Empyrean [Elden Ring/Destiny]

[Lithos Maitreya]

Many thanks to @BinaryApotheosis for betareading and fact-checking.

-x-x-x-

55

The Base of the Erdtree

-x-x-x-​

"Look—look, husband mine! Thou hast a daughter. Crowned in gold, and brown of eye."

"See how she looketh about—no tears for this young numen, only curiosity! Thou shalt be wise, one day, shan't thee, little one? What shall be her name, wife mine? What name shalt thou give to this curious child of ours?"

"…Marika. My daughter's name shall be Marika."

-x-x-x-​

The Daybreak speeds over the Lands Between. We're not going too high, only a few hundred yards above the top of Castle Stormveil.

A Guardian jumpship only has comfortable room for one occupant in its cabin, but there's a surprisingly large hold—usually filled with glimmer and any artifacts we can't risk digitizing—and that hold does, it turns out, have room for a lion, three men in full gear, and an Exo. Melina, unfortunately, has to go incorporeal.

That bothers me more than I'd like to admit. I want to be there with her, while she experiences flight for the first time. I want to see her eye reflecting the world below as it glides beneath us like a river flowing past. I want to see the wonder on her face. But what else is new? You'd think, by now, that I'd be used to it—to not being able to hold her when I want to, touch her, feel her warmth. At least I know she's here with us, that even if I can't see her, she's experiencing this right with the rest of us.

We can see the world below. The windows in the hold are small, and not placed ideally for a view of the world below, but they're there. Rogier, Yura, and Trinovar squeeze around them, watching the Lands Between, the only world they've ever inhabited (Yura's earlier life in the distant Land of Reeds notwithstanding) passing away below them, far enough away that even the biggest problems seem small.

That's what flight is. I still remember my first flight to the City. I'd fought my way through what felt like an army of Eliksni, digging my way out of the collapsed ruins of the Austin Metropolis, starting in the depths of the burrows in the undercity all the way up to the rubble-spires jutting like shattered teeth into the sky. It was right at the tip of one of those broken skyscrapers, on what must once have been a private landing pad, that I'd found the Lonestar. And once I'd taken off and started the long flight south to the City, once I'd seen those ruins pass away beneath and behind me… I'd understood something then, for the first time, even if I couldn't put it into words yet.

There's something profoundly humbling about seeing the obstacles that seemed insurmountable mere minutes ago pass away under you like insects crawling in the dirt beneath the shadow of a raptor's wings. I say humbling, because I am not that raptor. I'm one of those insects—I just happen to be the one riding the raptor's wings.

It was a little different for me. I was an Exomind—the pinnacle of human technology, in some ways—riding a human contraption to escape alien enemies. The weight on my shoulders that made me feel small was the weight of legacy. Of history. Of the knowledge that I was just one distant heir to a dynasty and civilization that had long since passed its golden age, and that we might never even brush against those heights again.

For Rogier, Yura, and Trinovar, today? For Melina, clinging unseen to me through that strange connection she forged between us through Grace, all those months ago? The weight they're feeling is the knowledge that their entire civilization, everything built by the Golden Order and all its predecessors, is encapsulated in that little world of small things below them.

Obviously, the reality isn't that simple. This world has done things with paracausality that the Gensym Scribes will be studying for centuries. Micah-10 will have a field day with the way they use their faith in incantations.

But here in the Daybreak, watching the world pass below? It's easy to lose sight of that. Just like it was easy to lose sight of the Light thrumming just under my titanium skin as I watched the Fallen pass away beneath me, all those decades ago.

I watch us pass Castle Stormveil, and drift over the unfamiliar marshes of Liurnia. I watch the Dectus Cliffs slip away. I watch the golden grasslands of the Altus Plateau glide away beneath us. And then—

"—vati-9 to Daybreak. Come in, Daybreak." The familiar voice of my fireteam's oldest and probably wisest member suddenly breaks into the hush of the hold. Then, from the cabin, I hear Thermidor reply.

"Parvati!" he says. "This is Thermidor. I'm approaching Leyndell with Barrett-12 and additional passengers. Do you have a clear landing site?"

"Confirmed," Parvati says. "Approach the city on a direct course. The Finite Samsara is currently in… drydock, I suppose, near the base of the Erdtree. Set down nearby."

"Understood," Thermidor says. "See you soon." A moment later, he calls back to me. "You get all that, Barrett!"

"Bit hard not to, with how loud you've got those speakers!" I reply. "You play your nasty modern music on that volume, you'll blow out your eardrums, young man!"

He laughs. "It's damn good to have you back, you old bastard."

I grin. "Same to you, kiddo."

-x-x-x-​

A few minutes later, I feel the jolt as the Daybreak touches down. After another moment, the cargo bay doors slowly slide open, and my friends and I tumble out.

My first view of Leyndell is dominated by gold. The pale gray stone, and the gilded, polished roofs, are all glittering in the reflected light of the Erdtree, practically blinding here at the center of the Lands Between.

But after my eyes adjust to all the gold, the second thing to catch my eye is the dragon. It's perfectly still, and perfectly lifelike—its scales appear to be made of stone, but I can't figure out at a glance whether its an incredibly detailed statue or a creature either made of or turned to stone. It has two sets of wings, and it is recoiling back from a spear of twisting golden metal poised as if being thrust towards its breast. And it's enormous. The dragon's wings aren't fully spread, but they still overshadow almost a tenth of the city.

"Prince Gransax," breathes Trinovar beside me. We're surrounded by soldiers, I notice as I look over at him, with armor better maintained than any of Godrick's troops from Limgrave, but they don't seem aggressive. Trinovar himself hasn't so much as glanced at them—his eyes are fixed on the dragon. "Of the line of Lord Placidusax—last warlord of the stone-scaled ancient dragons."

"Is that literally him?" I ask quietly.

