“So… Our master is life.” Raphael noted, to which Chrysalia nodded, perking up suddenly as if distracted.

“Yes.. Some of us view it that way.” She responded, bringing her helmet to her lap, setting her hands on top of it. The knight took a moment to look at its features. It was a greathelm with axe-blade protrusions on the sides. He wondered why his own armor looked so different.

Chrysalia would respond. It was obvious, since her lips parted, but she said nothing. Respecting his earlier request. Instead, he spoke instead. He still had many questions.

“Why was I called- or.. Chosen? Out of everyone else in this world?” He asked. He wasn’t anything special. He wasn’t especially strong, smart, or good with words. He didn’t have a knack for anything, and didn’t really excel anywhere. He was just himself, and he was trying, even if he had tried many times under the wrong people, under the wrong ideologies… He’d tried.

“Historically… We have been called for different reasons. We all called you, together.. Before Devonia left, mainly to maintain our numbers as a force of sixteen knights in the Lands Between. Now as for why you were chosen, only the Crucible truly knows..”

Raphael must’ve looked disappointed with her reply, since she started speaking again right after he locked eyes with her.

“But when it comes to you.. I’d say that its because of your weariness toward war and bloodshed. You’ve killed. You’ve killed many people. Some deserving, and some not.. Yet you’ve never enjoyed it, no matter their sins.” She concluded as she wore her helmet again.
“Be proud that you were chosen. Something greater than us all, saw the greatness in you.”
Standing up, the Crucible Knight waved at him. She walked out of the kitchen and into the courtyard again, her wings forming, Raphael in tow.

“Wait- Chrysa-” He started, but with a powerful flap, she was gone, soaring in the skies.

He wanted to ask more.. Perhaps now was not the time. He still hadn’t found out what he was meant to do with himself. Nothing felt or sounded good enough.

He noticed Eitan walking up to him. “Are you alright, brother?.. That seemed important.”

The people in the courtyard were collectively watching the Crucible Knight fly across the sky. Some were staring at Raphael, who was still only holding his helmet at his side.

“It may be..” He muttered to the warrior, raising his helmet over his head, and sliding it down. He let out a huff, gathering himself. One step in front of the other again.

“Get any answers?” Asked Eitan, walking by him as everyone seemed to move through the castle. They must have started mobilizing as Raphael spoke to Chrysalia.

“Some, yes. Definitely not enough. I’ll tell you all about it once we’re done with this.” The knight promised, to which Eitan smiled.

*

Soralis

Mountaintop of the Giants

It took them days to reach the mountaintop. Since they had to avoid the capital lest they bring on needless bloodshed, they were forced to ascend the side of a mountain, missing out on the easier path provided from the side of the capital. Soralis jokingly thought that killing a few people would be better than having to scale the face of a cliff with hours on end without rest, but she retracted that statement whenever they found an overhang they could rest at.

Kale had taken the horses with him again, travelling through the spirit realm. That kept them all safe, and ensured that the horses would be well rested by the time they needed them again. It’d be ideal if they could also travel through the spirit realm- but according to Kale, humans were not like animals. It was second nature for an animal to travel through it- if a gate was presented, but a human had to learn how to spirit-walk. Too bad they didn’t have that kind of time. Another argument he presented was that they didn’t even need to travel through it. Folk like them could simply tough it out. For a moment there, Soralis jokingly thought about killing Kale, too. Sure, she could heal herself from almost anything, even fatigue. It still felt like hell to climb with nothing but her hands though.

‘That’s dishonest’ Eleonora had said. ‘We have our talons. It won’t be that hard.’

She had certainly gotten what was coming for her though. It wasn’t easy for her either. If heaving and out of breath on her knees was suddenly considered to be easy, then Soralis would definitely be wrong about that, but what mattered was that they made it, and so the huntress set her rage aside.

Snow. She was impartial about snow. She didn’t hate it, she didn’t love it. Sure, it was beautiful, fun to look at, but the practical truth was that snow could kill people. It made clothing wet, and when that happened in a place like this, death was sure to follow. It was a good thing that Kale had given them heavier- warmer clothing so they could dress appropriately. Coats and undershirts lined with wool. She wasn’t sure if the coat would provide more or less insulation when worn over her armor, but she still wore both of them. Felt like she needed them.

“Do you feel his call?” Eleonora asked suddenly, grounding the huntress.

She did. She did in fact feel the Demon’s call through the bond they all shared. Much like the one Eleonora and Soralis shared now that the Drake-Knight was severed from the others. Their bond was pure. Less forceful. When compared to the pure challenge the Demon exuded, it felt like a gentle tug.

“Yes..” She said, pointing forward, up a snowy hill. They were in a large ravine, cliffs on both sides, but they had reached the mountaintop. There was now a path that led further into the old Giants’ lands, and Eleonora knew the way. She had been here before.

