Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The call of long lost grace speaks to us all. To those of grand names, carrying a legacy with them. To the famous. The infamous. It beckons those who know their path and those who still need to find it. Forging legends, so that one day a Tarnished might arise to claim the title of Elden Lord and bring back order into the Lands Between.

Names that sent shivers down the spines of those who heard them. Carrying power... and fear. Warriors, saints, companions of death, curse ridden madmen and all-knowing scholars. All of them, ready to take from the lands to see their goals fulfilled.

And there, between those flames that burned bright and glorious, a single Tarnished arose from death. No name to claim his own, no past to be remembered. Blessed yet again by grace, to stand before the Elden Ring.

A man of no renown. A nobody. And yet grace brought him back... underestimating his devotion and unable to foresee the path he would take. For his destiny wasn't bound to warmth and gold, but to the cold of the dark night.

Oh arise now, ye Tarnished... and bear witness to the beginning of the end.

Welcome the Age of Stars.

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The Tarnished tried to hold back a yawn as he entered the crumbling building of the Church of Elleh. His feet hurt and his wrist felt sore from swinging his blade all day long. Though his hardship hadn't been for naught, proven by the not too shabby amount of runes in his possession. Finally he'd be able to afford that crafting kit from Kalè.

When the Tarnished first made acquaintance with the nomadic merchant that morning, the man recommended he buy that ominous crafting kit. The Tarnished, clad in a simple chainmail armor and only with his sword and a crimson tear flask on his body, felt inclined to put trust in the words of the merchant. After all, he was a stranger to living in the Lands Between and what it took to make surviving in this hostile world just a little easier. So he spent the rest of his day slaying maddened soldiers and beasts, giving his blade ample opportunity to taste blood.

His memories of what his life was like before his reawakening in the Church of Anticipation was as good as nonexistent. He didn't even know what his name was. All he did know was how to swing his sword and that he had to follow the call of Grace. People simply called him Tarnished and he saw no problem with that. As long as they didn't all start calling him maidenless.

He had met three people so far that didn't seem to be on the lookout to kill him. And while he could forgive Melina for calling him maidenless, especially since she had helped him greatly by gifting him Torrent and the power to turn runes into strength, that wasn't so much the case with that creepy figure Varré. Tarnished he might be, but there was pride left in him! The Tarnished still felt that it had been a great overreaction when the white masked man started to beat him with a bouquet of roses after he punched him square in the face for calling him maidenless.

With a confident stride he walked towards the campfire in the back of the church, pausing when he saw the merchant fast asleep. Kalé's scrawny donkey laid beside him, only looking up lazily when it heard the footsteps. Slightly disappointed, the Tarnished sighed before shrugging his shoulders. His purchase had to wait till the morning. Thinking about it, with his sluggish steps and heavy arms, sleep looked like a good course of action.

With an exhausted sigh he sat by the site of Grace, enjoying the warmth it gave him. It was different from the warmth of flames, it felt like it radiated through his whole body. Caressing any wounds and gifting energy to tackle whatever might lie ahead. Just as he felt his eyelids grow heavy, he heard a woman's soft and measured voice break through the quiet of the night. “This way, Tarnished. May I have a word?”

The Tarnished swiftly jumped to his feet, his blade already in his hand and pointed at the intruder. A woman sat on a crumbling piece of wall, her skin pale blue and the brim of a big witch's hat dousing her face in shadow, concealing any facial expressions from view. She had four slender arms, one set folded over her lap and the other set laid together at the fingertips. The Tarnished didn't see her eyes, but he knew she was watching him. And for some reason he had the suspicion she was smirking at him and his defensive demeanor.

“Who are you?”, he asked with his hoarse voice, rusted by decades of no usage.

The witch was unimpressed. “A pleasure to meet thee, Tarnished. I am the witch Renna.”

She raised her head and he was able to see her face. It was beautiful. Smooth skin in the same pale blue as her arms and there was an ever so small smile on her lips. As he took a closer look, he saw how the skin on her left cheek and her neck seemed blemished, almost like it cracked. Was that... porcelain?

What truly caught his attention though where her eyes. One was a bright and crystal clean blue, shimmering in the light of the moon and reminding him of a sapphire. The other eye was shut, some kind of marking that the Tarnished couldn't quite make out on that side. A spectral reflection seemed to compensate for that shut eye, hovering besides her face. The reflection seemed much more emote and... smirked at him mockingly. He knew it!

“I'd heard tell of a Tarnished hurtling about atop a spectral steed. And upon looking into the matter, the talk, I surmise, is of thee.” She slightly tilted her head. “Thou'rt possessed of the power, no? To call forth the spectral steed named Torrent.”

The Tarnished, after realizing that this woman wasn't out for his blood, slowly lowered his sword and answered: “Yes, I can call Torrent.” He held the whistle Melina gave him up.

Renna seemed pleased with that answer. “Ah. As I had hoped. I was entrusted this, for thee. By Torrent's former master.” She slipped two hands inside her big fur coat, before pulling out a small silver bell and an inconspicuous gray box. She held both items out for the Tarnished to take. The man, still at the site of Grace, stood there and looked at her surprised. Would he really just get those items as a gift? No. Nothing in the Lands Between was for free and genuine kindness was rarer to find than any gemstone. The witch looked at him amused. “Come hither, Tarnished. I mean thee no harm. 'Tis only my wish to fulfill a promise I made many moons ago.”

Slowly, the Tarnished made his way towards her, on guard and ready to react to an attack at any moment. But the assault he expected never came and so he was standing in front of the witch. It seemed to be a little colder around her and just now did he notice the heavy fog around his feet. The smell of winter, of freshly fallen snow and long cold nights, was surrounding the witch like a subtle perfume.

Still tense he reached out and took the items out of her outstretched hands. Their fingertips touched for but a moment, yet the Tarnished still felt how cold her skin was. As he retracted his hand he looked down at the two items in it. The bell was delicate and ornate, while there were only three wolves crudely engraved on the gray box.

Renna continued: “Tis a bell to call forth spirits. Summon them with it, from ash unreturned to the Erdtree. The spirits will obey thine command but briefly, as they recall battles past. Now it is thine. To do with as thou wishest.”

The Tarnished hesitated for another moment, before putting the items in his pouch and giving the witch a slight bow. “I... Thank you.” He still waited for the caveat to this interaction. What was the end-goal of this mysterious woman?

She just gave him a dignified bow of her head in answer to his thanks. “Forgive mine intrusion, Tarnished. I doubt we shall again meet. But all the same, learn well the Lands Between.” Renna stopped for a brief second, before musing: “How long will it be, I wonder...” The look she gave him was full of thought. “Before the Tarnished tire of obeisance to the Two Fingers?” And with that she dissolved into thousands of bright blue sparks, carried away by the wind.

The Tarnished stood where she left him, a frown on his face as he looked in the direction the sparks flew. What did she mean by those last words? He shook his head and returned to the site of Grace, feeling the new items in his pouch as he lied down.

This was his first day in the Lands Between after his awaking by the call of Grace... and if today's events were anything to go by, he surely would never experience boredom.

Chapter Text

Liurnia. Land of Lakes. Home of the mysterious and imposing Academy of Raya Lucaria. The building seemed to loom over everyone visiting the land, no matter where they stood. It rained far more frequently here than in Limgrave and the Tarnished wasn't particularly pleased about that.

Drenched to the bone he sat atop of Torrent, who didn't seem bothered by the constant rain. For a couple of hours the two were already riding through a grand flooded area. The Tarnished felt slightly lost, his vision obscured by trees in front of him.

His time in Limgrave had been a hard lesson in humility. Many times he had made acquaintance with death, awakening in front of a site of Grace each time after a deadly blow. Dying... wasn't something the Tarnished would get used to any time soon.

Though his time in Limgrave wasn't just filled with misery, he had made quite some nice acquaintances as well. Blaidd the half-wolf, whom he helped to slay the traitorous Bloodhound Knight Darriwil. Iron Fist Alexander, the living jar warrior, whom he helped to get unstuck from the ground. Sorceress Sellen, who called him a dimwit for rather relying on his sword than on Glintstone magic. Sweet Roderika, who seemed to have lost all will in moving on, no matter how much the Tarnished tried to lift her spirits. All those rather friendly encounters gave him strength to move on, to let Grace lure him further and further to a goal he didn't know.

After his victory over Margit the Fell Omen, Melina had taken him to the Roundtable Hold. A hub for Tarnished like him to catch a breath, eat a hot meal, reinforce their weapons and repair their armor. He did meet some other Tarnished there, some friendlier than others. Sir Gideon Ofnir most certainly belonged to the group of others.

After a short break in the Roundtable Hold, the Tarnshed continued his way through Stormveil Castle. The demented lord of the castle, Godrick the Grafted, was also the target of the Tarnished. After fighting his way past maddened soldiers, living jars and hawks with blades on their feet - as if their talons weren't already sharp enough! - he finally faced off against the lord. That man, if he could be even described as such, was a surreal sight. Over a dozen of hands, all grafted onto the pale gray flesh of the Shardbearer, making him a bulking mass of extremities. He knew that those limps were from former Tarnished, cut from their bodies so Godrick could profit from their strength. The battle against him had been a challenge, but through perseverance and the help of his three wolf companions he did manage to finally put a rest to the reign of that monster. The Tarnished had made a note to himself to thank Renna for her gift, if he should ever bump into her again. It had helped him quite a few times.

The Tarnished had returned to the Roundtable Hold to rest up for a moment and visit the blacksmith Hewg to reinforce his blade. But before being able to do that, he had seen the open door, previously closed, and his curiosity had led him to investigate further before going on with his plans. The Two Fingers truly had been an imposing sight and when the Tarnished first saw them, he froze in place to just... look. His thoughts at that moment - a mix of awe and disgust – had been interrupted by the shriveled up Lady sitting besides the Two Fingers, who beckoned him to come closer.

Finger Reader Enia functioned as an interpreter of the Two Fingers, putting their motions into words simple Tarnished like himself could understand. And finally the Tarnished knew what his task was: to slay the shardbearers. To collect their great runes and become Elden Lord.

Filled with new purpose, the Tarnished went to talk to Gideon in the grand library of the Hold and the old man had told him about his next target: Queen Rennala of the Full Moon. And so, after taking care of both his empty stomach and his blade, the Tarnished had continued his journey to flooded and cold Liurnia.

He sighed frustrated as a new rain cloud decided to empty itself over the Tarnished. “I hate it here”, he grumbled, when he and Torrent arrived on a clearing in the flooded woods. And what he saw made him cringe as a bad feeling crept up his spine. The Tarnished leaned forward. “Are... are those giant prawn?”

Torrent snorted in response and he nodded. “Ah good, so I'm not imagining things.” One of the ugly things seemed to have noticed him and the Tarnished, not willing to risk a battle against the hulking behemoth, gave Torrent the spurs and tried to ride past the group.

The loud splashing sounds of the spectral steed alerted the rest of the prawn and now they all were after him. Oh great. But the beasts were rather slow, so he had no problem riding past them. Triumphantly he smirked. Piece of... A deafening splash ringed in his ears as a ball of muck and water shot him off of Torrent's back. The Tarnished landed face first in the murky waters and hastily tried to get back to his feet. He wiped the water out of his eyes and looked back at the prawn. One of them had its claw raised and before the Tarnished could roll to the side, the next shot hit him right in the sternum, catapulting him back a few feet. Almost in a panic he called for Torrent, the steed right there for him to jump up. “Go! Go! Go!” As if in answer Torrent huffed aggravated. “Listen, don't be angry with me, but instead with those shrimp shooting shit at us!” He held on for dear life as his companion pushed through the shallow lake. Even after they should've been out of range, those damn crustaceans still shot for him.

Maybe they rode a little further than necessary... but better safe than sorry, thought the Tarnished as they came to a halt ten minutes later. He exhaled and patted Torrent's neck affectionately. “Good boy.” Much to the steed's delight he held a hand full of rowa raisins in front of his snout. As Torrent was munching, the Tarnished took his surroundings in. More water, of course, but now big pieces of rock protruded out of it. They pointed towards the sky like stony fingers.

He squinted his eyes when he saw one especially strange rock, full of spines that almost seemed to shine in a dull blue light... and then he widened his eyes as the strange rock raised its head to look at him. Torrent immediately stopped munching and laid back his ears. Glintstone Dragon Smarag slowly straightened up to full height and roared at the Tarnished.

“Well... Fuck.”

The dragon opened its maw and a faint blue glimmer was visible in the back of its throat. The Tarnished knew what was coming, so he spurred Torrent to push forward, towards the dragon. They narrowly avoided being roasted by the blue flames.

With grim determination the Tarnished unsheathed his sword and took a swing at the legs of the Dragon. His blade left a deep cut in the scaly skin and a loud roar was indicator, that it hurt as badly as it looked. Angrily the dragon stomped, trying to squish his pesky enemy, but he was already out of reach. Blade raised, the Tarnished aimed for the creatures head, when it suddenly turned around in one fluid motion and managed to bite deep into his leg.

He screamed as the fangs bore deep into his flesh and he was ripped out of Torrent's saddle. With one violent motion the dragon tossed him away and he tumbled a few times before coming to a halt. He was dizzy and his leg hurt like crazy. Blood gushed out of the wound, tinting the water underneath him red. Somehow he had managed to hold on to his blade and with shaky legs he stood up, calling Torrent with his whistle. His faithful companion was there immediately, manifesting underneath him.

In full gallop the Tarnished rode towards the dragon, who was getting ready to breathe fire again. He could feel the heat on his face as he came closer and closer, the flames were already licking at the teeth of the creature. Then he stood up in the saddle and jumped. His leg ached like crazy when he put weight on it, but the Tarnished just bared his teeth and pushed through it.

He landed on the head of the dragon, quickly holding on to one of the horns, as the beast started to shake its head to get rid of him. The Tarnished raised his sword and started to ram the blade into the skull of the dragon, just above its Glintstone encrusted eyes. It took a few attempts, but finally he managed to almost completely sink the blade into the creature's head.

The dragon twitched and writhed in pain, before falling down to the ground, motionless and dead. With shaky legs he jumped down from his slain enemy and turned around to look at his feat. He had slain a damn dragon! Filled with pride he smiled at Torrent. “You did great, my friend.” The steed nuzzled the wound on his leg and the Tarnished frowned. “Hm, I should find a site of Grace...” He could've sworn he saw Torrent roll his eyes at those words.

Before he would search for Grace though, he wanted to investigate the dragon's lair. After all, they were supposed to hoard treasures, right? His disappointment was pretty big when he only found a couple of bodies. All but one wearing commoner's clothes and holding nothing of value. One body was clad in voluminous blue and red robes and wore a stone helmet covering his whole head. The helmet depicted an old and bearded man, wearing a golden crown. The Tarnished saw the elaborate key in the cold hands of the dead man and, after hesitating for a moment, took it. Who knows if he might needed it later on in his journey?

After taking one last look around, he determined that there was nothing more to find here. He sighed frustrated, before he climbed back into Torrent's saddle. The leg of his pants with the wound was drenched with his blood by now and he felt slightly dizzy from all the blood loss.

The Tarnished rode north until he finally saw... land! He rejoiced as Torrent's hooves hit earth. No annoying splashing sounds anymore. He felt a distant pull of Grace, signaling him that there was a site not too far off. Following the call of Grace, they reached crumbling ruins filled with weak sorcerers that hardly posed a threat to the Tarnished, even in his weakened state.

The site of Grace must be very close, but even after searching in every corner of the ruins he couldn't find it. Puzzled he scratched his head as he stood in front of a dead-end. Slowly he dismounted Torrent to inspect the wall. It must've been put there after the fact, the stones seemed... out of place from the rest. When he tried to lean against it, he hadn't expected to fall right through the wall, face first into a puddle.

“Ah”, he mumbled when he got to his feet and saw the golden shine of Grace. Exhausted he limped towards it and sat down. Warmth filled him as he touched it with his hand, the energy of the Greater Will filling him. With a morbid fascination he watched the gaping holes in his thigh slowly close. Flesh stitching itself together, muscles regenerating and skin closing over wet flesh.

“That looks like it has been a rather strenuous battle”, said a deep and velvety voice and the Tarnished looked to its source. A giant troll, sitting in front of an appropriately sized anvil, holding a book in his hand. His face was obscured by a mask made out of hundreds of mirrors, which quietly jingled with each of his movements. His torso was, like all the other trolls he had met so far, hollowed.

The Tarnished remembered Blaidds words of a blacksmith of rather large size. Since he hadn't been attacked by him yet, he presumed that this was said smith. With a quiet groan he stood up and walked towards the troll, so he could talk to him more easily. “Greetings. I crossed paths with a dragon... Nasty buggers. At least he won't bother me again.” He took a look around. “Pray tell, who are you? This seems like a strange place to set up a forge.”

“Well, look at you. We don't receive many visitors.” The giant seemed to inspect him under his mask. “I presume you are a Tarnished. What brings you here?” There was a hint of caution and wariness in his question. Before the Tarnished could answer, the troll shook his head as if to reprimand himself. “Oh, pardon me. It's hardly my place to ask, is it. I am Iji. A blacksmith who once served the Carian royals... An old codger who refuses to retire his rusty hammer. So, here I am, still quietly plying my trade, on this spot.” He closed the book in his hand with a loud fump. “Perhaps you'd like a display? These bones are old, but still able.”

With a sluggish motion the Tarnished pointed towards the site of Grace. “For now I just want to rest up a little, but thank you for the offer.” He gave the blacksmith a small bow. Before he returned to the site of Grace to get some shut eye, he said: “Does the name Blaidd ring a bell with you? I've met him on my journey and he told me about you.”

Iji seemed surprised. “Blaidd actually did that, did he? Quite a rare occurrence, for such a guarded soul as he. Perhaps he sensed something unusual about you.” He sounded lost in thought.

The Tarnished returned to his site of Grace and closed his eyes for a moment. He didn't know for how long he slept, but when he reopened his eyes he looked up at a starry sky. And he was truly stunned. It was the most beautiful night's sky he had ever seen, the stars so brilliant he could make out thousands of them. For a long moment he just marveled at this sight and felt strangely at peace.

With a heavy sigh he stood up and stretched his limbs. It was time to continue his journey. He looked up the path that led away from the ruins, towards an imposing structure up on the hill. Maybe it was worth checking out for resources?

Just as he was about to get moving, Iji said: “Brave Tarnished. A word of warning, if you please.”

The Tarnished walked toward Iji. “What do you mean?”

“This territory once belonged to the Carian royal family. Their manor lies not far beyond this point. When the Raya Lucaria Academy turned on the Carians, the Knights of the Cuckoo descended on this tract. After leveling it, they carried on to the manor. The Carians were taken off guard, but their strength had not waned, and they repelled the knight's onslaught... By conjuring an enchanted snare that remains potent to this day. That is why I say, Tarnished. Don't go near the manor.” The blacksmith sounded dire when he added: “Unless you wish to lie with the corpses of the heedless Knights of the Cuckoo.”

Something about this warning... seemed odd to the Tarnished. He had told Iji about his fight against the dragon and still he was doubting his skills? Or was there something else? Maybe there was something lying inside the manor the troll didn't want him to see? Whatever might be the case, now he had even more determination to see the manor and the secrets it might held.

“Thank you for the warning. I am still going to try my luck.” He smiled full of confidence at Iji. What was the worst that could await him?

Chapter Text

The Tarnished had experienced a lot in his relatively short time in the Lands Between so far, so he felt like he should've been ready to face anything. The bombardment of magic arrows on his way to the manor's entrance didn't faze him all that much. After all, Iji had warned him about the trap. Together with Torrent's help it had been easy to evade the assault and safely reach the entrance.

No, that wasn't the reason why he was standing there, knees slightly shaking and blade held so tight it almost hurt.

The reason for his pitiful display were ginormous hands, scuttling around the ground like spiders with even more limbs. Gnarled and warty fingers, with thick black hair on them, ending in blue fingernails. The Tarnished felt nauseous just looking at them and everything inside him refused to fight against them.

He took a few controlled breaths before he advanced. There was no way around this and he needed to progress. Overcoming his own mind, that screamed at him to turn around, and leave gods know what lived here alone. Because if one thing was greater than his aversion for arachnids, it was his curiosity.

His way through the manor was stressful. Though the Tarnished was filled with a bit of pride at how he was able to only squeak in disgust a few times, as he fought against the hand-spiders. In a stroke of luck he discovered that those ugly things were pretty weak against fire, so he resorted to the age old wisdom of: kill it with fire!

The grounds of the manor were, while visibly unkempt for decades, still somewhat beautiful and impressive. It drew a picture of long lost power, of a once proud and noble dynasty. Even the Tarnished, who relied on his blade and not on any magic, could feel how the power of Glintstone seeped through everything here, leaving blue sparkles hanging in the air. It reminded him of the way Renna had departed from the church a few days ago.

After fighting against spectral soldiers, avoiding Glintstone traps and passing through a chapel, he faced off against a troll knight. At first the Tarnished had hoped that maybe this one would be friendly as well, but after being rather painfully squashed by the giant's blade he knew that he had to fell another obstacle in his way.

His path led him up a set of imposing stairs, until he reached a big opening. Chairs were arranged around a perfectly circular body of water that reflected the stunning sky in all its glory. This place had something ritualistic to it and the Tarnished wondered what the inhabitants of the manor were doing here, when they still had their wits.

As he stepped in the the pool of water, a new foe materialized before him. It was another spectral illusion, formed like a proud knight atop a sturdy battle horse. Both were clad in elaborate armor, though he wondered what a spectral illusion needed armor for. The knight held an imposing lance in her hands and just as the Tarnished started his attack, she twirled it around to summon daggers of Glintstone.

He managed to evade them, rolling to the side as the homed in on him. His blade cut through the body of the horse, and while it left no physical evidence, he knew he was causing damage. It had been the same with the spectral soldiers he had fought before. If he weren't so focused on the battle at hand, he would've scoffed. The Carians seemed to have a thing for illusions. Be it walls or soldiers.

In one fluid motion he twirled around, cutting yet again through the illusion and after landing the hit he dove out of the way, just in time. The lance flew over his head, barely missing him. As he tried to win some distance, the knight conjured up a greatbow and when she pulled back the bowstring a bright blue glow started to emit from it. So that's where the big arrows harassing him before were coming from.

He rolled, evading the big arrow of magical energy. Out of the roll he immediately sprinted forward, jumping up with his blade raised. The steel cut through the blue body of the knight and the horse buckled underneath her.

In an explosion of blue sparks the knight dissolved together with her horse and the Tarnished stood as sole victor. The eerie silence returned to the yard and he sheathed his sword. At least he wouldn't have to worry about being skewered by arrows on his way back.

Now uninterrupted, he was finally able to look for his way forward. It seemed the yard was a dead end, until he spotted a small opening in the wall across from him. He raised an eyebrow. Just how big was this manor?

He stepped out of the yard onto a plateau riddled with ruins. The Tarnished could make out three large towers stretching towards the sky and... a dragon. A goddamn dragon walking in front of one of the towers. He grimaced. “You've got to be kidding me.”

Ignoring for now the ginormous, magic fire breathing problem at hand, he decided to first investigate the tower to the right. A magical seal made it impossible to go inside, so he tried to sneak around the dragon and look at the tower to the left... which was also blocked by a magical barrier.

Begrudgingly he turned towards the tower in the middle. Maybe he could sneak around the dragon again? He groaned and tried his luck. His steps as quiet as could be, every muscle in his body tense as he reached the stairs leading up to the tower's entrance. At least this one wasn't blocked. The Tarnished was almost certain he had avoided the dragon, when a wolf, sitting not far from the stairs, started howling in alarm. Immediately the head of the dragon shot around at the loud sound.

“You fucking mutt”, the Tarnished cursed and hastily rushed inside the tower, hoping the dragon didn't see him. A few tense moments passed, but apparently he got away without being spotted. He thanked Grace under his breath, before he started his exploration of the tower.

In his search for any valuables he climbed higher and higher, took a lift to the top of the tower and was surprised to see he still had to climb a set of stairs. The stairs wrapped around the outside of the building and he took a moment to enjoy the view he had so far up. It felt like he was up there, with the stars, looking down at a land shrouded in eternal night. It made him fell exalted. Only the golden light of the Erdtree was breaking through the darkness. As always.

The Tarnished entered the final room of the tower, expected it to be abandoned like the rest of the tower. It was filled with books and astrologer's tools, all in slight disarray. It was cold in here, colder than outside and his breath became visible in little clouds in front of his mouth. The pleasant smell of freshly fallen snow hung in the air. His heart almost jumped out of his throat when he saw a single person sitting in a heavy wooden chair, looking at him with an amused sparkle in her blue eye. The witch Renna ever so slightly tilted her head as he entered her chamber. “Oh, again we cross paths.”

The Tarnished gave her a smile, glad to see a familiar face. “It is nice meeting you again, Renna.”

The witch folded the lower set of her hands over her lap, while she laid the upper pair together at their fingertips. A common pose of hers, the Tarnished speculated as he watched her, still not completely at ease. She wore the same outfit as the night he first met her, a simple white dress made out of silk and wool and an ash grey fur coat over it. Even her large witch's hat sat accurately on her head.

Something about her made him wary, he couldn't quite put a finger on it. Though he barely spoke more than a few sentences with her, so a healthy helping of caution felt appropriate. Even if he was feeling slightly bad for being so distrusting towards her, seeing that she had gifted him the spirit calling bell.

She disrupted his thoughts when she said: “It pleaseth me to see Torrent hale and hearty... But Tarnished, what business hast thou here? I have no memory of inking thee an invitation.”

That question caught him off guard... He could hardly say he was here because he wanted to loot her home, now could he? So with the most charming smile he could manage he answered: “Pure curiosity, honestly. I really don't have a particular reason.”

He saw the spectral part of her face raise an eyebrow. “No reason in particular, thou claimest? Intriguing. Then mayhaps fate hath steered thee towards this reunion. Hm...” She intently looked him up and down and he felt slightly nervous under her intense gaze. “Wilt thou enter into my service?” Her voice grew even more dignified than it already was. “I am the witch Ranni. I stole Death long ago, and search now for the dark path. That I might one day upend the whole of it, and rid the world of all that came before.” There it was again, that mocking smirk! “Well? Has that roused thy interest.”

The Tarnished looked slightly flabbergasted at Renna, no Ranni. “So your name is Ranni, not Renna? Why would you introduce yourself with a wrong name?”

She nodded, as if she understood why he was asking. “I see why this would cause thee suspicion towards me. Let me assure thee, I stand by my word. I mean thee no harm. My name doth carry a reputation and in the wrong ears... it might cause inconveniences.”

Cautiously he put a hand on the hilt of his blade. “And now, without even knowing me, you want me to enter into your service? What you explained to me barely makes sense. I don't mean to offend, but this reeks of a trap.”

Ranni was unimpressed by him, but the smirk was gone from her face. “I see. More's the pity. Come to me again, shouldst thou change thy heart.” Bemusement was audible in her voice when she added: “Surrendering thyself into the service of a doll-witch... Is not as frightful as thou fearest...”

The Tarnished frowned. “I don't refuse serving you because of what you are. I'm more worried about your motivation behind recruiting a complete stranger.”

His words seemed to catch her by surprise, she blinked twice in quick succession. Then she composed herself. “Seeing that thou art of passing skill, 'twas mine impression thou couldst serve me well. Thou art in possession of a Great Rune, after all. My reason for inquiring thy service are of no ill intent.”

“But what is your end-goal? Your description just now was rather cryptic, you have to agree.”

“Mine intention?” She looked at him, with the spectral face having a dark expression to it. “I plan to overthrow the tyranny of the Greater Will. To free the Lands Between from its shackles. To reduce the lackeys of the Order to naught but piles of smoldering ash.”

“That's... Blasphemy”, the Tarnished looked at her shocked. Not only did she plot to overthrow a God, no she was even openly admitting to it, in front of a man she didn't know. Either she put a lot of trust in him, or she simply knew she could deal with him without any issues, should he decide to attack her for her plans.

“Blasphemy, hm? A word fitting for a Finger Reader to use. I call it... long overdue.” She laid the upper pair of her hands on her lap too. “I do not expect thee to blindly follow mine orders. Nay, I expect of those that serve me to question. Know that I will not have thee commit atrocities to serve my purpose.”

“But what's so bad about the Greater Will? That's the point I don't understand. The Lands Between have been under the guidance of the Two Fingers for so long...”

“Dost life in a golden cage seem appealing to thee? To live on a chain, no will to call thine?” Ranni questioningly raised her eyebrows and the Tarnished hesitated. The guidance of Grace was seen as a blessing, yet it was an order in truth. There was no sense in refusing it, once received, the orders had to be carried out. He would've never aspired to walk the road to Elden Lord out of his own volition.

For a long moment he looked at her, before he sighed. Ranni had a point and it bugged him to acknowledge it. He would help her, see where things would go. If she was speaking the truth, then he would regret nothing. And if she had ill intentions, he would keep himself close to her so he could intervene. He also felt he owed her. Why? Because she had helped him after all and he felt a little duty bound to help her in return. Also... what kind of gentleman would he be, if he denied the request of a fair maiden? “Fine. I'll serve you.”

Ranni looked pleased. “I see. A choice well made.” For a moment he thought she sounded like a merchant wanting to sell him something ridiculously overpriced. Of course he kept that thought to himself. “Thou'rt a rare sort. Not many would have accepted the offer.” Okay now she definitely sounded like she was about to sell him diamond encrusted undergarments. “But I require as much from those under my command. I anticipate good work from thee.” And for the first time she gave him an honest and warm smile, without any mockery. The Tarnished found it to be a most lovely smile and his heart fluttered a little.

He returned the smile with a slight blush, before asking: “What's the next step? I'm ready.”

“Good, then I ask we proceed with haste. There is, in my service, a half-wolven warrior by the name of Blaidd. I would have thee join him in search for the hidden treasure of Nokron, the Eternal City.”

“I already fought alongside Blaidd, so this should be fine”, the Tarnished responded and Ranni nodded slightly. “So thou art familiar with him. Very good. I have called for Blaidd to greet thee below. Take from him the particulars.” As if she had forgotten she added: “Ah, and there wilt thou find Iji, my war counselor, and Seluvis, preceptor in the sorcerous arts, also. Heed not their peculiarities; feel secure in gaining from them what advantage thou canst. I am sure the others will be doing just the same.”

The Tarnished hesitated for a moment and she noticed. “Thou needst not indulge them unduly, but they too wish to appraise thy worth. It hath been a passing long time since a newcomer entered my service, after all.”

“Should I feel honored for the opportunity? Or worried?”, he half jested, and to his surprise Ranni joined in. “Mayhaps thou shouldst. Mayhaps not.” She shooed him away with a waving motion of one of her hands. “Now make haste, Tarnished. Thou'st a task demanding thy attention.”

He gave her a polite bow. “Of course... Lady Ranni.” She gave him a small smile at that and he took his leave, down the stairs and the lift.

First he talked to Iji, who apologized for his misleading warnings and promised to support him the best he can at his search for the secret treasure of Nokron. Before the Tarnished moved on to talk to Blaidd, the blacksmith said: “Let us give all that we can of ourselves. Together, for Lady Ranni.” The devotion and adoration in his voice was impossible to overhear.

Blaidd greeted the Tarnished with a wide grin, laying bare his fangs. “Ahh, long time, friend. Who would've thought we'd end up serving the same mistress? But it's good to have another capable sword on our side.”

It was only a projection of the half-wolf, so the Tarnished could see right through him. “Blaidd, I was told you have details on the task we're supposed to get done. With the whole becoming Elden Lord thing, I want to get a move on as fast as possible so I can get back on my way.”

For a moment he just looked at him, frowning, before he said: “Well. Getting right to business...” Blaidd crossed his muscular arms. “I'm still in Limgrave. The Eternal City of Nokron lies somewhere at the bottom of this land. I'm planning to go below through the well in the Mistwoods. See if I can't find the road to Nokron from there...”

“Don't head too far in without me. I'll try to get to you as fast as possible. Leave some fun for me”, the Tarnished grinned and Blaidd chuckled. “Don't leave me waiting for too long, eh?”

Last person to meet was Seluvis. The man wore a mask concealing his face and with his chin raised almost comically high he gave off an aura of arrogance. He too was just a projection. His voice was snarly and unpleasant. “I see... You must be Ranni's new hireling.”

The Tarnished took a breath to properly introduce himself, but the preceptor interrupted him. “Spare your breath, I've heard all about you. At least what's worth hearing. I am Seluvis, preceptor of the sorcerous arts.” He scoffed with open hostility. “I don't know what it is the mistress sees in a provincial Tarnished like you, but since we have the misfortune of serving the same lady, I ask that you kindly try not to drag us all down with you.”

Taken aback by the unjustified rude words, the Tarnished looked at Seluvis with raised eyebrows. As if he had just waited for any reaction so he could mock him further, the preceptor snarled: “Should I repeat myself a little slower, so you can understand me? I know it must be hard for someone like you to comprehend full sentences.”

Anger flared up inside him and the Tarnished just responded: “You really think you're going to get a real reaction out of me, don't you. Is it boredom? Is your life as a little sorcerer so uneventful you jump at the slightest opportunity to annoy people, so you get some semblance of entertainment?”

His words seemed to have an effect on the man. “My work is of utmost importance. But I wouldn't expect an imbecile like you to understand the gravity of it. If you want to see what real skill looks like... I reside in another tower, close by. Maybe I could help you be of actual service to Mistress Ranni. If it were up to me, I wouldn't waste my time on the likes of you.” With undeniable mockery in his voice, he added: “But who am I to stand against the wishes of my Lady.”

This man was someone he shouldn't trust, the Tarnished immediately realized that. A snake, ready to strike as soon as it gets the chance. Well, at least Sir Gideon Ofnir wasn't his least favorite person in the Lands Between anymore. “You are positively charming, aren't you?”

“I return the compliment right back at you. Now if you don't mind, I'd be grateful if you could finally go and relieve me from your presence.” The preceptor raised his chin even higher and the Tarnished left him. He would love to go to his tower and punch the arrogant geezer, but he figured it wasn't worth the trouble he might find himself in if he acted on his impulse. After all, Seluvis was part of Ranni's little court and he doubted she would be very happy about him beating the stuffing out of an old man.

Slightly annoyed the Tarnished returned up to Ranni, who still sat on the chair. Just now did he notice a detail he hadn't before and it took him all of his willpower to not start laughing. He knew it would not only be incredibly rude, but also might destroy any goodwill Ranni had with him. She sat on a stack of books, probably to make herself appear taller than she actually was. It was adorable. He wasn't so stupid as to underestimate her because of this... but he still felt a little more at ease. The whole fact of her being a talking and moving doll was still a mystery to him and he burned to hear her story, but for now he was satisfied with knowing she was human enough to feel a sense of vanity.

“I talked to your people, all of them good folks... well except maybe Seluvis. Are you sure he's really necessary? Something isn't right about him, he's plotting something.” He knew his words were brazen, but he just had a really bad feeling about the man. The way he seemed to look down on everyone, including Ranni, just didn't sit right with him.

“'Tis thy first hour in my service. And already thou claimest to know more about my followers than me? A bold one, aren't thee?” She slowly tilted her head and he avoided her gaze. “I... I just don't think he's actually interested in serving you.”

“Seluvis gave me and my family good service in the past. Know thy place, Tarnished.” Her voice was cold and reprimanding. “I am happy for thee joining into my service, but do not mistake mine open arms for weakness. I will have thee put in place, if thou wishest to sow conflict.”

The Tarnished nodded slowly. He needed evidence, not just pure gut feeling. Ranni seemed like a woman of logic, not putting much value into hunches based on irrational feelings. So he just sheepishly stared at the ground and mumbled: “Of course, Lady Ranni.”

Appeased she hummed, before saying: “Before thy departure, allow me to forewarn thee. I shall soon enter my slumber. And it will be some time before I wake. This doll's body is not without its hindrances...” There was a slight undertone of annoyance for a moment, but it was almost immediately gone. “Still, I have high hopes for thee. I look forward to the good news when I arise.”

She sounded like she actually believed he would manage to meet her high expectations and it made him smile. There was a person who finally believed in him. Even Melina had first doubted him, only trusting in his skill after he had defeated the Omen. The Tarnished would prove everyone who doubted him wrong! With his eyes sparkling eagerly, he directly met her gaze. “I won't disappoint you.”

Chapter Text

The Mistwoods were cold this early in the morning, the name giving mist seeping through his clothes and making the Tarnished shiver. Well, the mist and the huge Runebears prowling through the woods. Those behemoths were the reason why he was sneaking. He really didn't want to fight against one of them, especially since he had already made acquaintance with their sharp claws and fangs. It had been a rather painful experience.

He managed to reach the big well without being spotted. When he first discovered the well, he had decided against using the lift and instead find the source of the howling echoing through the wood. That's how he had met Blaidd.

Truth be told, the Tarnished had been ready to slay the half-wolf. The Lands Between were full of threats, a big wolf in armor didn't seem too much out of line. He had been glad when Blaidd had turned out to be an ally.

With careful steps the Tarnished stepped on the mechanism to activate the elevator that would take him down. First slowly, then increasingly faster he descended into the earth, surrounded by walls.

And further down.

And further.

And further.

Then the walls opened up and his eyes widened with the vista in front of him. He must be far underground, and yet... there were stars. Shining in whites, yellows and blues, the ceiling of the cave was obscured by what seemed like a full night's sky. It was surreal, yet breathtakingly beautiful.

After a few more moments, the elevator finally reached the bottom and stopped. Still in awe, the Tarnished stepped off the platform and looked up. How was this possible? Magic?

It was cold down here, but that had to be expected by the depth. In front of him was a field of ruins, columns tumbled over into the water and crumbling walls of once big buildings. A majority of the structure was blemished but still intact and the Tarnished supposed that this once was a temple of sorts. What made him cautious were the vast amounts of tombstones everywhere. Some not even at knee height, while others towered above him.

He proceeded through shallow water until he reached the main building of the temple after climbing up some stairs. When he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, he immediately twirled around. A creature was slowly approaching him, its skin brown and giving off the impression of bubbling. It made gurgling sounds and had its deformed hands wrapped around a spear.

The Tarnished raised his blade and brought it down on the enemy. The metal sank lazily into the skin and flesh of the creature, apparently not fazing it in the slightest. He almost wasn't able to retreat his sword and simultaneously avoiding the spear of his opponent. A little clumsy he stumbled back and watched how the deep cut on the creature's shoulder slowly stitched itself back together. It seemed to be made out of mud.

Could it even be slain? He decided to hit it again, this time trying to cut the head clean off its shoulders. Halfway through the neck his sword yet again lost momentum and this time he had to abandon his sword, so he could roll to the side in time. Back on his feet, the Tarnished forced his blade out of the sticky mud. In the process of doing so, he cut through the remainder of the creature's neck. With one last pitiful gurgling sound it melted into a puddle of goo and mud.

With the tip of his shoe he poked at the corpse. What was this? Before he could do further investigations, he realized that more of the mud men were approaching him. Over a dozen of them sluggishly walked towards him and he decided that he would win nothing by fighting those tough bastards.

He ran as fast as he could, just to not get completely encircled by the masses of mud men. His way led him to another elevator, that took him up. As he stepped out into a narrow, surrounded by rock walls, he called for Torrent.

The spectral steed huffed and the Tarnished padded his neck. Now on horseback, he continued his way until the narrow opened up and he found himself on a big open space. He tried to find Blaidd, but didn't see him. Torrent snorted and pulled the reins slightly and when the Tarnished looked in the direction his companion was pointing, he saw the half-wolf standing on a cliff.

“Ah Torrent, what would I do without you”, he said smiling while padding the neck of the steed again. “A lot more walking, probably.” Torrent huffed in agreement to that last statement.

As they approached Blaidd, the man kept his gaze directed upwards. He looked rather displeased. “Why the long face?”, the Tarnished asked as he dismounted Torrent.

“Ah, good to see you”, Blaidd mumbled, finally directly looking at him.

“Is anything the matter?”

“Apologies mate, but I don't have much to report.” He pointed up to where he had been staring. The Tarnished saw the ominous ruins towering above them. Lots of pointy roofs and buildings made of almost black stone. “I can see bloody Nokron, right above me, but I'm absolutely stumped. I've tried all the gateways, to no avail... Perhaps it's time to ask Seluvis?”

“Oh please don't tell me we have to rely on that one... Is there really no way?” The Tarnished really didn't want to talk to the preceptor if it could be avoided.

Blaidd nodded. “I can't stand the guy either, but we still should talk to him. I recall that spiteful rat acting like he knew something... Let's give him a squeeze. Show him just how sharp my teeth are.” He grinned and revealed some rather sharp looking teeth.

“I mean I'm on board to bear witness... and of course to intervene this attack on our ally... maybe.”

The half-wolf laughed. “I jest, I wouldn't go that far. Besides, I should check on some things here. Leave this place to me. You do what you feel is right.”

“You just want me to take care of talking to Selucis because you don't want to talk him, don't you?” The Tarnished pulled a grimace. “Eh, fine.”

“I appreciate your selfless sacrifice.” Blaidd smirked. “If either of us learns anything, we tell the other. Right?”

“Of course. Stay safe.”, the Tarnished said while climbing back into Torrent's saddle. Blaidd nodded. “You too, mate.”

------------------------------------

“T-Torrent... You have to move on without me... I don't think I can make it”, the Tarnished coughed dramatically, as he stood in front of Seluvis's tower. Torrent looked down at him, before nudging him. “Can't you just talk to him?” His steed stomped with a hoove and he sighed. “Fine, fine... No need to get so aggressive.” He took a deep breath. “If I don't return, tell Blaidd this was all his fault.”

With reluctant steps he entered the tower. On the first look it was exactly like Ranni's, though a little smaller. The preceptor was slouched over some scrolls, not even noticing as the Tarnished entered. After a moment of awkward silence, said Tarnished cleared his throat to get his attention. Immediately the old man jumped up and hastily closed the scrolls he was reading. “Who... Oh, you.”

“Yes, me.”

“You actually took me up on my word. Did you not realize I was merely being polite? You provincials never cease to amaze...”, he snarled and the Tarnished already wanted to put some dents into this stupid mask of his. However, he needed his help, so he just swallowed his pride. “Yeah yeah, you think I'm stupid, I got it. As much as I would absolutely love to hear you insult me further, I want to keep this meeting short. Do you have any idea how we can enter Nokron?”

“Well, well. You're asking me about that, are you?” Seluvis sounded like he just had been waiting for an opportunity to say that. “The task was left to you and the mongrel, was it not? Not only are you incompetent, but shameless to boot. Why are we keeping this cabinet of curiosities even running, when it is me who is doing all the work in the end? Well... There's no helping it. Now's as good a time as any. I'll let you in on it.” He sighed. “There's a glintstone sorcerer by the name of Sellen in Limgrave. She owes me for the help I gave her when she was expelled from the academy. I asked her to look into the matter some time ago.” He turned to his table and pulled a sheet of paper from one of the drawers. While he started writing with an exotic looking feather, he said: “I'll write you a letter of introduction. Go ask her.”

“Thank you, Seluvis.” The Tarnished couldn't stand the old man, but that did not mean he would forget his manners. He already knew where to find Sellen, so it should be easy to get the information he needed.

When Seluvis was done writing the letter, he handed it to the Tarnished. “Let's just hope you can manage at least the rest of your task without my assistance. My studies demand my fullest attention and having the likes of you disrupting me constantly is a true nuisance.”

“What are you working on?” It was a polite question. A question he really didn't expect to get an answer on, besides some insults maybe. But Seluvis surprised him. “A draught. It just needs some final touches and then... ah, pure delight.”

Something about the excited way the old man spoke gave him the creeps. So to avoid getting him more riled up, he merely said: “You have to tell me more about your craft, next time we meet.”

“And here I thought you were nothing but a simpleton, entranced by our dear Lady Ranni. But maybe I was mistaken.” He chuckled and the Tarnished only barely managed to not raise an eyebrow at how obviously this man was acting like he was scheming something. And whatever it was, his next target seemed to be Ranni.

Without another word the Tarnished left Seluvis where he was. He walked ahead, lost in thought and planning what to do next. So he needed to talk to Sellen, who might give him an idea on how to enter Nokron. Then he had to retrieve that ominous treasure and bring it back to Ranni.

His eyes wandered to Ranni's Rise and he wondered how she was doing. She told him she would be sleeping for a few days, so he doubted she was already back up. Thinking about that, he got reminded about how he would love to sleep for a while himself.

He yawned, while he walked through some of the ruins that could be found on the plateau. Maybe he should set up camp somewhere here and then continue his mission the next morning? Cook himself something nice to eat, before falling asleep besides a warm campfire...

With a loud yelp the Tarnished fell through a part that looked like solid stone. Another illusion. His contact with the ground was rather uncomfortable. He got up, cursing the Carians for their damn illusion magic.

He had landed on a staircase, leading further down. With a frown he followed the stairs, long having decided that his dinner would have to wait a little. His curiosity got the better of him, like it so often did.

The stairs led into a big room, filled with Glintstone and bookshelves. With a furrowed brow the Tarnished stepped forward, when he saw a person kneeling on the ground, their arms limp on their sides and the face towards the sky. “Hello?”

He received no answer and even when he stepped closer to the figure it didn't move. Upon closer inspection he could see that this was a person made of flesh and blood, but there was absolutely no reaction. Even when the Tarnished poked the person they didn't so much as blink.

With a bad feeling lurking in the back of his mind, he continued on exploring the room. At first glance he didn't discover anything besides a few more of those paralyzed people, but then he squinted his eyes at one of the walls... Without problem he stepped through the solid looking stone into a secret little chamber.

There was a bed, a desk and another motionless person in this room. The Tarnished frowned. The person looked exactly like Sellen... What in the name of Grace was going on here? He took a look around the little room. It was pretty obvious what had happened here, so he kept his proper distance from the bed.

On the desk were a few roles scattered and he picked one up. Someone with a rather ornate way of writing had written down some recipes for a potion on the coarse paper. The potion was described as a way to “produce the finest puppets” and the Tarnished felt nauseous when he read that for the creation of said puppet a person had to be available. The better the condition “the greater the delight”.

With slow steps he backed out of the room. So that was what Seluvis had been working on. That was even worse than what he had anticipated and he started feeling sullied just by being in this cellar. He got back to the surface and shuddered.

His plans had changed a little. He'd first go see if Sellen was well and ask her about Nokron. Then he'd get the treasure out of the eternal city. And lastly he would find out what Seluvis was planning to do to Ranni and stop the sleazy bastard.

At least he wasn't hungry anymore...

Chapter Text

“Look what the cat dragged in. What is it, Tarnished? Changed your mind about the sorcerous arts?” Sellen was obviously smirking underneath her stone mask. He wondered what the face underneath that stony facade looked like.

“I see you're doing well, Sellen.” The Tarnished slightly bowed his head and smiled at her. He was relieved that she apparently wasn't trapped in Seluvis's dungeon.

“Avoiding my questions won't bring you any good, Tarnished”, she merely said with that pleasant accent of hers. He sighed and shook his head “If you treat all your visitors like that, then no wonder no one wants to learn from you.”

“Tss, watch your tongue. I just don't have time to spare for idle chitchat.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “If it hurts your tender feelings, you're free to go.”

The Tarnished fished out the letter Seluvis had given him. “I'm actually here with a question. It is in regards to Nokron.”

Without another word Sellen took the piece of paper out of his hands and started reading. After a few moments she lowered the letter and seemed to be directly looking at him. “Well, well... it appears the little tadpole has found a master. Are you planing on turning into a toad, or why did you join the lunar witch?” She chuckled, obviously very satisfied with her comment.

“Unlike every other sorcerer I've encountered thus far, Lady Ranni has been nothing but good to me.” He felt he had to defend his mistress, despite the words of Sellen being nothing more than a teasing side jab. The Graven Witch stopped chuckling and ever so slightly tilted her head. “My oh my... A knight in shining armor, defending his Lady. How romantic.”

Immediately the Tarnished blushed and looked at his feet. “Don't say something so stupid. I serve Lady Ranni, that's all.” How could she say something so audacious?!

“Ha, sure.” Before he could argue again, she raised a hand. “Regarding your little letter... Seluvis is not a name I ever wanted to hear again.” She sighed. “But fine. If it will help you, little Tarnished, I offer my knowledge.”

He smiled. “Thank you, Sellen.”

The sorceress huffed, before starting to talk. “The stars alter the fate of the Carian royal family. And the fate of your dear mistress, Ranni. But long ago, Genera Radahn challenged the swirling constellations, and in a crushing victory, arrested their cycles. Now, he is the force that repulses the stars.” Sellen made a vague gesture with her hand. “If General Radahn were to die, the stars would resume their movement. And so, too, would Ranni's destiny.”

The Tarnished put a hand on his chin in thought, mirroring the Graven Witch. “But isn't Radahn also from the Carian royal family? Why would he do that, knowing the consequences for his family?”

“Oh, the man probably didn't know. All he knew about was a grim vision of his beloved city Sellia being destroyed by the very stars.” Sellen sounded proud when she added: “I myself found out about the tight connection between the Carian's destiny and the stars. It took me quite some time, so I really hope you appreciate my willingness to give you this knowledge without expecting recompense.” She sneered. “And tell Seluvis to never bother me again.”

With an understanding nod he answered: “I will do that. Thank you again, Sellen, you helped me a lot.”

“Ah, who am I to stand between a loyal Tarnished and his wish to serve his beloved Lady?”, she started again and with a groan the Tarnished turned around to leave. “Goodbye, Sellen.”

“I expect an invitation to the wedding, tadpole.”

------------------------------------

“Hmmm... So Ranni's fate is kept in stasis by Starscourge Radahn...” Blaidd put one massive hand at his chin. “That reminds me of something I heard. There's a festival being held at the castle on the southern edge of the Caelid Wilds, east of Limgrave.” His eyes sparked with excitement. “It's a festival of combat. And I heard... that you can fight Radahn himself. He who was once called the strongest of all the demigods...”

“Do you think Ranni is fine with that... I mean he is her brother after all.” The Tarished wasn't to sure about the plan of killing Radahn.

Blaidd shook his head, looking a little sad. “The creature roaming the Caelid Wilds isn't the Radahn our mistress called her bother. That man died many years ago.”

“Oh...”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Let's move on. Whether those rumors I've heard are true or not, I think it's worth investigating. I'll be on my way to this festival then... You'll be coming too, right?”

“The prospect of fighting against a man who was once regarded the strongest of his kind... You bet your furry ass I'm coming.” The Tarnished grinned and Blaidd gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder that almost sent him tumbling. “That's what I wanted to hear! Let's get going then. I have enough of this bloody cave for now.”

After an uneventful journey back to the surface of Limgrave, the Tarnished looked up at Blaidd. “This is going to be a long way if I go by foot. Will you be able to keep up when I ride on Torrent?”

The half-wolf huffed amused. “Unlike you I don't have little stumps for walking. I'll be fine.”

When the Tarnished called Torrent, he mumbled: “I have perfectly normal legs...” Sitting firm in Torrent's saddle, he leaned forward and whispered to his companion in an impish tone: “Let's make that overgrown dog look old.” Torrent neighed excited.

“I've heard you, you know?” Blaidd smiled a wolfish smile. “And I accept you challenge.” That last sentence was directed at Torrent, who stomped with one hoof and nudged the half-wolf playfully. Both the Tarnished and the Carian knight laughed.

“Ready when you are.” Blaidd looked up to the Tarnished in the saddle, who patted Torrent's neck. “I was just waiting for you, old man.”

And with that the three of them were racing each other across the beautiful landscape of Limgrave. The sun was already about to set, when Baidd suggested to set up camp for the night. The Tarnished, feeling a little stiff after hours in the saddle, was more than happy to agree. They found a little nook in a rock wall, keeping them safe from the wind and any surprise attacks.

Blaidd surprised him when he started cooking. After putting a little black pot over the campfire the Tarnished had build, he cut some vegetables like onions, carrots and potatoes into rough pieces and threw them alongside some chunks of red meat into the pot. After roasting the food for a few minutes, stirring it vigorously all the while, he put some clear water in the pot and added some salt and pepper. He let the stew simmer for a few minutes, before preparing the Tarnished and himself a bowl.

“Where did you learn to cook?”, the Tarnished asked while tasting. It was delicious. He was leaning against Torrent, who was laying behind him, exhausted from a day of galloping and racing. The flanks of his steed slowly rose and fell as he peacefully slept. Torrent didn't even touch the generous amount of Rowa raisins the Tarnished had left him on the ground.

“It's a habit born of necessity. Iji mainly eats raw meat, a diet that never quite sit well with my stomach. Ranni doesn't eat and I wouldn't want to spent a second more than necessary with Seluvis.” Blaidd shoveled a big piece of meat into his mouth. “It's nice to finally have some company at dinner.”

“How long have you been serving Ranni already?”

“Always. The sole purpose of my existence is to serve and protect her”, he sounded proud. “I'd never let harm come her way... Not again, at least.”

“Are you two... you know...” The Tarnished made exaggerated kissing sounds and Blaidd snorted. “She's like a sister to me. I grew up alongside her and her mother, Queen Rennala, even accepted me as one of her own children.” There was a tinge of sadness in his voice. “I've truly been blessed. Despite of what I am, I have received so much love. That's why I will never... I could never...”

He didn't notice his rambling and only when he saw the confused look on the Tarnished's face he stopped. “Don't look at me like that. Ask Ranni for the details, I don't know how much she wants you to know. If I tell you stuff she doesn't want you to know, she gets mad at me.” He shivered and continued eating. “And she's one scary lady when she's mad.”

The Tarnished could imagine that all too well, so he didn't probe. Though the picture of the tall and muscular Blaidd quivering before an enraged petite Ranni was rather amusing. One question nonetheless slipped his mind: “The whole doll thing... Has she always been like that?”

Blaidd stopped in the midst of a scoop and seemed to be mulling over whether or not he should answer. Then he reluctantly said: “No... She once had a body of flesh. Because of circumstances that are not mine to explain, she had to abandon that body.” The memory seemed to be vivid in his mind and the Tarnished wondered, if he had been present when it had happened.

“Hmmm.” The Tarnished wondered what had happened. That woman was a mystery and something inside of him wanted to know more, to unravel that mystery just a little. He shook his head and finished his meal. Maybe he'd one day have the opportunity to talk with Ranni about all his questions.

“Why do you keep on asking about our mistress?” The half-wolf looked at him with a suspicious spark in his eyes. “Are you fancying her?” He was barely able to hide his smirk.

“Fist Sellen, now you. Grace, can't a man just be invested in someone without having a romantic interest?!” The Tarnished pouted and crossed his arms. Torrent raised his head and huffed his part, basically saying “Yeah I'm also pretty sure you like her”. The Tarnished glared at the steed. “Et tu, Torrent?” He felt betrayed.

“I mean you were surprisingly eager to serve her.” The half-wolf had his eyebrows raised, which looked funny with his face.

“She made some compelling arguments! And how could I refuse a fair Lady that asked me... Okay I can see how that might look like I have ulterior motives.” Deflated he let his shoulders drop and Blaidd laughed wholeheartedly. “If it gives you any comfort, I think you'd be a good match for her. You're just as driven as her and even if she doesn't show it often, she has a soft spot for lovable idiots.” He stopped laughing and looked straight faced at him. “Please don't tell her I told you that.”

The Tarnished sighed. “I'm not trying to court her and even if I were interested in her in that way, she's unreachable for me. Also who are you calling idiot, you asshat?”

“I said lovable idiot. That's a compliment.”

“Aha.” He wasn't convinced.

“And for the unreachable problem: I grew up in house Caria. All we ever did was reach for the stars. So don't give up hope just yet.”

“Are you trying to pair me off with your sister?” With one raised eyebrow he looked at Blaidd, who shrugged his shoulders. “I told you, I bet you're a good match for her. And Gods know, she deserves a little bit of happiness...” His voice got somber and he stood up. “We'll be arriving at Redmane Castle tomorrow, you should rest up.” Blaidd wrapped his cloak a little tighter around his body as the temperatures continued to drop. “I'll wake you up when it's your turn with guard duty.”

The Tarnished nodded and wrapped himself in his cloak. Still leaning against Torrent, he slowly drifted into sleep. His dreams were filled with the cold of winter, the calming light of the moon and the warm smile of a certain doll-witch.

Chapter Text

The atmosphere in the castle was almost solemn. The soldiers patrolling the grounds kept an eye on the visitors, but no one attacked them. The banners of Redmane swayed in the warm wind of Caelid.

The Tarnished had been in the scorched wastelands of Caelid before, but he never ventured as far in as he was now. The sickly sweet stench of Scarlet Rot was extremely bad here, so close to the battlefield on which Malenia and Radahn had clashed all those years ago. The further they went from Limgrave's borders, the more visible the influence of the rot became. Everything was infected. It was a hostile environment, but Blaidd had told him that it hadn't always been like that.

Before the Shattering Caelid had been a beautiful land. Dry and hot, but full of life and beauty. Now all that was left was a festering wound.

After walking through the castle for a while, they finally reached a yard. A few people were there, waiting for the battle to start. Among them, the Tarnished spotted a familiar figure. With a big smile he called out: “Alexander!”

The warrior jar turned around. “Ah, I just knew I would find you here, my friend. The call of battle beckoned you to come, did it not?”

“Well I'm more out of duty here. However, that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun.” He smirked and Alexander laughed hearty. “Ha ha ha, well said.” The jar crossed his arms and turned towards Blaidd. “My name is Iron Fist Alexander, what might be your name?”

“Name's Blaidd”, he answered with a grin, showing off his sharp teeth. “Always a pleasure to meet a fellow warrior.”

“Splendit!” Alexander seemed thrilled. “The more the merrier. This battle will be one for the ages! To think, I could face a great champion of the Shattering, a demigod in the flesh...”

“Champions, welcome!” A loud voice echoed through the yard and all the fighters focused on the man that was standing atop one of the walls on a little stage. The announcer wore some extravagant and colorful clothes, that almost looked like they belonged to the jester at a royal court. His hands were folded on the hilt of a flamberge. “The stars have aligned! The festival is nigh!” The man put all his energy into his words. “General Radahn, mightiest demigod of the Shattering, awaits you! Champions, prepare for battle! Defeat the general, claim glory, and grab the Great Rune!” He looked at each present contender. “A celebration of war! The Radahn Festival!” With a beaming smile he raised his sword and the present fighters howled and cheered.

The Tarnished felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck rise and excitement flooded him. He wanted to fight. With a grim smile he started to walk towards the stairs that led out of the yard. Blaidd followed him, while Alexander said: “I will follow shortly. I just have to finish some last preparations.”

“See you on the battlefield, then.” The Tarnished and the half-wolf made their way toward the elevator that would take them down to the scorched planes of the Caelid wilds. While they stepped on the mechanism of the elevator, Blaidd said: “Let's give 'em a show to remember, eh.”

He nodded, a hand already on the hilt of his blade. The battle ahead wouldn't be easy, but that was part of the thrill after all. There was no glory to be won in a battle with no challenge.

“Just don't you go dying on me.” Blaidd winked mischievous when he added: “For Ranni's sake, too.”

The Tarnished huffed amused. “Oh, you be careful too. I imagine she'd be much more upset when I drag the corpse of her brother back, like some oversize cat.”

“She has always been more of a dog person, despite being a witch.” He chuckled and the Tarnished joined in. With an audible devotion in his voice, he muttered: “Let's set the stars back into motion for Lady Ranni.” It was strange, he'd only known the witch for a few days and yet he felt a strange sense of duty towards her. A part of him wondered if she had cast some kind of spell onto him.

Blaidd looked slightly surprised at him, then he shook his head. The Tarnished heard him mumble under his breath. “It's not like that, huh?”

When the elevator reached the bottom, the two stepped off it. The path ahead led to a portal, the magic inside it swirling in the most interesting colors. Without hesitation the two warriors stepped through it. For a moment the world was black, before they reached their destination.

The sand underneath their feet red and scorched, the sky hung over with thick clouds, they found themselves on an old battlefield. There was no other portal. No way back. All or nothing.

Weapons and pieces of armor were scattered over the sandy plane, the occasional corpse filling out the protective gear. The Tarnished felt how his heartbeat fastened. There on the horizon he was, towering at a size seeming ridiculous for the small horse underneath him. General Radahn, conqueror of the stars.

Blaidd gave his Tarnished companion a menacing grin. “This is it. Let's do this. Together, brother.” He held one hand out and the Tarnished took his arm in a warrior's handshake. “Together, bro-”

Fumph!

An arrow, the size of his whole body, ripped the Tarnished away. It impaled him through the stomach, searing straight through him. He was dead before the arrow even lost momentum.

Darkness.

When he returned to the battlefield a few minutes later, Blaidd was in the progress of evading arrows. The other participants of the battle also tried to get through to the general.

“What the fuck was that, Tarnished?” A projectile only barely missed Blaidd.

“Well... Let's not talk about it.” The Tarnished tried to overplay his embarrassment. As impossible as it seemed, Radahn managed to keep everyone at a distance with his precise arrows. No one so far had managed to get to him to challenge him in direct combat.

“I take the lead”, the Tarnished shouted and called for Torrent. In full gallop he charged towards the demigod, his steed evading the arrows that were shot at them with ease. The closer he came to Radahn, the more ridiculous his size became. He was towering at four times the size of the Tarnished.

When the Tarnished was almost clashing with the demigod, he drew his sword. Radahn wielded two ginormous curved swords that buzzed with magical energy. The first hit only missed him barely, the second connected. It knocked the air out of his lungs, sending him flying out of Torrent's saddle. His impact on the ground was dampened by the sand. He didn't even get the chance to get up, when another hit connected with his body.

Before Radahn could land one last, fatal, blow, Blaidd reached him and distracted him. The demigod roared when the greatsword of the shadow sank into his thigh. Even the nimble half-wolf had problems to evade the heavy swings directed at him.

The Tarnished slowly got on his feet, spitting out a mixture of blood and shattered teeth. His mouth was one pain, only worsened for a moment when the sickly sweet crimson tears he drank ran through it. But after another moment the wounds closed and the pain dimmed to a slight throb.

While he healed up, Radahn managed to land a hit on Blaidd. With a yelp the tall man went tumbling over the sand, like he weighed nothing. The ugly crunching sound of breaking bones was audible even from the distance.

Thankfully the other participants had closed up to them by now, so Blaidd had enough time to get back up. He held his side, visibly in pain. “Are you okay?”, the Tarnished shouted over the noise of the fight, hurrying to his comrade.

“A few broken ribs. Nothing that will keep me from fighting. Just... give me one second.” Blaidd wiped away some blood from his brow, his strained way of breathing a clear indicator he was hurt more badly than he made it out to be. Before the Tarnished could say anything else, he heard the dying scream of one of the other fighters. Radahn had cut him in half, sending guts and bits of flesh flying everywhere. Fresh blood soaked the dead ground.

With nimble steps the Tarnished charged back into the fray. His hands firm around his sword, he managed to land two hard hits that broke through the stance of the demigod. A third slash managed to rip off the helmet of the general. Stone gray skin on a face that surely once had been handsome. His golden eyes shone, though there was no intelligence left in them. A living corpse, forced to continue fighting because he couldn't die. A terrible fate.

The blades the demigod held buzzed with a purple hue and an unimaginable force pushed the Tarnished down to his knees. Only with immense strength he managed to roll to the side, barely avoiding to meet the same fate as the other fighter had. Though now he was out of the range of the spell, so he could jump again and burrow his blade deep into the torso of Radahn.

He howled in an inhumane way and a push of gravity magic made the Tarnished stumble backwards. Red sand flew everywhere, stinging in his eyes. With a little hiss he shielded them from the sand. When he could lower his arm again, Radahn was gone.

Frantically he looked around, trying to spot his opponent. When he saw that the remaining fighters all looked to the sky, he followed their gaze. The night's sky was undisturbed, a crescent moon building the centerpiece of it. Though it was strange that all the clouds that had covered it before were gone, the Tarnished thought.

Then he saw the fireball, descending fast from the sky right towards the group of fighters. Without thinking a moment, he started running and shouted: “Move!” Just seconds later Radahn crashed down where he had been standing before, causing a crater. A few of the other contestants managed to escape the attack, the others were basically torn to shreds by the immeasurable force behind the impact. Of the original eight fighters, only three remained.

Among those was Alexander, who tried hitting Radahn but was quickly smacked to the side, as if nothing more but a pesky insect. The warrior jar tumbled over the sand and the Tarnished was glad he didn't break from the force behind the hit.

After getting rid of his attacker, the demigod charged towards the Tarnished. With a grimace said Tarnished went into a fighting stance. He had no chance to even hope to block a direct attack from the general, but he had a different plan in mind. With gritted teeth he waited until the last moment to jump to the side, throwing his sword while doing so. The force behind his throw was enough and the blade sank into the neck of Radahn. It wasn't deep enough to kill him, though.

But the mindless zombie did exactly what the Tarnished had hoped for. He raised his blades, clashing them together with gravitational magic buzzing, to pull his opponent closer. This exact spell drove the sword sticking in his neck deeper, making him croak in surprise as black, viscous blood oozed out of the wound and his mouth. The smell was horrible, like a rotting corpse in the summer sun.

Radahn fell from his horse onto the sand, motionless. With careful steps, the Tarnished approached him to confirm the death of the demigod. The horse just stood there, nudging his owner as if to beg him to get up. With a grimace he pulled his sword out of the neck of the general, who remained without any sign of life. Then the Tarnished felt the immense surge in energy coursing through him, as he obtained the runes Radahn had carried, including the Great Rune. Now he was certain he was dead.

With an exhausted sound he let himself fall to the ground. Another Great Rune in his possession, another step closer to his goal to become Elden Lord and restore the Elden Ring. He wondered however, if that was still the way he would go down... Would he restore the Golden Order, like Grace had intended, or would he use his power to help Ranni see her plan become reality? He groaned and rubbed his face. It was a question he would ask himself later.

Suddenly, he saw a shooting star fly across the sky. Then another. And another. Over a hundred stars, flying over his head at breakneck speed in one and the same direction. With wide eyes the Tarnished got to his feet and looked at where the stars were flying. For a moment the horizon was lit up by a blinding white light that made him shield his eyes.

As the light faded and the darkness of the night returned, he slowly lowered his hand. He supposed that those were the stars kept in stasis by Radahn, now back in motion. Now the path to Nokron was finally open.

“You...” Blaidd stepped towards him, still holding his injured ribs. “What a sick way to fight, eh.” He sounded excited and a big smile spread across his face. “The glory of the clash is shared, by Radahn and you. And hah! Did you see that, afterwards? A falling star right before our eyes! I can't fathom how Radahn was holding back something of that scale. He was a living legend, if I ever saw one... I just wish I could've been of more help.”

“You saved my ass, don't discredit yourself.” The Tarnished pulled out his Crimson Tear flask and offered it to Blaidd. “This should help with your injuries.”

“Nah, mate. It might heal a Tarnished, but I'm afraid it won't have the same effect on me. Grace doesn't feel too favorably towards me.” He made a dismissive gesture with his left. “Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.” His blue eyes were sparking. “Now the path is clear. To Nokron, where Ranni's fate will be decided.”

The Tarnished put his blade back into the sheath. “Shall we go then?”

Blaidd looked disgruntled and mumbled: “I... I need to rest a little before I'll be able to join you. You go ahead, though.”

With a frown on his face, the Tarnished asked: “Are you sure? I have no problem waiting.”

“No. For so many years Ranni has been waiting to begin the final stretch of her journey, I can't be the reason she has to wait any longer.” The half-wolf laughed joyless. “We'll meet again where the falling star bit the earth .You will manage to get there alone, I'm sure.”

“Well yes, but I can't cook for shit. It would've been nice to have someone around who can.” The Tarnished smirked and Blaidd laughed loud, before holding his side with a groan. “Ah, don't make me laugh! Get moving, I will catch up. We'll take up our swords once more. For mistress Ranni.”

The Tarnished gave him a slap on the shoulder, before he turned to leave. When he spotted Alexander at the foot of one of the dunes, though, he decided to first check on the warrior jar. He had received a pretty hefty hit too, after all.

Indeed, a few big crack were visible on his body. “Alexander, are you alright?” The jar was on the ground, before him a corpse of one of Malenia's Cleanrot Knights. “A-Ah, hello there. It was a battle marvelously fought. You are well and true a champion, friend.” His voice was downcast. “I, on the other hand, am nothing but a crock. One hit was all it took to crack me, and for my insides to come spilling out... After that, I hid like a coward... And as such, I can hardly stand to face someone such as you”

“There's nothing wrong in that. It's better to flee and live to see another day, than to die.” He watched the living jar inspect the corpse thoroughly and wondered what Alexander was planning on doing with it.

“... But don't you think I've given up just yet. As luck would have it, there's a veritable mountain of warrior's bodies right here.” He picked up the body with one hand, then opened the sealed lid on his head. The Tarnished almost retched from the stench creeping into his nostrils. At a glimpse he spotted multiple decaying corpses, swimming in a soup of red fluids. With delighted humming Alexander squeezed the body, including armor and weapon, into his insides, before sealing himself with the lid again.

A little disturbed by what he just witnessed, the Tarnished stared at Alexander, who got back to his feet. “Just you wait and see, friend. I'll grow even stronger! Just you wait when next we meet!” Chuckling he started moving on to the next corpse and the Tarnished turned to leave. The Lands Between and its denizens would never cease to surprise him.

Chapter Text

He threw a stone down the crater and watched it disappear in the depths. The Tarnished tried listening to a sound when the stone would hit the ground, but he couldn't hear it. With a frown he stepped back from the edge.

The star had come down in Limgrave, not too far from Castle Haight, ripping a sizable wound into the earth and revealing the underlying cave. It had been difficult to locate the exact crash sight at first, since he had nothing but a rough direction. Close to the Mistwoods it had become easy though. Ginormous rocks hung suspended in the air, held aloft by residual gravitational magic.

So close at the point of impact, the air was still hot and hard to breathe. The Tarnished didn't want to imagine what fate had awaited everyone in close proximity. Though it probably had been over fast, at least.

“Blaidd, where are you?”, he mumbled slightly annoyed. It had been two days. By now he expected the half-wolf to at least get here. All the waiting made him antsy. Not only did he want to finally proceed on his way to become Elden Lord, his curiosity was driving him mad. He wanted to know what Nokron looked like, what treasure he might find in the ruins and what enemies awaited him.

With a frustrated sigh he sat down at the campfire he had set up close to the crater, listlessly stirring his stew. It consisted of some game he had been able to hunt, a few potatoes and a couple of wild tomatoes he had found. He had already tasted it... it was horrible.

The Tarnished contemplated on whether or not he should advance alone, retrieving that ominous treasure from Nokron and then start looking for Blaidd's whereabouts. An impatient neighing made him look up at Torrent, who scraped a hoof over the earth. “What? You want some raisins?” When his steed nudged him roughly into the side, shoving him towards the crater, he laughed. “You're curious too, aren't you?” Another push, this time with the sharp point of one of the horns.

With a yelp the Tarnished jumped up, rubbing his side where Torrent had poked him. “Okay, okay! When Blaidd gets mad, I will blame you, though.” He climbed into the saddle and started the descent down the crater. Thanks to Torrent's ability to jump great distances, it was easy reaching the protrusion at the side of the crater, that lead into another area.

When he climbed out of Torrent's saddle, the steed retreated into the spirit realm, making it clear he was on his own from now on. A little snubbed the Tarnished mumbled: “Bringing me to go down here and now just leaving me... thanks a lot.” He shrugged and continued on his way.

Out of the crater he stepped into what seemed like the inside of a building. The impact of the falling star had left its marks here too, the floor was caved in at a lot of places, opening up into a yawning abyss. The walls and ceiling were intricately decorated, showing the wealth of the former inhabitants. Instead of torches there were blue flames lighting up the room.

Stepping out of the building, a cave opened up before him, gigantic stalactites were hanging from the ceiling and the same artificial stars as the ones he had seen at the Siofra floated in the air. Now he definitely was sure he was on the right track. Buildings, made of almost black stone and interesting architecture, were also visible. They were structurally mostly intact, though some of them tilted in a way that suggested they could fall down any moment. The Tarnished moved carefully, as he stepped on one of the building's roofs, expecting it to give in under his weight. It stayed intact.

The black shingles made him treat carefully, scared to slip and fall into the bottomless depth underneath. So far he only once died by falling and he surely wasn't planning on repeating it.

When he jumped from one building to the next, he stepped into a puddle of black goo. It was sticky and looked like oil, but when it started to move the Tarnished immediately hopped to the side. The blob of black goo formed a stinger out of a part of its own body, then threw it after him. Thankfully he reacted fast enough and rolled away, painfully aware of the little space he had up here.

He drew his sword and wondered, how he should attack this creature... was it even a living being? Whatever it was, now was not the time to ponder. His hands firm around the hilt of the sword, he let the blade go down on his enemy. The slime seemed to lose all surface tension and returned to a black puddle. Skeptical, the Tarnished kneeled down and inspected the ooze. It was so black, it almost seemed to absorb the light surrounding it. He rubbed some of it between his thumb and index finger, watching how it pulled strings when he opened his fingers.

With a slight grimace he wiped the residual slime off his hands on his pants, then he continued. Those creatures by themselves obviously weren't dangerous, though he could see them become rather bothersome in a group. He should watch out not to get trapped.

As he proceeded on his way, he encountered a couple more of the slimes, but also some human like creatures. They were pale to the point of almost looking completely white and some of them wielded torches that emitted cold instead of warmth. Crossing an open plaza, he fought quite a few of those husks. Just like the slimes, they didn't pose much of a threat alone, but where quite dangerous in a group.

Past the plaza was a set of stairs, leading down. A singular figure was standing on the stairs, adorning a delicate armor that was both elegant and practical. The face of the person was veiled by white cloth, so the Tarnished couldn't see their features. His hopes of maybe finally encountering someone friendly were quickly squashed, when the person lashed out with a sword. It reacted like a whip, stretching out and soaring through the air towards the Tarnished.

A quick sidestep saved him from getting hurt. His blade cut right through the armor of the person, making their insides spill to the outside. As he walked past the corpse, he wondered if those were the former inhabitants of Nokron.

From the stairs, he stepped into an open room. It was a big, open area and the Tarnished had a hunch that a fight was coming. And sure enough, he spotted his opponent right in the middle of the room. It was a slime. Sitting there was one of the black gooey creatures he had already fought plenty of on his way here. He smirked and walked leisurely towards it. This was hardly even a fight.

Then the slime collapsed in on itself and in a puff of smoke it rose to a new height, taking a distinct form. Only seconds later, the transformation was completed and before him stood an exact copy of himself. It even wore the same equipment as him.

“Wha-” The Tarnished stumbled backwards, majorly freaked out by what just happened. The mimic stormed towards him, swinging the bastardsword – the same bastardsword he held in his hands – at him. While he rolled to the side, the mimic followed up with another swing, cutting him deeply on his thigh. He hissed in pain, but quickly rolled again so he wouldn't be beheaded.

Back on his feet, he took a swing himself, aiming for the mimic's throat. He missed barely, but when he followed up with a kick he disturbed the balance of his opponent for long enough to land a hit. The severed arm fell to the ground, but no blood flowed. However, the creature screamed with his voice, making him shudder.

Though now with only one arm, the mimic didn't stop attacking him. The swings still carried remarkable strength. For a few moments they were locked in a battle of high intensity. Blades clashing against each other and filling the arena with the sound of metal on metal. Then, more out of luck than skill, the Tarnished broke through the defense of the mimic, his blade sinking through the armor into the chest of the creature.

And just like that, it dissolved, melting into a puddle. He shuddered again, looking down at the remains with revulsion. What sick experiments did the inhabitants of this city conduct? There was some dark magic at work, that much he was certain of.

Out of the arena, he stepped onto a bridge that had seen better days. The structure crumbling at some places, opening up to a deep fall. From up here, he was able to see down at the Siofra and the surrounding landscape he had traversed a few days ago. He could even see the spot where he and Blaidd had stood and looked up at the seemingly unreachable Nokron. Up in the distance he saw another building looming over the rest of the cave, surrounded by a red tint. The Tarnished wondered how to reach it, but quickly dampened his rising curiosity. First he would take care of Nokron's secret treasure, before he would throw himself into another archaeological adventure.

Stepping off the bridge, he walked into a little forest. He spotted some of the ancestral followers, patrolling the forest with their weapons at the ready. They were a tough bunch and the Tarnished really didn't feel the need to provoke a fight if it could be avoided... He also really didn't want to have another giant magic arrow shot at him out of nowhere. So, ducked and concealed by the thicket, he proceeded with utmost caution.

Before long he found a site of Grace befoatre a ledge, that would lead him back into Nokron. After taking a short break, listening to the haunting singing of one of the ancestral followers nearby, he continued on his way. He climbed over rooftops, traversed some tight alleys and jumped from one building to the next.

Despite a few encounters with shape-shifting slimes, his way through the city was uneventful. At least those variants didn't turn into exact copies of himself, so he felt less uneasy about putting them down. Seeing them melt to a puddle still made him feel icky, though.

As he stepped out from a small alley between two buildings, he froze and stared at what lied ahead. A giant skeleton sat on a throne made of stone, it even wore clothes that seemed ceremonial. Leading up to the skeleton was a street littered with slimes. From up where he stood he couldn't just jump down, he had to get down by other means or he would immediately be surrounded.

A crumbling arch spanned over the street, so he was able to enter the building across from him. From the inside it looked like a cathedral, the ceiling high and the tall windows depicted artful scenes of violence. It was impressive, what craftsmanship lied behind those pieces of glass. The Tarnished wondered, what had caused the downfall of this civilization.

In a little nook he spotted a door, that was closed by a stonesword key mechanism. He rummaged through his pouch and found one of the keys. As always, the thing broke as soon as he put it into the keyhole. Behind the door lied a little room, full of sarcophagi that were neatly arranged to both sides. At the north side of the room was another sarcophagus, but this one was even more ornate than the rest. Whatever was inside it clearly held great significance.

In front of it was a single person, almost looking like they were guarding it. It was one of the veiled people he had encountered before his fight against the mimic. The person hadn't noticed the Tarished yet, so he was able to sneak up on them and kill them swiftly by impaling them with his sword from behind.

Disregarding the corpse of his enemy, he looked what they had been guarding. It was a small gray box, similar to the one he had received from Ranni when she'd given him the Spirit Calling Bell. Instead of three wolves, there was the rough outline of one of those slimes engraved in the side of the box. Disappointed he put it in his pouch. He had hoped for something good, not a useless spirit ash.