"Aye," Trinovar says. "A true dragon of Farum Azula cannot be destroyed. Their stone scales are impervious to decay—to time itself. Even dead, the legacy of Gransax loometh large."

Loometh large indeed.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" a familiar voice—deep, and thoughtful, with a velvet texture layered over a diamond edge. I turn and meet Parvati-9's red eyes.

"You ain't wrong," I say. "Hey, Parvati. Good to see you. Sorry for the trouble."

She huffs a dry laugh as she approaches, her robes trailing around her legs. "Such is the lot of the Warlock," she says. "To go out and rescue the Hunter when he roams too far afield and loses his way."

I roll my eyes. "Right, right. The most responsible class, you Warlocks. As seen in the cases of Osiris, Toland, Shayra…"

She snorts. "Point taken." She turns and nods at Thermidor as he jumps down from the cockpit. "Well done finding our wayward friend. What is the status of the Lonestar?"

"Stolen," I say grimly.

"And the Daybreak isn't spaceworthy just yet," Thermidor says. "But my ansible is working, so we can get in touch with Crow and the others."

Parvati nods slowly. "At least we have such small mercies," she says softly. Then she turns to look up a long stairway towards a palatial building right at the base of the Erdtree.

I follow her gaze and see a familiar figure slowly making his way down the stairs. I only met him once, but he left an impression—clearly, given the sharp intake of breath I hear Rogier give beside me. He's massive, and horned, and wearing much finer veils and robes than the rags he wore at Stormveil—but he is unmistakable Margit, the Fell Omen, Rogier's erstwhile killer from the day the Tarnished and I met.

Before I can decide what to do with that, though, Parvati clears her throat. "Hail, King Morgott," she says. "Please, allow me to introduce my fellow Guardians—Lord Thermidor of Felwinter Peak, and the Gunslinger Barrett-12. And these, I gather, are Barrett's companions."

"And among them, a Tarnished," Margit/Morgott grunts—but he doesn't raise his staff to attack, just leaning heavily on it as he slowly makes his way down the stone stairs.

Parvati's eyes visibly widen as she turns to stare at Rogier. "…Ah," she says. "I… did not consider that possibility."

I step forward, putting myself between Rogier and the omen who killed him. "Hello again," I say. "Been a while. I hope we don't need to try and kill each other today."

Margit/Morgott—which is his real name? Both? Neither?—shakes his head. "Nay," he says. "So long as the Tarnished beside thee hath no ambition to steal the Elden Ring, he may be left unmolested here. For now. But thou, Lady Parvati, and thy fellows shall be his guarantors of good behavior."

"Of course, Your Majesty," says Parvati, bowing. She turns back to me. "Would you care to give introductions, then, Barrett?"

"Ah—could we get to a Site of Grace first?" I ask. "One of my friends can't… make herself known away from one. She couldn't fit in the hold. Not physically, anyway."

Parvati frowns at me. "Not… physically?" she asks.

"Long story."

"Come, then," the king says, beckoning us to follow. "I believe there is a Site of Lost Grace in the Queen's bedchamber."

The soldiers don't harass us as we pass them by, climbing up the stairs towards the building at the base of the Erdtree. The palace, I guess, if the Queen's bedroom is there.

We enter the large doors, then ascend another staircase and traverse a corridor until we come to a room near the back. In the room is a massive bedframe, although there doesn't seem to be a mattress on it anymore. There's also another door here, leading to a balcony. Connected to that balcony is another staircase, leading upward to a pavilion which I can see is right up against the gold-tinted trunk of the Erdtree itself.

And, yes, there's a Site of Grace near the center of the room. I approach, and when I'm a few paces away, I hear the soft twinkling chime as glittering blue dust coalesces into Melina beside me. I turn to her, but her eye is on the Omen. "Morgott," she says. "Son of Queen Marika. One of the Cloistered Twins."

Morgott—now I remember, Melina mentioned the name when she was giving me a crash course in the Lands Between months ago—blinks at her. "Aye," he says slowly. "And who art thou, Finger Maiden?"

"Not a Finger Maiden," Melina says. "I am Melina, Empyrean daughter of Queen Marika and Lord Radagon. Barrett made a pact with me many weeks ago to bring me to the base of the Erdtree, where I was born." She turns and smiles at me, golden eye sparkling. "But I hope you will not object if I continue to accompany you."

"Of course not, sweetheart," I say, returning her smile.

"Empyrean?" Morgott bends down to look closely at her. Even so, he looms over the rest of us. "Thy name still echoeth in the annals of this city, if thou'rt truly the lost Empyrean Melina. But 'twas said that thou wert killed ere the outset of the Shattering."

"I was," Melina said softly. "Seeking to preserve the Golden Order from a threat he did not understand, Prince Godwyn led me up to the Mountaintops of the Giants. There he…" she trails off, looking out the door towards the Erdtree. "He bade me help him build a bonfire," she whispered. "And then he cast me into it."

"Shit," Thermidor breathes. "He made you build your own pyre?"

She nods wordlessly.

Morgott sighs, leaning heavily against his staff. "Godwyn the Golden was much beloved by the people of Leyndell," he says. "It is… difficult to believe that he would do such a thing without cause."

"He had cause," Melina says. "He believed me to be a danger to the Golden Order—to the Erdtree itself. Just as my sister, Malenia, is connected to the Outer God of Scarlet Rot, I am connected to another Outer God. On the day I was born, a fire ripped through Leyndell. I have always been bound to flame. Godwyn saw this, and saw the prophecies that the Erdtree might once be burned by the forbidden flame, and thought to stop me from fulfilling what he believed to be my destiny."

"And yet, here thou stand'st yet," Morgott says. "And Godwyn lieth dead. All he hath achieved, it seemeth, is to give thee reason to want the Order he loved cast down."

