Many thanks to @BinaryApotheosis for betareading and fact-checking.
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Contagion
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"Who… who are you? What are you?"
"I am Parvati-9, young man. As to what I am… I'm not quite sure. My friend here tells me I'm a Lightbearer. What are you doing here? Do you know where your family is?"
"…Dad was out scavenging when the Fallen came."
"Fallen?"
"The aliens. Mom's… not around anymore."
"I see. When do you expect your father to return?"
"Tonight. If he's still alive."
"Well, then, until tonight I suppose I know one thing I will be. I will be your guardian until he returns."
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"Thou knowest this man, then?" Atrebal asks, gently putting their burden—D?—down. I study the man's pale, thin face. I didn't see what D looked like under his gold-and-silver armor when we encountered him in Limgrave, so I have no idea if it's really him.
Rogier doesn't answer Atrebal for a moment as he kneels down beside the body. He brushes his hands against the man's pale neck, feeling for a pulse, then over his chest to feel for a heartbeat. If the touches look a little more tender than strictly necessary for a medical examination, I don't feel a need to comment. "He's the spitting image of D," Rogier says softly. "But… I do know D has a brother, one I never met. It's…
possible this is he, instead of the man I know. Regardless, he is still alive." He looks up at Atrebal. "You intend to bring him to the surface?"
"Aye. Such are mine orders."
"D said he was going to talk to someone in Caelid, right?" I ask.
"Yes. Gurranq, the Beast Clergyman." Rogier's head suddenly whips around to stare at me with wide eyes. "Barrett, if the Greater Will itself is the enemy… Gurranq may have reacted to its change in strategy in some way."
"Trinovar was—
is—sworn to Marika's family," I point out. "It didn't seem to drive
him crazy."
"Gurranq is not human," Rogier says. "I do not know what he
is, exactly, but they call him the Beast Clergyman for a reason. It is possible he is more like Blaidd than like Trinovar."
I grimace. "And we saw what happened to Blaidd."
"Just so."
"Then even if this is your friend D's brother, and not D himself," Yura observes, "that does not mean your fellow is in any way safe."
"No," Rogier says. "No, it does not. Barrett—is there anything you can do to help this man?"
I consider the pale figure. He looks thin, but not emaciated. He looks like he's been like this for a matter of days, a week or two at most. I don't want to assume that, though. Not given how weird and unreliable mortality is in the Lands Between. "Winchester," I say, holding out my hand, palm up. My Ghost appears above my fingers. "See what you can figure out about whatever's wrong with him?"
"On it," Winchester says, beginning to scan the man.
"What manner of creature is that?" Atrebal asks.
"That's Winchester. He's my Ghost. We're partners. I keep him safe, he gives me power."
"That's a simplistic way of looking at it," Winchester grunts without looking away from the body.
"Call it shorthand," I say. "Anything?"
"Mm. Yeah." He stops scanning and turns to look at me. "Be right back."
"What?" I ask, but Winchester is already darting away, zipping around Millicent and slipping inside Blaidd's tent.
"What?" she asks, looking in after him. "Winchester?"
"One minute," my Ghost says. "Scanning."
Millicent looks at me. I just shrug.
"Doth he perhaps think that what troubleth this man is the same as what troubleth thine other companion—Blaidd?" Atrebal asks me. "Thou saidst that the influence of the Greater Will was being held at bay by that of the Scarlet Rot."
I blink. "But… what Outer Gods could be competing over D? Or D's brother, whichever he is?"
"I'll tell you what one of them is," Winchester says, emerging from Blaidd's tent. "Because, yeah, that's exactly what's going on. Paracausal tug-of-war, and Blaidd and this guy are the ropes. Pretty sure the Greater Will is on one end of them both—but the other side is different. Couldn't say beyond that."
"Any idea how long he's been like this?" I ask.
"Can't you guess?" Winchester grunted. "A couple of days. Same as everything else. But I think he was already… deteriorating, before that point. He shows signs of malnutrition or starvation going back a few weeks, at least. But until two days ago, he was at least conscious. It's only about then that serious muscle atrophy started."
"Shit. And we don't have a way to help the other side beat the Greater Will this time?"
"Nope. Not sure that would even help." Winchester looks down at the pale man. "After all, Blaidd's not catatonic. Something else is going on with this guy. Might have something to do with whatever god is on the other side of the equation. I will say—he's cold."
"Hm?" Rogier says. "We have blankets."
"Might be a good idea. His body temp is way below normal," Winchester says. "Low enough that I'm surprised we're seeing cardiac activity at all."
I nod at Rogier. "Get him in a tent and under some blankets. I need to think."
"Should we not get to the surface quickly?" Yura asks.
"I want to wait until we hear back from the Ancestral Followers," I say. "You all get some sleep. Winchester and I will keep watch."