Outside of the small room, he sighed and rolled his shoulders. He started to feel tired, he should take a break soon. The Tarnished looked for his way forward, but the only way forward was a small jump down to the lower level of the cathedral. He spotted two of the cloaked people and a giant ball, that looked strangely displaced.

With his sword in hands, he jumped down. Immediately the two cloaked enemies turned towards him, their weapons drawn. The Tarnished readied himself for a high intensity fight, when the giant ball suddenly started moving directly towards him. With a series of curses he jumped to the side, barely avoiding a death by being crushed.

There was no room for catching breath, though, as one of the cloaked people jumped at him, slashing a deep wound into his arm. The Tarnished hissed and kicked for the knee of his opponent, sending them to the ground. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the ball rolling towards him again and he quickly rolled to the side. The ball missed him, but waltzed over the cloaked person without mercy. The cracking sound of bones breaking and the squelching of intestines spilling out was nauseating.

However brutal the death of his enemy was, it gave the Tarnished an idea and with a cruel smile he turned towards the other cloaked person. As if they were able to read his mind, they froze, before slowly retreating. He didn't thought about letting them go, though. While fully aware of the giant ball ever faster rolling behind him, he sprinted towards his opponent, which had started running as well.

The Tarnished was just a tad bit faster and he managed to grab the person and push them back towards the ball. They suffered the same fate as their friend, ending up as an unidentifiable stain of gore and armor on the stone floor. Before he could end up the same, the Tarnished jumped out of the cathedral and the ball, unable to fit through the entrance, just crashed against stone.

As to not risk it breaking through the wall, he moved away from the cathedral. He spotted a site of Grace and relief flooded him. Finally a short break. When he sat down, his wounds started healing and he felt the vigor returning to his body. His gaze wary, he looked down the street ahead. All he could see were a couple of slimes, nothing too worrying.

After a few more moments of readying himself, he got up and started walking down the street. He felt a slight vibration from the Spirit Calling Bell, indicating him he could summon spirits here. For a moment he hesitated, before he shrugged his shoulders and held the gray boy with the slime ashes up. The quiet jingle of the bell, as he summoned the spirit, felt loud in this silent environment.

As expected, a slime formed on the ground. What the Tarnished didn't expect, was the toll the summon took on him. He flinched as a stinging pain went through his body. The summoned slime collapsed in on itself and rose as a perfect copy of himself. He stared at it and it stared back with a blank expression.

“Can you talk?”, he asked curiously.

No answer, just a blank stare.

“Are you... are you the same thing I fought earlier, or are you just of the same species?”

No answer, just lazy blinking.

“Do you even understand me?” He was getting frustrated.

No answer, just another expressionless look.

“Well fuck you too then.”

No answer, just a single raised middle finger.

And with that the mimic started walking towards the first enemy, ignoring its summoner that stood there with a slack jawed expression. “So you do understand me...” The Tarnished huffed indignant and stomped after his copy. “The disrespect...”

Despite the mimic obviously having a problem with attitude, he had to admit that it was rather useful. It possessed the same moves as the Tarnished, even using a similar fighting style to his. Even when some of the slimes that guarded the road turned out to be shape-shifting, they managed to easily dispose of them.

At the end of the road they faced a slime that shifted into the form of a troll, roaring at the duo. The Tarnished attacked the heels of it, cutting deep into the flesh and forcing his opponent down on one knee. The mimic buried his blade into the forehead of the troll with a jump attack, killing it immediately.

When the slime dissolved into a big puddle, the Tarnished grinned at his copy and raised a hand for it to high-five. “Good job.” The mimic just blankly stared at him again, before disappearing into the spirit realm. With a frown the Tarnished lowered his hand and continued on his way, climbing up the stairs towards the giant skeleton in the throne. “He could've at least said goodbye...”

Now almost in front of the monument, he felt dwarfed. A little uneasy at the possibility, he wondered if the skeleton sitting on that throne has been an actual being, or if it was merely a sculpture. Nokron held so many secrets and mysteries, it irked the adventurer inside of him that he wasn't able to find any more answers.

With swift steps he climbed the stairs, spotting a portal besides the entrance to the chamber underneath the throne. That was his way out. On the lookout for traps, he entered the space underneath the stone throne. There were quite a few valuable looking things clattered around the room. Vases, candelabras and golden plates. They were uninteresting for the Tarnished, who was only interested in the stone sarcophagus in the middle of the room. It looked almost ridiculously plain compared to the other items in the room. No ornaments, just plain gray stone. Considering that the former inhabitants of Nokron were fond of frills of any kind when it came to the rest of their city, it was almost suspicious that this coffin was so plain.

He opened the stone sarcophagus, pushing the heavy lid off. Inside it lay a single dried Grave Glovewort, though this one was different from all the ones he had found before. It's ghostly white glowing blossoms were looking bigger and there were more of them on this single stem than on others of its kind. Gingerly he picked the flower up, putting it in his pouch.

There was one other thing in the sarcophagus and when he picked it up, he shuddered slightly. The sturdy blade, barely more than a dagger, emitted a cold that seeped through his gloves and bit into his skin. It was made of a black material, which, upon closer inspection, almost looked like blackened bones. He saw bloodstains on the blade, confirming that this blade had been used before.

Was this what Ranni was after? Nokron's great treasure? He was a little disappointed, however, he wasn't so stupid as to judge his find without knowing its true value. If his mistress was so eager to get her hands on the blade, then surely it had a great significance. Though the image of Ranni holding this crude weapon just didn't feel right to him. Her fighting with it felt even more absurd. Surely, she would send Blaidd or the Tarnished to do whatever dirty-work demanded this blade.

Carefully he bound the blade to his belt, before he left the little room to use the portal. There was nothing more for him to do here and honestly he had enough of the oppressive atmosphere that was omnipresent all around this city.

He stepped from the cold cave back onto the sunny meadows of Limgrave. With a little sound he stretched and took in a deep breath, enjoying the refreshing smells lingering in the air. What a relieve.

The Tarnished walked to his campsite, to see if Blaidd maybe finally caught up. He didn't find the half-wolf there, but a little note pinned on a branch that had been rammed into the earth. With a frown he picked up the note and read. The handwriting was atrocious and the Tarnished shook his head. Considering he grew up in a royal household, one might really think Blaidd would be more proficient in his use of ink and quill.

I see I missed you... Waiting really isn't your strength, eh? I hope you've been successful in unveiling Nokron's treasure. Don't worry about me, I've been called off for another important task. Stay save, mate.

Regards, Blaidd

“Well, that solved the question where he is”, he mumbled, before he called for Torrent. The steed materialized from the spirit realm and the Tarnished looked at him with crossed arms. “You know, leaving me down there was pretty rude.” A huff was his answer and he rolled his eyes. “Oh sure, easy of you to say. Unlike you I can't jump on thin air.” An annoyed stomp, followed by a neigh. “Yes, I found something that looks like it could be that mysterious treasure.” The Tarnished pointed to the blade on his hip.

Torrent laid his ears back and shook his head, obviously uneasy. “You think this thing is bad news?” Another neigh, this time more fearful than agitated. He patted the neck of his steed, trying to reassure him. “Don't worry. We give that thing to Lady Ranni and then we'll be on our merry way. I feel we helped her out more than enough.” The look Torrent gave him was doubtful, like he was pretty sure his two legged companion wouldn't turn his back on the cold witch.

The Tarnished climbed into the saddle, biting back any comments. They took the main road back to Liurnia, riding past any enemy that searched for a fight. After fighting basically himself down in Nokron, he had a feeling for just how strong he was... and for now it surely sufficed.

Past Stormveil Castle, they rode by the crumbling church in which Thops still sat, his head hanging low. The Tarnished had briefly talked to him after first entering Liurnia. The luckless sorcerer was locked out of Raya Lucaria and now was in desperate search for a glintstone key. Apparently this key was able to let its bearer traverse the protective barrier that laid around the academy.

“Still no luck?”, he asked while he jumped out of Torrent's saddle.

“Ah... Hello again. No, I'm afraid my search was fruitless...” Thops let his shoulders droop. “At this rate, I won't ever set foot in the halls of the academy again.”

“Don't lose hope just yet”, he tried to cheer up the sorcerer, who just smiled joyless. Feeling bad for the man, the Tarnished turned around to Torrent and rummaged through the saddlebag, searching for a small rune he could donate to the poor sap. While he did so, he grabbed the key he had found back in the dragon's lair. He had completely forgotten about it and he still had no idea what this key was for.

“I-Is that a glintstone key?” Thops had jumped up, his eyes shining excited as he hurried towards the Tarnished.

“Erm... Is it?”

He took a closer look. “Oh most definitely! By the stars... It really is a key to Raya Lucaria!” When the sorcerer wanted to take it from his hands, the Tarnished quickly pulled it away. Sure, the man wanted to get back to his place of learning... However, first he wanted to investigate that place himself. After all, he still had to acquire the Great Rune, held by Queen Rennala.

Thops glared at him for a second, but quickly disregarded the idea of fighting him for the key. Instead he fell back on the wooden crate he had been sitting before. “I'm sorry, excitement got the better of me”, he sighed. “Just... If you should find an extra key inside of the academy... Would you keep me in mind?”

The Tarnished got back into Torrent's saddle and nodded. “I'll keep an eye open.” He left the church, riding towards the building towering over the land. Ranni had to wait a little longer. First he would visit her mother.

Chapter Text

Raya Lucaria had a surreal beauty to it. Madness hung heavily in the air, but also the magic the academy harbored. It was like thousands of soft fingers, caressing over his skin and touching his soul. He knew he was capable of using magic, even if it were just the most simple glintstone incantations. But he preferred the front line, being in the midst of the action and not just standing behind and casting spells. The Tarnished wanted to feel his sword clash against his opponent's, smell the blood and sweat and bathe in the adrenaline.

Sorcerers were quite a fragile bunch, at least the ones he encountered throughout his way. They all wore those hideous stone masks that enhanced their magical powers... they didn't really protect them against his sword though. Their spells hurt when they hit, but most of the time the Tarnished managed to evade the attacks.

Another thing he realized quickly, was that the academy was one giant labyrinth. On his way he took a wrong turn a few times, finding himself in some predicament. Most of the times he emerged victorious... though a couple of times he was sent back to Grace. He took his time exploring the dusty hallways of the academy, discovering hidden rooms full of books and other treasures. One of the rooms he discovered looked like an office or private study, the centerpiece being a big desk filled with scrolls, books and empty pieces of paper. Behind the desk was the portrait of a single woman with soft features, standing tall with one hand stretched out.

That must be Rennala of the Full Moon. Queen of Caria and headmaster of the academy of Raya Lukaria. The painter did an amazing job of conveying such dignity and pride in a still image. The Tarnished wondered, if it was just an exaggeration of reality, or if the queen was this imposing in the flesh as well. Only one way to find out. With that he decided his time for exploration was over and he had to get back to the task at hand.

His way was littered with more enemies, each one of them wearing one of those hideous stone crowns. He had to admit that their glintstone projectiles became rather annoying when being bombarded by them from multiple directions. Though he guessed that his sword cutting their bodies open was far more irritating for them.

After fighting through an especially sorcerer infested hallway, he walked into a big parlor. Wooden podiums and benches lines the sides of the room and a model of the moon was suspended from the ceiling. Portraits of powerful scholars of the academy were on display, most of them old bearded men. Besides Rennala, there was only one other woman. The Tarnished stepped forward to read the names underneath the portraits, when he stepped on something that gave way under his weight with a loud crack.

Frowning he looked down and his frown only deepened when he saw he stepped on a bone. Now did he notice the piles of bones scattered all across the parlor. The Tarnished immediately drew his sword when he heard a guttural growling from above.

In a flash of red a big wolf jumped from the upper level of the room, baring his teeth and fixating him with golden eyes. There was undeniable intelligence in them.

“Bad dog?”, the Tarnished tried, but the wolf howled loudly, summoning three glintstone daggers. To evade the attack, the Tarnished threw himself to the side. Barely back on his feet, he had to evade yet another attack. The wolf jumped at him, a blade made of buzzing red energy between his fangs. As the blade disappeared, the beast tried biting him but he managed to stay safe of the sharp fangs.

To catch some breath, he punched the wolf directly on the snout, making it yelp and scurry back. With a deep breath the Tarnished straightened his shoulders, holding on to his blade with both hands and not once looking away from the wolf, which slowly circled him. They both were watching their opponent, waiting for an opening.

Then the Tarnished saw a spark in the wolf's eyes and jolted forward. While the canine summoned a glintstone blade, he let his sword shot forward. The blade burrowed itself deep into the neck of the red wolf and when he pulled it out it send blood splattering to the floor. His opponent collapsed to the ground, motionless.

Sheathing his sword, he patted the head of the dead wolf. “Good boy.” He sat down at the site of Grace that had appeared after the fight and stretched out his feet. While turning the Runes he had obtained on his way through the academy into strength, he looked around again. When he got up he inspected the portraits hanging on the wall. Lusat. Azur. Rennala... and Sellen.

Amused the Tarnished inspected the portrait and huffed. So that's how Sellen looked underneath that mask. Black hair, stern and well defined features and deep blue eyes. Prettier than he had expected. He would definitely annoy her with that, next time they'd meet.

Stepping out of the parlor, he entered a large yard. When looking for his way forward, he saw a large staircase to the right. That was probably his way forward. The only problem was, that part of it had broken off and the jump was impossible to make. He spotted a few arches that connected the staircase with the platform of the yard, probably to stabilize the construct. It was a small walkway, made even more dangerous by the rain, but it was his only way to proceed.

As he started walking towards the bridge, a rusty ax blade hit the ground right beside him. He cursed and turned around to find some form of mechanical creature heading towards him. It was made of brass, its Torso depicting a maiden cradling an infant. The lower part was cylindrical and when he looked more closely, he saw that this part could open. A foreboding red mist seeped through the gaps in the construct.

The Tarnished thought about how to best fight this thing... How do you fight metal? By now the abductor maiden was dangerously close and he decided, that he wouldn't fight her right now. With the lack of information on this enemy, it would be a safe death sentence. And he really didn't feel like being cleaved into two by those ax blades.

While hastily scurrying over the small arch to get away from the creepy mechanical beast, he felt his heart drop when he looked down and saw a pretty deep precipice underneath him. If he'd slip it would be his death. Thankfully he managed to reach the staircase without making acquaintance with gravity.

His legs were still slightly shaking, when he started climbing the stairs. The Tarnished really hoped he wouldn't have to do something like that ever again. A grumbling sound, like approaching thunder, made him focus on his way ahead again. A ginormous ball, similar to the ones he had encountered in Nokron, was rolling down the stairs directly towards him. He was already past the arch he crossed to get here and he wouldn't make it in time to run back. With no real way to evade the thing, he did the only thing that came to his mind.

He jumped over the railing of the staircase, holding on for dear life to not slip and fall. Across the chasm the abductor maiden threw one of her axes at him, trying to hit him and send him falling. The chains holding the weapon to its body were too short though. “Oh fuck you...”, the Tarnished grunted, pulling himself up when the ball had passed and fallen down the end of the staircase.

He was almost at the top of the staircase, when he heard the loud rumbling again. Mere seconds later he was squashed by one of those spheres, dropping from above right onto him. His armor did little to protect him and his bones shattered like they were nothing but brittle twigs. In his last moment of conscience he felt how his skull gave in under the pressure, cracking and bursting open.

Darkness.

With a feeling of unease he awoke at the side of Grace where he had fought the red wolf. His chest still felt a little compressed and there was a slight headache. The Tarnished got to his feet, stretching and trying to shake off the feeling of nausea.

Repeating his way across the yard and to the stairs, he was careful to not alert the abductor maiden this time. He was also a lot faster at climbing up the stairs, after evading the first ball by rolling, this time aware that there would be more of them if he dawdled. Finally he stepped through the doorway at the top of the staircase, stepping into a small hallway.

The way straight ahead led into a small yard and he spotted a single person standing before an elevator, apparently guarding it. The person was clad in a beautifully ornate armor. It was a mixture of highly polished silver metal and midnight-blue cloth. The chestpiece was decorated with amber and glintstones, making the armament look almost pompous. He had a small shield in one hand and a simple straightsword fastened to his hip.

“Turn back at once, Tarnished.” The knight drew his sword as soon as the Tarnished stepped into the yard. “The queen hath suffered enough. Thou shallt not inflict more quarrels upon her.”

“And who are you?” The Tarnished eyed his opponent. It was rare for his enemies to talk, most of them had lost their sanity and weren't even capable of talking anymore. This knight, however, seemed to still be having his wits.

“My name is Moongrum. I am one of the last remaining knights of house Caria.” He bowed formally, showing a level of respect that surprised the Tarnished. Usually he didn't receive much courtesy. “What might be thy name?”

He returned the bow. “Sadly, I have no name.”

“It matters not, nameless Tarnished. Leave these halls, or my duty commandeth me to strike thee down.” He still didn't attack, obviously he wasn't keen on a confrontation. The Tarnished furrowed his brows, torn on what to do next. This knight was defending his queen, fulfilling his duty even now with the Carian house in shambles.

Wait, wasn't Ranni also a member of that house? Maybe he could use that for his advantage. After all, even if this was a little detour from the task she gave him, he was still in her service. He cleared his throat. “I am in the service of Lady Ranni. Surely we can...”

“Thou art speaking the name of the Lunar Princess in vain?! Art thou so depraved as to use the names of the dead for thy selfish goals?! Thy insolence shall cost thee dearly!” Moongrum basically shouted, absolutely enraged. Apparently the Tarnished had missed some essential information regarding Ranni and using her name with loyal subordinates of house Caria wasn't the best idea. He remembered Blaidd's words “she had to abandon her body”. Once more he wondered what had happened.

Regardless of what it was he had misunderstood, the time for talking was over, the knight stormed at him with the clear intent of killing him. Their swords clashed with such force it send sparks flying. The Tarnished kicked at the knee of the knight, but he evaded the attack.

Gaining some distance, his next slash was aimed at the chest of his opponent. At the last second Moongrum raised his shield and in a flash of blue light he hit the blade to the side. Stunned and out of balance the Tarnished was open for a counter attack and the knight quickly closed up to him, to ram his sword into his chest. However, his target regained his composure faster than he had anticipated, so when he let his blade shoot forward, he was met by a parry himself.

Moongrum grunted as his arm was violently hit aside and when the sword of the Tarnished pierced through his chestplate, he gurgled blood. He was kicked off the blade onto the ground, hitting it hard. There he lied, barely able to breathe and no strength in his legs to get back up again, no matter how hard he tried. “I... I'm not done”, he gasped, anger and desperation in his voice. “Thou wilt not lay thy filthy hands on the queen.” A coughing fit made blood splatter through the slits of his helmet.

The Tarnished felt sorry for him, but also a deep sense of respect. With a frown he knelt down besides his opponent and removed his helmet. The man was younger than he had expected, though in a land with the process of aging massively slowed, his actual age was hard to tell. He had dark blonde hair which reached his shoulders and a neatly kept beard.

With piercing blue eyes he looked up at the Tarnished, hatred burning in them. “Art thou man enough to end it thyself, or wilt thou leave me to bleed out?”

Not immediately answering, he pulled out his flask of Crimson Tears and before Moongrum could resist, he more or less forced him to take a sip. The knight coughed, though this time not from the blood in his lungs, but the rancid taste of the concoction. “There, that should bring you back up.”

“Why...”

The Tarnished rose to full height again. “Despite what you might believe, I am not planning on killing Rennala. I want her Rune, yes. But I'm no friend of unnecessary bloodshed.” He chuckled quietly. “Also I think my Lady wouldn't be too thrilled about me killing her mother.”

“Art thou playing a cruel game, or is... might the princess yet live?” There was hope in his voice and slowly he got up to his feet, the healing potion almost completely healing him. “But why... why would she not come here then? The queen, her own mother, lieth in shambles and she... oh Princess Ranni, didst thou forsake thy poor mother?”

“I don't know. Honestly, her goals are still a mystery to me”, the Tarnished sighed and then turned towards the elevator. Moongrum yet again raised his sword. “Tarnished, despite thee showing gallantry, my duty still comandeth me to stop thee from proceeding.”

“I though as much.” With a quick motion he swirled around, hitting the knight with his own helmet to the ground. With the loud clatter of metal he fell down, unconscious. “You rest a little, knight. I promise I won't kill your dear queen.” He let the helmet drop besides the unconscious man.

With that he continued, taking the elevator up. As he stepped off the platform, he stood in front a giant door. Only with quite some effort he managed to open it. The library that lay behind the door was only dimly lit, making him tread into an eerie twilight between the selves. The room smelled of old books, dust and cold stone. Each of his steps was set with caution.

His eyes searched the room for any possible threat, but surprisingly there was nothing here. The Tarnished had expected to at least find the Carian queen. He frowned and pouted. So that was a waste of time.

Movement at his feet made him flinch. A young scholar was at his feet, clad in the red and blue robes of the academy, playfully biting for his ankle. their eyes were of a muddied golden color, the white of it slightly yellow. They were pale, to the point the skin appeared sickly. The smile they gave him was innocent and honest. The Tarnished took a step to the side. “What the...”

Suddenly he was surrounded by clattering and mindless giggling. All around him candles lighted up and their light brought more young scholars to view. They all looked almost similar to each other. Their giggling abruptly stopped and they simultaneously looked up to the middle of the room. There, a woman floated above the ground.

She also wore one of the academy's signature robes, though hers looked far more ornate. He spotted the crest of house Caria on them. On her head sat a large hat, reminiscent of a crescent moon and decorated with precious gemstones. The eyes of the woman, a bright and icy blue, seemed clouded, as if she was not entirely there and lost in her own thoughts. She cradled an egg made out of what appeared to be amber in her arms, tenderly caressing it. The egg pulsated and glimmered with magic and as he took a closer look, he saw a rune inside of it. So that was Rennala's Great Rune. Maybe he could avoid fighting her...

“Queen Rennala, I...”

Then she spoke, her voice soft: “Hush, little culver. I'll soon birth thee anew, a sweeting fresh and pure...” Her eyes met his and the Tarnished frowned.

This woman... she was broken. Whatever greatness the Carian Queen once held was long gone. The person floating in the air and benevolently smiling down at him was a husk of a person. He wondered what had caused her to end up like this.

He had no time to keep on thinking about it, as he was bombarded with books and balls of fire. An especially heavy tome hit him right at the back of his head and he saw stars for a second. The creepy juvenile creatures crawling on the ground had started attacking him.

“Stop this! I'm sure we can solve this without violence.” His pleading fell on deaf ears and he only barely escaped a fireball that would've killed him for sure. While the scholars attacked him, the queen just stayed in the air, a protecting barrier around her. It was as if she didn't even notice the fight underneath her.

The scholars giggled innocently, like children having fun and enjoying a game. Adding to those bone chilling sounds, some of them started singing and the Tarnished couldn't help but shudder. It seemed they were always one note off, when they repeatedly sang:

“Sleep tight

Bound tight

By mother's amber

Sleep tight

Find life

In mother's umbra”

Unsure what to do, he backed off to at least be out of clear line for some of the children. He couldn't reach Rennala like that and he didn't want to hurt any of these scholars. They were just protecting the queen, apparently seeing her as their mother. He wouldn't kill them just for that.

He looked around. One of the scholars was crawling towards him, singing and clinging to the candelabra they held. When the Tarnished took another step back, he hit a bookshelf with his back. A heavy book fell down from high above, landing on the skull of the singing scholar. With a loud crack the bone gave in and blood splattered to the ground.

Mortified he looked at his involuntary murder victim, which twitched a few more times before remaining still. A shattering sound made him turn towards the middle of the room. The protective barrier around Rennala had visible cracks in it. With horror he realized what he had to do to get to the queen.

“Can't you just give me the rune...” With a deep sigh he drew his sword. He felt nauseous when he walked towards the next singing scholar. The creature looked up at him with dim golden eyes that seemed to lack a soul. With a grimace he brought his blade down, beheading the child. More cracks started to show in Rennala's barrier.

Books kept on hitting him as he stomped towards the next scholar. They hurt, but he felt he deserved the pain. He felt like a monster, slaughtering those creatures to get to his goal. With bitterness he thought that after all, he was a Tarnished still. Murdering for his own gain was in his nature.

A third scholar was killed as he sank his blade through the back of their neck. Gurgling and twitching it died. As the body went limp, a shattering sound was audible, followed by the sound of something hitting the ground rather abruptly.

The Tarnished returned to the middle of the room, where Queen Rannala lied on the floor. She had lost her crown and her hairdo had become undone. Strands of long black hair framed her pale face as she desperately crawled towards the ember egg that had slipped her hands. She was bleeding from a wound on her brow, apparently she had hit her head when she fell.

A look of pure distress was on her face. “Ahh, my beloved... Have no fear, I will hold thee. Patience...”

With a frown he stepped towards her, putting his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. He didn't worry about getting the rune right away. This fight, if it even could be called that, was over. The remaining scholars kept their distance, fearfully looking at the scary man that had hurt their beloved mother.

“Stop. It's over. Please.” The Tarnished didn't want to hurt her further. This woman was broken and didn't even put up a fight, too lost in grieve and sorrow.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Thou dost not understand... My beloved... She needs me. My little Ranni needs me, to birth her anew. I shall make it right...” She swatted away his hands, her eyes for the first time clear. “It shall be like before.”

“Ranni is alive and well. Just calm down and...”

“No!” Without much force behind it she shoved him away. “I saw her. Saw her body... Oh my little sweeting why wouldst thou leave me like this?” The queen sobbed and burrowed her hands in her hair, pulling it in utter distraught. Helpless the Tarnished was kneeling beside her, unsure what to do.

He jolted up when the light in the room started to fade. With a furrowed brow he turned his gaze away from the sobbing queen to the amber egg. It had turned black, emitting the thick black fog that spiraled towards the ceiling, blocking out the light. Was this a trap? Suddenly an all too familiar voice rang out throughout the library: “Upon my name as Ranni the Witch. Mother's rich slumber shall not be disturbed by thee.”

For a moment he was surrounded by complete darkness, before a column of light built in front of him. A single person stepped out of that light, materializing before him. Queen Rennala of the Full Moon took a few elegant steps. When he looked beside him, the Rannala he had fought before was nowhere to be seen.

“Foul trespasser. Send word far and wide. Of the last Queen of Caria, Rennala of the Full Moon.” The black fog underneath their feet turned into the mirroring surface of water. And as the form of Rennala was completely materialized, a nights sky with a bright full moon appeared behind the queen. With an expression that was prideful and regal, she raised the intricate staff she held and pointed it towards the Tarnished. With a voice full of admiration he heard Ranni say: “And the majesty of the night she conjureth.”

The Tarnished was in absolute awe at the picture before him. It was hauntingly beautiful. He didn't know if this was just an illusion or if this was real, but he nonetheless was impressed. Then Rennala began casting a spell. He was just a little too slow and a beam of concentrated magic hit his right arm.

He howled in pain as it peeled his skin off and the flesh underneath scorched. The hit hadn't been fatal, but it hurt. This was magic on a completely different level than anything he had seen before.

Rennala swung her catalyst and a shower of glintstone shards rained down on the Tarnished. A few pieces pierced his armor and he stumbled to the side. He coughed blood and with numb fingers he grabbed his flask of crimson tears. After two deep sips he felt his wounds rapidly close.

With a quick sidestep he escaped a new beam of magic. He had to fight her, or she would kill him without hesitation. With a grim expression he stormed forward, his blade drawn. Before he could reach her though, she fell onto one knee and rammed her catalyst into the ground. She then raised her hands towards the sky and as a white crest appeared underneath her, she said: “Come, oath-sworn dragon.”

A clawed hand hit the Tarnished hard, sending him flying. Getting back on his feet, he barely had enough time to react. With horror he saw the dragon behind the queen, taking a breath to spew fire. He rolled to the side, managing to evade a fiery death by just a few centimeters. “A dragon?! You can summon dragons?!”

The queen didn't answer, instead she sent a swarm of glintstone fragments homing in on him. Most of them missed, but a couple managed to hit him, leaving him bleeding. He had to resort to his Crimson Tears again, emptying the flask.

Pitched against a caster, he was clearly at a disadvantage as long as she managed to keep him at a distance. He somehow needed to get close to her. The dragon posed a massive problem for him too, keeping him from closing in on her. The Tarnished was readying himself for a fight against a dragon and a powerful sorcerer at once, when the dragon disappeared. So it was only a temporary summon.

Not wasting another second, he stormed onward. Rennala tried to keep him at distance with spells again, but he slowly got a feeling for them and managed to evade them. She surprised him, when she sent her catalyst twirling towards him in a fluid motion. It hit him on the temple and for a second he felt himself falling.

Regaining his balance, he continued onward, finally able to hit her. By now he was exhausted, wounded and slightly angry. His first hit was aimed at her leg. He was almost expecting his blade to just seer through the illusion, not leaving a mark. However, when his sword connected it felt all too real. The resistance of flesh and bone, the pain filled cry of his opponent and the metallic smell of fresh blood.

Rennala fell to the ground, howling in agony. Her right leg was barely connected to her body anymore and she was losing copious amounts of blood. The Tarnished frowned... Was this really an illusion?

Even now, slowly bleeding out and in unbearable pain, the queen managed to concentrate and weave her incantations. They were different than before, though. Much weaker, almost instantly fading away and with no chance of harming the Tarnished.

Quickly, as to not make her suffer unnecessarily, he raised his sword again. Seeing her fate sealed, the queen stretched a hand towards the sky as if to grasp for the stars above them. With a voice shaking from the pain, she whispered: “Oh little Ranni, my dear daughter. Weave thy night into being...” His sword pierced though her heart rather easily and with that Rennala of the Full Moon was defeated.

The Tarnished didn't feel a sense of victory while looking down at her, only guilt and a tinge of sadness. Around him, the arena slowly faded away and with it the body of the queen. After a moment he stood back in the library, no traces of the blood he just shed anywhere to be seen. In the center of the room sat Rennala, cradling the amber egg and seemingly unfazed by anything that had transpired. Her crown sat back on her head, though there was still some remains of dried blood on her brow. He couldn't see any of the scholars. Did they hide?

She didn't raise her gaze when he slowly approached her, only mumbling: “Where did ye flee, my sweetings? Come out, from whence ye hide. There are books and light aplenty. Dither not; come out say I!” Her hand caressed over the amber egg and a pure smile flitted across her lips. “Or will ye be gravestones? To be better born anew?”

Hesitantly he raised a hand, to take the amber egg with the Great Rune from her. She fixated him with ice blue eyes, a semblance of recognition in them. “Ah... Thou.” There was some hostility in that last word. “Is it thy wish to be born anew? To become a sweeting, reborn of my beloved egg?”

When he saw her like that, holding on to that egg and absentminded gaze, he wondered what had happened. How did the powerful sorceress, capable of summoning dragons and powerful glintstone incantations he just fought... How did she become a scattered and broken woman? The Tarnished would ask Ranni about it. If someone knew, then the one who weaved the powerful illusion.

With a sigh he shook his head and retreated his hand. He couldn't bring himself to take the Rune from her. It just wasn't right. And he didn't need every single Great Rune anyways, so it should be okay to pass on this one... Right?

Stepping back from her, he looked around the library once more, in hopes to maybe find something else that might help him on his way. A chest amidst the stacks of books roused his interest. At least something to take out of this depressing situation! When he tried opening it, he noticed the lock on it with the Carian crest on it. He pouted and huffed dissatisfied. This day was getting worse by the second.

“Thou!” A shout from the entrance to the library made him turn around. Moongrum was storming towards him, his sword in hand and helmet back on his head. “Dirty... Filthy... Despicable scum!”

In an offer of peace, the Tarnished raised his hands. “I didn't hurt her... well much. I probably hurt her a little. But I didn't kill her.” He pointed towards the queen, who was oblivious to the situation and instead just dreamily stared at her amber egg. “See? She's fine. I didn't even take her Rune.”

Moongrum muttered something under his breath when he saw the blood, but after a moment he put his sword back into its sheath. He scoffed. “A Tarnished with honor... Things more ridiculous rarely existed.”

The Tarnished shrugged his shoulders, then proceeded to leave. Moongrum stood there silent, before he hesitantly said: “Thy conduct is worthy of a knight, Tarnished. Lunar Princess Ranni can count herself lucky to have thee in her service.” He stretched out a hand and with a grin the Tarnished shook it in a warrior's handshake. With melancholy in his voice, the Carian knight looked at his queen. “I will remain here, guarding the queen. Send Lady Ranni my regards and ensure her, that her mother remaineth in safety as long as I draw breath.”

He admired the valor of the knight. Standing before the crumbling remains of a once great house, he wouldn't abandon his duty. And as a man in the service of his own mistress, so wouldn't the Tarnished. With one final goodbye he started leaving the library. Behind him, he heard Rennala calmly say: “Be not alarmed, nor afeared. I would birth thee as a sweeting, fair and fine.” Words of a woman lost to grieve and madness.

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His way back to the manor was rather uneventful. The few encounters he had were nothing worthwhile and showed him just how much he had grown his skills on this journey. When he rode past the spot where Iji had set up his forge, he was surprised to find it abandoned. Where was the blacksmith? The Tarnished hoped he was doing okay.

When he reached Ranni's rise he climbed up the stairs to Ranni's chamber with a certain vigor. He was excited. Outright exhilarated. He had acquired the treasure of Nokron, fulfilled his task and even was able to acquire a Great Rune in the process... He was also happy to see the doll-witch again. Though the last part made him frown about himself.

A little out of breath he reached the top of the rise and entered the room his mistress was residing in. The thought of her still sleeping didn't even cross his mind. It had been over a week since he last had been here and received his mission, by now Ranni surely was awake.

“Lady Ranni, I....” He stopped as soon as he saw, that she was slightly slouched in her chair and motionless. Her eyes closed peacefully and her arms hanging limp from her sides, she almost looked like a doll someone propped up on the chair and simply forgot about. The fact she didn't breathe unsettled him for a moment, before he reminded himself that she actually was a doll and hence didn't need to breathe.

The Tarnished was in the process of leaving, when he noticed that her hat had fallen off her head. For a second he quarreled on whether or not he should do something, before he hesitantly entered back into the room. He picked up the hat, dusting it off and then just stood there. This was inappropriate. What was he thinking?! Well it was too late to turn around now.

“I-I'm just gonna...” Carefully he put the hat back on her head. It looked crooked and like it would fall off again any moment. The Tarnished frowned. Sorcerers and their impractical headgear...

With an annoyed sigh he adjusted the angle of the hat until it looked right. “There you go.” He almost jumped when Ranni made a little sound. Frozen in place he stared at her. The spectral part of her face looked distressed, but her eyes remained closed. She was dreaming.

He felt sorry for her. Whatever she was dreaming about, it didn't seem to be very pleasant. The Tarnished sighed quietly, before he returned to leaving the room. There was nothing for him to do here for now, he had to wait for the witch to return to the waking world.

He had a great idea for what to do in the meantime. With one last look at the sleeping Ranni, he left the room. “Sleep well.”

Chapter Text

The liquid in the little flask glistened in a light blue, looking almost like starlight trapped in glass. With a sigh the Tarnished stood up from the chair he had been sitting on while pondering on what to do next. He was at the Roundtable Hold, catching some rest and letting Hewg work on his weapon. His main reason for being here, though, was to fulfill the request he had acquired from Seluvis.

After his short visit at Ranni's chamber, he had made a beeline to the preceptor. The Tarnished was determined to unveil the schemes of the old man and it was pretty obvious that the sorcerer best reacted to flattery. So, swallowing his pride and disdain for the man, he had announced he wanted to learn under him. Seluvis, pompous bastard he was, of course bound his agreement to teach him to a task.

Make Nepheli Loux drink that potion. No further explanations and of course no answers to his question what that ominous potion would do to the warrior.

The Tarnished knew where to find Nepheli. Cowered in a lonely corner of the Roundtable Hold after an argument with her foster father. Of course he wouldn't make the woman drink the concoction. Instead he was heading towards the library, where Gideon was slouched over his books. Surely the All Knowing would know what the purpose of the blue liquid was.

“Did you finally get to the Altus Plateau?” Gideon looked up from his book and the Tarnished shook his head. “Not yet. I have to settle a few things before I can continue.”

“Getting distracted like a little whelp is rather pathetic. You should try to get moving, after all you are the closest to actually achieving the goal of becoming Elden Lord.” He sighed. “Now what do you want?”

Scoffing, the Tarnished held up the flask. “I have a question and was hoping you might be able to help me.”

The old man took the flask from his hand and despite his face being obscured by his weird helmet, the frown was almost audible in his voice. “Is that potion what I think it is? Bloody Seluvis. I suppose he's up to something again.”

Now the Tarnished was surprised. He had expected the man to know the purpose of the potion, not that he immediately knew who brew it. “You know Seluvis?”

“Yes, much to my dismay. If you want my friendly advice? Keep your distance from that snake.” He handed the potion back to him. “But I'm sure you want to know what that potion does. It makes the person drinking it to a puppet. Without will and obeying each whim of the puppeteer. It's wicked and despicable. But I won't interfere. You go ahead and do what you must. The Roundtable Hold has no code to speak of.”

The indifferent way the other Tarnished talked about that all made him shudder. How could anyone care so little about the fate of others, especially one so cruel? “There is no consequence?”

“I am no wet nurse for you lot. You can chop each others heads off for all I care.” There was a moment of hesitation. “But I ask you this. Are you really going to do the bidding of that twisted dolly botherer? Or would you rather hand that potion to me, and see if we can't get one over on the bastard.”

At that the Tarnished had to laugh a little. He put the flask on the table, though there was some hesitation in his movement. What if Gideon himself was planning to do something malicious with that potion? He couldn't tell for sure.

“Good. I'll dispose of that potion myself. You go and see Seluvis, but don't give anything away. Just tell him that you tricked your mark into drinking the potion as planned.” He scoffed and snarled: “Despite knowing next to bloody nothing, he's so far up his own arse he won't suspect a thing. His inevitable display of arrogance will certainly be a sight to behold.”

The Tarnished nodded. “I'm pretty sure he'd never doubt his own work. Fine. I'll leave the potion with you.”

Gideon hummed pleased. “A question before you leave. Why are you even bothering talking to Seluvis? The old sack rarely leaves his base, which is quite a ways off the path.”

He raised an eyebrow. For someone apparently never leaving the Roundtable Hold, Gideon was rather judgmental. He refrained from speaking his thoughts and instead muttered: “Things just kinda turned out that way...”

There was a moment of silence, then the older Tarnished just shrugged. “Do what you can't leave. Just try not to stray too far from the path to becoming Elden Lord. I'd hate seeing you becoming just as useless as the rest of the morons in here.” He returned to reading the book in front of him. “And now be on your way, I'm busy.”

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The sun was about to set when the Tarnished entered Seluvis' rise. The preceptor awaited him, his hands folded and his chin held aloft. “Ah, there you are. Did you manage to fulfill the simple task I gave you, or was it already too much for you?”

“I gave the girl the potion”, the Tarnished answered, keeping his voice leveled and as indifferent as possible. “Was something supposed to happen? She had no reaction to it.”

“So, you had Nepheli drink the potion? Truly?”

“I mean I obviously didn't drink it myself. Will you now finally teach me the sorceries you keep on bragging about, or did you just waste my time?” He couldn't be all friendly all of a sudden, after being not too subtle with his distaste for the preceptor before. It would be too suspicious.

Seluvis sighed. “Hmm. Then perhaps something was amiss with it. It's concocted from the finest ingredients. But perhaps I should review the recipe”, he said with a begrudging voice. “I may have expected too much of her, to begin with.”

The Tarnished raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly did you expect of her?”

With his usual arrogant demeanor, the preceptor mad a dismissive motion with his hand. “It's of no concern to you. I wouldn't expect the likes of you to understand true art.”

He scoffed. “Like the 'art' in your little basement? You can tell a lot about a person by the things they do in their free time.”

Seluvis froze, before he snarled: “You break into a man's private chambers, rooting about as you please? Your oafishness knows no bounds. Fine and well.” He cleared his throat. “You tricked Nepheli, and had her drink the potion. I believe that makes you my accomplice.”

The Tarnished felt revolted by those words. He'd never want to be associated with that perverted geezer. However... To get to the ground of Seluvis' depravity he had to bite back the insults burning on his tongue. He was just glad he wore a helmet covering his features, otherwise the preceptor probably would've seen the utter disgust on his face as he pressed out: “Well... I never said I'm not intrigued by the outcome of your potion.”

For a moment the sorcerer didn't answer, then he clapped his hands once in joy. “Ah, a kindred spirit?”

“You could say so....” Oh Gods he felt sick. “The possibilities of a puppet are rather tempting.”

“You yearn for a puppet of your own, hmm?” He tilted his head. “Well, normally one of your stature would never be allowed. But perhaps I can make a very special exception. To commemorate our newfound friendship.” He turned to his table and picked up a small gray box, similar to the ones containing spirit ashes. With a smug simile audible in his voice, he said: “The finest craftsmanship you will ever experience.”

The Tarnished took the box from his hands. “I thank you.” The words felt foul on his tongue and he had the urge to brush his teeth after this exchange. No, better yet take a full bath. “What do I have to do if I want more puppets?”

The question elicited a saccharine laugh from the preceptor. “O-ho, quite the keen paramour, aren't we. But I'm afraid each and every one is like a child to me. I can hardly just give them away.” In an exaggerated motion he tipped his index finger against his chin. “Oh dear, what's to be done? Why don't you... fetch me some starlight shards? If you can manage it, I'll gladly prepare a new puppet for you.”

He had to make a move now, or he would end up doing the dirty work for that pervert longer than he could endure. “Well... Surely someone of your expertise has something more... exciting than those standard puppets. I mean they are of magnificent quality, but I'm yearning for something special.”

Seluvis snorted full of delight. “Ah, a man of exquisite taste! My first judgment of you had been so damning, but oh how wrong I was.” The preceptor rubbed his hands together, reminding him of a fly sitting atop a pile of shit. “You're proving to be quite the puppeteer. I've not had an apprentice for... a very long time indeed.”

The Tarnished shuddered, but did his best to hide his reaction. Seluvis leaned forward and whispered: “Perhaps, you'd be interested in a little scheme of mine? It will produce the finest of puppets. Which I aspire to cherish with this very hands.” A small giggle. “A ploy to fool even Lady Ranni... How does that sound?” There it was! Holding back a triumphant first pump, the Tarnished answered: “Do tell.”

“Ahh, I knew I had you pegged. You're just like me.” The preceptor nodded. “Then I'd like you to procure something. A rather unique starlight shard that glistens with amber. With that, my special draught will gleam with nectar-sweetness.” His voice became even more sinister than it already was. “And even a demigod would be slave to its charms...”

It was obvious what his plan was, but nonetheless the Tarnished couldn't hold back the question: “You... you want to turn Lady Ranni into one of your puppets?” Again he was careful not to sound disgusted or accusing and tried to give his voice an interested tone.

Seluvis nodded again. “She shall be the finest addition to my collection.” Absentmindedly he chuckled. “Don't worry, I've seen the look on your face when you talk about her. If you help me, I will make sure you will have a taste of the fruit of our labor. Oh and what a sweet fruit it will be...”

He wanted to punch him so badly. To dent that ugly mask until it became part of his skull. Biting his tongue so hard it bled, he fought down his anger and as the metallic taste of blood coated his mouth, he croaked: “I can't wait.”

------------------------------------

“The Erdtree is close”, Melina said and looked at her Tarnished sitting across her on the site of Grace. He was tending to the little fire he had made and over which a little pot was propped. For some reason he seemed to enjoy cooking. A strange habit of his that he had acquired not too long ago. She remembered him only chowing down smoked meat and handful of Rowa raisins at the beginning of their journey together.

They were on the Altus Plateau, the golden light of the big tree impossible to avoid. A beacon, leading to the Royal Capital. However, the Tarnished still had to set foot into Leyndell. By now she knew him well enough to predict he wouldn't directly go to their destination, but instead spent an almost ridiculous amount of time exploring.

He stirred his stew. “I hope you don't mind me constantly taking detours.” His smile was apologetic. “It must be rather infuriating.”

She huffed softy. “Do not worry about me. As long as you fulfill your end of the accord, I don't mind.”

“What are you going to do, once we reach the Erdtree?”

Melina avoided his gaze and uncertainty laced her voice, when she answered: “I... I don't know for sure. My memories are hazy, they are hard to grasp. All I have is this feeling, that whatever my fate might be will reveal itself to me at the foot of Erdtree.”

He hummed thoughtfully, then pulled a folded piece of paper out of the pouch on his belt. His gaze was concentrated and his brow slightly furrowed. Somehow, it roused Melina's curiosity and she stood up. “What is it, Tarnished?”

“I bought this map from that Albinauric in the manor. It should lead me to that amber Seluvis wants for his disgusting little potion.”

“Are... Tarnished are you working together with the Preceptor?” She didn't take him for such a depraved soul. It was unimportant to her goal, really, yet she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

“Fuck no”, he scoffed. “I'm working with him, so I can prove Ranni what a disgusting weasel he is.”

Relieved her Tarnished wasn't a pervert, she mused: “But why are you going through such lengths? Surely there would be a more easy way to prove the deceit of Seluvis to the demigod.” She didn't know why the man had entered into the service of the witch in the first place. Ranni had cast aside her Great Rune, he would earn nothing from his loyalty to her. Well, there came one reason to mind why he would stick around the demigod, but Melina really hoped he wasn't so naive as to lose his heart to Ranni. That woman was set on her goal and didn't care about casualties along the way. Blind with ambition, she was not only self-destructive, but also willing to pull others down with her. Overall, the demigod was bad news and Melina had hoped her Tarnished would just refuse to serve the doll.

“My reason is simple”, he said with a smug smile. “Pure pettiness. She didn't believe me in the first place and it will give me no small amount of gratification to prove her wrong.” His giggling was impish and childish. Melina looked at him amused. “You should try to avoid earning the ire of a demigod.”

The Tarnished made a dismissive gesture with his right. “I just want to annoy her a little. Now... Do you have a clue where that marked location could be?” He pointed with his gloved finger on the red mark on the map. She leaned over his shoulder to have a better look. “It should be further down this road, a little to the side.” Melina pointed down the big road without looking up from the map. “You should find it easily.”

“Ah, thank you Melina.”

“Pray tell... Why are you so protective of the demigod?”

“Her name is Ranni.” He frowned. “And... what do you mean by that question?”

She made sure to clearly show her skepticism. “What is her fate to you?”

The Tarnished was obviously taken aback by her words. “What do you expect from me? To just turn the other direction? She didn't cause me harm, on the contrary.” He pulled a small flask out of his pouch and started pouring its content into the stew. She watched him... was that salt? And if so... the amount was ridiculous. “I know little about Lady Ranni, but no matter the information I'm lacking, I'm certain she doesn't deserve the fate Seluvis wants for her. No one does.” His brown eyes were full of accusations when he looked at her. “And even if it might only be for a short time, I vowed her service. Abandoning her is out of the question.”

Melina cocked her head, curious. Then she huffed. “I see.”

“What?”

“Oh, it's of no importance.” She sat back down across from him, an innocent smile on her lips when she met his irritated gaze. “Just don't lose yourself, gazing at the moon.” That elicited an even grimmer expression from him, before he rolled his eyes and grumbled something she didn't understand.

There was an almost tense silence between them, before he looked for his stew and proudly said: “Dinner is ready. Come, let us eat something. Then I'll go get that amber shard.”

She was skeptical, remembering the copious amounts of salt. “I don't really need to eat... It would be a waste.”

The Tarnished looked a little puzzled, before he inquired: “But you can eat, right?” When she nodded he filled two bowls with the stew. “Well, then you have no excuse.” He handed her one of the bowls. Melina smiled. He was a kind soul. Though in these lands, that was more of a detriment than a virtue. Usually those of kind heart were snuffed out rather quickly.

The stew looked and smelled delicious and she couldn't deny that it made her feel hungry. They simultaneously ate a spoon and just as simultaneously froze. It tasted horrible, almost all she tasted was salt as soon as the stew touched her tongue. With a look of defeat the Tarnished stood up and took the bowl from her hand. “...Maybe I should get to the amber shard right away.”

Melina laughed.

------------------------------------

“The blessed day is finally upon us.” Seluvis almost danced towards the Tarnished, who watched that display of childish joy with a raised eyebrow. At this point the preceptor made no effort anymore to hide his sinister ambitions. It was ridiculous and revolting at the same time.

After he had brought the amber starlight shard to Seluvis, the sorcerer went right to work, not resurfacing for a few hours. The Tarnished had waited outside the tower, gazing at the stars and catching himself looking at Ranni's rise more than once. He hoped she was dreaming more pleasant things now.

When Seluvis had called him back inside the tower, he had expected something grand and spectacular. After all, the preceptor wanted to incapacitate a demigod. Beings famed for being rather powerful. And in this case, it was even a daughter of Radagon, the champion of the Golden Order and Rennala of the Full Moon. Surely, the measures to turn a being permeated by the power of both the moon and gold had to be severe and grandiose.

The Tarnished had been surprised when Seluvis held up a small flask, filled with a golden shimmering liquid. He gazed up at it and with from excitement trembling voice he muttered: “Goodness gracious, the way it glistens... utterly enchanting. To think, this was once a demigod's very fate... My oh my oh my... The perfection of my draught.”

The Tarnished cleared his throat, being majorly unsettled by the old man's behavior. Seluvis, ripped out of his little trance, lowered his arm with the potion. “Ah my friend. You did marvelous work.” He held the flask out for the Tarnished to take. “Just one last step, and the merriment can finally begin. Give my draught to Ranni and make sure she drinks it.”

When he took the flask, he could feel the warmth seeping through the glass. The Tarnished almost sighed in relieve. Finally he wouldn't have to do the bidding of Seluvis anymore. And he could give Ranni not only the treasure she asked of him to secure, but he could also deliver proof that there was a traitor among them.

“The dead-eyed doll let's down her guard in your presence, rather remarkably. Maybe she took a liking to you.” He chuckled. “Though she might dip her hands in the dirt, and feign that icy persona... she's a frail, gentle girl at heart.” The patronizing way he talked angered the Tarnished. Such an arrogant weasel.

“You... understand, don't you? That once you have Ranni drink my draught, my scheme will come to fruition.” He swayed slightly, almost as if drunk. “And we, well, we'll be in the position to claim the very finest puppet ever crafted. Just imagine... the pure elation...” His breath was rigid and he trembled.

He wanted to chop his head off right then and there. That disgusting pervert was basically drooling at the thought of violating Ranni. With rage brewing in his stomach, he clenched his fist around the flask, careful not to break the thin glass. Interpreting his shaking in a completely wrong way, Seluvis let out a barking laugh. “I see you are barely able to contain your excitement. Don't worry, you will get your reward for your work soon enough.”

That elicited a small smile from the Tarnished. Oh yes, he was sure he would get his reward. But it surely wasn't what the preceptor expected.

Chapter Text

Nightmares. They haunted her for so many years, Ranni had lost count. They were cruel, relentless and left her feeling cold despite her doll body. Dreams about fingers reaching for her, holding her in an iron grip and slowly squeezing the life out of her. Dreams about the darkness of death. Of the all encompassing emptiness that came after life.

Oh how she cursed when she felt she was about to enter the days of slumber. When she still had her body, it had only been the occasional night of restless sleep. Sometimes she had been up for days, escaping the dreams by completely losing herself in her studies, until she sometimes fell asleep on the desk. Her mother often reprimanded her daughter because of the dark rings underneath her eyes. One might think she'd be relieved of the necessity for sleep, seeing she no longer had a body of flesh and blood. But St. Trina wouldn't let her go that easily.

Using magic still demanded mana from her and as even moving a finger now was an act of magic for her, her demand was not exactly small. And despite her having a vast amount of magical energy at her disposal, she had to rest from time to time to recover. That fact was one of the reasons she preferred to remain stationary and move as little as possible. But even then she could only postpone the inevitable for so long.

And so she was yet again tormented by her nightmares. Being pulled down into a maelstrom of fear and helplessness. All she could do was endure it, waiting for her consciousness to resurface and giving her back power over her mind and body.

She was surrounded by darkness so perfect it almost felt like she could touch it. It was hard to breathe, like there was a great weight on sitting on her chest. She was only able to desperately gasp for air. Her heart was racing, desperately hammering against her ribcage. Then, a shine of gold broke through the darkness, blinding her and hurting in her eyes. A big eye had opened up. It was so big it was all she could see. The golden iris was fixated on her form and Ranni felt like an insect under a magnifying glass. And then a voice rang through the silence, raw and thundering: “You. Are. Mine.”

Ranni gasped and opened her eyes, shuddering and for a moment keeping her head low. How long had it been this time? One day? Two weeks? She couldn't tell.

When she looked out of the window, the sun was just starting to rise, coloring the sky a beautiful pink. Slowly she stood up from her chair and stepped outside on the stairs. The cool morning wind played with her hair, though her hat prevented it from becoming a mess.

Just now did she notice how her hat didn't sit right on her head. She must've moved it while sleeping. Her dreams surely had been intense, the hat was in complete disarray.

While she fixed her hat, her gaze wandered to the horizon, taking in the view. How beautiful Liurnia was, doused in the sunlight like this. Birds started to sing, the creatures of the night returning into their burrows. It was a peaceful moment and she felt herself relax a little. The only disturbance was the Erdtree, mixing its golden shine into the warmth of the sun.

Ranni looked at Raya Lucaria towering in the distance and sadness gripped her heart. Thoughts of her dear mother, all alone in the grand library of the academy and clutching that accursed amber egg tight, fought their way into her mind. Her mother, surrounded by those faulty creatures. A fruitless effort to recreate the daughter she had lost all those centuries ago... to recreate her. Ranni.

With a sorrowful sigh Ranni averted her gaze from the distant building. “Oh mother...”

She had visited her mother once after the Night of the Black Knives. The once great Queen Rennala had just looked up at her, with eyes seeing and yet... not seeing. Gone had been the spark she had known her whole life. The woe Ranni had felt in that moment, when her mother hadn't recognized her, was impossible to put into words. She knew that, despite Rennala's body still alive, her mother was gone. All her pleading for her to recognize her daughter were for naught.

She had wanted to cry so badly, but she could no longer. And so all she had been able to was stare at her mother for what felt like an eternity, before leaving. She had left a protective spell, so her mother wouldn't be defenseless when greedy Tarnished would come to take the Great Rune embedded in the amber egg.

The sound of heavy boots on stone took her attention away from those hurtful memories. Ranni returned to her chair and sat atop of the books. She had at first felt idiotic for putting that much importance on her height... However, she had been tall in her original body and she'd never been able to adjust to the difference in height in her doll body. And she hated the fact she had to look up almost every time she wanted to look anyone in the eyes.

While she straightened her skirt to make herself more presentable, the steps reached the outer set of stairs. She wondered who it was. Well, judging by the steps it was either Blaidd or the Tarnished. Sure enough, after another moment the Tarnished poked his head into the chamber and smiled when he saw her.

He was a handsome man of tall stature. As to be expected of a swordsman, he was moving with a certain nimbleness in his steps. His eyes were of a warm brown, that reminded her of a young fawn's fur. Slight wrinkles in the corners of them were proof that he preferred to smile over frowning.

His dark brown hair was kept short and combed back. The well groomed stubble on his face, in combination with his attentive gaze and the scar on his lower jaw, gave him a roguish appearance. For a man of his profession, she was surprised how well he looked out for his appearance. Ranni had seen quite a few Tarnished in her life, a lot of them looking more akin to a destitute vagabond. Though one thing even this Tarnished couldn't avoid: the smell of the grease used to keep his armor from rusting, and the subtle metallic smell of blood. But at least he didn't smell of sweat, which she welcomed very much.

His armor was mainly black leather and dark gray chainmail, designed to give protection without hindering movement. There were a multitude of items strapped to his belt for quick access. An impressive looking bastard sword was strapped on his back, completing the equipment of the Tarnished.

His voice was deep and scratchy. “I see you're back up. Did you sleep well?”

“Tarnished”, she greeted him warmly. “I hope thou art bringing good tidings?”

“It was quite a challenge, I have to admit.” His smile faded. “We had to take a detour and... we had to fight your brother, Radahn.”

Surprised she raised her eyebrows. “Radahn?” Ranni wondered why it had been necessary for the Tarnished to fight her brother. Memories of their time together at Caria Manor flooded her mind. How he would do his best to annoy his little sister during her studies, to the point she would threaten him with freezing his beloved horse if he didn't stop. They had been close. Until the day he became the starscourge and betrayed the very principal of their family.

“We had to set the stars back into motion, so your fate might continue moving again as well”, he said carefully, as if he was dreading he was enraging her. Ranni tilted her head. “Thou hast done what hath been necessary to reach Nokron. Relieving my brother from his accursed fate as well. Be proud of thine achievement, for it hath been no simple feat.”

He shifted from one foot to the other, looking slightly embarrassed. She found that reaction rather amusing, having the tall man acting like a flustered little boy. Did he always react like that when praised for a task well done? She shook off the mischievous thoughts forming in her mind, instead getting back to the point. “So Tarnished, thou art in possession of Nokron's treasure?”

The Tarnished blinked, as if ripped from his thoughts and then hastily nodded. “Ah, yes of course.” He removed a deep black blade from his belt and held it up. With a casual motion he flipped it, holding it by the blade while pointing the hilt for Ranni to take. She almost gasped when she saw him carelessly touching the blade. A single cut could kill him immediately.

“Careful!”, she reprimanded him for his carelessness. He raised an eyebrow and she huffed almost amused. “The blade is materialized death. If thou art longing for thy demise, so be it. But I ask of thee to take care of that matter elsewhere. Disposing of thy corpse would be a bother.”

She saw irritation flicker across his features, but he didn't say anything. Instead he just grumbled and gestured for her to take the knife still in his hand.

Ranni took the blade and stared down at it. After years of searching for Nokron and its treasure... She finally had it. The key to free herself completely from the Two Fingers. Finally she could rid herself from those last chains that kept her bound to the Greater Will.

“There is something else I have to talk to you about. It's regarding Seluvis...”, he said, but she didn't really listen. Her thoughts were too preoccupied with her next actions. The road ahead was long and hard, she had to make sure each of her following steps was the right one. She could not allow herself to make any mistakes now.

While she was enraptured by the blade, the Tarnished sat down on one of the wooden crates in the room. He looked a little annoyed. When she realized how rude she was being, she talked again: “Ah, excuse me. I must thank thee. Finally, all the pieces are in place.” Carefully she let one hand slide over the blade, careful not to cut herself. The end of her long journey was finally in sight.

He tilted his head. “And what comes next? What are you planning to do with that o so deadly cheese knife?”

His blunt and straightforward way of talking to her might've irritated her once, but now she welcomed it. As heir to the Carian throne, she has had her fair share of bootlickers in her life from a very young age on. At first she had loved how many people bent over backwards to do her bidding, but she soon realized that most of them were sycophants trying to climb to the top by using her.

The Tarnished seemed like an honest man to her. At least he didn't show any signs of having an ulterior motive. Of course she wasn't so naive as to believe he was acting altruistic, but at least he wasn't out on bringing harm to her or her friends. He was rather open with showing exactly how he felt, even if it bordered on being a little too personal for her taste. She didn't let herself get lulled into a false sense of security, though. There was still wariness towards him and he more than once had shown her that he himself wasn't completely sure about her either.

Ranni leaned back a little in her chair. “Soon I must begin my journey. Upon the dark path only I may thread.”

“What does that ensue?” He smirked cheekily. “I have a few torches, if you need light on that dark path.”

She chuckled and looked at him with curiosity. “Thou art rather lighthearted today, Tarnished. Any special occasion?” Her question made him shrug his shoulders and scratch the back of his head slightly bashfully. “You're always so vague with your answers... I just thought I poke a little fun at you.”

“Art thou a Tarnished or a jester, I wonder?”, she retorted with a cool voice, though she was actually amused by his antics. However, she had to draw a line. He was in her service after all, she demanded a certain level of seriousness. “Thou shouldst restrain thyself to sword-fighting. It suits thee better.”

There it was again, that flicker of irritation. It was subtle, but Ranni had a keen eye when it came to reading her conversational partner. Her mother had taught her from a young age, that the first step to victory was always to understand how your opponent would react. What agitated them? What appeased them? And with those information, it was so much easier to plan the next steps.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between the two. When he spoke, he sounded serious again. “If you deny me my witty comments, do you at least allow me to talk about the information I gathered on Seluvis?”

Ranni sighed exasperated. She didn't know where the Tarnished's distrust towards the preceptor stemmed from, but it was getting tiring. Sure, the old man wasn't the most likable character, but he never tried to betray her. “This again? Tarnished, I seem to recollect telling thee...”

“I have proof”, he interrupted her and pulled out a tiny flask, filled with an amber colored liquid, out of his pouch. With furrowed brows he gave it to her and she inspected it closer. The liquid was viscous and only moved lazily when she tilted the bottle. She didn't know what the purpose of this potion was, so she just looked at the Tarnished with a questioning look.

Apparently glad to finally have her attention, he explained: “Blaidd and I ran into some trouble reaching Nokron, so he suggested talking to Seluvis. After I asked him, I stumbled upon his little... I don't know how to call it. Dungeon, maybe.” The Tarnished seemed uncomfortable. “He obviously did some... unsavory things with his puppets down there. Those puppets were once people, turned into slaves without will with a potion similar to this one you hold in your hand.”

“What art thou talking about?” She frowned as she looked down at the bottle.

He squirmed. “He... erm... you know... entertained himself with those puppets... in a bed...” With a bright red face he looked away.

Ranni felt revulsion rising. “There is no need to expound further on that. Please.” She shook her head. “I still fail to see, where this amounts to treason. Tis immoral, but he...”

“He wanted to use this potion on you while you were asleep. Making you his newest addition to his perverted collection.” He looked openly disgusted. “After I discovered his twisted little dungeon, I was sure he was plotting something. It took me some time, but I got on his good side. Turns out if you stroke his ego enough he is pretty approachable. I'm just glad I didn't have to stroke his...”

“Tarnished!” She interrupted him before he could continue. It didn't require much fantasy to know what he was about to say and she really didn't want to hear it.

Remembering who he was talking to, the Tarnished smiled apologetic, before continuing: “I ran some errands for him, until he finally let me in on his scheme. He tasked me to get him the ingredients for this potion. After he was done brewing the concoction he tasked me to make you drink it while you were sleeping.” He scoffed. “The old man really thought I am as twisted as he.”

Ranni felt nauseous. She knew Seluvis since she was very young. He had seen her grow up, to know he now had such motives made her shudder. That feeling was quickly replaced by anger. How dared that little weasel?! Betraying her, all the while he played the benevolent teacher and ally.

Could the Tarnished be lying? There was a possibility he tried to sow conflict to make their already small group weak with mistrust. To give the Two Fingers an opportunity to act and attack her... then again, he had given her the blade to kill the vassals of the Greater Will without a second of hesitation.

Had she truly been this blind to the schemes of Seluvis all those years? Too focused on finding a way of killing her Two Fingers, that she overlooked the enemy in her own rows?

She scoffed and tightened her grip around the flask. Hatred burned inside of her and in a fit of rage she let one of her fists come down on the armrest of her chair. The sudden reaction made the Tarnished flinch and he carefully asked: “Are you alright, Lady Ranni?”

She took a deep and controlled breath – despite lacking lungs and the need for oxygen, it was just an old habit she couldn't get rid of – and slowly said: “I am... fine. Enraged, but glad to see the truth.” To gain back the appearance of her cool and calculated demeanor, she laid the upper set of her four hands together at their fingertips. Ranni was still filled with rage on the inside, but she didn't want to appear emotional in front of the Tarnished. She was royalty, a demigod to boot, she couldn't act like some hysterical wench. “Thou hast exceeded mine expectations, Tarnished. Not only didst thou manage to secure the treasure of Nokron, thou also impeded a plot against mineself. I owe thee my deepest gratitude.”

He held his head low and avoided her gaze. Upon looking more closely, she saw how he was blushing. How very endearing. Seeing him react to her praise like that raised her mood and she smiled. This Tarnished was an odd one. Most of his kind were ruthless, not caring about the consequences their actions may have on others. They took everything they needed to get closer to their final goal: becoming Elden Lord. If they had to step over corpses to reach that goal, then they would do it. And they most certainly wouldn't interfere in a situation such as this one.

She had sensed something special about him when she first met him in the ruins of the old church and she was glad to see her hunch confirmed. After all he had achieved those past days, she was certain he would become Elden Lord. How it would interfere with her end-goal, she wasn't able to foresee yet.

“What will you do about Seluvis? Do you need help?” He stood up from the wooden crate he was sitting on.

Ice laced her voice. “Nay. Tis a matter I take into mine own hands. Thou hast already helped me sufficiently in this matter.” She looked at him with a certain wariness.”I require no savior, Tarnished.”

The man nodded and with a small smile he said: “I'm not offering my help because I think you can't handle it. I'm offering my help as a friend, not as a savior.” His smile became somewhat sad. “I feel we all can use a friend in these times. Don't you agree? You helped me when only few even bothered speaking to me. I am sure you did it with some final goal in mind, but that doesn't matter to me. You helped me and I will not forget that.”

Ranni was surprised by his heartfelt words and she couldn't deny that it tugged on her heartstrings. Why was he this open with her? They barely knew each other, shouldn't he be more reluctant? Shouldn't she be more reluctant accepting his kind words? She had given him the Spirit Calling Bell out of pure curiosity, to see how far he might get. Hearing him this grateful almost made her feel bad for her careless thoughts.

“I appreciate thy offer, but I still have to decline... my friend.” She added that last part with a genuine smile. “Despite this vessel might seeming fragile, I am not shy of getting mine own hands dirty.” With a dismissive hand gesture she said: “And now let us ponder on this no more. My decision is made.”

The Tarnished smiled reluctantly and bowed his head. “Very well then.”

Again there was silence between them, though this time it wasn't unpleasant. He drew breath as if to say something, but then stopped. The Tarnished hesitated, almost like he was waiting for her to start talking, but when she didn't he said in a somber tone: “I was at the Academy. And I met your mother.”

It was as if time stood still for a moment and she stared at him. In her best effort to sound indifferent, she said: “So thou hast acquired another Great Rune. Impressive.”

He again lowered his gaze. “Well, about that...”

“Thou needst not to ask for forgiveness. The queen hath been in this state for too long already. It was mercy.” She felt cold. So very cold. The sadness that held her was so heavy it demanded everything of her to not just buckle in on the weight.

“I didn't kill her!”, the Tarnished quickly corrected her. Ranni blinked in surprise and he smiled contritefully. “I'm sorry, I should've started with that. I fought her, but after the fight... I just couldn't bring myself to take the Rune from her. I-I didn't harm her... at least not more than was absolutely necessary.” Sounding a little guilty he added: “Despite how it may look, I have no quarrel with your family...”

There was relief flooding her, when she heard that her mother wasn't harmed. But at the same time she felt irritation rising for the Tarnished's careless way. “Why dost thou deem it fitting to bring this up now?”

“That powerful protective spell... it was yours, right?” He slightly cocked his head. “To protect her and the Great Rune in the amber egg.”

She clenched her fists. “Yes.” Ranni held her head low, so the brim of her hat would obscure her features from the Tarnished. He shouldn't see how much she was hurting.

“I was just wondering if there isn't anything we can do to help her. Something must've happened and maybe... She thinks you are dead. Maybe if you talk to her...”

“Dost thou take me for an idler, Tarnished? Offend me not with thy ignorant words!”, she snapped at him. “Thou knowest naught, naught, about my burden!”

He was quiet for a long moment, then he said in a soft tone: “Forgive me, I didn't mean to offend you.” She heard the sound of metal rustling and when she looked up, she saw him on one knee with his head lowered. Everything of his posture spoke about his remorse and she frowned... She had been too harsh with him. He had been nothing but loyal to her.

Even with his careless words he had meant no harm, just wanting to help her. She fought down the urge to lift his chin with her hand, though she secretly wondered how his stubble would feel on her skin. Her sense of touch was greatly impaired, but she was still able to feel rough textures and most importantly warmth. “Raise thy head, Tarnished.”

He did as told, warm brown eyes meeting ice blue. She sighed. “I... I did not mean to reprimand thee in this manner.” Ranni hesitated before continuing: “The subject of my mother.... it doth bring me grief. Her heart is shattered and no remedy hath been found for that. And oh search for one I did.”

“I see”, he murmured, before carefully asking: “The projection in that spell... was that her before all of that?”

“Tis a fleeting memory of my mother when I was merely a child. Of a time where she hath been whole.” Her lips twitched in a bleak smile as she remembered happier days. “Hadst thou faced her then, thy life would been forfeit. Tough... Mayhaps she even spared thee. She always appreciated a good fight.”

“Your spell alone had me struggling already... I probably wouldn't stand a chance”, he said with a chuckle and she smirked. “Thou'rt selling thyself short. But yes, thou art probably right. There is a reason men and dragons alike bowed their heads before her.”

She didn't know why she kept talking. Usually she would not talk about such sensitive topics with someone she barely knew. Gods, she barely talked about the past with Blaidd or Iji, despite knowing both of them since she could remember. Something about this man made her let down her guard.

As if he just remembered, the Tarnished quickly said: “The knight guarding her, Moongrum, sends his regards.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. Most, if not all of the elite knights had been eradicated when the Knights of the Cuckoo started revolting against her family. That one of the last Carian knights still remained at the side of the queen was unexpected. Though when she thought about it, only Moongrum would be capable – and stubborn – enough to stick to his duty through all those years. It gave her mind peace to know him guarding her mother. “Thou didst not kill him?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “There was no need for it. I let him go... though I'm pretty sure he has a nasty bump from the hit I gave him.” He looked up at her with a frown, still on one knee before her. “Lady Ranni, if you allow me the question... why do so many people think you are dead? What happened?”

She hummed thoughtfully and laid the fingertips of her upper set of hands together. “Hmm, I understand why thou wouldst ask... “ For a second she didn't know if she really should tell him. Then again, he had risked his life multiple times in her service, he had proven to be someone to be trusted. “I slew mine own flesh in a dark rite. Tis why I inhabit this doll's body. The latter is a fact known to only few, so the misinformation of my death is wide spread.” Ranni slightly tilted her head. “And I prefer it staying that way. As I told thee, if information of my name were to spread, it could cause me inconveniences.”

His eyes sparked with curiosity and intrigue. “Why-”

“Tarnished, mine answer shall suffice for now”, she cut him off and he looked slightly disappointed, but then bowed his head. “Thank you for sharing this with me. And be assured I will keep this secret to myself.” Accompanied by the sound of metal moving, he got up and said: “I think I took up enough of your time already. If there isn't anything I can do for you, I will take my leave.”

She felt a pang of disappointment for him to leave already. A part of her wanted to remain like this a little longer, just talking. But she knew it shouldn't be. “And so shall I begin my journey.”

“I bid you safe travel.” The Tarnished smiled at her. “And please let me know if you change your mind and want me to help you with that sleazebag Seluvis.”

Ranni chuckled. “I shall keep thy offer in mind.”

He bowed one last time then turned around. Before she could stop herself, she called out: “Tarnished, wait.”

With a surprised look he turned again to face her and she got off her chair. She picked up a little wooden statuette that had been laying besides a stack of books. “Before I leave, I shall entrust thee with this.” Ranni felt he deserved some kind of reward for serving her. Though she doubted he would immediately know what to do with the item, she was sure he'd figure it out.

The Tarnished took the statue from her and she continued: “My thanks, for thy sterling efforts.” She smiled mockingly when she saw his confused look as he inspected the item. “A strange gift, perhaps, but a rare sort such as thee would welcome it, I am sure.”

He looked up at her with a strange sparkle in his eyes. “Thank you, Lady Ranni.” As he pressed the statue to his chest, he frowned slightly. A little hesitantly he asked: “Ehm... what exactly am I supposed to do with this?”

Ranni couldn't stop a quiet laugh. Oh he was too delightful. “Seek the Carian Study hall in the west of Liurnia. It is there thou shallt find use for this item.”

“That was a surprisingly clear answer from you. Don't tell me my words had a positive impact on you”, he jested and she huffed amused, allowing him his joke. “I always strive to improve.”

There was surprisingly no mockery in voice, but instead sincerity when he bowed slightly and grinned. “Commendable, my Lady.” Was he a sycophant, or was the admiration in his eyes genuine? Ranni was surprised that she wasn't able to tell for certain. His behavior was surprisingly hard for her to read at times... and it intrigued her.

She got back on her chair and folded her hands in her lap. “I am certain now, fate steered us to our first encounter. It was but brief, but thou gavest me fine service.” Her next words only reluctantly left her. “You may leave now.” As much as she didn't want to admit it, she enjoyed his company very much. However, her task wasn't over yet and she didn't want to waste any more time.

The Tarnished looked a little sad for a moment, then he bid her farewell and left. Ranni listened for his steps as he descended the rise, until she was again surrounded by silence. A feeling of melancholy filled her and she allowed herself to feel glum for a moment. She wondered if they'd meet again, though she doubted it.

With a little sigh she shook off the thoughts of the Tarnished and instead inspected the blade he had acquired for her. Now it was time to pitch the final act of her journey. She opened the hand still holding the small flask with the devious potion in it. But first she had to take care of a traitor.

------------------------------------

Seluvis was barely able to contain his excitement. Finally. After all those years of groveling in the dirt and following the orders of that pathetic imitation of a living being... Finally he would have his justice. The doll he created so many years ago, together with the soul inhabiting it, would finally be his.

The Tarnished had been useful after all. At first Seluvis had seen nothing more but another of Ranni's mindlessly loyal pets. It had been bad enough with the filthy troll and the bastard mongrel, the last thing he had wanted was another fool standing in his way. However, he had to rethink his opinion of the man when he started inquiring about his craft. After letting the Tarnished run some errands for him, he had let him in on his scheme. And when he had seen the look in his eyes, Seluvis was sure this Tarnished was special.

With a menacing little giggle he rubbed his hands. At this moment his little apprentice was in the process of making Ranni drink the potion, reducing her to nothing more than the doll she actually was. She liked to think she was still a person, but really, to Seluvis she was nothing more than the sum of wires and porcelain that made up her body. And he felt it was his right to do with that doll whatever he pleased to.

He had no interest in using her. She was unsightly in his opinion. Too many blemishes and none of the fun parts. No, he'd have her kneel before him, all the while the soul of the witch was still entrapped in it. The demigod was so prideful, it would give him unimaginable amounts of bliss to see her grovel under his feet.

It had been obvious the Tarnished was rather infatuated with the demigod, so Seluvis would probably let him have his way with her. After all, good service should be rewarded. Though the taste of the man was really questionable. What satisfaction could ropes and wax bring, all laced with the cold of her magic?

Something in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned to the entrance of his rise. There was the Tarnished, sitting atop his horned steed. Seluvis grinned. “It has been done, I assume?”

“If I were in your shoes, I'd start running. She looked pretty pissed.” The mockery in his voice was undeniable and Seluvis froze in place. “What have you done?”

The man scoffed. “You didn't actually think I would betray her, did you? I fought my way through a gigantic cave, Caelid and a lost city, just to retrieve a single item for her. Not to doubt your intelligence, old man, but I feel it was pretty obvious I am rather loyal to Lady Ranni.”

“You provincial rat! All my work-”

“I would've cut your head off myself, but Ranni said she wants to take things in her own hands. She has quite a few of them, so things really don't look good for you.” The rat was gloating. “As much as I would love to watch your light be snuffed, I have some things to take care of. Farewell Seluvis. Try to die with dignity.” And with that he rode away, leaving the preceptor stunned and mortified.

This was bad! This was really, really bad! Hastily spinning around, he grabbed two important scrolls from the desk and was ready to start running. He had to lay low. Find somewhere he could hide from the demigod and her lackeys.

“Not only a traitor, but a craven to boot?” In the entrance of the rise stood Ranni and Seluvis bit back a whimper. He took in a deep breath and faced her, his voice slightly shaking when he addressed her: “Lady Ranni... What might bring me the honor of your visit?”

“Art thou taking me for a fool, preceptor?”

“Whatever that filthy Tarnished-”

“Do not be mistaken. I only allow thee to draw breath still, because thou art naught but a pathetic worm, no threat to me.” She scowled at him, openly showing her disdain. “I advise thee: waste it not on futile attempts at begging for thy life. Take the advice of the Tarnished to heart and die with dignity.”

“Lady Ranni, I assure you whatever he said to you were lies, told to bring you up against me. I served you good all those years, did I not? Why would you rather believe this provincial simpleton than your loyal servant?” He took a step back when she stepped one forward. The temperatures in the room were falling rapidly and soon he started shivering not only from the fear.

“I told thee not to bother. Thy life is forfeit.” A small mocking smile. “Be glad it is I and not Iji or Blaidd who wilt execute thee for thy treason. I do not spare time for the likes of thee. My judgment will be swift.”

Seluvis took another step back, bumping against his desk. He saw his catalyst and grabbed it. With gritted teeth he pointed the staff at Ranni, who scoffed with one raised eyebrow. His heart raced and his knees felt weak, but he tried to keep his dignity. And he wouldn't go out without a fight. “Look at you. A cheap imitation of life, trying to pose as a living and breathing being. I wish we would have let your wretched soul slip into nothingness on that night.”

“Ah, thou hast decided to show thy true face at last.” There was a dark smile on her lips, almost like she was pleased by this turn of events. In this short moment she reminded him of Rykard. Measured and reserved in most situations, but menacing and cruel as soon as he had his prey before him. Apparently it was a trait running in the family.

Seluvis shot a glintstone arrow at her. It was in vain, he knew it, but he also knew how much it would annoy her. As expected, the projectile glanced off the magic barrier she had woven around herself. An ice blue eye flared up in anger, or an imitation of such. A wave of her hand and an indescribable pain went through his legs, forcing him to his knees. The cold was spreading through his body, like a slow venom.

She stepped in front of him, roughly grabbing his jaw with one hand under his mask and forcing him to look into her face. Cold and hard fingers pressing into his skin, her porcelain nails even drawing blood. “Thy insolence knows no bounds.” Her face seemed almost indifferent, if it weren't for the spectral reflection of it, which showed just how enraged she was.

He remembered the little red haired girl, barely reaching to his hips. How proud she had been when she first managed to cast glintstone pebbles. How she had looked up at him, golden eyes full of fascination when he casted more complex spells. Back then she had been nothing but a sweet child. His first sprouts of distaste towards her grew when he learned she was studying cold sorceries. Heresy. Away from the path of glintstone and moonlight she was supposed to tread as a daughter of the house of night.

She would grow up to become the downfall of her own house. Casting a shadow over the full moon her mother had worked so hard for. Seluvis had despised her for it. For her egotism, the heresy she committed and the disrespect she showed towards him.