Melina shakes her head. "No, King Morgott. I have no desire to burn the Erdtree. I may have little love for the Golden Order, but I have no desire to be a conqueror like our mother. I have no palate for warfare, for destruction. And…" she meets my eye. "Barrett tells me his people have a saying—that Guardians make their own fate." She turns and looks up at Morgott. "Mother came to visit my pyre, after I was burned. She told me the purpose she envisioned for me. She knew I was not entirely dead. And she said that it was her wish that one of my Empyrean siblings should find me, drag whatever remained of me to the mountaintop, and use me as kindling so that they could burn the Erdtree. So that they could claim the Elden Ring for themselves, and take her place as the god of the Golden Order."

Morgott flinches. "Thou liest," he says. But he doesn't sound accusing. He sounds defeated.

"I do not," she says. "Queen Marika, I suspect, burned the Erdtree herself when she claimed the Elden Ring at the dawn of the Golden Order. She knew it would be necessary again. The tree allows no entry, correct? There is no way to reforge the Elden Ring, even if all the Great Runes were gathered. Not without burning away the thorns which block passage."

Parvati blinks, turning sharply to Morgott. "Is this true, Your Majesty?"

"It is," he grunts. "My best-kept secret." He fixes Melina with a look. "I thought this was because I was unworthy—that my cursed blood was denied entrance, despite the Great Rune in my possession. But you believe that the thorns would deny passage to any who sought it?"

"They would," Melina says. She sounds certain. "If you do not believe me, allow me to approach the thorns with Barrett. I am Empyrean—he is a Shardbearer. If it will allow passage to any, it will allow it to us."

Morgott grimaces. "Very well."

She nods, brings her fingers to her lips, and whistles. Torrent appears beside her, and she mounts up. I walk beside them as Torrent plods, carefully making his way up those marble stairs as the King and the others follow us. We cross the pavilion, walking around the massive throne in the center. We ascend another flight of stairs, approaching the base of the tree itself.

And then we're stopped. There's a barrier of thick brambles, with a golden sigil hovering in the air before them, standing at the end of the path. We walk right up to it, then stop.

I glance up at Melina. "I could try burning them with Light," I offer.

She shakes her head. "Not without the King's permission," she says. "I still do not know whether he actually wishes us to achieve passage."

"Fair enough."

We turn and walk back down the stairs. The others, Morgott included, are waiting for us beside the throne. Morgott looks grim. "It appears thou speak'st truth," he says. "I cannot verify thy claim to being Empyrean, of course. But clearly it is not mine Omen blood which bars my passage, if the Shardbearer Barrett is also forbidden. And thou claimest Queen Marika wished the Erdtree burned?"

"She did," Melina says. "But I have no intention of being used as kindling."

"We might have other options," I say. "We Guardians could try using Solar Light to burn our way into the tree, maybe without damaging anything but those thorns?"

"I confess," Melina says, "I care little for the Elden Ring or the Erdtree. It was not for these things that we came to Leyndell. We came because our mother had many secrets, King Morgott. And we hope that some of those secrets may carry the key to saving Barrett's life, and the lives of two of our other companions."

"What's this?" Parvati asks sharply. "What have you gotten into this time, Barrett?"

"Radiolarian infection," I say grimly. "From radiolaria that exhibits resistance to Stasis, and is somehow connected to the Greater Will. Can we find somewhere to sit? It's a long story."

 

[NHO]

Ah. Peace and understanding and talking. Communication!

 

[Lithos Maitreya]

It is becoming increasingly clear that, even when I am actively trying to write, a chapter each of two different stories every week is just not entirely feasible for me these days. Work sometimes gets busy, and so do other things.

So I'm transitioning to every-other-week on both stories. As such, this coming chapter will not be up on Friday, but will instead be posted this coming Monday, December 16th. The chapter after that will be posted two weeks later, on the 30th.

I know this is disappointing—I'm disappointed—but I really have been getting closer to a sustainable pattern with each experiment this year in my writing schedule. I really am hopeful that this will be the final piece to the puzzle that makes it all work. I hope.

 

[Lithos Maitreya]

Many thanks to @BinaryApotheosis for betareading and fact-checking.

-x-x-x-

56

Fireteam

-x-x-x-​

"Hm? A Lightbearer? What brings you in search of my tower? Not your Great Hunt, surely? I gathered that was complete, and all my kind were long dead."

"Clearly. No—I am not here as a Lightbearer. I come merely as a whim, seeking the guidance of her elders."

"Oh ho? And how did you come into the Light, little whim? I think I shall find the answer among your entrails as I feast on your flesh!"

"I would not advise that, elder drake."

"And this is why you are the whim, and I the elder! Let that be your first and final lesson!"

"From you, at least. Ah, well."

-x-x-x-​

"Well." Parvati leans forward, elbows on the long table, steepling her fingers. Her luminous red eyes are narrowed, staring intensely at nothing. "This… changes matters."

I shrug. "Does it? What have you even been up to, up here?"

"Research," she says. "Trying to unravel the history of this world. To identify how humans first came here, when, and why. That remains a matter of curiosity, but it is no longer a priority. Besides—it is not difficult to hazard a guess as to how mankind arrived here."

"Vex experiment, you think?" I ask.

She nods. "The timeline does not entirely fit together—certainly, the Vex could alter the speed at which time flows on this world. This would explain why the history of these lands stretches back more than five millennia while the English dialects used here date back scarcely more than two. But the fact remains that, while the Vex certainly existed during Earth's antiquity, there is no indication that they were active in Sol until after the Traveler's arrival, the Ishtar ruins having likely been retroactively written into Venus' history." She jerks her head sharply, as if forcing herself out of the tangent. "It does not matter. It does not matter. For the foreseeable future, my research has only one goal—uncover a way to exploit whatever paracausality the Vex have managed to affix to their radiolaria."

"Exploit?" Thermidor asks.

"The radiolaria would have been transmuted to alkahest were it not in some way altered by paracausality," Parvati says. "There are two options. Either the radiolaria—or, perhaps, the suspending radiolarian fluid—have somehow become paracausal, or it has had some paracausal power used on it to alter its properties and give it further resistance to paracausal interference. Either option is dangerous. One is far worse. We must determine which is the case."