“Good. We’re on the right path.” The drake-knight said, conjuring a ball of flame in her hand. To warm herself, Soralis assumed.

“I’ll follow your lead.” Said Soralis. Eleonora walked forward without question.

They walked from noon to sunset. Up here, the sun shone brighter, but did little to warm them- Or so Soralis thought until the sun actually set. It wasn’t long until she lit a flame of her own, which not only provided warmth, but also lit the way. Thanks to it; they avoided stepping on frozen lakes more than once.

Of course- they didn’t need to walk around all of them. Only the ones Eleonora didn’t trust. She had a way of gauging its safety by tapping it with her twinblade, but the huntress hadn’t asked what that told her. The forceful tug she felt deep within, the monster aching for a fight souring her mood. Destroying any topics of conversation that appeared in her head.
They had managed to walk out of the ravine. There was a sudden upward incline that looked much like a path carved into the cliff face. There wasn’t much to be seen up there. Only an endless white blanket covering everything. There was the occasional rock formation that peeked out of the snow, but other than that.. nothing. Just snow, and cold, and the promise of death to all who couldn’t keep warm.

Finally, the huntress felt like speaking. Out of discomfort, of course. Nothing else mattered up here. Even she- could die to the elements. Her fire wasn’t enough to warm her. If she used more she would simply deplete her reserves and die before the cold killed her itself. They needed a reprieve.

“Eleonora. Do you remember seeing any overhangs or caves around when you last visited this place?” She asked, extending an arm to stop the drake-knight.

“Soralis- we shouldn’t stop now, even if we get the chance to. Yes, we will have an opportunity to rest, but not here, and not now. Last time I was here, I was hunting a dragon… I couldn’t kill it. I barely survived the encounter. I strongly advise you to hold on. There is a fort on our way, but we might not reach it until sunrise.” Said the drake-knight, seeming averse to stopping. Not a breath later, she was moving again.

“I don’t think I can last until the sunrise.” Soralis responded. Since when was she so fragile? It was cold, but she could take it. Even if she used her fire to keep her warm, she could reasonably keep it lit until the sun rose… She could, couldn’t she? No. The cold was strong. It penetrated through skin, muscle and bone. It seeped through everything it touched, and it would not relent, it would kill them both. Not unless they fled into a cave and spent the night there. Then- with the morning sun, they could continue. Yes. That was so.

“There is a cave nearby. I know it. We should take the safest route, and this is it. We’re going into the cave.” Soralis ordered, pulling Eleonora back once more.

“Soralis-.. What cave? What are you talking about? We’re just fine. We’ll be just fine for over a day as long as we keep moving. What’s gotten into you?” Eleonora responded, her eyes laced with worry.

“Are you disobeying me?” The huntress spat. What was she saying? Eleonora would never disobey her. She was only questioning her. Truly- where had she seen a cave? What cave was she talking about? There was no cave.

“No-...” The drake-knight said with absolute certainty. She stood still and watched over the huntress, as if trying to discern whether or not she was sick. “But there is no cave, nor do we need one.”

Soralis watched herself react in anger, hurling the ball of fire in her hand toward a cliff face that had been snowed over. The red ball of flame exploded when it came in contact with the snow. A massive amount of it melted. The night came alive. For a single moment, it was as bright as day and there- after the snow melted away, there was the cave. A gaping maw waiting for them to enter. Promising warmth and safety.

“There it is.” Soralis said suddenly as she began walking toward it.

Eleonora went to protest this again. “Even though there is a cave, we-”

“Do not speak another word.” The huntress cut her off, pulling her by the arm violently. “I have my reasons for taking us there.”

Could she recognize this person as herself? Was this person herself? She couldn’t remember if she ever acted this way or not. In fact- where was she from? Why was she even here? All she knew was that there was a cave, and she had to walk into it. She had to traverse its depths, not to stay safe, but to find whatever called her to it, and become its food. What?

The thought dissipated, and she had no recollection of what had just slipped into her mind. There was a cave, and she had to find refuge there. Yes. That was what she had to do.

*

The melted snow had already frozen over, becoming a slippery surface. Soralis resorted to melting it again, since wet rock was easier to walk on than ice was.

“How did you know this was here?” Eleonora asked, to which Soralis didn’t respond with anger this time, to her own surprise.

“I don’t know… Intuition, I think? I could just.. feel it. I knew there was a way for us to keep warm.” She responded, not even believing herself.

“Well… If you really want to do this.. We’ve got a descent ahead of us..” Said the drake-knight before sending a stream of fire down the cave. There was a sudden drop ahead of them filled with sharp rocks and jagged edges. A person would have to be insane to call this ‘safe’. It wasn’t a good idea by any means. Under different circumstances, Soralis would be embarrassed of herself. This time.. she just said..