“I know this all is nothing but an act. You are pretending to have the upper hand in all of this, but I know that deep down, you are nothing but a scared little girl that bit off more than she can chew. And now look at you, princess. You doomed your house, your family, the whole land! For what? Because you were dissatisfied with the fate laid upon you? You are a spoiled little brat that rather watches thousands die than accepting the path laid out for her!”, he spat with a voice full of hatred. “And at the end of it all, you will be alone. Not even your lackeys left to stand beside you, because you lead them to their death.”

Seluvis felt satisfied with himself when he saw the hurt on her face. His words had hit a nerve, apparently. Ranni averted her eye for a moment, then she took a deep breath. “I tire of thy empty prattle.” The preceptor felt how the cold was now consuming him, draining him and making it impossible for him to move.

Slowly she took off his mask, throwing this sign of his position and reputation in the dirt. Disrespectful. Without any consideration. Like she'd always been. “Oh, thou'st become old, Seluvis. I do not recall thee being so... lined.” With a dark spark in her eye she held up a little flask... It was his draught. Seluvis knew exactly what she wanted to do, but he no longer had any energy to struggle.

“A good cook should always taste his own recipe, before serving it to his masters.” Ranni opened the flask and the preceptor pressed his lips together as tightly as he could. She raised an eyebrow and slightly shook her head. “Craven.” Her fingers dug into the nerves of his jaw, forcing it open. He retched when the sickly sweet tonic ran down his throat, coating it in liquid starlight.

Almost immediately he felt the effect of the draught. His head started spinning and his thoughts became dull and slow. It was really no wonder the potion worked that fast. A tonic capable of turning a demigod into a willing puppet had to be powerful. He wanted to say something, mock her, maybe even insult that accursed doll, but his thoughts slipped his grasp. Seluvis started to drool.

With a disgusted expression Ranni let go of his face. “Thy fate is befitting for a soul so perverted. Join thy beloved puppets.” She turned to leave, not even bothering staying until the end. How much he had done for her. Teaching her glintstone sorceries, supporting her in her endeavor of shedding her Empyrean flesh, crating a new body she could control... and yet that wench had the nerve to just turn around, like his demise was boring her?!

Seluvis hated her so much, that even in his dazed condition he managed to press out some last words: “You... you are a blight on this land. I hope your little Tarnished will come to his senses and... and kill you. For good. You abomination.”

Ranni stopped and looked over her shoulder, not even giving him the respect of turning around properly. “Shame for thee that thou wilt not be around to witness it.” She continued walking. “Farewell, Seluvis.”

Chapter Text

The Tarnished stood outside of the entrance to Caria Manor, shortly looking up at the sky and pondering on where to go next. There was the capital, Leyndell, which he yet had to set foot in. He could also go in the direction of Mount Gelmir, see if he would find anything interesting there. Of course, there was also the ominous study hall Ranni had told him about.

“I'm spoiled for choice”, he sighed and used the spirit whistle to call forth Torrent. The steed materialized from the spirit realm and the Tarnished softly patted his flanks. “What do you say, my friend? Leyndell, Gelmir or the study hall? I mean we are already in Liurnia, so it would be a waste not first checking out what Ranni's gift does.”

Torrent gave him a look full of curiosity and he grinned, holding up the statue he had received for his service. “You should've seen her, when I told her what Seluvis was up to. She was so pissed.” His chuckle was laced with some worry and he looked back to the manor. “I just hope she's going to be okay, wherever she might go from here.”

Carefully Torrent sniffed at the statue, his nostrils flaring. He neighed, shaking his head. The Tarnished watched his companion and his curious behavior. “You know where I can find use for this thing? Ranni said something about a study hall in the east of Liurnia.” When the steed nodded, he raised an eyebrow. “And I thought you were some goat-horse...Apparently you also have some dog in you.” Torrent lowered his head, presenting his horns in a threatening way towards his human friend. Said human laughed and defensively raised his hands. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” The steed huffed and gestured for the Tarnished to finally saddle up.

As he got into Torrent's saddle, he said: “That reminds me: You know Ranni from before. She certainly knew about you when I first met her.” His companion gave him an annoyed look, as if to say “You are aware I can't talk...” and the Tarnished sighed. He had to accept that he probably wouldn't be able to solve all the mysteries surrounding Ranni the Witch.

They rode down the road leading up to the manor, past Iji's still empty forge and the ruins before it. Besides some small foes that barely posed a threat, their way was relatively undisturbed. As they rode through the shallow waters of the grand lake filling the heart of Liurnia, the Tarnished perked up when he heard a soft, almost shy: “Hello... Hello... Please... Over here.”

He pulled the reigns of Torrent to make him stop and looked around. In a pavilion, not too far away, he saw a singular woman, waving at him. Immediately he was suspicious. What was this small, petite woman doing here all by herself... And what in the name of Grace was that posture? She looked like she would keel over any moment. There was obvious distress on her face.

His reasonable side yelled at him to just leave her and the possible trap awaiting him... However, he was too compassionate to just leave someone who could possibly need his help. He remembered how this way of thinking got him into an adventure that ended in him killing a Demigod and sent him spelunking to a long lost city. “I really need to work on myself...”

When he entered the pavilion, the woman smiled happily and relieved. “Hello. Thank you for coming here.” She shivered and now up close, he saw just how pale she was. It almost gave the impression she was sick. Maybe it was in coalition with whatever was going on with the poor girl's back. “It is rather chilly here, isn't it?”

He frowned. “Do you need a cloak? Is that why you called me over?”

She snickered. “Ah, thank you but no. My mistress sent me off on an errand... But I was accosted by a ruffian, and now I'm in a bind. Could I ask you lend a hand, perhaps? That thug made off with a precious necklace. I need someone to retrieve it. Only... He, too, is Tarnished.”

The Tarnished crossed his arms. Who would rob a lonely woman traveling by her own? Or was this the trap? Would she send him right into an ambush? Only one way to find out... While he thought over what to do, she took his silence as rejection. “If you've any qualms confronting your own, I shall find another...” She gave him a small smile as to signalize she wasn't mad if he'd deny.

After another second of hesitation, he sighed. “Alright, do you have an idea where that other Tarnished might be?” Her face lit up in a big smile. “Ohh, thank you dearly. What a blessing we've met like this.” She pointed to the north. “The thug should be resting at an abandoned home down the way...”

When he gave her a nod and started walking back to Torrent, she wrung her hands and said: “Please, I must have the necklace back.” Her voice was so pleading, he started to doubt his own distrust. Maybe she actually was just a poor young woman that got mugged by some scummy Tarnished. Though, maybe she was just a good actor.

He rode down towards where she had pointed and for a while he saw nothing that looked like an abandoned home. Then he saw a little decrepit house in the middle of the lake, smoke rising from towards the entrance of it. When he rounded the corner, he was able to locate the source of the smoke; a man, dressed in rags and with an iron mask brandishing him as a criminal squatted in front of a pan full of prawn. The smell of the food made his stomach rumble.

The Tarnished jumped out of Torrent's saddle and approached the former prisoner. The other man averted his attention from his pan and growled: “What are you lookin' at? You trying to start something, mate?”

“I met a woman that said she was robbed by some thug. And looking at you, I'm pretty sure it was you she was talking about. Now give me the necklace you took from her.”

“Oh, look at you. So the big blade isn't to compensate for a small brain. Maybe it's for a small pecker then?” The other Tarnished laughed at his own joke, but was met with a cold stare and silence. He sighed exasperated. “Anyone's a bloody critic nowadays. So it's the necklace you're after, is it? Hmm, well... Show me, what it's worth to you and I'll consider parting ways with it.” He pulled a small medallion out of his pocket, dangling it over the pan with the boiling prawn. “I'm not in love with it or nothing.”

“How about this: You give me the necklace you stole and I don't ram my sword into that big mouth of yours?” The Tarnished crossed his arms, looking down at the other man.

“Think you bloody clever, do ya? Then how about you piss off?” The other Tarnished returned to tending to his meal and for a moment he thought about making true on his threat and just skewer the bastard. However, he really didn't want the situation to escalate into violence... Also, those prawns looked really good so maybe... “How about I buy the necklace and you sell me some of that prawn.”

The man laughed in a barking manner. “You're a shrewd one, chief. First, you hand me the runes. And don't try nothin', neither.” He stretched a hand out. “Make it a thousand and we're good.”

“A thousand? Damn cutthroat...” Begrudgingly he handed the runes over and the thug threw the necklace towards him. “Hmm, alright. Take it.” Again that barking laugh. “Thing's no damn use to anyone, anyway. Your bloody idea, mate. Don't come crying to me later. Strict no refund policy, that's what I live by. Now sod off.”

“Are you going to sell me some of that prawn or no?” His stomach rumbled once more and the thug sounded rather complacent. “Want some of me prawn? If you can meet the price, I'll sell you some. I'd buy some more for the road if I were you. Shit's tasty even cold.”

The Tarnished turned to Torrent and rummaged through the saddle bag, before he found the small leather pouch he had as a spare. While throwing the runes towards the other man, he said: “Make it thirteen. I'm sick of deer and boar.”

“Marika's tits, you must be 'ungry.” He chuckled and loaded some prawn into the bag. “Never met someone with a taste for prawn I couldn't trust. We'd make good mates, I reckon.”

When the Tarnished took the bag back, he shrugged. “Maybe if you stop mugging ladies.”

“Man's gotta eat and really, it's her own fault for getting duped by me.” He waved him away. “I'll be seeing ya.”

With a sigh the Tarnished got into Torrent's saddle. Some people just didn't want to see the error in their way and he didn't have the time to keep on talking to a wall. While riding back to the woman he munched on some prawn... The man might be a criminal piece of shit, but he could cook.

Back at the pavilion, he held the medallion up. “Is this what you were looking for?”

“Oh yes, that is my missing necklace.” When he gave her the necklace her eyes lit up and she smiled that thin lipped smile again, that reminded him a little bit of a lizard. “Thank you kindly. I am in your debt.”

He gave her a slight bow. “Just be more careful next time... ehm.”

“Oh, did I forget to announce myself? How rude of me, please forgive me. I am Rya, in the service of Lady Tanith of the Volcano Manor. I seek stalwart Tarnished who might join our house.” With the faintest of blushes she stared to the ground. “You are very brave yourself. Not only a steady hand, but a steady heart, merciless, even to your own kind.”

That notion made him frown. Wait, did she think he murdered the other Tarnished? He cleared his throat to correct her, but she continued: “Such strength is precisely what my mistress seeks. Please, take this.” She handed him an envelope made of simple white paper, but with a lavish deep red wax seal. On the front was only one word, written in a beautiful hand. Invitation.

“Brave Tarnished, seek the Altus Plateau, the realm of the Erdtree. Seek out the hold of our house... To fight, amongst a family of champions. The Volcano Manor awaits you.” Another lizard smile and he frowned. He just left the service of one Lady and now he was about to tumble right into the next obligation. And there was still Melina, waiting for him to finally take her to the foot of the Erdtree. How did he manage to constantly get himself in those situations? “Listen, Rya...”

“I have faith in you. A champion, through and through. I do hope that we meet again.” She turned red at the realization of what she just said. “I-I mean... I bid you safe travel.”

He couldn't bring himself to tell her he got her necklace back by buying it, not by fighting her assailant. With an awkward smile, he bowed again. “Well... I'll think about the offer. Be safe, Rya.” He turned and walked back to Torrent. Before saddling up, he hesitated and then took the blanket that he had rolled up and tied to the saddle. With a warm smile he held it out for Rya. “Here. You said you were cold. The days in Liurnia are chilly, but the nights can be outright freezing.”

She stared at the blanket, before she hesitantly took it, the blush now undeniable. At least she was looking a little less pale now. “You are far too kind, Tarnished champion. I hope we see each other again.” She waved at him as he rode off.

Torrent led the way through muddy waters, peaceful meadows and rough cliff sides. It was right before sunset, when they arrived at their destination. A tall tower, looming over them and stretching into the sky.

To their left was the sea, tall waves crashing against the cliff and the spray of the salty water hitting the face of the Tarnished. He hurried inside the building, where he found himself in a small hall with only a few demolished benches to the sides. At the end wall of the hall was a model of the moon, similar to the one in the debate parlor at Raya Lucaria, though this one was much smaller. In front of it was a pedestal, which was empty besides a few candles. The whole thing almost looked like an altar.

To both sides of the altar were openings, leading deeper into the study hall. With slow steps the Tarnished continued, ready for an ambush at any second. He stepped onto an elevator, which took him up. From there he entered a giant hall, basically as large as the whole tower. He looked up and saw a bunch of big chandeliers suspended from sturdy wooden beams.

His steps echoed through the hall as he completely entered it to have a better look around. For a place called study hall there were surprisingly few books in here. He frowned slightly when he heard the sound of water and stepped towards the railing to look down the center of the hall. Indeed, there was water splashing down. What a weird place.

The sound of footsteps made him divert his attention from the strange architecture. A single person was walking down the stairs from the upper level of the tower, a glintstone staff already in their hand. They wore an attire that was all too familiar to the Tarnished. A wide-brimmed hat, with delicate embroidery on the deep blue underside of the brim and a brass mask covering their face, with a cross pattern over the mouth. The rest of their clothes consisted of a pair of simple black trousers, a blue tunic with golden stripes and a loose flowing black jacket over it. A preceptor.

“You!” He was surprised to hear a woman's voice from underneath the mask. For some reason he had expected this preceptor to be an old arrogant man... Instead it was an old woman.“Whatever you're looking for, you won't find it here.”

The Tarnished defensively raised his hands. “I'm not looking for a fight. You are in the service of the Carian royal family, no?”

The woman scoffed. “What does it matter to you?”

“I met a man in similar garments to yours. Preceptor Seluvis.”

“Seluvis is still alive?” She sounded surprised and he squirmed a little. “Well... Last I saw him he was alive.” Thar wasn't a lie... Though he doubted the old man was still in the realm of the living. But that was a fact that had no importance in this situation.

She pointed at her mask. “If you met Seluvis, then you should know that, of course, I serve the house of the moon. This mask used to have a meaning, until everything went to shit. Despite the sad state of affairs, I still keep to my vows. Which is precisely why I can't let you go any further. I vowed to keep the secrets of house Caria, and as much as it offends me to keep this most shameful one, it is still my duty.”

“We don't have to be enemies”, he said. “I'm just-”

“Are you dense? I will not let you pass.” She sounded pretty annoyed by now and he saw how she tightened her grip around her catalyst. The Tarnished held the wooden statue up for her to see. “I found this item and was told I'd find use for it here.” Of course he kept the information back who'd given him the item. After all he had promised Ranni and he wouldn't make the same mistake he made with Moongrum.

At seeing the figurine, the preceptor snorted and now completely lowered her glintstone staff. “Found? Oh sure. So you met the girl. Pah, I should've figured after you asked about my service to Caria.” She shook her head, disbelieve in her voice. “Not only does she plunge her house into despair, now she's flaunting her shame around. A rotten egg, through and through.”

The Tarnished kept silent, listening to the old woman without reacting to her words. He feared he might give anything away by speaking hastily. It wasn't completely clear if she spoke about Ranni, or maybe someone else associated with house Caria. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Ach, don't look at me like that. You know exactly who I'm talking about. Lunar Princess Ranni. Or Ranni the Witch, how she likes to call herself nowadays. Understandable she would abandon her title, after burning down literally everything that made her house great.” There was undeniable loathing in her voice and the Tarnished wondered if all preceptors were bitter old geezers. Or maybe they all were that way because of the dark secrets they had to keep...

He cleared his throat. “That is enough...”

“You Tarnished dimwit have no idea how much we all had to suffer thanks to that wench”, the preceptor growled, taken over by her anger. “We used to have pride. Strength. We fought back the Golden Order more than once. And now all that is left are crumbling ruins and shambling corpses. The fault for this lies with no one but Ranni.” She gesticulated agitated. “If it weren't for her, Caria might still be the power it used to be. All because of that egotistical bitch...”

“Mind your tongue!”, the Tarnished barked, having enough of her insults towards his former mistress. There was a short pause and only the quiet splashing sounds of the water underneath them broke through the silence. Then the preceptor laughed joyless. “You sound like that mongrel she got from the Two Fingers. Be a good dog and leave these halls, wag your tail at master and leave me be. You don't know a thing about the things she did, do you? Of course not, otherwise you wouldn't defend that little...”

“I told you to stop insulting her!” He furrowed his brow and clenched his fists, anger stirring in his guts. The Tarnished wasn't stupid, he was aware that he knew basically nothing about Ranni's past and therefore shouldn't be the one to judge the people that despised her for what she did. However, she had been nothing but good to him. And how could he, someone who didn't even remember his past besides a few hazy memories, judge someone else for their past? No, he wouldn't allow her to talk bad about Ranni.

“Your blind loyalty won't impress her, Tarnished. She'll use you and throw you into a ditch, as soon as you lose your value for her.” She shot a glintstone projectile at him, but he reacted fast enough and evaded it. “Let me do you a favor and end your journey right here, before you can help her cause even more harm.”

He glared at her. “How about, instead of blindly insulting her, you tell me what apparently horrible things Lady Ranni did.” While he had his sword at the ready, he didn't attack her just yet. His curiosity of what she might know was too big to burn that bridge immediately, even though he'd love to.

“Lady Ranni... By the moon, you really are as smart as a rock. Is the leash she has on you so tight around your neck, that it stops the blood from reaching your pea-brain?” A snarling laugh emerged from under the mask. “I already told you, you won't get any information from here. These lands may have forgotten what honor means, but I haven't. No matter my personal feelings towards that runt, I stay true to my vow. Now go hump master's leg.”

The Tarnished had enough. He wasn't about to let that hag insult him any longer. In a careful motion he placed the statue on the ground, so he had both of his hands free for the upcoming fight. The preceptor watched him attentively. “Don't tell me, my words have hurt you?” When he unsheathed his sword, she scoffed. “Fine. Mark my words, witless fool: My name is Miriam, preceptor of the sorcerous arts. And I will put an end to your miserable existence.”

He didn't bother explaining he had no name, knowing it would earn him nothing but more mockery. Instead he hurried towards Miriam, trying to close the distance between them as fast as possible. As a caster she was at an advantage as long as she managed to keep him at distance.

She threw a multitude of spells at him, trying to stop him. Most of her spells were aimed at his legs, probably to make him fall and turn him into an easy target. Twice she almost succeeded, but then he was close enough and tried to pierce through her chest with his sword. Before metal could meet flesh, she dissolved into blue sparks. Frowning, the Tarnished looked around frantically.

A big arrow of magic hit him in the shoulder and the impact sent him tumbling. From a higher point of the hall, Miriam waved at him. “What's the matter, little dog? You make a horrible guard dog with how slow you react.” She conjured a big bow of magic, another arrow already charged. The arrow missed him, as he was already running again, now up the stairs. A flash of blue in the corner of his eye made him twirl around quickly, just in time to evade the dagger of the spirit of a noble. The Tarnished scoffed and ignored the spirit. He knew that it was a distraction to keep him in place so the preceptor could take aim at him.

Just as he was about to reach her again, she laughed and yet again vanished in a cloud of sparks. Frustrated, the Tarnished growled and spotted her even further up. “Will you stop running away?!” He received another arrow as an answer. Making his way up, he avoided arrows and glintstone projectiles. With each attack he managed to evade, his anger grew.

Finally he reached the level of the hall she was standing on, glaring her and still at some distance. Miriam swung her catalyst, sending glintstone at him. “I can see why she would take you into her service. You really aren't the brightest. Someone like you would never put her orders into question.”

The Tarnished didn't answer for a moment. He knew that simply charging at her wouldn't work, she'd just teleport away again before he could hit her. No, he had to apply some tactic here or she'd have him running up and down this damn hall all day. While slowly feeling along his belt for the right item, he said: “You seem to enjoy insulting people, but all I've seen from you is running away.”

“Do you think you will make me act reckless by barking at me? Please, you can't actually believe it's that easy.” Miriam readied another arrow and the Tarnished grinned menacingly. Just as she charged the projectile, he threw one of the pots he had on his belt for quick access.

The pot shattered right in front of the preceptor, cloaking her in a cloud of violet dust. She coughed and stumbled backwards, the arrow she wanted to shoot at him darting towards the ceiling. “Bastard...” Her speech was sluggish and she seemed disorientated. He seized the opportunity and stormed forward, his grip around the hilt of his blade steady. The dust had the property of making anyone inhaling it fall asleep, or at least very sleepy. And while Miriam was successfully fighting against completely losing consciousness, she was very slow nonetheless.

The Tarnished held his breath, as he dashed through the cloud of sleeping powder and jousted the tip of his blade right towards his opponent. Miriam quickly raised her catalyst, diverting the blade from piercing her stomach. She groaned when his sword left a very nasty gash in her side. Parts of her intestines slipped out of her insides and she pressed her free hand on the wound. Before the Tarnished was able to twirl his blade around and decapitate her, she waved her catalyst and teleported away.

When his sword missed it's target and instead sank into the wooden railing, he cursed frustrated. He looked around, trying to spot the preceptor but she was nowhere to be seen. There were also no more projectiles thrown his way and after a few minutes of wariness he sheathed his sword again. Apparently Miriam teleported away to a safe place to lick her wounds. He hoped she would crawl into some dark corner and just die.

Now undisturbed he finally took his time exploring the study hall. His fight with the preceptor had already led him to the highest level of the hall, above him was nothing more but the wooden beams holding the chandeliers. After looking for any secret leavers or mechanisms, he returned to the bottom of the hall, a deep frown on his face. There was nothing here. No secret knowledge, no valuable items, nothing.

On his way back to the entrance of the hall, he grabbed the statue he had received from Ranni and looked at it. Had she tricked him? Was this item just a rouse to get him going so he would leave her alone? Disappointed he pressed his lips together and left the big hall. So much for rewarding him for his service.

Back in the small room with the altar at the front, he sat down at the Site of Grace and yet again looked at the wooden figurine in his hand. It was masterfully carved, depicting a scholar in the typical robes of Caria. On the flat piece above the head of the figurine were runes, carved into the wood. The Tarnished wasn't able to read them.

“You have quite the tendency to get sidetracked”, a familiar voice mumbled and he looked up from the item in his hands. Melina sat on one of the benches, watching her Tarnished with an amused spark in her open eye. He sighed. “I am afraid I have been scammed.”

She tilted her head slightly. “How so?”

With an almost bitter sigh he held up the figurine. “Ranni gave me this as a reward for getting her that strange dagger out of Nokron and told me to go here. But there is nothing here.” He put the item on the ground and got to his feet. “She probably just wanted me gone, so she threw some junk at me. Come, let us move on.”

Melina pursed her lips and sighed after a moment of contemplation. “Demigods are deceitful, you should keep that in mind. However... in this case she actually made you a surprisingly valuable gift. If I didn't know better, I would almost say she trusts you.” She got up and picked the figurine from the ground. While pointing to the altar, she handed him the item. “Take a closer look.”

The Tarnished raised an eyebrow, but took the item from her and walked towards the altar with the model of the moon behind it. In the middle of the pedestal was a small elevation he had overlooked his first time walking past it. Immediately he knew what to do. Carefully he put the figurine on the altar, but nothing happened and he frowned. He was missing something...

The runes on top of the item caught his eyes and he cocked his head. He turned the figurine upside-down and placed it on the obvious mechanism. This time there was a reaction. A loud clacking sound rung through the hall, as if something had been unlocked, and a heavy wave of magical energy ran through his body while the ground was shaking. Then the model of the moon in front of him started to spin and turn, accompanied by the sound of cogs turning. After a few more seconds the model locked stopped moving and locked into its new position.

With wide eyes the Tarnished turned around to Melina, who looked at him with a small smile. “Did you know this would happen?”, he asked stunned, still feeling the tingling sensation of the magic all over his body. She shrugged. “I had a suspicion. Now please finish your business here, so we can proceed on our way to the Erdtree.”

He nodded and rounded the corner to the elevator. Only, there was no longer an elevator, but only a hole in the ground, leading to a certain death. Across the pit was an opening in the wall, so he took two steps back before jumping. As soon as he stepped through the opening, he was greeted by a sight that made him recoil. Hand-spiders, crawling rapidly towards him.

In a quick motion he drew his sword. Two of the abominations were killed easily, but the third managed to jump onto his back and the Tarnished shrieked disgusted. Frantically reaching to his back, he dropped his sword and managed to get a firm grab on the hand. “Get off of me!” He threw it down the pit behind him. A cold shiver ran down his spine and he hastily rubbed his hands on his pants to get any possible traces of hand-spider off of them.

After a few more seconds of calming himself, he finally took a look around. He was back in the central hall, but this time... everything was upside-down. With an impressed whistle he looked down to the chandeliers. Carian magic surely was impressive. Just as he was about look where to go next, a magical arrow almost pierced him. He jumped back from the precipice in front of him and looked up.

Miriam stood a little elevated to his position, her magical bow ready again. Her robes were drenched in blood and there was still blood dripping to the ground, she obviously didn't have time to take care of her wound. “You scream like a little girl.” She shot glintstone at him, but he evaded the attack easily.

The Tarnished glared up at her. “Just let me pass, you hag.”

She scoffed. “Try it, you dirty mutt. As long as I draw breath, you won't reach what you're looking for.”

He grinned. “Well... As long as you draw breath? Let's change that, then.”

Chapter Text

Blaidd sprinted as fast as his legs allowed him. His thighs burned and he was out of breath, but he couldn't stop now. Not now, when Ranni was in danger. He had felt the distress through his connection with his mistress not too long ago. It had been enough to deter him from his task at hand and return to the manor post haste.

He was a shadow, created by the Grater Will. His purpose was to protect the Empyrean he was created for. Be the living shield for that person, so that they one day ascent to godhood and serve the Greater Will.

The first years of his life he had spent in the golden capital, learning how to wield a blade under the tutelage of the Black Blade Maliketh. The hulking wolf was the shadow of Marika the Eternal, the current Goddess under the Greater Will. Blaidd had admired his teacher and the bond he had with his Empyrean. How she, this woman that always carried herself with such grace and dignity, called the beast her brother. Secretly, he had wondered if he would ever have such a bond with the Empyrean the Greater Will had chosen for him.

Throughout those years bathed in gold, he felt sudden spikes of emotions from time to time. Joy. Anger. Sadness. They came unexpectedly, completely out of context for him. Maliketh had explained to him that what he felt weren't his own emotions, but rather the ones of the Empyrean he was connected to. And from that moment on Blaidd had spent more attention and waited for those little impulses. They had been his only connection to this being he was created for to protect.

It was on his seventh birthday, when he left Leyndell, accompanied by a few high ranking guards and even Marika herself. Their destination, Liurnia, had been shrouded in fog that day. Though it almost always was foggy in the land of the lakes. There had been celebrations at Caria Manor on that day. After all, the princess celebrated her seventh birthday.

He would never forget the moment the herald announced the arrival of Marika the Eternal and how a hall full of people went silent from one moment to the other. Neither would he forget the cold glare he received from Radagon as Marika introduced him to the royal family. But most importantly would he never forget when he first met Lunar Princess Ranni. The girl was surprisingly small for someone of her lineage. With flaming red locks and golden eyes, just like her father. Her face dotted with freckles and mischief lingering behind a youthful gaze.

When Blaidd had recited the vow he learned from Maliketh, swearing to always protect her, the girl had avoided his eyes and didn't say anything to his heartfelt words. There had been nothing but disappointment for him. Why was his Empyrean not happy finally meeting him, like he was? Why was all he felt through the connection he had with her fear and anger? He had wished his Empyrean would be like Marika. Graceful and enchanting.

It would take many moons before she felt comfortable with his presence and even more until she actually started liking him. But they became inseparable eventually. The Empyrean and her faithful shadow. And with the passing of years, he had realized just how hollow the words were Maliketh had taught him about his purpose in life. He learned to despise the Two Fingers, that had created him just as a safeguard should Ranni ever chose to turn against them. To kill her in that case.

Blaidd would never harm his sister. No matter what might happen, he was part of her being. He would protect her till the very end.

When he finally arrived at the Three Sisters, his lungs were burning and he had to take a moment to catch his breath. He knew Ranni was here somewhere, so he hastily walked towards the tower in the middle of the plateau. When he saw her walking towards the tower on the right side he sighed relieved and jogged towards her.

“Ranni!”, he gasped, still out of breath. “What happened? I just-”

“Seluvis betrayed us.” Her answer was short, anger tinging the usually measured voice of hers. “He plotted right under our noses.”

Blaidd bared his teeth, drawing his sword. “I will behead that weasel.” There had always been a bad feeling when he talked to Seluvis, but the old man had proven himself useful to their cause. Sadly. Otherwise Blaidd might've had killed that bastard much earlier. Concerned he looked at her. “Did he hurt you?”

Ranni scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “Art thou believing me weak, Blaidd?”

He sighed. “Of course not. I was just worried he might've caught you by surprise and-”

“I am fine, my friend”, she interrupted him and eyed the sword in his hands. “And there is no need for thee to fling thy sword around. Seluvis already got his comeuppance, delivered by my hands. I took his betrayal quite personal...”

Prideful and unwilling to allow any form of concern towards her. Yes, she really was just fine. “What was he planning?” Blaidd put away his sword, though his blood was still boiling.

She hesitated for a moment, before she continued walking towards the third tower. “Thou art familiar with the puppetry tonics of the Nox?” When he shook his head, she sighed slightly annoyed. “Reading a book now and then really would cause thee no harm.”

“I've read plenty books. Just not ones about obscure knowledge of long lost civilizations”, he retorted grumpily. “Now will you tell me about this tonic, or will you have me search for the book about it.”

“The Nox developed a tonic, infused with starlight, to turn people deemed unfit into servants. Said people are called puppets and are denied any sense of self. Tis a wicked and despicable practice that mostly fell with the demise of the Nox.” Ranni pulled a grimace. “Seluvis planned on using a modified version of the tonic on me.” She shuddered. “What he wanted to do... I rather not ponder on it.”

Blaidd growled. “I hope you didn't give him an easy death.”

“He received the justice befitting his deeds.” Her voice was cold and he nodded satisfied, knowing Seluvis had been taken care of. “Good.” They walked a bit without talking, before he asked: “How did you notice the betrayal?”

“The Tarnished”, she murmured and an amused undertone was audible when she added: “He had some personal agenda against the preceptor. Childish as his motives may seem... He saved me.”

“The Tarnished? Hah, he didn't even tell me about his plans. The audacity”, he grumbled begrudgingly and Ranni said quietly, almost more to herself than to her shadow: “A peculiar one, is he not?”

Blaidd saw the small smile on her lips and he raised an eyebrow. She wasn't usually that warm towards people outside of her little group of allies. He remembered the way the Tarnished had reacted, when Blaidd confronted him with his suspicion of the man liking Ranni. And maybe it was just his imagination playing tricks on him, but he could've sworn he felt that little spark of affection when she spoke about the Tarnished. Now he wondered... “Hmm... Interesting.”

“What?” Ranni looked at him with a frown and he laughed quietly. “Ah, don't mind me. Anyways, where are you heading?”

“I am in possession of the ritual blade. Tis time I sever my chains once and for all.” Her tone was dire and determined. Blaidd couldn't help but feel worried. He knew what she was going to do and he knew that her way ahead wasn't without danger. “Should I-”

“Let me stop thee right there”, she interrupted him brusquely once more. “Tis my onus to carry on and dispose of my Two Fingers. I appreciate thy concern, but given the nature of thy existence...”

“You think I would attack you?” He stopped and looked at her in disbelieve, hurt and offended. Ranni sighed quietly. “Blaidd... Thou knowest I trust thee. Thou wouldst never purposefully cause me harm, I firmly believe that. But-”

Now it was his turn to interrupt her. “You think me so weak that I won't be able to fend off the will of the Two Fingers?” She didn't look at him. “Believing thee weak; I do not. However, I believe that this is outside of thy control.” When she raised her gaze to look him in the eyes, he saw the undeniable sadness in hers. “The end of my journey... it draws close. I can not risk any decisions made with the heart rather than the mind...”

He realized what she was implying and his shoulders slouched. “You... you will abandon us?” Of course he had known that she one day would leave the Lands Between, to set her order in motion. However, he hadn't expected her to leave them behind so soon. “And if I hadn't come here to check on things... You would just leave without saying farewell?”

Blaidd felt the sadness churning inside of her, but there was also some anger. “Thou hast been aware this day might come. I will not have thee paint it like I hath been deceitful towards thee and Iji.” A lot softer she added: “And of all people... Thou shouldst be aware I do not fare well with goodbyes.”

He remembered the little twelve year old girl, watching her father leaving without so much as saying farewell. Leaving behind his family to follow the call of Marika. He remembered the pain and resentment of her in that moment. She would never truly recover from that betrayal.

With a heavy sigh he stared at the ground. “I know...” He cleared his throat. “So this is it? Are you ready for the dark path?” As much as he wanted to, he knew there was no point in arguing with her further. She wouldn't budge on his request to join her.

Uncertainty was visible on her face for a split-second, but she quickly composed herself. “We worked towards this for centuries. If I am not ready now, then I might never be.” A little sigh. “Well then, my friend. Despite my personal wish to avoid this exact situation... I bid thee farewell.” Both of them knew that they would never see each other again, should she succeed in her plan. She would ascend to godhood, abandoning the Lands Between and leave everything and everyone she knew behind.

Blaidd looked down at her for a moment, before he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. “You be careful, alright? And if you need help after all... you can always call upon me.”

As she returned the hug, he felt the cold seep though, despite his cloak. “I thank thee. For everything.” Ranni stepped back and turned towards the tower. “Let us not ponder any longer. Despite the end in sight, my way still lieth long and arduous before me.” As she climbed the stairs to the entry of the rise, he stayed back and watched her. At the last step she hesitated, before turning around once more. “Tell Iji I'm sorry...”

“He will understand”, he interrupted her and she smiled weakly, a weary look in her eye. “I know... the big fool...” For a moment she let her facade of the untouchable demigod fall and he saw her for what she actually was. A tired and exhausted woman, who's life had been shaped by hardship and loss. She was ready to sacrifice everything she knew, just so others after her might not experience what she had to. Walking alone in the dark, so others didn't have to.

“Shouldst thou meet the Tarnished again... send him my regards.” She finally completely entered the tower and he couldn't see her anymore. Blaidd murmured: “I will do that.” He knew that Ranni's and his way together ended here. But for some reason he had the hunch that the road of her and Tarnished together was far from over.

With a melancholic smile he turned and started to walk towards Iji's forge in front of the manor. The troll wanted to show him something and usually his finds were always worth the visit...

------------------------------------

The Tarnished pressed his jaws together, so much so his teeth hurt. The anger burning inside of him was enough to start a fire. For the fourth time he entered the inverted study hall, yet again facing the object of his ire. Preceptor Miriam.

The old woman was proving herself more bothersome than he had expected. Her ranged magic, in combination with the small ledges he had to pass to even reach her, had him falling to his death three times by now. And each time he shattered his bones, the preceptor only became more smug.

“Ah, Tarnished. Ready to yet again run against a stone wall in hopes it might shatter? You're starting to bore me. Why don't you leave already?” She made a waving motion with her catalyst. “Your Lady surely is waiting for you.”

“I will shove that fucking staff so far up your arse you'll taste glintstone, you hag”, he shouted back at her, letting his anger take over. She clicked tongue I a exaggerated disapproving manner. “By the moon, that is not a very knightly way to speak.”

With swift steps he started to make his way towards her, pressing himself to the wall and constantly ready to evade any possible attacks. Finally, after dodging two great magical arrows, he managed to reach her.

Annoyed she clicked her tongue, then snapped her fingers once and sending a salve of glintstone shards towards him. The Tarnished had enough of this endless cat and mouse game, pushing forward despite a few of the projectiles hitting him. He almost had her. Almost... With a surprised croaking sound he stumbled forward, when a blade pierced through his chest from behind. His eyes wide, he looked down at the ghostly blue blade sticking out of his chest. Where did that spectral knight come from?!

His knees gave in and he fell to the ground. Miriam put a boot on his head, digging her heel deep into his scalp. “You can come barking at me over and over again, little Tarnished. And I will gladly end you. Over and over again.” With that she kicked him off the ledge, down towards the distant ground of the tower. Thankfully he was dead before he hit it.

Darkness.

When he opened his eyes again, he sat back in front of Grace. Before he could compose himself, he growled in rage and furiously kicked one of the benches. Melina, who had waited for him the whole time and watched him fail again and again, raised an eyebrow at his outburst. The Tarnished caught her gaze and raised a finger. “Not. A. Word.”

Defensively she raised her hands. “Oh, I wasn't about to say anything. But if you may allow me to give you advice; maybe try changing your approach. It is rather apparent bluntly running at her is not the way to success.”

Already feeling guilty for snapping at her, he took a deep breath. “She's just one old lady, how does she give me so much trouble?” He dropped onto one of the benches. “And now she has spectral knights that stab me in the back. Add to that those disgusting hand things and a seemingly endless fall should I do one wrong step... Just how am I supposed to beat her.”

“You could always leave. I mean what do you think she protects? And do you think it is worth all the trouble you're going through?” Melina absentmindedly picked off a piece of fluff from her cloak. He pondered on her words for a second, before he shook his head. “I already put in too much effort to just give up now. Also... Whatever I will find must surely be valuable. Otherwise Ranni wouldn't have given me the key to it.”

“Yet again you're interpreting good intent into the actions of the demigod.” She looked at him, her one eye full of severity. “Don't let your judgment be clouded by your feelings for her.”

Annoyed he clicked his tongue and stood up. “How many times? I don't fancy her! And she didn't give me reason to question her intent when she gave me the gift.” With anger burning in his eyes he looked at her. “If you didn't want me to find what is hidden here, then you shouldn't have shown me what the statue does.”

A few moments of tense silence passed, before Melina crossed her legs and calmly said: “We have an accord, Tarnished. I substitute for your Fingermaiden and you bring me to the capital. The conditions of our agreement are clear and simple.” Now she stood up, to stand before him face to face. “And your obsession with the demigod is becoming a nuisance, to be honest. You stray from the path of becoming Elden Lord. Rather keeping yourself busy with menial tasks than face the obvious decision you have to make.”

He returned her gaze without blinking. “And what might be that decision?”

“Will you trust the words of the Two Fingers, or will you rather trust the demigod?” She wasn't intimidated by him. “You can't have both, you know that. And you have to decide sooner rather than later.”

His laugh was almost bitter. “Oh please, we both know in which direction you want to push me. Grace, you can't even say her name. You know something I don't, and yet instead of speaking plain you keep on talking in vague suggestions.”

“Tarnished...” Melina sighed and rubbed her temples.

“No one in these fucking lands can speak just the truth. Spare me your cryptic ramblings.” He turned to leave. “You may leave, if you so much choose. I will continue here, until I finally get some answers.” His steps were quick and driven by anger. Everyone thought to use him as their pawn. The gullible Tarnished, too nice to refuse help.

Stepping back into the inverted study hall, he focused on his task ahead. Using his anger as fuel for faster and heavier hits. Splitting both hand-spider and spectral soldiers in half. He would find Miriam. He would kill her and finally uncover whatever secret lied hidden in this tower.

With a quick motion of his blade he managed to deflect the big glintstone shard aimed at his head. Miriam opened her arms and mockingly laughed. “Back for another lesson in humility so soon, little mutt?”

The Tarnished didn't react to her provocation, instead he threw a poison covered knife at her. Miriam avoided to get hit, but it was obvious she was taken aback by his cold rage. Her movements became far less confidant and fluid, and more hesitant and cautious. Too cautious, in fact.

While being on guard for any throwing weapons, she neglected to keep him at a distance. When he was only at arms length from her, he saw how she tried to teleport away. He hurried forward and managed to land a hefty punch right into the gaping wound in her side. Miriam screamed in pain and her concentration was disrupted for long enough to stop her from teleporting.

She raised her catalyst with shaking hands, trying to fire a glintstone incantation at him. But he didn't hesitate and gripped her arm. With a brutal motion he broke the arm right at the elbow, making her drop her staff. The Tarnished didn't relish in violence and pain, however, he couldn't deny he felt a certain satisfaction seeing the preceptor squirming in pain.

Miriam held her arm, huffing with pain. She stared at him, and from up close he could see her green eyes filled with fear though the eyeholes of the mask. He had seen that look so many times already. When hubris was replaced by terror. It didn't move him. Neither joy nor guilt for what he did filled him. He didn't enjoy bloodshed, but he did what was necessary.

“What now? Will you gloat and keep on barking at me?” She had nowhere to retreat to, so she faced him with pain obviously weakening her. “Just get going and get your greedy fingers on what you came here for. Stop trying to act like a benevolent knight and finally be the Tarnished piece of scum you actually are.” It was obvious she gave up. Letting him pass, in hopes he would spare her life. Though she surely wasn't humble about it.

The Tarnished just stared at her for a few moments, contemplating his choice. Then he sighed and stepped past her. As much as he wished to turn her into kebab with his blade, he was no bloodthirsty brute. He wouldn't strike against someone who surrendered. Maybe it was stupid and reckless, but he had his honor.

He didn't even take three steps, before he regretted his choice. Miriam, who had grabbed her catalyst again, hit him over the head with the wood of the staff. The hit wasn't nearly hard enough to knock him out, but it surely hurt and would leave a bump. Growling in anger he turned around to face her. “Are you longing for death, woman?!”

“Tell your mistress that she might be able to fool her little circle of bootlickers. But the ones loyal to Caria will never forget or forgive her for what she did.” She pulled off her mask and scowled at him, pure hatred in her aged face. “Tell her that I wish any possible suffering upon her. I hope the Golden One gets his hands on her and...” The Tarnished gave her a hard push, sending her stumbling over the ledge and falling to her death. Her eyes were wide with surprise when she lost her footing.

He didn't even wait for the sound of impact when her body hit the ground, instead he just continued on. From that point onward he faced only minimal threats, one of them being gravity. The way down was risky and he was mainly focused on not falling himself. After he jumped onto an elevator, using the lever to send it downwards, he knew that the worst part was over.

When he reached the bottom – or rather the top – of the tower, he spotted Miriams shattered body. The impact hadn't been to kind to her, bones obviously broken and blood oozing out of her mouth and nose. The gaze of her unseeing green eyes was directed towards a big door, leading out of the tower. “Not teleporting away now, are we?” He stepped past the corpse and opened the door.

For a moment he felt dizzy, his vision blurry and his head pierced by pain. The next moment he stood on a bridge, leading to the Divine Tower of Liurnia. The ocean was rumbling underneath him and when he turned around he saw the tower of the study hall. Nothing looked out of place or upside-down.

His way across the bridge was uneventful, the tall tower ahead of him looming over him. Despite the apparently safety, he was on guard. By now he almost expected to face a new foe to jump at him. But he reached the tower without any incidents. While taking the lift up to the top of the tower, he wondered what might await him.

He had been on the top of the Divine Tower in Limgrave, encountering the rotting corpse of Two Fingers. Would he find those here too? Or was there some treasure Ranni wanted him to have? Because as of now, this whole endeavor had been nothing but a waste of time and nerves.

After taking a few more steps upwards, the Tarnished reached the top of the building. The platform in front of him was almost completely empty, only a single motionless figure was lying on the ground in the middle of it. He carefully stepped closer to it, keeping his curiosity at bay as he approached. It was a corpse, that much was quickly apparent.

The Tarnished inspected the corpse in front of him with a furrowed brow. Who was this? Or more accurately: who had this been? And why did Ranni give him the item needed to find this corpse?

There weren't many factors left to identify the person, all that was left were scraps of the clothing and the golden bracelets. Judging by the proportions, he surmised that the person had been female. He thought that, whoever she had been, it had been one tall lady. Even he, who stood pretty tall, would've needed to look up at her.

Her skin was almost completely burned and besides a few red strands there was no hair left. Some parts, like her right arm and her feet, were completely turned to ash. Broken away and carried off by the wind.

There was a big mark in the bare back of the corpse. A half circle, disrupted by lines, giving it almost the appearance of a centipede. Right beside that mark was a grizzly and deep wound, probably caused by a dagger. He pulled a grimace and almost pitied the poor woman. Her death hadn't been quick, nor painless. The dagger would've pierced her lung, making her slowly drown in her own blood. A rather painful way to go, one he had experienced himself already.

He caught a glimmer of gold amid the ash and picked the small item up. A talisman. The Tarnished looked at it in the golden light of the Erdtree. There was a small engraving on it, of a woman gazing up at a sky with a shooting star. He raised his eyes from the talisman, to yet again look at the body.

A woman, killed in some form of ritual and with connection to the stars? The coin finally dropped and he raised his eyebrows. “Oh my Lady...” Why would she have done this? What had forced her to such drastic and gruesome measures? He tilted his head, again wondering why Ranni wanted him to see this. Just for him to retrieve the talisman? Yet again he was left with more questions than before and almost no answers.

With slow steps he approached the edge of the platform, leaning onto the railing. He looked into the distance, trying to sort out his thoughts. Melina was right. He was stalling for time, because he was hesitant to make a decision. But how could he even make this decision, when so many lives would be affected by it.

As of now there were two roads he could walk.

Mend the Elden Ring, become Elden Lord and reign over the Lands Between under the Greater Will and Erdtree. He would change almost nothing with this decision, only trying to rebuild a fractured land. In turn he would accept the yoke laid on him by the Greater Will. Golden shackles, binding him to the will of a God.

Or he could walk alongside Ranni. Usurping Marika and the Greater Will. But he still didn't know what consequences this would have for these lands. Would there even be a future without the guiding God? What if Ranni was just grasping at all the power for herself, deceiving him so he would do her bidding? There were just too many questions yet unanswered. Melina's words were still vivid in his mind.

Demigods are deceitful.

He turned to look at the corpse. A dire reminder of the lengths Ranni was willing to go to reach her goal. The cool winds of Liurnia caressing over his face, he looked down at the talisman in his hand. Could he trust Ranni? Should he trust her? The Tarnished closed his fist around the little piece of gold and started leaving the top of the tower, descending back to the entrance of the study hall.

When he reached the Site of Grace, he sat down and almost abashedly said: “Melina... Are you still here?” She appeared across from him, her features neutral and any possible feelings hidden behind a mask of indifference. He cleared his throat. “I am sorry for the way I reacted to your words. You are right, I need to make a decision.”

“Have you been able to reach your equilibrium atop the tower?” There was no mockery in her voice, in fact she sounded rather tense. The Tarnished nodded and in a deliberate and careful manner he said: “I will stay on my road to become Elden Lord. However... I will no longer follow the guidance of the Two Fingers. Ranni has a reason to do what she does. And it must be a good one, when she was willing to discard her own body for it.” Again he looked at the talisman in his hand. “I... I want to see what her plan might lead to. The Greater Will had its chance to rule the Lands Between and it failed. I won't help anyone by restoring an order broken beyond repair. We need change and I believe Ranni might bring just that change.” He smiled awkwardly at her. “I will bring you to the capital, no matter which path I go.”

“I see”, was all Melina said for a long moment. Then she smiled softly and took his hand. “Tarnished, no matter your decision I will follow you. I chose you, out of all the Tarnished wandering these lands, because I sensed something special about you. And I trust that you won't make a decision that could bring misery to the denizens of the Lands Between.” Slowly she retreated her hand. “Just... be weary of the words of... Ranni. While her intentions might be selfless; her methods of reaching her goals are ruthless. I don't want you to become another corpse left in her wake.”

Those words made him hesitate. Melina seemed to know Ranni pretty well, judging by the way she spoke. But he also knew that she probably wouldn't answer his questions. So instead he nodded and got to his feet. “I will not blindly trust her words. That is why I want to talk to her again, before we finally enter Leyndell. There are questions I need answers to.”

Melina got to her feet herself. “I almost thought as much”, she said, a smile audible in her voice. “Well then, my friend. You lead the way.”

Chapter Text

It was still raining when the Tarnished rode up to Iji's forge. The troll was apparently unfazed by the downpour, though he wasn't reading like he always did. Instead he was hammering away on a piece of metal, using his appropriately large hammer to forge the steel into its new shape.

His mask chimed when he raised his head from his work to greet the visitor. “Ah Tarnished. Good of you to drop by. Please excuse my absence the last time you visited. There had been important matters I had to tend to.”

The Tarnished smiled. “Good to see you're doing well, Iji. You had me worried for a second.” He jumped out of Torrent's saddle and approached the war counselor. When he stood before him he drew his blade. “Would you mind taking a look at my sword?”

Iji sounded genuinely happy when he said: “It would be my pleasure.” The greatsword looked almost ridiculous in his large hand, like it was barely more than a butter knife. As he got to work, the Tarnished looked around. “Have you seen Blaidd lately? I haven't seen him since we parted ways in Caelid and I was hoping he might be here by now.”

It was barely noticeable, but there was a pause in the hammering, before the smith quickly continued. “He visited shortly, to report about your victory. To defeat general Radahn... Truly a remarkable task. You've set the stars back in motion, so that Lady Ranni's fate might move as well. There is truly no parallel to your achievement. Nor to Lady Ranni's acute judgment of character.”

With a bashful look the Tarnished looked away. Getting praised for his tasks was still a novelty to him, so he didn't really know how to react. Instead he cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, I need to talk to her. There are some questions I have...”

“Oh, haven't you heard? Lady Ranni has departed on her journey. Along the dark path of the Empyrean, from Renna's Rise, as she calls it.” Iji continued working on his blade. The Tarnished sighed. “I had hoped I could catch her before she leaves.”

With a deep and rumbling chuckle the troll handed him his blade back. “Well, my friend... Her departure wasn't too long ago. And if you hurry...”

When he put the sword back into its sheath, he raised an eyebrow. “You want me to follow her?”

Due to the mirror mask it was impossible to read the smith's expression. “Lady Ranni long waited for her fate to continue churning. And without you, it would not have been possible. As her war counselor, and moreover, childhood warden, I express my deepest gratitude. You, and only you, were Lady Ranni's true champion.” In a slow and deliberate motion he put his hammer down. “My purpose is nearing its end. I've served Lady Ranni for as long as I can remember... It has been a long and wondrous journey. But my services are no longer of use to her, whereas you...”

The Tarnished frowned. “What are you talking about? You make it sound like you're expecting death.”

Iji shook his head, making his mask jingle. “All I want to say, is that Lady Ranni is in your hands. I pray that you serve her well, unto the very end.” An undeniable grin was audible when he said: “Lady Ranni always had been unwilling to accept help offered. It already surprised me when she took you into her service, though I see now why she might've chosen you.”

He sighed exasperated and started walking towards Torrent. “Just tell me I should follow and protect her.”

“Oh, it is not only a guarding hand she could use. Everyone enjoys company, even the witch of the Dark Moon. And she seems to enjoy yours in particular.”

Before he could stop himself, he croaked: “Really?”

Iji laughed hearty, frightening the birds in the trees around them. “Ah Tarnished. You have a good heart. Never let that kindness fade.” The smith slightly cocked his head. “Now if you still plan on asking Lady Ranni your questions, you better hurry up.”

The Tarnished saddled up. “I see you later, Iji. Maybe I'll find some smithing stones you can put straight into my sword.” He waved goodbye and Torrent started galloping towards the manor. While they approached the building, he leaned forward and said: “Did you hear that, Torrent? She enjoys my company.”

The steed huffed and rolled his eyes, clearly amused over the apparent infatuation of his human companion.

------------------------------------

The three sisters were shrouded in a cold mist, and even though the sun was shining at its zenith, its rays didn't manage to pierce though the fog. It gave the place an ominous atmosphere, like danger was just waiting, hidden underneath the cover of the fog. Of course, the Tarnished knew he had nothing to be afraid of. At least not here.

One of the first things he noticed was the absence of the seal on the tower on the right. That was probably the rise Iji was talking about. Before investigating it though, he made his way towards the left. Curious about the fate of a certain arrogant geezer.

His steps felt unnaturally loud when he climbed the few steps leading up to the tower Seluvis had occupied. The sight greeting him as he entered the rise made him raise an eyebrow. The preceptor kneeled there, his arms limply hanging from his sides and his gaze directed towards the ceiling. The Tarnished approached him slowly and up close he saw that the man was still breathing. Gold tinged drool was dripping from his chin.

The Tarnished looked around and found the empty flask on the ground. He huffed amused and looked back at Seluvis. “I didn't take her for someone who'd enjoy some theatricals for the sake of poetic justice.” Shaking his head in wonder, he threw the empty flask at Seluvis' head and started leaving. “Have fun, pervert.” There was no pity for the old man. Ranni could've painted the walls red with his entrails for all he cared.

He used the way towards the third tower to think again about the questions he wanted to ask Ranni. There were so many, but by now he knew her well enough to predict she wouldn't just answer every question he threw at her. To get some results, he would have to be tactful and careful in the way he'd ask her. Cornering her wouldn't get him anywhere, only making her even more unwilling to relent. Though, maybe he was overthinking things... he never really asked the right questions after all, only ever prying for her personal affairs.

But could he really be blamed for that? Wasn't it only natural he'd be curious about that enigmatic woman that appeared out of nowhere, gifting him a valuable tool? A woman that showed him that there was another path to treat, other than the one the Greater Will had in mind for the Tarnished... And the more he learned about her, the more he became fascinated by her.

His thoughts were a tangled mess when he entered the tower. He looked around, trying to ground himself in the presence. At first glance the room wasn't different from the counterparts in the other towers. Though this one had a ladder leading up to the higher level.

After climbing the ladder, he had to take a staircase that wrapped around the outside of the tower, similar to the one at Ranni's Rise. As he reached the room at the top of the tower, he furrowed his brow and an uneasy feeling was spreading inside of him. A portal was the only thing in the small room, the magic inside the circle twirling and sparking. Beckoning him to touch it and see where it might lead.

The Tarnished had used only one portal so far, and that one had led him to the hideout of the Beast Clergyman Gurranq. The meeting with the imposing beast hadn't been the issue. It was what had awaited him behind the big door, leading out into Caelid. Dragon infested territory. As if that rotten place needed any more threats to be worried about. Only thanks to Torrent's fast steps he had been able to escape that hell.

He straightened his shoulders and sighed as he stepped towards the portal. This was reckless...

When he stepped out of the portal, he immediately drew his sword to be prepared for any attacks. The Tarnished took a look around. He was surrounded by lush greenery, moss and trees sprouting out of a stony ground alongside a shallow river. Above him was nothing but stone, so he figured he must've teleported into a cave. With a relieved exhale he put his blade back into its sheath, glad he wasn't sent right in the middle of a dragon's nest.

Slowly he moved forward, still on guard. Alongside the riverbed were a few seemingly empty stone coffins and it looked like the river had once been larger and more powerful, if the current had been strong enough to move such massive objects. Not far from him was a site of Grace, idly illuminating its surroundings. The Tarnished risked a look into one of the coffins and froze. Gently he picked up the small item that had caught his attention.

A tiny puppet, barely the size of his hand, modeled after Ranni. It looked exactly like her, from head to toe. It even wore the same clothes as her and in a moment of childish excitement he picked the tiny hat off the puppet and giggled. “If this isn't the most adorable thing I've ever seen...” He inspected the features of the doll up close, a tiny blue eye staring right back at him. To his utter surprise, the doll even had the spectral part of Ranni's face.

Still in rapture about his strange find, he walked to the site of Grace and sat down. The Tarnished held the small doll up, absolutely fascinated by how lifelike it was. It captured the likeness of his mistress to the smallest detail. The skin even had that pleasant coolness to it.

“One might assume you grew fond of me by the way we keep on bumping into each other”, the Tarnished joked and in the warm light of Grace he investigated the doll further and shook his head amused. How did this tiny thing end up here? And who made that doll in the first place? Was it one of Seluvis's perverted experiments? The Tarnished scoffed disgusted at the thought of that sleazy bastard.

Carefully he put the hat back on the doll's head and placed it on the ground beside him. “You'll be my new companion, okay? Traveling with a Tarnished isn't as bad as you might think.” He realized that he was talking to a damn doll... Was he slowly losing his mind? Exhaustion lied heavy on his shoulders and he exhaled loudly. The past few days had been strenuous to say the least. Maybe it was just his tired mind screaming for some actual rest and not just a few hours of uncomfortable sleep on rocky ground.

For a moment he just sat there, his new silent companion right beside him. The Tarnished looked at the doll out of the corner of his eyes before picking it up again. What he was about to do was not only incredibly childish and unbecoming of an aspiring Elden Lord, he knew that, if Ranni knew, she'd reprimand him to no end. But he was alone, so who would judge him?

“How's your journey fairing, Lady Ranni?” Gods, he felt like an idiot and yet there was something inside of him rationalizing talking to a doll. As pathetic as it sounded... He missed her. All the mockery of the others that he was fancying her... maybe there was some truth to it. The way she treated him without outright hostility or disgust because of what he was. Or how she managed to tease him with sharp words spoken in her soft voice. Or how she always slightly tilted her head before smiling at him. Or... The Tarnished sighed and shook his head. What was he thinking?!

The doll still in his hand, he let himself fall onto his back and looked up. He really tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in his stomach and his aching heart, as he thought about his mistress. Slowly he held the miniature Ranni up and whispered: “Thou needst not act so shy, my Lady. Even in this form, thy immaculate beauty is only matched by the very stars.” He chuckled at himself. Oh what a pathetic fool he was!

His self deprecation was interrupted by the very voice he was yearning for. “Oh? A dogged fellow, aren't we? Or is it merely thy habit, to talk to dolls?” She sounded irritated. “Fine... Fine. ”

The Tarnished almost dropped the doll onto his face as he jolted up. Was he actually losing his mind? He stared at the little Ranni in his hand, too flabbergasted to formulate a sentence. She looked back at him, a frown on her face.

“Wouldst thou kindly put me down?”, she asked, almost through gritted teeth and he hastily sat the doll back down beside him, not realizing how inappropriate it had been to keep on holding her in his hand. “O-of course.”

“I hadn't expected any soul to recognize me in this disguise”, she said in a sulking tone.

Oh... so she believed that he saw through her rouse and not that he just talked to her out of loneliness... He most certainly wouldn't correct her on that. Though he wondered if she really thought a perfect miniature of herself was truly a good disguise. The Tarnished came to the conclusion that he better kept quiet before he would say anything that risked infuriating her even more.

Ranni continued, her voice back to its composed self: “Now the cat is out of the bag, I cannot allow thee thy freedoms. Perform for me a service, as recompense.”

He frowned. What exactly did he do to demand recompense? Her hostility felt completely unwarranted and for a moment he thought about giving her a piece of his mind. When he looked at her, he saw how she avoided looking at him, one set of her arms crossed, while she wrung the other set of hands. Was she... embarrassed? Glad he wasn't the only one embarrassed by the situation, he drew breath and nodded. “What is my task?”

She seemed pleased with that answer. “Eliminate the Baleful Shadows which prowl these lands.” Then, out of nowhere her voice grew cold. “ The name of Ranni the Witch is already sullied by thee. I will not brook disobedience in this matter.”

The Tarnished stood up. “I.... Of course, my Lady. Please forgive my transgression.” He decided to not argue with her, instead obeying her orders. After all, he more or less invited himself to this part of her journey without her consent. The least he could do was lend her a helping hand.

Ranni didn't answer, so he just cringed inwardly and faced the next problem. “Erm... Do you walk by yourself or should I carry you?”

She sighed exasperated, as if his mere question was straining her nerves. “Tarnished, how shall I match thy pace in this form?”

He wanted to punch himself for the stupid question. It was obvious she was already displeased with the whole situation and he made it even worse with his utter stupidity. The Tarnished bowed down and offered his hand so she could step on it. She weighed almost nothing.

For a moment he didn't know where to put the doll. He couldn't possibly leave her here and holding her like this wouldn't be an option either if they were to run into enemies. After another minute of hesitation he opened the pouch on his hip and rummaged through it, searching for an item he could dispose to make room. Finally he threw away some rejuvenating boluses. There didn't seem to be any risk of running into Death Blight anywhere near.

Carefully he put the doll in the pouch, in a way so Ranni was still able to see what was happening. Her tiny head, including tiny witch's hat poking out of the pouch. It was a sub-optimal solution, but the only one he could come up with. “I hope this doesn't offend you, my Lady.”

The Tarnished waited to be reprimanded, but Ranni gave him a little chuckle. “It doth fill me with great wonder thou art so hesitant all of a sudden. Didst thou not compare mine own beauty with the very stars just a few moments ago?” There was a mischievous grin audible in her voice. “I barely dared to trust mine ears. Hearing thee speak so eloquently... I wonder, art thou Tarnished or didst thou merely miss thy call as a poet?” Apparently she was over her initial embarrassment and back to teasing him... all the while he was more embarrassed than ever before.

The Tarnished felt his face turn red and he wanted to just sink into the ground. He thought of a witty answer, something - anything - to make this situation more bearable. But in the end, he decided to be bold and speak his heart. “Is it a sin to speak the truth?”

The silence that followed was almost too much to bear and when she finally spoke he felt his face grow even hotter. Her voice was surprisingly soft and a smile was audible in it. “Thou'rt truly an odd one, my Tarnished. I ask of thee to center thy focus on the task ahead, though. The Baleful Shadow needs to be slain.”

Before he could embarrass himself more, he decided to finally get moving. His footsteps splashed as he walked through the shallow water of the river, surprised that none of it had seeped through his boots yet.

He stepped into a larger part of the cave, ruins similar to the ones he had seen at the Siofra were scattered all over the chamber. The Tarnished kept his eyes open for any threats as he stepped into the open. He didn't have to search for long, a massive creature hung suspended from the air.

It clicked its mandibles when it saw him, the air around it started to glimmer in the purple hue of gravitational magic. Rocks rose around the creature and the Tarnished sprinted into cover behind some ruins, just before a salve of rocks hit it. When the assault stopped, he launched out of cover and towards the beast. He had fought against one of its kind already, he knew a few hits to the eye sitting center on the forehead would do the trick.

The monster again started to conjure its magic, but the Tarnished was already upon it. Evading the mandibles, that tried to grab and cut him in half, he sank his blade deep into the cosmic blue eye. A loud howl came from the creature. One of its skinny arms swiped at him, trying to hit him away. The Tarnished quickly rolled to his left and evaded the hit, before hitting at the eye again. This time, it was fatal.

With one last howl, the creature went limp and dissolved into ashes. For a moment the Tarnished allowed himself to catch his breath, until he noticed the mud men of Uhl closing in on him. He grimaced and decided that this wasn't a fight worth wasting his energy on, so he started running down the river, ignoring his foes. They were slow, so he had no problem to shake them off.

The cave yet again narrowed to a passage and so he descended deeper down into the earth. Due to the slope, the water around his feet was flowing faster than before, posing a threat to his balance. He heard rustling in the dark and just in time he jumped to the side, before a ginormous ant had the chance to squish him under its weight, as it fell from the ceiling. The Tarnished looked at it with pure disgust visible on his face. “Why do they have to be this big... As if normal sized ants aren't bad enough.”

His sharp blade made quick process with the chitinous shell of the large insect, though he was absolutely not pleased about his sword being covered in ant goop. He risked a look down to his hip, where Ranni still sat in the pouch. She hadn't said a word so far and he wondered what she thought about his fighting skills.

Continuing his way, he ran into a couple more ants. They didn't pose any danger and only made him feel nauseous when they rolled onto their back and curled up dead. After fighting against the big insects, the passage opened up to a big cave again. Similar to the cave of the Siofra, the ceiling wasn't visible and instead it seemed like a clear night's sky full of stars shone above him. A floodgate made it impossible to see what laid ahead.

As he passed through the opening on the left of the gate, he spotted multiple buildings in front of him. Some were already crumbling, but the majority was still intact and reminded him of Nokron in their architecture. Black, smooth stones brought together into imposing structures.

When the Tarnished saw a site of Grace, protected by some crumbling ruins, he immediately headed towards it. He wasn't hurt and as long as Ranni was with him, he couldn't rest for long anyways, but... he didn't want to face those ants again should he die. When he touched the Grace, it lit up brightly. He stepped back from it and faced the city again. “You know this place, Lady Ranni?”

She hummed affirmatively. “The Eternal City of Nokstella. Twin to Nokron. Thy way lieth past this city and its inhabitants. Heed caution, Tarnished. The Nox may only be shadows of their former glory, but they still pose a threat. Thou only needst to follow the river to reach thy goal... Of course, if thou wishest, there lieth a second, far more daunting, route through the city.”

He nodded. “I'll take your warning to heart.” With a heavy sigh he looked ahead. “Well then, let us go, my Lady.”

“Lead the way, my Tarnished”, she responded softly, making his heart beat just that little bit faster. As he started walking alongside the riverbed, he lost himself in thought. My Tarnished... he liked it.

He was painfully aware that he hadn't asked her any of the questions so far. Instead he was somehow yet again swayed to serve her and her cause, without even being sure if it was the right one. Maybe Melina was right. Maybe his judgment was clouded by blind infatuation and Ranni used him to get her way... Though somehow he just couldn't believe that to be the case.

His thoughts were interrupted by a big ant with a person on its back. It was one of those ghostly people he had already encountered in Nokron. The whip of the woman wrapped around his ankle, taking him to the ground. He cursed as he tasted dirt. Before he was back on his feet, the ant the Nox was riding bit deep into his side. Blood was gushing all over as it ripped a big piece of flesh and parts of his intestines out of him. The Tarnished screamed in agony, trying not to faint from the pain.

There wasn't enough room for him to properly use his sword, he could only hit with the hilt of it against the armored head of the insect, but it didn't faze the beast. It stayed upon him, its mandibles closing in on his swordarm and biting it right off. The sword, including the hand still holding on to it, fell to the ground. Desperately he tried to get free from underneath the ant, but his movements were sluggish and the creature was faster than him. It started biting down on his neck. The Tarnished croaked and a loud sound of breaking bones vibrated through his whole body. Almost immediately he went limp.

Darkness.

With erratic breath he jolted up, shuddering and looking at his hands. Two hands. He looked at his side, the gaping wound gone. Grace shone beside him and he calmed himself down. He died. He was back. Business as usual. With a spike of fear shooting up his spine he looked at the pouch on his hip. Ranni wasn't in it anymore. Frantic he jumped to his feet, ready to save her from this horrible ant, when he heard her say: “Sit down, Tarnished. Thou art as pale as a ghost.”

She sat at the site of Grace, in his panic he had overlooked the tiny doll. With a deep sigh of relief he sat back down. “Don't scare me like that... For a moment I thought I'd have to dissect this disgusting beast.” He hesitated when he saw that some of his blood had sullied her white hat, leaving red stains on it. Ashamed he lowered his gaze. “I'm sorry, Lady Ranni. This... This was pitiful, even for a Tarnished.”

“Art thou feeling well?” Concern was audible in her voice and he clenched his teeth. She was thinking of him as a failure, a weakling. “It's nothing.” He stood up and walked towards her to once again offer her his hand to step up to. “We should continue.”

She didn't move. “Wouldst thou not prefer to rest first? I can hardly imagine thou art unfazed by-”

Even though he knew it was rude, he interrupted her with a cold voice. “I am fine. Don't worry about me.” A little softer he added: “I'm a Tarnished. Dying is hardly a novelty for me.”

Ranni looked up at him with an unreadable expression, before she stepped on his hand. He put her back in the pouch and started walking. This time he was far more careful, not losing himself in infatuated thoughts of his mistress. When he spotted the ant and its rider, cold hatred filled him and he unsheathed his sword in a fluid motion. They didn't see him yet and with swift steps he reached them, taking them by surprise.

His blade cut through two of the ant's legs, making it fall down and shaking the Nox out of balance. With a loud thud the woman fell to the ground. The Tarnished plunged his sword without mercy into her back, killing her immediately. The ant tried to turn around and bite into his leg, but he just brought his blade down and cut its head off. Satisfied he looked at his work, before moving on.

The rest of his way down the river was uneventful. He ran into a few Silver Tear Mimics, some sporting impressive lance like stingers, others were sizzling with electricity. Regardless, they were given no mercy. A couple of Nox, some riding ants and charging at him, some without steed and attacking him out of the shadows. It didn't matter, they all experienced his blade and its deadly kiss in the same way.

The Tarnished reached a lift that took him deeper down. Nokstella behind him, he stepped into a smaller cave full of stalactites – or were it stalagmites, he could never remember which was which. To his disdain there were also lots of eggs, probably from the gigantic ants. Another site of Grace beckoned him to take rest, to relax his strained muscles and close his eyes for just a moment. He held back a sigh and just touched it briefly, before moving on. There was no time for rest.

He felt like someone was watching him and when he looked down, he saw Ranni frowning up at him. With a tired smile he asked: “Is something the matter?”

She didn't answer for a moment, but then she carefully said: “Thou shouldst rest, Tarnished.”

The smile froze on his lips and he tensed up. She thought of him as weak after his pitiful display earlier. How could she not? Being mauled by a big insect, how pathetic! He clenched his fists and marched forward. “I'm fine”, he grumbled stoically and he heard her mumble: “Thou claimest...”

For the first time he decided to ignore her and just continued his path down the river. He entered a dark corridor and saw some reptilian creatures ahead. They looked rather adorable, with their big eyes and little snouts. The Tarnished almost felt bad when his blade cut through the first one. The creature screeched in pain and his bad conscious just intensified.

At least until one of the reptiles jumped up, spewing a cloud of black smoke all over him. The Tarnished couldn't see or breathe for a moment, hastily stepping back out of the area. But even when he left the smoke, he couldn't breathe. He felt like something was crawling under his skin, his whole body convulsing and twitching. Desperately he clawed at his throat, not even able to scream as the pain became too much to bare. Roots sprouted out of his abdomen, piercing through his skin and organs. He gurgled blood as one last root pierced through his body, lifting him off the ground. His last moments were spent in pure agony, before his brain thankfully gave out.

Darkness.

Coughing and shaking he awoke back at the site of Grace, his body still feeling numb. So that... that was Death Blight. The Tarnished ran a hand over his face, before he looked at Ranni, who again sat on the ground beside him. He didn't dare to meet her gaze as he stood up on shaky legs.

“Sit”, she said, her usually measured voice harsh.

“My Lady, I'm....” He tried to assure her he was fine, but she wouldn't have him speak. “Tarnished, this was not a request. I command thee to sit!” After a moment of hesitation he sat back down and begrudgingly stared at the ground. He was filled with anger for himself.

The silence between them was tense and neither of them seemed to want to disrupt it. Finally, Ranni raised her voice: “Thou needst to take better care of thyself. It may be the Tarnished's nature to face death, but even thou canst not just walk on after... after such horrible agony.” It was subtle, but she sounded distressed. With a frown he looked at her. “You don't need to worry about me. I'm used to the pain by now.”

She heaved a frustrated sigh and shook her head. “Thou truly art dogged.” Like so often she folded her hands. “Dost thou believe I would think less of thee, if thou wouldst take a rest?”

The Tarnished still didn't dare to look her in the eyes. “It must be a disgrace to have me in your service and seeing me perform this poorly.”

Ranni clicked her tongue. “Thou didst serve me well. And I will not have thee claim otherwise...” She paused. “I never asked thee for thy name.”

He raised his eyebrows and before he could stop himself he mumbled: “Only took you a few days.” His self-hatred multiplied and he wanted to punch himself for his brash words. To his surprise she half seriously said: “Well, I told thee it hath been a while since I welcomed a newcomer into my service. Some formalities must have slipped my mind.”

The Tarnished laughed and she quietly joined in. “Oh I refuse to believe anything would escape from your memory.”

“So, Tarnished. Thy name?”

He shook his head. “I don't have one. I'm sure I once had one... But that was in another life. The person I was is long dead and it wouldn't feel right to use his name.”

“Wouldst thou not like a name? Other than just being called Tarnished?”

The Tarnished leaned back on his arms. “You are one of the few people not using it in a condescending way. I'm fine with you calling me Tarnished.”

“It doth strike me as rather tiresome. I much rather call thee by a proper name.” Her voice was soft. “Thou hast exceeded a many of thy kind. Even those adorning a name. Calling thee merely Tarnished would be a disservice to thine accomplishments.”

He frowned slightly, staring at his hands. Her words seemed sincere and a peculiar warmth spread in his stomach. The Tarnished wanted to groan when he felt himself blush. Of course Ranni didn't comment on it, though he saw the smirk on her face out of the corner of his eyes. Desperately trying to divert her attention from his red face, he mumbled: “I can't think of any name. There are hundreds, but I can't decide.” The Tarnished looked at her. “You pick one.”

“Art thou sure?”, she sounded hesitant and he nodded. “You brought it up. Now you have to decide. I trust you to not give me some ridiculous name.”

“Oh, tempt me not.” She smiled mischievously, before she put a finger on her lips in thought. He couldn't help himself but think how cute she looked lost in thought like that. Then she nodded and said: “Very well then.“ Almost solemnly Ranni announced: “I name thee Constantine.”

She looked at him, in anticipation for his reaction. He tilted his head. “Constantine... I like it. Does it have a meaning?”

Again she smiled mischievously. “Steadfast. Fitting, dost thou not think?”

He raised an eyebrow. “This is another way of telling me I'm stubborn, isn't it.” He chuckled. “Fine. I'm going to wear that name with pride.” Constantine took a deep breath and smiled. Despite his disregard for everyone just calling him Tarnished, he now felt a little invigorated. He had a name. Given to him by the one person he cared about most.

It gave him goosebumps and he again felt his heart quicken. He was confused about his feelings, not really sure what to think about it. Ranni was unobtainable, especially for someone of no renown like himself, and he knew that. So why... why was his foolish heart slowly falling for her?

Ranni disrupted his thoughts. “Pray tell, dost thou remember anything about thy life before reawakening?”

He huffed almost bitterly. ”I have no past to call my own. I'm just a lowly Tarnished, wandering the Lands Between... Besides a few snippets and vague feelings, I can't remember anything. Whatever man I once was, he's lost.”

“No matter who thou'st been once...”, there was a slight pause before she continued. “Thou art kind, compassionate and virtuous now... all traits rare to find these days.”

“Thank you”, he said, blushing again. She snorted amused. “Oh, twas not a compliment. These lands have a tendency to snuff out any kindness in a man's heart. Rather I was surprised thou'st been able to hold on to it for this long.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle. “I reserve these facets of myself for the people deserving of it.”

Ranni raised an eyebrow and with a slight smile she cocked her head, obviously wanting to ask a question but then instead just shook her head. For a moment, silence was taking hold again, though this time it wasn't tense or unpleasant. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and hesitant. “Wouldst thou like to know about my past?” He just nodded, afraid she might change her mind any moment.

“I was once an Empyrean. Of the demigods, only I, Miquella, and Malenia could claim that title. Each of us was chosen by our own Two Fingers, as a candidate to succeed Queen Marika, to become the new god of the coming age. Which is when I received Blaidd. In the form of a vassal tailored for an Empyrean.” A little malicious smile appeared on her spectral face. “But I would not acquiesce to the Two Fingers. I stole the Rune of Death, slew mine own Empyrean flesh, casting it away. I would not be controlled by that thing. The Two Fingers and I have been cursing each other ever since... And the Baleful Shadows... are their assassins.”

Constantine listened to her, captivated and eager to learn more about her. So she had stolen the Rune of Death... something Rogier had told him a while ago came to his mind and he frowned. “Wasn't Godwyn also killed by the Rune of Death? That... Was that your doing?”

She hummed and laid the upper set of hands together at their fingertips. “It hath been part of my plot. Godwyn... he was a necessary victim. Killing a demigod by normal means is impossible. Only Destined Death harbors the power to put a true end to the life of my kind. 'Twas not mine intention to kill myself that night. For my body to die, and my mind to remain... another demigod's soul had to perish.”

“That body on top of the tower in Liurnia... Is that yours?” He wanted to confirm his discovery. After all, there had been no certainty to the identity of the corpse.

“I see thou hast made use of my gift to thee”, she answered, sounding pleased. “I hope the Cursemark may help thee in thine endeavors.”

Confused, Constantine looked at her. “The what?”

Ranni didn't react for a moment, before she looked at him in disbelieve. “Thou art jesting... Didst thou not see the Cursemark rendering the flesh?”

“Well, I saw it but really didn't feel like pulling off the skin from a corpse.” Defensively he scoffed. “Who would do that in the first place? And what am I even supposed to do with that Cursemark?”

She blinked twice in quick succession – something he noticed she always did when she was surprised by something he said – before she started chuckling. “I just... What didst thou even do atop the Sacred Tower if not harvest the Cursemark? Enjoy the view?”

“You have to admit, the view is breathtaking.” He shrugged his shoulders and she shook her head. “Tarnished... Constantine. Either thou art the most kindhearted or most clueless man in the Lands Between. Or thou'rt playing a trick on me to lead me astray and blindside me... I can not decide which would be worse.”

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “I thought I've proven my loyalty to you more than once. And yet you still doubt me, my Lady?” Her words stung a little. So she thought him as some snake that was only out to betray her at the best opportunity?

Ranni seemed surprised by those words and it took her a few seconds to find the words to respond. “I... Forgive my distrust. Thou art undeserving of it.” She laughed quietly, though there was no mirth in it. “Years full of betrayal have me filled with doubt for the sincerity of anyone.”

Constantine looked at her and felt bad for her. She seemed so... lonely in this moment. If she wouldn't be so tiny in this form, he might've put a reaffirming hand on her shoulder, but with things as they were he instead smiled warmly at her. “Believe me, Lady Ranni. I will not betray you. That is not who I am or I ever plan to be.”

“I am happy to know you as my ally, Constantine”, she answered sincerely. He didn't see how she again starting wringing the lower set of her hands in hopes of distracting herself from the embarrassment she felt.

They were silent for a moment. He tried to digest the information he had gained and the implications of it. Constantine mumbled, lost in thought: “The Night of the Black Knives... The Shattering happened due to what unfolded that night.”

“Queen Marika hath always been master in weaving things in such ways to divert all fault from herself. Oh, who would dare judge a grieving mother?” Ranni's voice was filled with contempt. “Tale is she shattered the Elden Ring out of blind grief... But I know better. The Queen was intertwined in her own little scheme against the Greater Will, latching on to the golden opportunity handed to her by me.” She scoffed. “Because that is all she is good at. Taking.”

It was obvious she held a grudge against Marika and he surmised it was due to the fact that the Queen basically stole Radagon, Ranni's father, away from Queen Rennala. The Queen of the Full Moon had lost her sanity due to the grieve of losing her husband... and her beloved daughter. Believing her for dead, killed in the Night of the Black Knives. And for the last years she had tried to rebirth her dear child with the Rune of Rebirth, only bringing weak faulty creatures into life.