"You think it's possible that the radiolaria themselves are paracausal?" I ask, trying to ignore the cold pit that thought opens in my stomach.

"Possible? Yes," she says grimly. "Likely, however? No. If the Vex had managed to become themselves paracausal beings—to which that would be tantamount—they would have no need to study the people of this world. More to the point, we would all likely be dead. You realize that if the Vex were paracausal, they would likely be capable of true, unbounded time travel?"

"Wait," Thermidor says. "What?"

She nods. "The primary reason the Vex cannot affect the time streams of other living beings is simply that those time streams have been observed," she says. "Quantum principles of causality. But if the Vex were paracausal—capable of breaking the fundamental laws of causality—that problem would vanish. Paracausal Vex are not a dangerous concept because they could shoot us more effectively, they are a dangerous concept because they could murder every form of life in the universe before it became multicellular."

I shudder. "Okay. So—probably the Vex aren't paracausal here. So, where does that leave us?"

"At a guess," Parvati says, "I would assume that the Greater Will in some way enchanted or blessed the radiolarian fluid in the weapon that shot you, to make it resistant to paracausal influence. I assume you still have the rounds?"

"Yes." I produce the First Curse, sliding it across the table towards her. "Still loaded."

"Excellent." She picks it up carefully, snapping out the cylinder and looking down at the two rounds still in their chambers. "I will study these in the coming days."

"What hopest thou to discover, precisely?" Morgott asks. He sits on a larger chair, a little farther from the table than the rest of us. It doesn't stop him from looming over everyone. "If I understand thee, the 'para-causality' of which thou speak'st is little more than a word for all magic. Thou knowest that this fluid which infected thy companion hath been altered by magic. So what more hast thou to learn?"

"The nature of the magic which affected the bullets," Parvati says immediately. "Whether it is aligned to one of the paracausal 'poles' with which we Guardians are familiar—the Light or the Dark, perhaps, or even the Anthem Anatheme. If it is, we may be able to leverage our past experience dealing with those forms of power to deal with this problem."

"That reminds me," I say. "I've seen evidence of all three on this world. The Light, the Dark, and the Anatheme." I tell them about the Finger Reader in Caelid, Radahn and Uvyxes' Void Light, and Okina invoking Hive dogma.

Parvati looks grim. "Then clearly, we are not the first to enter this simulation from the outside," she says. "If nothing else, these Onyx and Alabaster Lords must have done so, at least if this Uvyxes spoke true."

"And the Hive, apparently," Thermidor says. "What brood, do you think?"

"The Blood of Oryx, if I had to guess," Parvati says. "Or a subsect. Xivu Arath would have latched onto this world like a hound with a bone, and Savathûn would have included it on her starcharts. But it's also possible that it was a renegade Onyx or Alabaster Lord who brought the worship of Sword-Logic to this place. We don't know, and the truth doesn't matter at present."

"I mean, it might," Thermidor says. "If the Dark was involved in modifying those radiolaria, tracking down the origin of Sword Logic on this world might matter."

"Yes," Parvati says, "but that is too many assumptions to make at present. First, I need to study this weapon."

"Well, I've committed to heading back to help the rest of Barrett's team in Liurnia while you all figure out how to cure the infection," Thermidor says. "Barrett, Winchester—I know you both gathered resources to repair the Lonestar. Think you can get the Finite Samsara's ansible working?"

"Should be able to," Winchester grunts, appearing over my shoulder in a flash of blue light. "I've got quite a few heavy metals stashed in hammerspace, and the Daybreak has a working engram decoder. Depends on what's wrong with the ansible, but we should be able to do almost anything short of a total rebuild."

Thermidor nods, standing up. "I'm not leaving you all unattended," he says. "Come on, Chester, Vishnu. Let's get this thing working."

"With your leave, Your Majesty," Parvati says smoothly, looking at Morgott. "Our Ghosts are… vulnerable, without a Guardian to watch over them, and the sooner my ansible is repaired, the sooner my fireteam is able to coordinate our work throughout the Lands Between."

"And to call in support from thy fellows from elsewhere among the stars," Morgott points out darkly.

"Yes," Parvati admits freely. "That as well. We are not your enemies, Your Majesty, and nor shall the rest of the Guardians. We are sworn to defend humanity, not to rule them."

"And doth that mandate extend to creatures such as I?" Morgott asks. "To creatures such as the misbegotten of this city, the demi-humans of Limgrave, the albinaurics of Liurnia?"

"Our definitions are loose," Parvati says. "All of us in this room qualify as human by the standards of the Last City. So would any others on this world who can live in peace with the rest. We are not your enemies."

"And how shall I trust this?" Morgott asks. But his tone isn't accusing—it's tired. "I am king in Leyndell—last king in Leyndell, perhaps. I know the legacy of this people, Lady Parvati. I know what cometh about when the powerful folk of one place come unto the weak folk of another place." He nods at me. "I have seen a Guardian do battle. I gather Barrett hath acquitted himself in even greater battles since he faced me at Stormveil's gate. I am now given to understand that an entire city of folk like unto thee existeth. If all of these warriors should come to the Lands Between, there would be naught I could do to protect my people. I cannot simply take thee at thy word, Lady Parvati, much as I would like to."

"What assurances would you accept?" I ask. "Parvati or Thermidor could probably sign a treaty and expect the City to go along with it. You could talk to Crow yourself on Thermidor's ansible. We already have contact with Earth, through the Daybreak. All we want to fix the Finite Samsara's ansible for is so we can keep in touch with each other while we're planetside."

Morgott considers me for a long moment, then nods slowly. "It is true that thou already hast contact with thy fellows. Very well. I'll not stand in thy path. Repair thy vessel, if thou wilt."