"You've not slept since descending into Nokron," Millicent protests. "One of us can—"
"I'll be fine," I cut her off. "I need to talk to Winchester anyway, and he can keep the symptoms of sleep deprivation at bay for a good while. Seriously, Millicent, get some sleep while you can. I'll wake you if Blaidd needs attention. Assuming he doesn't wake you himself."
She hesitates, then sighs. "Very well."
As the group goes into their tents, Atrebal clears their throat. "Forgive me, Barrett, but I did not pack a bedroll. Is there a spare stowed somewhere? If not, I can make a bed on the grass."
"Chester, can you fabricate something for them?" I ask.
"Sure." A flicker of blue light as the glimmer is programmed, and there's a bedroll on the ground between a couple of tents. "Don't think you need shelter from rain, down here. I can get you a tent when we're back on the surface."
Atrebal blinks at the bedroll for a moment, then gives Winchester a respectful nod. "I thank thee, kind Ghost."
They start stripping out of their armor, exposing the cottony undergear beneath, as Winchester provides some kindling in the center of a makeshift firepit. I set it alight with a momentary flare of Solar Light, unleashed with a snap of my fingers. Then I sit and gaze into the flames, one ear pricked for the sound of anyone or anything approaching, as Atrebal settles onto their bedroll. After a few minutes, their breathing evens out.
"Talk to me, Winchester," I say, quietly enough to avoid waking anyone. "What happens if we use Lumina on the guy?"
"Best case, it purges the influence of both Outer Gods," said Winchester. "But I'm not about to bet on that. Lumina's been inconsistent, and we still don't know the rules."
I nod. "My thoughts exactly. You got any guesses?"
Winchester is silent for a long moment, hovering a couple feet away, his electric-blue eye fixed on the fire. "Millicent is the key here, I think," he says. "Call it a gut feeling. Even if I don't have a gut. I think the default behavior of Lumina is still the same as it's always been—purge and purify paracausal influences. Worked with Rogier. Worked with Radahn. But it
didn't work with Millicent. I think the reason is something to do with her."
"You think she has any idea what it is?"
"If she did, I think she'd have told us by now," he says. "I'm pretty confident, at least, that she
didn't know when we were in Sellia, and she first heard that the Rot was still somewhere inside her. If she's figured it out since then, maybe. But I'm not sure what…" He trails off.
"What?"
"Radahn…" he says. "Didn't he mistake Millicent for someone else? Melina's sister?"
"Malenia." My metal brow shifts as I frown in concentration. "She's the Empyrean who unleashed the Scarlet Rot on Caelid in the first place. Melina said… what was it exactly? That she was
bound to the Scarlet Rot somehow."
"Right, she said that all the Empyreans, except maybe her brother, were tied to one of the Outer Gods," he says. "And, yeah, Malenia was tied to the Rot. And Millicent is her spitting image. But Melina didn't know what her relation to Malenia was, and nor did Millicent. How'd that happen?"
"And what
is their relation?" I shake my head. "Wait. Step back. Let's theorize—what happens if we use Lumina on
Malenia?"
"I've got no way of knowing," Winchester says. "Not like I've had a chance to scan the woman."
"Guess. Talk me through it."
"It depends on what exactly the relationship between the Empyreans and their would-be patron gods is." His flaps shift. "And how strong it is. But if that relationship is less like Hive poison clinging to someone, and more like the bond between a Lightbearer and his Light…"
"Then Lumina wouldn't do anything," I finish for him. "Because at that point it's not a paracausal
contagion. It's a part of the person's identity. Built into them."
"…Seems likely. But where does that leave Millicent?" He looks over at the tent where she and Blaidd are—hopefully—both sleeping. "Lumina
did do something, even if it didn't cure her."
"Let's assume that
was the Rot talking to us when we tried to use Lumina on her," I say. "What did it say? Did you happen to record it?"
"Probably. Let me check." He's silent for a moment. "Yeah, here we are."
A moment later, Millicent's voice emerges from his shell—Millicent's voice, but with none of her warmth, her determination, her innocence, her
humanity.
"Thou knowest not what thou hast done."
My own voice, then.
"Starting to suspect that. Care to elaborate?"
Then the Rot once more:
"Thou hast inserted thyself into a thing thou dost not understand. A struggle for power and identity where thou knowest neither the combatants nor the stakes. A conflict with no victors—only he that loseth existence, and he that loseth himself. But thine aimless stumbling… hath offered opportunity. It may yet offer more. Let it not be said that the Rot is not a gracious god to him that offereth service, even unwitting."
The voices fall silent. For a long moment, Winchester and I both sit quietly, turning the words over in our heads.
Then Winchester says what we're both thinking. "What conflict was it talking about?"