In an effort to change the subject and keep her talking, he asked: “If Blaidd was given to you by the Two Fingers, shouldn't he be attacking you to prevent you from reaching your goal?”

“Even when I turned my back upon the Two Fingers, Blaidd remained my loyal ally.” She huffed in amusement. “Heh. Though he was created a vassal for an Empyrean, he was a colossal failure, on the parts of the Two Fingers.” Her voice grew soft and she lowered her gaze. “Blaidd, and Iji both... art willing to give too much to me. Yet they both understand. What lieth beyond the dark path... That I must betray everything, and rid the world of what came before.” Her features lit up a little and she smiled at him. “Ah, should I add thee to the list? Another one, kind of heart. As kind of heart as they.”

His heart jumped in his chest and he felt himself blush. So she did care for him. “Lady Ranni...”

She saw his reaction and hastily avoided his eyes. It was clear she was annoyed with herself. “Ach, this form hath loosened my tongue. I've let slip too much. Forget what thou'st heard. Forget.”

“I like this side of you.” He gave her a lopsided smile.

“Constantine?”

“Yes, Lady Ranni?”

“Don't strain thy luck.” There was amusement in her voice, so he knew he wasn't in trouble.

Being absorbed in their conversation, he hadn't noticed how much time had passed. It still had been a relatively short break, but he felt better nonetheless. With renewed vigor he got to his feet and stretched thoroughly. When he bent down to offer her his hand, he tenderly said: “My Lady... Thank you. For having patience with a dogged Tarnished.” For some reason he had the impression of understanding her better now. And exactly that feeling left him reassured in his decision to help her fulfill her plan.

She just huffed amused and gave him a curt bow of her head. He wondered how she could still emit such dignity and pride, even though she was barely the size of his hand. He stopped himself before he would start enthusing about her again. With her safely sitting back in the pouch, he retreat the way to the reptilians.

This time, he wasn't hesitant with killing them. Evading the clouds of Death Blight, he eliminated all of them, leaving nothing but corpses behind. He poked one of them with the tip of his sword. “They are looking so adorable with their big eyes... It's almost funny how cruel the fate is they bring.”

“Thou art mistaken. What thou presume to be eyes, are glans.” Ranni corrected him, apparently in a mood for talking. “They produce the fatal mist in them. Their eyes lie beneath the glans.”

Constantine looked closely and indeed saw the relatively small eyes of the creature. He huffed slightly fascinated, before continuing his way. “At least they are not oversized insects.” As he kept on walking, a distinct smell assaulted his nose and a bad feeling crept up his guts. The sickly sweet smell of Scarlet Rot lied heavy in the air. He got familiar with the smell during his time in Caelid, when he had marched through the Aeonian swamp in search of the Golden Needle for Millicent. He wondered, how she was fairing and if she had found what she had been looking for.

“Be on guard... A shadow is close...” Ranni's voice was shushed and she sounded tense.

He steadied his grip on his sword, as he stepped out of the tunnel into a cave, marked with the pocks of Scarlet Rot. A red mist lied in the air, obscuring his vision. In the middle of the cave grew a tree, long dead and deprived of any leaves. Underneath that tree a phantom started to materialize and when it rose to full height, Constantine hesitated.

The shadow looked like Blaidd, it even wore the same armor as his friend. Sensing his hesitation, Ranni said: “Don't let thyself be fooled. This creature is not Blaidd. The Two Fingers modeled it after his appearance... Another way they seek to torture me.” Her voice was shaking slighty. “Constantine, I ask of thee, rid the Lands Between of this bastardization of our dear friend.”

Hearing her this distressed caused rage to flare up in his chest. Determined he approached the shadow, blade ready. While he was getting ready to fight, Ranni raised her voice towards the phantom. “O Shadow, thou'rt the last. Tell the Two Fingers, that Ranni the witch cometh, to rend thy flesh. With a fateful wound, ne'er to heal.”

And then their swords clashed. The greatsword of the Shadow burned with the black flames of death and Constantine felt the hatred inside of him manifest further. This fiend was out to put a final end to his mistress, to wipe out her soul. His blood boiling, he headbutted the snout of the phantom, sending it tumbling backwards.

Constantine slashed for the throat of the wolf, but it jumped to the side. A clawed hand slashed for his arm, but his armor prevented any serious damage. The scraping sound when the claws hit the metal sent a shiver down his spine. Before the Shadow could retreat again, he brought his blade down and managed to cut off a hand. Growling it stumbled, but then it slashed for the his abdomen with its sword... It was trying to hit Ranni!

With a quick motion he parried the hit, leaving his enemy open for a follow-up attack. He was too slow to land a fatal blow, but he managed to leave a gaping wound across its chest. Again it bent down to lunge at him and Constantine fell onto his back as it charged into him. He had to abandon his sword to keep the jaws of the Shadow from closing in on his neck. With bulging muscles he slowly pushed the creature away. It was incredibly strong!

When he finally had enough room, he pushed the phantom with a sound of exertion off of him. As fast as his armor let him he got to is feet, grabbing his sword. With one swift motion he decapitated the Shadow and it fell to the ground, before slowly dissolving into nothing.

Constantine was out of breath, his chest heaving heavy as the adrenaline of the battle still coursed in his blood. Only slowly did he relax his tense shoulders.

“Beautifully fought.” Ranni's soothing voice pulled him out of his frenzy. “My thanks. 'Twas more of a challenge than I envisioned. Now I can finally stand before them.” She hesitated. “This is farewell, my dear.”

He looked down at her. “What? Let me help you! You don't have to face this by yourself.”

She chuckled quietly. “I am afraid I do. Tis my battle and mine alone.”

Constantine didn't want her to leave and get herself into danger. He was her sword, was he not? “But...”

“Tell Blaidd and Iji... I love them.” Her voice faded and in almost a panic he grabbed the doll and held it in front of him. He didn't care about how it might be inappropriate. It was motionless and limp in his hand. For a while he just stood there, unsure of what to do... She obviously didn't want him on this final stretch of her way...

He raised his eyes from the lifeless doll in his hand. There was a way to go further... With a small sigh he turned around, going back the way he came. Before he could do anything else, he had a promise to uphold.

When he reached the Site of Grace by the ruins Melina already awaited him. Her expression was solemn and before he could say anything, she raised her voice: “Follow her.”

Surprised he frowned. “I... I thought you wanted-”

“I can wait a little longer.” Melina smiled at him. “Don't let me be the reason for keeping you from her, Tarnished.”

“I have a name now,” was his simple answer and intrigued she raised an eyebrow. “How do I call you, then?”

“You may call me Constantine from now on”, he said, stepping closer to her. With an earnest grin he put a hand on her shoulder. “And I promised I'd bring you to the foot of the Erdtree. No more delays. Let us find out what Leyndell holds for us.” He was determined, a newfound confidence glimmering in his eyes. Melina just nodded and bowed ever so slightly. “Then let us depart on this last part of our journey together... Constantine.”

Chapter Text

The fallen golden leaves of the Erdtree rustled over the cobblestone streets, as a warm breeze caressed over the capital. A city once bustling with life was now lying there like the rotting carcass of an animal. Only a few souls remained roaming the streets. Unwilling to let go of what once was.

The atmosphere in Leyndell was sad and heavy. Constantine couldn't help but occasionally shudder when he thought about what had transpired here. How many lives were lost in the war all around the city walls. Though true death would never be found, even for those longing for an end. With the Rune of Death locked away, people would just come back. Over and over again, until their minds whittled down into nothingness.

And yet, despite destruction awaiting behind every corner, the capital still had an eerie beauty to it. Telling about days of plenty. Where faith had been strong and the Greater Will had been merciful to its subjects. Where the eternal queen had still to lose her faith and betray the God she was serving.

Constantine pulled his blade out of the chest of one of the city guards. For hours now he was already roaming the streets, trying to find a way to the foot of the Erdtree. To face Marika and claim the throne. He was still in disbelieve that his journey was almost at its end, though he still had no clue what would happen if he finally obtained the title of Elden Lord.

Melina had parted ways with him once they set foot in the city. This close to the Erdtree, she was apparently finally able to move on her own will. Not dependent on a Tarnished anymore, off to find the answers she had searched for. She had left the ability to turn his obtained Runes into strength. He would miss their little ritual whenever he beat an especially large enemy and immediately made the strength of the Runes his own.

He reached a dead-end, his way ahead blocked by a massive gate. Frustrated he looked around... There was nowhere for him to go anymore. How was he supposed to reach the tree? Ahead of him were only the gate, a way down to the cemetery and... the giant wing of the dragon that seemingly was part of the city. The behemoth was impaled on a lance, the corpse draped over part of Leyndell.

Seeing there was no other way, he started climbing up the wing. It was surprisingly sturdy and almost felt like stone, not like flesh. Constantine continued climbing, until he reached a wall he could jump onto. A lonely guard was awaiting him, though he managed to catch him by surprise and kick him down the wall. With the loud clatter of metal his opponent hit the ground deep below.

From up here he had a pretty good view of the city. The golden shingles of the rooftops reflecting both the light of the sun and the Erdtree. He wondered how the streets had looked filled with life. It probably had been a sight to behold, seeing the alleys buzzing with people. Now all that was left was dust and the stench of corpses.

As he continued on, he found himself right above the main gate to the palace at the top of Leyndell. He encountered one of the big gargoyles wielding those imposing twin-blades. He sneaked past it, certainly not looking for a fight on the small platform.

After taking a quick look around, he decided to climb up the roots of the Erdtree growing over the platform. They lead him further up, closer to the foot of the big tree and his goal. He was careful with his steps, the danger of falling off the roots present at all time.

Finally he reached a balcony he could jump onto, happy to have solid ground under his feet again. He stepped into a hall with a beautifully tiled floor, when a golden spirit started to materialized before him. An imposing figure approached him, a massive ax in its hands. Constantine recognized the man from a few portraits at the Roundtable Hold. Godfrey, the first consort to Marika. The first Elden Lord. It was just a spirit, but it still emitted undeniable strength.

He drew his sword and got ready. Spirit or not, he wouldn't underestimate his opponent. And as they started fighting, he was glad he was this cautious. Stone cracked under the immense force of Godfrey's attacks and more than once the Tarnished saw himself at the receiving end of some rather painful strikes. Though in the end, he would stand victorious, the spirit dissolving into nothingness. And besides the distant sound of trumpets of the envoys, there was silence returning to the hall.

Constantine didn't rest long at the Site of Grace, his curiosity far to pressing. He was so close to his goal, the excitement made him antsy. Though with each step he took, his uncertainty grew as well. Pushing that feeling aside for now, he climbed up another root to reach a balcony overlooking the hall he had fought Godfrey in.

The golden light of the Erdtree was almost unbearable this close to its foot. He frowned when he saw the shriveled up corpses of Fingerreaders lining the walkway. What had happened here? Had they all been murdered?

From the walkway he stepped into another building, which appeared to be some kind of bedchamber. This close to the Erdtree, he figured it was probably the private chambers of Queen Marika. Constantine didn't waste much time in the room, though he still wondered how anyone could find rest with the amount of golden light shining in from all directions.

Finally, out of the bedchamber, he took one last set of stairs to stand in front of the big tree. The yard before it was relatively empty, only a few thrones stood there. Of course, like everything this close to it, they were dwarfed by the Erdtree. Constantine was curious, who those thrones belonged to. One of them, the largest one facing the others, was probably the throne of the Elden Lord.

Behind her throne was an opening in the bark of the tree, steps leading up inside of it. So the Erdtree was hollowed out? How didn't it die yet?

Golden leaved crunched underneath his boots, as he stepped forward. Before he was even able to reach the thrones, a voice called out: “Graceless Tarnished. What is thy business with these thrones?” Constantine knew immediately who was talking and drew his sword.

With tense muscles he looked towards the stairs, where a man was descending towards him. The horns and fur of the omen curse marked him, a tail swaying behind him. He had faced the Omen once already, when he entered Stormveil Castle. The battle had been brutal, especially since Constantine had been rather inexperienced back then, still having to find into his role as Tarnished.

Margit took the last step, then looked at the thrones before him with disdain on his face. “Ahh... Godrick the Golden. The twin prodigies, Miquella and Malenia. General Radahn. Praetor Rykard. Lunar Princess Ranni. Willful traitors, all!” He slammed his staff into the ground. “Thy kind are all of a piece.” With a slow and menacing motion he changed his grip on it, then ripping it out of the ground. “Pillagers. Emboldened by the flame of ambition.”

The stone of the staff started to crack, before it crumbled away and revealed a black blade underneath it. It shimmered in different colors as the light of the Erdtree hit it, reminding Constantine of spilled oil. A beautiful weapon.

“Have it written upon thy meager grave. Felled by King Morgott! Last of all kings.” The Omen glared at him and the Tarnished scoffed. “Well then, King Morgott. Remember the name of Constantine. The next Elden Lord.”

“Preposterous. One like thou wilt ne'er become Elden Lord. I will see to that.” Morgott stormed towards him, his steps more nimble than his massive frame would make believe. Constantine parried his first hit, pushing him back and keeping the pressure up by following up with fast slashes of his sword. “You know, that way of talking is so fucking annoying when it's not her.”

Morgott jumped to the side, twirling fast and conjuring a big hammer of holy energy to pulverize him. “Thou art naught but a pesky fly. I will snuff thy flame out, so thou wilt not insult the Erdtree any longer with thy pathetic presence!” Constantine managed to evade the attack again and hit for the ankles of the Omen, but he jumped up and avoided the hit. Mid air he conjured blades of holy energy and threw them at the Tarnished. Two missed, the third left a deep wound on his thigh. “Shit”, he cursed.

“Cease thy profanities”, Morgott growled and swung the hammer again, sending him tumbling across the yard. For a moment Constantine's whole world was spinning wildly and he was unable to get up. His chest was one big pain and he knew that a few of his ribs were probably broken.

He already anticipated his untimely end, when a slender hand pressed onto his chest. Warmth seeped through his armor and his ribs healed quickly. His vision cleared and he saw Melina, face as indifferent as always, kneeling over him. “Get up, Constantine. This is not the time to rest.”

While rolling his eyes, he got to his feet. “You don't say...” He picked his blade up. “Thank you for saving my ass, but I suggest you get back into cover.”

Melina scoffed and sported an amused smirk. “Oh please, Constantine. Finally I'm able to fight myself.” Just now did he see the curved dagger in her hand. It reminded him a little of the weapons used by the Black Knife Assassins, with its curved hilt and relatively short blade. Though it was highly polished silver steel with golden flames cloaking it, not black with also black flames. “I will not just watch you getting flung around.” In a fluid motion she loosened the strap holding her cloak together, letting it fall to the ground.

Constantine couldn't help, but smile himself. “Ah, come on. It wasn't that bad.”

She just raised an eyebrow, though the barely concealed smile on her lips showed how she was just teasing him. Their little moment was disrupted by Morgott, who descended on them. They both rolled to the side, evading the hammer threatening to crush them.

Morgott decided to go after Constantine, striking at him with unrelenting power. The Tarnished either parried or evaded the attacks, though it became increasingly difficult to keep up with the pace of the Omen. That was, until an arc of golden flames hit the Omen in the back, making him tumble and lose focus.

Immediately the Tarnished used the resulting opening to plunge his sword into the abdomen of his opponent. Blood gushed to the ground and Morgott quickly retreated, heaving and moaning in pain. He leaned onto his blade, throwing up what looked like brackish water. Then, with a howl of anger and anguish, he straightened up again. With horror he looked at his hands. “The thrones... stained by my curse. Such shame I cannot bear. Thy part in this shall not be forgiven!”

With speed and strength outmatching even what he had shown before, he stormed towards Constantine. Strike upon strike, both with his blade and the holy weapons he conjured, he pushed him further back. Each time he tried to counter the attacks, the Omen just evaded with fluid motions and impressive jumps.

Melina managed to hit him a few times, though she was just as nimble as the king and matched his pace. Constantine was impressed by her prowess with the blade. He had thought her to be maybe a caster, but it was apparent she was more than capable with the sword. Her movements surprisingly also reminded him of the Black Knife Assassins and he wondered if she actually stood in affiliation with the women in black.

As she was doing a rather impressive spin mid air, Morgott managed to hit her hard. With one big hand he grabbed her calf, then in an effortless looking motion he flung her towards Constantine. The Tarnished dropped his sword to catch the woman and ease the impact. It knocked the air out of her lungs nonetheless and he tumbled a few steps back from the force behind the throw. “Are you alright, Melina?”, he gasped and she nodded.

Before they had any time to recover, the Omen was already back upon them. Without his sword, Constantine could only try to roll to the side, barely avoiding the attacks. He saw Melina in his peripheral vision, searching for an opening in the king's defense. Her steps were a lot more careful and slow now.

He dodged another attack by jumping backwards, when he felt Melina's hand on his shoulder. “We have to attack from above. Get ready”, she whispered into his ear, before the Omen drove them apart with a swing of his hammer. Constantine didn't know exactly what she wanted him to do... but he surely would find out quick enough.

“Is that all the next Elden Lord has to offer? Cowering and scattering, like a bug”, Morgott scoffed as he threw daggers of holy magic towards him. “Thy filthy hands will never lay upon the crown, Tarnished.”

“My hands are perfectly clean”, he grumbled while he avoided getting pierced by the blades. In a bold decision he choose to bolt forward, letting himself fall to the ground underneath another strike of Morgott's blade. With full force he kicked against the knee of the Omen, which send him to the ground.

“Constantine!” Melina called out and when he turned, he saw her sprinting towards him. Was she going to tackle him? No... Hastily he got to his feet, all the while the king still tried to regain his balance. The Tarnished folded his hands in front his hip for Melina and when she reached him she used them as a step. With a grunt of pain and exhaustion he boosted her, so her jump was much higher than it would've been naturally.

In a perfect arc she flipped over the Omen's head, to land on his back. “You dare!”, he growled, but Melina grabbed his horns and forced his head back to expose his throat. With unflinching determination she cut it with her blade.

Gurgling on his own blood, Morgott fell to the ground. He twitched and obviously fought, but it was for naught in the end. The blood pouring out of the wound started to pool around his head. The last thing the Omen King saw, before death took hold of him, was the lovely golden glow of the Erdtree.

Constantine leaned forward on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Thank you for your help, Melina. I don't think I would've been able to beat him by myself. Where did you learn to fight like this?” He looked at Melina, who was breathing heavy herself. “I... I cannot recall.”

He huffed. “Oh I know that feeling.” With a quiet noise of exhaustion he straightened up, his muscles strained and his body hurting all over. Despite his tired bones, he still faced the Erdtree. So this was it... the final steps before he would claim the title of Elden Lord. The uncertainty of what would happen next left him anxious, but he also knew that there was no other way to find out than to just go ahead.

With determination in his steps he pushed onward, past the throne and towards the opening in the Erdtree. Before going up the stairs, he turned towards Melina once more. She had this strange look on her face he couldn't quite interpret. He frowned. “What...”

“See for yourself”, she merely answered and his frown deepened. He took the stairs up, inside the big tree. At the end of the small corridor he found a door, grown over with thorns. He tried to remove them, both with his sword in his hands, though by doing the latter he received some nasty cuts to his hands. When the realization of the situation hit him, he kicked against the thorns in frustration. “Fuck!”

Constantine ran his hands over his face and leaving bloody marks on his skin, at a loss on what to do next. He couldn't enter the Erdtree, so he wasn't able to reach the Elden Ring. His goal became unreachable again all of a sudden. What was he supposed to do? For a moment he felt the overwhelming urge to just lay down and give up. He was so tired...

His steps were listless, when he returned to Melina. Now he understood the look on her face... It was pity. “You knew about this...”

She sighed. “I discovered it not too long ago. Together with my purpose...” Constantine looked at her with tired eyes, waiting for her to continue. “The thorns preventing you from entering the Erdtree are impenetrable. A husk of the the Erdtree's being; that spurns all that exists without. The only way to stand before the Elden Ring... and become the Elden Lord... is to pass the thorns.”

He couldn't hold back the bitter huff escaping him. “That much is obvious.”

Melina didn't react to his words. Instead she calmly continued: “My purpose serves to aid in that very act.” A small smile crossed her features. “So I'd like you to undertake a new journey, with me. To the flame of ruin, far above the clouds, upon the snowy mountaintops of the giants. Then I can set the Erdtree aflame. And guide you. Down the path to becoming Elden Lord.”

In utter disbelieve he stared at her. She wanted to do what?! “You... you want to burn down the Erdtree? How...”

“That is something I'll explain to you once we are at our destination. Worry not, Constantine. Finally I know exactly what my purpose for these lands is.” Her eye sparked. “So what do you say, old friend? Will you join me on this new journey?”

The determination of her to help him reach his goal moved him. Of course, she herself wanted to make a change for the Lands Between possible, so she did what she could to make it possible. But she also put a lot of faith into him and his capabilities. The Tarnished smiled softly and bowed his head. “It would be my pleasure.”

Chapter Text

The little campfire was burning idly and Melina stared into the flickering flames, lost in her own thoughts. They managed to travel beyond the Grand Lift of Rold, up to the snowy mountaintops. Before continuing on, Constantine had decided to set up camp for the night. And while she sympathized with his exhaustion, she couldn't help but feel a little impatient.

Now they were sitting together at a small campfire he had built close to the site of Grace. Like every time he had cooked something for the two of them. A simple stew with some root vegetables and some meat.

“You are getting good at this”, Melina said while eating and he smirked. “Why thank you. And that despite you always refusing to eat. I almost feel bad for having to convince you every time.”

“I like to call to memory the first meal you offered me. It almost felt like you were trying to poison me”, she answered with a raised spoon and eyebrow. “You improved alone by reducing the amount of salt you use.”

“It was pretty bad...”, he had to admit, shoveling a spoon into his mouth. “I wonder why I put that much salt in the stew...”

“Maybe because you were distracted by thoughts of a certain demigod?” Melina didn't even try to hide her smirk and he rolled his eyes. However, he didn't deny her notion either, which made her frown. “You are not going to deny it?”

“So we should reach the forge of the giants tomorrow. Will you finally tell me how you plan on setting the Erdtree ablaze?”, he skipped over her question, which only made her snicker. At least he was no longer trying to live in denial of the obvious. Looking at him, she couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic. How much he had changed those past weeks. Though despite everything, his kindness never faded.

Maybe she was feeling this melancholic, because she knew what awaited her at the end of this stretch of their journey? She put down the empty bowl in her hands. “You will find out soon enough, Constantine. Do not trouble yourself with this matter, I will take care of it.”

He frowned slightly, clearly dissatisfied with her answer, before he just shook his head and sighed quietly. “I will trust you on this.”

The sound of sluggish steps in the snow made them both divert their attention from the conversation to the source of the sound. A figure was approaching their campsite, dressed in armor that didn't seem to quite match. Heavy plate bracers and greaves, but only lightly armored chest. A strange hat sat atop his head, the brim covering his face but was also littered with openings for him to see through.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw how Constantine put a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to strike at any moment. The man approaching them didn't seem to care about it, instead he just came closer. “Might a weary traveler join you for some rest?” Just now did Melina notice the empty sheath on the man's hip. He was apparently unarmed... strange.

Constantine relaxed his defensive posture a little and nodded. “Of course.” He gestured for the stranger to sit. As he sat down, she noticed how strange his movements were. Stiff and almost a little uncoordinated... but maybe that was due to exhaustion.

“Finally, we meet. The Tarnished, who would be Lord.” The man spoke in a monotonous singsong way, sounding both soft spoken and bored at the same time. Constantine eyed him warily. “Do I know you?”

“For this vessel, I don't know. It matters not, because he is dead. As for me, you can call me Shabriri.” He swayed like a tree in a stormy wind. Melina immediately drew her blade, putting at the strangers throat. Confused, Constantine looked at her. “Do you know him?”

“Don't believe a single word this snake is telling you”, she hissed. “He is an agent of frenzy.”

Unimpressed, Shabriri pushed the blade from his throat. “There is no need for hostility, I merely wish to speak to the soon to be Lord. You need not to intervene in this conversation, maiden. Especially since you refuse to tell him the whole truth.”

The eyes of the Tarnished darted between the man and Melina, before he gestured for him to speak. Shabriri spoke again: “You are about to sacrifice something precious. The life of a fair maiden, that you would toss into the fiery flames of the forge. Only so that you may be Lord. What a horrible thing to ponder.”

Taken aback Constantine scoffed. “What are you talking about? Who am I supposed...” He stopped mid sentence as a horrible realization hit him. “Melina...?” She closed her eye and wanted to groan. His gaze was set on her, accusation and doubt in it. It was precisely what she had tried to avoid, hence why she didn't tell him about what awaited them at the forge of the giants.

“Ah, she didn't tell you? Oh what a precious thing she is, trying to protect you from the horrible reality of the situation”, Shabriri chuckled, still sounding void of any and all emotion. “Your ascendancy requires her sacrifice, whether she wishes it or not. But how would the Lord, crowned so, be looked upon?”

“I-I didn't know... If I'd known that was her plan...” Constantine directed his words at her. “Why didn't you tell me? Why deceive me like this?”

A soft smile. “Because I know you, my friend. And I knew you would never allow me to fulfill my purpose.”

Of course, that stubborn Tarnished wouldn't have her answer. “This can't happen, there must be another way!”

“Fret not, there might be just that”, Shabriri cooed. “Chosen Tarnished and would-be Lord, dare to tread the path of true rigor. Spare the poor girl, and singe your own flesh in her stead. If you are prepared to show resolve, and attain Lordship through righteous hardship, then heed the words of I, Shabriri.” A creepy smile spread across the lined features of the man. “Descent into the depth, far below the Erdtree Capital. Seek audience with the Three Fingers, and the flame of frenzy. If you inherit the flame of frenzy, your flesh will serve as kindling, and the girl can be spared.”

Melina yet again pressed her blade against the throat of the man. “Don't you dare...”

“Melina!”, Constantine shouted, and in a surprisingly rough motion he took the blade from her. Brown eyes full of accusation, he threw it in front of her. “Leave him be. He did nothing wrong, just sharing a truth you decided to hide from me.”

She straightened her shoulders, looking into his eyes with ice-cold determination. “There is something I'd like to say. My purpose was given to me by my mother. But now, I act of my own volition. I have set my heart upon the world that I would have. Regardless of my mother's designs. I won't allow anyone to speak ill of that. Not even you.”

His expression was empty, his shoulders slouched. “So this is it? This is the only way to burn down those damned thorns? By sacrificing you?” The crack in his voice broke her heart. “I can't do that...” He slowly started to back off, walking away from their campfire. Melina, being bound to Grace outside of the capital, was unable to follow him. So instead she called out: “Don't! Don't do this!”

“I... I'm sorry Melina...” He stepped onward, his steps listless.

Shabriri, who had watched their conversation without uttering a word, got to his feet. “Be marry, kindling maiden. For you are about to witness the ascendancy of a new Lord, who will bring forth true equality.” A mad giggle escaped him. “He will burn down the Erdtree and incinerate all that divides and distinguishes.”

Melina pressed her jaws together, as she watched her chosen Tarnished disappear into the darkness. “He will prevail. Your wretched God will find no hold in him.” She glared at him, trying to push down the doubt rising inside of her.

The mad prophet sported a forlorn grin. “So faithful... will your faith in him survive the flames? The righteous roar of the yellow flames will swallow your pitiful wails. Ahh, may chaos take the world!” His yellow eyes flared up. “May chaos take the world!”

------------------------------------

It was a daze. To form clear thoughts was almost impossible, each step taken more an automatism than a conscious choice. Each enemy standing in his way was disposed of, without him really registering his actions. The Tarnished didn't really know what he was doing, but ever since he saw those yellow eyes of Shabriri, he was filled with this unbearable pull. To move onward, down into the sewers of the capital.

If he had been truly in control of his thoughts, he would be utterly repulsed by merely contemplating a decent into ankle-high pools of fecal matter. Of crawling through dirty pipes and rat infested tunnels.

But despite his dazed state of mind, what he saw down in the sewers and the horrible implications of it didn't completely pass him. The Omens, people sprouting horns and fur, shunned to live an existence beneath the golden capital. Far removed from the light of either the sun or the Erdtree, condemned to dwell in the dirt and darkness... All because of something that was out of their control.

The Golden Order, or Marika's interpretation of it, was proving once again just how rotten it was in truth. The Tarnished stopped walking for a moment and frowned, a moment of clarity flooding him. He had been in the process of changing how things were... Hadn't he? To support Ranni, dethroning the Golden Order... Why was he here? Ah, Melina... Her sacrifice would be necessary to continue on the way of the stars.

Before he could start doubting, he felt a piercing pain in his brain. It was like someone was pulling a rake over it and he almost went to his knees from the pain. The bitter taste of bile was on his tongue and he shuddered. His mind yet again becoming dull and driven by only one thought.

Descent further.

And so he stumbled on, further and further below the capital. At some point the structures around him looked more and more like a prison and less like a sewer. Barred doors and long stairwells. Was this also a choice made to keep the Omen from getting to the surface?

He took a lift that led him to the bottom of a long well-like structure. As he exited the lift, he looked up. Surrounded by brick walls and cold and stale air, he felt like he was hearing a distant melody between the sounds of those trapped in eternal torment down here. Melancholic and heavy, telling a story of deceit and suffering.

The pain in his head started again and the Tarnished pressed his hands to his temples. The sound resonating in his head reminded him of roaring flames. Flames devouring anything and everything, without distinction. And in the mid of this sound, there was yet again this order.

Descent further.

Continuing on, he walked into a room reminiscent of a small chapel. Benches were placed in neat rows and at the head of the room was an altar. The roots of the Erdtree, reaching down into the deepest depths of the continent, were present here as well. Remains of people granted an Erdree burial were visible in their cocoons of amber tree sap. To be returned to the Lands Between once more. A faint smell of blood hung in the air.

The room appeared to be a dead-end. No further corridors leading deeper down. He walked down the middle-aisle of the chapel, towards the altar. In a passing motion he touched the site of Grace as he walked past it.

The deafening sounds in his head had died down to an omnipresent humming, that resonated in his skull. He didn't register how he kept on mumbling to himself, like a mantra, over and over again. “Descent further. Descent further... Descent further.”

As he stepped up to the altar, he instinctively knew what to do. He pushed against the stone and set the mechanism into motion. With the loud sound of stone grating against stone, the altar disappeared into the floor, revealing a staircase. A surge of foul air hit him and he almost threw up. Decay. The melody he had heard before returned, louder now. It was coming from down there.

His foot on the first step, someone behind him called out: “Stop!”

In a lazy motion he turned halfway, looking at the woman at the side of Grace in the middle of the chapel. Melina, face marked by worry, stood there. “Cease this madness!”

He didn't answer, his mind too clouded to fully register her words, or the fear in her voice. All he did was stare at her, with eyes void of emotion or thought. Melina took a shaking breath. “The frenzied flame is not to be meddled with. It is chaos, devouring life and thought unending. I mean look at you...” She shook her head. “However ruined this world has become, however mired in torment and despair... Life endures. Births continue. There is beauty in that, is there not?”

The Tarnished just turned around and continued on his way. From behind him, he heard the kindling maiden call: “You wanted to change the lands for the better! Not plunge them into more despair! Remind yourself of who you are, Constantine!”

With each step he took, the humming in his head got louder. At the end of the staircase awaited a scenery that would've left him in horror under normal circumstances. Bodies. Body upon body, emaciated to the bone and yet unable to fully die. Trapped to suffer for all eternity, locked away in the deepest depths of the capital. An unloved memory, the queen wanted to forget about.

As the Tarnished stepped over the unlucky victims trapped down here, he felt nothing. He didn't care for them. He didn't care for the sound of bones breaking, as they gave way underneath his boots. He didn't care for the pain filled moans of the poor bastards in his way. Only one thing was important now. “Descent further.”

He peered over the edge of the platform, down a log shaft. The thing he was looking for was down there, he knew it. It beckoned him, luring him further. Daring him to make his way down. His steps were steady, as he walked over the ledge, dropping on a wooden beam underneath. With stiff and mechanical movements he managed to continue downwards, jumping and landing on stone coffins protruding from the walls.

Finally, he dropped the last bit to the ground. But the floor, despite being stone, gave way underneath him and so he dropped a bit further. His fall was stopped rather abruptly when he landed in dirt, hitting his head hard. His ears rung and for the first time in the past hours Constantine was actually in control of his thoughts again.

His knees shaking, he got up and looked round. Why in the name of Grace was he here? How much time had passed... The last thing he really remembered vividly was meeting Shabriri back at the mountaintops. He remembered the yellow eyes of the man, seemingly burning themselves into his mind. But most importantly, he remembered the content of their conversation. To continue on his way to the Elden Ring, he would have to sacrifice Melina.

With a quiet groan he rubbed his head, still hurting from the impact, then he walked towards the site of Grace in the corner. As it lighted up, he turned. Ahead of him was a big double winged door, made of stone. Someone wanted to make sure, that whatever lied behind this door would never see the light of day. Curiosity and a secret hope led him further towards it. Maybe there was actually a way to safe Melina behind that door.

He stood in front of the big stone door, the heat of whatever lied dormant behind it seeping through. Constantine shuddered and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The humming, that had died down momentarily, continued in full force. A metallic taste lied on his tongue and he realized he had bitten down on the insides of his cheeks.

With a sound of pain he held his mouth, ripping himself from the trance-like state he had been in. The humming in his head didn't die down, though. However... it seemed to form words now.

The only way.

Pure equality.

A cleansing.

He heard steps behind him and knew who it was. There was only one person capable of following him down here. “Constantine, please. Step back from that door!”, Melina pleaded, the urgency in her voice palpable. “This is not the way you are supposed to go.”

Only way to save her.

Embrace the flame.

Embrace the Chaos!

“If the way I'm supposed to go means to throw you into flames... can it be the right way?” He turned around to face the kindling maiden. Seeing her stand there, her brows furrowed and a hand on the hilt of her blade... Constantine shook his head. “I can't murder you, Melina.” Hearing his voice crack, he quickly cleared his throat.

Her features softened. “It is my destiny... the task I was given at birth... and the task I choose at the same time. Do not deny me my wish, Constantine.” She slowly lowered her hand from her blade. “I ask you one more time. Please, seek not the frenzied flame. As one who strives to become a Lord, deny not the lives, the new births of this world.” Now her voice was undeniably shaking and he saw the tears in her eye, as she pleaded with him. “Those who would are not fit to be called Lord. When the land they preside over is lifeless.”

Do not listen.

Ramblings full of delusions.

Burn them!

Constantine groaned and held his head, trying to shield his mind from the words of the Outer God. Melina was right, what was he doing here? He refused to serve the Greater Will, just to bow to another God? His mind poisoned by that man, Shabriri... and by his fear of losing someone dear to him.

There was no other way, no possibility of saving Melina. Not without plunging everything into the burning flames of frenzy. He had to do it... Sacrifice his companion. With listless steps he walked away from the door, towards Melina. Her features lit up and she nodded. “It is the right way, Constantine.”

Fool.

Too soft.

Unfitting.

It was as if a switch had been flipped and the humming in his head stopped. Apparently the Frenzied Flame had lost interest in him. He sighed relieved, then sat down at the site of Grace. Melina still stood, looking at him with an expression full of warmth and also relief. Constantine felt ashamed for having even considered accepting the flame of chaos, so he avoided looking directly at her as he mumbled: “The thought of just sacrificing you is unbearable... But I know it's the only way to proceed.” With clouded eyes he stared into the shine of Grace. “And I am tired of listening to the ramblings of some mad Gods.”

He heard footsteps, then a pair of boots blocked his view of the site of Grace. Melina crouched down in front of him, putting a hand on his cheek and saying: “Farewells are never easy, my friend. But I gladly give my life, if it means a new start for the land.”

Tears were biting in his eyes again and he quickly blinked to chase them away. There was no escaping her gaze this time, so he just faced her. “Don't you feel this is incredibly unjust?”

She chuckled and cocked her head. “Is it just, to put the fate of the whole Lands Between on the shoulders of one man? To have him face impossible odds? Have him make decisions that tear him up inside? I have to bear the easy part, compared to what you have to do. And I gladly fulfill it.” Melina lowered her hand from his cheek. “You and Ranni will bring forth a new age for the Lands Between. And maybe it will be an age where no one has to endure the hardship we all had to face. Isn't that thought... comforting?”

Constantine smiled weakly. “It is.” He looked at his hands. “Melina, would you allow me a selfish wish?”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “What is it?”

“Do you think we can wait just a little longer before going to the Forge of the Giants? There are still so many places left unexplored and it just wouldn't be the same without you.” Her features lit up in a smile. “It would be my pleasure.”

Chapter Text

The night was cold, the winds blowing over the land had everything with a pulse freezing. A singular person sat in front of the crumbling ruins of a church, that once stood tall and proud. An once imposing structure with a lot of significance to the royal house of Caria. And just like the ruins of the church, the person sitting there had lost her former appearance and significance to Caria.

Once tall and regal, with beauty that had the servants at court whisper whenever they saw her. Long, flaming red locks and piercing eyes in the color of molten gold. Dressed in the robes of the highest ranks of mages at the academy, radiating power and confidence. Heir to the incredible Queen Rennala. Ah, what a sight she had been.

But just like the glory days of the church and house Caria as a whole, that time was long gone. And yet, despite now residing in a body that wasn't nearly as appealing, Ranni was content. All the titles and future responsibilities, laid on her when she was still in the cradle, never mattered to her. She never wanted to adorn herself with the accomplishments of others, never rest on merely her heritage. It had always been her wish to carve out her own way.

And all her life, she had done exactly that. She would never bend the knee. To nobody. Iji always liked to joke that she inherited the pride and temperament of her mother, and Ranni liked that thought very much... She missed her mother at times like this.

Ranni looked down at the blade in her hands, letting her fingertips glide over it. The texture was too smooth for her to feel. What would Rennala say, if she saw her like this? Would she be proud? Or would she reprimand her for being reckless and getting herself into trouble once again? It almost made her smile imagining the Queen of the Full Moon pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing exasperated, while her daughter yet again stood before her littered with bruises and cuts like she so often had as a child.

She sighed and raised her gaze. The church of Manus Celest was right before her, the end so palpable... and yet she hesitated. How long was she already sitting here? Without a body of flesh that could feel hunger or thirst, it was easy to lose oneself in thoughts for whole days. At some point in her life time had become unimportant to her. What were a few days in the face of eternity?

So much time had passed, since that one fateful day she set all of this into motion. Never, not in a million years, would she be able to forget that night. Forget the feeling of cold steel piercing her flesh and even colder flames eating her up. The pain. The fear... The guilt.

Movement to her right startled her for a moment, before she saw that it was Adula. The dragon was guarding her, faithful as always. With a soft smile Ranni raised a hand and caressed over the scaly skin of the creature. The dragon hummed content. She remembered the day the dragon vowed her loyalty to her and the Dark Moon...

------------------------------------

“Oof”, Ranni exhaled as the tail of the dragon hit her hard, sending her tumbling over the snowy ground. She was hurt, bleeding from multiple wounds on her body, but she didn't consider running away for even a second. This was about proving a point. To herself and anyone doubting her. The dragon wasn't unharmed either, she had been able to land quite a few substantial hits herself.

With shaking legs she got back up. She had lost her catalyst somewhere in the fall, now all that remained where the spells she could conjure with her bare hands and the sword fastened to her hip. In one fluid motion she drew the blade, yet again facing the dragon.

The creature roared at her, the blue glintstone flames visible in the back of its throat. Ranni took a deep breath, bracing herself.

“Will you move!” Blaidd shouted. He stood a little to the side, watching the fight while pacing up and down. Of course he wanted to help his Mistress when they were attacked by the dragon, but Ranni, always eager to face a challenge, had ordered him to stay out of it. Mortified by her recklessness, but also unable to disobey her, he was condemned to just stay back.

Ranni laughed. “Thou'rt sounding like a hysterical wench at the sidelines of a tournament, Blaidd.”

“It is me mother will turn into a bedside rug, should I bring you home mauled into little pieces”, he retorted grumpily. “I think it is only reasonable I am a little nervous.”

Before the princess was able to respond, the dragon unleashed its blue flames on her. For a moment it seemed like that was the end of her, but Ranni was able to use the glintstone embedded in her sword to conjure a protective wall of ice. She still felt the heat all around her and for a moment she was slightly worried about her robes catching fire.

When the flames faded, she quickly let magic flow into the sword in her hand, conjuring a light blue blade that extended the reach of the weapon by quite a bit. She managed to land a few critical hits, making the dragon hiss and back of.

The spell was one of her own creations, heavily inspired by a spell regularly used by Carian mages and a spell her tutor liked to use. She almost froze her hand off when she first tried it, only after hours with warming stones the feeling had returned to her fingertips... Cold sorceries surely weren't without risk.

Ranni exhaled, letting some of the build up cold escape her body, before she conjured an icecrag and shot it towards the still retreating dragon. It hit the beast right in the chest, piercing the scales but didn't went deep enough to kill it. Though that wasn't her goal in the first place.

The dragon went to the ground, writhing in pain. Ranni approached it with safe steps, coming to a halt right in front of its maw. She could hear Blaidd gasp in the distance, probably pulling his ears in frustration. “Thou'rt bested, beast.”

It reared its head and bared its teeth, before slowly bowing it in a gesture of agreement. While she only sported a confident smirk, deep down Ranni was actually astonished she didn't end up as dragon food. Oh well... “Enter into my service, dragon. Devout thyself to the Dark Moon, and I may spare thy life.” With a deep sigh the creature laid its head on the ground in a submissive gesture and Ranni patted the snout of the dragon. “There we go. I welcome thee into my service, mighty dragon. Now begone until I give thee new orders.”

The dragon got to its feet and slowly limped away, to tend to its wounds. Ranni watched it leave and hummed in thought. She would need to think of a name for the dragon... Steps close to her made her turn around. A rather angry looking half-wolf was approaching her.

“You are mad. Completely daft even. Facing a dragon head-on...” Blaidd glared at her with piercing blue eyes. “Next time at least warn me, so I can start shoveling your grave.”

“Thy lack of faith in me really doth bring me pain, brother.” Theatrically she pouted, before a wide grin crossed her features. “Or is it not a lack of faith, but rather envy thou'rt feeling? Because as far as I see it, I have a dragon in my service, whereas thou dost not.”

“No one likes a braggart, you know”, he grumbled and started to walk. “You're missing an eyebrow, by the way. Burned right off.”

She quickly put a hand to her brow to check and then groaned. “Ahh shucks!”

------------------------------------

The memory of times past made her smile. She had been rather careless then, yet to be burdened with a seemingly impossible task. Dethroning a god, bringing forth a new age... back then she would've laughed out loud if someone would propose such an idea. Nowadays there were only few reasons left for her to laugh.

Though, as of late, there was one person that managed to make her smile and chuckle quite frequently. Constantine. That weird man, that more or less stumbled into her service. He managed to distract her from all the doom and gloom around them with his comments. Sometimes witty and sometimes plain clueless. A warrior with a surprisingly big heart.

Ranni didn't really register how her features softened quite a bit as she thought of her Tarnished champion... She wondered how he was doing right now.

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“Shit, shit, shit, shiiiiit!” Constantine spurred Torrent on, though the steed already ran as fast as he could. Behind them, in all its gross glory, was a gigantic hand-spider. Chasing them down the road towards the Volcano Manor, disregarding any trees in its way and scurrying towards them with a single-minded determination.

The whole area surrounding the volcano had been anything but hospitable. Soldiers of Rykard's army, driven mad and feral. Seemingly endless ladders leading up the mountain, ascending them made all the more exhausting by the hot and ash heavy air. And what did await him at the top? A bull-like creature, with seemingly impenetrable obsidian skin. It more or less had send him flying over the ledge, back all the way he just climbed. His skull had cracked open like a raw egg on impact.

And even this last stretch of the way was littered with dangers, namely those abhorrent hands chasing him down the dirt road. Constantine felt relief when he saw the entrance to a building, the door too small for the beast to follow him inside. A troll was standing in front of it, but it was rather easy for him to evade it and enter the manor.

Furious about its prey escaping, the hand-spider clawed at the stone, the warty fingers stretching into the foyer. With an expression of utter disgust, Constantine retreated further into the building. Just to be absolutely safe from the abomination. He patted Torrent's neck and gave him some Rowa Raisins. “You did a great job, my friend.” His steed gave him a gentle nudge, before returning to the spirit realm.

After calming himself down a little, he moved on, deeper into the manor. He entered a big room with a fireplace idly burning. He noticed how the color red was apparently a main stake of the estate, as it seemed omnipresent. A person, sitting elegantly in an ornate chair, watched him approach. The woman wore a long white robe with intricate gold embroidery. An expressionless porcelain mask was covering the face of the woman, giving her both an air of mystery and menace. Besides her stood a man in the armor of he Crucible Knights, both his hands on his weapon.

Constantine wondered, how she wasn't sitting in a puddle of her own sweat. He himself was sweating profusely already, which irked him to no small amount. Despite the nature of his work, he hated uncleanliness. The thought of a nice, long bath almost had him sigh longingly.

With cautious steps he approached the woman and bowed slightly. “Greetings.” He produced the invitation he had received from Rya, back in Liurnia. “I have an invitation to the Volcano Manor and, well given the location, I presume I am at the right place.”

She crossed her legs in an elegant motion. “Aren't you precocious.” Her way of speaking seemed very deliberate, a slight accent audible in it. “Brave Tarnished, welcome to the Volcano Manor. I am Tanith, the proprietress of this house. Rya spoke well of you. 'A warrior of promise', I believe she said.”

He felt a frown build on his forehead... the impression the girl had, was of a Tarnished fighting his own kind, unknowing that he merely bought the pendant from the mugger. “I am flattered by her kind words, b-”

Tanith continued talking: “Then perhaps you are prepared to make a commitment. Will you join us here at the Volcano Manor, and resist the tide?” She cocked her head. “Why accept the burden of their grace, or be fooled by the dogmatic ramblings of the Fingers? Rise with us, against the Erdtree.”

Constantine looked at her with raised eyebrows. What was it with women in these lands immediately wanting him to join into their service?! Despite having no intention of joining her fraction, he nonetheless asked: “What exactly is it you are doing?”

“The Recusants hunt the Tarnished aspiring to become Elden Lord. To break the never ending circle of senseless worship of the Erdtree.” She delicately folded her hands. “Hunting ones own kin is work dirty and not fitted for the meek. Yet it is a task necessary for our Lord's rise. So what say you, Tarnished?”

Hunters of Tarnished? While he himself was in no way interested in continuing the reign of the Erdtree and Greater Will, he wasn't willing to kill the poor saps that believed in the ramblings of the Two Fingers, like he himself once did. They were victims of a prophecy, of a fate laid upon them. Unable to break out of the golden chains. He knew that, hadn't he met Ranni again in Liurnia, he would probably still just blindly follow the orders of the Two Fingers. For what was really left in these lands, ruined by war and despair? Fight or give up. “I appreciate the offer. But I am already in the service of a Master.”

“Well. That is unfortunate-”

“Tarnished! I knew you would come.” Rya approached them from a small corridor. “Lady Tanith, that is the brave Tarnished I reported about.” She smiled at him, cheeks flushed red and eyes sparking. “He retrieved the precious item for me.”

“Ah Rya, it is nice to see you made it home safe.” The situation was getting more awkward by the second. The girl looked at him starry eyed and Constantine cleared his throat. “I should-”

“You must be tired from your long journey! Rest a moment in the drawing room.”

“I was just about to take my leave...”, he protested, but she just gave him a beaming smile. “I insist.” She took his hand to lead him down the corridor and he was absolutely dumbfounded. Tanith chuckled behind her mask and just shrugged her shoulders. “Well then, Tarnished. Be our guest.”

What was even happening? Rya led him down the corridor towards a communal room. Despite the heat everywhere, there was a fire burning in the fireplace here as well. Above it hang a portrait of General Radahn and he reminded himself that the Lord of the house, Praetor Rykard, was a scion of house Caria. He was the brother of both Radahn and Ranni.

Besides the fireplace sat a single man, his back turned to them. He was in full plate armor, seemingly unfazed by the heat in the manor. Even when they entered he didn't avert his eyes from the flames.

A big table was filling out a majority of the room, bowls full of fresh fruits were placed on it. Rya more or less pushed him on one of the chairs around it and happily said: “Let me fetch you something to eat. I am so happy you actually accepted the invite, brave champion.” And before he was able to protest, she was already gone.

When Constantine heard the familiar sparkling sound besides him, he groaned. “Don't you dare say a word.”

Melina sat down beside him, a wide grin on her face. “The girl has a horrid taste in men.”

He covered his face with his hands and shook his head. “It's not like I asked for it. To think, all of this because of a misunderstanding... I barely even talked with her. Do you think it is because of the blanked I gave her? Oh Grace this is embarrassing...”

“At least you now can sympathize with your dear Lady Ranni. After all, she has the exactly same situation with a certain 'dogged' Tarnished”, the woman laughed and Constantine picked a grape out of one of the bowls and threw it at her. “Not helpful!” She just dodged the fruit thrown at her and laughed even more.

“So you are supposed to be a new Recusant? We accept everything into our ranks nowadays”, the man at the fireplace grumbled. Constantine scoffed. “I have of intention of joining you, be assured.”

“Good. You are too soft for our work anyways.” He put a hand on the impressive club standing beside him. “Not everyone is made out to kill their own kind. It demands a certain kind of person. Determination and power of will. All things I feel you are lacking.”

Melina kept a watchful eye on him, as her chosen Tarnished stood up. “A murderer gloating about his crimes doesn't seem very admirable to me.”

“I wonder why Lady Tanith would let an ass-kisser of the Erdtree pass.” The other man got up as well. His face was covered by a hideous helmet. “Mayhaps I should show you the exit.” He got a proper grip on the club.

Just as Constantine was about to reach for his sword, Rya returned to the room with a plate in her hand. She looked utterly shocked when she saw that the two men were about to fight. “What is the meaning of this?”

Done with the whole situation, Constantine sighed. “Listen Rya. I appreciate the offer, but I didn't come here in search for a new master to serve. I won't join the Volcano Manor in whatever war you are waging against the Erdtree.” To clean his conscience, he added: “And I didn't kill that Tarnished that mugged you, back in Liurnia. I merely bought your necklace from him.”

Rya looked at him, disappointment clearly visible. “I see... That saddens me.” She hummed, then mumbled with flushed cheeks: “Nonetheless, I still think you are exceptionally brave... For only a true champion is capable of thinking of more than the obvious solution to a conflict...” While he stared at her in disbelieve, he heard Melina snort behind him. In an inconspicuous move he let his elbow shoot back, hitting something soft in the process. He heard a muffled sound of pain.

“This is embarrassing to watch”, the other Tarnished grumbled and returned to his seat at the fireplace.

“Thank you for the kind words. And sorry I'm not staying for dinner, but I think it is best I take my leave now...” He slowly backed out of the room. “It was nice seeing you unharmed.”

The girl smiled at him. “I do hope we will see each other again.”

“Yeah... sure...” As he started walking, Melina followed shortly behind him. “Leading the poor girl on is not very virtuous of you, Constantine.” She shook her head in mock disappointment, as she disappeared in a cloud of blue sparks.

He groaned, ready to just leave this place behind. However, out of the corner of his eye he spotted a portrait that had gone unnoticed when he first walked past it. It was of a woman, by the looks of it a sorcerer. He stopped and looked at the portrait, his interest stirred.

Who was this? Judging by the red hair and golden eyes, it was rather obvious she was related to Radagon in some form. The woman was portrayed with a rather regal expression, stern eyes gazing at the onlooker. She had a small nose, leading to full lips that sported the smallest of smiles. Soft cheekbones and a small chin gave her a friendly appearance, despite the rather serious expression. The facial-structure struck him as somewhat familiar, though he couldn't recall from where...

She held both a book and a catalyst and wore robes clearly inspired by the ones of Raya Lucaria, though hers were black and red instead of blue and red. The crest of house Caria was embroidered on the red ribbons around her neck. Whoever painted the portrait obviously cared about details, judging by all the freckles that were painstakingly drawn on the woman's face.

“Lunar Princess Ranni.” Tanith's voice made Constantine flinch and he turned to face her. She joined him in front of the painting and there was warmth in her voice. “She is the sister of my Lord.”

Constantine looked at the portrait with new interest. So that was how Ranni looked before transferring her soul into a doll... It was hard for him to imagine her looking different from how she currently did. Imagining the woman in the portrait speaking with her voice was weird, though he could not deny that it was very easy to picture the woman with a mocking smirk, accompanied by a raised eyebrow.

He was careful to not say anything that could rouse suspicions. “You knew her?” A harmless question, if a little weird coming from someone who claimed to have no connections with Ranni.

Tanith hummed. “I have been well acquainted with the Lunar Princess, though most of it was due to me being consort to her brother.”

The Tarnished, ever curious about new information about his mistress, inquired: “How was she like? You sound like you were quite fond of her.” Hidden by the expressionless porcelain mask, he didn't see her skeptical look.

She paused for a moment, before she slowly said: “The princess is... was... rather reserved to most. Only the ones closest to her got to experience that she could be quite impulsive.” Remembering something funny, she chuckled. “My Lord and her once had a dispute, that got quite heated. I think it was about the intricacies of a certain constellation and how it affected the potency of a particular spell. After hours of debate, my Lord, ever brilliant, managed to produce proof for his theory, which irked the princess. The next day, every meal and drink of his was frozen. Oh how mad he was when his bathwater turned freezing cold in the mid of his bath.”

Imagining Ranni sneaking around and freezing anything her brother might touch was so funny, he couldn't help but laugh. He had experienced himself, that she had a rather mischievous streak on her. Annoying someone out of spite didn't seem too far fetched.

Tanith's voice was serious again. “And like the fate of so many, hers was unfairly controlled by the Greater Will. A golden noose around her neck, it would spell her death in the end.” The proprietress of the manor faced him. “Reconsider my invitation, Tarnished. Join the Volcano Manor in a just fight.”

Constantine looked at the portrait again. He knew of course that Ranni was still alive... at least to a certain extend. And he had a hunch Tanith knew as well. The woman held a lot of secrets, he had no doubt about that. Everyone in these lands did, especially those that already held some power before the Shattering.

“I told you, I am already in the service of someone.” The golden eyes of the portrait mesmerized him. “Our goals don't strive too far from one another, though. I do not serve the Two Fingers. But I won't serve under the Volcano Manor either.”

She was not saying anything for a painfully long moment, before she huffed. “A shame. She must be rather convincing.”

Without thinking, he responded: “She is remarkable...” Hastily he shut his mouth and stared at her, but Tanith only chuckled quietly. “I see, I see. It explains a lot.” She gave him a small bow of her head, before she turned to leave. “Send Ranni my regards when you next see her.”

He groaned about his own mistake. Well, at least Tanith seemed too busy with her own fight against the Erdtree, to maybe start an attack against Ranni. And it was rather apparent now she already knew that the Lunar Princess wasn't truly dead.

As he took his leave from the manor, he contemplated on where to go next. There were many options, each more daunting and dangerous than the other. There was still a lot of the mountaintops left to explore, countless catacombs yet untouched and even more caves just waiting to be tread.

But despite his vast amount of options, one thing clung to his mind... the look of those golden eyes.

Chapter Text

Sometimes he really understood why Melina was sometimes so fed up with him. It must've been rather draining to watch him scurry around the Lands Between like a headless chicken. From one place without real significance to the next, just hunting down possible hints of treasure and adventure.

This... this was different though. Returing to Liurnia, to the sacred tower specifically, seemed like a senseless move. He had seen everything there was to see, hadn't he?

Constantine took a deep breath as he stepped onto the top of the tower. The sun was about to set and the air grew cold. The corpse – Ranni's corpse – still laid where he left it a couple of days ago. With renewed interest he inspected the big mark on the back of the corpse. So that was it, the Cursemark of Death.

While he took a closer look, a crow landed not far from him. It apparently never had made any bad experiences with humans, as it brazenly came closer. Something inside of Constantine snapped, when he saw the bird pecking at the corpse. This utter disrespect towards the woman he cherished so much made him react aggressively.

“Fuck off, will you”, he shouted, while throwing his helmet at the crow. With an outraged croak it flew away.

For a moment Constantine kept kneeling before the corpse. This... This was wrong. Ranni obviously didn't care about the remains, however he did for some reason. It didn't feel right for him to just let the corpse lay here, open for crows to peck at it.

With a little sigh he got onto his feet, wiping away the dust and ash on his knees. Constantine picked his helmet back up, then removed the cloak he was wearing. “Let's make this right.” Carefully, as to not break off any parts, he wrapped the corpse in the cloak.

Tenderly he picked it up, ignoring the smell of burned flesh that rose to his nose. Holding the cloaked corpse in his arms, he started his decent from the tower. His way through the study hall was uneventful, since he had already taken care of the enemies on his way to the tower.

When he stepped through the ornate doors of the hall out into Liurnia, he took a look around. After some thought he decided to bury the corpse underneath a tree. It looked like a nice spot to him. With utmost care he laid the corpse down on the grass, before facing a problem: how was he supposed to dig a grave? He didn't carry a shovel with him.

Constantine took off his helmet and sighed. It would suffice, though it would take a while and ruin the piece of armor in the process. Well, it couldn't be helped. So with the sun slowly setting he started digging a grave. Thanks to the humid climate of Liurnia, the ground was soft and rather easy to move. However, he nonetheless soon started sweating and felt his muscles grow sore from the extensive labor. As to not completely soak his armor and the shirt he was wearing underneath with sweat, he took it off.

The sun was long gone when he finally was satisfied with the result. With a quiet sound of exhaustion he climbed out of the grave and looked up in the sky. The clarity of the night's sky still had him in awe and made him wonder how many secrets were hidden up there in the endless realm of the stars. Constantine looked down at the cloaked figure laying on the ground. “I feel this is an appropriate setting to bury someone of house Caria, don't you agree?” Of course he received no answer. Instead an unusually cold breeze made him shiver slightly.

He picked up the corpse and laid it into the fresh grave. For a second he hesitated, before he rummaged through his pouch. After some moments of searching, he found the Talisman. It was the one he had found on the corpse the first time he had been here. With a solemn expression he placed it on the corpse, then he started closing the grave.

After another hour of shoveling earth, he was done. He propped his fists on his hips and nodded. “That should've been done much earlier.”

“It seemeth thou hast a lot of time at thy hands. Seeing that thou still deemest senseless tasks more important than becoming Elden Lord.” A familiar voice made him turn around quickly. Ranni stood half obscured by the shadows of the trees behind her, her one blue eye sparking almost menacingly.

He couldn't help himself but smile. “L-Lady Ranni?” She just huffed in amusement, a tender expression on her spectral face. And again Constantine had to admire just how beautiful she was. It was hard to describe, it wasn't just beauty in the common sense of the word, but something far more ethereal. It bewitched him every time he glanced at her.

He let his helmet, all covered in mud and dirt, fall to the ground and said: “I thought I would never see you again.”

She didn't answer immediately, just looked at the fresh grave and he wondered what thoughts went through her mind right now.

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Usually, Ranni wasn't one for stalling time. But for some reason she just couldn't bring herself to descent into the cave beneath Manus Celest. Was it because she knew what awaited her down there... or was it rather because she knew what would await her afterwards? She was a woman of sometimes cold logic, not one to get lost in emotions.

Yet, the uncertainty of what came next had her stagnate in fear. It had to be done, unless she wanted all the hard work to be for naught. All the pain, the sacrifices and blood shed. But could anyone blame her for hesitating? The prospect of thousands of years alone, in darkness and far removed from anyone... who would not be hesitant?

And her path to ascendancy was not yet set in stone. If Constantine wouldn't claim the throne of the Elden Lord, or worse yet, decide against allowing her as the new God of the coming age, she'd remain here. Condemned to wait.

Frustrated about her own spiraling thoughts, she stood up from where she was sitting. Of course her Tarnished champion would manage to claim the throne. It was ridiculous to doubt that for even a second... however, she wasn't so sure about his choice of God. The possibility of him picking Marika instead of her made her heart clench.

A thought formed in her mind... Ranni looked back at the church looming over her... There was still time. She had waited hundreds of years... a little diversion from the path should be fine. Just a little...

Ranni knew where he was. For some reason she could not fathom, he was still in possession of the little doll she had used as an alternative vessel. Though she didn't intent to meet him in her miniature form again... the memories of their awkward meeting a few days ago had her pull a grimace. She usually wasn't prone to feeling embarrassed, but Constantine was rather skilled in making her flustered.

As she channeled her magic, a part of her wondered why she was so focused on the Tarnished. She told herself that it was because he was essential for her to reach her goal... but deep down she knew that there was something more to it. When she stepped out of the spirit realm, she quickly banished that thought out of her mind.

She stood close to the Carian Study Hall, the firmament above speckled with stars. It was a lovely night, the stormy winds of the past days completely gone. Ranni looked around and when she saw Constantine she was surprised. What was he doing... and why wasn't he wearing a shirt?

Immediately flustered again, she averted her gaze. Not yet making her presence known to him, she braced herself and tried to force the embarrassment down. In this moment she was rather thankful for her doll body and it's incapability of blushing. Otherwise she'd be beet-red about now.

When she looked at him again, she watched him lay something wrapped in his cloak into the hole he had been digging. She frowned as she realized what he was doing. He was burying somebody... and judging by the location she knew exactly who. A strange feeling filled her as she watched her Tarnished looking almost serenely down at the body. Why...

And while she watched him close the grave, she recalled that faithful night. The night that would mark the beginning of the end for the Golden Order. The night that saw the death of two demigods. The night in which Ranni would lose the body she was born in, shedding herself of her Empyrean destiny. The Night of the Black Knives.

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Quick steps echoed in the room as it's inhabitant yet again walked towards the door. Ranni refused to admit that it was nervousness that had her prowling up and down her chamber in the manor of the Carian family. She worked years towards this moment, she couldn't afford to falter now.

For what felt like the twentieth time she looked into the mirror. She looked pale, even more so than she usually was. There were dark shadows underneath her eyes. The eyes of a demigod, the color of molten gold.

Ranni took a strand of her flaming red hair between her slender fingers and looked at it with disdain. Oh how much she hated that part of herself. It was a visible reminder of the blood she shared with Radagon. He may be her father, but she shared no emotional bonds with that man.

Never, not in a thousand moons, would she be able or willing to forgive him for what he did to her beloved mother, the last queen of Caria. How much he had hurt her, destroyed her spirits. Anger and sorrow gripped her heart as she thought about her poor mother, all alone. Abandoned by the man she called the love of her life. Cast aside so he could slouch around that harlot Marika.

And yet...

Ranni knew deep down that she herself would hurt her mother beyond repair with what she was about to do. It would probably destroy the last semblances of sanity inside the queen.

Ranni clenched her left hand to a fist, until her knuckles were white, trying to convince herself that she wouldn't do what she was about to out of an egotistical wish. She wanted to stop the influence of the Greater Will on the people of the Lands Between... but she also wanted to be free. Relieved from that hated Empyrean fate that was laid upon her. If it were only for her own sacrifice, she wouldn't be as hesitant as she were, but to plunge another one with her into the abyss... it gnawed on her conscience.

Absentmindedly she scratched her right lower arm, hissing in pain when she went over an unusually sensitive spot. Remnants of the ritual she carried out the past day. Defiance had a price...

A knock on the door interrupted her spiraling thoughts and she was grateful for it. With measured steps she walked towards the door and opened it. A tall man clad in pompous garments stood in front of her, his hair red and long, yet well kept. Praetor Rykard smiled at her through his beard. “Good evening to thee, my sister.”

“Brother”, Ranni answered without sparing any time for courtesies or pleasantries. She looked down the hallway in front of her chambers, looking out for any spies.

Rykard chuckled. “Art thou taking me a fool, dear sister? I might decide to take offense in thy wariness.”

She scoffed and motioned him to follow her into her chambers. As he closed the heavy wooden door behind him, he said without any circumlocution: “This shall be the night we act upon thy plan. All pieces are set in place. The Black Knives are in progress of entering the capital.”

Ranni nodded merely, unable to speak with the lump in her throat. Everything she had been working towards the past years would come to fruition. She should be ecstatic and yet she only felt nervous. In a moment of weakness she let a deep sigh escape her lips.

Rykard looked at his sister with those golden eyes, calculating. “Didst thou lose thy faith in the plan thou'st conspired? I hope thou knowest that doubt hath no place here, Ranni. I gladly helped thee up until now, but it is thine own onus to walk the last step.” His voice wasn't stern or scolding, in fact it had a strange warmth to it.

Rykard always had been closer to Ranni than Radahn. Maybe it was because Ranni was the youngest and Rykard saw it his duty as the oldest to watch over her. Or maybe it was because they both planned to destroy the Golden Order, though his way was even darker than the path she was about to tread. Regardless, it was heresy that united the siblings.

“Nay, I stand firm with my decisions.” She returned his gaze, any nervousness wiped from it. “Is Seluvis on the ready? I'd hate to find myself a final end tonight.”

The Praetor nodded. “He is waiting with thy new vessel.” He hesitated for a moment. “Art thou certain with the look of it? I know thou hadst that ice witch as thy tutor, but doth that warrant such measures? The vessel is a... required taste.”

Ranni couldn't help herself and snorted. “Oh dear brother, I never took thee for a man of vanity.” She obviously mocked him. When they had been younger she used to call him a magpie's dream because of all the jewelry he liked to adorn himself with. “Thou knowest that I certainly do not put much mind into such affairs. The vessel shall serve me well.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, her right hand gloved.

He rolled his eyes, before carefully asking: “Thy hand...” Ranni sighed and pulled the glove off, revealing purple, almost blackish, skin. Her fingers unresponsive and slightly swollen. The discoloration continuing up her arm, though that fact was hidden by the long sleeves of her robes. The ritual to imbue the blades of the assassins with the Rune of Death had left its marks on her, the direct contact with it already enough to turn her flesh necrotic.

Rykard pulled a grimace, looking both fascinated and disgusted. “Doth it hurt?”

She put the glove back on and shrugged. “I would not call it pleasant. But I made acquaintance with frostbite more than once, this feeling doth not differ too much from it. And this state is only temporary. For my new vessel, which thou hast called hideous so frivolously, wilt not suffer my current wounds. A few more hours of a numb appendage will be fine.”

He smirked, then turned towards the door, hesitating before opening it. “One of the Black Knives wilt accompany thee, comes midnight... the rest is up to thee.” Rykard turned one last time to his sister, his gaze almost melancholic. “Tis farewell.”

She looked up at him and gave him a warm smile. “I thank thee for thine assistance. Without thy help, I might've never seen my plans come to fruition.”

After another moment of hesitation, her brother pulled her in a gentle hug. “May the stars always light thy way and lead thee to thy destiny, little Ranni.”

He stepped away from her and she felt tears biting in her eyes. “I...” Ranni didn't know what to say, so she just stared to the ground, in hopes he wouldn't see her reddened eyes. “Forget not the gift I left thee... Make good use of it, should the hounds of the Erdtree come for thee.” A blade, infused with the rune of death. A trump card, for her brother to defend himself.

She flinched, when he put a hand underneath her chin to raise her gaze. “Both thee and I shall shake the very roots of the Erdtree, sister dearest.” White teeth were visible through his beard, as he flashed her a wide grin. There was something dark in his golden eyes, something she had never seen in them before. “Together... we shall tear that accursed order down.”

She frowned slightly at his almost fanatic words. “Rykard...”

“Let us dawdle no longer”, he said quickly, bowing his head. “Prepare thyself for the task ahead. After tonight, there will be no way back.” His gaze grew soft. “And... maybe visit mother?”

With those parting words he left her and after the door to her chamber closed once more, the silence felt heavy. Something had been different about her brother, though she wasn't able to put a finger on what exactly had changed.

With slow steps she walked towards her bed and sat down. As much time and effort she had put in, leading up to this night... Ranni was still surprised it had come so quickly.

When she looked down to her hands, she saw them shaking. What would it be like to die? Would it hurt? She knew that she would wake anew, in a new body with her destiny finally hers to control. But still she wondered what would happen if she had made a mistake.

Furious about herself she shook her head. She couldn't allow herself such thoughts! If she had no faith in herself and her skills as a sorceress, then truly, who was there left to have faith in for her?

She sighed and let herself fall onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. Despite desperately trying to get a hold of them, her thoughts were chasing each other, stumbling from one fatalistic scenario to the next. Ranni covered her eyes with her arm... maybe Rykard was right. She should visit her mother, so her mind could focus on another thought than her eminent death.

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Raya Lucaria was almost silent around this hour of day, most of the scholars either sleeping or gazing at the night sky though telescopes. Ranni reached the office of the headmaster without meeting anyone and she was grateful for it. The last thing she needed was some overzealous scholar trying to rope her into a tiring conversation.

Hesitantly she knocked on the door and even though she received no answer, she entered nonetheless. She knew her mother was there. Since Radagon departed she barely left the academy anymore, rather shutting herself in with books and studies than to be surrounded by painful memories.

Queen Rennala sat behind her desk, a blank piece of paper before her and a quill in her hand. Ink was dropping from its tip down on the paper, sullying it, but the queen just stared at the amber egg sitting on the desk with an almost empty expression. The accursed departing gift the golden hound had left behind before crawling towards Leyndell.

The crescent crown of the queen sat on the table besides her, revealing her jet black hair that was tied into a tight bun. Her blue eyes seemed dull, as if she wasn't really present. Ranni visited her mother regularly and she had the feeling the mental state of Rennala worsened in a rapid speed. It hurt to see her like that and Ranni cursed her father once more. He had hurt her so badly, destroying her spirit with his actions.

“Mother, tis I”, Ranni announced herself carefully. Rennala looked startled for a second, before the life returned to her eyes and she smiled warmly. “Ah, Ranni my dear. Come hither, stand not so distant.”

As she approached her mother, she felt herself shaking slightly. This would probably be the last time she'd see her, at least in this body. After tonight everything would be different...

“What bringeth thee here this late of an hour? Is something amiss?”, Rennala inquired and her daughter shook her head. “Nay, I... I just wanted to visit thee. See if thou'rt fairing well.” Before I get myself killed later this night. She looked into the ice-blue eyes of her mother, so full of love and warmth. All Ranni wanted to do was bury her face in her robes, like she was a little girl again, and forget about the things she had to do. Her composure slowly started to crumble.

“Thou needst not to worry for me unduly”, Rennala said with a disapproving frown, before she added a little softer: “Though I always look forward to thy visits.” At that Ranni smiled a little, though she couldn't bring herself to fully commit to it. Absentmindedly she picked up a quill from the table and let the feather glide through her fingers.

“What happened to thy hand?” The queen wanted to reach for her gloved, right hand, but she quickly put it out of reach. She cursed herself for being so reckless and drawing attention to her wound. “Ah, a little mishap during my studies. Tis alright, the skin is just very sensitive still.”

“Thou shouldst have one of the healers tend to it.” The suggestion of her mother made her scoff quietly. She didn't want any of those Golden Order hounds anywhere near her. “I am fine.” She continued fidgeting with the quill.

“Something is troubling thy mind.” A warm hand on her cheek made Ranni flinch. Another crack in her composure. She shouldn't have come here... “Worry not about me, mother. Tis nothing.”

Hurt was visible in Rennala's gaze, as she lowered it alongside her slender hand. “I... I see.” The queen slowly said: “Thou canst confide thy worries in me, my little one. Please don't push me away.”

A little shocked about that statement, Ranni frowned. “I could never.” A lie. Blatant and cold, but she knew it was the only way to protect her mother from the hurtful truth.

“I am painfully aware that I have been absent as of late... But do not be mistaken, I care deeply. And I always will.” A sad smile on thin lips. “Thou wilt tell me if something is troubling thee, no?”

For a second she thought about telling her mother everything. But she knew that she'd never allow her to go through with her scheme. Rennala would do everything, to keep her from stepping foot on the sacred tower tonight. So, instead of putting her trust in her mother, she merely nodded. “Of course, mother.” Another lie.

Rennala sighed and slightly shook her head, before she stood up. As she put her crown back on, she asked: “Care to join me for dinner?” She would've loved to actually join her mother. To ease her mind with some good food and a conversation. But she didn't have the time for it, midnight was creeping ever closer.

“Sadly I have to take my leave.” She smiled ruefully and Rennala looked disappointed for a moment, before she caressed over her cheek. “Another time, then?” Ranni, knowing full well that there may would be no next opportunity, said: “I would love that.” Lies above lies.

The spark of joy in her mother's eyes made her want to sob. She should've just stayed in her room, preparing for the upcoming ritual. Giving in to her emotions never done her any good, so why did she decide to follow the temptation this time?

They both left the office and the queen looked at her daughter. “Be safe, Ranni.”

She wanted to hug her tightly. But she knew she'd give herself away if she did that, so instead she bowed her head. “Goodbye, mother.” With that she quickly turned and left. As soon as she felt she was at a proper distance, she turned into one of the narrow side passages littering the academy. Her breaths turned from controlled and even to trembling, and finally, after being sure she was alone, she crumbled.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, when she pressed her back against the cold stone wall and slowly let herself slide to the ground. She pulled her knees to her chest, hugging her legs tightly. Ranni hadn't cried like this for a long time. Sobbing inconsolably, shaking and trembling. It was a mix of guilt, overwhelming fear and the prospect of comfort from her mother that had her lose composure like this.

After a few more moments of allowing herself this weakness, she wiped away her tears with the sleeves of her robe and took a deep breath. With still shaky knees she got back up. She looked out of one of the small windows and assessed the time by looking at the night's sky.

There was no more time. Fate called. Death beckoned.

Chapter Text

“So you will just accept your fate? Like livestock, lead to the butcher?” Piercing blue eyes looked at the student in front of them with a touch of disappointment.

“Art thou expecting me to lead a revolution?”, the student scoffed in response. “Against the Erdtree and a literal God?”

“No, pipsqueak. Blunt violence is so uninspired. I'm expecting some finesse from you.” The woman tipped with one of her four index fingers against her temple. “Use that pretty head of yours.”

The young Ranni frowned, slightly offended. “It is not like I didn't torture my brain with finding a solution to my predicament. Yet I am woefully defeated by the odds stacked against me. All that is left for me, is to hope the Greater Will chooseth Miquella or Malenia as a successor to the eternal harlot.”

“So you choose laying down and waiting for fate to take it's course. Maybe they shouldn't call you Lunar Princess, but rather Delusional Princess”, the crone sighed. At Ranni's irritated gaze she cackled. “Oh, so feisty. But think. There is an obvious solution. If there is no vessel left for them to use, how might they force their will on you?”

“What is it thou'rt implying?” The princess wasn't able to follow, despite being rather smart.

“You have to die”, the tutor said, a chilling grin on her chapped lips. She handed her student a book, bound in black leather. “Die in body, but not in spirit. Leave that part to some other poor sap.”

“My kin is unable to experience true death, didst thou forget?” A little smug she asked: “Is old age getting to thee, honored teacher?”

The comment earned her a hearty slap on the back of her head. “Shut it, impudent child.” Harshly she pointed at the book. “Destined Death. There is a possibility for you to get rid of that body, given to you by Grace.”

Ranni looked down at the book, rubbing the back of her head that was still hurting from the slap she received. Cold was filling her to the core. She knew that this was dark magic. Really dark magic. But now she had a way to escape the golden chains. “I see...”

“I'm sure you'll manage, pipsqueak.” The crone cackled again. “After all, you had me as your teacher.”

--------------------------------------

Her robes swayed in a harsh breeze. Ranni shuddered and despite not being prone to it, she felt cold. The sky was covered by clouds, so she wasn't even able to see the stars. Liurnia's capricious weather denying her to see her moon on this already difficult night. The utter injustice...

She turned towards the only other person with her atop the tower. The nameless Black Knife was standing still, like she was hewn from stone. The woman had an unsettling air about her, though Ranni didn't really look to make new friends tonight. If the poor wretch knew what fate awaited her and her sisters...

The agreement between her and the Numen women was rather simple. Ranni wanted to shed her flesh and needed a demigod to die, and the Black Knifes wanted revenge and an opening in Marika's defense.

The Goddess was Numen herself, though she turned her back on her heritage long ago. She even betrayed them, by bringing destruction and demise to the Eternal Cities. The Numen were scions of the cities of eternal night, knowing that one of their own caused such calamity to their home was unforgivable to them. They wanted to see Marika suffer.

That was why, when the Lunar Princess approached them in Sellia, the Black Knifes had only one condition for accepting the contract. The other demigod to die had to be Godwyn the Golden. Marika's first and favorite child. The perfect embodiment of all that was golden.

Ranni didn't mind that really, a cruel part of her even delighted by the fact she was able to cause her pain. She imagined one of Marika's Omen sons would've been an easier target, but in the end it didn't matter. Her only request was to definitely leave out her brothers, and Miquella and Malenia.

She didn't exactly have what could be described as a sisterly relation with the twins, but she found them both to be rather tolerable. Maybe it was because Miquella himself didn't care too much for his mother's way of governing the lands, even revolting against her with his Hailigtree. And as much as Ranni despised anything to do with Radagon, she couldn't fault poor Miquella for being loyal to their father. After all, he did not have the luxury of a loving mother.

Ranni held her head high. She wore the traditional blue and red robes of Raya Lucaria and her red hair was tied back into a simple ponytail. It might've seem unfitting for a woman of royalty, but she didn't care. The robes reminded her of times past, of countless hours spent with her mother in the grand halls of the academy, learning about Glintstones and the stars. Ranni longed for those days, but she knew that things never would be like that again.

Absentmindedly she slipped a hand into her pocket, feeling the Stargazer Heirloom in her hand. It was a talisman depicting how her mother Rennala had found her Full Moon. The starting point of the Carian royal family.

When she was little, she always loved to listen to the heroic tales about her mother and how she had forced the foes of house Caria into submission. To Ranni, her mother had been the strongest person in all the Lands Between. She had adored her, aspiring to find her own Moon one day to follow in her footsteps.

And indeed she had found it... The Dark Moon. After that day she had known, that there was no way she would ever succeed Marika as God and willing puppet of the Greater Will. No, she had to go her own path, see her Dark Moon become reality and cloak the Lands Between in an age of self-determination. Even if it meant eternal darkness for herself.

She risked a glimpse at the motionless puppet sitting not far from them. Blue skin, four arms and unseeing blue eyes. Her new body after she discarded the one she was born in. With a small sigh she looked down at her right hand. It started to hurt with passing time and what started as a feeling of little needles pricking her skin had developed into a painful burning sensation.

When the Black Knife behind her moved she instinctively flinched. A mocking scoff came from under the hood of the woman. “Nervous, princess?”