I nod at Thermidor. He nods back and turns to go

"But," Morgott calls after him. "I would fain speak with this 'Crow' of thine."

Thermidor turns back. "We can do that," he says, giving Morgott a shallow bow before leaving the room.

Once he's gone, Morgott turns back to me. "Now, Barrett," he says. "Thou hast been in these lands longer than either of thy fellows. I would have a report from thee on thine affairs, and on affairs in the southern provinces, if thou'rt willing."

I glance at Parvati. She nods encouragingly. Part of me is wary about saying too much—I worry that if I say the wrong thing, Morgott might decide we aren't potential friends after all. But Parvati doesn't seem to consider that a serious risk, and I trust her judgement. "Well," I begin, "after you fought me and Rogier at Stormveil, we started exploring the castle. I saw things there that didn't much endear Godrick to me. I'd already promised Melina I'd help her up here, to Leyndell—and she said that I'd need two Great Runes to get in. So we—that is, me, Rogier, and another Tarnished we ran into named Nepheli Loux—went after him."

"Hold," Morgott says, leaning forward, hands clenching into fists where they rest on his knees. "This Tarnished's name was Loux? Thou'rt sure?"

"Yep. The name means something to you, I guess?"

He considers me, his expression hard to read. Something stiff; fragile, or maybe volatile, like kindling left out to dry. "Yes," he says finally. But he doesn't elaborate.

I shrug. "Well, I gave Godrick the chance to surrender. He didn't take it. So the three of us took him down. Afterwards, Nepheli went her own way—back to Roundtable Hold, I think, which I guess is sort of a Tarnished headquarters?"

"I've heard murmurings of this hold," Morgott says. "But I know little of it. Continue."

"Well, Rogier and I poked around the castle a little more. Found a… what was that thing, exactly, Rogier?"

"A tumorous growth," Rogier says. "Spawned from the Prince of Death. Proof of that cursed being's existence."

Morgott's lips thin. "The existence of the so-called Prince of Death is known to me," he says. "Thou claimest that its tendrils stretch so far?"

"It killed me, Your Majesty," Rogier says frankly. "Infected me with its Deathblight. It was unmistakable. Were it not for Barrett's abilities, his Light, I would no longer be ambulatory, if I even still lived."

"Are my suspicions correct, then?" Melina asks softly. I glance at her, but she's looking at Morgott. "I have been told that Those Who Live in Death first appeared after the Night of the Black Knives, when Godwyn was killed by fragments of the Rune of Death. His death was not… complete, was it?"

"No," Morgott says flatly. "Though whether that was the design of the assassins, or merely an accident, I cannot say."

Melina glances at me, her golden eye full of some hidden meaning, then looks down. And it clicks.

I need not be forever at odds with all those who share my blood, Ranni had said—and, long before that, I did not want her burned. Alas for us both.

Shit. I think I know who sent those assassins after Godwyn. And I can hazard a guess as to why. I can't even blame Ranni for it—if Godwyn wasn't already dead, I'd be damn tempted myself.

"Don't know," I say aloud, looking back at Morgott. "But anyway—I cured Rogier's Deathblight, and before we left Stormveil, we met up with Trinovar. He was in service to Godrick and the Golden Lineage, but with Godrick dead he decided to follow us for a while."

"And once I learned of the Lady Melina's identity, I transferred mine oath to the Lineage to her," Trinovar interjects.

"And travelling merrily with thy former lord's own killers bothered thee not a whit, I suppose," Morgott says sourly.

Trinovar shrugs. "I'll not beg forgiveness of thee if my loyalty to Godrick extended no further than the very letter," he says. "Godrick the Grafted was a foul and vile creature, and a ruinous Lord to all Limgrave—and had no desire for my service besides. With him dead, I deemed it no great dishonor to cut myself loose of him, at least until I found another heir to the Lineage to whom I could swear myself. Which I did, in short order."

"When did you figure out who Melina was?" I ask him. To Morgott, I explain, "She was going by Morna, at the time, trying to keep her identity secret."

Trinovar chuckles. "Thou'rt not so subtle as thou thinkest, Barrett. And not all who lie on a cot at night are sleeping. It was, I think, less than a week after we departed Stormveil that I first overheard the Lady's name on thy lips during thy midnight conversations."

"That… makes sense." I sigh, then turn back to Morgott. "Anyway, we went to Caelid after that. Stopped in Sellia for a bit—apparently, Rogier was from there, before he became Tarnished and was banished. We—"

The door bursts open, interrupting me. A soldier runs in, skidding to a stop and kneeling towards Morgott. Thermidor follows him through the door, his Traveler-blessed Khvostov in his hands. "Your Majesty," the guard says. "Something has happened in the city. The ancestral manor of House Lothric hath exploded in violence. There are reports of Tarnished emerging from a portal of some sort."

"Lothric Manor?" Rogier starts. "That manor is the model on which the Roundtable Hold is based. What Tarnished—"

"Not the time for questions," Thermidor interrupts, flipping the safety on his Khvostov. Parvati and I are already standing up. "We've got violence breaking out in a city with a sizable civilian population. Fireteam—form up."

-x-x-x-​

By the time we reach the manor, though, most of the violence has died down. There's a bit of a standoff in the street, but the tension eases as we approach.

The big manor is smouldering. It looks like someone started a fire near the door, but it's been put out. There's a group of soldiers and knights in golden armor moving about, going through the motions of securing the area and searching for belligerents, but it doesn't look like they're finding any. As they work, they shoot wary looks in the direction of a huddled group of people near the scorched, heavy doors.

I recognize two of them. Nepheli Loux is the only person in the group standing upright, and her eyes find me as we approach. In her face, I see rigid discipline, papering over raw grief. Beside her is a man in brown rags, with a blindfold over his eyes and a wooden collar, like a wheel, fastened around his neck. He's standing, but slouched, one shaking hand bracing against the wall. Another man, in black and silver armor adorned with rubies, is crouched, seemingly trying to comfort the fourth figure, who is weeping inconsolably.