"The war over the Elden Ring, maybe?" I suggest. "Maybe the Outer Gods are all vying to have
their Empyrean be the one that takes Marika's place."
"But what does curing Millicent have to do with that? And obviously that conflict
does have a victor—whichever god gets their Empyrean on the throne." He looks over at me. "Let's think through all the times we've come into contact with the Rot—the god, not the effect."
"I think it's just the one," I say. "When it spoke through Millicent. Even that time I
died to the Scarlet Rot when we were fighting the infected dragon, the entity that contacted me wasn't the Rot. It was the Frenzied Flame." I remember the dragon's silhouette in my mind, composed of writhing tongues of yellow fire.
"Right. Even at the time, I wondered why the hell the Frenzied Flame would show up when you were killed by the Rot."
I rub my chin, thinking back. "The Frenzied Flame," I whisper. "The Yellow Fire. Yellow… Winchester, why do most of the people we've met in the Lands Between have golden eyes?"
"What?" He blinks his eye at the apparent non-sequitur.
"Humor me. You got any idea?"
"…Let's assume, for the sake of argument, that it's
not simple genetics," he says. "Could it be an indicator that someone's carrying Runes?"
"Could be. But hear me out. We've heard a lot of mention about this concept of 'Grace'. The 'Grace of Gold.' Melina said that the Tarnished had lost their Grace, and that it was returned to them when they came back to the Lands Between. But no one's really explained what Grace
is."
"She and Rogier both mentioned the 'guidance' of Grace," Winchester says slowly. "She said something about it leading the Tarnished to their destiny."
"But we're paracausal, and so are most of the people we've met," I say. "To one extent or another, at least. We know that paracausal beings don't
have destiny in the traditional sense. So what is this grace actually doing?"
"…Setting a path out for them. Pointing them where
something wants them to go. Top candidate: the Greater Will."
"Rogier said he'd lost sight of the guidance of Grace," I say. "Didn't he also say something about faith?"
"He did," Winchester says. "He mentioned that a friend of his still could see the guidance, and theorized that it was because his friend was still 'faithful' and he wasn't. That friend was probably D."
"So. The guidance of Grace is a tool the Greater Will and/or the Golden Order use to steer the people who follow them in the direction they need to go. A voice for them to hear."
"The best voices…" Winchester murmurs. "Okay. Say you're right about all this. Lotta guesswork, but it fits. That doesn't explain why Rogier has golden eyes."
"His are definitely more faded than Melina's," I say. "But good point. Still, let's assume it's a gradient. Say Rogier still has
some Grace, but not enough to see the guidance anymore."
"Sure. For the sake of argument."
"Then let's look at who
doesn't have golden eyes."
Winchester pauses, thinking. "Blaidd had dark eyes before all this."
"Right. So did Godrick's soldiers.
"When the Rot spoke to us through Millicent, she had red eyes."
"And now she has one red eye. And Gowry had yellow eyes. And…" I pause, thinking back, straining. "What color were Millicent's eyes
before we used Lumina?"
Winchester is silent for a long moment. "They weren't red," he finally says. "I… think they were somewhere between gold and… yellow."
"But she was infected with the
Scarlet Rot. And we
know that the Rot gives her red eyes, because that's what it did when it literally spoke through her, and what it's doing now when she's covered in growths of it. So why the hell would she have
yellow eyes?"
"…They call the Frenzied Flame the 'Yellow Fire', right?" Winchester asks. "You don't think…"
"There's a connection between the Scarlet Rot and the Frenzied Flame," I say. "That's why I had a vision of the Frenzied Flame when the Rot killed me. I'm confident saying that much. There's a
link between those two gods."
"But what kind of link?" Winchester asks.
"I have a guess," I say softly. "Think, Chester. Assume there's some kind of particularly tight connection between Millicent and Malenia. Maybe Millicent
is Malenia with amnesia, maybe she's a clone, maybe she's an astral projection. Doesn't matter. Assume Millicent functionally
is the Scarlet Rot's Empyrean, and that the connection between her and the Rot is too tight for Lumina to disrupt. So
what does it disrupt instead?"
"…Your dream," Winchester whispers. "The hand being split. Three fingers lighting on fire—
yellow fire. Two turning gold."
"Lumina did exactly what it was supposed to," I say. "It burned away a paracausal contagion, purified what it hit. But the Rot wasn't a contagion on Millicent.
The Frenzied Flame was a contagion on the Scarlet Rot."
"Barrett Twelve?"
I turn away from the fire to see a figure approaching, wearing the simple headdress of one of the lower-ranked Ancestral Followers. "I have found thee," he says. "I bring word from the Shamans. We shall join thee. We shall not abandon our groves, but neither shall we abandon those sundered from the Ancestors. We Who Follow shall see the sky again."