Ranni refused to dignify the provocation with an answer. The blade of the assassin glimmered in a foreboding red, the energy of the Rune of Death rippling through it. Death indiscriminate, a thing unseen in the Lands Between ever since Marika decided to remove the Rune. She would be among the first to feel it's touch in centuries.

Ranni felt her heart beat fast in her chest, like it knew what was awaiting it and trying to flee. Poor little thing. Now she just had to wait. Wait for point midnight. Godwyn the Golden and Lunar Princess Ranni would have to feel the deadly kiss of the Rune of Death at the same time for the ritual to succeed. One half of the Mark of Death needed to be carved into him, the other into her. One killing the soul, the other the body.

She felt how tense she was and forced herself to relax her muscles a little. Ranni had no intention to seem like a craven in the face of death. No, she...

It came suddenly and without a word of warning. The Black Knife laid an arm around her neck from behind, before plunging the dagger in her back, barely missing her spine. The black steel burned with the Rune of Death, cutting through her flesh and bones. The pain was racing through her entire body and her knees buckled.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she felt Blaidd through their connection. The utter panic and confusion that was filling him, when her own distress reached him. He only knew she was in serious danger, but not what exactly was happening. She didn't tell him about her plans, because she knew he would try to deter her. It had been a challenge to keep him from discovering the truth. Poor Blaidd...

Tears filled her eyes and she opened her mouth in a silent scream, as the flames of destined death gnawed on her. It burned! It burned so terribly! Her whole being was shook, everything seemed surreal as the flames of death ate away at her life force. Subconsciously she tried to free herself from the iron grip of the woman holding her, a last effort of her body to maybe escape it's fate, but it was in vain.

“Stop squirming, will you”, the assassin behind her growled, tugging her brutally and driving the blade even deeper into her body.

Blood gushed to the ground and her last remnants of fight faded, as she felt herself grow weaker and weaker. She coughed up blood that dribbled from her lips onto her robes. Ranni started to feel cold, despite the sensation of fire burning her up from the inside.

She had never minded the cold. It always reminded her of starry nights spent gazing up at the skies over Liurnia. Of her mother holding her hand, while pointing out constellations and telling her little daughter stories about heroes fighting monsters that derived from the stars.

Ranni looked up at the sky with blurry vision. For a moment she really lamented the fact she wasn't able to see her beloved stars. The moon. The dark of the cosmos that had been her constant companion ever since birth. There were only the golden branches of that accursed tree, almost mockingly shining their light on her. Ah, it was just her luck.

The pain in her right arm had become unbearable, almost like the limb was crushed while still connected to her. Until there was no feeling at all. When she looked down, she saw that her right hand was gone, turned to ash by insatiable flames.

She tried to breathe but her body refused to obey her, her lungs filled with her own blood. She gasped, like a fish on land. Then her heart stopped beating. The woman behind her loosened the grip on her and she just fell to the side, still gasping. It was an almost serene moment and she was just shrouded in silence, as her vision slowly faded. And then...

Darkness.

First there was a feeling. A pull towards an endless void. Sweet peace beckoned her, to just put down that silly fight she fought and give in to the comfort of death. She was tempted for a moment, but quickly fought against it. Clawing back to the surface, away from the void.

But she heard a voice calling out to her. Cold and raspy. “You are mine. No matter what you try, you will not escape me.”

Her eyes fluttered open and and slowly she took in her surroundings. Her vision was still slightly blurry, but she saw the almost empty platform before her and the single person standing across from her, looking down at a corpse. Black and red flames engulfed the body, hungrily feeding on the remaining life in it.

Ranni slowly raised a hand, looking down at slender blue digits. She didn't feel anything. Not the cold of the night, not the stormy winds. Carefully she raked over the ground and only dimly felt the rough texture of the stone on her fingertips. Her new reality felt so very dull.

“Back in the realm of the living, I presume?” The Black Knife sneered. “Apparently my sisters have been successful...ha.” She sounded almost surprised herself.

In a fluid motion Ranni got to her feet. With still uneven steps she approached the burning corpse, ignoring the assassin. Though she couldn't ignore the realization of how small she was now. A few moments ago she had been standing a head taller than the already tall Numen. Now she would have to raise her gaze when speaking to her.

She expected to feel distressed over seeing herself dead... but strangely there was only relieve. The amount of blood surrounding the corpse was rather remarkable. Almost comedic how one person was able to bleed that much, really. She was free. Finally. Without noticing it, she started smiling, as she watched the flesh burn. Then she saw how her red hair had been reduced to nothing but ashes, and she actually laughed.

“Freak”, the Black Knife grumbled and took her distance from her. Ranni didn't care. For how could she, now that fate was finally hers to decide?

--------------------------------------

In all the years that passed after that fateful night – and oh it had been so many - she hadn't spared much thought for that corpse. Until the Tarnished came along.

At first she thought he was after the Mark of the Centipede engraved on her discarded flesh and when she had given him the inverted statue as rewards for his services to her, she had been sure that he would just snatch up the Mark and leave things as they were. But to her utter surprise he had no idea about the Cursemark and what powers it harbored if it were to be joined with its other half.

He didn't even touch the Cursemark of Death. No, instead he apparently had decided to bury her former body. A part of her wanted to reprimand him for this sentimentality. But another part... He was so careful with his motions, that it tugged on Ranni's heartstrings. She shook head, deciding to finally make him aware of her presence.

“It seemeth thou hast a lot of time at thy hands. Seeing that thou still deemest senseless tasks more important than becoming Elden Lord.” She stepped closer to him and he twirled around. “L-Lady Ranni?” His eyes wide and his expression one of true surprise, she couldn't help but chuckle.

Constantine always wore his feelings on his face and she found that trait rather endearing. In a land full of betrayal and deceit, it was refreshing to find such an earnest soul. Though she also knew that people with ill intentions might use that very trait against him.

The thought of someone mistreating Constantine caused anger burn in her chest and that fact was very problematic. She shouldn't be this attached to that man. He had been a useful asset in her plan, but now she should distance herself from him... yet she took a break from the final stretch of her way to destiny, just to see him one last time.

While letting his dirty helmet drop to the floor, he carefully said: “I thought I would never see you again.”

Ranni slightly tilted her head. To be honest she had thought the same. But why exactly did she come here? It had been a rather impulsive decision. Was it curiosity? To say a final goodbye? … A mere longing to be at his side? To see him smile at her with that faint blush on his cheeks? Annoyed about her own emotions she inwardly shook her head and banished all thoughts of that kind.

To avoid explaining herself she pointed towards the fresh grave. “Thou ought to do better than losing thyself in such sentimentality.”

He frowned. “It was the right thing to do.” His gaze was puzzled. “Didn't it bother you, to know that part of you is just rotting away on the top of the tower?”

Ranni scoffed. “Unlike thee, my time hath been preoccupied with matters far more pressing than a rotting corpse.”

It surprised her when she saw his features grow soft. “I know I shouldn't waste any more time... But it just made me sad to think part of my Lady all alone, the only company the crows that pecked at the remains. It just didn't feel right. I know you separated yourself from that form and it technically isn't your body anymore... but I still felt you deserve better.”

For a long moment she didn't say anything, just looking at the Tarnished. She was moved. Though she did not care for her former body, he did simply because of his devotion to her. He would take this detour from his path, just so he could show her yet another sign of respect and affection.

Ranni felt something deep inside her stir and her nonexistent heart clench in her chest. Slowly she shook her head. “Thou truly art a mystery, my dear Constantine.” She knew, if her doll body were capable of it, a blush would be high on her cheeks.

The man gave her a lopsided grin. “I've heard a constant aura of mystery has a certain appeal.”

He chuckled at himself before he sat down in the grass. His gaze wandered towards the horizon and he watched the sea that was calm on this night. But even though the night was calm, his featured seemed troubled. Ranni hesitated for a moment, before she joined him and sat down beside him. It seemed unfitting for her to just sit down on the ground, but she felt it was alright to disregard etiquette for once. “What doth trouble thee?”

The Tarnished didn't answer immediately, but when he did, his voice was heavy with the sorrow of a man who held the lives of a whole continent in his hand. “I worked hard to achieve what I did. A lot of people died by my hand because they were in the way. And now... I stand before a decision and I don't know if I'm strong enough to make it. Well, not a decision really. It's more a fact.” He drew breath, his usually cheerful demeanor dimmed. “I have to sacrifice someone very close to me. The woman that helped me survive this whole madness by granting me the strength of runes. Her sacrifice is necessary if I want to continue... but...” His words failed him.

Ranni felt a little sting when she heard him talk this warmly about the other woman. She ignored that childish fit of jealousy and carefully said: “Thou art wondering if all of this is worth the pain?”

He didn't raise his voice, but only nodded. The expression on his face seemed almost as if he was scared. Maybe he was scared to offend her? Or maybe he was scared that he had wasted his time pursuing a goal that no longer fit his vision? Ranni wasn't able to tell, but she sympathized either way. After all she didn't elaborate too much on the order she had in mind. It made her wonder again why this man was so dedicated to helping her. Where was this devotion stemming from?

To ease his mind a little, she smiled softly at him. “Mayhaps I should expound a little further... Upon the Order I envision.” The Tarnished looked at her in anticipation and she continued: “Mine will be not an order of gold, but the stars and moon of the chill night. I would keep them far from the earth beneath our feet.” Almost absentmindedly she let one of her hands caress the grass, feeling the cold dew on the blades. “As it is now, life, and souls, and order are bound tightly together, but I would have them at a great remove. And have the certainty of sight, emotion, faith and touch...” She stilled her motion and looked up to her Tarnished champion. “...All become impossibilities. Which is why I would abandon this soil, with mine order.”

He didn't speak for what felt like an eternity and Ranni grew more uncertain by the second. Would he abandon her side, now that she fully explained what she had in mind? Turn his back on her like so many had before? Quietly he asked: “Will I ever see you again after I've become Elden Lord and we set your order in motion?”

She was surprised by that question. She had expected him to ask her about her motives or to expand even more on the order... but she hadn't expected him to ask her that. Yet again she felt her heart clench. Ranni smiled tenderly and shook her head. “Nay. To see mine order truly fulfilled, I need to take my leave. Tis the only right way.”

“Leaving all by yourself...”, he said with a heavy voice and in a move she could only describe as bold, he took her hand, that was still laying on the grass, into his. “... it sounds very lonely.”

She froze and widened her eye, the feeling of her cold in his warm hand resonating through her whole body. All of a sudden she felt nervous and strangely giddy. What a curious sensation. However... it wasn't bad.

Ranni chuckled, as she intertwined her fingers with his. “Constantine... Thou art most peculiar.” He smirked at her and gently squeezed her hand.

And so they just sat there, holding hands and watching the sea and not speaking a word for a long time. She had to go, to slay her Two Fingers, she knew that... but she just couldn't bring herself to say farewell to her Tarnished. It certainly would cause no harm if she stayed just a little longer.

When he finally broke the silence, he sounded almost shy. “I saw a portrait of you in Volcano Manor. How you looked before you discarded the body you were born in...” The Tarnished smiled sheepishly. “You have always been a beauty it appears.”

Ranni refrained from raising one eyebrow and silently cursed Rykard for holding on to keepsakes of the past. She sighed. “Is that so?”

“I mean you are beautiful as you are, but I have to admit... those freckles truly were lovely.” He was blushing all over and she just had to seize the opportunity to tease him. “Oh Constantine, thy words never cease to surprise. Heed prudence, though. One might assume thou art courting me by the way thou'rt talking.”

His blush grew even deeper and he averted his gaze. “Not fair”, he mumbled and she squeezed his hand in apology. She did feel slightly bad for constantly teasing him... though he made it a lot of fun with his flustered reactions. “Please forgive my teasing. I just... Never hath man or woman spoken to me this freely. Thy sweet words caught me by surprise.”

He seemed to think for a moment, before almost whispering: “A-And what if I were to court you... Would you... I mean... Would you even allow me to court you?”

His eyes were searching for hers. Looking for a reaction to his bold words, but truth be told... she didn't know how to react to this confession. Ranni has had a hunch the Tarnished might be smitten with her, anyone with eyes would've been able to see it. But to hear him outright confess to it just like that took her by surprise. It caused a strange fluttering sensation in her stomach to rise and despite her body lacking any blood, she felt warm. A little nervous she lowered her gaze.

How did she feel about Constantine? At the beginning she had kept him around because he was useful... but pretty soon she had realized how enjoyable his company was. He was honest and warm, but could hold himself in serious conversation as well. One thing that she found most intriguing about him was the fact, that he wasn't shy of asking her for her motivations, prying her open to understand her better. Ranni felt like he actually cared for her, beyond the goal she was pursuing... he was interested in her as a person.

She thought about all the things Constantine had done for her. About all the dangers he had faced for her. The memories of his dying screams as he had been mauled by that ant crossed her mind and she felt the same worry she had back then. The worry for her beloved Tarnished, she had grown fond of so much...

Beloved?! What was she thinking? No, she really shouldn't think about Constantine like that. He was her sword, nothing more. Her path ahead was long and dark, she wouldn't want anyone to have to endure it with her. Especially not someone of such a kind heart. She was prepared to leave into loneliness, no one but herself in the void of darkness.

However... Thinking about him joining her on her long journey made it appear much less dark. To have him at her side, looking at her with those warm brown eyes and calling her beautiful... Ah shucks. What was this man doing to her?

While she squirmed internally about her churning emotions, he caressed over the back of her hand with his thumb, as if to reassure her. “It is alright if you don't answer me now... Just... Before you leave the Lands Between, I would love to know how my Lady feels about me.” Constantine smiled at her full of fondness, when she stared at him, and Ranni had to admit... it was a lovely smile.

A little bashful she averted her eyes, her gaze getting caught on his bare chest... She caught herself staring longer than it probably would be considered appropriate. Scars, some fresh and some old, were all over his pale skin. Results of endless fights, of battles won or lost.

Like with his stubble, she found herself curious about how the texture would feel under her fingertips. Only this time, she didn't stop herself and got swept up in the moment. Carefully she raised a hand and followed the trail of one especially nasty looking scar stretching across his chest. She felt the heat of his skin and the rough texture of the scar. “Thou hast endured so much...”

She caught herself enjoying his warmth, yearning for more. How would it feel, she wondered, if he enveloped her in his arms, sharing his warmth with her? It had been so many years since she had abandoned her body, she barely remembered how it felt to be truly warm. To feel the blood racing through her veins as she blushed. And yet... in this moment she felt very alive.

Constantine shivered underneath her cold touch, but remained almost frozen otherwise. Only slowly did Ranni raise her gaze from his chest back to his eyes. He obviously looked a little flustered, but he also had this longing expression. It made the fluttering sensation in her stomach intensify and she stilled her touch, letting her hand rest flat on his chest, feeling his fast heartbeat. She knew, if there were a heart beating in her chest, it would be racing now as well.

“I wonder...”, he mumbled, but stopped and apparently decided against continuing. She slightly tilted her head. “Speak freely, Constantine.”

He was quiet for another moment, before he carefully asked: “I wonder if you cast a spell on me on our first meeting.” He laid his hand atop hers that was still resting on his chest. “Because no matter where, whenever I see you this godforsaken world seems just so much nicer.” Ranni blinked twice in quick succession and then laughed. Wholeheartedly and unrestrained.

Shocked by her own outburst, she held one hand in front of her mouth, but she still kept chuckling. To be true, she couldn't remember when she last laughed with such mirth. “A witch I might be, but I do not prowl the Lands Between charming Tarnished to do my bidding. Most of thy kin turn to leave when they see me.”

He winked at her. “Well, then maybe I am the only one recognizing real beauty.”

She huffed amused. “Oh, now thou'rt overdoing it.” Knowing how it would fluster him, she added: “By the by, I had this vessel designed after my tutor. I am sure thy pleasantries towards her appearance would amuse her to a great extent.” Ranni remembered the old crone, with all her cussing and choleric glory. Imagining how she would react to coy flattery almost made her laugh again.

Constantine surprised her when he chuckled and smirked. “Hmm, interesting. I have to say, though, that your character only matches your outer beauty. And as far as I know, that is Ranni the witch. It is almost unfair how you are blessed both with outer and inner beauty.”

“I... I... Thou...”, she stuttered, completely at a loss for words. She wanted to cover her face with her hands, hiding a blush that wasn't there. That was until she saw his mischievous smile and realized how he was teasing her. Oh that sly bastard...

Not one to be outplayed at her own game, she looked straight into his eyes. With a slightly smug smirk she leaned forward and softly whispered into his ear: “I thank thee for thy sweet words, my dear.”

She saw the goosebumps all over his upper body and grinned triumphantly. That was exactly the reaction she wanted to elicit. However, in that moment she was painfully aware of how close to each other they were... and how much she enjoyed it. The brim of her large hat doused them both into shadows. If someone were to watch them, they'd no doubt think of them as lovers stealing tender touches from each other under the protection of night.

Ranni leaned back slightly, to look into his eyes again. There was undeniable affection in them, like he was beholding something of indescribable beauty. She felt his warm breath on her skin and she closed her eyes. In this very moment she knew exactly, what those feeling were she harbored for him.

Oh how easy it would be to just close the last distance between their lips. To just give in to that selfish little heart of hers, despite the consequences. Only a few centimeters... A heavy sigh escaped her.

In one last semblance of self restrain she moved a little to the side, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek instead. She felt the rough stubble on her lips and heard him gasp quietly. Underneath her hand, that was still resting on his chest, she felt how his heart was beating even faster. For a moment Ranni worried he might suffer a stroke by how fast the little thing pumped.

Slowly she moved away from him, taking her hand out of his as she stood up. As much as she longed for it, she couldn't allow this situation to escalate any further. Her nonexistent heart screamed at her, wanting to return to his side and kiss him. But she knew better. Her path was meant to be tread alone and giving in to her feelings for the man would only cause heartache for the both of them.

And love... love was just a delusion. She had seen what it had done to her dear mother. No, she would not give in to that sickly sweet temptation. She shouldn't...

“I shall take my leave.” Her voice was back to it's measured self and she saw the confusion in his brown eyes, as he watched her take another step back. “We both ought to heed the task ahead.” Already she missed his warmth close to her.

Constantine stood up. “Ranni...”

She just raised one hand to interrupt him, letting the brim of her hat obscure her features so he wouldn't see how torn she was. “We already wasted enough time, Tarnished. Both thee and I shan't waste any more of it.”

He looked at her like a kicked puppy, confused on what he did wrong to have her react like this. Then he bowed formally. While holding his head lowered, he said: “I understand your reasoning... But... Just know that you don't have to do this all by yourself.” He raised his head, a sad smile on his features. “I hope this is not our last meeting, my Lady. No matter where, I'll always be at your service.”

And with that the last remnants of resistance against the flood of emotions inside of her gave way. She stared at him, this man that had given nothing but loyalty to her. Who had fought against overwhelming odds, all for her. Who looked at her like she was beauty itself.

As a young girl she had loved the tales of knights fighting in the name of their lady. And like any young girl, she had hoped to one day find her very own knight. Kind, valorous and devoted to her. Of course, as she grew older she had realized that those were romanticized fantasies and that reality often looked much less pretty. After Radagon's betrayal on her mother, she even believed every last bit of those tales to be nothing but lies... and yet here she was, her own knight offering his all to her, proving to her that not all was as harsh as she believed. Kind, valorous and devoted to her.

Ranni sighed, unsure if what she was about to do wasn't a big mistake. She held the small key out, for Constantine to take. He looked surprised, then took it carefully out of her hand. His eyes sparked with intrigue, when he inspected the little piece of metal. If only he knew what the meaning of her gift was...

“Find the lock for the key, and we might see each other once more”, she said and upon seeing his questioning look, she chuckled a little. “I am sure, someone of thy prowess wilt have no problem with this task.” And without giving him another chance to talk she teleported away, leaving nothing but a myriad of blue sparks for the Tarnished to look at.

When she took form again, she was standing on the sacred grounds of the Moonlight Altar. What had she just done?! If he found the chest and took the ring... If he'd find her afterwards... Why was she so cruel, inviting Constantine to a journey into the cold darkness? She should've stayed with her original plan.

Forcibly she tried to banish all thoughts of the Tarnished out of her mind and focus on the task ahead. The sensation of his skin still lingered on her lips and she slowly put two fingers to them, as if to hold the feeling there.

Oh she was such a fool...

Chapter Text

“Goodness...”, was all Melina could say when looking over to Constantine. The man, slayer of beasts and demigods, laid on his belly and dreamily stared at the key he held in his hands. Just as she thought things couldn't get any worse, he sighed and put his feet up and swayed them back and forth.

All of a sudden Melina really longed for the flames of the Forge of the Giants. Anything seemed better than watching that love struck fool. An approaching migraine announced itself in the back of her head.

They had set up camp not far from the Mistwoods, the sounds of the close by woods unsettling and promising danger. After having a simple dinner, consisting of stale bread and cured meat, the Tarnished had immediately taken to investigating the key he had received from Ranni the night before.

“You know, her fingers are surprisingly soft. And they feel so pleasant...”, he rambled and Melina pinched the bridge of her nose. “Will you stop, please? I can not take one more second of this.” She had enough.

Constantine blinked as if ripped from a trance and looked at her. “Is it that bad?” At least he was self-aware. She merely nodded. “I only remain here because otherwise I see you ambushed, while you stare at that key.” She chuckled. “Well, at least you would have someone else to talk about how soft her hands are.”

He sighed with a forlorn expression on his face. “They are so soft, though...”

“Constantine”, she interrupted him, before he was able to start raving about Ranni again. “Tough it is amusing to watch you like this, I like to call to memory that we still have a task at hand. I feel if I do not remind you of it, you will stay in this pathetic state for all eternity.”

“Pathetic?”, he yelped indignant and she nodded yet again. “Yes, pathetic. You act like a love sick maiden.”

With a sound of defeat he lowered his head. Melina barely held back her snicker, when she hastily cleared her throat. “I sympathize with your situation and as much as I would love to see this whole... predicament evolve, I have seen enough Tarnished stagnate because of personal affairs.”

“I haven't forgotten our... goal.” A shadow flickered over his face and he was serious again. “How could I?” He sat up straight. “And I promised to help you fulfill your destiny. However, I ask of you to give me a chance to find the lock to this key before we go to the forge.”

Melina raised an eyebrow. “And how are you going to go about finding that mysterious lock?”

He shrugged. “Searching, what else?” The simplicity of his answer infuriated her.

An involuntary sigh from the kindling maiden. “I see... Where are you going to start searching?”

Almost proudly he explained: “When I first encountered Blaidd, he was sitting atop some old ruins here in the Mistwoods. What if he was guarding something, like a chest for example? I had no time properly investigating back then, so who knows...”

Now she understood why they had returned to Limgrave. Chasing after a hunch, like so often... Melina pursed her lips and only barely refrained from shaking her head.

Constantine, watching her reaction, turned the key in his hands and in a quiet voice he said: “The future really doesn't seem that nice... So, to have the possibility of at least a piece of happiness... is it really so pathetic of me to pursue it? Whenever I'm with Ranni, I'm happy...” He looked at her with pain in his eyes. “Allow me to be selfish this time.”

She knew his lot in life wasn't easy and after traveling this long with him, she had grown close to him. Of course she wanted him to be happy. But she also knew that Ranni wouldn't bring him true happiness... How could she? The demigod was a doll, how could she feel anything? A rotten soul in a dead body.

Though she had seen the look of the demigod when she had watched the Tarnished. As much of a skeptic as Melina was, even she couldn't deny the warmth in her blue eye. The question was if it was an act, put up for Constantine to do her bidding, or if Ranni actually felt for him. She doubted it, seeing what the demigod had done in her past. How could such a callous person feel for anyone but herself? “Constantine, I-”

Far in the distance there was a wolf howling in the night. Melina watched as her chosen Tarnished frowned and got to his feet. The howling repeated and his features lit up. “Blaidd!” His face was full of excitement. “Wait here, I'll be right back.” And with that he ran off.

“Constantine! Halt! Argh, this man...” She rubbed her temples and tried to fight down the worsening headache.

--------------------------------------

Constantine followed the howling, until he reached the old Evergaol in which Darriwil once had hid from the wrath of the half-wolf. The sigil in the middle of the round contraption had been inactive after they defeated the traitorous Bloodhound-Knight. Now, though, it was yet again glowing in a soft blue light, indicating that someone was entrapped inside of it.

He touched the sigil and unlocked the Evergaol, releasing it's inhabitant. Blaidd slowly raised from a crouching position, to his full imposing height. His greatsword was fastened to his back, though he had one hand ready on it to draw it at any sign of danger. When he saw Constantine, he lowered his hand. “Ah, it's you.”

“Don't be so casual about this! What happened? How did you end up here?” The Tarnished was confused by this whole situation. How did the Shadow end up here? From what Iji told him, he was under the impression he had been on a mission for Ranni.

Disgruntled, Blaidd stared at the ground and mumbled: “Iji... put me here... Said I would mean nothing but trouble for Ranni. That no matter how much I would try, I couldn't change who I am.”

“Iji is betraying us?” Constantine was alarmed, but the half-wolf shook his head. “No. He is doing what he always did: protecting our Lady.”

“By imprisoning her brother?” Doubt was audible in his voice. For a long moment Blaidd didn't answer, obviously struggling with talking about the whole situation. Then he took a deep breath. “I was created by the Greater Will-”

“Yes, I know. To protect Ranni on her way to become the new God. She told me about it”, he interrupted him, still worked up about the fact that Iji might be a traitor. “That's why I can't understand why Iji would throw you into a prison... It doesn't make sense. You would never harm Ranni and she trusts you deeply, so why...”

“That's exactly the problem. She trusts me to never lay a hand on her... But protecting her isn't the only reason I was created for. My other purpose is to make sure she won't betray the Two Fingers and the Greater Will. And in case she does... I am to... kill her.”

“But she already went against the Greater Will and yet you still support her. Why would you turn against her now?” The Tarnished waited for an answer and when Blaidd delivered it, there was bitterness in his voice. “We were wondering the same. As a creature made to carry out the orders of the Greater Will, how had I been able to resist... I can't tell you why. All I know is, that I would never harm Ranni as long as my thoughts are mine.”

“And Iji fears that you might lose control over your thoughts?” Constantine understood now.

“He was against having me walk freely from the beginning. But Ranni would shut down any protest of his immediately. She trusts me as both her shadow and her brother.” He balled his fist. “Which is why I can never betray her. I rather perish, than ever live in a state where I want to harm her.”

“I believe you. My word might not mean a lot, but still.” The Tarnished smiled reassuringly at the Shadow. The half-wolf put a hand on his shoulder. “It means more than you think. Thanks, mate.” He lifted his hand and turned. “I need to return to the manor... as much as I doubt Iji is up to something, I still have to see if everything is alright.”

“Rest a little, before you go. I don't know how long you have been trapped in that hole, but you must be famished. I put up camp not too far from here. And I could use some company that isn't constantly nagging me to continue.” Constantine was fully aware Melina might hear him, but he really didn't care.

“I could really use something to bite... Well, lead the way then. You better have something good to eat.” They started walking back towards the camp, surprisingly undisturbed by any enemies that might lurk in the dark. The Tarnished chuckled. “I have bread that's as hard as a rock and some cured meat. I hope your noble palate won't be offended.”

Blaidd huffed. “I grew up in a royal household, but I am not picky.”

“Well, I am nonetheless honored to have the lordling dine with me”, he mocked and the half-wolf rolled his eyes. “Tarnished...”

“I have a name now. So if you don't mind... you can call me Constantine from now on.”

“Constantine... Where did you decide to pick up a name? Last we met you didn't care for it.” A look out of pale blue eyes made the Tarnished fidget with his gloved hands. “It's a long story, but while serving her, Ranni gave me the name.”

“I see we have a lot to talk about.” They reached the campsite, where Melina still sat by the flames and absentmindedly sharpened her blade. When she noticed the two men approaching, she put it away.

Blaidd seemed surprised to see the woman. “You didn't mention you have company.” He raised an eyebrow. “You move on fast from a crush...”

Constantine stared at him in shock, but Melina snickered and shook her head. “This fool is so blinded by his feelings he would run against the next tree were it not for me guiding him. Which is what I do, as his maiden.” She rose to her feet and tilted her head in a dignified manner. “I will leave you alone now.”

“Melina you don't have to”, Constantine protested, but she just smirked. “I would not want to disturb with my... nagging.” She winked – or was she just blinking, he couldn't tell – at him, before disappearing in a cloud of blue sparks.

A moment of awkward silence later and Blaidd exhaled loudly. “Yikes. You messed up pretty bad, eh?”

“You have no idea”, he groaned and walked towards Torrent, who was standing not too far from the campfire. “She wants to see me as Elden Lord sooner rather than later and I am taking detours because of... reasons. I understand why she's pissed with me.” He opened one of Torrent's saddle bags and produced some bread and meat from it, but also a dark green bottle.

“Why not just pull off the scab and go for the throne?” He caught the piece of bread the Tarished threw his direction with ease. “After that you still have plenty of time to do whatever.”

“That's exactly the problem... I have no clue what will happen after I plant my ass on the throne”, he said begrudgingly and remembered Ranni's words. If they were to usher in her order... a lot of things would be different. And he would never see her again. Right now he still held the possibility of seeing her, with whatever it was the key she gave him locked away. There was no way he would forfeit this chance of a reunion. “And there are things I have to do first.”

The half-wolf gnawed on the piece of bread and with a full mouth he mumbled: “Why's that?”

“Because if I don't do it now... then maybe I won't have a chance to do it later. I couldn't forgive myself for throwing away the chance given to me.” He opened the bottle in his hand and took a swig. The overwhelmingly sweet taste of honey, combined with the burning sensation of alcohol ran down his throat and he shuddered. After screwing the bottle shut again, he threw it towards Blaidd. “Catch!”

Blaidd caught it effortlessly and looked at the dark green bottle with a frown, before opening it and carefully sniffing. When he took a reluctant swig, he almost coughed and stared at the Tarnished. “Is this...”

“Honey-schnapps, yes. I found it in a house in Leyndell and after all this time it is still good... I think.” Constantine sat down at the campfire and shrugged his shoulders. “It would be a shame to just drink it by myself.”

With a hearty laugh the half-wolf sat down as well. “Now that is an invitation I can't turn down.” He took another sip, this time a little more confident, before handing the bottle to the Tarnished. “Ah, I can't remember when I last had a drink. It's hard to come by a good drop these days.”

Constantine drank without hesitation. “Well, at least you know you drank something at some point in your life.” At that he put the bottle to his mouth again, not pulling a face despite the rather strong taste of alcohol. “You have no idea how frustrating it is to not remember anything.”

“At least you can't miss the past”, was the answer he received and he shrugged. “True.”

The bottle wandered a few times between the two, the mood getting more and more boisterous by the minute. Their speech slurred and their motions lazy and slightly clumsy, they lost themselves in talks about memorable battles they had fought. It was far into the night, when Constantine demanded: “'nough 'bout battles you won. You said you had your fair share of drunk nights, tell me 'bout those! Surely you have some fun stories to tell.”

Blaidd scratched his head and hummed, before his features lit up. “Fine, eh. This one time, I think I was about 16, we sneaked into the wine cellar of the manor to snatch some mead-”

“We?”

“Ranni and I”, he answered and at Constantine's dumbstruck face he laughed. “Ye'd be surprised, but the girl could drink... A lot. Put some of the guards to shame. Twas 'er idea to steal the mead.” Blaidd gesticulated wildly, completely caught up in his story. “So we destroyed the evidence and, drunk as a skunk, we decided to play a little prank on the guards on duty.” Reminiscing about the night, he started laughing. “She froze the walkway and I scared the shit out of the fellows, sending them sliding all over the place. Twas hilarious. Until we got caught by the queen. She had us sober up rather quickly...”

The Tarnished listened and laughed. “The more I hear 'bout our dear Lady, the more I realize that she used to be a true menace.” At that the half-wolf nodded. “Oh most definitely. Nothin' but mischief in 'er head.”

“Shame we couldn't invite her to enjoy the schnapps with us.” After thinking about it, he slightly raised an eyebrow. “Though, come to think, she'd probably not be able to drink... you know, being a spirit in a doll and all.”

The Shadow chuckled and took another swig from the bottle. “She'd drink ye under the table if she still could, mate.”

Constantine smirked and took the bottle from him, taking quite a gulp. “I'd love to see that.” Reminiscing over his mistress, an idea crossed his dazed mind. With sluggish motions he rummaged through his pouch. “Blaidd, have a look at this.” He held the key Ranni gifted to him out.

Blaidd squinted his eyes at first, before basically jolting forward, almost ripping the key out of his hand. With a firm hand he grabbed him by his collar. For a moment all warmness was wiped from his eyes and he stared at him with bared teeth. “Where did you get that key?”

Taken aback by the sudden change in demeanor, he hastily answered. “Ranni... She gave it to me.”

A moment of tense silence passed, in which the Shadow stared into his eyes like he was about to rip his throat out. Then, slowly, he relaxed his grip. “Did she, now...” Constantine could just watch when Blaidd started laughing loudly. It was a cheery laugh, like he didn't just almost attack him.

“I'm sorry mate, it's just... I did not expect 'er to ever give that key to anyone. Ever.” He gave the piece of metal back to the Tarnished. “However, tis always nice to see ones speculations confirmed.” He laughed again.

“So you know what this key unlocks?”

“Yes”, was his answer, before he looked at him in confusion. “Wait, she didn't tell ye where the chest is? Now that's just plain cruel...”

He shook his head. “No, she gave me the key and kinda just left me standing there. She... she promised that I might see her again if I find the lock to the key.” His hands tightened around it. “I would search in every corner of the Lands Between for that chance...”

Now the Shadow really laughed. “Oh goodness, ye poor idiot. She really caught yer heart, didn't she? So that is the thing ye still need to do!” After a moment of thoughtful silence, he said: “I won't tell what exactly what to do... but ye might want to check the academy again.”

Constantine raked his brain for any possible locations inside the grand academy... when he remembered the locked chest in the big library. Of course! He barely refrained from jumping from joy, instead just smiling like a maniac. “That's it, Blaidd! Thank you!”

“By the moon... ye really feel for 'er, eh?”

“Honestly, how could I not? She... she is just so amazing. So cunning. So incredibly beautiful... I... I...” With a heavy sigh he fell on his back, looking up at the stars before stretching his hand towards the almost full moon. Swept up in the moment, and his tongue loosened by the alcohol, he sighed: “I love her.”

His view of the moon was blocked, when Blaidd looked down at him. “Ye said what?”

Realizing what he just said, he quickly sat up. He immediately regretted it, when his head started spinning worse than before. “Nothin'.” Desperately he tried to not throw up.

“Bollox”, the half-wolf grinned a toothy smile. “Ye love 'er? Do ye mean it?”

Constantine took another swig from the bottle, despite still feeling like he would throw up any second. “Does it even matter? There is no way she could love a Tarnished.” He sighed and his drunken stupor was overshadowed by melancholy. “How could she ever love me...”, he mumbled. “She is a princess. A God to be. And I-”

“Ye're a love blind fool.” The shadow huffed. “If ye knew what gift she made ye with that key...” Blaidd took the bottle out of his hand and took two daring swigs. Then he got to his feet, towering above the Tarnished, still smiling his slightly unsettling smile. “Come. We'll howl at the moon.”

Swaying back and forth, Constantine got to his feet. “Eh?”

“We'll howl at the moon. Tis quite liberating. And it'll take yer mind off of stupid thoughts.” Blaidd slapped him against his shoulder, almost sending him keeling over. “Whenever I feel all doom and gloom, I howl at the moon.”

“Well you're a wolf. And I am not. Wolfs howl at the moon. Humans do not. Wouldn't it be weird if I did...”

“If your ilk would pull the stick out of yer arse you'd see that keeping all those feelings down isn't good for ye.” He sighed exasperated. “Stop thinking for a moment, about the future and all that shit. Just live now.”

Constantine stared at him, before awkwardly shrugging his shoulders. “So how do you...”

Without letting him finish his sentence, Blaidd raised his head and howled loudly. After letting the long drawn tone die down, he turned to the other man and grinned. “Like that. Now ye!”

Despite being quite drunk, the Tarnished felt silly when he raised his head towards the moon and howled. However, the longer he held the sound, the lighter he felt. The Shadow was right, it really helped to just make some noise and shout into the night.

Blaidd burst out laughing. “Ye sound like someone's pulling on yer balls. Do it with more gusto!” To underline his words, he joined in by howling himself.

While the two howled into the night, disrupted only when they had to catch breath or laugh loudly, Melina appeared besides Torrent. The steed watched the unfolding events with flicking ears. As the kindling maiden scratched him under his chin, she said: “You picked him. This is solely your responsibility for choosing a sentimental fool.”

As an answer Torrent neighed loud and long drawn towards the moon and Melina just shook her head. “Men.”

Chapter Text

“Constantine.” A voice called for him, but he couldn't really raise his head. His whole body – though his head especially – was one pain. The memories of last night were muddy and dazed, he wouldn't be able to completely recall it even if he wanted to. His cheek was resting in something wet and the smell of brackish water was surrounding him. He tried sinking back into sleep.

“Constantine.” That voice again. Melina. Couldn't she see that he was clearly not in a state to continue right now? Was she so eager to get burned to a crisp? Not even a fraction of a second after thinking that he felt bad for being so callous.

“Oh by the Erdtree, move your arse you drunkard!” There was the sound of splashing water, before he was jolted completely awake by being drenched by it. Gasping he sat up quickly, before grabbing his head with a groan. “What the fuck, Melina?!” Sunlight hit him and hurt in his eyes, so he covered his face with a hand.

The kindling maiden glared down at him, her brow furrowed. “It is noon”, was all she said. After adjusting his eyes somewhat to the brightness, he took a look around. They were nowhere near the Mistwoods anymore... instead it was rather clear they were in Liurnia, close to the Academy of Raya Lucaria. “How...”

“You and the half-wolf decided to go here to use that key the demigod gave you.” Melina answered before he was even able to formulate the question. “Until you passed out. The shadow asked me to watch over you, whilst he return to Caria Manor.”

Constantine scratched his stubble. “Oh... thanks for taking care...” The embarrassment sat deep in his bones and he wanted to drown himself in the finger deep water he was sitting in. Melina's features softened a bit, when she saw his expression. “You snored so loudly, I doubt anything would have attacked you. Any foe probably thought you a great beast.” When he groaned from embarrassment, she chuckled and offered her hand to help him to his feet. “Up up, great slayer of alcohol bottles. The Academy is waiting.”

--------------------------------------

It felt like he had been away for just a few hours, not more than a week, when he stepped through the seal to Raya Lucaria. Though, this time he didn't waste hours with exploring the many rooms and hallways, but instead directly headed towards the great library. Constantine felt quite satisfied with his grown power, as he noticed how much easier it was for him to dispose of the enemies in his way.

Just as he had passed the almost free floating set of stairs leading up to the elevator, he heard a familiar voice call out: “Tarnished!” Moongrum came running towards him, his helmet concealing his face. “What business hast thou this time? Didst thou return to harm the queen at last?”

A little annoyed about the accusation, the Tarnished shook his head. “Of course not. I am here because I want to retrieve an item the Lunar Princess has left me here.”

The knight cocked his head slightly. “What might she leave here of all places? She never hath been seen here after... that night. Surely someone is fooling thee, Tarnished.”

He pulled out the intricate key. “I don't think he would lie.” When Moongrum came a little closer to see the key himself, he put a hand to his iron clad chin. “Ah, the crest of house Caria. Curious...”

“There is a locked chest in the library and I am certain the key will fit the lock of it.” Absentmindedly he let his thumb caress over the crest, before he looked at the knight before him. “If you insist, you can join me to make sure I won't harm Rennala.”

“The queen”, he corrected him, clearly displeased with his informal way of speaking about the woman. “And yes, I will joint thee. Forgive my distrust, but thou art Tarnished after all. I do not know if thy word is worth relying on.”

“Constantine. My name is Constantine.”

“Last we met...” Moongrum crossed his arms in front of his chest, then shrugged his shoulder. “So be it, Constantine. Let us proceed then.”

Together they used the elevator, taking them up to the entrance of the library. As they stepped into the dimly lit room, the queen only haphazardly raised her head before almost immediately lowering it again to stare at the amber egg in her arms. Still there was no trace of the juvenile scholars that had surrounded her the last time.

Moongrum bowed deep before her. “I brought a visitor, my queen. He will not disturb thee unduly.”

She didn't even raise her gaze for a second at his words and Constantine heard a quiet sigh emerge from underneath the helmet of the Carian knight. The sorrow in it was undeniable. Sympathetically the Tarnished put a hand on his shoulder. “I'm sorry.”

“She is still there... I refuse to believe her to be gone.” Moongrum took his helmet off, revealing a face marred by sorrow and sadness. “Hadst thou seen her on the battlefield... Majestic is the only word coming to mind.” He cleared his throat. “I vowed to protect her majesty until the day I draw my last breath. And regardless her state, I will remain at her side.”

“You are a good man, Ser Moongrum.” Leaving the knight standing before his queen, he approached the chest standing besides a stack of books. With anticipation tingling up and down his spine, he carefully put the key to the lock. Without any difficulties he was able to open the chest. Inside it was one single item, almost seeming lost in the large chest. A ring.

Gingerly he picked it up, inspecting it in the twilight of the library. It was made of silver, the band not completely closed on the backside. Intricate swirls and frills were painstakingly engraved into the metal. The centerpiece was a single gem of a dark blue color and permeated by an almost back texture. It reminded him of the moon.

While he marveled at the piece of jewelry, he wondered all the same what the meaning of this was. How would this ring help him to find Ranni again? Constantine walked back towards Moongrum, showing him the ring. “That was the item Ranni left me.”

With the sound of clattering metal he let his helmet drop to the ground. His blue eyes wide with shock, he stared at the Tarnished. “Hast thou any idea... The meaning of this gift... Oh my.”

Confused by the reaction, Constantine raised an eyebrow. “Do you mind explaining?”

The knight took a deep breath, seeming surprisingly moved for some reason. “It is a proposal. House Caria is a matriarchy, so it demands that the Lady would choose her consort by her own merits...”

“H-hold up... consort?!”, the Tarnished stuttered. “As in husband? As in partner? As in...” He felt his brain was failing him, as the realization of the meaning of this gift sank in. Ranni was asking him to marry her... The Lunar Princess was asking a lowly Tarnished to become her consort. He knew that this was her odd way of answering his question if she'd allow him to court her. Apparently she was more than just allowing it.

His worries he had been too pushy at their last meeting evaporated. She liked him too! His heart jumped in his chest and he felt a stupidly wide grin spread across his features. Moongrum, still in disbelieve, shook his head. “Tis... Never had I thought... The princess finally found her match.”

“Goodness, she actually does feel for you”, Melina mumbled behind the two and they both flinched from the sudden appearance of the woman. Moongrum drew his sword, but the Tarnished was quick to push it down. “She means no harm. It's just a habit of hers to appear out of thin air.” With a reprimanding look he added: “A bad habit, might I say.”

The knight eyed the unimpressed kindling maiden distrustful, but ultimately put his sword back into its sheath. Meanwhile she looked at Constantine with utter disbelieve in her eye. “You swayed a demigod. I had your measure wrong all along. Apparently you bring some of them to the blade, while you bed others. Was that the reason you were missing your shirt after the last meeting of the two of you?”

Immediately he turned red, especially when he felt Moongrum's judging gaze on him. “I- I did not... we didn't... Melina !” Indignantly he stared at her, while she started laughing. “Oh I almost wish for Ranni to be here, so she could witness this.”

“Ranni...”, a sorrowful sigh made them turn their attention to Rennala. She clutched the amber egg to her chest, tears in the corners of her eyes. “My poor little sweeting. If only I had seen thy pain before twas too late.”

Constantine approached her slowly, feeling Moongrum's watchful gaze on his back. With slow and careful movements he took the amber egg out of her hands, her protest to it rather weak. And as the egg left her embrace, her eyes cleared again, like they had in their fight. She looked up at him, as if she just now really noticed him. “Thou... I remember thee.”

“Our last meeting had been rather unpleasant. I apologize for that.” Intently he looked into her eyes. “But I need you to understand, your majesty; Ranni is not gone. She shed her flesh, so she would be able to shape her own fate without the influence of the Greater Will. However, her soul lives on.”

Rennala lowered her eyes, before murmuring: “I cannot determine if thou art telling the truth... But if it is the truth thou speakest, then it is even worse. For it means mine own daughter doth not trust me enough to confide in me. Not once hath she tried to seek me.” She reached for the amber egg, trying to pry it from his hands. “I rather exist in oblivion, than to know my little one despises me.”

He remembered the pain in Ranni's voice, when she told him about her mother. No, it was not hatred she felt towards the queen. It was helplessness. “She doesn't despise you...”

“Too much time hath pass. My wounds... they are too deep.” Constantine let her take the amber from him, feeling sorry for her and unsure of what to do. “Let me slumber, Tarnished. Do not torture me with things no longer mine.” She pressed the egg against her chest again, averting her gaze entirely from him. Retreating into herself, into that safe space she created for herself to protect what little was left of her.

It was impossible for him to imagine how much she must hurt. With a heavy sigh he stepped back from her. “I tried...”, he said towards Moongrum, but he shook his head. “As did I so many times over. Constantine, tis better to leave her like this. For the alternative... it would destroy her.”

“You are probably right.” With a heavy heart he looked at the queen. “It is just so unjust. Fate just swoops in and with no thought wasted there are whole existences snuffed out. From commanding an army... to this. All because of fate.” His eyes darted towards Melina, who returned his gaze with unwavering determination. He remembered his words from the night before and felt like the weight on his heart would crush it any moment. The ring in his hand felt heavy.

“It is time for us to go, I guess”, he whispered, his eyes still fixated on his companion. “No use to postpone the inevitable.”

Why was it, that any spark of joy ultimately was suffocated by fate?

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Soft eyes were staring at her, their color a warm brown with black specks in them. Barely visible, there was a shimmer of gold in them. A last remnant of fading Grace, holding on to a man that had no intention of furthering the will of the Erdtree. The once nameless Tarnished warrior, that had managed to acquire three Great Runes from demigods by slaying them in fierce battle.

Constantine had little problem to fell the Fire Giant, though Melina expected as much. The creature was old and weakened by centuries of slavery in the name of Marika. Littered with deep wounds, a lame leg and fading power, it had been only a matter of time before someone would slay it.

With the guarian of the forge discarded, there was only one thing left to do for her: set the Erdree ablaze. Watch the golden monument of a fading order burn down.

She was siting across from Constantine at the Site of Grace, returning his gaze with a hint of sadness. It was strange. Despite knowing that this was her fate, she still felt sad for the man sitting there. She was aware that it would scar him. The prospect of death didn't scare her, she was fine with giving herself up and maybe buying the Lands Between another chance at flourishing. But it was still not easy to go that last step.

She drew breath, the ashy taste of the air laying heavy on her tongue. “I have long observed the Lands Between. This world is in dire need of repair... and death... indiscriminate. So, Constantine. Are you prepared? To commit a cardinal sin?” Her words were steady. Final.

For a few moments he didn't answer, before he spoke, his voice choked and permeated by pain: “I-I am sorry, Melina. I wish there was any other way... I wish I would be stronger.”

She shook her head and softly cupped his face with her hands. “Don't say that, you stupid man. I told you this is my wish. My fate.” Tears were brimming in his eyes and she couldn't help but smile. “O Constantine... your heart is too good for this world. And yet it is exactly what it needs. Promise me you will change things for the better.”

Through tears, now rolling down his cheeks, he smiled weakly. “Of course... I promise you.”

Melina wiped away a tear. Carefully she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, my friend.” And with that she let her magic take its course and he slumped in his kneeling position. He was unconscious, at least for a few moments. She didn't want him to watch.

Her movement was methodical, almost stiff, when she stood up and turned towards the forge. Her one open eye fixated on the Erdtree looming over her, she took a few steps forward. The flames of the forge reacted, almost as if they had a mind of their own and recognized her and the purpose her existence had. They roared and rose to new heights, stretching for her like a friend eager to hold her.

The black cloak she was wearing swayed in the hot air, as she stretched out her scarred hands towards the flames and greedily they accepted her offer. It didn't hurt. Her body was just an illusion, made manifest for her to interact with the living world.

While the flames engulfed her, she thought about that maybe Ranni and her weren't so different after all. Both lost their body. And both were pursuing a solution for the ongoing decay of the Lands Between. Sacrificing everything they had. As she started to feel a spike of sympathy in her chest, Melina sighed. “He made me soft.”

Anchoring her thought on her current situation, she raised her hands towards the Erdtree and solemnly said: “O Erdtree, you shall burn.” And with that there were flames in the crown of the great tree. First only small spots, barely visible from afar. But only seconds later they spread, the fiery fate of the tree sealed. It would burn, until only ashes remained. “Burn, for the sake of the new Lord.”

Slowly she lowered her hands, her final task done. Melina knew she only had a few moments left, before there would be nothing left of her. The flames roared in her ears.

She turned to Constantine, looking at his slouched over form and a sharp pain pierced her heart. It was her fate to walk this path... but a selfish part, buried deep down, didn't want to leave his side. She wanted to stay with him, have adventures, explore the Lands Between, have banters at campfires...

Melina closed her eye and composed herself. “Thank you. For guiding me here.” At first she wanted to touch him one last time, but then she called to mind that the flames would devour him just as hungrily as they did her. So she just raised her right towards the sky, opening the path to the ancient city beyond time. “The one who walks alongside flame, shall one day meet the road of Destined Death.”

Constantine had still a long way before him, the fights awaiting him only more challenging than what he faced before... but she knew he would manage. Despite his kind nature, he was a skilled fighter and surprisingly ruthless when it came to his enemies. Even in light, there was darkness.

As she faded away, she smiled. “Goodbye. Constantine, my friend.”

Chapter Text

Farum Azula was a strange place, with it's ancient ruins and floating islands. Each wrong step promised an endless fall to certain doom. The brightness all around was almost blinding, hurting in the eyes. Adding to a constant sense of discomfort were the stormy winds that howled through the city with a deafening volume. It took him quite some time, before Constantine was able to proceed without squinting his eyes from the unpleasant sensory input.

His situation reminded him a lot of his first days as a Tarnished. Waking up in a place he didn't know, no explanation on what to do and just thrown into the fray without a word of warning. The beastmen, some of them alive and some undead, posed a new threat Constantine hadn't encountered before. Their style of fighting was wild and unpredictable. He lost his life more than once on his way to the grand bridge.

Of course he had called for Melina when he sat down at the first site of Grace he found. And of course she didn't appear. His frail hope that she might yet live shattered. The feeling of loss was sitting deep in the pit of his stomach. But he refused to stagnate, fighting on and pushing his grieve to the back of his mind. He would mourn her, once all of this was over.

But fate would test his strength again, when he ran into Alexander while exploring Farum Azula. The warrior jar greeted him in his usual cheery manner, congratulating him on his victory against the Fire Giant. Constantine was happy to see him and talk with the warrior jar. They caught up on all the things that had happened since their last meeting at Redmane Castle and shared a few laughs.

As he looked over the vista before him, the Tarnished enjoyed this short moment of respite. That was, until Alexander sighed. “What a place we find ourselves in. Magnificent, don't you agree?” The jar crossed his arms. “You are a one-of-a-kind warrior, Constantine. Felling demigods and legends like it is nothing. Truly, there are only few that could claim such strength. And if I might allow myself this vanity, I count myself, the great Alexander, among those few. Which means, I've but one thing to ask of you.” He sounded solemn. “Would you kindly undertake my ordeal?”

“What do you mean?” Constantine was confused and the jar guffawed. “Fight with me, my friend! Let us find out who of us is the greater warrior.”

The image of how Alexander had shoved that knight into his vessel crossed his mind and he shuddered. “I-I rather not...”

“I insist! Make your preparations and come to me when you are ready.” The jar gave him a slight shove and the Tarnished frowned. “Why? I am not opposed to a little sparring, but a full on fight... what if I damage you beyond repair? Remember what happen at our fight against Radahn.”

“There is nothing more I can do to steel my vessel. I have to be ready, there is no sense in sparring. Do you not consider me worthy of a fight to the end?”

He clicked his tongue and sighed. “Don't say things like that, you know that is not the truth. I merely don't want to hurt you.”

“You are a good man, Constantine. But unless you commit to a real fight, I don't care for what you have to say.” Alexander crossed his arms again and turned away from him. “I am here if you change your mind.”

“This is not fair...” He grumbled, but drew his blade. “But if this is your wish, so be it. I learned that it is senseless to argue with people that are set on following a fate leading them to their doom.” With a grim expression he got into a fighting stance. “Give me your best, Iron Fist Alexander.”

“Don't be so sure of your victory just yet, Constantine!” The warrior jar laughed and got into a fighting stance himself. “Lend me strength, O warriors within! Let us become one champion, together!” With full force he let his fist crash into the ground, sending pieces of rock flying.

Constantine jumped back, to not get hit by the projectiles, before gripping the hilt of his greatsword firmly with his right. He let his sword jolt forward, right towards the warrior jar. The blade scraped over the hard surface, barely leaving a mark and the knock-back from impact was hard enough to break Constantine's wrist. The greatsword fell to the ground, when it slipped from his numb fingers. With a howl of pain he held the broken wrist and backed away.

Alexander jumped forward, in an effort to close the distance between them and get a few good hits in. The Tarnished managed to evade the attacks, each swing harboring enough force to smash in his ribcage despite the armor he was wearing.

In an effort to disrupt the balance of his opponent, he kicked him. But it only managed to give the jar an opportunity to grab his leg and snap his ankle. Constantine fell to the ground and saw stars before his eyes from the pain, a slight feeling of terror creeping up his spine. Losing would mean being devoured by the living jar. Becoming part of the organic goop inside of it. A horrifying fate.

He saw how Alexander was getting ready to jump again, probably to crush him under his weight. Quickly he rolled to the side, barely avoiding being turned into mush. His foot caught on something heavy and when Constantine looked down, he saw his sword. His right hand was still unusable, so he picked the heavy weapon up with his left. It felt off, but it was better than nothing.

Still laying on the ground, he turned on his back, just to see Alexander approach once more. Maybe it was the adrenaline that heightened his senses, but just now did he really perceive the deep cracks in the vessel of the jar. Remnants of their fierce fight against General Radahn.

Constantine tightened the grip around his sword, waiting for the right moment. Then, when Alexander was close enough, he jolted forwards once more, aiming the tip of the greatsword directly at the damage. This time the steel didn't just bounce off the vessel, but sank deep through the already existing crack. The warrior jar froze and with all the strength he could muster, the Tarnished twisted his sword and forced the crack to expand. The vessel broke open, foul smelling liquid oozing to the ground.

Alexander stumbled back with a sound of surprise, before keeling backwards and landing on his back. The crack expanded further. He made no efforts to get back to his feet, instead saying: “As I suspected... Victory... was impossible. This vessel... was found lacking.”

Constantine reached for his flask of Crimson Tears and took two swigs, now that he finally wasn't under attack anymore. With two rather loud popping sounds his bones and joints reconnected and he was able to get to his feet again. He looked at the warrior jar. “I'm sorry...”

“Oh don't say that! This fight was exactly what I wanted. I knew you were the stuff of champions.” He heaved a dry laugh, as the cracks all over his body expanded. “You have my thanks. It was a marvelous battle.”

A sorrowful sigh escaped the Tarnished. “Another corpse left in my wake.”

Alexander's voice was soft, in an effort to ease the mind of the man. “All vessels are destined to one day break. It is an inevitability. The choice is how we break. And the great Alexander lived as a warrior to his last, thanks to you my friend!” He started laughing again and finally the cracks were just too many and he broke apart.

For a long moment Constantine remained still besides the shards that once had been his friend. His gaze directed towards the ruins, the blinding light of Farum Azula shining on his face. “A warrior to his last, indeed.”

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“It really feels like the end of the world”, Constantine mumbled, his legs dangling over nothing but an endless drop. He sat just outside a small room with a site of Grace in it, to his left was a small staircase leading up to the bridge he had been trying to reach this whole time. Were he just a regular man, he might've felt tempted to jump. But as a Tarnished, he knew he would just wake up at the Grace again. No easy way out.

He felt lonely like he never had before. Losing two friends in such short time... it left a mark on his soul. And both deaths happen due to him. Maybe the people were right to treat the Tarnished with disdain, seeing as they left nothing but death in their wake.

Constantine turned the ring in his hands, watching it glimmer in the almost blinding light of Farum Azula. He held on to the ring and the hope it promised him, like his life depended on it. Whoever thou mayest be, take not the ring from this place, the solitude beyond the night is better mine alone. It was a fine engraving on the inside of the band that he had overlooked for an embarrassingly long time. A warning. Ranni had said that her goal was to leave this Land in complete solitude... And she still left him the option to back out of it and avoid sharing that fate with her.

His fingers caressed over the metal and he slowly felt a little better. He was not completely alone. And neither would she be at the end of it all. The decision to join her was long made, there were few things that could deter him.

With a little sigh he got to his feet, going up the stairs towards the great walkway heading towards the giant building in the middle of Farum Azula. Something told him, that what he was looking for was inside the structure. All he had to do was enter it. Easy.

An imposing figure atop a fully armored horse emerged from the archway. The style of armor both the rider and the horse wore was rather unique. A Draconic Tree Sentinel. Constantine had faced one of them once before, right before entering Leyndell. He had learned quite a few lessons from that fight. The main one being, that dragon thunder hurt and burned very painfully.

The Tarnished slowly approached his new opponent with cautious steps. Of course there would be another obstacle in his way before he could reach the end. The Tree Sentinel readied his weapon and shield, striking an intimidating figure. Behind the enemy was the entrance to the building Constantine was trying to reach. And unlike the bridge, that was surprisingly wide for a bridge but still narrow for a fierce fight, the center of the building offered a lot of space. A thought formed in his mind...

Just as the Sentinel got ready to attack him, Constantine took off running. He ran as fast as he could, past the obviously flabbergasted enemy and towards the big opening. If he was able to lure his opponent here, then the fight would get a lot easier. And since Torrent didn't listen to his calls as long as he was in Farum Azula, he had to get any advantage he could get.

He felt how the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, as there was static energy building around him. With a curse he jumped forward, barely avoiding getting hit by the red lightning striking behind him. When he finally managed to enter the building, he immediately turned around to face his enemy.

The Sentinel remained just outside the archway, not entering. He just stared at the Tarnished, not even trying to hit him with lightning. A little confused by that, Constantine frowned and quickly put a hand to his blade. A deep voice, like stone grading over stone, called out to him: “Thou, who approacheth Destined Death. I will not have it stolen from me again.” When the Tarnished turned around, he saw the Beast Clergyman Gurranq. He only had a fleeting meeting with the beast, never pursuing the request of it.

“You... Weren't you in Caelid? How did you end up here...” Constantine watched the hooded behemoth approach him, clearly with murderous intent. His blade already in his hands, he got onto a fighting stance. So... was this what Melina had intended? Have him face Gurranq and obtain Destined Death?

He of course had heard of Destine Death, the Rune of Death that had been removed from the Elden Ring by Marika, so that true and final death could no longer be obtained. A fragment of said Rune had been used to infuse the knives of the assassins that would kill Godwyn the Golden... or at least wipe out his soul. One of those knives had killed the Lunar Princess, be it I body only. Two powerful beings felled, with merely a fragment of the power the Rune harbored.

Obtaining the Rune and returning natural death back to the Lands Between... he wondered if that was really a good idea, after centuries without it. When the Clergyman threw a rock after him, he decided that now wasn't the right moment to think about that.

A fierce battle commenced, Gurranq using his beast abilities to keep Constantine moving and leaving him little room to attack himself. Each time he dared to strike, the creature evaded his hits with nimble movements. Soon enough the Tarnished was struggling to keep his breath even, sweat running down his temple.

After evading a vicious strike of the beast, he managed to get close to his opponent and strike for his left hand. In disregard of any protection, he quickly pressed said hand to his body, allowing Constantine to land a critical hit to his chest. Gurranq tumbled backwards, holding the gaping wound and heavily breathing. There was a slight rasp in his breath, the wound was apparently really deep.

With blood dripping to the ground, he looked down to his left claw, where a gust of wind had moved the fabric of his robes and revealed a silver medallion with a single blood-red gem embedded in it. In a solemn voice he said: “O, death. Become my blade, once more.” And with that he raised his dagger and rammed it into his left, shattering the medallion by doing so. Red and black flames broke free, emerging from the blade he had used to pierce his hand, and crawling up his body.

His simple cloth robe burned to ashes, revealing an ornate armor made out of black steel with golden embroidery at it's edges. Slowly he pulled the blade out of his hand again, though now it was much bigger and coated in black and red flames. He got to two feet, roaring in such a primeval way that it had all of Constantine's instincts set on flight. A gray mane swayed in the wind, as the beast faced him once more, his features covered by a pointy visor.

“By my name as Maliketh, Marika's Black Blade, I shall make thee regret conspiring against the Golden Order.” His black eyes fixed on the Tarnished, the beast started attacking. The first few swings missed Constantine, but then he got hit on his arm and he gasped in absolute shock. An incredible cold washed through him, yet it felt like he was consumed by flames at the same moment.

He recoiled, his heart stuttering from the shock and... sheer panic. Something deep down told him, should he die by that blade then there was no coming back. Destined Death. Even Tarnished didn't stand above that, Grace be damned. Everyone had to bow to the indiscriminate power of Death, even Gods.

“Fuck...” Constantine took a sip from his flask of Crimson Tears, the wound on his arm closed fast, much to his relief. A valuable lesson for a surprisingly cheap price. He rolled his shoulders and nodded. “Alright. Here goes nothing.”

It was strange. Despite this fight being a matter of life and death, he felt invigorated like he rarely had. The stakes were high, a mistake could mean that everything he had done up until now was for nothing. All the blood he and his friends shed, just wasted because of one wrong step. Terrible odds stood against him, but Constantine couldn't help but smile.

The constant exchange of blows and parries, the sound of metal scraping against metal and the heavy breaths of the fighters... it was like a dance. Flames swirling around them, as Maliketh's blade left them with each swing. A dance on the verge of death, separated from it only by the blood racing through their veins and their beating hearts.

Each of them had to prove something. Constantine had to persevere, so his friends didn't die in vain and he was able to see the woman that stole his heart again. Maliketh had to persevere, so he wouldn't ever disappoint the Empyrean he was created for. Each of them unwilling to give in.

And then the Black Blade was too slow to parry one of the Tarnished's strikes against his stomach. The steel sank into the flesh, impaling the beast. Maiketh trembled, his blade slipping from his fingers. “Witless Tarnished... Why covet Destined Death? To kill what?” The Shadow dissolved into ash, carried away by the wind of Farum Azula. Only a black mist remained, that concentrated I the middle of the room. A glowing red cross formed inside the mist, reminding him a little of the crosses used to crucify heretics.

Constantine approached the Rune with a certain reverence. Death indiscriminate. He stretched his hand out to touch it, when it reacted to him. Red and black flames flared up, first stretching towards the sky, before crushing down and cloaking him in it. His body was filled by searing pain, as the flames burned his skin. He wanted to scream, but the sound died in his throat. And then, before he was even able to move...

Darkness.

When he opened his eyes again, he half expected to find himself back at the site of Grace in Farum Azula. The bitter taste of ash was laying on his tongue and he coughed with a disgruntled expression. There was an incredible heat all around, drying out his throat and burning in his eyes. Confused he took a look around, at a loss on where he was now.

The Erdtree stood tall and proud besides him, though there was a rather remarkable change to it. It burned. The whole gigantic thing, coated in flames that hungrily gnawed at the sacred wood. Constantine sat in a desert of ash that stretched far into the distance, only singular structures barely poking out of it... the golden shingles unmistakably indicating that he was in Leyndell.

“Damn Melina, I thought you only wanted to burn those thorns...” With a sound of exhaustion he got to his feet. He saw the palace a little up a hill of ash, completely aware that the Erdtree was now open for him to enter. If he wanted, he could end his journey right now. Become Elden Lord and rule the Lands Between.

His hand slipped into his pocket and he pulled out the ring he had retrieved from Raya Lucaria. A smile spread across is face and he closed his hand around the ring It was time for him to return to the Ainsel and follow the lead of a certain demigoddess.

Who knew where it might lead him?

Chapter Text

“Torrent, I beg of you... You can't just leave me hanging here!” Constantine stared at his companion with a pleading expression. The steed huffed agitated and threw his mane in a gesture of denial. It was clear he wasn't willing to relent this time. “Rowa Raisins! All the Rowa Raisins I can get! Even those with the frost on it. Come on, I know you love those.”

The spectral steed merely turned his head from him and the Tarnished sighed. Ahead of him was a literal lake of toxic slush, the fumes emerging from it alone were enough to agitate his lungs and eyes. The longer he remained in this hellish cavern, the worse he felt. Only one place was remotely as bad at this, and that was the swamp of Aeonia.

Though unlike the time in Caelid, Torrent was unwilling to help him through the hazardous liquid, much to Constantine's dismay. He didn't know why his companion was being this stubborn. Though judging from the way the steed had stomped his hoofs, it had probably something to do with getting them dirty.

Annoyed he pulled on the reigns, trying to pull his companion towards the shore of the lake. “Stupid... stubborn... donkey.” Offended by those words, Torrent made a quick jump forward, sending the Tarnished tumbling.

Face first he landed in the toxic fluid, his skin and especially his eyes burning like someone had set them ablaze. “My eyes! Urgh! Oh Grace it's in my mouth!” Hastily he crawled back to the site of Grace next to a rotten tree, heaving from the foul taste in his mouth. He reached the healing influence of it, just as his eyesight left him completely.

After the corroded nerves had healed, he stared at Torrent with horror as he whispered: “It tasted so horrible...” At that he got a decisive stomp of a hoof as an answer. He nodded and crossed his arms. “Fine, fine! Have it your way, I won't have you carry me across.” Thoughtfully he scratched his stubbly chin. “But how do I get across this cesspool?”

Raking his brain, he came up with a few possible ways to cross the lake. He could go full force, running through the ankle deep slush and chew on all the preserving boluses he had in his pouch. Alternatively he could search for a way around the lake... though the whole cavern system beneath the Lands Between was one labyrinth, finding a passage by sheer luck was rather unlikely.

“O Ranni, why this... What is wrong with a nice meadow? Or at least a clear lake?” Frustrated he chewed on his lower lip, before he sighed in resignation. He really didn't want to catch Scarlet Rot... he remembered how the illness had liquidated his organs in a matter of minutes the last time he caught it. Coughing up pieces of his own lung was an experience he really didn't want to relive, if possible.

Constantine knew there was someone he could ask for an alternative route. A certain, all-knowing douche that loved to throw snippy comments at his head whenever he had a question. Not thrilled in the slightest, he whined: “This is all your fault, Torrent!” The steed neighed and rolled his eyes, clearly unsympathetic for his human's suffering.

--------------------------------------

Seeing the Roundtable Hold set ablaze took Constantine by surprise. He hadn't expected that the consequences of burning the Erdtree would stretch even to this place. Most of the residents had fled the Hold, only few remained. Either too stubborn to leave the sanctuary, or wrapped up in some last preparations before leaving.

Sir Gideon Ofnir scoffed when he saw Constantine march into his study, apparently more than annoyed by his visit. He was in the process of packing a big leather bag, that was already quite full with scrolls and books. “You.”

“Love what you did to the place, Gideon.” He was past trying to be courteous to the old man. Experience had shown him, that he would get an answer nonetheless. The all-knowing couldn't allow some lowly, nameless Tarnished to put his wisdom into question, after all.

“You are a nuisance... But at least you're trying to get things done. I have to acknowledge that.” Gideon put another scroll into the bag. “You found a way past the thorns, I have to congratulate you. Though it would've been preferable if you hadn't burn down the whole Roundtable Hold by doing so.” He raised his gaze for a second. “What brings you here anyways, Tarnished?”

“Constantine. My name is Constantine. And I was wondering how well you know the cavern system around the Ainsel... Especially that giant lake made up completely of pestilence.”

“Oh-ho, look here! You got yourself a name!” There was undeniable mockery in the old man's voice. “But what business do you have in those damp caves, Constantine? The Elden Throne awaits. I myself are just about to depart to go there.”

“There is something I have to do first”, he answered vaguely. There was absolutely no need to tell the other Tarnished about his plans. Gideon surprised him, when he laughed a wooden sounding laugh. “Do you know why they call me the all-knowing? Because I have my eyes and ears everywhere. There are only few things happening in the Lands Between that elude me. So, despite the pathetic tries of you to hide it, I know that this something you have to do, is probably linked to the Lunar Princess.”

Constantine kept his mouth shut, merely looking at the other man with a weary gaze. Had they been spied on the whole time? How didn't he notice anything? What else did that slippery bastard know?

“O Constantine, now don't look at me like that! When you started telling me about Seluvis, I knew immediately that you met the Lunar Princess. I have to keep all my little sheep in check, and you were quite the promising candidate. That of course changed after you fell for the scheming doll.” He closed the leather bag, lifting it from the table. “You think you are special, but she merely played you. A gullible dog to do her bidding and take care of the grunt-work. Ask yourself this: how can a doll feel?”

“Do not dare to talk ill about her.” There was an unspoken threat in his voice, but the old man didn't care. “Did she touch you at your special place, or why are you so willing to kneel before her? The Lunar Princess discarded her Great Rune, so there is no other reason as to why you would be so loyal to her. There is nothing to be gained from following the mad demigod.”

Disgusted by the chauvinism and simultaneously enraged by the sheer disrespect, Constantine reached over the table and grabbed Gideon at his collar. “Shut your mouth.”

“You would throw away your chance at unparalleled power, just to fondle a doll? You spent too much time with Seluvis”, he spat.

“Unlike you old fuck she's trying to bring a real change to the Lands Between. All you want is to return to your status quo, where your wrinkly ass can sit back in cushioned chairs and watch the masses suffer in a fractured world.” With rage fueling him, he pushed the old man away. Gideon almost fell, but caught himself barely. “Change? Ha, use your brain you love-blind fool! What good is change, if it only brings forth even more suffering?”

In an agitated motion he straightened his cloak. “The Greater Will is one of many. Your mistress wants to usurp it, but as soon as the position gets free, another God will follow. And believe me when I say, that the Greater Will is a benevolent God compared to what awaits in the endless realms beyond.” When he saw Constantine hesitate, he scoffed. “You know so little, and yet you have the audacity to decide for us all? Ask the Lunar Princess what she wants to do with those other Gods! I can assure you, a being so self-centered and callous cares not about the consequences of her actions.”

Doubts dug their claws into his heart and he frowned involuntarily. Was that true? If so, then Ranni truly was either cold-hearted, or merely short sighted. And he just couldn't believe that someone of her intelligence would overlook such an obvious flaw in her plan. But then again... the Ranni he got to know and learned to love wasn't malicious. She was at times clumsy with conveying her intentions, but she was kind at heart. He believed in that... He believed in her.

So instead of letting the words of the other Tarnished poison his image of his Lady, he shook his head. “For someone claiming to be all-knowing, you still know so little about some things. Loyalty, for example. I trust in Ranni and no matter what you say, I will see her ascent to godhood. And should you scheme against us, then I will kill you without any quarrels.”

Gideon didn't say anything for a moment. Then he sighed. “Trusting your heart rather than your mind... the road to hell is paved with good intentions, you know. I will not besmirch this place by breaking the rule of armistice, as much as I want to right now. You might think you're doing the right thing, but you will spell the doom of us all.”

He opened the leather bag once more, rummaging through it before he pulled out a little pouch. When he threw it at Constantine, he said: “Here. You will need them on your way ahead. I hope we will meet again, so I can end you before you cause any more damage. I will send you back into the gutter you crawled from and cut the strings of your little dolly.”

Constantine opened the pouch, and scoffed when he saw a bunch of preserving boluses in it. He raised his gaze, contempt burning in his brown eyes. “I hope we see each other again, Gideon. Me and my blade.”

--------------------------------------

“You can do this, Constantine. You did worse things.” The Tarnished prowled along the shore of the Lake of Rot, trying to muster up the courage to finally cross the body of sludge. “It is just liquid... disgusting, smelly liquid... Oh Grace I am going to reek like an outhouse.”

Torrent watched his companion in silent judgment, his head moving from one side to the other as he watched the two-legged creature struggle to get going. Humans were strange creatures. Instead of worrying that his inner organs might get liquidated by the disease, he rather stressed about his odor.

Constantine was oblivious to his steed's thoughts. His mind was rather preoccupied by the massive scarlet colored disaster in front of him. With one last wistful sigh he turned to Torrent. “Pretty please?” In a cloud of sparks the steed disappeared into the spectral realm, giving him his answer. “Stupid donkey...”

Sighing once more, he braced himself, before he started running. The liquid was knee-deep and viscous, slowing him down quite a bit. The further he walked, the worse the effect of the fumes got and he started to feel dizzy. At one point his foot got caught on something submerged in the sludge, sending him falling.

This time he was wise enough to keep his eyes and mouth shut tight, so at least he wouldn't have to hurl violently while getting back up blinded. When he looked behind him, he saw what had caused his fall. A basilisk happily crawled through the liquid towards him, big fake eyes reflecting the red all around them. Constantine, despite already noticing the effects of the Scarlet Rot writhing inside of him, groaned about this encounter. “You've got to be fucking kidding me!”

Of course, standing in a literal lake of disease, he wasn't stupid enough to start fighting. Instead, he started running again, leaving behind a rather disappointed looking basilisk. While running, he started coughing. It felt like he had swallowed glass-shards and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

Hastily he picked a preserving bolus out of his pouch, shoving it into his mouth and chewing on it vigorously. Constantine hated those things. They tasted foul, like he just chewed on a clump of mold. The image made him retch, but he managed to keep the thing down and flushed it down with a hearty swig from his Crimson Tears flask... which didn't really taste any better.

Then, through the pink fumes emitted by the lake, he saw big statures in the distance... and a walkway. He was almost through! Spurred on by his goal clearly in sight, he grinned and ran a little faster. While risking a glance back, he saw that there wasn't just one basilisk chasing him anymore. A small army of those hellspawn were behind him, jumping and jolting, all the while spewing their deathblight.

Tears build in the corners of Constantine's eyes... and they weren't just from the toxic fumes he was forced to inhale. “I hate it here! I hate it! Who thought this is a good a idea?!”, he sobbed, all the while trying to keep up his pace. The Scarlet Rot had build up enough again to make his breath raspy and labored. Another bolus was quickly choked down, his whole body revolted.

One of the basilisks caught up to him, almost hitting him with a cloud of smoke, which he only evaded by rolling to the side. Covered in scarlet sludge, he fished for the small pouch of preserving boluses he had fastened to his belt... but his hands grabbed for nothing. Panic shot up his spine and he looked down, confirming that he had lost the pouch while he had been rolling. “Oh fuck me.”

There was no use in trying to search for the pouch. It would take up time he didn't have, so he opted to force his way forward. The statures were close, after all. Fever started to build...

When he finally reached the walkway, he was tempted to just collapse onto it and curl up to cry. The threat of almost a dozen basilisks piling up on him and suffocating him in a cloud of death was enough to keep him going. So despite his knees shaking and blood dripping out of his nose and the corners of his eyes, he kept moving while drinking the last of his Crimson Tears.

His eyesight became worse and worse. Constantine blinked wildly, to see the stairs he was stumbling down at least somewhat. At the bottom of the stairs was a site of Grace. A beacon of hope. His only hope to survive this ordeal.

Just before he was able to reach it, a coughing fit had him bend over and vomit. Despite only seeing rough shapes at this point, he saw the red color and worrying amount of very organic looking chunks he had hurled up. He could no longer breathe, so he figured that he had either thrown up his lung or trachea. Or both, who knew?

His legs were no longer able to carry his weight, so with a loud clatter of metal he crumbled to the floor. Teeth bared, he crawled onward, using all of the little strength he had left to reach the Grace. A gloved hand more or less fell onto the Grace, lighting it up. Constantine was already more dead than alive at that point, with bloody foam oozing out of his mouth and empty eyes staring straight ahead.

Grace worked fast and efficient. First thing that got healed was his respiratory system and with a loud gasp Constantine greedily took in air. He still coughed a few times, but with each second he got better and after maybe two minutes all traces of Scarlet Rot were erased from his body.

His hands shaking wildly, he pulled his knees to his chest and remained sitting huddled up like this for some time. It wasn't like he didn't know death. But still... some deaths were worse than others. And escaping his demise this narrowly was still traumatizing. The Tarnished closed his eyes and shuddered one last time, before he stood up.

Straightening his shoulders, he walked on. The structure he had walked into was some kind of ancient temple, or at least it seemed like it. Though the Lake of Rot was behind him, the overwhelmingly foul smell of Scarlet Rot was still all around, probably due to the literal river of the poisonous liquid running through the construct. How anyone could build a place of worship down here was beyond him.

Constantine jumped down a few ledges, before he reached the main way towards another ruinous looking structure. A sizable congregation of those centipede like creatures he had met in Caelid once, was laying in front of it. They had their backsides raised and he couldn't help but think how both goofy and disgusting they looked while doing that. It almost seemed like they were worshiping whatever was hidden in that structure.

Scuttling sounds behind the Tarnished made him aware of yet more of those creatures. And with the sounds of alarm coming from the kindred behind him, the rest of them raised from their pose of prayer and focused on the Tarnished as well. There were too many of them, for him to have a fair chance in a fight, so he did the only logical thing in this situation... he ran.

The sound of chitinous feet on stone followed him, as he ran past the ruins and around a corner. Ahead of him was a waterfall, consisting of the scarlet sludge, falling down a steep and seemingly endless precipice. A dead-end. Fuck. A singular stone coffin caught his eyes.

Knowing his pursuers were right behind him, he did the only thing left for him... Constantine jumped into the coffin balancing right on the edge of the precipice, hoping it would protect him from breaking every bone in his body. The coffin keeled over the edge, just as he had expected. What he hadn't expected was the magic, that immediately slowed the fall and instead turned it into a very weird elevator ride.

It lasted only for a few minutes and when the coffin gently touched the ground, he stepped out of it with slightly weak knees. Well, at least something didn't go horribly wrong today.

Constantine took in his new surroundings, which differed vastly from everything he had experienced in this hellhole so far. No traces of rot were visible, instead a pleasant bio-luminescent blue light filled the cave, probably stemming from the flora growing on the walls. The air was fresh and cold, not humid and stuffy like it had been with the rot all around. A site of Grace was quickly awakened with a touch from him.