That last figure is Roderika.

"Barrett," Nepheli calls, raising a hand. Her voice is strong, but tight. "Rogier. Good to see you both again. I didn't look to encounter either of you in Leyndell—not that I expected anything but another fight for our lives in this city."

"Nepheli!" I greet, holstering the Dead Man's Tale and jogging over. "What are you doing here? What the hell happened?"

"I would know much the same, Lady Nepheli," Morgott says, easily keeping pace with me with unhurried, loping strides. "What bringeth four Tarnished into the heart of Leyndell? And how didst thou arrive?"

Nepheli's lips thin into a pale line. Her eyes, I notice, are rimmed with red around the dull gold. "My father, Gideon Ofnir—whom they call the All-Knowing—used his magic to send us here," she says. "It was all he could do in the time he had. The Roundtable Hold has fallen."

 

[robopanda]

Bets on Gideon trying Tarnished SCIENCE on Barret's ship having caused the explosion?

 

[greynoise]

Bets on Gideon trying Tarnished SCIENCE on Barret's ship having caused the explosion?

Click to shrink...

There wasn't an actual explosion, the term 'exploded in violence' is being used as a figure of speech for sudden fighting here.

 

[Lithos Maitreya]

There wasn't an actual explosion, the term 'exploded in violence' is being used as a figure of speech for sudden fighting here.

Click to shrink...

I mean, it did also get set on fire. There might have been a small explosion. But, yes, the word explosion there was intended to be figurative.

 

[TDKnave]

If Roderika is inconsolable, I dont have high hopes for Hewg.

 

[Lithos Maitreya]

Many thanks to @BinaryApotheosis for betareading and fact-checking.

-x-x-x-

57

The Story in Full

-x-x-x-​

"Ah, sweet Marika. My dear daughter. Forgive my weeping. Thou'rt yet too young to understand, I know. Thou wilt like as not have no memory of this day, though it shall live in my mind forever. The day thy uncle, my brother, was placed within one of those accursed jars. Thou shalt never know him, now. If thou ever so much as hearest his name, it shall be among those of condemned prisoners sent to do their penance and be reborn as saints. Saints. Bah."

"Hush, do not weep, though I weep with thee. I wish I could give thee another life, my daughter. But alas—this is the world I have brought thee into, cruel as it is. I hope it takes thee many years to understand how I have transgressed against thee. And I hope that, once thou dost, thou findest it in thyself to forgive me for it."

-x-x-x-​

"Much has happened since last we spoke, Barrett—even before the… events of the past few hours. You truly wish to hear the whole story? …Very well then. The story in full, with all its details.

"After Godrick's death, I returned to the Roundtable to report to my father, Gideon Ofnir. He is… he was… a leader among the Tarnished. He had gathered information on all the known Shardbearers, in the hopes of helping chart a course for one of us to eventually become Elden Lord. He was disappointed that I had yielded Godrick's Great Rune up to you, but not overly so.

"He sent me to Liurnia, to seek any information on the whereabouts of Lunar Princess Ranni. It seems that, despite vanishing shortly before the war broke out, some reports indicate she was in possession of a Great Rune at some point. I was to find her—or, failing that, to find her trail.

"Unfortunately, both Raya Lucaria and Caria Manor were closed to me by defensive enchantments. While I could enter the Carian Study Hall built into the base of the ancient Divine Tower of Liurnia, I could not find a way to ascend to the tower's summit. I visited the Church of Vows, but Pastor Miriel had not seen the princess since long before the Shattering. So I crossed the lakes and made for the Albinaurics' village, one of the last bastions of civilization in Liurnia.

"Or… so it was.

"When I arrived, the village had been ransacked. Its inhabitants butchered. The Albinaurics that survived had gone mad, attacking all who approached them in a frenzy. I half thought to see the Yellow Fire in their eyes, but—no, their madness was far more mundane. Perhaps it was not madness at all. Perhaps they saw clearer than I.

"The homes were newly burned, so I searched among them, hoping for… I don't know what, exactly. A clue as to who had caused it? To avenge them? Or perhaps just to understand why? I… it filled me with more rage than I can remember feeling since I returned to these lands, the sight of those poor folk scrabbling in the ashes of their own homes.

"It was worse than Godrick, and you know how awful Godrick's reign was. But with all his grafting and cruelty, he was at heart a coward trying to build for himself a set of walls to keep himself safe. I hated him, but I also pitied him, pathetic wretch that he was.

"This was different. There seemed no purpose to it, however selfish. It was as though the Albinaurics themselves had less value to whoever had attacked them than the mere ash to which they were reduced.

"…Hah. Forgive me. Even now, days and weeks later, I am still… struggling with what happened that day. Struggling to understand. To accept. Remembering it leads my thoughts down unaccustomed roads.

"The Albinaurics were not the only living things in that burned village. I found a Perfumer, there, still casting her burning powders at homes which had already been reduced to pyres. Perhaps I should have interrogated her, but I hadn't the presence of mind at the time. All I wanted was to stain her white robes red. So I did. But she was not leader of the attackers.

"No, that was another man. A man wearing a mask, with two great cleavers affixed with—forgive me, Your Majesty—affixed with severed horns. An Omenkiller. A butcher of children. Small wonder he had been sent to slaughter peaceful villagers.

"Yes—sent. I attacked him readily, but he was capable enough that between blows he had time to speak. And speak he did, though I desired nothing more than to stop my ears. He claimed to have been sent by—by my own father. Gideon Ofnir. That my father had wanted something these Albinaurics kept hidden. He demanded my help searching for it. 'If thou art a loyal daughter of the All-Knowing,' he said, 'thou wilt serve his purposes, and find the Albinaurics' medallion.'