“Let’s jump.”

*

Fortunately, the landing wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Giant ice spikes lay at the bottom, angled as if set deliberately, aiming to kill anyone that fell- or jumped in that way. Soralis noticed them in time and blasted them away with her flames. Not melting them- but completely misting them with a satisfying hiss.

Eleonora landed a moment later, powerful legs absorbing the impact without issue. The drake-knight glanced around herself. Her armor clanking under her heavy coat. She brought gloved hands together for warmth as she investigated the cave.

The air hung heavy in here. A sign of a powerful presence- A sign of some form of magic being used.

“I am being compelled to venture deeper…” The drake-knight said suddenly.

“Funny thing. I think this has been happening to me since before we entered.” Soralis admitted. Eleonora simply nodded, saying nothing else regarding the matter.

“We could ignore it. Intense focus can cause the mind to ignore such commands. I doubt that whatever managed to get a hold of us, even for a small time period, is stronger than us.” She suggested, looking up the way they came from.

Soralis would agree. They could simply scale the drop again. Bloodflame talons, just as they’d done to scale the mountain. It wouldn’t be difficult, and this little detour would not cost them much time at all. The huntress went to speak- but even if she did, she would not be heard. She wouldn’t even know what she was saying as a deafening wave of sound hit them both.

Heightened senses were assailed by the noise- by the pressure- the power. This was the cry of a powerful dragon. One that had been awakened from its slumber. One that did not take kindly to being disturbed. The huntress pinpointed its location to just outside the cave. Debris started falling toward them- around them. A rock made its way toward them but both of them answered it with explosive fire, having it shatter into countless harmless pieces. The dragon was forcing its head through the cave, trying to get at them. It let out sharp shrieks, complaining as if the two of them had ruined a good night’s sleep. The hatred with which it hunted them though, did not seem warranted.

“Only one way to go now.” Said Soralis

“That would be true.” Said Eleonora as she brought forth her twinblade, edges brimming with flames. “Know that this beast will not relent.. We will have to fight it eventually.. Victory will require both of us, giving it all.”

 

“When do I not give it all?” Soralis asked, not expecting an answer.

Eleonora rolled her eyes. At her confidence? Or her unchanging arrogance? She didn’t need to know.

*

The inside of the cave wasn’t too different when compared to being outside. Sure- it was warmer, and yes, there wasn’t any snow, but there was a lot of ice somehow, crusting the walls and ceiling. They walked a long stretch in a straight line as there was nowhere else to go, until they found an open area.

Oddly enough- this place seemed lit, though by some unknown force, since there was no opening in the ceiling, and no palpable object that could produce light. The huntress put her flame out. So did Eleonora. This was odd.

There were animals here- plants, lush green, growing with no care in the world. Probably with no inkling of the fact that a lifeless wasteland surrounded them. Soralis had seen these plants before. There were Rowa Bushes- Red Rowa bushes. These could not survive the cold. Not at all, but they still grew here- somehow.

That wasn’t even the biggest oddity. There was running water- a pond great enough for all animals to drink from. There were deer, hares, boars, and- wolves. They all passed by each other as if it wasn’t even a problem that predators lived among them. The wolves themselves seemed to care little for the fact that their food just strutted by.

“Safe?...” Soralis asked.

“Doubt it.” Eleonora responded.

“Thought so… Might not even be real.” Said the huntress.

The drake-knight nodded.

They carefully jumped down to the level where the pond was. This room was being held up by various pillars. It was large enough for at least a few dozen animals to live in comfortably. It was beautiful, really. But more than anything, curious.

Soralis walked by the pond. The water was actually not frozen, despite the cold. Even though it trickled down through a crack in the ceiling, it should freeze at this temperature, but it didn’t. It remained as it was. It served its purpose and was used by the animals- to give life.

Even the huntress wasn’t a problem to the creatures living here. A deer approached her, curious eyes gazing at her intently, yet without fear, without wariness. Deer were never like that. She reached a hand out toward it. The animal tilted its head, then lapped at her glove once, twice.

“Soralis..” Eleonora warned. She still stood close by, just in case. It wouldn’t do them good to stray too far apart from each other.

Soralis however didn’t see any danger here. Was it that mind altering effect again? She wasn’t sure- she just wanted to stay here with this deer. It couldn’t harm her. There was no reason to fear it. There was no reason to fear anything at all in this cave. All was good. All was peaceful. She found herself smiling, yet at that moment, the deer suddenly paused, looking around. What was wrong? Nothing could be wrong.

Footsteps crunching something beneath them. Something the huntress couldn’t see. The footsteps grew numerous- sounded faster. She should turn around to see what was happening but why would she? She’d be safe. Perhaps there’d be even more deer.