He took off his helmet and allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of the cool air on his sweaty skin. Safe for the time being, he even dared to dream of a long bath. With soap and a good scrub. Wistfully he sighed, scratching his stubble that had grown too long for his taste. It was a beard at this point. When had been the last time he shaved? The events of the past days had left little time for him to take care of himself... He would definitely have to take a bath before he could even dare to step in front of Ranni.

His thoughts occupied by dreams of baths and bubbles - and four slender hands helping him scrub his body thoroughly, though he banished that shameful fantasy quickly - he stepped into a large cave. The ceiling was similar to the caves of the Ainsel and Siofra, an artificial night's sky speckled with stars and cosmic dust. Constantine had little time to appreciate the beauty of it, as a large creature descended from the ceiling.

It looked familiar to the creatures he had fought already, with its human-like skull and large mandibles. While the eye sockets of the skull were empty black voids, there was a big eye on its forehead. But unlike the immobile creatures that were suspended from the ceiling like a pupating caterpillar, it was able to move freely. With long and lanky limbs, that ended in bony digits.

Insect-like wings sprouted from its back and shone in a myriad of colors. The creature was in both measures appalling and fascinating, awakening a sense of wonder and horror. A piece of the cosmos, fallen down to the Lands Between. Constantine watched as it looked at him with that one eye. A purple light started to build between it's mandibles... it seemed somewhat familiar...

A beam of energy ripped his head straight from his shoulders, evaporating it almost immediately. A headless body slumped to the floor, the stump of the neck still sizzling and steaming from the force that had eviscerated the head.

Darkness.

Constantine blinked awake at the site of Grace right in front of the cave inhabited by the cosmic beast. With a groan he fell onto his back. “Fuuuuck meeeee!”

… At least he was clean again.

Chapter Text

Constantine always loved the sight of stars. Specks of distant lights against a dark canvas. He was sure, whoever he had been in his past life, there was a fascination for them even back then. A natural curiosity that everyone felt once in a while, when gazing up in a cold winter night. That feeling of insignificance in face of infinity.

Cold and bony fingers dug into his sides and he screamed in pain, as they broke through his armor. Stars were only pretty from a distance, he decided at that point, as he got thrown through the cavern by a creature that was space dust given form. Constantine knew, when he had looked into the eye of his foe, that this thing was beyond his comprehension of life. And when he had hacked off one of its legs, it had screamed in a sound that he was convinced was impossible to achieve for any creature from this world.

Evading another beam of concentrated energy, the Tarnished quickly drank some Crimson Tears to heal his wounds. His eyes set on his target, he stormed onward to get back into close quarters. A very frustrating part of this fight was the fact that the creature was capable of teleportation. So from one to the other moment his enemy was disappearing in a vortex of purple and black, before popping up behind him to grab for him once more.

This time Constantine was able to avoid getting caught and instead severed the fingers from the hand reaching for him. Again, the creature screeched a blood curdling scream that had him shuddering and fearing for his eardrums. His face twisted to a grimace of pain, he aimed for the eye of his foe. Before his sword was able to pierce it, it teleported once more. The shockwave sent him tumbling.

A spike of anger shot through him. “Fucking teleportation. Just fight me, you overgrown cockroach.” He felt reminded of his fight against Preceptor Miriam. The only thing missing were the insults.

Recognizing the pattern of the creature, he twirled around just as it appeared again, jabbing his sword straight into the multi-colored eye. Another scream, this time accompanied by wild flailing of many limbs. The hit hadn't been deep enough to kill it, but now it was blind so the rest should be a cakewalk... or at least Constantine thought so.

A strange feeling of weightlessness caught him and the air around him seemed electrically charged. When he lost his footing and started floating, he cursed and somehow tried to hold his balance. The feeling was somewhat funny, a tingling in his belly and chest, as he was lifted from the ground. Of course that didn't last long. As the creature slammed its hands into the ground, the short moment of weightlessness stopped and the Tarnished crashed to the ground.

Metal groaned under an invisible pressure and Constantine felt how his chestplate almost gave in. Just as he was sure he would be crushed by the gravity, it stopped. Clumsily he got up, uncomfortable in his bend armor, but glad to still be breathing. The creature tried to bite him with its impressive mandibles, crushing him between them, but due to the missing sight it missed him. Taking advantage of this opening, the Tarnished once again plunged his sword into the already destroyed eye, this time pushing it further in.

An unbearable cold washed over him, as it collapsed to the ground and dissolved into ash and nothing. Hoarfrost build on his armor and the puddles in the cave froze. Constantine hissed in discomfort and recoiled. A few seconds of cold passed, before the sensation faded. The familiar feeling of Runes rushing his body filled him and a deeper understanding of the creature he just fought. A Remembrance, burned into his mind.

A relieved sigh escaped him. Another foe felled. His eyes grazed over the artificial night sky and he couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the beast he had slain. Far removed from its home, stranded in a place that was nowhere close to the beauty it had known.

With a grimace he shifted, as his misshaped armor pressed uncomfortably into his flesh. There was no use in keeping this set any longer, the metal was just too damaged. Constantine pursed his lips, as he loosened the buckles and straps of his armor, a little melancholic for having to dump this reliable piece of gear. He would have to look for a new set quickly, unless he wanted to become an easy target.

Leaving behind the damaged armor, he continued on his way, now clad in only his simple linen clothing. A pair of washed out brown trousers and an equally faded white tunic. Fastening his heavy black woolen cloak over his shoulders, he felt rather vulnerable despite the greatword strapped across his back. At least his boots were still the same reliable footwear. So if he got attacked, at least his feet were protected... great.

An elevator led him out of the cave, taking him up. Reaching the top, he opened a door to leave the underground behind him and finally face the next stretch of his journey. He was tired, all the running and fighting taking a toll on him. Maybe it would've been wise to rest, before heading on, but merely the thought of giving that ring to Ranni... it spurred him on. So despite his joints and muscles aching, he walked on.

Exiting the elevator, he found himself before a small stretch of wood, that opened up into a large moonlit meadow. His steps more weary than ever before, he moved onward to have a better look at his surroundings. The terrain was uneven, the grass covered by a thin layer of snow and the strong aura of magic all around him. With the air thin and cold, he shivered a little, pulling his cloak tighter around his form. Wherever he was, it was rather clear he was high up. Ahead from him were the ruins of a building that seemed like a church. Something inside of him told him that he would find what he was searching for in those ruins.

The burning crown of the Erdtree occupied most of the sky right in front of him, though another thing was also prominent: two moons. One shining full and bright, and the other dark and menacing. Constantine knew he was at the right place. Ranni's Dark Moon was a pretty clear sign.

Despite it's foreboding imagery, he wasn't scared by the cold and dark the moon embodied. For him, it was also an embodiment of wonder. Of endless realms yet undiscovered and a new start. And of course it reminded him of Ranni. Of his love for her. Walking towards the church ahead, he fished the ring out of his pouch and held it tight. “Almost there, my Lady.”

The sounds of wings made him stop in his tracks. Just as he turned around to face the origin of it, a dragon basically shot from out of the sky. Constantine had seen this one already. It was the same one that had guarded Ranni's tower back at the manor. From what he had gathered on information, the dragon was in service of the Lunar Princess. Devout to the Dark Moon and by extension Ranni.

Constantine didn't expect Adula to attack him, seeing that they were on the same side. He had to reevaluate that conclusion, as it grabbed him hard and pressed the air out of his lungs while trapping him to the ground. The scales around him were ice-cold. “Halt! Halt! We serve the same mistress!” The dragon reacted by sniffing him with flaring nostrils, blue flames in the back of its throat.

When he realized that Adula understood him, the Tarnished tried his best to catch some air. “I... I know you only protect her. But I mean no... no harm.” He coughed labored. “Friend! I am friend!” There was no telling how intelligent the dragon was exactly, so he prayed it wouldn't offend the beast as he talked in incomplete sentences.

He almost saw his fiery death, when Adula bared its teeth. But then it lifted its claw, releasing him and letting him breathe again. Constantine hastily got up, his eyes still glued to the dragon as he was unsure if it wouldn't start attacking him any moment. Meanwhile, the beast only shook its head and trotted to the side, before rolling up just besides the church. Its head fixated on each of the Tarnished's moves. A clear warning. As long as he didn't try anything funny, he was in the clear.

A tired smile crossed his features. “Thank you for your trust, mighty dragon.” As an answer he received a mocking huff and cloud of smoke from the dragon's maw. Constantine quickly walked past Adula, finally entering the church. Most of the walls and ceiling of the building were broken, so it brought little shelter. Time and neglect had left a mark.

Slowly walking down the aisle towards the altar, he looked for any indication that Ranni might be here. His way had led him here, all signs were pointing to this church... she had to be here somewhere. As he reached the altar, he saw the deep crater to his right. He looked down into almost perfect darkness. Constantine lit the small lantern he had fastened to his belt and started his descent into the dark.

Finally he jumped down the last part to land in a dark and damp cave. The smell of fresh blood hung heavy in the air and as the Tarnished took a few more steps, he saw what was causing it. The grotesque form of a Two Fingers towered over him, looking similar to those that were in the Roundtable Hold. But unlike those, this one seemed frozen in a pose of pain, a severe wound gaping in it.

Constantine walked through the puddle of blood that had pooled in front of it. His steps were slow, deliberate... scared. Before the Two Fingers sat Ranni, motionless. She wasn't wearing anything and for the first time he saw her full body. Though it might've felt indecent for him to stare at her uncovered body, there was nothing actually indecent to see. Whoever modeled the doll didn't add those particular parts to it.

He frowned slightly. The whole time the slight damages on her cheek and neck were the only indicator that she might've experienced harm in her doll body. Now he saw how on big parts of her body the porcelain was chipped and even broken off completely, revealing the ropes that lied underneath.

Her dark blue locks flowing free over her shoulders and her unseeing gaze directed to the ground, she for the first time actually looked like a doll to the Tarnished. Motionless. Cold. Dead.

Even when he was almost standing right in front of her, she didn't move. “Ranni?”, he asked carefully, his heart thumping. She didn't react and a wave of hopelessness rolled over him. He trembled and whispered: “Please.”

No movement. He fell to his knees. His eyes burned and his throat was narrowing, breathing became hard. With a shaking hand he carefully reached for hers. It felt... cold. It wasn't the pleasant chill Ranni always carried with her. It was the cold of something without life. Realization hit him, that he was too late.

Ranni was gone. If she merely left this plane, or if she got killed in the fight against the Two Fingers he couldn't tell. Sadness had a tight grip on his heart and it demanded everything from him to hold back tears.

He had to do something to distract himself... or the sadness would overwhelm him and leave him a sobbing mess. Trembling he got up on his feet and took off his cloak. Tenderly he put it over her shoulders to cover her up a little. “You're costing me quite a few cloaks, my Lady.”, he mumbled in an effort to keep his mind from thinking about the truth of his situation.

But it was in vain. “Oh what am I doing...?” With a pitiful sound he fell back onto his knees and shook his head.

The Tarnished got the ring he obtained in Raya Lucaria out of his pouch and stared at it. A stupid hope arose in him and without thinking twice about it he gently put the ring on her ringfinger. “You promised that... maybe...” His hand lingered for a moment longer on hers, before he slowly retreated it.

With an aching heart he stared to the ground, watching his own reflection in the blood. Oh how miserable he looked. Dark rings under his eyes, skin pale and a face so marred by sorrow it was heart wrenching. Constantine felt deprived of all energy to move on. He was utterly lost. This one ray of hope that had held him upright was lost. Now... now he was truly alone.

He was so absorbed in his sadness, he didn't hear the quiet rustling sound of fabric. Or didn't feel the wave of chill air on his skin. Only the four slender arms pulling him in a gentle embrace finally managed to rip him out of his trance. He froze, scared to move and maybe confirm he was just imagining things.

A hand circled over his back, sending pleasant shivers down his spine and finally he dared to look up. Ranni returned his gaze with a tender expression on her spectral face. With a voice barely more than a whisper she said: “I dared not to hope... to see thee again. But alas, it was thee, who would become my Lord.” A small smile was visible on her lips. “Perhaps I needn't have warned thee.”

He just could stare at her, unable to put into words how happy he was. Ranni took a look around and then a look down at herself. “Ah... It doth seem like this is an unfitting place to celebrate our reunion.” She sounded a little flustered and pulled the cloak of the Tarnished a little tighter around her body.

He blushed and averted his gaze. Of course... though her body was lacking any gender specific characteristic, she was still naked underneath his cloak. He felt like a creep for staring as long as he had. “I-I'm sorry.”

There was a smile audible in her voice. “Let us leave this cavern. I wish to see the moon.”

When he wanted to look at her again, she was already gone. Hastily he climbed back out of the cave, leaving the corpse of the Two Fingers to rot. Back in the ruins of the church he looked around and found Ranni standing a little outside of the building. She was back in her usual attire.

As he slowly approached her, she turned to face him. The light of the moon, mixed with the light of the burning Erdtree, reflected in her one eye and made it look even more beautiful than usual. She held his cloak in her hands, neatly folded. “I already costed thee a cloak, I can't possibly claim another one.”

The Tarnished took it from her and held it close to his chest. “I'd give you a thousand more if need be.”

She huffed amused. “But Constantine, what shall I do with that many cloaks? Besides, accepting thy gift would only mean thy persistence of following me could grow.”

Slowly losing some of the tension that he had held, the Tarnished chuckled. “You know that I am a rather... dogged fellow.” That elicited a quiet laugh from her. “And you know I'd follow you to anywhere you might go, just to see your beautiful smile again.”

Ranni raised an eyebrow. “Oh thy tongue is laced with honey, my Tarnished.” She let her gaze trace over him. “What happened to thine armor? Seeing thee clad in naught but fabric... tis odd.” After a moment of hesitation, she raised a hand and let it caress over his arm. “Though tis a welcome sight, to see the man that lieth beneath all the metal.”

Those last words made him blush, but he quickly cleared his throat to overplay how much her words affected him. “I-I had a fight with a creature fond of gravitational magic... The armor just pressed into some very sensitive places after the fight.”

She raised an eyebrow and there was a suggestive smirk on her face. Constantine realized what he just had implied and hastily stuttered: “Ehrm... S-so anyways, I will have to look for a new set of armor soon.” His pathetic effort of diverting from his faux pas only earned him an even more prominent smirk. Oh, of course she would have fun making him flustered....

Trying to force his embarrassment down and regaining some composure, he averted his gaze from her. Adula, who was still curled up besides the church, caught his eye and he saw an opportunity for retaliation. “You know, the longer I travel alongside you, the more I realize that you have a knack for theatricals.”

“How so?”, she inquired, that amused spark still in her eye. “Well, a princess residing in a tower, guarded by a dragon. The way you let Seluvis taste his own medicine. Oh, and let's not forget the stack of books you sat on to appear taller.”

That last statement made her flinch, before she covered her face with one hand. “Thou'st seen that?”

Feeling slightly bad for calling her out like that, he shrugged his shoulders. “I mean you have been tall once, so it's understandable. And I found it kinda cute...”

“Thy words are not making this any less agonizing”, Ranni groaned, staring to the side and desperately avoiding his eyes. Constantine started laughing loudly. To rub salt into the wound, he added: “You look so lovely when flustered.”

Her head whipped around to face him with a very disgruntled expression. “Adula!”, she called out and the dragon immediately raised its head, on high alert when hearing its master. The laugh died in Constantine's throat and he nervously stuttered: “N-now, now... I was merely pulling your leg a little, my Lady.”

“Mayhaps I feel theatrical and decide to have the dragon in my service devour my consort”, she said with a smug smile and the Tarnished frowned. “Is that some story I don't know...” Despite all of this being nothing but banter, he still felt how his heart jumped in his chest, when he heard her call him her consort.

“Tis the story of Ranni the Witch. Quite the tale, if I might say so myself.” Ranni grinned at him with genuine joy and he had to smile himself. Seeing her in such high spirits... it was quite infectious.

She looked down at her hand and cocked her head slightly. “Thou knowest what the ring thou'st given me implieth, no?” A small smile crossed her lips. “Tradition would demand I bestow this ring upon my chosen Lord...” There was a strange spark in her eye as she looked at Constantine. “Though... the outcome remaineth the same.”

He felt heat rising to his face and he stuttered: “I-I am aware and... I mean only if you... You and I could... It's maybe a little... ah.” It wasn't as if the meaning of the ring was new to him. But it was still different, now that he stood before Ranni. With a defeated sigh he let his head hang low, before taking a deep breath and looking up at her once more. He had fought legends, facing death many times and yet he never felt so utterly nervous like he did in that moment. When he spoke the words, it felt like a weight was lifted from his chest. “I love you, Ranni.”

While the doll part of her face seemed rather neutral as always, except for a hint of surprise, her spectral face looked enraptured. The Tarnished wondered, if she was aware of how much her true emotions were given away by that non-physical part of hers. He decided against asking her. Instead he intertwined the fingers of his right hand with one of hers and repeated: “I love you.”

It was obvious she wasn't able to hold his gaze, so she looked at their intertwined fingers. “T-Thy words are rather unconcealed... I... We... Uhm... Oh Constantine, what art thou doing to me?” Just like him before she seemed to struggle to find the right words and that amused him. This woman that usually was so eloquent and witty, reduced to stuttering and stumbling over her words. She held her gaze lowered, so the brim of her hat obscured her features.

With a soft smile he lifted the hat off of her head, revealing how undeniably flustered she was. “My hat...”, she mumbled in weak protest and Constantine chuckled. As he put the hat on his own head, he said: “You always try to hide your emotions.” In a perfect imitation of her he held his gaze low and laid the tips of his fingers together. “But thou'rt unable to fool me, my Lady. Thine efforts are commendable, I have to admit. Yet I know there lieth a heart of gold in thy chest.”

Ranni surprised him when she started laughing. This time she didn't stop herself, but allowed herself to laugh without restraint. It was melodic and full of joy. Constantine felt his heartbeat fasten as he clung to this moment. He could've listened to that beautiful sound for all eternity. When she composed herself, she looked at him with sparking eyes. “Thou art a piece of work, dear...” She raised one set of hands to adjust the hat on him. “It suits thee. Didst thou ever contemplate on devoting thyself to the sorcerous arts?”

“Would you be willing to teach me?”

She swayed her head from one side to the other. “Oh, thou art asking me to impart my knowledge? What might I gain from that?”

Constantine shrugged. “I could show you some tricks of a swordfighter.”

Ranni smirked somewhat smugly. “Thou art oblivious to the fact I used to be quite the formidable fencer. My mother put much importance into teaching me not only the ways of sorcery, but also the sword. After all, I was to follow as head of the glintstone knights.”

With a surprised expression he shook his head. “It's hard to imagine you with a sword.” He grinned. “I would've loved to spar with you.”

“As thou'st seen, my vessel hath seen it's fair share of hardship. I prefer avoiding adding yet more blemishes to it.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, looking surprisingly girlish for a moment. He couldn't help himself but smile softly.

Constantine placed a hand on her cheek, gently caressing over the cracks in the porcelain. In barely more than a whisper he asked: “May I kiss you?”

Her eye widened for a second, before she merely nodded with an expression of both anticipation and reluctance. He leaned down and kissed her, gentle and careful. Her lips felt cold and smooth on his, though they were unexpectedly soft. Ranni quietly gasped, but after a second of hesitation returned the kiss tenderly.

And for this brief moment the Tarnished did not care about anything but his beloved. Forgotten were all the painful deaths he had to endure to get here, forgotten all the loss he suffered along the way. It all seemed unimportant in light of this very moment.

When their lips parted, Ranni looked at him with emotions sparking in her eyes, both the puppet and the spectral one. She carefully laid a hand on his cheek. “Thou... truly seemest to harbor a fondness for dolls. Doth it not revolt thee... Having seen the state of my vessel? To kiss cold lips?”

The Tarnished placed a hand over hers and kissed her palm. The ropes holding her hand to her body clearly visible. “Do you really when I told you how beautiful you are I was lying?” Before she could answer he shook his head. “No matter if you are an Empyrean with lovely freckles, or a doll with this pretty spark in your eyes, you'll be breathtakingly beautiful.”

He let one hand slide over the outline of her spectral face, even though it wasn't anything physical to touch. “Because you are Lunar Princess Ranni, nothing will change that. And never in my life have I met a person so marvelous and stunning. You harbor a warmth that eludes the meaning of the word.” Constantine smirked, as he took her hat off his head and put it back on hers. “I fought through a literal lake of disease and faced death over and over, just so I might be able to hold your hand. I ask of you, from the bottom of my heart, never doubt your own beauty or my commitment to you again, my dear.”

She just stared at him, speechless, as she trembled ever so slightly. Then, without another word she pulled him into another kiss, deep and longing. She laid two of her hands on the back of his neck, while the other two were wrapped around his waist to bring him closer to her. “Constantine”, she whispered in between kisses. “Mine ever loyal Constantine.” The full moon was shining down on the two of them, dousing them in its cold light, as they held each other tight.

After one final kiss, Ranni looked up at him with a slightly bashful expression. “Thou wouldst choose to walk alongside darkness for many years to come... just so thou couldst be with me?”

Without even a moment of hesitation he nodded. “Yes.” At his answer she averted her gaze. “But why... How did I earn such adoration?”

Constantine laughed. “Where do I start?” With her features still marred by doubts, he sighed. “Just trust me, Ranni. You are admirable, even though you don't want to see it. Fighting for a better tomorrow...” Gideon's words crossed his mind and he felt a spike of worry shoot up his spine. He decided against speaking about them now, unwilling to sour this sweet moment. Ranni leaned against him. “I thank thee. For having faith in me and the future I envision.”

“An eternity just with you? How could I not immediately agree to it”, he chuckled and she snorted. “Let us wait how long thou wilt keep to that resolve.” When he merely hugged her a little tighter, she hummed content.

Ranni shifted slightly in his arms after a moment. “Thou art so warm...”, she mumbled with her lips almost touching his. Constantine tilted his head slightly. “I hope it is not unpleasant for you.”

“Nay.” As if to underline her word she pulled him even closer. So much so he could feel the rigid edges of her body, where the porcelain had been broken, through his clothes. “It hath been such a long time... since last I felt so warm.”

“Better get used to it...”, he smirked cheekily and she laughed quietly. “Ah, my Tarnished. Thou art making me face quite some challenges.”

The Tarnished could've spent all of eternity like this, just holding and kissing her over and over again. But he knew that his journey wasn't over just yet.

He smiled, before moving back just a little. His heart ached at the words he was about to say, but he knew he had to: “Ranni...”

Ranni heaved a little sigh. “I know.” Her hands were still folded behind his neck. “My heart wisheth to hold thee like this forevermore, but I know that thou still hath to fight that wretched harlot Marika...” Her voice grew cold for a moment at the end and she slowly stepped back from him. Then she stretched out the upper set of her arms and almost solemnly announced: “As a descendant of house Caria, tis tradition that I bestow upon thee this sword, my chosen Lord. A symbol of our bond and a promise to our future.”

A blade manifested in her hands, a greatsword with a bright blue hue to it. He quickly took it out of her hands, as she seemed to struggle with the weight of the thing. The handle was ice cold, even through his glove and he felt that this sword was imbued with ice magic. He tried a few swings to feel the weight and he couldn't help but notice how good the sword felt in his hand. It was perfectly balanced despite it's considerable weight. The blue blade looked like a shard of moonlight itself was cutting through the air.

He looked at Ranni, who had watched him with a pleased smile as he tried out the blade. “Thank you, Ranni.”

“May it serve thee well”, she merely answered, before she hesitantly asked: “Wouldst thou mind... staying just a little longer?”

This question tugged on his heartstrings and he huffed. “It would be my pleasure.” Her happy smile in reaction to his answer made butterflies dance in his stomach. He took his cloak and put it like a blanket on the high grass. “Have a seat.”

While she sat on the cloak, he sat beside her on the grass, though he didn't mind. For a few moments they just sat there, watching the stunning night's sky, though its spectacle was disturbed by the flaming form of the Erdtree.

“Thou hast done the unthinkable. Tis a marvelous sight”, she murmured, a certain satisfaction in her voice as she watched the great tree burn. “Usually I prefer a more subtle course... However, I cannot deny the joy this spectacle bringeth to my heart.”

Memories of Melina crossed Constantine's mind and he lowered his gaze. It still haunted him, that honest smile she had given him before making him sleep with a spell. Her words she spoke so full of determination. It is my destiny... the task I was given at birth... and the task I choose at the same time. Don't deny me my wish, Constantine.

“Constantine?” Ranni looked at him with a questioning look. He sighed deeply and looked up at the stars. “If someone would've told me what would await me after I awoke as Tarnished... I'd call them crazy.” His gaze wandered from the stars to Ranni. “I fought foes that are the stuff of legends. Made my way through places only few have ever seen. I forced demigods to their knees... and even managed to win one demigod's hand in marriage. Tell me, my dear Lady, how does a Tarnished without a legacy manage such things?”

“Hmm”, she hummed, a small smile on her lips. “Thou art extraordinary. Yet more importantly, thou art extraordinarily stubborn. Thou wilt find a way, no matter the obstacle. Unwavering and unyielding. Tis a trait I find most... appealing.”

A sly smile crossed his features. “You find me appealing? Oh my...” She looked flustered at his statement and he started chuckling. With a disgruntled expression she nudged him in the side, which only made him laugh more.

Ranni huffed and slightly shook her head. “My Lord is teasing me? Despite him turning red if I just so much as smile at him? How bold.” Now it was his turn to be flustered and for her to chuckle. Constantine pouted. “Not fair. How am I supposed to be unmoved by such a pretty smile?”

She rolled her eye. “Flatterer.” He winked at her. “Well, seeing you find me appealing, it certainly worked.” Instead of answering she just leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He smiled softly and laid an arm around her. For a long time they just sat there, watching the great tree burn and enjoying the presence of each other.

It was Ranni who broke the silence first. “Constantine... I... I have a favor to ask of thee.” She sounded glum and hesitant.

A little surprised at her downtrodden tone, he frowned. “What can I do for you?”

Another moment of silence passed before she said: “Blaidd... He and I share a bond, forged by the Two Fingers. Tis part of his nature as my shadow. Even if he is not close, I would always know how he fairs. But since I slew my Two Fingers... I feel naught.” She put a hand to her chest, where her heart would be located. “I fret he hath lost his sense of self. Twas a risk we were aware of...”

Constantine felt his heart drop, as he remembered how vehemently Blaidd had reaffirmed that he could never turn against Ranni. What if his fight had been in vain and he lost to the influence of the Greater Will... “Do you want me to check on him?”

She nodded. “Yes. But I want to accompany thee.” When she saw his concerned look, she said: “I am aware that tis not without danger. But Blaidd stood at my side for long and arduous years. That is why I cannot abandon him now... I owe it to him.”

His eyes were downcast as he thought about the possibility of him having to fight his friend. But he knew that Blaidd would never want to stay in a state where his sole goal was to kill his sister. So despite his fear of what might await them, he answered: “Of course.”

Her smile was tinged with sadness and she softly put a hand on his cheek. “I thank you, my dear.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss on it, feeling the ring on his lips. “Now and forever.”

Chapter Text

The Black Knife Assassin crumbled to the ground, her throat ripped open and spilling blood over the stone floor. Blaidd sneered and rolled his shoulders, satisfied with his work. The women in black had started to attack not too long ago, but he was able to keep them at bay.

He knew they were out for Ranni, with their enchanted knifes ready to bring a final end to the witch. Apparently they didn't know she wasn't here anymore. He welcomed them with bared teeth and drawn blade.

She demands a judgment. You know it.

The voice was cold and sneering, vibrating through his whole being as he sat before the tower, hunched over and clasping his head. Blaidd growled and tried to force that presence out of his thoughts, this remnant of the Greater Will that had always remained in his mind. For the longest time he had been able to suppress it, but now it was back with more force than ever before.

They despised you. She resisted from the very beginning.

Why keep protecting her?

They did not despise me!

Oh no?

A memory forced itself onto him, brought up by that golden voice that tried to take control of him. Blaidd didn't want to relive that evening. Where he had been sitting huddled up besides a small hearth, listening to what that imposing man had to say. In the distance he could still hear the festivities in celebration of the princess' birthday.

Radagon was tall, literally towering before him. Blaidd was little more than a pup, only seven years old and yet already he faced great distress. No one here in Liurnia seemed to want him there, no matter where he looked he only saw contempt in the people's eyes. It was so different from Leyndell, where everyone had been nice to him.

“I will not have it here!” Radagon said in his deep voice, glaring at the little shadow. “The child is an ill omen.”

“He is without fault, thou knowest. It surpriseth me that it hath to be I that lectureth thee on the rules of the Golden Order”, Queen Rennala answered her husband, her voice even and unbothered. She was the only one that had shown him at least some form of compassion... though he didn't miss how she constantly positioned herself in a way so he wouldn't be able to reach Ranni.

The little Empyrean was hidden behind her mother, clinging to her robes and clearly uncomfortable. She still didn't look at Blaidd, no matter how desperately he wished for it.

“Then thou art aware of what the arrival of that child meaneth, Renna.” The king crossed his arms. “Wouldst thou wish that fate upon our daughter?”

For the first time Blaidd saw darkness in the queen's features, as she furrowed her brow. “Nay, but what wouldst thou suggest? Drown the pup in the lake? Will that take care of this predicament?”

Blaidd laid his ears flat against his head and started to fear. So far Rennala had been kind towards him, but he felt that she would kill him in a heartbeat if it benefited her daughter. He wished he could become invisible, to escape those cold gazes.

“If only twas that simple”, Radagon sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Once the Greater Will chooseth an Empyrean, the candidate cannot refuse. Tis done.” His golden eyes looked towards his daughter, genuine sadness in them. “I wish things could be different, little firefly.”

Ranni stared to the ground, still holding on to her mother's robes. “Will... Will he kill me?” Rennala grimaced and Radagon shook his head. “Nay... as long as thou stayest true to the Two Fingers and the Greater Will.”

“Then I shall have no quarrel with them”, she answered timidly and for the first time she actually looked in Blaidd's direction. “I shall have no quarrel with thee, either.” Despite her words, he saw that spark of hatred in her golden eyes. Most importantly, he felt it, like a sharp knife to his heart.

After another moment of tense silence, the queen and the princess left to join the festivities again. Alone with Radagon, Blaidd couldn't help but whimper quietly. The king was quiet for another painfully long moment, before he slowly said: “Shouldst thou harm even one hair upon her head, then prepare for thy demise. Remember that, Shadow. My faith in the Greater Will is strong, but my love for my daughter is stronger.” Words full of conviction. If only he knew that exactly those words were the reason the God decided to recall him to Leyndell a few years later...

“Of... of course, Lord Radagon...”

They learned to accept me.

I do not begrudge them for their distrust.

Fool! You vowed to serve the Greater Will!

You have to kill the rebellious Empyrean.

I.... I can not.

You have to, it's your purpose. She killed a messenger!

No! My purpose is to protect her!

Sentimental ramblings! You have been coddled

for too many years, you forgot who you actually serve.

They gave me a home... they loved me!

Flashes of a life he had been gifted flitted across his mind.

“I will catch you!” Blaidd called out and Ranni looked down at him, her golden eyes filled with doubt. “I don't know... The height...”

Lunar Princess Ranni sat on a tree, her feet dangling above ground, looking like a weird bird up there. She and Blaidd had bet on who would climb to the top first and now she was not only owing her shadow her piece of fresh fruit cake, she was also stuck at the top of the tree, too scared to climb down.

“Come on, I want to go home!” He got impatient.

“Thou wilt catch me for sure?” The nine year old demigod clung to the branch she was sitting on.

“Don't you trust me? I will catch you, princess.” He stretched out his arms, confident he could handle her weight. Though they were of the same age, he was almost two heads taller than her already. “Or do you want me to climb up and carry you down?”

“N-No!” She pouted, offended by the mere suggestion. “I will jump now!” And without waiting another moment she jumped.

Blaidd had been just a heartbeat to slow. With an ugly cracking sound she landed on the ground, crying out in pain and holding her arm on which she had fallen. Her shadow was in an utter panic. “Ranni! Oh no... I-I didn't mean...”

“I-I think my arm is b-broken”, she said in between sobs and sure enough, the arm was bending in a rather unnatural way, bone almost piercing through the pale skin of the princess. The girl was shaking and Blaidd, nothing more than a nine year old boy himself, didn't know what to do. What would Queen Rennala do if he brought her daughter back hurt, despite his duty being to protect her? Would she shun him? Cast him out like the dog he was? Not to think of the rage he would receive from Lord Radagon.

“We need to find a healer”, he said despite his racing heart. There probably would be dire consequences for his failure, but before he could think about himself he would first have to make sure Ranni was safe and taken care of.

Ranni just nodded and followed him, as he started to head towards Caria manor. When they stepped into the big yard, a guard came rushing to them as soon as he saw the princess crying and holding her arm.

“Princess Ranni! Are you hurt?” The man glared at Blaidd. “Did you hurt her, you mongrel?”

Upon being called a mongrel, Blaidd laid back his ears and stared to the ground. He hated that word so much. It made him aware of how different he was and how he would never fit in. While Ranni came around to tolerate him, the rest of the Carian court was very much suspicious and even hostile towards him.

“What might be the reason for this commotion?”, a soft voice inclined and Blaidd wanted to sink into the ground. He wanted to become invisible so he wouldn't have to see the Carian queen look at him disappointed.

Ranni, upon seeing her mother, sobbed and ran to her. “O my little sweeting.” Rennala hugged her child comforting, careful not to touch the broken arm. “What happened?”

“We played and climbed up a tree... I wanted to catch her, but failed... I.... I accept any punishment for failing you.” Blaidd answered in Ranni's stead and barely dared to look into the ice blue eyes of the queen.

“Don't be mad with Blaidd, mother! 'Twas mine own fault!” The little princess pleaded. Her shadow flinched and fought back tears. Now she had to defend him, even though it had been his carelessness that had landed them in this situation. He was not only an abomination, he was also a failure.

The queen didn't react immediately, instead ordering the guard that still stood by: “Bring my daughter to one of the healers.” The man nodded and together with the injured princess he walked off. Ranni looked back at her shadow, her eyes full of concern for her friend.

Blaidd felt the gaze of Rennala on him and an involuntary whimper escaped him.

“Thou needst not to fear, little Blaidd”, Rannala said and beckoned him to come closer. Hesitantly the half-wolf came closer until he was pulled into the hug by the queen. “Mishaps are bound to happen. I do not blame thee, neither doth thy sister.”

He felt like he was wrapped in cotton, unable to process what was happening. Why wasn't she mad? He had failed. He deserved punishment. “S-Sister?”

Rennala smiled at him full of warmth, wiping away the tears that had escaped his eyes without him noticing. “There might be no familiar blood in our veins, but thou art no less my son.”

His heart beat fast and now he was sobbing. With a soft laugh the queen hugged him tight. “Thou needst to promise me one thing, little Blaidd. Please watch over thy sister. Protect her from harm. Many of ill intentions will try to get ahold of her, to manipulate her. I need thee to be her shield and sword.”

He didn't fully understand what she meant, but he nonetheless nodded vigorously. “I swear it!” Again, Rennala laughed and let a hand caress over his head. “Thou art so brave, my little one.”

It had been the first time he had felt truly loved. He cherished that memory, tried to hold on to it as it slowly faded and slipped his grasp. What was happening...

They only made you believe they cared for you.

You are worthless to them.

No, they loved me!

And yet Ranni will just leave you behind? Ha!

Don't you get it, you were just a danger they

kept close so they could have an eye on you.

I...

You are a monster, nothing more. A rabid little dog.

The poisonous words started to affect his mind, so to not lose himself he tried to think of another memory. Something to remind him that he had been loved by his Empyrean.

Thunder rang out loud and Blaidd whimpered underneath his blanket. He hated thunderstorms. They were so loud it made his ears ring. He was 14, he shouldn't be scared of thunder like a little toddler!

While rain drummed against the window, he tried to sleep, but every time he drifted off, a new loud roar of thunder would frighten him.

He heard the door to his chamber open and close. Footsteps drew closer to his bed, before someone sat down on the mattress. “Art thou hiding under thy blanket, brave knight?” Ranni mocked him and Blaidd poked his head out from under the blanket. The candle still burning besides his bed illuminated his pale blue eyes. “Are you here to make fun of me?”

The princess rolled her eyes. She was still wearing her scholar robes, apparently she had spent all day in the study hall with her head buried in books again. Most of the time she shooed him away so she could have her peace and not have him sigh bored every five minutes. He refused, but she always mocked him that she'd be able to fend off all the terrifying book monsters that might attack her.

“I'm here because I wanted to look if thou'rt fairing well. I know how thunder is a blight to thee.” She tucked a strand of her red hair, that had escaped her simple hairdo, behind her ear.

He frowned and murmured: “You shouldn't. I'll manage.” A flash, followed by deafening thunder made him flinch. He growled and bared his teeth. “Fucking hell.”

Ranni sighed. “Language.”

“Easy for you to say, with being practically deaf compared to me.” He was in a sour mood and didn't feel like pleasantries. The Empyrean knew him well enough to not take offense at his little tantrum. She was a princess, but she never put much value into the straining courtesies demanded at court. The ice-witch that taught her magic since a couple of month certainly didn't mind her language around her, often cursing crudely when Ranni didn't manage to get a spell down at the first try.

Blaidd had been able to learn quite a few impressive insults from the crone.

Ranni looked down and just now did he see the book she was holding. “I brought thee a book... Whenever I have trouble to find sleep, it calmeth my mind to read this. And reading a book could serve thee well. A sharp mind harboreth the same importance as a sharp sword.” She laid the book on the bed and got up. “I shall retire for the night. Try to rest, brother.” With that she left the room.

Blaidd huffed. Why did she treat him like a child?! They were the same age! Ridiculous! And what good would a stupid book do anyways? He picked it up and glared at it... Then he opened it and started reading. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do.

The book was about the intricacies of complex glintstone magic. After just a few minutes of reading he felt like sleeping... No wonder Ranni found this lecture relaxing, it was boring beyond words! He nodded off a few times before finally giving up and surrendering to sleep.

The thunderstorm had moved on a long time ago. And just as the clouds had cleared on that night, the memory of it disappeared and only left a gaping void, which was quickly filled with more golden poison.

You naive little pup. She filed down your teeth

and yet you stand here, thanking her for it?

She did no such thing! We looked out for one another...

I was created to protect her, but she also protected me.

Yes, you were created to protect her.

If she obeys to the Greater Will.

She obviously doesn't. You have to rip her open.

Kill her! Stop her! Do your duty!

No! I will not hurt her!

She did not care when she got you into trouble.

Why care what happens to her?

Blaidd remembered a mild summer night, atop the roofs of the academy of Raya Lucaria. It was almost like he was back there, smell the stuffy air after the rainfall and feel the sweat running down his brow.

Ranni stood before him, peering down the edge of the roof, before she turned around in a slightly wonky manner and pouted. “No cat.” Her cheeks were red and her eyes glassy. It was rather clear she was drunk out of her mind. So was he, though he had hold back a little to be at least somewhat capable of stopping her from doing something too stupid.

… That hadn't stopped them from making it their mission to hunt for that mysterious cat that was rumored to inhabit the roofs of the academy. They were 19 years old, adults by the standards of their house... that didn't mean they were very wise, though. The evening had started normal enough, until the princess had overindulged in the wine at dinner. She often did, when her mother wasn't there to reprimand her.

Ranni put a hand to her chin and hummed in thought. “Mayhaps... Mayhaps... hmm.” Her features lit up and she raised an index finger. “I know! Above the library. Cats do love heights!”

“Ain't that birds?” Blaidd mumbled doubtfully, but the princess was already set on her next location for searching. He followed her with a disgruntled expression, fully aware their risk of getting in trouble was doubling by walking through the academy in the state they were in. Ranni was of course absolutely unbothered, even skipping and humming a little, as they hurried down the dark corridors.

Her happy demeanor immediately changed when a familiar voice called out: “Ranni?” The princess froze, eyes wide, as she slowly turned around. Queen Rennala slowly approached the two of them, her emotions hidden behind a face of indifference. “Tis late. What is thy business here?”

“O mother... how... unexpected, to encounter thee here”, Ranni smiled in her best effort to hide the state she was in. Rannala merely raised an eyebrow and pointed towards the dark wooden door they were standing by. “Tis surprising to thee to encounter me by mine office?”

“Ah”, was the eloquent response of her daughter. Blaidd groaned and quickly chimed in, before his idiotic Empyrean could make the situation even worse. “We were on the way to the north tower for stargazing.”

“At a night where the sky is covered by clouds?” Now the queen was crossing her arms and there was clear disapproval visible in her features.

“Ah”, answered the Shadow full of wit. Rennala sighed , before she took another step forward, her gaze cold and attentive. “Thou art drunk. Both of ye.”

Ranni rolled her eyes. “I am slightly tipsy at best, no need to overly dramatize... outch, outch, outch!” She squirmed, when her mother pinched her at the ear and pulled the princess by it inside her office. Blaidd clicked his tongue and followed with listless steps, ready to get a stern lecture from his mother.

A few hours later they had found themselves back at the manor of house Caria, sitting in ice-baths to sober up. And oh did they sober up fast... Despite the verbal bashing they had received, he still had to smile at this memory... they had been a pain to Rennala, causing her worries en mass. But she always remained calm and almost amused at their antics.

He felt how irritated that cold voice got, when he cherished the memory it had shown him, rather than agree with it that Ranni had been nothing but trouble.

Shielding yourself from the truth?

She used you, you were never her equal.

You are wrong. She never put herself above me.

You will never understand a true bond, blinded

as you are by blind faith.

Memories of a promise rose to the surface, but he desperately tried to push them away. He didn't want to forget them too...

“'Tis a farce”, Ranni hissed and gripped her glass of wine tighter. Her gaze was burning with hatred and directed at her father, King Consort Radagon, sitting besides Godqueen Marika. “I'm supposed to just smile. Be a good little daughter.” She took a swig from her glass, emptying it. It hadn't been her first this evening.

They had been invited to the capital to celebrate the ten year anniversary of the union between Radagon and Marika. Members of both the house of gold and the house of the moon were present. Ranni first didn't want to go, however, her brother Praetor Rykard had dragged her along.

Blaidd didn't know what to say. He had never been good at calming the Lunar Princess down, especially not when she was already determined to be pissed. Though she hid it most of the time, she had quite the temperament. She was much like her mother in that regard. Measured and calculating, until driven over the edge. And especially easy to provoke when it came to family matters. “The food is really good, don't you think?”

“Compose thyself!” Rykard nudged his little sister reprimanding and she pulled a grimace. “I know not how thou canst endure looking at this... this insult and not seethe!”

The Praetor clicked his tongue. “Acting like a child is not the solution, Ranni.” He raised his eyebrows. “And looking at father like thou art about to skewer him with thy fork will not help either.”

Theatrically she rolled her eyes. “It would be naught but a little poking.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Thou'rt an overgrown toddler.”

She leaned towards Blaidd. “Just because he hath that ridiculous beard, he doth think he-” Rykard nudged his sister again, this time a little less gentle. Ranni gasped, before she retaliated against her brother by poking her finger into his side, making him squirm.

Radahn, towering at the end of the table, watched his siblings with raised eyebrows. “One might assume the two of you grew up by now.” The general had renounced the formal way of speech, since he was almost exclusively in company of soldiers. They would never take him seriously if he talked in a swollen manner.

“She started it!”, Rykard huffed and Ranni looked at him in disbelieve. “Thou canst lie without blushing!”

“Pipsqueak”, the Praetor sneered.

Blaidd sighed and hung his head low. Ranni hated to be called that, as she was the smallest in her family and always struggled with that. Sure enough, the Lunar Princess huffed in righteous indignation. Then she slammed her fist, still holding the fork, on the table.

“Gnashgap.”

“Cow.”

“Donkey.”

“Dalcop!”

“Fopdoodle!”

The Praetor glared at his sister, until a woman sitting besides him put a hand on his arm. Lady Tanith, with a smile audible in her voice, said: “While this quarreling is rather amusing to watch, I ask of both of you to keep in mind where we are.”

While Rykard gave his consort a warm smile, Ranni just crossed her arms and grumbled indignantly. Blaidd had to admit, she really looked like a child that just got reprimanded. Radahn merely shook his head. “How am I related to those fools...”

“Well, tis obvious who did not inherit any sense of humor”, Rykard mumbled into his glass of wine and Ranni snickered. “Or any of the good looks.” Both the oldest and the youngest of the Carian siblings laughed, while the middle one glared at them. “You are cruel. Both of you.”

“I feel we are just extraordinarily funny. Dost thou agree, sister?” He looked over to Ranni, who hummed in agreement. “Positively hilarious, if I might say so myself.” In a show of care she smiled at him. “But worry not, dear Radahn. I am certain there are circles where thy humor might earn agreement and one or another chuckle.” The general pouted and turned, to not look at his siblings anymore. Much to the amusement of them, making them laugh once more.

Blaidd, while amused by the display of banter, was very careful not to draw any attention towards himself. Rykard and Ranni were like vultures with carrion in that regard, they would be upon him with sharp words should he make any wrong move.

A servant filled up Ranni's glass with wine and when he was gone, the princess leaned back in her chair. Her eyes as cold as the magic she used, she said while swirling the crimson liquid in the glass: “Just ye wait, Blaidd. This dog of the Greater Will shall pay.” Her eyes darted towards Marika. “They all shall.”

“Whatever you do, I'll be at your side.” Blaidd looked at her with a firm expression and she smiled softly. “I know, my dear brother. I know.” She laid a hand on his arm, before resuming her dinner. A lot calmer than before.

The memory faded, her features... how did Ranni look again before she discarded her body she was born in? Desperately he tried to remember anything, but he couldn't. There was only darkness.

With a howl of frustration he slammed his fist against his temples, trying to force his brain to obey. That cold voice was still there, relishing in his despair as he lost himself piece by piece. Memory by memory.

You watched her slip into madness.

What good was your protection? Useless!

You already failed.

I wasn't there when she needed me most...

But I tried to make up for it. Everything I could.

Empty words upon empty words.

She really had an effect on who you are.

From a pious follower of your master,

to a trained dog of a heretical wench!

The Greater Will only brings suffering!

Blaidd recalled a rainy and glum day, many years ago.

He hadn't seen Ranni for three days now. Ever since she had returned from her visit to Raya Lucaria she had shut herself inside her rise, not talking to anyone. Usually Blaidd would leave her be. She wanted to be alone and he respected that.

However, he knew how sensitive she was when it came to her mother. That she reacted like she did after looking for Queen Rennala alarmed him. He knew she wouldn't appreciate his visit, but he had to make sure she was okay.

“Leave. I wish to be alone”, was her response when he climbed the last set of stairs to the top of the tower. Blaidd hesitated for a moment, then he entered nonetheless. “You've been up here for three days. What's wrong?” She stood by one of the windows, her back turned towards him.

“I told thee to leave me.” Ranni didn't even turn around, so it was impossible to see any emotions. They were very audible, however. Her voice was glum and slightly shaky. Slowly he stepped closer and when he stood beside her, he carefully placed a hand on her shoulder. He didn't look down to her, but instead gazed out of the window. “Is it that bad?”, he merely asked.

His simple question made her react. She shivered slightly and her shoulders slouched. “She didn't recognize me, Blaidd.” Her voice was so full of sorrow and heartache it made him choke up. “Mine own mother didn't recognize me. She just... I know not what to do.”

“O Ranni...” For the first time he looked into her face. As always the doll face showed next to no emotion, but the spectral reflection was marked with grieve. She looked up at him. “And because of this accursed form I cannot even cry for her.” Ranni shook her head. “Tis my fault. Had I not...”

“You are not at fault. What happened to the queen is the fault of no one but the Greater Will. It took Lord Radagon from her and forced you to slay your own body to free yourself. Don't blame yourself.”

“Who but myself shall I blame? My mother hath been on the brink of madness when my father left, but my selfish actions pushed her over the edge.” Angrily she clenched her fists. “Tis unjust.”

As her shadow he had a tight bond with her, which not only made it impossible for him to exist without her, it also functioned like a bridge between the emotions of the two. It was dim, but noticeable. Especially when Ranni was tormented by emotions, like she was in this moment. Hatred. Anger. Sadness.

With a little sigh he sat down on the floor. He knew how much she hated it when she had to look up at him when talking, so he made it easier for her. “Beating yourself up won't make it better.” Her eye flared up with anger and he raised a hand. “Take revenge by succeeding in your plan. Tear the Greater Will down and set your order in motion. You've said it yourself; the dark path his lonely and filled with hardship.”

She looked lost in thought, then her features softened slightly. “Thou'rt right...” She leaned forward and placed one cold hand on his cheek. “I thank thee. For always protecting me... even from myself.”

And with that, even this memory disappeared. His resistance grew weak and that voice in his head took advantage of it.

You have to find her, Shadow.

Avenge her insult towards your master.

He could no longer repress the anger rising inside of him. Anger for that girl, that dared to trample over the plans of his master. Blaidd shook his head, trying to fend off the influence of the God. “No. I'm part of her very being! I could never betray her. No matter what might happen.” He breathed heavily and his speech was slurred, as it grew increasingly hard. He didn't want to go... he didn't want to lose who he was. Tears welled up in his eyes, as he realized that this fight was in vain. “Ranni... She needs me...”

All his memories were muddled and slowly disappearing. One by one. Until there was nothing left. The Shadow looked around, so confused where he was. There was a pull in the back of his mind, something that spurred him on to hunt for someone. That heretic, that dared to bring harm towards the messenger of the Greater Will.

I need to find her! I need to kill her!

He saw the vague outline of two figures approaching him. A man and a woman, judging from their clothing. As his eyes fell on the women, he immediately knew that she was the one he needed to find. She was small and apparently unarmed, though the man walking besides her wasn't. It didn't matter, he would dispatch of him too.

Kill her. I need to kill her.

He bolted forward, towards that small woman clad in white. Her open eye went wide when she watched him charge at her, his teeth bared and his blade ready. He would maul her. Cut her to pieces.

Evil. She is evil. Yes.

“Blaidd, stop!”, the man accompanying the woman shouted horrified.

Who is Blaidd? Am I Blaidd?

No... No, I am a shadow. A shadow born to protect the Golden One.

He was upon her, faster than the man was able to react. With strong arms he grabbed the dainty frame of the woman, ready to rip her into two. A guttural growl escaped him in anticipation. She stared at him, expression so full of sorrow. Then she closed her eye and the shadow flinched surprised as a blade pierced his side. He looked down, a black dagger burrowed deep into his flesh.

When he looked back at the woman, her face was contorted by pain. “Why...”, she whispered with a voice so weak and shaky it was barely audible. Why was she reacting like this? He was the one dying, not her...

Why are you sad? It was you who dealt the blow...

This blade was enchanted with some dark magic. He knew it. Each second passing he felt himself grow weaker and weaker. Breathing became hard. Standing impossible. As he fell to his knees, the woman put a hand on his cheek. It was cold.

“Let go”, she whispered, her voice still shaking like she was about to start crying at any moment. Her voice... it felt so familiar, yet so foreign. It reminded him of something...

“Please. Tis alright for thee to let go”, she caressed his cheek, a sad blue eye looking at him full of adoration and pain. “Rest now, brother.”

He remembered what that voice meant to him. What that woman had been to him for all of his life.

Home.

Chapter Text

The Fingerslayer Blade dropped to the ground, as Ranni let it slip out of her hand. Her brother, who had stood before her just mere seconds ago, was gone. Dissolved into ash and nothing. Gone. And due to the blade he was killed with, he would never come back.

She took a step back, only one at first, before she took another. The pain searing through her heart was unbearable, it felt like she was torn asunder by her feelings. There was an emptiness inside of her, where there used to be her connection with Blaidd. A part of herself died with him.

“O dear brother...”, she whimpered, desperately trying to find a vent for all the emotions coursing through her. Sadness. Anger. Sheer hopelessness. She couldn't cry. She couldn't sob. She couldn't even take a shaky breath. All she could do, was stare in horror. It was cruel, to still be able to feel, and yet be unable to properly express it.

A pair of strong hands on her shoulders ripped her from her trance. Constantine tried his best to show her he was there for her, to give her something to hold on to. He said nothing, just held her. Ranni focused on the feelings he elicited in her, dragging her from her daze back into the presence. “I should have known...”

He hugged her tighter. “How could you? He resisted the Greater Will for all those years, it was fair to assume he-”

“I should have known!” She freed herself from his embrace. “Mine own mind once hath been controlled by that treacherous... It only waited for the best opportunity to hurt me... To punish me for resisting.” Blaidd was one of many who had to suffer the consequences of her actions. She was able to see beyond the suffering... most of the time. But at moments like this, she asked herself if the goal really justified the means.

Her consort looked at her with something akin to pity in his eyes. Ranni didn't appreciate that. “Do not look at me like that, Constantine. I require no pity.”

At that he sighed. “I don't feel pity. It is just... how long have you already endured this? This circle of... misery? Because I can only remember a few weeks, and yet it already feels like more than one lifetime worth of suffering. So I can't even imagine how it must be for you.”

His words hit exactly when she was already faltering. A wave of exhaustion washed over her and her shoulders dropped. Her voice cracked when she said: “It is all too much.” With listless steps she walked towards one of the ruins, before she sat down and leaned against the crumbling wall. “Too much loss. Too much pain. Too much... everything.” She shook her head. “For all of it to not be in vain, I have to remain steadfast. But sometimes... sometimes, my Lord, I just want to give up.”

Ranni waited for a damning reaction to her weakness. How could he not condemn her for those selfish thoughts? So many people gave their lives for her and her cause, and here she sat, talking about giving up. Surely, that deserved his contempt.

Constantine sat down besides her, not saying anything and she didn't dare to look into his face. To see scorn in those usually warm features... she couldn't bear it. When he spoke, his voice was sad, but also extremely soft. “I had moments like that too on points of my journey. When I was denied entrance to the Erdtree. When I realized that there was no way to progress, unless I sacrifice my companion to flames... When I sacrificed her. And so many more moments. Including this moment right here... I just want to curl up and let fate take me.”

She listened to him, to his pain he was sharing with her just like she had. A need to touch him overcame her, so she took his hand into hers and held it tightly. He understood her. Constantine wasn't appalled by her moment of weakness, but instead showed her that he understood. It reinforced her decision to make him her lord and have him walk alongside her through the darkness. Because just like her, he had already faced it.

“But I never gave in to it and neither did you, my Lady. And that is the most important part. It is alright to feel like giving up sometimes. Because if we weren't affected by all the pain and suffering... then we would be no better than the God that caused all of it.” He laughed slightly embarrassed. “I guess what I want to say with those haughty words, is that you shouldn't feel bad for being overwhelmed sometimes. And I want you to know that whenever you should need someone to confide in, then I am there for you.”

“Thou'rt claiming to only possess over the memories of a few weeks... and yet thy insight and compassion maketh thee wise beyond thy years. Remarkable.” She leaned her head against the cold stone behind her, pressing her hat flat against it. “I base my wisdom on what knowledge I've gained from books and scrolls. It leaveth me woefully unprepared for some of the challenges life doth tend to pose.” Her smile had some mirth in it. “I am happy to have thee at my side, Constantine.”

Her consort returned her smile in the same mixture of sadness and affection. “We make quite the pair, eh?”

Ranni laughed a little at that. “It is said that demigods are prone to madness. Mayhaps tis the reason I felt drawn to thee. An anchor to mine ever slipping mind.” It remained to be seen whether he would keep her from drifting away, or if he would pull her into the depths.

Constantine raised an eyebrow and huffed amused. “Oh my, then you are doomed.” There was this cheeky spark in his eyes. “Well, at least we are together while slipping into madness?”

That made her laugh again, this time actually cheery. “There is no other I rather go mad with.” He put an arm around her and drew her closer to him. His warmth so close to her eased her mind and she closed her eye for a moment, just enjoying this. The pain of loss was still pounding in the back of her mind, like a fresh burn. Constantine's presence was like a healing salve on that open sore.

But of course, everything good had it's end. “Ranni... There is something I need to address.” The tenseness in his voice was palpable and she raised her head from his shoulder to look at him. He didn't return her gaze. “I talked with another Tarnished... he told me that there are more Gods than the Greater Will in the Lands Between. Is that true?”

Ranni was surprised by that question and wondered where it came from. “In theory yes. Tis true that these Lands are influenced by more than merely the Greater Will. There are other entities reaching for power, but tis the Greater Will that holds the most of it. For it nameth the Empyreans and hence the figures in political power. They are not present in a physical form, rather influencing from afar.”

A moment of silence passed, before Constantine got to his feet and took a few steps forward. His back turned to her, he muttered: “So Gideon was right... Ah fuck...”

Taken aback by his cursing, she pursed her lips in disapproval. “Might I ask why it is thou'rt asking this question?” When he scoffed she couldn't help but raise her eyebrows, but she remained silent.

Instead of answering, he asked another question. “Those Gods... they are hiding out there, right? Just out of reach, pulling the strings.” He still had his back turned to her. “And Empyreans are their way of enforcing their will?”

Ranni, still sitting against the wall, nodded before she realized he probably didn't see it. “Yes. At least tis the case with the Greater Will. The other deities are struggling for influence in a battle never ending. Their acolytes might take a different form.”

“You want to take on the title of God, prying away the power from the Greater Will and leave these lands to their own merits... Don't you think your solution is rather short sighted?” It was the first time he openly questioned her and her vision. And she couldn't deny that it slightly rubbed her the wrong way. Not that he questioned her goal, but much rather the timing for it. She just lost her brother and was obviously in need for some comfort... instead he decided to confront her?

With a furrowed brow she got to her feet. “Doubts trouble thee. Mayhaps I-”

Constantine looked back at her over his shoulder, the look out of his eyes making her stop in her tracks. There was genuine doubt and a surprising cold in it. “Is it your plan to just leave those other Gods to rip this land into pieces in their struggle for power? Because that will happen if you just leave.” He squinted his eyes. “Ranni... You are the most intelligent person I know, surely you have some other plan.”

His rejection stung, but she pushed the feeling of betrayal down. “Thou'st grown quite comfortable addressing me this informally.”

“Answer my question.” His demand was brash and cold. Ranni felt another wave of anger roll over her and now it was her who squinted her eye at him. “Enough! Thou art not one to demand from me in this manner and thou wouldst do well to remember that, Tarnished!”

“And what about your Dark Moon? Is it just another god? Will you exchange a god who's spite you've earned for one who favors you?” He averted his gaze from her, his shoulders tense. When he drew his sword – the greatsword she had gifted to him as her consort – she felt her heart drop. A spike of fear shot up her spine and she almost expected him to turn around and attack her. Instead he burrowed the sharp tip of the sword in the dirt and sighed. His voice cracked, when he said: “Did... did you deceive me?” It was obvious he wouldn't attack her, but another concern rose in her chest... would he leave her side?

“Constantine...”, she tried weakly, but he surprised her once again when he turned around, this time fully facing her. The sadness in his features and the tears brimming in his eyes were enough to make her stop and just stare at him. “I-I am sorry I chose this moment... I know I should hold you and give you a shoulder to lean on, rather than cause you more distress. But...” He shakily drew breath, tears falling to the ground. “But seeing Blaidd discarded just like that... Seeing once again how little the Gods care for us, it just makes me so angry. So incredibly angry to see them trample over our lives... I can barely put it into words.”

Hesitantly she stepped closer to him and took his hands into hers. “I know how thou must feel. The rage over their indifference is a thing I've never been able to completely let go of. Twas... tis a reason I swore myself that no God would hold dominion over me ever again. And tis a reason I swear that no God will ever dictate the life of anyone ever again.”

“For that to become a reality, it is not enough to just usurp the current God. The Greater Will is just one of many.” His answer had her blink in surprise. Of course she knew that. Did he think her to be stupid?

Slowly calming her anger, she sighed. “Mayhaps tis mine own fault thou'rt doubtful of mine intentions... I...” Her words became more and more quiet, as she faltered.

Ranni wasn't good with openly speaking about her flaws. Not out of some stupid sense of vanity. She wasn't perfect and she was more than aware of it, looking back at many mistakes in her past. It was out of fear. If Constantine saw her for the flawed being she was... would he no longer trust in her and her vision? Because what if it was just another mistake on her way? A miscalculation with disastrous consequences.

Mustering up some confidence, she stepped back from him and folded her hands in her usual manner. “Leaving the Lands Between; tis not the end to mine order. Tis to fend off any and all divine influence. To keep them at bay, far removed from here. The Dark Moon is not a God, tis a force of nature. A force I am in communion with, to harbor its power and be able to contest with those outer gods.” To reaffirm her bravado, she added: “The fact thou wouldst think my plan so incomplete doth offend me.”

Constantine looked at her with an unreadable expression, which was quite unusual for him and made her nervous all over again. “When I leave, I want there to be true freedom for all. No more meddling with people's mind. No more wars for the Elden Ring. I will not leave before the Lands Between are free of any and all influence of those monsters. You said it yourself, there are still followers of the other Gods around. ”

Of course Ranni knew, how could she not. After all, one of her half-siblings was cursed by one of those other Gods. She hadn't been idle all the years she had to wait for her fate to continue. Knowledge was power, it was a simple fact. And though she never had been interested in participating in the continuous struggle over power in the Lands Between, she wasn't careless by disregarding it completely.

Evidence of more than just the God of Rot trying to grab for the Lands Between had reached her, unsettling her quite a bit. Blood, Chaos, Death, Rot and the intangible horrors waiting in the cosmos. Ranni shook her head. “And what is it thou'rt suggesting? Facing death over and over again? Mayhaps thy mind is already gone and that is the reason why thou wouldst spout such madness.”

Constantine sighed, but he didn't sound annoyed with her. “I promised someone that I would make this a better place. And I can't break that promise, Ranni.” He cleared his throat, a somewhat proud spark in his eyes. “The Golden Order once was nothing more but some small cult. And look what happened. We can not allow to not sever all threads before we leave.”

It irked her to no small measure, that she had to admit he was right. “So thou wouldst throw thyself towards death for some prospect of improvement?” Her voice was dire and he cocked his head with that stupidly handsome crooked smile. “Didn't you do the same once?”

That made her blink in surprise and when she realized the truth behind his words, she grumbled disgruntled: “That was low.” He chuckled, before getting to one knee before her. “I am yours. I always will be. But you have to allow me this, my Lady. For all the friends I lost along the way... I have to do better by them.”

She looked into his brown eyes, that were so full of adoration and love. Drawing the attention of the outer gods towards them... it was like putting a target on their backs. What he was suggesting was madness, it would risk everything she had worked for. Only a fool would agree to his request. And Ranni was no fool.

But those accursed puppy-eyes...

“Fine.” Purposefully she looked away from him.

He gently took one of her hands and pressed her knuckles against his lips. “Thank you, my beloved.” Her lips twitched in a smile that tried to force its way to her features and of course he noticed, so he said in a sultry tone: “You have the most beautiful smile.” Her efforts to suppress the smile failed and she couldn't help but give in to it.

“Ridiculous”, she huffed and looked down at her consort. “Thou art ridiculous. For all the healthy reason lacking, thou'rt making up for with charm.”

Still a little clumsy regarding the whole romantic relationship situation, she was unsure of what to do next. Ranni wanted to kiss him, but it felt a little weird after the argument they just had. So instead she leaned forward and put a soft kiss on his forehead. This was good, right? Oh with all the books she read in her life, none had prepared her for how to react in a situation like this.

“I love you”, he whispered and instinctively she wanted to return those words, but stopped herself last second. She didn't really know what love was... at least this kind of love. How did it feel? Like there was someone constantly pulling on her heartstrings and like millions of butterflies danced in her stomach? Like she never wanted to have another day in her life without Constantine at her side? Because she fulfilled those criteria with ease...

She could ask him, but she feared he would laugh at her. So instead of opening herself up for embarrassment, she just cleared her throat. “My dear consort... Let us ponder no longer. With today's events, there lieth more work ahead of us than ever before. The fights we will face surely won't be easy.”

Constantine got to his feet, a somewhat panicked expression on his face. “I did not intend to pull you into the fights! I merely ask of you to wait for me, before we leave together.”

Ranni raised an eyebrow and shifted her weight to her right leg, her arms crossed. “Art thou really thinking I would allow my consort to throw himself into fights against Gods without me? And expect me to agree with that? O Constantine, thou'rt misjudging my character.”

“But you said it yourself! It is basically suicide... I can't possibly risk your life!” He frowned deeply. “As long as you are alive, the age you envision can still happen. I will not jeopardize that or your safety!”

“Tis sweet thou'rt pursuing that intention, but sadly my word is final in this regard.” She put a hand to his cheek, caressing over it and taking the spike out of her words. “Thou art mine... And I am thine. The one cannot be without the other. If thou art set on fighting the Gods, then I will be at thy side.” She saw his lower lip quiver and chuckled. “My dogged champ-” Before she was able to end her sentence, he pressed his lips onto hers and literally stole the words out of her mouth.

After the moment of surprise settled, she eagerly returned the kiss. That was another thing she was very inexperienced and unsure about... Did she do it right? Despite having lived a respectable amount of years, she only ever kissed one person before Constantine. And that kiss had happened in a mix of juvenile curiosity and drunken stupor. She barely remembered it, though she remembered it had been with that one stable-boy... and that it had been rather awful.

When she broke off the kiss, she tried overplaying her own awkwardness by smiling a somewhat sly smile. “How impolite of thee, cutting thy Lady off like that.” He grinned cheekily and she found herself completely enamored with him and his outrageous ways. With a sound of disbelieve she shook her head. “Not even a morsel of remorse.”

He gave her another kiss; a soft peck on the lips. “Never. Not for this.” Constantine's smile slowly faded and his tone became serious when he said: ”We... we should tell Iji about Blaidd.”

Ranni sighed and nodded. “We should.” The old smith would be devastated by the news, she knew it. After all, Iji cared just as much about Blaidd as he did for her. Just thinking about telling him about the death of her brother made her tense up and she wrung the lower set of hands.

In a careful motion Constantine laid an arm around her shoulders. “Remember. You are not alone in this.” She leaned against him, as they started walking, still arm in arm. “I know, my dear...” Cuddled close to him, she felt safe. Even though they were ready to declare war on the gods, she felt protected and content.

Let them come.

Chapter Text

They walked side by side, their steps leisurely. It felt so... normal. As if they were just a couple, enjoying a casual stroll on a late evening. Surrounded by the grounds of the manor she had grown up in, Ranni allowed herself to lose herself in that fantasy for a moment. The Lord and Lady of house Caria. Not the Tarnished and the Witch.

She often contemplated how her life would've turned out if she had not been born an Empyrean. Where would she be now? In the halls of the Academy, devoted to her studies? Atop the throne of Caria, governing Liurnia? Or would she be on a grand journey, like she had always dreamed of as a girl ever since her bother's consort, Tanith, had told her about her home? Exploring foreign lands, seeing the world outside of the constant influence of the Erdtree.

Ranni looked over to her consort. Sweet and caring Constantine. He, who accepted her for who she was. Who didn't judge her for her mistakes, but rather stood by her side to correct them. She decided that no matter what might've happened if she had been dealt different cards in life... this was just perfect. And she wouldn't want to miss it for anything. In a flight of affection washing over her, she took his arm and held it close. He gave her a soft smile and intertwined his fingers with hers.

Never had she thought that anyone could elicit such emotions in her. She had always assumed that all the talk of love was a product of amorous fools, blinded by their feelings. Now she experienced first hand that there was a lot of truth behind the babbling of those fools...

“We should head for Leyndell, after we're done here. I feel it's the best course”, Constantine said, ripping her from her warm and fuzzy thoughts back into the hard and cold reality. “Mh-hm”, she hummed in agreement. “There might be scrolls as to where the devotees of the outer Gods reside. The great library of the capitol is quite vast.”

“Unless you plan on digging through layers upon layers of ash, I don't think we'll be able to get to the library anymore.” He clicked his tongue. “How annoying.”

She swayed her head, a smile in her voice. “It serveth them right for building their monuments beneath the Erdtree. Twas bound to happen. Though tis a shame for all the knowledge lost in this calamity.” Despite harboring a profound hatred towards anything to do with the Golden Order, she still was saddened by the loss of so many tomes and scrolls. As an adolescent she had been forced to spend a few weeks in the capital. To make a big show of how the house of the moon was still on friendly terms with Leyndell, despite Radagon's betrayal.

That library had been her shelter from the constant bombardment of artificial pleasantries the noblemen and -women had thrown her way. Just dim lit corridors and the dusty smell of old books. Ranni had felt much more safe there, by herself, than she had at court, surrounded by guards in their shining golden armors. Far removed from the watchful gaze of the Eternal.

Marika had always made an effort to be so sickly sweet towards her stepdaughter. Ranni more than once had felt the desire to just hurl straight onto her feet when the woman tucked a strand of her red hair behind her ear, and saying how she looked like “a lost ray of moonlight” amid the glamour of the Erdtree. Just remembering that snake giving her a motherly smile caused revulsion to rise in her.

Radagon had at least enough sense to avoid her most of the time, especially after his one attempt of trying to explain himself to his daughter. The bitter and hateful insults Ranni had thrown at him obviously were enough to deter him from pursuing his pitiful attempts of mending things with her. It enraged her thinking about this sadness in his eyes, when she had told him how she would ever forgive him, and that she despised him and everything he stood for. The audacity, to feign sadness after all he had done!

“You've had your eyes and ears open a while longer than me. Did you maybe hear some rumors regarding any sects or straggler churches?” His question made her chuckle. “Such a charming way of telling me I'm older than thee.”

“That was not what I meant... You know that!” He pouted, before he frowned. “I don't even know how old I am... Man, that's depressing.”

“We should ask Iji about any information regarding the outer gods. He gathered all the information in the past for me, together with Blaidd.” She tried to digress him from his obvious frustration about his lack of memory. “If taking all of the Great Runes with us is among our goals, then we should probably set to either the Haligtree or Volcano Manor.”

“Haligtree?”

“Tis the home of my half-siblings, Miquella and Malenia. Both are not only Empyrean, but also in possession of a Great Rune”, she explained, calling to mind that Constantine didn't know a lot of things she took for granted. Though through his inquisitive nature he learned fast.

Constantine didn't say anything for a moment, before he carefully interjected: “We also have to visit the academy for the Great Rune your mother holds.” Ranni stared ahead, keeping in motion and trying to suppress the sorrow that inevitably tried to force its way into her heart. “Thou'rt right.”

“We won't hurt her.” His voice was soft and she huffed joylessly. “We will. Prying the accursed egg from her... I feel inclined to say it will break her, but naught is left to be broken.” She shook her head. “Worry not, Constantine. The pitiful creature in the library is not my mother. Tis a husk.”

They continued their walk in silence for a while, before her consort quietly said: “You say that, because you want to feel that way. But I know you don't actually do so. The truth is that you still care deeply for your mother, and I will do everything in my might to secure her safety.”

“Fascinating how thou canst judge my feelings better than me, apparently”, she answered bitterly, which earned her an exasperated sigh from him. “And you call me stubborn.”

Ranni averted her gaze. He was right. She wondered how he had such patience with her and her unwillingness to open up to him and fully trust in him. It wasn't like she didn't want to... She just had been betrayed one too many times in the past, by people she trusted. To overplay her own insecurity, she merely answered: “Well, there is reason to why we ended up together.”

“One day, my Lady”, he hummed and she frowned. “What?”

No answer, just that smug little smirk on his lips and she narrowed her eye. “What?!” He just shrugged his shoulders and she grumbled: “Irritating man...”

“Well, there is reason to why we ended up together”, was his answer and she stopped in her tracks to stare at him, almost feeling like there was a nervous twitch in the corner of her eye. Of course that wasn't possible, given the anatomy of her body. “Is... is that how thou perceivest me?”

“Only when you refuse to answer my questions and rather throw cryptic ramblings at me.” Constantine smirked and cocked his head. “Infuriating, isn't it?” He wasn't searching for an argument, but rather tried to make some lighthearted fun. She saw it in the mischievous spark in his eyes.

Ranni huffed and decided to go with it. “I-I am so sorry, my Lord. I did not intend to... to irritate you with careless words”, she said, purposefully changing her voice to sound deeper, while theatrically clutching two hands to her chest. Constantine frowned and pouted. “I don't sound like that...”

In another exaggerated motion she held the back of one of her hands against her forehead, as if imitating the cliché of a fainting maiden. “Oh, and now my careless behavior has irritated you once more.”

“Jerk.” He started laughing loudly and she joined in. For a moment she actually was able to forget all the pain of the past days. Oh how she wished things could always be like this... But ultimately she knew that this would never be the case.

They were close to the exit to the manor's grounds, when they heard the clear sounds of fighting. Constantine immediately drew his sword and jogged onward, to peer down the hill. There were flashes of red flame visible, down at Iji's forge and Ranni immediately felt worry creep up her spine. Those were the flames of death. “Iji!”

Her consort, standing besides her, tightened his grip on the hilt of the blade. “You stay back, I take care of this.” She wanted to interject, but he had already called for Torrent and before she was even able to hold him back he was in full gallop towards the fight. Her mind immediately went to the worst case scenario, imagining how her beloved was pierced by one of the enchanted blades through the chest.

Of course, she wouldn't stand back. He underestimated her quite a bit. Just as she was ready to get moving, she heard the quiet sound of steps behind her. Immediately she turned, just barely escaping the black blade that was aimed at her back.

Three Black Knife Assassins loomed over her, the features of the women concealed by their black hoods. One of them stepped forward. Though impossible to make out her identity by her face, Ranni immediately knew who was standing before her, when the woman said: “Long time no see, freak.”

Oh great...

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The Black Knife Assassin screamed, gurgling blood, as the Dark Moon Greatsword pierced her through the chest and turned her to kebab. Constantine grunted and pulled back his blade, before decapitating her in another blow.

A massive hammer crushed into the floor, not too far from his back and he cursed. When her twirled around, he saw that Iji crushed an assassin that had been in the process of sneaking up on him from behind. The force and weight of the hammer had crushed the woman with ease, leaving behind nothing but a bloody pulp of viscera and armor.

“Thanks, big guy”, Constantine said and the smith gave him a quick nod, before swinging his hammer once more to hit an assassin in the mid of her jump. Bones broke audibly and she didn't get back up. The Tarnished didn't have much time to admire the strength of his comrade-in-arms, as he almost got hit by another Black Knife charging at him.

Quickly he held his blade up, blocking the enchanted blade that scraped over the steel with an ear-piercing screech. He cringed at the sound, worried about the gift he had received from his love. Anger rose in his chest and he kicked the woman before him against the knee. She gasped in pain and buckled.

In a last desperate effort to land that one necessary hit to him, she darted to the side, to get clear access to his unprotected flank. He still had no armor to protect him at least a little from any attacks, so even one mistake could be fatal.

Constantine dropped his sword, to have both hands free, and when the Black Knife lunged forward, he was able to grab her wrist and redirect the blade away from him. In a brutal motion he twisted the wrist, breaking it by doing that. The enchanted dagger dropped to the ground.

Before she was able to pick it back up with her other hand, he took it and rammed it into her neck. Her hood fell back, revealing a youthful face framed by long blonde hair. Golden eyes, that stared at him in absolute terror as the rune of death put a final end to her. He didn't care. In a harsh motion he opened her neck completely, sending blood spraying to the ground.

Disregarding the black dagger and instead picking up his greatsword again, he immediately searched for scratches on his blade. The other weapon had left no marks on the blue steel and Constantine sighed relieved. Tenderly he caressed over the blade, not caring about the blood on it.

He looked over to Iji, who just had dispatched of the last Black Knife. The blacksmith was breathing hard and was leaning against his hammer like a crutch. Constantine got worried. “Are you hurt?”

The troll shook his head. “Do not worry, friend. It is just old age that has me wheezing like a tea kettle.” He straightened up a bit, his joints popping quite loudly while he did. “Ahh, I really am out of practice.”

With a small smile the Tarnished looked around. There were no more assassins left standing and it appeared there were no more coming. It had been five in total. He was surprised they had been able to fend them off as well as they did. Movement ahead of him distracted him from the bloodbath.

One of the women, it was the one Iji had hit out of the air, was still alive. She was slowly crawling towards the manor. Constantine scoffed. “Let me take care of that”, he mumbled towards Iji and the smith nodded, before sitting back down behind the anvil. “Please... I need a little break.”

His steps were without any urgency, when he walked towards the heavily wounded assassin. He had no sympathy for them. They came here, to kill Blaidd and Iji... and probably also Ranni. If things would've gone smoothly for them, then they would've shown no mercy. So he had no mercy for them.

Constantine put a foot on the back of the Black Knife, pressing down on broken ribs. The woman groaned in pain, coughing up blood and writhing. The Tarnished leaned forward a little, putting more pressure on the fractured bones by doing so. “You should've played dead.”

“You have no idea who you're messing with, Tarnished”, the woman retched, as more blood filled her mouth. “The Greater Will is not to be betrayed. It will have Ranni's head, no matter how much you try to stop it.”

“Tell the Greater Will that I am not resting until it is banished from these lands.” He put the tip of his sword to the nape of her neck. “Tell it that an insignificant little Tarnished will be the one severing the ties that bind it to power.”

“Without your Empyrean you will accomplish nothing, moron.” She cackled. “You don't think we planned our attack?”

Constantine cursed and looked up the way to the manor. Sure enough, there were clear signs of a fight. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” In a swift motion he sank his blade into the neck of the assassin beneath his boot, before he turned towards Iji. “Ranni's in danger.”

Staggering and huffing the old troll got up, taking up his hammer. “Let us make haste.”

Seeing the state of the smith, he frowned. “It's best you stay here... you don't look like you're able to handle another fight.” At those words Iji dropped down and sighed. “I hate to admit that you are right... Protect her, Constantine.”

He called for Torrent and his faithful companion immediately appeared. While he basically jumped into the saddle, he shouted: “Go!” The steed dashed forward, quickly crossing the hill towards the manor.

When Constantine finally had a clear view of the fight, he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in surprise. It had been at least three assassins that had attacked Ranni... at least he guessed. One of them was shattered into hundreds of pieces into one neat pile. It was hard to tell if it was just one, or even two people scattered there.

Another body was lying on the ground, though their wounds weren't nearly as spectacular. It had a black knife – apparently her own – sticking out of her forehead. Just one last assassin remained.

Ranni was fast. He hadn't expected that level of agility from her, but she managed to evade the strikes of her assailant with ease. She wielded an intricate white catalyst, which she not only used to conjure her spells, but also to parry the blade of her enemy. Her hat was gone, probably lost somewhere during the fight.

Constantine spurred Torrent further, trying to get him to move faster, even though his companion was already giving his all. He watched as Ranni cast a spell that had the Black Knife stumble back, giving her enough room to conjure another spell. In an elegant twirl she more or less disappeared in an illusion of her Dark Moon, before she almost shot out of it and sent it flying towards her enemy. He couldn't help to be amazed by how stunningly beautiful it all looked, despite the dire situation.