"I did not believe him. How could I? How could my father have ordered such butchery, in search of a medallion of all things? 'You lie,' I told the Omenkiller. 'And you will die for what you've done here, no matter in whose name you did it.'

"And he did. And among his robes, I found a missive. Orders. Orders written, though not signed, in my own father's hand. I don't know how long I knelt there, in the embers of the bonfire the Omenkiller had made of a hundred Albinauric bodies, holding that blasted note. I almost took up the Omenkiller's orders, now that I knew who had given them, and continued ransacking the village myself, in search of that medallion. I nearly—

"…Mm. I took the man's mask and cleavers, and I left. I found a Site of Lost Grace, and I returned to the Roundtable. I stormed into my father's study, scattered his papers, and nearly cracked his desk when I presented them to him. And I asked him simply, 'Is it true?'

"He looked at the mask, then at me. There was no surprise in his voice. No shame, either. Only… only disappointment, and displeasure. 'Is it true,' he asked me, 'that you have killed a loyal servant? Yes. Is it true that you have set back my hunt—our hunt—for the Shardbearers by years? Yes. Is it true that the Albinaurics hold the only means to find our way to Miquella's Haligtree, and that by allowing my men's work to go unfinished, you have given them the opportunity to take it out of our reach, perhaps forever? Yes, stupid girl. It is true.'

"I… am not sure exactly what I said then. It might have been 'Why?'

"'Because we have a purpose,' he said. 'Because Queen Marika has high hopes for us. Because it is our duty to gather the shards of the Elden Ring, no matter how far they have been taken or how well hidden they may be. Because this struggle is what we were forged for, and in seeking to avoid that struggle you shame yourself, me, this Hold, and all our kind.' He took up the mask and turned from me. 'Begone, Nepheli Loux. You are no more use to me.'

"I called him 'Father.'

"He replied only, 'You are no daughter of mine.'

"I left his office shaking. Hah… perhaps I am still shaking. I found a quiet spot on the lower floor to think. And to weep. And I stayed there for… quite some time. Eventually, Roderika found me. She tried her best to comfort me, but I would not easily be comforted. I had lost… everything. More than I had even thought possible. I had not only lost my father—I had lost his fatherhood. I had lost the warm steel of purpose. I had lost my own past to the knowledge that I had spent it serving a monster. How many other massacres and ransackings had he ordered while I served him, blissfully, willfully blind? I don't know. Perhaps I never shall.

"But Roderika did not try to comfort me with empty platitudes. She… perhaps better than any other in the Hold, she knew how hollow those could be. She is a Spirit Turner, and instead of pretensions of warmth and light, she offered me stories. The stories of the ashes she had tuned. Their triumphs. Their regrets. Their goals. Their deaths.

"'Everyone dies eventually,' she told me. 'And many of those who die end up as ash, and much of that passes through my fingers. But, Nepheli, whether someone was good or bad, cruel or kind, just or mad, that doesn't matter. Not to this. They all come to me, hero and monster alike, and I tune their ashes just the same. I learn their stories, hear their whispers, heed their unfinished purposes and their restless regrets. They all have both, you see. Unfinished purposes, and restless regrets.'

"'But I don't, Roderika,' I whispered to her, in that dark corner of the Roundtable Hold. 'I have no purpose, no purpose at all. My purpose has become a regret, don't you see? What is left to me now?'

"'You're not alone in that,' Roderika said. And she told me of the ashes of one of the Cleanrot Knights of the Haligtree which had passed through her hands. 'Sir Faliroe was one of Malenia's loyal knights," she said, 'who was beside her when she unleashed the Scarlet Rot on Aeonia. She survived the battle, and began the long journey back to the Haligtree. But she did not finish the journey. Her last sight, as a Cuckoo Knight's blade pierced her Rot-wracked back, was of Knight-Captain Finlay turning away from her to bear their Empyrean mistress away.'

"'Sir Faliroe harbored many doubts, in those last days. She wondered at the justice of what they had done, whether Kindly Miquella would approve. Whether it would matter if he did. She remembered seeing the Scarlet Bloom flower, seeing the skies of Caelid stained red with the Rot, seeing the mutation begin among the living and the dead of the battlefield.

"'When she died, it was a relief to her. Because it meant she no longer felt bound to follow a goddess she was no longer sure she could trust. It meant she no longer had to question whether her knightly oaths, and taking the Rot into herself in solidarity with her mistress, were mistakes.'

"'Death might be a relief to me, too,' I admitted.

"But Roderika shook her head. 'Faliroe would have given anything for what you have now, Nepheli,' she told me. 'You have certainty. You know the kind of man you were serving. He has taken down the mask and shown you his true face, and he's even cut you free of your oaths. Yes, there's much to regret. But those regrets don't chain you with honor, oaths, and loyalty the way Faliroe's did. You say you have nothing, but you do have something—something you've not had in a very long time. Freedom.'

"Then she told me a little of you, Barrett. We'd spoken a little of you, already, when we realized we'd both met you around Godrick's castle, but not like this. 'When Barrett found me,' she said, 'I was in the same place as you. I regretted coming to these lands. All those who had come with me had died and been grafted, and I was left alone, afraid, despairing. I felt I had no road left before me, and nothing but guilt and shame littering the road behind. But he brought me back a memento from my slain friends, and showed me that there was still a road stretched out before me. It was just so different from the one behind that it was difficult to recognize. I was free—free to choose my path, to make my own fate, as I never had been before. The cost of that freedom was high—too high for me to be pleased for having paid it—but to refuse the freedom I had been given would be to shame my friends' sacrifice.

"'Don't refuse your freedom either, Nepheli. The price may have been too high, but it's been paid now, paid unwillingly by the blood of those poor Albinaurics. It was not your fault. But now it is your responsibility—to use the freedom you've been given in a way that honors them. And honors you.'

"'I'll try,' I promised her. And then I embraced her.