A force suddenly pulled her back- back to her feet. She had knelt- why would she do that? Why would she be so vulnerable in such a dangerous situation?

Suddenly the lights went out. The only thing Illuminating the room was Eleonora’s fire.
“Soralis. We’re not alone.” The drake-knight explained the situation to her.

The huntress’s piercers appeared in her hands. A ball of fire levitated over her, providing more light. The animals.. Perhaps they had once been here.. Only in the past, though. They only lived in the past. Now… They were nothing more than the footing beneath them. Bones… a sea of bones was all around them.. That and Demons from the darkest pits of the world.

“Okina’s disciples..” Eleonora muttered.

“What?” Soralis asked. She didn’t know anything about this. The Demon had people training under him? These were his kinsmen, warriors of the katana from the Land of Reeds, just like Yura.. They didn’t seem to be touched by the cursed blood.. At least- they weren’t calling to her as any other finger would.. In addition to that, she could not see their faces. They wore demon masks under their helmets.

Before she could think any further, one of them moved- a katana moving with unerring precision, slashing right for her neck. Soralis stepped back, barely dodging it. The other two moved closer, on either side of their ally. They covered each other. The huntress wouldn’t have a chance to attack- not unless Eleonora covered for her.

She trusted that she would, so she stepped back, positioning herself right next to the drake-knight. As they moved ever forward, Soralis nearly made another move, but Eleonora held her back with her hand. She was planning something.

The disciples tensed as they must have caught on to the scent of sulfur. It signalled danger to them, as it would to any warrior. Not even a moment later, Eleonora erupted with fire. A steady stream of it being emitted from just outside her mouth. The drake-knight roared as flames chased after the disciples. This was it- her chance. They had been forced to scatter. One of them was isolated.

A burst of bloodflame and she was upon him. Somehow- he managed to slash at her despite her speed, but she called forth her talons to catch the blade. Then, she sent her piercer away and pushed him back against the wall with enough force to knock him out. The man slammed into the wall with a grunt, causing the ice on it to crack and collapse, falling on top of him.

His mask fell off of his face.. She saw it- only for a moment, but it was undeniable. His eyes were purely white.. Discoloration- or a change in color, often meant that there was magic at work.. To her- this indicated something. Something serious.

“Eleonora!” She cried out to the drake-knight who was fighting off the other two at the same time, twinblade moving expertly to deflect any and all attacks- on either side. “They’re being controlled- Try not to kill them until we fi-” Something whizzed toward her. The huntress turned, but it still hit her. She stumbled back, pain spreading through her arm, starting at her elbow joint. An arrow. It had flown right through her and lodged itself into the ground. There were four of them.

*

She didn’t have eyes on the bowman, nor could she exactly pinpoint his location. She couldn’t waste time to find where the arrow had landed- and she had altered its course with her turn. Would it be more dangerous if she allowed him his cover until they defeated the others- or should she go for him, and leave Eleonora up against two warriors at the same time. She couldn’t think too much about it, and she wouldn’t. A burst of bloodflame had her flying toward the other corner of the room. There was no one there. Another arrow flew toward her. She didn’t have time to move- she couldn’t alter her course. It had been fired in wait for her to end up where she did- It found her in the gut. Soralis cried out and slammed against the wall. No.. She’d seen where it came from- there was only one more possible place for him to be. She had to disarm him before he could harm Eleonora.

Pulling the arrow out of herself came easy. What was difficult was moving despite the pain- but it had to be done. With so much blood lost- she could not push herself forward with her flames again. Despite that- she still had something else going for her in this dire situation. No matter how much she got hurt- she’d survive unless it was her head that was shot.. In this case- a trained archer would not go for the head, lest they miss. The body was a much more viable option. It was this that she was betting on, for this was a bet on her life that she took consciously with every step toward the darkness.

She walked at first. Her walk then turned into a run.

Steel your mind. It was as if he would always be with her. The words drilled into her with how many times she’d heard them. If she always followed this advice- if she always lived by it, she could never lose.

She heard the arrow being nocked, the bowstring being pulled back. Her body didn’t tense despite that. She welcomed it, knowing full well that when that arrow was loosed it would most likely hit her.

The arrow flew, the bowstring flashing back to its original position. These sounds did not lie. Her death or salvation was near. She knew not just by sound, but by vision that the arrow came for her. She had picked the right direction. The archer was there, hiding in the darkness ahead.

The arrow found her in the collarbone, digging through it and lodging itself there- stopped by sturdy bone. Pain shot through her in alarm, but her mind was shut off to it. She saw the archer. She extended her arm. The huntress smiled. Soralis The Pale Finger would not die so easily. She was so far beyond this one person. So far beyond the force that had brought her here.