When her feet touched the ground again, there was immediately hoarfrost building around her. The projectile she sent towards the Black Knife only barely missed the woman, who jumped to the side last second. The illusion of the Dark Moon left a wide area of frost.

The Tarnished reached the fighting women, just as the assassin lunged forward and managed to break though Ranni's defense, landing a heavy hit. He heard porcelain shatter and he saw red.

--------------------------------------

Ranni wasn't able to duck under the attack in time, so the fist of the assassin hit her hard. Porcelain shattered under it and she tumbled back. There was no pain despite the hard hit, only soaring anger coursing through her mind as she hit the ground.

The black knife got ready to pounce on her, to ram that curved dagger into her chest and eradicate the demigod once and for all. Just as she jolted forward, she was pulled back roughly by a hand that had closed around her ankle with an iron strength. A sound of surprise escaped her and she landed on her face rather clumsily.

Once Ranni sat up, she saw who it was that brought the woman down. Constantine pulled the assassin towards him with a brutality she hadn't expected he was capable of. While his opponent kicked for his hand, he just put his foot on her head, pushing her down into the dirt. His face was a mask of rage. Cold and merciless.

“Let go of me, you filthy-”, the woman screeched, but he brought his boot down with force, shattering teeth and cutting her off. He let go of her ankle, instead getting on top of her and starting to punch her face relentlessly, throwing her head from one side to the other with each hit. “Don't. You. Dare. Touch. Her!” He was huffing from anger and exhaustion, his knuckles red with the blood of the assassin.

Ranni was frozen in place, watching that display of brutality with both measures surprise and a strange sense of satisfaction. He did this for her. That man, usually so measured and kind, lost himself in rage completely. Just because her life had been at danger.

Slowly she got to her feet, another shard of porcelain dropping to the ground. She clicked her tongue in annoyance when she saw that the back of one of her hands was completely broken off, revealing the ropes that made up her body. Another blemish to her vessel.

As she stepped up to Constantine, he didn't stop beating the black knife. The woman wasn't moving anymore, her face beat to a bloody pulp with no discerning features left. Ranni carefully leaned forward and put two cool hands to the face of her consort, cupping it gently. “Stop.”

He did just as she said, though he held his gaze lowered. His breath was labored, when he looked at his hands that were covered in blood. The skin over his knuckles was ripped open, his own blood flowing freely and dripping onto his victim. He started shaking.

“Look at me”, Ranni commanded softly. Constantine raised his head to look at her, his face freckled with the blood-splatters from beating the assassin. There was a haze in his eyes, though it slowly cleared as he looked into hers. Tenderly she caressed over his cheeks with her thumbs. “My dear Lord...”

“She wanted to kill you”, he finally croaked, his voice raspy and frail. “She wanted... she wanted to take you. I-I couldn't...” He put his shaky and bloodied hands on hers.

There were many emotions swirling in her mind in that moment. Overshadowing all of them was an overwhelming feeling of affection. Pure and simple, yet so strong. She carefully put her second set of hands on his, figuring the cool sensation of her skin would probably feel pleasant on his puffy and sore skin and joints. “Come, get to thy feet.”

Constantine let her help him get to his feet and when he stood, they took a few steps away from the corpse laying on the ground. With a deep frown he took her hand and inspected the new damages to her form. “Does... does it hurt?”

His question was innocent and almost made her chuckle, but when she saw his worried expression she felt bad for being amused at his distress. “Nay. As bothersome as this vessel can be at times, it doth posses over a few advantages. Physical pain is a thing of the past to me.” To show him she was really just fine, she sighed exaggerated. “Though the same cannot be said about my vanity, admittedly.”

Of course, her dear consort would press an earnest kiss to the new blemish. “You are breathtakingly beautiful, Ranni.” He grinned. “Scars have a certain appeal and in the end those cracks are no different.”

“What a favorable way to put it.” She withdrew her hand from his and hesitantly, scared of the possible answer, she asked: “Iji.. Is he well?”

Her consort nodded. “He is exhausted, but he lives. I have to say, he's one hell of a fighter.”

She smiled relieved. “Yes, he truly is. Though time hath left his marks on him.” He looked at her with a questioning look. “How is it he ages, while the rest of the Lands Between don't?”

“He was born outside of Grace. Hence the rule of the Elden Ring doth not apply to him. When Marika removed the Rune of Death, denying natural death from these lands, it did not change him. So while we, born with Grace, were granted eternity, he would age.” She scoffed. “My mother always despised the racism of the Golden Order. The mistreatment of the Albinaurics, Omen, Misbegotten, trolls... Tarnished... twas appalling to her. Another reason that Marika sought out war with Liurnia. Because that wretched harlot could not tolerate anyone differing from her Golden Order.”

He merely hummed and she frowned. Usually he would ask many more questions, not satisfied with what she was revealing. Now, though, he only stared at the body of the Black Knife he had pummeled to death. “Art thou well, Constantine?”

To her surprise he shook his head. “No. I am not.” The look out of his brown eyes was pained. “I was almost too slow. She almost... I just left you behind, without even thinking about what might happen. Had she killed you... Ranni I don't know what I would've done.”

She sighed deeply and laid her hands together at their fingertips. “Constantine. I appreciate thy concern for my well-being. But I already told thee, I require no savior.” A small smile sneaked into the corners of her mouth. “Thou hast saved a dear friend of mine and I will be grateful for that evermore. And... though this frame might seem fragile, I know how to fight.”

At that he huffed. “I can see that.” He looked at the Black Knife Assassin that was shattered into hundreds of small pieces. Frozen things broke rather easily, Ranni had learned early on when studying the cold magics. Inanimate objects and people alike. A fact she liked to use to her advantage in fights.

“I might be the princess that resided in a tower, guarded by a dragon... But I am no maiden in distress.”

He chuckled. “Oh no, you are rather the one putting others in distress.” Constantine rubbed his sore knuckles and sighed. “I still have to ask you to forgive me for acting so brutish. There was no need for this violence. A clean strike with my sword would've been enough.”

“Tis true”, she admitted, looking straight at him. “But in the end thou hast saved me, so do not rue thine actions.” Her features softened and she added: “I will not have thee apologize for this.”

He laughed without mirth. “Look at us. The mad princess, commanding her demented Tarnished.” Ranni snorted and shook her head. “Foolish man. Fixated on the bad things and disregarding all the good deeds he hath done. Oh what is a woman to do, to make him see the whole truth?”

With a badly hidden smirk he said: “Hmm... A kiss might help me see things clearer.” She raised an eyebrow. “Very subtle, Constantine.” All he did was smirk and she sighed at his audacity. Stepping in front of him, she made it look like she was in the process of kissing him. His features softened and he leaned forward to meet her lips. Only for her to raise an index finger and nudge against his forehead, to push his head back. “Let us go to Iji.”

In an exaggerated motion he threw back his head, before pouting at her. “Oh you're so cruel, my Lady.” Ranni only rolled her eye and started walking. As much as she enjoyed the banter with her consort, there were other matters she first had to take care of before she could fully indulge him.

Constantine quickly joined her. It almost seemed like their way towards the forge in front of the manor would be quiet, but then he said with a mischievous spark in his eyes: “Before I forget: please, my love, should I ever enrage you... tell me. Because ending up as a pile of frozen chunks really doesn't seem that pleasant.”

Ranni laughed and shook her head. Oh that weird, adorable man...

Chapter Text

Iji watched Constantine and Ranni approach and as soon as they were in earshot, he said: “I am glad to see the both of you unharmed.”

“Same goes to thee, my friend”, the demigod responded, clear relieve on her face. “I already fret we were too late. But despite the years that passed, thy prowess in fight still standeth.”

“I survived two wars, it takes more than a few misguided assassins to fell me.” A somewhat nervous undertone sneaked into his voice. “A shame Blaidd isn't here to witness the fight.”

Constantine bit back the sharp words that he wanted to spit at the smith, feeling this wasn't the right moment for him to speak up. He kept quiet and stood close by Ranni, who said: “Blaidd... the worst we feared came to be. His mind hath been lost to the influence of the Greater Will... We...” When she faltered he was quick to put a reaffirming hand on her back. She quickly glanced over to him, silent appreciation in her eye. “It had been I that struck him down.”

“Unthinkable, how could Blaidd... How did he break free from his cell?” Iji sounded genuinely upset. Ranni tilted her head. “What is it thou art talking about?”

The smith lowered his gaze to his withered hands. “I... I feared he would lose his mind after you disposed of your Two Fingers, Lady Ranni. It was the only logical outcome. And I just couldn't bear the thought... so I locked him away in a gaol, in the hopes he will remain safe there...”

She remained silent, her expression unreadable. Barely turning her head towards him, she asked Constantine: “Didst thou know about this?”

Bracing himself to possibly get the brunt of her anger, he answered: “Yes. In fact it was me who freed him from his confinement.” Towards Iji, he said: “You knew that he would never have wanted to live on like this.”

He sighed. “It was a selfish and misguided act on my part.”

“It was... but I understand why thou wouldst resort to it. And I think so did Blaidd.” Ranni exhaled heavily, before she straightened her shoulders once more. It was remarkable, how she was able to hide her true feelings behind a wall of aloof coolness. Having seen behind that wall, Constantine liked her much more when she was just herself. When she allowed herself to be a person, and not feign the untouchable demigod.

She laid the fingertips of her upper hands together. “Thy service is demanded once more. Not as a war counselor, but as a blacksmith. My c-consort is in need of a new set of armor.” The small stumble in her speech had Iji chuckle, before he said: “I am happy to see you have finally found a match, Lady Ranni. It was a wish of me, to one day see the Dark Moon Greatsword in use.” His head turned towards the Tarnished. “And ah what a spectacle it was. Your prowess in battle is remarkable, Constantine.”

He slightly bowed his head at receiving the compliment. “Thank you.”

“As for the armor... You might not even have to wait for me to create it.” With an exhausted groan the troll got up, to access a big – at least for human sized individuals – chest. There was a random assortment of materials inside of it, smithing stones in differing qualities, pieces of glintstone and chunks of metal.

While rummaging through the chest, he said: “I had the Nox approach me. It was such a long time ago, I can hardly remember it.” Iji rummaged through the contents of the chest. “They asked me to create an armor for them. An armor for a legend. The Lord of Night.” Piece by piece, he laid a set of armor in front of Constantine. “It was before I joined into the service of house Caria, before I swore allegiance to Queen Rennala.”

Ranni watched her war counselor interested. “Thou'st never told me about that.”

“It seemed unimportant to mention. Especially since they never came to collect the work. It was just a drop in a lake of memories.” The smith held the chestplate in his hands and rubbed some dust off of it with his thumb. “A shame it never found use, really. I did good work.”

She stepped forward, inspecting the set of armor with a strange glint in her eye. “I've heard tale of the prophecy of the Lord of Night, but to think... Ha, of course.”

Constantine, apparently the only one not having any clue of what they were talking about, cleared his throat. He felt a little excluded. With crossed arms he asked: “Lord of Night?”

The smile on Ranni's lips surprised him, when she turned and excitedly said: “A prophecy, long foretold. He, who would slay the Golden One and free the night sky. The Nox believed him the savior of their cities, but when Marika and her Golden Order burned them down, many disregarded the prophecy as false. But now I know!” She took his hand. “Tis thee. Thou art the Lord of Night. Not to save just the eternal cities, but to free all of the Lands Between of the yoke laid upon them by the Greater Will.”

He frowned. “I still don't quite understand... How do you know that this is about me?”

Ranni squeezed his hand. “Accompanied by the Dark Moon, the Lord of Night wilt fell the Greater Will, plunge a blade into its chest so it might ne'er rise again. Our meeting was foretold by the stars, my dear. We were destined to find one another, long before we took our first breath. Thou wilt kill a God, Constantine.”

All the talk of prophecies, and the expectations that were laid on him, made his head reel. With a forlorn expression he withdrew his hand out of Ranni's and took a few steps back. He was already set on a fight against the Gods, he shouldn't react like this was a new revelation to him. However, hearing that everything he had done was more or less already set by the cosmos... it made him question his sense of autonomy. Was he really his own person, or was he merely a puppet for some entities even more abstruse than the outer gods?

His doubtful thoughts were disrupted by a cool hand on his shoulder. “Do not fret the words of the stars. They are not like the cruel Gods”, she said softly, as if she knew exactly what was going on inside of his head. “They do not steer our destiny to see their own desires fulfilled. Tis frightening, I know. But they are merely messengers of fate, allowing those capable enough to gain a glimpse into the future.”

“But was anything I did my own decision, or did I do it because the stars already decided I would do so?” He tried to find an answer in her features, but she merely shook her head. “No words could explain the truth. Stay with me, my Lord. See this path to the end with me, and thou shalt understand. For, once thou'st laid eyes upon the true face of the Dark Moon, all will make sense. Please, trust me.”

Constantine was still doubtful, scared that all his fight would accumulate to was another age of cruel Gods. But a look into the the face of the woman in front of him managed to divert his doubts a little. Of course he trusted her, and he trusted that she wouldn't lead him astray. So in an effort to take some of the tension out of the situation, he smiled. Though it was a little wry. “Lord of Night... quite the impressive sounding title.”

There was a flash of relieve in Ranni's features. “I thank thee for thy trust, Constantine.” She looked up at him. “Thou shalt not regret it.” In a slightly bashful tone, she added: “Now... Let us put this armor onto thee. I want to see my dashing Lord in his new armaments.”

Constantine stepped up to the set of armor laying on the ground and started to put it on. It fit him perfectly, as if Iji had taken his measurements when creating it. Jet black steel, with shining silver ornaments along the outlines of each piece. It reminded him of the moon on a lunar eclipse. Slivers of light, around a seemingly endless darkness.

He first put on the dark gray chainmail, the inside of the heavy gear padded with leather to avoid unpleasant friction. Both the bracers and greaves were heavy plate, though they consisted of many small and intricate pieces that offered both protection and still left him mobile and didn't hinder his movements. Fastening the belts and buckles of his new gear, he felt a sense of importance in it. He accepted the fate the moon had chosen for him. Heavy and dark.

“Allow me”, Ranni murmured and picked up the chestpiece of the armor, before helping him to put it on. Her motions were careful and almost reverent, as she fastened the buckles that held the gear in place. The collar of this piece was lined with fur, to keep out any potential cold. Last was his new cloak, midnight blue and easily fastened to his armor with hooks. Silver embroidery made it look like there was frost climbing on it from the seams. Though heavier than his previous armor, he felt just how much better it was compared to the mishmash he wore before.

Constantine watched Ranni's hand slowly glide over the silver ornament engraved in the center of the chestplate, something akin to disbelieve in her features. “It all... it all hath been foreseen.” The ornament that left her so astonished was a depiction of the Dark Moon. Leaden and dire.

Their gazes met and with a tender expression she put a hand on his cheek. “Thou art looking most handsome, my Lord.”

“Oh stop, you're making me blush”, he murmured, already beet-red. Ranni obviously tried to bite back a smirk, her efforts rather unsuccessful. “Ah Constantine, you sweet soul.” She adjusted his cloak, despite it already sitting perfectly. When he caught her quick glance to his lips, it was him who had to hide his smile. Truly, they were both horribly awkward.

He leaned forward and kissed her softly. She was quick to reciprocate the kiss, leaning into him and softly caressing the nape of his neck with one hand.

When Iji cleared his throat in an exaggerated volume, they hastily broke their kiss off. Both looking as embarrassed as can be, while the smith laughed. “A perfect match indeed.”

While her consort turned an even darker shade of red, Ranni merely lowered her gaze enough, so the brim of her hat would cover her face... but she was still missing it and apparently she herself realized when her usual measure to hide her embarrassment didn't work. The demigod frowned and looked up towards the manor. “My hat...”

“Let me get it for you”, Constantine offered, all too eager to escape this situation. He was in the process of walking, when Iji said: “Constantine. A word?” There was a strange tone underlying his request.

Ranni merely raised an eyebrow. “Thy person is demanded, my Lord. Despite the task seemingly insurmountable, I believe myself wilt be able to pick up my hat.” She winked at him when he rolled his eyes at her sarcastic comment. “There is also something else I have to look into... so if thou wouldst kindly excuse me.”

Constantine approached Iji with a slightly wavering smile. “You wanted to talk?”

The troll had his gaze fixated on Ranni, who was walking towards her hat. “Ever since Lord Radagon left for the Erdtree, I took it upon myself to watch out for Ranni. It was not a duty given to me, but I took it up nonetheless. Lady Ranni... I have seen her grow up. She never forgave her father and it caused her great measures of turmoil. It is why she does not trust easily. The fact she trusts in you so deeply is proof to the feelings she has for you.”

He lowered his head to face the Tarnished. “Hence, I give you a word of warning, Constantine. Should you dare hurt her, then I will make it my personal goal to eradicate you. No matter what it might take, I will find you and rip you to shreds.” Iji put a hand to the hilt of his hammer standing besides him. “Even if you should adorn the title of Elden Lord, then I will storm Leyndell. Know that if you cause Lady Ranni any form of pain, I will have your head.”

Constantine didn't dare to speak for a moment, before he hesitantly answered: “I would never willingly hurt her. She holds my heart.”

The troll huffed, apparently still not fully convinced. Trying to not stir up any conflict, the Tarnished sighed. “Iji, you can have your doubts. And all I can say is, that I love her with all of my heart and will protect her until my last. If you believe me or not... I can't change your mind on that anyways.” A little smile was in the corners of his mouth. “Also, don't let her hear you want to protect her. She'll get mad.”

Now the old smith laughed. “She still can't accept help, hm?” He shook his head with a somewhat nostalgic sigh. “Some things never change.”

They both saw Ranni return from the Manor, her hat sitting back on her head. Iji said: “Where will you two be heading next? Towards the capital?”

He welcomed the change of subject, having enough of being scrutinized by the smith. “We are still indecisive. The plan has changed a little... You've heard of the outer Gods? I mean besides the Greater Will.”

“Of course.” Iji leaned forward, a hand on his anvil, to have a better view of Constantine. “What dangers are you planning on throwing yourselves at?”

“It is necessary. Before we leave, to set that new age in motion Ranni envisions, we'll have to eradicate any traces of the other gods as well. The Greater Will is just the force at power right now, but I just know... those other gods are already licking their lips to sink their teeth into the Lands Between, as soon as the position gets free.”

“And Lady Ranni agrees with your plan?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

“Yes, she sees the necessity of a campaign against the outer gods as well.” As raindrops started to hit him, he put the hood of his new cloak over his head. “To achieve true freedom from divine intervention, we need to eradicate any traces of them.”

Iji hummed in thought, his fingers drumming on the surface of the anvil. “I proposed the same reasoning to her many years ago, but she denied me. Called it too risky and that we should focus on the task at hand first, before throwing ourselves at foes that lie in far distance.” He chuckled in his rumbling way. “Apparently it requires a pretty face to sway her.”

Constantine shook his head. “Oh, she really wasn't thrilled about it. But I've proven to be rather stubborn when it comes to her.”

For a moment the smith stopped drumming his fingers on the anvil, before he resumed with another hum. “She usually isn't the selfless kind, at least in such matters. You bring out the best in her.”

Those words slightly irked the Tarnished. In what world was it not selfless, to be ready to sacrifice everything you have just so others could have a new start? Though, Iji knew Ranni for far longer, so maybe there were still things he did know about his wife. “I think we complete each other perfectly. Because with her at my side, I am a better man.”

“O-ho”, Iji laughed and shook his head. “What a statement. Maybe I was truly wrong to doubt your intentions.” He quickly composed himself, when Ranni finally joined them. Her gaze was wary, fully aware that they had been talking about her. “I presume thou art done talking?” There was a blade fastened to her hip, the sheath beautifully ornate, in the typical frills and swirls of the Carian royal house. Though it looked a little strange on her person, it also gave her an air of fierceness, especially when she casually put a hand to the hilt of it. He would have to ask her about the weapon later.

“We were talking about our next steps”, Constantine said, conveniently leaving out the death threats he had received. The demigod merely raised an eyebrow, but refrained from voicing her doubts. Iji, to take some of the tension out of the situation, cleared his throat noisily. “Surprisingly, if you want to eradicate any followers of outer gods, it would be wise to seek the other demigods. Most of them, greedy to grasp at more power, turned towards communing with the gods from afar.”

“Not enough that they would tear these lands asunder...” Ranni scoffed in disgust. “Had I known their lack of character... ah, but I should have known. It was to be expected from the Golden Lineage. Though my disappointment for Rykard and Radahn mingling in the Shattering Wars still weighteth heavy.”

Iji tilted his head slightly. “O Lady Ranni, don't condemn your brothers. They did what was necessary, to not be trampled in the scuffle over the crown.”

“Oh really?” She didn't raise her head to face him. “While I expected no less from the brutish warmonger Radahn, I am appalled by the tale Blaidd brought to me from Gelmir. Dost thou deem torture and depravity as necessary, honored war councilor?” Her tone was bitter and Constantine caught a glimpse of her furrowed brow. Oh, she was really mad. Was he imagining things, or was it getting colder? Maybe it was just the rain...

“S-so, should we head towards Gelmir first, then?” Nervously he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Ranni sighed and shook her head. “We are already in Liurnia... We should head towards the academy.”

Now it was his turn to frown. “Are you sure...”

“No sense in postponing the inevitable”, she sighed, all her anger fallen flat. Iji, of course immediately knowing what their plan was, lowered his head to look at his hands. “I will remain here, for the time being. Should you require my services once more, be it as blacksmith or war counselor, then I will be glad to be of help.”

Her features softened. “We will not forget thee, my friend. And should there be need of thy prowess, then we will be sure to visit thee. In the meantime... I prithee thee to be careful.”

“I made it to this point, Lady Ranni. Our long journey together nears its end... I will make sure to see it.” A little forlorn chuckle from Ranni. “Oh what a long journey it hath been, indeed.”

Chapter Text

It was on a night with a new moon, that Rennala went into labor. An ill omen in of itself. Bereft of any light from the moon, what good can there be for the queen of the full moon?

She was hoping nonetheless. Hoping, that this time would be different. That it wouldn't end in disappointment and tears. To hold a squealing little baby in her arms, and not yet again have to stare at a small corpse.

After Radahn's birth, she and her Lord had tried for another child many times. But none would end in a new life. They would all die. Coming to this world long before their time. Deformed. Unable to breathe. Not yet ready to face life.

This one was also early, though there were good chances it could make it. At least that was what the midwife had told Rennala. And despite the danger of getting her heart broken once more, she believed.

Radagon didn't leave her side. He never did. Always there, to hold her hand, wipe the sweat off her brow and whisper reaffirming words into her ear. To hold her, when she was weeping over the loss of yet another child. He'd cried with her, openly and just as torn up as she was. And just like her, he also dared to hope, that this time would be different.

A final push. A final cry. Then silence. Deafening silence.

Rennala felt her heart drop and all hope she had held evaporate into the dark of the night. The midwife gave her a sad look, shaking her head as she held the motionless little body. The queen drew a shaking breath. “What...”

“A girl”, the midwife answered. Rennala whimpered and covered her eyes with her arm. Another child, born without a pulse. She waited to feel Radagon's warm hands caress her, to hear him say that everything would be fine. But this time... this time he just stood up from his place besides her and walked towards the midwife, that was still holding the dead baby.

Without speaking a word, he took it out of her hands. His expression full of pain, he pressed the forehead of the little creature against his lips. He whispered something, but Rennala didn't hear it. It didn't matter anyways, it was probably just a goodbye to a daughter he would never have. Or prayers to his god.

Rennala was tired. So incredibly tired. She just wanted to curl up and sleep for all eternity, just to escape this pain. To never again have to see that pained expression on Radagon's face, as he held yet another dead child of theirs. But as he kept whispering to the child, something happened.

At first, she didn't dare to trust her eyes. Was it a cruel joke of her mind, or was there movement in the body? An ever so slight raising of the chest, as if she drew breath? Her daughter opened her eyes and Rennala gasped. They were a beautiful ice blue... much like her own. But in the blink of an eye, they turned gold, like a veil had been lifted.

And then she started crying.

Oh how she cried, utterly outraged about being so ruthlessly ripped from her peaceful eternal slumber. Rennala stared at her husband, who held the tiny girl in his arms with a tender expression. What... what had he done? When he met her eyes, there was guilt in his. “I... Could not let go. Not this time.” Carefully he stepped up to her, handing their daughter to her.

She was perfect. A little small, but now that there was color in her face, she looked absolutely beautiful. Rennala sobbed, as she pressed her daughter against her chest. Finally. Finally... She didn't care what it was that Radagon had done to make this possible. All that mattered was, that she was able to hold this bundle to her chest. To hear her cry and feel her squirm in her arms.

With tears still streaming down her face, she pressed a soft kiss to the tuft of red hair. Radagon sat down besides her, letting a hand glide through her long black hair. “Do you have a name for her, my light?”

Rennala leaned her head against his chest. “Ranni.” Carefully – oh so carefully – she caressed over her small head. “Little Lunar Princess Ranni.”

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“There, there”, Ranni cooed softly and patted the back of her consort, as he leaned forward and puked. To think, that the man capable of bringing demigods to their knees, was prone to motion-sickness... Though, remembering the first time she flew on Adula's back, she could definitely sympathize with his plight. It had taken all of her to not vomit violently when she climbed from the back of the dragon. Now, residing in a doll body, she was thankfully relieved of the nausea.

When departing from Iji's forge, they had decided on flying with Adula, to safe time. After all, having a dragon in her service had to have some advantages. At first Constantine had been absolutely thrilled by the proposal of her, childlike excitement clearly visible. That excitement had quickly faded, once they were in the air. To say he had looked harrowed was an understatement.

“I-I think I'm good”, he groaned and straightened back up. Immediately all color drained from his face again and he leaned forward once more. Ranni sighed and continued rubbing his back, as he brought the pitiful contents of his stomach to the surface. Adula, watching all of this, huffed mockingly at the human's display. “Be nice”, she scolded her vassal, to which the dragon only grumbled slightly.

After a few more moments of retching and shaking, Constantine seemed to finally get a little better. He took a few gulps from his water-skin and washed out his mouth, before getting some herbs out of his pouch and stuffing them into his mouth. At her questioning look, he answered: “For the bad breath.” Chewing on the leaves, he added: “They also taste great with game.”

Ranni snorted amused. His peculiarities were a great source of amusement for her, though she also appreciated his almost paranoid worry for his hygiene. She could not imagine having a reeking brute as a companion.

Ordering Adula to stay behind, as the dragon would not be able to cross the protective spell surrounding the academy, they continued their way. Thanks to the Glintstone Key her consort held, it was easy for them to pass the barrier.

She was shocked, when they first set foot inside of the Academy. Nothing was like she remembered. Everything was either dusty, destroyed or so disheveled, that it was beyond recognition. The halls and corridors, she spent so many years of her youth in, all neglected. There was nothing left of the academic glamour, filling the institution before the Shattering.

The brilliant minds, united in the research of the stars and moon... all reduced to savages. Attacking on sight, flinging their rudimentary sorceries at them. At first she felt inclined to flinch whenever her consort struck down one of the scholars, but soon enough she felt numb to it. Just another byproduct of the Shattering. Another tragedy, caused by her actions...

They stood in the big court right after the debate parlor, a soft drizzle hitting their faces, barely enough to be noticable. Constantine moved confident, navigating the halls with a certain familiarity. He had been here before, he had told her. As she watched him cross the yard, she tried imagining him in the typical robes of the scholars. It almost made her chuckle. He wasn't daft, not in the slightest. But he belonged to the frontlines, not dusty libraries.

Absentmindedly she picked up the glintstone staff from one of the defeated scholars, watching the faint light reflect in the greenish stone. “Didst thou ever try to cast?” Her question made him turn around, an eyebrow raised in surprise. “Hmm?” Ranni waved with the staff. “I wonder if thou'rt able to call upon the power of glintstone.”

Constantine walked to her, the smallest of smiles on his lips. He took the staff out of her hand and then, with a slightly concentrated expression, waved it once in a manner he no doubt copied from the mages they encountered. Nothing happened and he shrugged his shoulders. “That's disappointing.”

Ranni chuckled at his clumsy effort and stepped closer to him. Her voice soft, she adjusted his grip on the catalyst slightly. “Flinging about thy stave will not bring results. Focus, my dear. Listen to the glintstone and unlock the potential harbored in it. Tis thy key to access the power of the cosmos.” Her hands pushed his right up, so he stood there with an outstretched arm. Curiosity was glinting in his eyes, as he watched her intently.

When she stepped behind him and put her lips close to his ear, she felt how he shivered slightly. “Focus, Constantine.” She let one hand slide down his outstretched arm, softly closing it around his wrist. “One fluid motion, with intent and purpose.”

“You tell me to focus... but with you so close I find it rather hard to focus on anything else”, he mumbled and she smirked slightly, before taking a few steps back and giving him some space. It was tempting, to tease him. But she truly wanted to see if he had any potential for sorceries.

He took a deep breath, loosening his tight grip on the staff a bit, before waving it once. A glintstone shard shot forth, hitting the wall in front of him. His eyes wide and full of excitement, he twirled around to Ranni. “Did you see that?”

She clapped once with two of her hands. “Splendid!” His enthusiasm was infectious and she felt genuinely happy for him. “There might slumber a mage in this gruff shell.”

“And a great teacher beneath that indifferent facade”, he retorted, handing the catalyst back to her. She huffed amused and made a dismissive gesture with one of her hands. “Oh please, I'd have scholars running. I've never been one for patience. Thou art the exception. The sole one.”

He gazed adoringly at her and she felt her cool demeanor melt once more. How easily he managed to make her soft with a look out of his brown eyes... This was becoming a rather regular occurrence. “Wouldst thou not like to hold on to the stave? Tis nothing extraordinary, but perfect to hone thy skills for the time being.”

“Do you want to make a battle mage out of me?” He took the catalyst back, spinning it once before fastening it to his belt. Ranni raised an eyebrow, as they started walking again. “Dear, thou'st loosened one spell. There yet lieth a long way ahead of thee, before thou canst claim the title of mage. A stave on thy hip doth not make thee a sorcerer.”

“Said the woman with the fancy sword that has seen no use so far.” There it was again, that curious glint in his eyes. A clear sign that he was dying to get more information. Ranni loved his inquisitive spirit, always eager to understand things around him. His mind was sharp, grasping knowledge easily and utilizing it quickly.

“Tis a family heirloom... I just could not leave it behind.” She remembered the many portraits, depicting her mother in her stunning glintstone-knight armor, holding on to the Sword of Night and Flame. A symbol of the once flourishing relation between the giants and astrologers. A reminder of her heritage. Ranni's favorite painting was of the fiercest battle in the second Liurnian war, depicting the showdown between Queen Rennala of the Full Moon and Radagon, Champion of the Golden Order. It was mostly her favorite, because it framed the moment her mother had skewered the shoulder of her father with that very sword fastened to her hip. The scar had never faded.

“It is beautiful. So it fits you perfectly”, he flattered her and she sighed. “Be not lulled by the pretty looks of things. There might lie an ugly truth beneath the surface.” He immediately caught on to her ambiguous words and clicked his tongue, clearly displeased with her self-deprecation. At his disapproving look she laughed. “Such severity in such sweet eyes. Come, let us make haste. There remaineth so much to do.”

Constantine caught her by surprise, when he bluntly asked: “Do you regret what you did?” The smile faded from her features and she felt a frown built. “Why wouldst thou ask such a thing?”

“You sometimes sound like you regret your past. I... I just want to understand you better, Ranni. Please don't be mad at me for it.” His smile was apologetic and she pursed her lips in disapproval. She didn't want him to have to grovel, not when he had earned her trust. “... Another time?” Ranni looked at him with an abashed expression.

“You promise?” Beautiful brown eyes sparked with excitement and adoration. She smiled softly and leaned forward to kiss him on his cheek. “I promise.” Feeling his beard tickle against her lips, she raised a hand and let her fingertips comb through it. “My tousled Lord.”

He groaned. “Ah, don't remind me. I really need to shave.” She tilted her head and continued playing with his beard. “Hmm, I find it suits thee rather well.” Of course he would blush and Ranni snorted, nudging against the tip of his nose with her index finger. “Though that lovely shade of red suits thee even better.”

“Witch”, he grumbled and started walking again, followed by his gleeful wife. Their way continued over a narrow wooden bridge, that connected the main building of the academy with the library tower. A singular person was already awaiting them at the end of the bridge and Ranni felt a pang of nostalgia, when she saw the traditional armor of the Carian knights.

“At this point I really have to question thine intentions, Constantine... Oh, thou'st brought another one with you...” Moongrum slowly approached them, his steps careful and a hand on the hilt of his sword. She decided that now was a good moment to announce who she was. “It hath been a fairing long time, Sir Moongrum. It pleaseth me, to know thee guarding the queen even after so many years. Thy loyalty to my family earneth my deepest gratitude and admiration.”

Immediately he fell to one knee, bowing his head deeply. “Lunar Princess Ranni! Oh what a joyous day, to see thee return to these halls!” Quickly he removed his helmet, to look up to her with tearful blue eyes. “To see Caria standing yet... I dared not to trust in the words of the Tarnished. How foolish I was.”

With a casual wave of one of her hands she motioned him to get up. “To thy feet, knight. There is no need to bow before me, I am undeserving of thy reverence.” While he got to his feet, she laid the upper set of her fingers together at their tips. “I seek audience with my mother. Hopefully thou wilt let me pass?”

“O-of course, Lunar Princess! Dost thou-”

“Nay. I ask of thee to stay behind.” When Constantine wanted to join her, she stopped him with a hand against his chest. “Thee too, my Lord. Allow me this talk alone with my mother. I... please.”

He looked worried, a deep crease on his brow. But then he just took the hand that was still resting on his chest and put a kiss on her knuckles. “Should you need me, just call out.” She huffed, before walking past him towards the elevator. “Try to rest a while, Constantine.”

When she took the elevator, leaving the two men behind, there was a moment of awkward silence. Moongrum turned to Constantine. “Tea, Lord?”

--------------------------------------

Her days were an incoherent mess. Night and day... Day and night. It made no difference to Rennala. The movement of stars and moon, lost to her, like every other part of the life she once had. It only brought pain, to think about them. Such immense pain.

A few memories stung more than others. Herself, alone in the bedchamber she had shared for many years with her Lord. The feeling of overwhelming loneliness, as her hand had reached for the empty side of the bed. How she had curled up and just cried, wondering if she could've done more to make him stay.

The memory of herself atop the sacred tower, howling in pain as she pressed the motionless body of her daughter to her chest. Little Ranni, gone forever. She remembered how one of her knights tried to pry her from the charred corpse, getting her to move on. But Rennala would never be able to let go again. That night broke the last remnants of strength in her.

She clung to the amber egg in her arms, cradled it like a newborn and mumbled nonsensical words. Just to banish those hurtful memories and thoughts, that were always on the prowl. Always ready to pounce on her and reduce her to tears. And so the years passed her, without her even really noticing.

There were people, disrupting her solitude. Faceless men and women, begging to be born anew by her Rune. She granted their wish... hoping to maybe one day be able to regain the child she lost. But not only those scholars came to her.

Vague memories of Rykard flitted across her mind. Oh her sweet boy, kneeling before her and whispering soothing words to her. Imploring her to stand up and fight alongside him in a fight of demigods. How much she wished for the strength to join him. But she was broken, unable to even choke out any words of explanation. The sadness in those golden eyes, that were so much like his father's, hurt more than hundred knifes to the chest. “Farewell, mother.” Those had been Rykard's last words to her.

Something inside of her, a desperate little spark that still held on to hope, had waited for Radahn to come. At least once. Her dear Radahn, that had always lacked the cynicism his siblings quickly adapted and was just a joy to be around. But he never came. Rennala wondered if he merely was busy in Caelid or if... no, don't think about it.

There was a girl with blue skin, pleading to her in the voice of her beloved Ranni. Telling her about some convoluted plan, calling her mother over and over again. A cruel trick her mind played on her.

It hurt so much, to remember her precious girl. To remember the joy she had felt when she first held her tiny daughter in her arms. Her little miracle. The child that shouldn't have been, and yet by bargain with the Greater Will had been granted life. She had been so happy, to have an heir to which she could impart the mysteries of the moon.

Until that dream got ripped from her grasp and the price for the divine miracle had been unveiled, when Marika announced that Ranni was chosen as an Empyrean. Destined for the Greater Will, not the moon. A bitter price, left for her daughter to pay. In that moment, Rannala had understood why Radagon looked so torn up when first holding his child. He had condemned Ranni to this fate, by offering her soul to the greedy god.

“Farewell, mother.” Those had been the last words of the girl with the blue skin, before she left.

She remembered that one knight of hers, that would come to her regularly and take care of her. Bring her food and water, talk to her with a soft voice. He would often sit down across from her, after putting a cup of tea down in front of her. It was her favorite, the scent of the beverage bringing memories of her study to the surface. Her knight would often ramble about battles they had fought in side by side. She remembered. Loyal Moongrum, unwilling to give her up, when she long had given herself up.

Another man had come to see her. Faceless at first, his identity of no importance to her. Until he revealed he knew Ranni. She remembered the cold skin of her child, burned so badly it had been impossible to make out her features. Gone were those adorable freckles, those dimples when she was laughing... only death remained. Rennala knew for certain Ranni was gone... but this man yet managed to sow doubts when he assured her that her daughter yet lived.

He would come again, to torment her with false hopes. She didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to hope. To have that tender shoot sprout in her chest, just to have it trampled by the cold reality of it all. No, she would not allow that. He would leave eventually and she was relieved of it.

Rennala didn't know if it were years, or merely a few days that had passed when she was visited once again. Why couldn't they just leave her be? She wanted to be alone. Hold her beloved egg and forget.

“Mother...” Ah, it was her again. That girl, talking in the voice of a ghost from her past. Rennala whimpered and pressed her amber egg closer to her chest. “No, no, no...” Maybe if she ignored her, she would disappear?

Steps drew closer, before they stopped right in front of her. Cold hands cupped her face. “Please, just look at me...” She didn't want to. She didn't want to raise her gaze, just to see that it was not little Ranni, but some other person standing there. So in an act of self-preservation she swatted the hands of the doll away, whimpering: “Leave me. Just... go away.”

A deep and sorrowful sigh came from the visitor, before she took a few steps back. Rennala almost dared to hope she would just go and carefully raised her head. The doll sat down across from her, a piercing blue eye fixated on her. “I will not go. Not this time. Things I have done in my past... I regret. Most of all I regret to not see thy torment. To choose looking away, rather than standing by thy side. No more.” She folded her hands in her lap, a weak smile on her lips. “May it take years, I will not abandon thee again, mother.”

Each and every word felt like a dagger to her heart. She felt her heartbeat fasten, as the situation caused stress to flood her. If only she could just get up and flee... lethargy had a firm grip on her. “Go away!”, she whispered again.

The doll didn't leave, but she remained silent at least, just watching her with that soulless blue eye. It reminded her of the scrutinizing gaze of the Full Moon. Oh her beloved moon, how she missed its cold embrace. Would it still answer to her call, after all those years of silence? Quickly she shook her head, banishing those thoughts that gave her hope for a tomorrow.

Just as she calmed herself at least a little, the girl started talking again. “There are so many things I want to tell thee... Some sad, some happy.” She lowered her gaze. “I finally managed to slay my Two Fingers. Finally, I am free of them.” A pause. “Though... it demanded a cruel sacrifice. Blaidd...” The pain in the voice of the doll had Rennala instinctively raise her head. She had never been able to ignore the pain of any of her children.

Many had told her to just let the servants take care of the banalities, like scraped knees or hurtful arguments. But she would always be there if needed, a calming hand on their shoulder and soothing words always available for her children. Be it when Rykard had his nose broken while roughhousing with Radahn... or Radahn crying because he felt horrible for breaking his brother's nose. Ranni sobbing over her favorite toy being broken. They had given her life purpose far beyond her duties as queen and head of an army.

Rennala cleared her throat and carefully, not yet completely daring to commit to this, asked: “Was... was his death painful?” Poor Blaidd. The pup that never had a say in his fate, but nonetheless was such a sweet little creature. He never deserved the hardship he had to face.

The doll, obviously excited to actually receive an answer from her, quickly said: “Nay. Twas swift and... I at least hope he did not suffer.” She stared down at her hands. “I already miss him so dearly...” The queen felt her doubts about the identity of this girl dissipate more and more, as she watched her. Her expressions, her way of talking... it was all too similar to Ranni.

“B-but I also found a new companion.” Now she looked bashfully to the ground, a soft smile on her features. “A dogged Tarnished that just refused to leave my side. Heh... I remember how thou'st once told me to not be so harsh with my judgment of father. And how I told thee thou'rt naught but a love blinded fool, to still take his side after what he hath done to thee.” She actually chuckled. “Now... now I see what it is like, to love someone unconditionally.”

It made Rennala's heart bounce, to hear her daughter say such words. To see that she not had grown bitter and denied herself to experience that wonderful feeling of love. Quickly she reprimanded herself, for calling that doll her daughter. Ranni was dead...

“I always aspired to be like thee. Strong, even in the face of insurmountable odds... For the most part, I like to think I actually succeeded in that. But oh so often I feel inadequate for what I have taken on... and in those times I'd often ask myself how thou wouldst handle all of it.” She raised her gaze. “There was no day I did not think of thee, mother. No day I did not miss thy advice and warmth.”

Rennala carefully laid the amber egg to the ground and slowly got to her feet. Her knees felt weak and shaky, after so many years of no real use. With wonky steps she approached the small doll, basically towering over her, before she slowly got to her knees. Her voice weak, she meekly asked: “Why... why didst thou never come to me again?” Oh this was stupid... allowing herself to feel hope. To buy into the words of the doll. Actually believing that this was her daughter.

Ranni sighed her sorrowful sigh once more. “Because I was scared. Scared to really confirm thou art... gone. I was a craven, unworthy of house Caria.” Her voice cracked. “I am sorry, mother...”

With a sob the queen closed her arms around that dainty doll, pressing her to her chest. Caution be damned. Immediately the hug was reciprocated. She was so cold... Ranni had always carried a certain chill with her, ever since accepting the Dark Moon in her life. But now, missing the natural heat of a living body, it felt unnaturally cold. There was no pulse... fate would not allow to be cheated after all, she thought bitterly. Everything fell into its intended place.

Leaning back a little, she inspected the features of her child, so utterly different from what she knew. Blue tinted porcelain, cracked on some places and nonetheless immaculate. There was a ghostly face outlined besides the physical version, and it looked much more familiar. Ranni avoided her gaze. “I am sorry for the woe I caused thee...”

Rennala carefully touched the cheek of the doll. “What didst thou do to thyself, my sweeting?” She had explained it on her first visit, those many years ago, but back then the grieve had been too fresh. None of the words had reached her. But now, truly lucid for the first time in a long while, she needed to know.

“My mind... never truly hath been mine. Forced into submission by the Greater Will, I had to free myself from those golden shackles. Abandon my flesh, so I might find the fate preordained by the stars, and not the mockery the Golden One hath chosen. I just... I would not be used by that thing.” A joyless laugh. “I suppose my pride got the better of me.”

Rennala listened, guilt ripping her heart apart. “Why didst thou never come to me?”

Ranni sighed and got to her feet. “To do what, exactly? Twas my burden and there was naught for thee to do. None of thy soothing words could've helped against this voice.” Distressed she paced a few steps, before pointing with a finger to her temple. “Always. Every waking moment, every dream I had... it was there. Gnawing on my mind. I had to escape it, else my sanity be lost.”

The queen was silent, letting the words sink in. She had seen the occasional flinch out of nowhere, a sudden twitch in the corner of a golden eye or a balled fist in an otherwise calm situation. It all made sense now. And yet again she felt guilt for not taking those signs serious. But it also beckoned the question... was there even something she could've done, to ease the suffering of her daughter?

“Due to the accursed blood of my father, death was hard for me to achieve. So in a rite dark and cruel, I shed mine Empyrean flesh. Stealing away a fragment of Destined Death, to imbue blades with it and strike down two demigods. Godwyn the Golden, and myself. We were only the first of many to come... One dying in soul, the other in body. I never could have envisioned the carnage this night would cause.” Ranni told all of this in a very matter-of-fact way, her voice not giving away any emotions.

“Thou didst all of this by thyself?” Rennala watched the spectral part of the face very intently, seeing the flash of slight panic on it. Oh she knew that expression. When one sibling covered for the misdeeds of the other. Some things never changed, even with adulthood and the passing of time. She sighed deeply. “Rykard.” Her oldest was the only viable answer. He and his sister were always prone to scheme and make mischief. Often against each other, but most of the time against their brother Radahn.

Now obviously caught, Ranni squirmed slightly. “There might be the smidgen of a possibility he hath helped me...”

Rennala pinched the bridge of her nose, an old habit that, despite so many years of neglect, came back to her as second nature. “The two of ye... thick as thieves. I almost feel inclined to feel a pinch of pride for yer resilience. Almost.” Now she also stood up, still on slightly shaky legs. Ranni seemed like she wanted to help her, but quickly realized that the difference in height rendered her pretty much useless in that regard. Her daughter was barely half her height in this form. There had always been a difference, but in her old body she had at least reached up to her chest.

With cautious steps she walked towards the exit of the library, out into the night. The cold of Liurnia greeted her and Rennala took a deep breath, before looking up. There it was. Her beloved moon, benevolently looking down to her and gently caressing her face with its silvery light. As she stretched a hand towards it, as if to put it on a lover's cheek, the light seemed to shine brighter. “Ah my beloved... it hath been too long.”

Ranni stood behind her, quietly watching her mother and not daring to interrupt this moment. She appreciated that, but after another moment of soaking in the loving gaze of her moon, she diverted her attention back to her daughter. “Now, my little one. There remain many stories left to tell. Of utmost interest is the one about that Tarnished thou'st mentioned. Unconditional love, hmm?”

The awkward expression on her daughter's face made her laugh, for the first time in all too many years.

Chapter Text

“This tastes amazing”, Constantine marveled, as he took another sip of the tea. They were sitting in Moongrum's personal chamber, a small room with only the most basic necessities. A bed, a small desk with two chairs and a small vanity with an almost blind mirror took up most of the room, while there were a small stove and pantry crammed in a corner. It was almost funny, how the simplicity contrasted with the ornate armor of the knight.

At first it had been unbearably awkward, just sitting at the table and sipping their tea in silence. When they finally started talking, most of their conversation consisted of tales about the battles they had fought. Moongrum especially seemed to love talking about his time as Glintstone Knight at the height of the Carian rule.

They also talked about Constantine's newly discovered magical capability, the knight giving the Tarnished a bit of advice and telling him about the different types of spells. The classical star guided glintstone spells, the more combat orientated Carian sorceries, the arcane spells deriving from Gelmir and of course the highest echelon of spells: moon sorceries.

Now they were back to sipping tea and talking about banalities. Though slightly worried that Ranni was already gone for a few hours, he trusted that she would be fine. If she needed him, she'd call out.

Moongrum, who was sitting across from him on the desk, chuckled. “Tis a shame most of the trading routes are lying dormant nowadays. Before the Shattering, we were able to receive the finest delicacies from outside the Lands Between. Oh I would give my swordarm for the fine teas from the Land of Reeds. The richness of the flavors was truly something never achieved with any herbs in these realms.”

The Tarnished put the delicate cup down. “I wish I could remember anything. Before the Shattering, I mean. Even nowadays there is still beauty to be found, but I still wonder how some of the places I visited looked before surrendered to decay.”

Looking at him slightly sympathetic, the knight crossed his legs and twirled his mustache. “There is a saying in house Caria: Ne'er grieve for what hath been, as the waning moon ne'er grieveth for its fading light. There wilt be light after the dark.” He shrugged. “Tis quite mawkish, but it doth have some truth to it.”

“You're right... its absolutely corny.” He chuckled when Moongrum grumbled slightly. “Thank you for your kind words, though. Appreciate it.”

“Well, tis my duty to support the Lord. Be it moral support in this case.” His blue eyes sparked with curiosity. “I still wonder, how someone of thy stature managed to woo the princess. There were many in the past, trying to win over her heart, but she rejected them all. And here sits a Tarnished, that hath her hand in the matter of a few meetings.”

Both slightly offended and smug, Constantine leaned back in his chair. “She told me I am quite charming. So maybe I'm just her type. Or maybe its because there aren't many options nowadays.” With a wry chuckle he took another sip from his tea. Of course he had asked himself almost every moment they were together, how he deserved her attention and affection. It was hard for him to imagine, that she actually developed feelings for him, just because of who he was. That was ridiculous. He was a nobody, and she was the stunning woman that would bring forth a new age for these lands.

“Thou'rt a good man, Lord Constantine. I think that is even rarer to find than anything else nowadays. Do not underestimate the effect a kind heart can have.” Upon being called lord, the Tarnished cringed. “Stop calling me Lord, that makes me sound more important than I am.”

“Oh, but thou art consort to the Lunar Princess, that carries quite some importance. Even with this world in a state of disrepair.”

“I am glad to see thee still as clear of mind as all those years ago, my loyal knight”, a woman's soft voice said, making both of the men almost fall out of their chairs. There in the doorway she stood, Queen Rennala of the Full Moon, eyes sharp and attentive like a hawk on the hunt. The Carian knight jumped up from his chair, his movements clumsy and hasty. He stared at his queen. “Y-your majesty. Is... might I be dreaming? Is it really thee?”

“Thou art questioning thy mind? Mayhaps my words were spoken too hastily, Sir Moongrum.” Rennala raised an eyebrow, a mocking smirk on her thin lips. “Solitude doth have a jarring effect on the mind.” A shadow flickered across her features. “I know about that.”

His lower lip quivering, he fell to his knees. “M-my queen. Thou art back.” Tears fell to the ground, pure happiness on the usually stern features of the man. “O gracious moon.”

Hastily Rennala stepped up to him and helped him to get back up. “Now now, brave knight. No need for thee to grovel.” He sobbed. “All those years... I knew thou wert still there, my queen. I knew that brilliance such as thine could not fade.”

She smiled softly and patted his cheek. “I will not forget thy loyalty, Sir Moongrum. For the sacrifices thou hast endured, I shall be grateful forevermore. But now, let us no longer dwell on what hath been, rather direct our sight towards what shall be.”

“I once swore eternal loyalty to thee. And I shall adhere to that oath until I return to the cosmos.” He cleared his throat and straightened up. “So it matters not where thy next steps might lead thee, I shall remain at thy side with stave and sword, my queen.”

The queen nodded dignified, obviously very pleased with the devotion of her knight. Her eyes caught on Constantine and the Tarnished immediately bowed deeply. “I am glad to see you are well again, Queen Rennala.”

“The Lord of Night”, she hummed and stepped past Moongrum, to face him. Truth be told, he felt ridiculously small in front of her, and in combination with her scrutinizing gaze it intimidated him quite a bit. “My daughter told me, that tis thee I have to thank for her recent visit.”

“Hmm, I would not credit myself for that.” Constantine chuckled sheepishly. He saw how her gaze caught on the Dark Moon Greatsword leaning against the table, her features softening a little. When she looked at him again, she crossed her arms. “My house standeth in thy debt, Tarnished Lord.”

“Oh no! Please don't say that, your majesty.” In a calming manner he held his hands up. “I never intended on making anyone feel indebted to me. Everything I did, I did because I felt it was the right thing to do. Not because I expected any recompense.”

With a skeptical frown she tilted her head, before she shook her head. “Ranni is right. Thou art quite peculiar.” She shrugged. “Ah, she always took a liking to the unique. Be it a little weird.”

“Mother!” Ranni huffed indignantly, when she joined them. She crossed all of her four arms. “At least wait until I am present, before slandering me to my Lord.”

Constantine, grateful to at least have one truly familiar person with him now, threw a desperate gaze towards his wife. Since her mother wasn't looking at her, she merely shrugged her shoulders and smiled apologetic.

The queen raised an eyebrow. “Gazes speak volumes at times, Lord of Night. Thou wouldst do well to remember that.” The look she gave him wasn't really scolding, but rather amused. She turned to leave the room. “I would have a talk with thee. If thou wouldst join me?”

He felt reminded of the threatening words he received from Iji and nervously chewed the inside of his cheek. It was one thing to be scrutinized by the war-counselor, a completely different thing to have a one on one with the Queen of the Full Moon. So it was with reluctance, that he followed Rennala. Ranni winked at him when he passed her and for a moment he was tempted to just drag her with him. Of course he didn't, though imagining her reaction if he would've almost made him snicker.

The queen was standing to the exit to the staircase that lead into the big courtyard, hands folded behind her back and expression unreadable. When he stood besides her, he didn't speak, but rather waited for her to talk. And after another moment of silence, she finally did. “All I built so many years ago lieth in shambles. My subjects, reduced to base instinct. I failed as queen.”

Constantine was surprised. He had expected her to tear into him, threatening to reduce him to ashes should he dare hurt Ranni. To hear her scrutinize herself caught him off guard, but he quickly composed himself. “You have been ill. I think no one can blame you for that.”

“Oh, but they should. As queen, I cannot grant myself that weakness. My mind, so reliable all my life, hath betrayed me. Because my heart weakened it.” She looked down to him. “And even now, with my thoughts mine for the first time in all too many years... I still feel it gnawing on me. Knowing my daughter yet liveth... to an extend, be that... it gave me clarity. But failing my realm when it needed me most still doth fill me with great shame.”

He swayed his head slightly, not agreeing with her statement. “You are a queen, so there is a responsibility you have to shoulder. But you are also a person. With your own thoughts, emotions and burdens. I think it is unfair, to blame just yourself for the state Liurnia is in right now. You lost so much in such short time, no one could've been unaffected by that.” He watched the abductor virgin prowl over the yard ahead of them. With a small smirk he grabbed for the catalyst at his hip and, just like Ranni had shown him, he waved it, sending a glintstone shard at the machine. Immediately it turned towards them, but unable to reach them it quickly lost interest.

“I know how it feels, to be unwilling to accept it, but... I feel despite the insurmountable tasks ahead of us, we should allow ourselves some weakness from time to time.” Putting away his catalyst, he added: “And there are still some of your subjects left, that are loyal to you and house Caria, your majesty. So you won't be alone in your efforts to rebuild Liurnia.”

Rennala sighed, but a little smile was still on her lips. “Thou'rt simplifying all of it quite a bit. But I know thy words come from a good place, so I appreciate them.” She held up her own catalyst, the intricate design making the staff on his hip look like a crude splinter of wood. With one fling of it, she evaporated the abductor virgin. Constantine widened his eyes and shuddered. Despite how cruel the thought was... he was grateful he hadn't actually had to fight Rennala at her full potential. “Ranni chose well, when picking her Lord.”

Slightly awkward he cleared his throat. “Thank you?”

The queen chuckled. “The quality of a man often only revealeth itself outside of the battlefield. In moments of peace. A man that only knoweth the language of the sword doth lack character. But a man that can show compassion in even the darkest times, that can find beauty even in a ruin... such a man can be expected to lead.” When she turned to go back towards the library, he was quick to follow. “Ranni spoke very highly of thee. And though sometimes misguided, I trust her judgment and moreover trust in thine intentions. Both for her and for the Lands Between.”

Her words only made him feel even more awkward, but he also couldn't help but feel flattered that Ranni would speak this positively about him. “What will be your next course of action, your majesty? I suppose Ranni told you about our next steps.”

Rennala huffed. “Both thee and I have great tasks ahead of us, it seemeth. Ranni told me about the endeavor thou art to undertake... Rebuilding a shattered kingdom almost appeareth benign compared to exiling Gods out of these lands.” She sighed once more. “I feel tempted to offer mine assistance in tearing the Golden Order down. Be it out of hurt pride and spite. But this land is in need of guidance. And a reminder that house Caria yet standeth. All of the Lands Between shall do well to hark.”

“How far are you willing to go to spread that message?” It was a daring question, but he was curious. Rennala had led armies before and from a completely practical perspective, now was the best time to start claiming land and integrating it to her territory. He didn't know her well enough to allow himself any hasty judgment about some benevolence. The Queen of the Full Moon was infamous for a reason.

There was a flash of a smile on her lips, but it disappeared so quickly he was almost convinced he imagined it. “Thou art wondering if I will declare war on Leyndell? Or rather the pitiful remains of it?” She shook her head. “Hell knows no fury like a woman scorned, hmm?”

“I don't think you would start an offensive out of scorn, but rather because the opportunity is presenting itself to you.” Constantine looked straight ahead, just like her. Banishing all gods from the Lands Between was his main goal. To leave these lands after all work was done. And as genuinely happy he was to see the Queen of the Full Moon out of her catatonic state, he still wondered if she truly was stable enough to take over the reigns of Liurnia once more.

“Tarnished Lord, let me confide in thee once more. I despise this golden tree. I despise how it set the base for my demise. But I do not seek vengeance. If I am to don mine armor once more, it will be only in defense of Liurnia. Ne'er have I been the aggressor. Only ever the one defending.” She stopped walking and ice blue eyes fixated him in their gaze. “I seek no war. My nation is not one of conquerors, but of scholars.”

He met her icy gaze thoughtfully, deeply lost in his mind. Once more, he was faced with someone of high standing, unsure if he could trust them. Yes, all the tales he had heard about Rennala painted her as a rather gentle ruler, but there were also the tales of brutal retaliation when cornered. And though it made him sick to his stomach to think like that, there was also the fact that her mind was proven to be fickle.

“Thou art doubtful if after all I am still capable of leading a kingdom. And to that, I want to be truthful with thee, as thou hast been with me. Years of imprisonment in mine own mind left scars. They might ne'er heal. But I solemnly swear, that I will not fail as queen again.” She raised her chin slightly.

He smiled softly and inclined his head. “I trust in your word.” Maybe it was a bit audacious of him, to dare to even imply his approval would mean anything to the queen. But he was indeed ready to challenge her, should she start a war that would tear the Lands Between further apart. What good was it to banish greedy gods, giving the denizens of the lands a new chance at finding a purpose without divine intervention, when there was a war bringing another form of torment. “I hope I did not offend you.”

Apparently Rennala took no offense to his boldness. “Thy trust is well placed.” A small smirk crossed her features. “And Ranni is right, thou art unbearably considerate.”

“She said that?”, he laughed and shook his head. It amused him greatly to hear that and imagine her roll her eye in that mock annoyance she often had.

“Tis a shame we won't get to properly celebrate the union of the two of ye.” She sounded rather displeased. “Such a joyous occasion in dire times, and not even a bell doth toll to announce it.”

Constantine hummed in agreement. He wondered how things would've looked, if the Shattering didn't happen. How would the celebration for their marriage have looked? Instead of a damp cave, an unspoken vow and clumsy confessions of love... what could've been? A lavish celebration, cheering nobles and heartfelt vows in sacred halls? Their fist kiss not amid snow and moonlight, but before an altar.

He quickly dismissed those senseless fantasies. If it weren't for the Shattering and the consequential downfall of a lot of the Lands Between, he was sure he would've never met Ranni. Let alone marry her. So no matter how modest it all had been... he would've married her in the sewers, rather than never knowing her in the first place. Despite the relatively short time they had known each other, he cherished each and every memory he had with her.

Lost in thought like he was, he didn't notice the amused spark in Rennala's eyes, until she chuckled: “Thy gaze is giving thee away again, Lord of Night.” Hastily he straightened up and cleared his throat. “Ah... I'm sorry.”

A loud yelp set the two of them in high alarm immediately. Looking down the corridor towards the elevator to the library, they saw Moongrum tumble over the ground after being hit by a powerful spell. Hurrying past the queen, Constantine reached for his sword and cursed when his hands reached for air. It was still in Moongrum's quarters. It would take too much time to retrieve it, especially when Ranni was probably in danger.

So, disregarding his own safety completely, he jogged onto the small court. Moongrum was still down, the hit he had received was hard enough to knock him out. He was bleeding from a wound on his head, that he probably received when hitting the floor. For a moment the Tarnished was torn on whether he should hurry to Ranni, or make sure the knight wasn't mortally wounded. Rennala took that decision from him, when she walked up to her knight and kneed down besides him. “Take care of the intruder.”

With a firm nod he turned towards the impending fight. Ranni stood unharmed and apparently also unimpressed across from the intruder, holding her catalyst in one hand and eyeing her foe full of disdain. Constantine stared in disbelieve when he saw who it was that was attacking them.

“Sellen?” He felt puzzled when seeing the sorceress standing there, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She slowly turned the face of the stone mask she was wearing towards him to face him. Just now did he see the small woman that accompanied her. The girl was clad in gray robes, clutching her simple glintstone staff. One look into her eyes told him that she was Tarnished, just as he was.

“Tadpole. It has been a while.” The woman scoffed underneath her stone mask. “As I can see you are still clinging to the skirt of your little lunar witch. And here I hoped you would grow out of your ridiculous crush.”

He ignored her words. “Why are you attacking us?”

Just like he had ignored her snide remark, she ignored his question in kind. Instead she pointed towards the catalyst fastened to his hip. “How many times did I try to convince you to try out magic? Pah, I am offended! But no matter, I found an apprentice worth my time.”

Without looking at him, Ranni slowly asked: “Thou art acquainted with the Graven Witch, Constantine?”

“She helped us when we were searching for Nokron”, he answered truthfully and his wife frowned deeply, obviously displeased to hear that part of her own plan had only been possible thanks to Sellen.

“Constantine? Oh what a dashing name for a lap dog!” Sellen laughed, the sound hollow through the mask. “Now be a good boy and sit.”

“You sound like Seluvis. Are the two of you related or something? Is that why you knew him?” He raised an eyebrow and she immediately stopped laughing. “There was no need to be insulting, Tadpole.” Out of the corner he saw how Ranni pursed her lips in a displeased manner, when the other woman called him by that nickname she had chosen for him.

Ranni looked at Sellen with a scrutinizing gaze. “So why are you here, Graven Witch? I recall thee being expelled from these grounds due to the atrocities thou'st committed to thy peers.”

“Pah, narrow minded talk of a line faded to obscurity. I am here to relieve you of that burden. Caria isn't fit to rule over the academy anymore.” Sellen snorted mockingly. “I mean look at this. What a sorry excuse of a ruler would let this happen? While the queen stayed here, wallowing in her own misery, I have been busy. And thanks to this most precious apprentice of mine, I will take the rule over the academy, so we can all study without the moralistic sentimentality of a long dead house.”

“Don't”, was all Constantine replied at that, anger clawing at his heart. He didn't want to fight Sellen, but if she threatened those he held dear, than he would kill her. Without a blade, his bare fists would have to suffice. But he knew from experience, they were effective enough. Just as he balled his fists, he saw how the Tarnished that had arrived with the Graven Witch loosened a spell from her catalyst.

The glintstone projectile was aimed at Ranni, but it bounced off an invisible barrier. While he had been ready to jump in front of her, to protect her with his own body, his wife merely scoffed. “Shooting glintstone pebbles... how pesky.”

“Let me take care of this”, he almost growled and she nodded, clear annoyance visible on her spectral face. While rolling his shoulders in a casual manner, he approached the two newcomers. “I really don't want to fight you, Sellen.”

“Then fight alongside me. Help me eradicating this pathetic lineage once and for all”, the sorceress answered and he couldn't hide his disdain anymore. “Fat chance.”

“So be it.” As he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, the Tarnished with Sellen suddenly raised one hand and waved in an exaggerated motion. “Hey!” Confused, Constantine stopped in his tracks. “Huh...”

The Tarnished crouched down a couple of times in a row, leaving her opponent in absolute confusion. Once again she waved at him, shouting: “Hey!” With a very irritated frown he turned around to Ranni. “Do you have any idea...?”

Ranni looked just as confused as he felt. “Mayhaps she hath brain damage?”

When he turned to look at his opponent again, she rapidly switched between holding her catalyst in a fighting stance and in a defensive stance. Constantine shook his head, eyebrows raised high. “You really managed to win over the best Tarnished, Ranni. Just want to throw that out here.” He pointed at the other Tarnished, that was now frantically spinning on one place. “Because that is an alternative.”

“I cherish thee and thine ability of communicating in full sentences, dearest consort.”

He returned his attention back to the fight ahead of him. The Tarnished would hardly be a problem, she looked incredibly weak. Sellen, on the other hand, would be more of a challenge. As he started running towards his opponents, the Tarnished finally cut out her weird behavior and started bombarding him with spells. Most of them he was able to evade and the one's he didn't more or less bounced off of his armor without causing him more than a little discomfort.

Once he reached her, he kicked her hard so to throw her off balance and stop her from casting any close range spells. One of his gloved hands crushed into her throat will full force, breaking the hyoid. The Tarnished croaked in pain and in one swift motion Constantine stood behind her and grabbed her chin and back of skull. Her neck broke surprisingly easy.

While her body disappeared into nothing but ashes – it disturbed Constantine to think that he looked the same when dying – Sellen clicked her tongue, like this was nothing more than a slight inconvenience. “Now that is unfortunate.”

“The next site of Grace is quite a ways off. So it will take a while before she returns.” He was aware of the reality. She would be back, he had seen the remnants of Grace sparkle in her eyes. It was yet guiding her, making it impossible to truly kill her by normal means. “I am offering you mercy, for helping me when I came to you. Just leave and never return. Conduct your research elsewhere.”

“You offer me mercy? The big ugly tadpole, donning a pretty armor is offering me, weak little damsel that I am, mercy? Gracious me, the generosity.”

He shook his head. “It doesn't have to end like this.”

“Oh stars, stop prolonging this you craven.” She snarled. “Do I have to aim at your dolly before you finally fight me?”

“Constantine if thou art unwilling to slay her, then I will do so gladly”, Ranni said and he refrained from throwing a slightly annoyed look towards her. Now was really not the right time for provocations. Despite Sellen's hostile words, he was still hoping to solve this situation peacefully. So turning his head slightly to rebuke his wife, he shortly diverted his attention.

Sellen used that opening without even a moment of hesitation. The spell that hit him was powerful, throwing him to the ground with force and sending electric shocks of magical energy through his body. She was obviously stronger than the young Tarnished he had fought before, though he had expected that. Someone having that level of infamy needed to carry some power. He groaned in pain, feeling dizzy and slightly disorientated. Oh fine, if she wanted it that way she would get it!

Fuming with anger, he got to his feet, ready to kill the sorceress with his bare hands. Then he remembered the catalyst on his hip and quickly drew it. That earned him a mocking laugh from his opponent. “You are not seriously trying to fight me with magic? Hah, the arrogance! Like a kitten, facing down a runebear.”

Constantine shrugged. “Despite claiming to be so smart, you're missing one thing.” He flipped the catalyst once, grinning darkly. “A staff is nothing but a fancy club.”

“Of course an uncivilized brute would spout such insults. I don't know why I even dared to question your allegiance with those moon-worshiping lunatics.” She raised her catalyst and waved it once in a challenging motion. “Now come.”

Still grinning, quite pleased to have annoyed her like this, he lunged forward. Sellen was bombarding him with spells. Some of them he had never seen before, the spectacle of them almost beautiful. He might've appreciated the play of lights more, if the projectiles weren't aimed at him. A few of her attacks hit him, though his new set of armor proved to be rather resistant to magic damage.

Closing up on her, he aimed at her knee with his staff. The sorceress evaded, instead striking him across the head with her catalyst. Stars danced before his eyes and he felt blood dribbling down his forehead. Wavering a second, he gave her enough time to shoot one of her spells at him with full force. He howled in pain and almost prepared for his demise, when a wave of flames made Sellen flinch and back off.

Ranni held her sword in an upright motion, almost like she was about to swear a knight's vow. The attack from his wife gave Constantine enough time to get back up and use the gap in Sellen's defense to cast just one spell, remembering some of Moongrum's words about the Carian spells. It was a gamble, but when the blue blade materialized at the tip of his staff, he couldn't help but smile triumphantly.

He struck her once across the abdomen, the magic blade cutting deep into the flesh. The sorceress stumbled back, disregarding her catalyst and pressing both her hands to the wound. His grip around the catalyst still painfully tight, he approached Sellen. She still held the wound on her abdomen, blood gushing to the floor.

With a heavy sigh he raised his staff, so the glintstone pressed against her throat. “I didn't want this.”

She snickered, the sound raspy and wet from the blood undoubtedly pooling in her mouth. “You”, she exhaled heavily, raising a shaky hand to put it on his cheek. He merely frowned, pulling away from the touch, but she didn't relent. “You would've made one fine apprentice, my dear Tadpole.”

He cursed loudly, when a beam of energy ripped a gaping hole into Sellen's chest, barely missing him. The sorceress crumbled to the floor, not even enough time to react to the aatack before she was dead. When he turned around, almost ready to blame Rennala for this, he saw how Ranni slowly lowered the sword in her hands, a faint afterglow still visible on the tip of it. He would have to ask her to demonstrate the powers of this sword later on. “That was awfully close, Ranni.”

She scoffed. “Oh the theatricals. There was plenty of room.” Sheathing the sword in a fluid motion, she almost grumbled: “And... I could not stand her calling thee her... tadpole. What a ridiculous name. Pah.” Constantine raised an eyebrow. “I didn't think you would be the jealous type.”

His comment only resulted in another sharp exhale, though this time she held her gaze lowered to obscure her features. “That is because I am not. I merely was unwilling to accept this blatant disrespect.” She crossed her arms in a defensive manner. “But if thou'rt yearning for it, I can call thee by stupid names as well.”

He approached her at a leisurely pace, taking a sip from his Crimson Tears to heal the still bleeding wound on his head. “Oh, give me some examples.”

“Donkey”, she answered, raising her head just enough so he could see the smile on her lips. “Stubborn and loud, but with pretty eyes.” In a mock display of thoughtfulness she tilted her head. “Doth that please thee, my stubborn donkey?”

Constantine grinned. “Only if you give me some Rowa Raisins.” She snorted at that, softly nudging his upper arm. “Curses. Let me be mad with thee...” Slowly she lowered her arm. “The Graven Witch... wert thou well acquainted?”

“No”, he answered truthfully. “She helped me along my journey, so it is a shame things had to end like this. But she brought it upon herself. Is... was it foolish of me, to try to convince her to leave?”

She shook her head and looked at him with a tender expression. “Mayhaps foolish, but also so very kind. Tis admirable, thou art capable to still believe in the good in people, despite all of the times thou'st been burned.”

“Admirable, or stupid”, he laughed wryly. Ranni sighed, softly patting his shoulder. “I have been graced with thy kindness despite all thou knowest about my past. Let me assure thee, tis admirable.” One of her fingers traced the outline of his jaw. “And I sincerely hope thou wilt not lose this kindness.” Meeting her gaze, he softly answered: “Never towards you.”

“Hey!” The female Tarnished that had accompanied Sellen was back. Having enough of fighting with sub-optimal weapons, he used his proximity to Ranni, to take the sword from her. But before he could fully draw the weapon, he was hit with something the Tarnished had thrown at him. The throwing dagger bore deep into his neck.

With a quick spell from Ranni the opponent was killed once more, but Constantine was already down on his knees, holding his neck while bleeding out. She tried to hold him upright. “Stay with me.” Hastily she fished for the flask of Crimson Tears, but before she could make him drink any of the concoction, he was already dissolving to ashes in her arms.

Darkness.

It was in the debate parlor, that he awoke again. Something was wrong. He immediately knew it. Coughing wildly, he held his hurting neck and frowned. Usually the pain from the wound that had brought his newest death would fade rather quickly after awaking at Grace. Now he felt like there was still a big bruise left, the area sensitive to the touch and the taste of blood still too prominent in his mouth.

When he spat out, he saw how his saliva was still of a pinkish color. Confused he looked over to the Site of Grace and when he watched the golden light flicker, almost disappearing completely for a second, he immediately knew what was happening.

It had only been a question of time. He was losing the guidance of Grace. Some remnants were still there, but it was clear that those sparse glimpses would fade too eventually. Constantine sighed deeply and rubbed across his face with his hands. Death... a stranger to Tarnished, but without even the little bit of Grace in him, it became a frightful reality.

He stood up and fought down the wave of vertigo attacking his senses. After getting his composure back, he started his walk back towards the library. He really hoped Grace wouldn't completely abandon him, before the end of his journey.

“Oh I am so fucked....”

Chapter Text

Seeing Rennala sit behind her desk in the office of the headmaster was feeling almost surreal, like a snipped of the past had come to life again. A lot of the former glory was gone, with the desk itself covered by a thick layer of dust and the whole room in a slight state of disarray, but the sight nonetheless left an impression with Constantine. The amber egg, still harboring the Great Rune, was placed on the desk.

When he had joined back with Ranni after his encounter with death, he decided against telling her about his loosening grip on Grace. Despite her act of appearing unbothered by what had happened, he knew her well enough by now to read the nuances in her body language. A careful touch to the place on his neck where the dagger had hit him. An almost nervous smile when he assured her he was fine. And even after she had made sure he was unharmed, he had still caught her occasional glance towards him, as if to make sure he was still there.

Even though she didn't like to admit it, she cared. It made him feel all fuzzy to think about that, strengthening his resolve to keep the bad news of his fading Grace from her. She needn't have to worry about that too. He would have to be more careful from now on, though. Every death could be final, so there was little room for error.

“For now, my highest priority lieth with assembling allies. We will need every capable hand, to rebuild Liurnia”, Rennala said towards Moongrum and her knight nodded, a thoughtful hand on his chin. “I know of a few nobles left. They retreated when the war broke out, unwilling to commit treason against Caria, but also unwilling to deny the forces of the Cuckoo. We might be able to gain some resources from them.” He had refused Constantine's offer to drink a sip of the Crimson Tears, instead wrapping the wound on his head in some bandages. There had been some mumbled comments about the horrible taste of the healing potion. Something about a lobster's moldy rear... The Tarnished couldn't even deny that the concoction tasted absolutely rancid, and that he merely got used to it.

“What is the state of my family's estate? Doth it yet stand?” It was Ranni that answered this time, leaning against the big desk. “I defended the manor to the best of mine abilities. Just like with any of our strongholds, the treacherous Cuckoos tried to claim it as well, be it to only lay ruin to it.”

“How many of thy men are still alive, Sir Moongrum?” Questions upon questions, of someone assessing how many pieces they had left on the board before planning their next move. The Glintstone Knight twirled his mustache. “Not many, I am afraid. Most of them fell while defending the rightful claims of house Caria. There were also traitors...” The last sentence was more spat than spoken.

“I see...” Rennala hummed, before she slowly took off her crown and rubbed her temples. Her smooth features betrayed apparent age, but the flashes of gray amid her jet black hair were a clear indicator of passing time. Of course, there were also her eyes. Pale blue, with a gaze both wary and weary. Witness to centuries passing.

Constantine felt slightly out of place, having neither in depth knowledge about the current state of Liurnia, nor any strategic insight. So to not stand in the way, he was leaning against one of the bookshelves and read in a small book, though he found it hard to concentrate on the content of the pages. His thoughts were still rather preoccupied by his newest predicament.

“We will set up base at the estate of Caria. From there we will have to assess how to proceed”, the queen finally said. “The academy scholars are apparently no longer willing to cooperate with Caria and as of now we are lacking the forces to purge these halls... at least not without unnecessary bloodshed, that is.”

“Iji wilt be overjoyed to see thee again.” Ranni laid the upper set of her hands together at their fingertips. “I will send Adula to thee to assist, after we reach Altus.”

The prospect of flying with the dragon once more made Constantine's stomach churn and he felt nauseous from just thinking about it. At least he could be sure that it would be the last time on the creature's back. And he didn't eat anything since the last time he flew, so there was nothing left to hurl up.

“Prepare everything for our departure, Sir Moongrum, and report back once thou art done.” Her knight bowed deeply, before leaving the office. The queen softly laid a hand on the amber egg that was sitting before her, for a short moment her gaze looked forlorn. She quickly averted it, instead directing it towards Constantine. “Tarnished Lord. I entrust thee with this Great Rune. On my path ahead, I will find no need for it.”

The Tarnished stepped up to the desk, laying the book in his hands back on the stack he had found it on. Reluctantly he closed his hands around the warm amber, feeling the sheer power pulsate through the artifact. “I will have to destroy it, to claim the Rune...”

Rennala had a wry smile on her lips. “Tis the departing gift of a long lost life. I... shall no longer cling to it. Neither to the egg, nor the love I lost.” Out of the corner of his eyes he saw how a smile tucked on the corners of Ranni's lips. She was clearly overjoyed about the recovery of her mother.

With as much force as he could muster up, he slammed the amber to the ground. It shattered into thousands of pieces, setting free the Rune that was embedded inside of it. As he accepted the Rune into his body, he shuddered and clenched his teeth. It was his fourth one, he should be used to the feeling by now, but it still was slightly unpleasant. The surge of heat flowing down his spine, in combination with the feeling of heat in his eyes was something he was sure he would never get used to.

“I feel our time to depart hath come, mother”, Ranni said after he gave her a small nod to indicate he was fine. “We will be heading towards Leyndell eventually... Any words I can impart on father, should I meet him?”

Rennala didn't answer for a while, before she crossed her legs and in a casual manner leaned against the armrest of the chair. “No words. But a hefty kick to the groin.”

“Mother!”, Ranni rebuked mortified. Constantine started laughing hard, which earned him a dire expression from his wife. He only laughed louder and in the end Ranni joined in.

After a few more minutes of conversation, their topics now a little less severe, they decided to finally say their goodbyes to the queen. Rennala sighed deeply, standing up from behind her desk and approached her daughter. “My little Ranni.” With an expression full of love she leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “My little miracle... weave thy night into being.”

The demigod was clearly struggling to contain her emotions upon hearing those words. In an uncharacteristically hasty motion she wrapped her arms around her mother, burying her face on her shoulder. She held the tight hug for a few more moments, before she took a step back. “I wish thee success in thy path ahead, mother. Know that the Greater Will shalt ne'er badger thee again, once I set mine order into motion.”

“Just be careful”, was all the queen answered, as she folded her hands behind her back and directed her gaze to Constantine. “Those words are addressed to thee as well, Lord of Night. I prithee thee, assist my daughter on her way to ascension. Be her shield and sword.”

The Tarnished bowed his head in his typical manner. “Of course, your majesty.”

Rennala nodded dignified, her cool demeanor betrayed by the tears in the corners of her eyes. “Very well, then this shall be farewell. I...”, she cleared her throat, blinking a few times to chase away her tears, “I will await the new age with great anticipation.”

Ranni wrung the lower set of her hands. “Farewell, mother. I am so very glad to have been able to properly say my goodbyes to thee. A-as much as it doth hurt to leave thee so soon, after getting thee back.”