"It was while we held each other there that we began to hear noises from above. Shouting, clashing steel. That should have been impossible. The Roundtable bore an enchantment that made it impossible to so much as draw a weapon. But when I stood up, I found that drawing my axe was as easy as it was in the ruins of the Albinaurics' village.

"We ascended the steps to see battle. Several of the others—Diallos, whom you met, and Ensha were holding off a tide of strange, monstrous things. They were forged of a golden metal, with an ampoule of white fluid in the center of their chests and a single eye of glowing red in the center of their heads. They carried strange weapons, seemingly forged into their arms. They… reminded me of your weapons, Barrett—casting beams of red light from tiny barrels, like cannon the size of a man's hand. They were pouring into the Hold, not from outside—for there were no doors into the Hold from outside, only locked doors to nowhere—but from the chamber of the Two Fingers in the Hold's very heart.

"Yes, Your Majesty, we Tarnished do—did—have our own set of Two Fingers, and a Finger Reader to interpret their instructions.

"I took up my axe and joined the fray, but I knew at once that the battle was hopeless. There was no sign of an end to the tide—there were already so many of the creatures that I did not think they could have all fit inside the Fingers' chamber. Brother Corhyn did his best to keep us alive as we fought, but they were too many.

"I suppose my father—does it surprise you that I still call him such? Perhaps I should not. It is… I don't know just how to feel about him, now. He ordered the attack on the Albinaurics, and he cast me out, but he also saved all of us who survived.

"At any rate, I suppose he saw as I did—that the battle was hopeless, and the Hold was lost. He shouted over all the noise that we must fall back to the great hall.

"'No!' Roderika shouted where she hid behind me, directing the spirits she had summoned from ash into the fray beside us. "Master Hewg is still chained!'

"And he was. Master Hewg is—was—our quartermaster. I caught a glimpse of him, down the hall, fending off those creatures with his hammer. But, chained as he was, he could not escape their attacks. He looked towards us, met Roderika's eyes, and called back to her. 'Too late for me, lass! Go! Live!'

"Then the horde closed up between us, and I saw him no more.

"I picked up Roderika when she collapsed, and leapt over the railing down to the great hall below. The others followed me—Diallos, Corhyn, Ensha, my father. The creatures began to fire at us from above, but we took cover behind what little furniture could be found.

"'They'll be down here soon, Ofnir,' Ensha told my father. It was the most I'd ever heard him say. 'Have you a plan?'

"'A hope,' my father said. 'Nothing more.' He looked at me then. 'It seems,' he said, 'that all my ambitions and plots are coming to nothing, Nepheli. I do not believe that I have been unjustified, but I suppose it no longer matters. No, do not speak. You've called me "father," but you and I both know I did not sire you—and who it was who did. So I leave the others in your care. Lead the Tarnished, Nepheli Loux, Warrior. They will need you.'

"'Lead them where?' I asked him. It was all I could think to say.

"'Out,' he said. 'I will break the barrier between the Roundtable and the space in the Lands Between to which it is anchored. You must get them all through, you understand?'

"'But what about you?' I asked him.

"'I cannot pass through while maintaining the portal,' he said. Then he gestured with his staff and cast a spell on the great doors of the Roundtable—doors which, as long as I had been there, had always been sealed shut. And they opened—onto the ashen streets of Leyndell itself. 'Go,' my father ordered. 'I cannot hold it for long. Ensha, you take the rearguard.'

"I called to the others and we charged through the portal. Corhyn, Diallos, and I, carrying poor Roderika. But before Ensha could follow us through, I heard my father cry out in pain. I looked back, and in the instant for which the portal remained open, I saw that he had been struck.

"Then the portal flickered, shuddered, and burst like a cyst. It scorched the doors of the manor as it exploded. And… that was how your men found us, Your Majesty. Last of the Roundtable's Tarnished, though there are certainly other Tarnished who were not at the Hold when it fell. I am sure many of them will try to travel to the Hold in the coming days. I hope they merely fail, and are not greeted by those monsters waiting to destroy them, as they did Ensha, Master Hewg, and my father.

"At any rate. That is my story, in full. So now, Barrett, I have a question for you. What were those things? Forged of steel your face may be, but I am not blind. You recognized my description. So—what were they? What were the creatures that killed my father and destroyed the only home I've known in these lands?"

 

[robopanda]

Oh crap, the Vex are planet side.

 

[Caiuz]

of strange, monstrous things. They were forged of a golden metal, with an ampoule of white fluid in the center of their chests and a single eye of glowing red in the center of their heads. They carried strange weapons, seemingly forged into their arms.

Click to shrink...

Being of golden metal indicates a Collective previously unknown to Guardians.

 

[Lithos Maitreya]

There will be no update tomorrow, unfortunately. I've been sick, busy, and distracted. Not a winning combination. I'll have the next chapter in two weeks, sorry!

 

[Mithrill]

No issue, life be like that sometimes. Hope things get better!

 

[Ostentatiousness]

Bets on Gideon trying Tarnished SCIENCE on Barret's ship having caused the explosion?

Click to shrink...

There wasn't an actual explosion, the term 'exploded in violence' is being used as a figure of speech for sudden fighting here.

Click to shrink...

I mean, it did also get set on fire. There might have been a small explosion. But, yes, the word explosion there was intended to be figurative.

Click to shrink...

Having read the next chapter I know this isn't the case, but let me cook this one:

Barrett found the Lonestar in Texas, so what if the Lonestar was actually powered by violent Texan ghosts and thus exploded in a literal explosion and an explosion of materialised violence?

 

[Lithos Maitreya]

I was getting better! And then I got sick again.

No chapter tomorrow, sorry.

 

[Lithos Maitreya]

One last time--and I really do believe that--no chapter this week. I'm mostly healed, just a little more sensitive to cold than I'm used to. I intend to get the next OMC chapter put together by the end of Tuesday and then I'll get back to this story later this week.

Sheesh, it's been like a month and a half since I last posted, this has sucked.