“No day will pass I will not think of thee. I am so very proud of thee, Ranni.” She smiled warmly and Constantine saw how Ranni's shoulders slightly slouched, as if she was losing her bravado. He laid a hand on her right and squeezed it slightly. She leaned into his touch.

They were already in the process of leaving, when the queen leaned forward once more, whispering something into Ranni's ear. He didn't hear it, only saw the reaction of his wife. Her expression changed from melancholic, to surprised, to embarrassed. She covered her face with a hand and hurried out of the office, only mumbling a quick: “Farewell.”

Constantine was left behind, slightly baffled and looked towards the queen. She had a mischievous spark in her eyes, one he knew all too well from a certain demigod that loved to lure reactions out of him. He couldn't deny that it amused him greatly to see she wasn't immune to it either.

“Farewell, Queen Rennala”, he said and bowed once, eager to catch up to Ranni and ask her about what it had been her mother said to her. The woman chuckled and sat down behind her desk again “Farewell, Lord of Night.”

When he finally reached Ranni, she wasn't able to hold his gaze. He tried his best to hide a smirk. “You left in quite the haste. What did she say that made you react like this?”

She merely squirmed and shook her head. “Tis of no importance.”

“Aww, come on. Please tell me.” He laid an arm around her shoulders and drew her close, as they walked towards the academy gates. His wife didn't answer at first, but then she pressed out: “She... she remarked on how we would have the most beautiful children...” He raised his eyebrows and felt a nervous laugh creep up his throat. Ranni quickly added: “Tis a ridiculous statement. We cannot have children.”

Still having his arm around her, he merely squeezed her shoulder once. “The thought is still kinda nice...” He smiled. “It is nice to sometimes think about what could be. But I also have to admit, that what we actually have is beating any stupid little fantasy, if you ask me.”

Another moment of silence passed, before she whispered. “It is...” If she meant the thought about children or their current relationship with that answer, he couldn't determine. And as much as he usually would've loved to ask, the closer they got to the exit of the academy the more he reminded himself what lied ahead of them. More specifically, the flight ahead of them.

He would have to give Torrent some treat at the next opportunity. Simply for not being a flying creature.

--------------------------------------

Ranni was surprised she would feel this sense of utter glee, when seeing the constant golden light of the Erdtree replaced by the fiery red gleam of the flames consuming the monument of the Golden Order. The cherry on top of her immense schadenfreude was to see the pompous buildings of the capital smothered in ashes. All their fancy golden ornaments, suffocated under gray. She might've giggled a little upon seeing all of this, if she were alone.

The decision of where to go next had been rather easy. Constantine had brought up the argument to look, if the thorns denying entry into the Erdtree were truly burned away. After that, all their other destinations were easily reached. Gelmir wasn't far, as was the Elevator of Rold, leading them to the consecrated snowfields. There were other locations on their list, but they either lied on their way, or were just as easily reached from Leyndell.

When looking over to Constantine, she caught the glint of sadness in his eyes, as he looked up the Erdtree towards its burning crown. Was he mourning the destruction of the tree? No, she knew he didn't care for the thing. It was the loss of the Kindling Maiden, that had accompanied him for the longest part of his journey. Not only she had suffered losses along this arduous part...

“Thou art awfully quiet. Usually thou art hard to convince to silence.” Ranni tried distracting him from his sadness, initiating some of the banter they so often had. She loved it, that exchange of affectionate verbal sparring that always managed to bring a smile to her lips. Usually he was quick to join in, but this time he only gave her a tired smile.

She sighed and pursed her lips. As much of a joy he was usually to be around, it made the times he was downtrodden all the more jarring. “What is on thy mind?”

“I was just thinking that it is a shame that all the beauty of this city is now buried under ash... I feel like no matter where I go, I only leave death and destruction behind.” He was quick to make a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Ah, don't mind me... I don't want to seem like I'm only ever moping.”

“Hadst thou seen the capitol before the Shattering, thou wouldst not say that. Twas a pretty sight, yes. But the things that took place in these streets...” She remembered the things she saw when having to do her obligatory visits to her father and almost felt sick again. Wealth and excessive resources were often a ground that bred debauchery. The nightlife was dictated by intoxication. Drugs, alcohol and sex, all easy to get under the golden shine of the Erdtree.

Ranni had always felt disgusted by the mentality of the populous of Leyndell. Preaching piety at day, and indulging in depravity by night. She even caught herself thinking about how it was really no wonder the Age of Plenty found an end and the guidance of the Greater Will was fading. Was it ashamed of what it created?

Many sour memories came to her mind, when she thought about an example to tell her consort about and make him understand that there was no need to feel bad. That sometimes destruction was the only right way. Especially that one restless night she had strolled the city streets came to mind. Hood pulled deep, so no one would see her face or red hair. Thoughts marred by sorrows of two fingers that held her fate.

It was down in the less wealthy parts of the golden city, that she had stopped in her tracks upon hearing a woman wailing and a man shouting. Curiosity had lead her to the origin of the commotion and what she saw would only spur her hatred for the Golden Order.

A woman on her knees right in front of her house, begging with tears streaming down her face. Her hands were stretched towards the towering man in front of her, who was holing something that Ranni couldn't make out with the dim lighting the street lamps gave off. Until the masked man turned slightly upon hearing her steps, his hideous mask facing her.

He held a baby in his hand, the tiny creature hanging limply upside down while the Omenkiller had wrapped his hand around its ankles. It looked like he was holding a hare he had just hunted, not a human. There was blood dripping to the cobblestone, from multiple wounds all over the body of the baby. Ranni knew enough about the customs of the Golden Order, to realize that those wounds were from where the tiny horns had been cut off the little Omen.

Constantine listened to her retelling of those evening's events, his expression getting more dire by the second. He even scoffed outraged, when she recalled how she had confronted her father about the – in her eyes – crimes that were happening with his blessing and how Radagon had only said in his soft way of speaking: “Tis necessary. One day, thou wilt be able to see reason in it, little firefly:” She remembered how she had to fight down the urge to punch his face.

Ranni didn't tell Constantine how she would have nightmares about the Omen Baby's marred corpse, even years later. How anyone could do something so cruel, to a being utterly innocent... even she, calculating and callous at times as she was, couldn't comprehend it.

“We are doing the right thing, by tearing this damn Order down”, he mumbled quietly. “Maybe a new start will help people see clearer.” Those were relatively naive words. Ranni understood why he would think that way, she herself had once believed that people were capable of fundamental change. Now though, years upon years of her life behind her, she knew better.

People would never just be “good”. There would never be just black and white either, though. No one was just good or evil. Life was nuanced, and she found a certain beauty in that fact. People would still hate, fight and betray each other, even in the new Age that was to come. But they would also love, trust and support one another all the same.

No, people would not change. But that wasn't the goal she had in mind. She just wanted all of it to finally be fully real. To not be something the gods conjured up or initiated, but something that sprouted from the hearts of man. “It remaineth to be seen, dear. All we can be sure of, without a doubt, that none will be under the control of a selfish god. And as someone that hath experienced the chains of divine control, I can assure thee that freedom wilt be a marvelous gift to all that reside in the Lands Between. ” She laughed a little, no real joy in it. “Some will call me a fiend for what I do nonetheless.”

“I can imagine that some will have problems adjusting to suddenly not get all their steps dictated by faith... Ahh...” He immediately caught on to the meaning behind her words and she nodded. “Yes. And let us not forget that twas I that initiated the catalyst that threw these lands into war. They are right to curse me. I took all they knew and the worst is yet to come.”

Constantine looked to the ground, as they walked a few steps, but then looked to her and smiled softly at her. “And just as many will celebrate you, for freeing them. It does not count for much, but I am among them.”

Ah, there was this feeling again. Warmth, all throughout her body and mind. If only he knew how much he meant to her... How much his words meant to her. To know that the man she was set on spending eternity with was having her back. Ranni, unable to speak her feelings aloud, just smiled tenderly at her husband.

They were setting foot inside the Erdtree Sanctuary, when she felt a shift in his relaxed demeanor. Following his gaze, she saw why he was so tense. A singular person stood there, arms outstretched like he had been awaiting them. Ranni had never seen the man in the flesh, but upon seeing the armor he wore, she immediately knew who it was. Decorated with eyes and ears made of metal all over, it was a tell-tale piece of gear. Sir Gideon Ofnir, the all-knowing. Such an audacious title.

His voice was sonorous, almost snaring: “Ahh, I knew you'd come. To stand before the Elden Ring. To become Elden Lord. What a sad state of affairs. I command your spirit, but alas, none shall take the throne.”

“You want to stop me?” Constantine scoffed, his usually soft voice permeated by disdain.

“No. Not want. Will.” The old man flaunted his catalyst in a manner that seemed insultingly casual. Ranni felt his eyes on her, even though they were obscured by his helmet. “Ahh, the illusive Lunar Princess. It's a shame you gave up on your Great Rune, otherwise I'd almost be pleased to make your acquaintance.”

She knew men like Gideon. All her life she had to contest with the likes of them. So she knew exactly what to say. “And who mightst thou be, Tarnished?” Her words had the intended effect. The man huffed, outraged she would dare to question his importance. The self-centered nobles of Leyndell often were the same, getting careless with rage upon being belittled. Especially by a woman.

“My name-”, he started, but she made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Is of no importance to me. Make way, Tarnished.”

“O Ranni... I love you so much”, she heard Constantine gasp breathlessly, almost making her lose her composure and start chuckling. She bit back the laugh and instead kept an eye on the all-knowing. It was subtle, but she saw how the catalyst in his hand started shaking. Probably from rage.

Her consort surprised her, when he once again took the word, this time not standing still but rather approaching the other man. “She is far kinder than I am. Because I promised you'll regret it should we cross parts again. And here we are.” He drew his sword.

Gideon scoffed once more. “Queen Marika has high hopes for us. That we continue to struggle. Unto eternity.” He loosened a spell, but Constantine evaded it with ease. Ranni didn't intervene in this fight, simply because she knew her consort would emerge victorious. Gideon was arrogant and far too certain of his victory, underestimating his opponent. Constantine was level-headed and while slightly cocky, he was also almost frightening in his cold brutality.

She felt she would insult him, if she'd get involved in each of his fights.

Watching the two Tarnished fight was quite captivating. Their style of fighting varied vastly from another. While Constantine was more of a swordsman, focused on close quarter combat, Gideon used his spells to keep his foe at a distance. And for the most part he was successful, managing to keep her consort out of striking distance. However, the Lord of Night was also skillfully evading the spells and incantations of his opponent.

It almost felt like this fight would go nowhere and that the winner was merely determined by who of the the two had more stamina. Then, right after diving out of the way of a phalanx of Glintstone Blades, Constantine drew his own catalyst and fired a spell from it. It was just a Glintstone shard, but he managed nonetheless to disrupt Gideon's balance by hitting the hand with his staff to the side. It gave him room to push forward, right past the defense of his foe.

The all-knowing croaked in pain and surprise, as the Dark Moon Greatsword bore into his abdomen. That hit alone was already enough to spell his end, but Constantine, obviously relishing in his victory, used his strength to hurl the dying Tarnished from his sword, over the floor. The body rolling over the ground left a bloody streak.

For a moment Gideon didn't move, but then he rolled onto his back. Coughing up blood and unsuccessfully trying to hold the gaping wound in his stomach shut, he pressed out: “I know... in my bones... A Tarnished cannot become a Lord. Not even you. A man cannot kill a god...”

Constantine crouched down besides the dying man and with an ice cold smile on his lips, he sneered: “I would say watch me... but I am afraid you won't live to see it.” He straightened up and mercilessly kicked the other Tarnished once, not receiving any reaction. Gideon was dead. The fact he did not dissolve into ashed made it clear, that he had lost the guidance of Grace and hence the ability to revive after death.

Ranni saw a shadow flicker across the features of her lord. He quickly composed himself, though, turning to face her and grin. “Did you see that? Battle Mage.”

“Thou'st taken a liking to the sorcerous arts, it appeareth.” She approached him, mindful to not step into the sizable puddle of blood around Gideon. “Thy form still is horrendous. Glintstone really must be close to thy soul, else it would not answer to thy call with the way thou art flinging about thy stave.” She winked at him, showing that she was merely teasing him.

He only huffed, smiling slightly, before picking up a simple linen bag and started rummaging through it. She couldn't help but be slightly irked by the tasteless conduct of Constantine. Immediately rummaging through the belongings of a dead man... no matter who it had been and how little reverence he deserved, she still felt it was slightly tacky.

Apparently her consort had seen her expression, because he said: “The man hoarded information. Some of it will be useful for our way ahead, I am certain.” He pulled out a few rolls of parchment out of the bag, opening one of them. Reading the content of the scroll, he slowly started to frown, before lowering the parchment and murmuring: “Or maybe not...”

Curious about his reaction, she took the scripture out of his hand. Upon reading the first few sentences, she started laughing. It was a report on the mating habits of Glintstone Dragons. Her consort watched her reaction and moped. “Yeah yeah, really funny... Why would that old fucker save something like this.”

“All knowledge is valuable. The value lieth in the eye of the beholder. Though I have to admit, that in this case tis only valuable thanks to the reaction it earned from thee.” She rolled the parchment back up, before stretching out a hand and asking for the bag. Constantine handed it to her and she said: “I will take it upon myself to sort through all of it. Despite this first rather amusing mishap, I am certain thou art actually right about the possibly useful information.”

“Are you not confident in my literacy, or why do you want to take this over?” She saw the offended spark in his eyes and shook her head. “Of course not. Tis merely... I am terribly curious about the subjects the all-knowing looked into.” Putting the scroll back into the bag, she quietly added: “I myself have conducted mine own research. Years of being forced into stasis because the access to Nokron hath been denied, left me with quite some time at my hands. Mayhaps I should not think like that, but... my competitive spirit shineth through. I need to compare the results of my discoveries with what this Tarnished hath discovered.”

Constantine smirked. “Just be honest, you want to read through some of it to give Adula tips on how to get a mate.” Ranni merely sighed deeply. “As certain as I am she would appreciate mine advice on the matter, I feel we should proceed and finally confirm our way inside the Erdtree is free.”

As she started walking ahead, he was quick to follow. “She?”

“Adula. She is a female. Didst thou not spare the time to converse with her?” She raised an eyebrow and he looked slightly flabbergasted. “I was most of the time more occupied by not getting turned into a nice snack, or vomit on my breeches... I did not know she is capable of speech.”

“Well yes. Despite not being an ancient dragon descending from Farum Azula, she is extraordinarily intelligent. I always enjoyed conversing with her. She is quite witty.” Ranni chuckled while reminiscing about the stimulating conversations she had with her loyal knight. Though it did not surprise her, that her consort hadn't talked to the dragon. The ancient tongue of the creatures was quite hard to master and she doubted he had any points of contact with them outside of fierce battle.

Leaving the small hall, they continued their way to the base of the Erdtree. Ranni had to admit, it felt weird returning to this place after all those years. Many things were the same as when she last had been here, but just as many were completely different. The oppressive atmosphere of it all remained.

Constantine turned towards her when they entered Marika's chamber. The queen would hold audiences in the surprisingly unpretentious room, listening to the woes of her subjects. Only once did the Eternal invite Ranni to stay by her side on such a day. It would be her duty one day as well, so she better pay attention. The Lunar Princes had hated every second of it. Not the part of listening to the worries of the nobles. She had made experience with that from accompanying her mother, she knew plenty about handling those matters with poise and kindness.

No, what had irked her so much were the gold coated words the Eternal had directed towards the nobles. Far from realistic, tainted by religious ideology and in the end absolutely without any substance. Marika struck Ranni as one of the sleazy nobles that would often try to worm their way into positions of power by trying to woo her. Exaggerated pleasantries, without an ounce of sincerity.

Of course, not fearing the Eternal, Ranni had told her about her thoughts after the last visitor left. Marika had sighed deeply back then, an expression of clear disappointment on her face. “There remaineth a lot for thee to learn still. Thou wilt see, once thou art seated on the throne.” The thought of her atop that hideous stone seat was still as ridiculous to her now, as it had been back then.

“I will go ahead to check on the thorns. Do you want to accompany me?” Her consort was kind to ask. Of course he sensed how this environment reminded her of past days and the pain it brought to think about it. She never had enjoyed being in Leyndell, but the yard right in front of the Erdtree held a special place of contempt for her. Born as a child of two champions, to then be elevated to demigod after her father had abandoned her mother to become Elden Lord... those thrones in front of the big tree were a reminder of it. “If thou wert to agree with it, I would prefer to remain here... I will study the scrolls in the meantime.”

Constantine smiled and slightly bowed his head, before he started walking up the stairs. She watched him leave, before she turned to the task ahead. Despite being a somewhat poor excuse to stay behind, she would actually risk a read of some of the scrolls. With a somewhat strange feeling in her gut she sat down on the cold stone seat and opened the bag.

She picked the scroll by coincidence, nothing about it differentiated it from the rest. Just a choice made without much thinking. A report about the events of Leyndell, right after the Shattering. And at first the contents of this piece of parchment were just as meaningless as those of the first scroll. That was, until she reached about the last third of it.

Her eye widened and she shook her head in disbelieve. That was impossible! Absolutely impossible! Ranni almost ripped the parchment asunder, as she jumped up from her sitting position. The person who had done the report, ended it with one simple observation, written in a shaky hand. A sentence, that made her question many things. Not only about the god-queen, but also herself.

Radagon is Marika.

All the information gathered in the report, all the evidence... it made sense. It was logical. The demigod had always been incapable of refusing cold logic, but right now she wished for nothing more. To be able to ignore this revelation and all the implications of it. Who was her father?!

She was ripped out of her spiraling thoughts, when the loud clang of clashing weapons demanded her attention. The sound originated from the base of the Erdtree. Grateful to occupy herself with other things than the dubious identity of her father, she was quick to start climbing the stairs. What was it this time her dear consort had gotten himself into?

Chapter Text

“If thou wert to agree with it, I would prefer to remain here... I will study the scrolls in the meantime.” Ranni gave him a small, almost apologetic smile. Constantine had watched her relatively attentively ever since they stepped foot into the ashen remains of the capital. He had seen the occasional shadow flicker across her features. Of course she would be reminded of long past days. Days that probably weren't happy.

A part of him wanted her to tell him about those days, desperate for any snipped he could get about the world before the Shattering. But that would mean torturing her by having to recall all those things she gladly had left behind.

Smiling softly at her, he bowed his head and left the chamber to approach the Erdtree. A few days ago he might've felt worried for leaving his wife behind, all by herself. After witnessing that she was more than capable of defending herself, he was far more at ease. It had been ridiculous to doubt her strength in the first place. She was a demigod, most of them being famed for being the strongest of the strong. Her small stature and most times mild temper betrayed the power bubbling underneath.

Constantine climbed the last steps to enter the yard on the foot of the Erdtree. Truthfully, his offer for Ranni to not go with him had been a little selfish. He wanted to have a moment for himself, to say a final goodbye to Melina. It had been here, they had started the final stretch of their long journey together. It felt right to finally let go of his grieve here.

His plans were – like so often – derailed, when he saw the hulking person crouching in the yard, the back turned to him. Constantine knew who this was. Memory of the past or not, everyone in the Lands Between knew this man. Godfrey, first Elden Lord and the first Tarnished.

The ghostly apparition of Serosh that was clinging to his back turned its head slightly, when it heard the newcomer approach. The roar the beast gave off made the fine hairs on the nape of his neck stand on edge and Constantine was quick to draw his sword. Godfrey, apparently rather unbothered, seemed to hold something in his arms, though Constantine couldn't make out what it was.

The former king said something, it wasn't directed towards him but rather the thing he held in his arms. Then he sighed, straightening up a little. His voice was deep and rumbling, hoarse from shouting commands and roaring in fierce lust for battle. “Long and hard didst thou fight. Tarnished warrior. Spurned by the Grace of Gold.” He now rose from his crouching position, revealing just how tall he really was. “Be assured, the Elden Ring resteth close at hand.”

Godfrey grabbed for the handle of his battle axe and finally turned around to face the contender for the throne. The armor of the first Elden Lord was a strange mixture of royal elegance with it's intricately hammered metal, with fur and rough leather giving it a crude touch. “Alas, I am returned. To be granted audience once more.”

Serosh roared once more, this time much more fierce and powerful. Almost as if punctuating the call of his companion, the former king let one foot crash to the ground with frightening force. “Upon my name as Godfrey, the first Elden Lord.”

Despite the truthfully intimidating nature of his foe, Constantine couldn't help but feel excited about the approaching fight. It was one thing to fight strong enemies, but a completely different experience to fight legends. So trying to match the regal air of his opponent, he raised the Dark Moon Greatsword in a warrior's greeting. With a grin plastered on his face, he called out: “Let it be Constantine, Lord of Night, that brings the great Godfrey to his knees.”

A similarly grim smile appeared on the tall man's lips, and his fingers twitched in joyous anticipation for the approaching battle. Then he jumped into the air, the height he reached almost ridiculous. Mid air he threw his axe. Constantine rolled to the side, evading the attack easily.

Ash was whirled up in a cloud, as the first Elden Lord crashed into the ground and in one fast motion used his momentum to let his axe twirl around and hit right to were his opponent was standing. Fearless and confident in is strength, the Lord of Night raised his sword to fend off the strike, supporting the lower half of the blade with his other arm. The hit scratched over the metal and made him stumble back a step, but he managed to keep his balance and immediately open up from his defense.

His greatsword left a deep gash on the thigh of Godfrey, but the man was unmoved by it. With a roar he let his foot come down in a mighty stomp, that quite literally shook the ground. Constantine barely managed to stay on his feet, using his weapon to balance himself. With the muscles on his arm bulging, the former king swung his axe, trying to use the short distraction to split his foe into two.

This time it was clear it would be impossible to block the hit, so he swiftly threw himself to the side. His landing was rather ungainly, thanks to the hasty nature of his movement he wasn't able to immediately roll back up from the ground. Godfrey was relentless, once more using the sheer mass of his body to build up momentum and easily swing his big weapon in a perfect arc. Forced to react, Constantine rolled over the ground and only by sheer luck managed to not get his arm cut off.

Having his opponent in this vulnerable position, the first Elden Lord held up his onslaught of attacks without mercy. The situation felt like someone was trying to squash a pesky bug and as much as Constantine hated this undignified dance of evading, there was no way for him to get back to his feet without receiving a hefty – no doubt fatal – blow.

Frustration build in his gut and with a shout of anger he kicked at the knee of the hulking man. He didn't expect to make so much as a dent in the poise of the man, but he was pleasantly surprised when the knee actually buckled to the side and disrupted the onslaught of attacks for long enough to get back to his two feet. The Dark Moon Greatsword firm in his hands, he jolted forward to ram it into the abdomen of the former king.

Godfrey redirected the hit in the last moment, using his bare hand to stop the blade from piercing him in the center. Blood ran over the blue sword, as it cut deep into the skin. Though being able to not get skewered completely, the edge of the blade still managed to sink into his side. Groaning in pain, he stumbled a few steps back, before going to one knee.

Constantine was breathing equally as heavy as his opponent. His lungs burning, he was grateful for this short break. In what appeared to be a mixture of both rage and frustration, Godfrey rammed his greataxe into the ground, anchoring it in the ornate stone tiles of the yard.

Serosh bared his teeth and leaned over the shoulder of the stunned Lord, the ghostly outline of the spirit materializing. Before the beast was able to fully detach from the back of his companion, he was stopped by a strong hand. “That will be all... Thou didst me good service, Serosh.” And with that Godfrey grabbed the lower jaw of the beast, brutally ripping it to the side.

Blood sprayed over the floor, as the former Elden Lord slowly freed himself from this creature he had accepted onto his body to still his lust for battle. Serosh growled, even scratched with his iron clad claws over the chestpiece of the armor. Screeching, the metal bent and as the last bit of the connection between man and beast gave way, the most ornate piece of armor fell to the ground. With one last howl Serosh disappeared, dissolving into ash that would mix in with the mountains produced by the burning Erdtree.

Godfrey exhaled heavily and rolled his shoulders, his torso now bare and covered in the blood of his companion. Scars upon scars were all over his skin, evidence of the countless battles he had fought. “I've given thee courtesy enough. Now I fight as Hoarah Loux! Warrior!”

Constantine expected him to pick his axe back up, but instead he stormed forward with bare hands. Only due to a quick sidestep did he evade the grip of the other Tarnished. His relieve only lasted seconds, as he received a brutal kick to the side. The Lord of Night was dazed for a moment, as he rolled over the ground. When he regained focus, he stopped his uncontrolled rolling with a hand to the ground, swiftly getting to his feet in a crouching position.

Hand tightening around the hilt of his sword, he tensed all the muscles in his legs and out of his crouching position sprinted forward. Loux roared, the volume of it enough to make his ears ring, but Constantine was undeterred. Jumping up in the last moment, he tried to ram his sword into his opponent's chest. But without a heavy weapon, he was much faster than the aspiring Elden Lord, easily plucking him out of the air.

A sound of pain escaped him, when he was thrown into the air, before being brutally smacked down into the ground. Constantine shouted breathlessly, as the air left his lungs upon impact. Staring up at the burning crown of the Erdtree, he saw Hoarah coming, the heel of one of his boots directed towards his head. He was almost too slow, saving his head by mere inches. When the boot made contact with the ground, there were splinters of stone flying everywhere.

Once again picking up his sword, he tried to maybe get another hit in and make the warrior slower to react. But before he had even nearly enough momentum to swing the Greatsword, he was once more kicked to the side. Ribs broke loudly and Constantine screamed. Coughing and groaning he got back up, holding his side. The sword made him too slow!

Baring his teeth in more a grimace than a smile, he sank the sword into the ground, leaving it standing upright. Fighting the first Elden Lord with bare hands... it was madness. But somehow he had the feeling it was the only way he could possibly hope for victory at this point. The adrenaline coursing through his veins heightened his senses... it felt exhilarating.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw movement at the entry to the yard. Ranni watched them, he wasn't able to tell for how long already. Her hands were folded around her catalyst, but she leaned against the archway. Ready to intervene if necessary, but obviously trusting in his skills to end this fight by himself. Judging by the small smile dancing around her lips, she enjoyed the spectacle.

Seeing her and the faith she put into him... it spurred the flames roaring in his chest only further. Victory became more than just a question of survival. He had to prove her that her faith wasn't misplaced, that he was worthy to be at her side.

He would not disappoint her.

Focusing on his battle again, he balled his fists. Loux was already charging at him, hands stretched out to grab him and slam him into the ground once more. Constantine evaded his hands, before punching his abdomen with all force he could muster. His knuckles crunched at the impact, the hit against the hard muscles similar to a punch against stone. Under normal circumstances, he doubted his attack would've earned him so much as a grunt.

But with his fist slamming right into the gaping wound in the side, he received the reaction he had hoped for. A pain filled shout and a short stumble, the Lord fell down to one knee as his body buckled for a second. Having him at the right height, the Lord of Night let his fist crash against him once more, this time the face. Teeth shattered and blood splattered to the ground.

Shaking out his aching fist, Constantine took a swing with his other hand. That punch broke the nose of the other man. Before he was able to punch again, he received a hit himself. It was like a dragon itself had decided to take a swing at him and he blacked out for a split second. Instinctively he raised his leg to kick his opponent. Hoarah let his hand shoot forward, grabbing his ankle and, with a groan of pain and exhaustion, threw the Tarnished away from him. When he landed on his broken ribs, it was now his turn to cry out in pain. Clutching his side, he writhed in agony and desperately tried to stay conscious.

Loux slowly got up, though his demeanor wasn't nearly as untouchable as it had been before. He leaned slightly to the right, blood flowing freely from his wound. Constantine forced himself up himself, his whole body aching from the exhaustion. A glimmer of blue to his right caught his attention.

The Dark Moon Greatsword did not begrudge him for his temporary abandonment, the hilt feeling pleasantly cold on his sore joints. He drew a deep breath, before charging at his opponent with a loud war cry. The first Tarnished tried to stop his momentum with a kick, but Constantine merely turned to the side without losing any of his momentum. Finally, after what felt like hours of fighting, he managed to completely bury his blade in the chest of Godfrey.

The man did not even flinch. Rather he laughed a gurgling laugh, as blood filled his mouth. “Brave Tarnished... Thy strength befits a crown.” He keeled over, like a felled tree. Dissolving into ashes, there was no body left behind.

Clattering the greatsword fell to the ground, as Constantine lost all strength to hold it and collapsed to the ground himself. His hands shaky, he took his flask of Crimson Tears and choked down a few gulps. Painfully slow his wounds healed. While waiting for the concoction to stitch him back up, he stared up to the crown of the Erdtree again, mesmerized by the red flames.

His view of it was blocked, when a familiar face came to view. Ranni looked at him in a mixture of worry and amusement. For a moment, contrasted against the flames, it almost looked like the spectral part of her face had flaming red locks. Still slightly delirious from his exhaustion, he grinned up to her. “How did I do?”

“Thy prowess in battle hath improved. Watching thee fight with such fierceness... twas exhilarating.” She chuckled slightly nervous. “Now come, my Lord. Thou canst rest later when we set up camp.”

With some effort he stood up, stretching his muscles and tendons. Tenderly he picked his sword back up from the ground, the reliable blade of course not even having a scratch. He caught Ranni's curious gaze and shrugged his shoulders. “Just making sure. I quite like this blade. Someone I love deeply gave it to me, you must know.”

She huffed and rolled her eye, but stretched one hand out for him to take. He gladly accepted her offer and as they approached the way to the Erdtree, she snuggled up to his side. Truth be told, the coolness her body gave off felt great against his still slightly aching ribs.

As they climbed the stairs leading up to the Erdtree, he couldn't hold back the relieved sigh upon seeing the thorns burned away. Melina's sacrifice wasn't in vain. At least that much solace was granted to him. Ranni was apparently thinking similarly to him, because she said: “So the entrance to the Erdtree is free. Splendid.” The gaze she threw towards the golden gate at the end of the small corridor was dark and foreboding. “My father wilt be awaiting us in there no doubt.”

“Marika as well, I think. Quite the prospect of a battle”, he sighed tiredly. There was a strange expression flitting over her face, but it was gone before he could really make out what it meant. “The Eternal wilt be there as well... indeed.”

“So, did you make up your mind on where we go first? To Mt. Gelmir or this Haligtree?” Constantine yawned and Ranni smiled softly at him. “First we leave this accursed place and find a place where thou canst rest.” Absentmindedly she let her eye wander over the yard behind them, obviously looking at the thrones. Some of them had been destroyed in the fights that had taken place here.

One of those still standing was the throne of Praetor Rykard. Her oldest brother, Lord of the Volcano Manor. “I want to visit my brother first. Mayhaps he can find reason in my words and surrendereth his Great Rune without quarrel.”

Knowing that Rykard had been a rather major player in the Shattering War, he was surprised by her optimism. It was quite unlikely, that the Praetor would give up his powerful Rune just because his sister asked for it. And he had seen the Volcano Manor and the surrounding lands... he felt Ranni had a wrong picture of her brother. But then again, maybe it was him that had a wrong impression. He never met the demigod, so there was a good chance he was a reasonable man and actually would listen to them.

“Then let us go to the Volcano Manor”, he said while starting his way down the stairs. His wife followed, muttering almost more to herself than to him: “I have information to share that wilt surely be of interest to him...”

“You didn't see him all those years?” He was curious. From what he had gathered, she had a pretty good relationship with her brother before the Shattering. Ranni hummed affirmatively. “I... After the Night of the Black Knives we were too occupied with our own ambitions. The years passed easily and... we somehow lost sight of each other. I hope he doth not begrudge me for mine absence.... He hath been a good brother to me.”

Constantine looked once more at the thrones of the demigods. As his eyes caught on the splintered remains of the tallest of them, he asked: “What about Radahn? What was he like?”

It was a question that had nothing to do with their current task at hand, so there was a chance she would refuse to answer this personal inquiry. However, the more time they spent with each other, the more easily she opened up to him. It was apparent that she was slowly losing some of her distrust towards him and his intentions. Allowing herself to let him into her life completely. “Radahn... he denounced the customs of house Caria at a relatively young age. Twas shortly after our father left for Leyndell, that he made way to Sellia.

His tendency of idolizing Godfrey and our father led him away from the moon.” Ranni huffed slightly condescendingly. “He had the brawn, but really lacked the brain in some aspects. Believing in totals. That people either are good or bad... His ideological thinking led him in a war against the stars themselves... to think he would be able to win, ha!”

He remembered his conversation with Sellen. That Radahn had halted the movement of the stars, based on a prophecy of a star that would bring forth destruction. It was still ridiculous to imagine a man contesting the stars.

Ranni continued: “With turning against the stars, he inadvertently turned against Caria. The moon and the stars build a union, that determineth fate as a whole. His actions would spell dire tidings for our house.” She sighed. “Rykard and I were appalled by his actions, ready to go to battle against the traitor... Of course our mother would not have that, calling us to reason. Thou'st met my mother... she hath the ability to quell unduly anger with ease.

We would never be close again after his betrayal, but...”, a tinge of sadness mixed into her indifferent demeanor, “he did not deserve the fate that befell him.”

“Do you think it was retaliation of the stars?” Constantine raised his eyebrows, but she shook her head firmly. “Nay. I told thee, our fate written in the cosmos is immutable and not manipulated by the stars, only conveyed to us by them. They art not vengeful and malicious. Twas my brother's own hubris and hunger for power, that would spell his doom in the end.”

He had to ask the question burning on his tongue: “Are you prepared to fight Rykard, if he turns against us?”

Ranni didn't answer immediately. Instead she walked up to a still standing throne, that was relatively small compared to most of the others. She looked lost in thought, as she let one hand glide over the aged wood. When she sat down on the throne, elegantly crossing her legs, she finally answered: “Should my brother choose the path of greed and turn against us... then we shall slay him. I sacrificed a many of people to reach this point, I will not back down because of personal quarrels. Because this is not about mine own sensibilities.”

Frowning slightly, Constantine sat down on the armrest of the throne and carefully caressed the nape of her neck with one hand. “Let's see how he reacts before we paint everything black.”

She sighed deeply, while leaning into his touch. “I feel especially thou shouldst understand the temptation of power the Great Runes pose. Had I not disposed of mine... Mayhaps thou wouldst not hold me so tenderly now, but rather face me in fierce battle.”

“I don't think so”, he murmured and put his hand underneath her chin, to make her face him. A small scoff escaped her and she raised an eyebrow. “How canst thou be so sure of it? We might've never met if it weren't for my detachment from my Rune.”

Humming softly, he leaned down and kissed her. “Because you said it yourself: our meeting was destined. And the stars do not alter fate on a whim.” He kissed her on the lips once more, feeling her smile. “You and I were meant to find one another.”

She suppressed a chuckle. “Thou hast quite the talent to always speak the right thing.” Once more she ran one hand over the wood of the throne she was sitting in, before sighing deeply. “I always hated those things. Symbols of some pretentious sense of importance. And they are horribly uncomfortable, especially when forced to listen to the Eternal hold her tiring monologues about the Greater Will. She would not stop for hours.”

Constantine stood up from his place on the armrest. “Have you been here often?”

“Thankfully no.” Ranni laughed joylessly. “The occasional summer I was forced to stay here. Unlike my brothers, they would not have me more often. Merely for my predisposition of being... slightly opposed to the ideals of the Golden Order.”

“Slightly?” He raised an eyebrow and she actually laughed that time. “Fine. I was absolutely insufferable. But really, who could begrudge me. Playing family with the woman that ripped my real family asunder? I think not!” She lowered her gaze. “If... if it even hath been a family and not just some convoluted ploy of the Greater Will.”

Her consort nodded understandingly, before he looked at the remaining thrones. It was obvious being here brought some unpleasant memories to the surface for her. He hated it so see her like that, tormented by the ghosts of her past. There had to be something to cheer her up.

A sly smile crept up his lips and he innocently asked: “So... You don't like these thrones?” Without looking up to him, she scoffed. “Nay. They-” Before she could finish her sentence, she was interrupted by the loud sound of splintering wood. Startled she looked up and saw Constantine slowly lower his sword after demolishing one of the thrones.

With an expression of mock shock, he held a hand in front of his mouth. “Oops, I must've stumbled. Clumsy me.” She raised an eyebrow, obviously looking through his effort of cheering her up. “Constantine...”

“Oh let's hope no breathtakingly beautiful demigod comes and uses her magic to destroy the other thrones!” Theatrical he gasped and propped himself against his sword. “Or let alone demonstrates the powers of that ridiculous sword she has.”

The Lord of Night grinned when he saw the smile tucking on her lips. His voice almost a purr, he said: “The suspense is killing me.” With an unwilling chuckle she got up and murmured: “I am no friend of senseless destruction... but... I feel an exception can be made.” In a fluid motion she drew her sword and before he could even ask, she fired a beam of concentrated magic at the throne once belonging to Rykard.

Constantine howled in excitement, as the chair basically exploded in a cloud of wooden chunks and splinters. Ranni laughed brightly, both at his reaction and the incredibly freeing feeling the destruction of those accursed thrones brought her. Kicking a still smoking piece of wood that had landed in front of her, she playfully said: “Oops.”

Bursting out laughing, he pointed at the next chair. “Now show me that fire thing!” She more than gladly obliged. They spent a few more minutes turning the ornate and massive chairs into nothing but splinters, both laughing and joking while doing so. At one point he only could hold his aching belly, his cheeks hurting from all the laughing.

After even the last halfway intact piece was pulverized, Ranni approached him, looking much more cheery. “O my Lord”, she whispered and put a hand to his cheek, gazing up at him full of adoration. “My wonderful Lord. How I wish our paths had crossed earlier.” Sinking into a deep kiss, they both held on to each other. Because even when they would lose all they knew at the end of their journey... they would at least have one another.

Chapter Text

There was the call of an owl far in the distance and Ranni lazily lowered her head, after gazing up to the stars for probably hours. Yes, this vessel really posed some advantages. Not being punished with a stiff and hurting neck after stretching it towards the sky for prolonged periods of time was one of them.

They set up camp right before the narrow bridge leading to the territory of Gelmir, protected by a big rock jutting out of the ground. It took her quite some sweet-talking to get her consort to finally agree to rest. The man would push himself to total exhaustion, if he had his way. Now he was laying across from her close to the small campfire, huddled up in his bedroll and sleeping soundly.

Torrent nudged her shoulder and she chuckled quietly, careful not to wake her husband. “Thou'st chosen quite the dogged companion, Torrent.” Ranni had been happy to see the spectral steed again. It had been so many years, since she last had seen him, his fate unknown to her. She wondered how the whistle to call him had ended up in Constantine's possession.

Miquella, Torrent's former master, had handed her that disheveled spirit calling bell on their last meeting. It had been right before he would retreat into that cocoon, in hopes to finally relieve himself of that curse he was born with. “Give that to Torrent's new master. Gods know they will need it”, he had said to her, which earned him a skeptical frown from his half-sister. He had laughed at her expression, bright like only the laugh of a child could be. “I would do it myself, but I fear I will be busy for the years to come. Do me that favor, dear sister.”

Ranni had often been rather cool towards the twins, but even she was easily swayed by the bright and big eyes of a child asking her for a favor in earnest. “Fine.” They would never see each other after that meeting, but she had heard tale. That Miquella was gone from the Haligtree, nowhere to be found. Ranni wondered, how Malenia was handling that... the two had been inseparable. Making the relationship of herself and Blaidd - who had been quite literally a part of her being – look superficial. The poor girl was probably in distress.

Her attention diverted from the starry sky, she instead watched Constantine sleep while absentmindedly scratching Torrent behind the ear. How his chest rose and fell evenly, how peaceful his features looked when unbothered by the waking world. His eyes moved underneath his closed eyelids. She wondered what he was dreaming about. Was it something nice?

There was a shift at one point, it was clear to see. His relaxed features tensed up and he started mumbling quietly. Now it was obvious he had a nightmare. Ranni felt bad for him and was almost tempted to wake him and relieve him from his plight, when he winced hard once and opened his eyes.

Bleary eyed he raised his head, still slightly disorientated. “Bad dream?”, she asked carefully and he rubbed his eyes with a yawn. Slowly sitting up, he sighed and nodded. “Mh-hm.” She didn't probe further, seeing how he grimly stared into the flickering light of the campfire was enough of an answer.

“There are yet a few hours remaining before the sun riseth. Thou shouldst try to sleep.” He only shook his head and fidgeted with a small stick he had picked up from the ground. “I prefer not to.” Once more she felt bad for him. The sour taste horrible nightmares left was all too familiar to her.

Slowly she stood up from where she was sitting and walked around the campfire to sit besides him. Constantine avoided her gaze and broke the stick in his hands. “It's pathetic. I am...” She pursed her lips. “Thou art not.” He only huffed, still not looking up. Ranni, unsure of what to do, wrung her hands. She remembered a book she had read as a young girl, a story of a loyal soldier and his undying love for a princess. It had been an absolutely mawkish piece of literature... and yet she had rather enjoyed it.

A scene out of the book came to her mind. When the soldier had returned home after years of fierce battle, burdened by the atrocities of war. And how the princess had him lay his head on her lap. “O my brave warrior, rest thy head. Share thy woes, for they are mine as well. Weep, and know that I will be shedding tears with thee. For I will be there with thee, in thy hours of light and thy hours of darkness.” Ranni couldn't bring herself to spout those kitschy words... but after all, this wasn't some predictable fairy-tale. The thought of him close was a pleasant one, though.

Clearing her throat with a feeling of awkwardness creeping up her spine, she patted her lap and almost whispered: “Rest thy head.” The look of sheer surprise he gave her made her chuckle. “Unless thou art opposed to the thought.”

Another moment of hesitation passed, before he took her up on her offer and carefully rested his head on her lap. Tenderly caressing over his hair, she returned his gaze while he looked up at her. The blush on his cheeks managed to lure a soft smile out of her. Basking in his adoring eyes, she said: “We can steel our body, to face the harshest of challenges. But our mind, while susceptible to training, easily betrayeth us in our moments of peace. I wish I could help thee. Ease that burden thou art no doubt shouldering... but alas, I cannot.” Another hand softly caressed his cheek. “I can, however, give thee companionship. Tis not much, but I experienced it can be quite soothing.”

Well great, she didn't recite the mawkish words from the book, but instead rambled her own – arguably even worse - version of it. She wanted to sink into the ground.

“Thank you, my Lady”, he whispered and Ranni shook her head. “Rest a little, Constantine. Tomorrow wilt be taxing, no doubt.” She raised her gaze towards the stars again, observing the familiar constellations. “I will wake thee once the time hath come to depart.”

While the Lunar Princess watched the stars in the night's sky, she didn't really notice how her husband wouldn't sleep for a long while. Instead he would use any moment he could keep himself awake to watch her. Absolutely and utterly entranced. Helplessly in love.

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It had been many years since Ranni last had been to the Volcano Manor. The massive building still stood amid fire and heat, unbothered by it. Its stone walls holding fast, both to the elements and the countless years that had passed. Though the Manor standing unchanged, the surrounding area was very much changed.

The foul smell of decay surrounded the desolate clifftops around the volcano, mixing with the already unpleasant smell of sulfur. Corpse upon corpse, stacked up in piles or strung up for show... the amount of blood that had been shed during the siege of Gelmir was unimaginable. The carnage all around the mountain managed to unsettle even her, and she wasn't thin-skinned in the slightest.

Judging by Constantine's expression, he wasn't unmoved by the bloodshed either. Though judging from the slightly greenish coloration of his face and occasional coughing, he was more affected by the foul odor. He appeared more than relieved when they finally reached the threshold of the Manor.

Ranni braced herself, as they stepped from the foyer into the small communal room. Meeting Tanith again would no doubt be awkward. They got along well enough before, she hoped that the foreign woman didn't hold any hard feelings for Ranni's silence the past centuries...

“Tarnished! You have returned! I knew you would come back, brave champion!” A girl greeted them – or rather Constantine – with a beaming smile. Even Ranni felt her back hurting when watching the hunched over posture of her. That had to be unhealthy... But there were far more pressing thoughts on her mind now. For example why that girl seemed to know Constantine.

Ranni looked at her consort with a raised eyebrow. Did she imagine this, or did he start sweating more than before? “Brave champion? My oh my, thou'st made thyself a name in these lands.” There was unconcealed mockery in her voice. “It appeareth thou hast conquered more than just Great Runes in thy travels. To think my consort is a womanizer...”

“I-I am not! Why... How... Ranni!” He huffed indignantly, his face beet red. Ranni was obviously aware that he wasn't the kind of man that would break the hearts of women to shoot his shot. That didn't stop her from saying: “No need to be coy, my dear.”

He gave her a pleading look. “Listen Ranni, I was only nice to her and now she thinks me some kind of hero. You have to help me get out of this”, he whispered desperately. His wife grinned menacingly. “Oh, I much rather watch this unfold. Tis quite amusing.”

“Ranni pl-”, before he could even complete his sentence, the girl grabbed him by the arm and pulled him forward. “Come, rest. And this time I won't take no for an answer!” Constantine looked back to his wife, his face screaming help me. The girl was blissfully ignorant to it. “Your new armor really suits you. You... hihi.. You look very handsome.”

A little flabbergasted by the whole interaction, she watched her consort getting pulled away. While she was admittedly amused by his clear distress in face of unwanted affection, she also felt she should look for him. So with a small smile she climbed up the stairs into a spacious room.

“It appears not only one familiar face decided to honor us with their visit today”, a familiar voice stated and Ranni was quickly distracted from her husband's plight. He would be fine, she was sure of it.

Tanith looked at her from her ornate chair, her legs casually crossed and one slender hand on the armrest. She still wore that mask, pure white porcelain with golden ornaments. Before the Shattering, it had been a custom under nobles to wear masks, to keep their pale skin from tanning. Of course, there were other reasons than vanity. Sickness, like in the case of house Marais. Or blasphemy, to shield oneself from the light of the Erdtree.

“Lady Tanith.” She bowed her head in a show of respect. “Tis good to see thee fairing well.”

Tanith leaned back in her chair. “I could say the same, Princess Ranni. My Lord told me about your plan, and yet I scarcely dared to believe that such feats could be possible. Once again I am astonished by what the demigods are capable of.”

“How is Rykard?” She hadn't seen her brother this whole time either. His involvement in the Shattering Wars had deterred her from seeking him out. Though she shouldn't have been surprised. The Carian prince had always been ambitious and eager to earn power. And he had been one of her main supporters to gain power over her own life back.

“The Lord resides in the heart of the manor, communing with the Great Serpent”, Tanith said with a smile audible. “Not too much time, and he will finally be able to take on the Greater Will, I am sure of that.”

“We require an audience with him. Dost thou think it possible?” Ranni sat down in one of the chairs and crossed her legs. Tanith remained silent for a few seconds, before hesitantly asking: “I saw the blade on his back, but I have to ask nonetheless. What is your relation with the Tarnished?”

“As thou hast deduced correctly; he is my consort. Constantine hath entered my service out of his own merits and stood ever faithful by my side since then.” She quickly shut her mouth, before she would embarrass herself by raving about her man. “I saw him a fitting choice as my consort.”

The lady of the Volcano Manor chuckled underneath her mask. “Ahh, I see. My congratulations on your union, then. May it be joyous and prosperous.” She sighed. “As for your request: I will make all necessary arrangements, though I ask of you to allow me some time. I will have a room fixed for you and your consort. Please stay the night and join us for dinner.”

Ranni wasn't really thrilled about that answer. She didn't plan on staying any longer than necessary and she didn't see why her brother would need any prior announcement to her arrival. Holding back her displeased thoughts, she bowed her head again. “I gladly accept thine invitation.”

“Rya! Please! I appreciate your kind gesture, but please give me some space!” A very distressed Constantine came hurrying down the corridor. He glared at Ranni. “You just left me...”

“And thou didst just fine. I had faith in thy skills, dear consort.” She smiled at him and he grumbled something incoherent, clearly moping. The girl, apparently her name was Rya, walked out of the corridor as well. Before she could cling to Constantine again, she was stopped by Tanith. “Rya, be a dear and prepare a room for our guests.”

“Just one?” The girl looked flustered and the proprietress nodded. The smile dropped from the girl's face and she stared towards Ranni, before her shoulders dropped even more – how that was anatomically possible was a riddle to everyone present. “Oh... Of course, Lady Tanith.”

The Tarnished gave a questioning look to Ranni and she sighed. “My bother requireth some time, until he can greet us. Until then, we will stay as guests.” She didn't miss the alarmed spark in his eyes and the quick glance he threw towards Tanith. It was obvious he was just as displeased as his wife, but just like her he bowed his head. “Fine, then.”

Tanith clapped once with her gloved hands, as she stood up from her chair and almost cheerily announced. “Ahh, it had been a fair while since we had guests join us for dinner. I will have something nice served to us. You wait here, while I inform the servants.” She walked off, leaving her guests with her intimidating bodyguard who stood motionless behind the chair.

Constantine glanced over to the knight, before he leaned closer to Ranni. “I don't like this one bit.”

“It displeaseth me too, but I am afraid tis the easiest way to get to Rykard. I know these grounds, they are like a maze of fire and dark rooms. If possible, I would prefer to avoid scurrying about like headless chicken.” She smiled up to her consort. “And I feel thou wouldst appreciate a hearty and filling meal and a full night's rest for once.”

He pursed his lips, still obviously displeased. “I just hope I will not get my throat slit in my sleep. Remember, those people kill Tarnished.”

In an effort to calm him, she caressed over his arm. “Worry not, my dear. I will guard thee and thy throat. Now allow thyself to feel a little bit of comfort.” She knew where his distrust stemmed from, she understood why he was so on edge. But she knew that Tanith would do them no harm, as long as they adhered to the rules of the manor.

With a heavy sigh he sat down besides her. “Maybe you are right... A proper meal does sound nice.” He hesitated and slowly asked: “But... will it be alright for you? I mean... you don't eat.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Quite the revelation thou art laying out for me. Tis not my first day in this body, Constantine.” He lowered his gaze. “Sorry... I didn't want to be rude.”

“Tis fine. Worry not about me.” Trying to take the uneasiness off him, she smiled slightly. Constantine sighed. “You know I can't do that.” Her smile brightened a little and she reached for his hand. She stopped in her motion, when Tanith returned. Seeing how her consort immediately tensed up again upon seeing the proprietress, Ranni pursed her lips.

Together with Tanith, a small man entered the room, his steps slow and quiet. His complexion was almost unhealthily pale and his eyes a piercing, almost yellow color with small pupils. He was obviously a servant of the house.

In perfect form he bowed before the two guests of the manor. “It will be a while before dinner is served. Would the Lord prefer a bath while waiting?” The servant folded his hands behind his back, his yellow eyes fixed on the Tarnished. Constantine looked slightly awkward and inconspicuously smelled himself. “Do I reek?”, he whispered towards Ranni and she barely managed to hold back a chuckle. His clumsiness in regards of the customs of nobility were endearing. “Nay. Tis an offer for refreshment, not an insult my dear.”

His features brightened. “You will be alright?” Knowing his compulsive urge for cleanliness, she had expected him to immediately accept the offer. And she welcomed the chance to have a word with Tanith in private. She trusted her consort, but he was evidently distrustful of the proprietress of the manor and Ranni preferred to have a conversation without the unpleasant tenseness. So she motioned him to go. “Go ahead.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, before he hurried after the servant. Ranni smiled softly and watched him leave. For the briefest of moments the rather unbecoming thought of joining him rose in her mind, but she quickly banished it.

“A curious one, this Tarnished”, Tanith mumbled. Ranni directed her gaze toward their host, immediately turning her attention away from any indecent thoughts. “Thou wouldst not expect me to choose just any man as my consort.”

At that the other woman huffed. “Of course not.” Towards her bodyguard, she said: “You are dismissed. I will require no protection.” The hulking knight remained standing still for a moment, but then merely bowed deeply and took his leave. The steps of his heavy boots were still audible for a while, but then there was silence again. Only the occasional crackling from the fire burning in the fireplace broke through it.

“I cannot deny that upon seeing the surrounding lands of the manor, I was quite appalled. What did transpire, Tanith? The streets art littered by putrid bodies, crows and mutts feasting on rotting bones... how canst thou endorse such disgrace?” Ranni met the golden eyes visible though the eyeholes of the mask. She didn't fear possibly insulting her, knowing her well enough to calculate which questions would be met with disdain and which with an answer.

“When the Eternal shattered the Elden Ring, there was havoc breaking loose. The battles left marks on the land. What you saw, was nothing different but some of those marks.” Tanith spoke without any emotion and Ranni scoffed. “Do not take me a fool. What I saw were not scars upon the land from a battle fought fiercely. Twas displays of cruelty. I felt reminded of the way Marika loved to display heretics. Nailed to a stake, left to bleed out.”

Tanith stood up from her chair, hands delicately folded before her chest and steps deliberate, as she walked towards the fireplace. “My Lord did what had been necessary to secure the safety of his goals and house.”

“So thou deemest barbaric violence as necessary?” The demigod raised an eyebrow. “Hunting down Tarnished, to keep them from reaching their goal?”

Now it was the lady of the house that scoffed. “Ranni, do not not pose as a saint. We both know you are not.” She sighed. “Neither are we. My Lord and I sacrificed a many innocent soul... and I for my part would always do it again. To see him where he is now... To see his future.”

The sound of that last sentence made Ranni suspicious and she narrowed her eye, now standing up herself. “What happened to my brother, Tanith?”

She stood with her back turned towards her, staring into the flames. “You will see tomorrow.” Finally turning around to her, the demigod saw the bright glimmer in her golden eyes, as she quietly said: “And you will understand what it is we fought for.” Tanith shook her head. “But let us not ruin the evening by hostilities over moralistic quarrels. I am sure there are many, far more joyous topics we can talk about.”

Ranni sat back down. She had a bad feeling about all of this, feeling the urge to just leave and let whatever dark mystery awaited them rest in the dark. But they needed the Great Rune. And there was also Constantine. No matter how much she would try to convince him to leave, he would never budge. Adding to that was her own curiosity. She needed to know what became of her big brother.

So despite every ounce of reason commanding her to leave this possibly dangerous situation behind, she instead folded her hands in her usual manner and smiled, confident that there was no situation she and her consort couldn't manage. “Then let us talk, dear Tanith.”

Chapter Text

The question of what came after life was a fundamental one. One every human thought about at some point in their life. For the longest time the Lands Between didn't have to worry about that thought, as death was locked away. But now, with the natural order of life and death restored, one could wonder again what would happen after life.

And Constantine was certain, if there was a hell, he was in it right now.

It all had started with his bath. After being out of earshot of the proprietress, the servant had dropped any pretense of politeness and kindness. Instead he had said: “You look like a filthy mutt, I cannot fathom how you are not ashamed. We need to cut your hair and beard. And you cannot sit there in your bloodstained armor at dinner. I will see that you get dressed proper.” Annoyed he clicked his tongue. “Oh really, you Tarnished lot are all strangers to basic maintenance of your own image.”

Offended Constantine had scoffed. “Excuse you?”

“Oh I am only speaking what everyone is thinking. That your Lady didn't throw you to the streets yet is detriment to a kind heart. Because in her position, I would've sent you to the gutter.” He turned into a small corridor and at the end of it opened a door, revealing the washroom. “If the Lord would please follow?”

It had been a rather small room, the air stuffy from the steaming water in the tub standing in the center. Without even asking for permission, the servant had started helping the Tarnished out of his armor. While slightly peeved, he had also been grateful for the assistance... getting out of it by himself would've been a pain.

“Will you be able to take care of yourself, or do you need me to scrub the filth off of you?”, the servant snarled after the last piece of armament had been removed and Constantine reacted with a curt. “Piss off.”

After the servant had left – not without shaking his head and mumbling something about “utterly disgraceful” - Constantine finally was able to enjoy the bath. Quickly slipping out of his undergarments, he didn't wait long to sink into the pleasantly warm water. And for a few minutes everything had been fine. Just him and the warm water, a sturdy scrub and a bar of soap. Heaven.

Just as he had left the tub to dry himself off, the servant had stormed in without even knocking, carrying some tools for shaving in one hand and clothes in the other. “Now you no longer look like you just crawled out of the Leyndell sewers, we can finally make some final adjustments to make you presentable. Sit down, I'll remove that unsightly beard from your face.”

Constantine remembered Ranni's words in regards to his beard, so he had shook his head. “Don't shave it off completely. Just a trim.” The servant gave him a raised eyebrow, but then just clicked his tongue and got to work. Admittedly, it made the Tarnished extremely uncomfortable to let someone this close to his throat with a razor

After a few more minutes of getting insulted about his appearance while getting his beard and hair cut, the servant finally seemed satisfied with the result. Constantine had tried to shoo the unpleasant man away when he wanted to finally dress himself in the new clothes, but of course it was expected of a Lord to have assistance when dressing. Self-sufficiency was apparently for peasants...

The clothes were actually rather nice. Both the breeches and tunic were of black cloth that felt incredibly soft on his skin. The only splashes of color came from the dark blue silk vest with it's intricate silver embroidery, and the also silver trimming of the high closing collar of the black tunic. When he had seen himself in the mirror, he had felt like he was actually looking at a noble lord and not just some Tarnished. A neatly trimmed beard, short hair and elegant clothes. He looked dignified.

At first he had been worried that he might sweat horribly in those clothes, but surprisingly he didn't. It made him wonder, if the materials were somewhat enchanted with magic. Were the servant not so unpleasant, he might've felt inclined to ask. Before they started their way back, the servant had said: “Leave your gear here. I will see to it that it gets cleaned properly. With all the blood and grime... Urgh.”

For a moment he had hesitated, before agreeing to at least have his armor properly cleaned. As good as the engravings and frills looked, they would be a nightmare to keep clean. Might as well take this opportunity. So he only took his sword, which resulted in a raised eyebrow from the servant. He ignored it.

Ranni and Tanith were talking, sitting on the table in front of the fireplace. Not wanting to interrupt them, Constantine quietly sat down besides his wife.

“-and managed to outlast the siege of the Golden Order followers. Truth be told, we survived by the skin of our teeth, but in the end Rykard was able to outwit those fools.” Tanith leaned back in her chair, hands folded over her lap. “They should have known that it is a bad idea to corner a serpent.” Her gaze went past Ranni. “I hope you were able to enjoy the short respite, Tarnished.”

Holding back the comments he wanted to make about the rude servant, he answered: “It was really nice to properly clean myself of the grime. Truth be told, a cold pond just doesn't hold the same comfort as a bathtub.” That earned him a chuckle from the proprietress. “Splendid.”

“Thou'st kept the beard, I see”, Ranni commented, a small smile in the corners of her mouth. He shrugged his shoulders. “You told me you like it. And I think I actually look pretty good with it.” Her features softened. “Indeed.” As she looked him up and down, the smile became more prominent. “My Lord of Night.”

He blushed and cleared his throat. Tanith, watching the whole scene with an amused spark in her eyes, sighed. “Ah, young love is such a sweet thing to behold.” That comment managed to lure an awkward expression out of Ranni, so he felt at least a little avenged.

Before things were able to get more uncomfortable, a floury of servants came and started putting multiple dishes on the table. Constantine felt his stomach rumble, as he smelled the food and when one of the servants put a plate down in front of him his mouth started watering. He hadn't noticed just how hungry he had been.

The plate was loaded with varying vegetables, thick slices of some kind of roasted meat and all smothered in a rich brown sauce. The smell wafting up to him was almost enough to make him forget all decorum and just dig in. Of course he held back.

Just as the servants started leaving, two other people joined them at the table. Rya, and an almost dainty man in some rather extravagant clothing. The look out of his dark brown eyes seemed sad and tormented. Constantine had met this man before, at the Roundtable Hold. Diallos Hoslow, another Tarnished that strayed from the path of Grace.

“I invited another honored guest of the manor to join us”, Tanith said and Diallos smiled meekly. “Well met. My name is Diallos, of house Hoslow.”

Ranni raided an eyebrow at that. “Hoslow... hmm.” She sighed quietly. “The more the merrier, I guess.” Constantine saw the slightly puzzled look of his wife, when Rya sat down at the table and he himself wondered why she was here. He didn't mind, but it was strange that a servant would join them.

Tanith, apparently catching on to their bewilderment, clarified: “You have met my daughter Rya before.”

Now Ranni's puzzled look was exchanged for one of sheer disbelieve. “Daughter?” Constantine was equally surprised, though he held back on any reaction. Rather he watched, slightly amused by the shock radiating from his partner. Seeing her out of countenance like that was a little funny, he had to admit.

“I am not related to Lady Tanith by blood. When I was little, she found me and took me in, raising me as her own.” Rya's voice was full of adoration. “I will be forever grateful for her kindness.”

The golden eyes of the proprietress grew soft. “O sweet child.” Clearing her throat, she raised her hands. “Now, dear guests, please enjoy the meal before it grows cold.” Just as she was about to take off her mask to eat, the rude servant came hurrying in the room and leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Her eyes sparked and she immediately rose from her seat. “I am terribly sorry, but I have to excuse myself. Please, enjoy the dinner no less.” Towards Ranni and Constantine, she said: “A servant will show you to your quarters after dinner. We will see us in the morrow.”

And without so much as waiting for any response she strode away, her steps almost hasty. A bad feeling rose in Constantine's stomach and he felt himself grow increasingly distrustful towards Tanith. She was hiding something and he just knew that it would spell trouble for them.

When looking at Ranni, he noticed the skeptical expression she wore. Upon seeing his questioning look, she said in a hushed tone: “Tis strange my brother doth not join us... I cannot shake the feeling that something is amiss. And that Tanith is hiding it from us.” Her gaze fell onto his plate and she sighed. “But eat. Do not let me keep thee from it.”

“You really will be alright?” He leaned slightly towards her, to reach for her hand. She chuckled quietly and took his hand. “I will.” The ear-piercing sound of cutlery scraping over a plate made him squirm and divert his attention from his wife. Rya smiled an apologetic smile, that somehow didn't seem very genuine. “Oh, I'm so clumsy. Please excuse me.”

While Constantine merely smiled temperately, she received a slightly disapproving frown from Ranni. Unbothered by it, Rya almost trilled: “So, I bet with two adventurous Tarnished there surely is no lack of thrilling tales. Please, Sir Hoslow, tell us about some of the no doubt exciting adventures you have lived through.”

The Tarnished looked to the side, seeming ashamed. “Truth be told... There are not many adventures I can tell about. Despite my name and the legacy of my family... I am pathetically soft.” He pushed a single pea from one side of his plate to the other, just to avoid eye contact with anyone at the table. Rya didn't even really hide her opinion of that revelation, looking openly disappointed. “Ah, I see. How... quaint.” As if a switch had been flipped, her expression changed from bored to beaming excitement when she looked at Constantine. “What about you, brave champion?”

Constantine, who had just shoved a fork full of food into his mouth, looked at her with puffed cheeks. “Mwhat?” Chewing the contents of his mouth quickly, he cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders. “What do you want to hear about?” Being aware that he wasn't acting very becoming right now, he tried to straighten up and at least give off the appearance of a Lord... and not like a goblin greedily chowing down on the first proper meal he had in days.

“How about the tale of how you outwitted that despicable Tarnished that robbed me?” Her eyes sparkled. “You never told me exactly what did transpire.”

“Well, it isn't really a noteworthy story.” Wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin, he chuckled. “There are many more exciting things that happened to me.” Truth be told, he didn't want to brag about his journey, but rather eat. Especially, when he saw the downtrodden expression of Hoslow. That poor pea was barely holding together by now from the pressure of the fork.

Glancing to his right, he saw Ranni looking indifferent at first sight, but she was basically clenching her lower set of hands underneath the table and her reflected face wore an expression of obvious discomfort. At least he wasn't the only one finding this situation unbearably awkward. Clearing his throat again, he said: “So Diallos, what have you been up to since leaving the Roundtable? Last I remember, you were searching for that girl. Lanya, if I remember correctly.”

Diallos pressed his lips together. “She's dead. Murdered by a Recusant.” Finally ending the existence of the pea by mushing it with his fork, he pressed out: “And instead of following the creed of my house, I rather join the ones responsible for her death.”

Constantine raised an eyebrow. “So why are you still here?” He didn't really understand the quarrel of the man. Sure, leaping into uncertainty was always frightening, but he found the thought of complacent passiveness unbearable. And for what, just to stand with a faction who's ideals weren't even close to ones own convictions? Though, he also saw how incredibly lucky he was for having been shown a path that aligned with his beliefs. To have found Ranni.

Sensing his underlying contempt, the other Tarnished quickly lowered his eyes to his plate. “I... I guess I have nowhere else to go. Claiming the title of Elden Lord is out of the question. Ah, I am unworthy of the name Hoslow. I cannot achieve anything... Juno was right.” Diallos sighed deeply and Constantine shook his head. “Now don't say that. I am sure... oh you... you really don't need to cry...” The Tarnished started sobbing, and the Lord of Night almost would've been impressed by the sheer drama of it, were it not so unbearably awkward.

Rya stood up from her seat and patted the back of the sobbing man. “Now, now.”

As inconspicuous as he could, Constantine leaned over to his wife. “You still have one of those destined death daggers?” Ranni snorted and nudged him in his side. “Constantine! Behave!” A lot more quiet she added: “And no... Sadly I do not.”

“Oh no... you two think me pathetic, don't you?” Sobbing uncontrollably, Hoslow buried his face in his hands. Raising his eyebrows with an exhausted expression, Constantine downed his glass of wine in a few gulps.

“Not everyone is cut out to lead the life you are, it appears”, Rya mumbled and even more quietly added: “Which only shows once more how remarkable you are.” Ranni clicked her tongue in annoyance and almost glared at the girl, obviously fed up with the constant flattery from her towards her husband.

Constantine felt more awkward by the second, wishing to finally be done with this ridiculous evening. Clearing his throat, he adjusted the collar of his tunic, feeling like it was closing around his neck. He wished for his armor... at least then he would be able to just run away. Rykard and his fucking Great Rune be damned.

To direct his mind elsewhere, he decided to continue eating. The food that previously had tasted like heaven now felt bland. Maybe he felt like that because of the sobbing noble and the two women staring daggers at each other sitting with him at the table. He never thought that silence could be that loud...

Trying to break through the awkward silence, he cleared his throat in an exaggerated manner.

Rya frowned worried. “Are you well, noble champion?”

The cold seeping from his right intensified and he wanted to cry himself. “Y-yes... Thanks for asking.” Shoving one last fork of food into his mouth, he hastily said: “It is getting late. If you don't mind, I would like to see our quarters for the night.”

“Really? I was hoping we could talk a little longer.”

“No”, Ranni and Constantine answered in unison. While obviously disappointed, the girl nodded and motioned for a servant. “I will stay here...” Sighing once after having her gaze jump between him and his wife, she added: “Rest well.”

It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, when they finally were able to leave this horribly awkward situation. The servant – it was the same rude guy that had insulted him before – said towards the guests: “If you please follow me?”

They were led down a few corridors, through multiple heavy wooden doors, until they reached a corridor that was littered with windows to one side that allowed a look to the pool of magma in the center court of the manor. Constantine looked a little unsettled. “And the walls withstand the heat?”

“Rykard hath always been fond of the magics related to fire and heat. He found a way to enchant the stone in a way that maketh them resistant to melting.” Ranni explained, holding back a sharp comment about how her brother also was an insufferable know-it-all when it came to his discipline.

“And the two of you got along?” When she gave him a questioning look, he chuckled. “Well, you with your ice magic and he with his fire magic... you can't tell me there weren't any clashes.”

“We had the occasional argument...” She chuckled. “Thou wilt see why, when we meet him tomorrow. He can be insufferable.” There was undeniable warmth in her voice and he could tell she was actually looking forward to seeing her brother again.

The servant came to a halt in front one of the doors on the left of the corridor. “Here are your quarters for the night. Should you require anything, just call for personnel. There will be someone waking you tomorrow, to bring breakfast. Have a good rest.” With that he left the guests of the manor to their own merits.

As soon as the servant was out of earshot, Constantine exhaled loudly. “Gods this was awful.”

Ranni, opening the door to their quarters, hummed in agreement. “Agonizingly so.” He followed her into the room. It wasn't absurdly big, the interior was completed by a bed, a small desk with two chairs and a small closet. The window was covered by heavy curtains, but he doubted there was a worthwhile view hiding behind them anyways.

He watched Ranni, who absentmindedly let one hand glide over the surface of the desk, a look of reminiscence on her face. Like so often, he wondered what she was thinking about. Was this place bringing back memories?

--------------------------------------

It truly felt strange to be back here. How many years had pass since she last set foot in this room? So many things had changed since then, it felt like it had been in another life. And yet standing in this room again, reminiscing about past days brought a small smile to her face. She had almost expected that Tanith would give them this room.

She always disliked the unbearable warmth that was omnipresent in the manor – no wonder, it was located in an active volcano after all. In her current body she didn't feel it as much as she had in the body she had been born in. And Rykard had refused to tell her his secret to how he managed not to melt in the heat, despite his heavy robes. Spiteful bastard.

In her days as the Lunar Princess, she was frequently here. At younger years it had been to escape the suffocating expectations and responsibilities laid upon her as heir of Caria, be it just for a few days. Later, she had visited to sit with her brother in his dark study, scheming and conspiring the Night of Black Knifes.

And now... Ranni chuckled, when her consort immediately dropped onto the bed after leaning his sword against the table, face first in the crisp white sheets. “I haven't slept in a bed in... I can't remember.” His voice was muffled, because he was talking into the mattress. “This is so comfortable... is this how it feels to be a noble?”

Still smiling, she walked towards the desk. She took off her hat and fur coat, hanging it over one of the chairs. Though her body was incapable of sweating, she still felt weird for wearing this much amid a volcano. “A nobleman would probably not lay face first in the sheets.” He hummed, before he turned his head to look at her. “I don't think I can ever get up from here. Can't you just roll me over when I start to look like I'm suffocating?”

When she merely raised an eyebrow in answer, he sighed into the mattress. With a sound of exhaustion he turned himself on his back and for a moment she actually felt bad for him. The poor man had been sleeping on hard ground ever since he awoke as Tarnished. He really earned a night in a halfway comfortable bed for once.

Sitting down on the bed, she lost herself in thought. Thinking about their next steps. Convincing Rykard to give up his Great Rune would be difficult enough. But what really worried her was his obsession with the great serpent. He had already started to commune with it, back when she still had a body of flesh. The influence the serpent had on him was already visible all those years ago, she couldn't imagine how it had changed him after all this time.

Ranni leaned against the headrest of the bed and sighed deeply. Something told her that they wouldn't leave the manor without conflict. She knew that she would have to bury another brother of hers. Her annoying big brother, that had always teased her for his own amusement. But who had also supported her no matter what.

“What's wrong?” Constantine, obviously watching her and sensing that she was mulling, sat up and cocked his head. She shook her head. “Nothing, darling.” The endearment immediately brought a wide smile to his face and he scooted up to her, first sitting against the headpiece just like her, before he let himself drop to the side and rested his head on her lap. It surprised her and for a second she didn't know what to do, but then she sighed amused and caressed over his head. “Thou art quite bold.”

He hummed. “I just can't help it.” A little more mischievous he added: “Also, you're so pleasantly cool... it is a lifesaver in this heat.” She laughed at that and put a hand on his forehead. “I rather not have thee sweat through the sheets, while we share a bed.”

There was something he wanted to say, it was clearly visible, but he bit his tongue. Instead he closed his eyes, folded his hands over his chest and sighed content. “You know, despite how horribly awkward that dinner was, I could get used to this. Freshly bathed, a comfortable place to sleep and a beautiful woman in my bed. Oh what more can a man desire?”

“Thine aspirations are quite humble, Constantine.”

“Humble? Have you seen the woman in my bed? I'm a blessed man”, he grinned and opened one eye to peer at her. She raised an eyebrow and caressed over his hair again. The fact she didn't feel it caused a new spike of annoyance to shoot up her spine. Not even this most simple thing was granted to her. Bitterly she huffed: “Or thou'rt cursed. To have a cold and dead thing in thy bed.”

He looked up to her and carefully asked: “Is everything alright? Did I do something wrong?”

She clicked her tongue. Of course he would put the blame on himself. “Nay. Tis...” Ranni felt awkward addressing her feelings this openly, but she knew she could trust Constantine to not use them against her. “This vessel hath served me well for many years. But ever since I am with thee... I find it more and more lacking. Unsubstantial things, that should not bother me so.”

“For example?” There was this spark of curiosity in his eyes and she felt coaxed into sharing with him. “I want to feel thy hair.” Her hand combed through his hair, though she felt naught of it. “To feel thy fingertips caress over my skin... tis all lost to me.”

His expression grew soft and he reached up, to caress over her cheek and she leaned into the touch. She felt him... but she knew that it was not nearly as intense as it should be. A cheap imitation of the real thing. Constantine sat up and turned towards her. “What do you feel? I don't mean to be insensitive, so please tell me off if I should cross a boundary... But how does you body work?”

It was an understandable question, yet it made her uncomfortable nonetheless. This level of intimacy was still new to her and she found it hard to completely open up. “Tis complicated, I doubt thou wouldst understand. The intricacies of the magic at work... even I struggle at times to understand.”

She saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes, before he nodded and let himself fall back on the bed. Staring up at the ceiling, he quietly asked: “If you allow me... I have an idea how I could understand your scope of feel better. But only if you allow me.” Intrigued she looked at him, waiting for him to explain, but he merely looked at her in expectation. A question of trust?

She felt inclined to allow him his request. It was a mixture of curiosity and longing that made her say: “I trust thine intentions are of good nature.” With a small smile he sat back up and carefully took one of her hands, all the while not breaking eye contact with her.

His fingertips tenderly caressed over the palm of her hand. “How does that feel to you?” Ah, so this was his little experiment. Ranni grinned, when she realized and decided to humor him. His question made her hesitate, before she truthfully answered: “I barely feel it at all.” He hummed in thought, before leaning forward until his nose touched hers. “Would you close your eyes for me?”

His proximity intimidated her a little, but when his hand caressed over the nape of her neck, she relaxed. She closed her eye and waited in anticipation of his next move. A hand lifted her chin just a little, before he kissed her passionately. It was the first time he kissed her in such a manner, and she had to admit that it had an effect on her. A strange feeling of warmth, spreading throughout her whole body.

When he pulled back from the kiss, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you feel that?”, he inquired carefully and she nodded. “Yes.” She still kept her eyes shut, just focusing on the touches she received from him. Apparently satisfied with that answer, he kissed her again, this time on the neck. “And that?” His warm breath on her skin made her head twirl. “Yes”, she answered again, this time a little more quiet.

His lips slowly wandered to her clavicles, softly kissing her over and over. “And this?” His voice was a low rumble and the feeling of heat rose. Now she merely nodded and hesitantly opened her eye. When his fingers carefully loosened the laces of her dress, she watched him with growing excitement. It was obvious what he was intending to do and doubt filled her for a second. She couldn't give him what he probably desired.

Were she rational in this moment, then she would stop him from progressing. But she was curious... what would happen next? Slowly, leaving her room to interject, he opened her dress. To her own surprise, she didn't stop him. Instead she relished in the looks he was giving her, as he pulled her dress down. It didn't take long before he had completely undressed her, his eyes practically glued to her form, as he disregarded the dress.

He continued his kisses all over her body, occasionally asking: “Do you feel that?” His question earned him either a wistful sigh or an agreeing hum. Some of the places his lips wandered... were she capable of it, she would blush hard. It was odd... her sense of touch was impaired, most times she didn't feel anything. This though... she felt every bit of it. The soft kisses, tender touches and all encompassing warmth of it all. Ranni felt lightheaded and found it hard to form coherent thoughts, especially when he let one hand wander from her neck down to the inside of her thigh.

One thought managed to fight its way through her hazed mind. “Dost thou desire me?” The sound of her own voice surprised her, deep and trembling as it was. Did his touch really have such an effect on her? Constantine smiled with a dreamy expression and let his hand wander back from her thigh up to her chest. “Yes, I do so very much.”

Upon hearing his answer, she got swept up in a moment of unabashed desire and straddled him. Just as he had done with her, she took her time with undressing him. Of course there was no objection from him when she reached for the hem of his tunic, helping him to get out of it. His chest uncovered, she marveled at his muscles, letting two of her hands caress over his pecs.

“Constantine...”, she sighed and pulled him into an intense kiss. In one fast motion he was on top of her. Now, this close to him, it was impossible for her to doubt that he wanted her. Ranni tried to sort her thoughts, difficult as it was. “My form is so disheveled, and yet thou claimest it desirable.”

Showering her neck in heated kisses, he chuckled. “Of course I do. I love you so deeply, how could I not find every inch of you beautiful?” His breath was fast and trembling.

Ranni, still at a loss on how things could've escalated so far, was unsure on what to do. There were a few crude images coming to her mind, though she almost felt ashamed for merely thinking those things. Then again, he was her husband... it wasn't improper to want this, right? And the feeling of warmth all around her... it was exhilarating, only spurring the thoughts occupying her mind.

The consummation of their marriage was not something she had wasted much thought on. There were just so many other, far more pressing things on her mind so far. It wasn't surprising, that planning out a completely new age took precedence over thoughts about sex. Then there was also the physical hurdle her body posed. Even if she were confident enough to act on those desires she harbored in this moment, her body was ill equipped for it.

Letting her hand caress over his chest once more, she finally found the strength to stop him. Ah, it was really just her luck, to be so receptive to his touch and yet be once again unable to properly vent the feelings inside of her. Was it really arousal, or just some longing of her mind to be able to feel such things again? A quiet and slightly frustrated sigh escaped her and she closed her eye. Oh how she wished for her old body back in this moment... things would be very different now.

Softly she murmured: “I cannot give thee the warmth thou art yearning for now. We cannot love each other in this way... as much as I wish for it. This vessel... twas not created with it in mind.” When she met his eyes, they were dark with desire and excitement. She felt guilty for letting things escalate to this point. “I am sorry...”

“Ranni”, he said, swallowing hard and obviously struggling to calm his mind. “Ranni, never apologize for this. I feel dazed merely from being this close to you. However... I should have held back, knowing that we cannot lay with one another. I did not intend to make you feel uncomfortable with my vulgar approach.” Constantine quickly pulled his weight from her, laying down besides her again. She frowned ever so slightly, as she immediately missed his warmth. They couldn't sleep with each other, but that didn't mean she wasn't longing for his touch.

Looking into his eyes, she took his hand again and lead it back to her body. “Wouldst thou mind just holding me? I want to feel thy body close to mine.” Speaking those desires out loud felt strange, a feeling of both shame and also excitement filling her. “You are so cute...” When he chuckled and pulled her closer to him, she felt the heat rise all over. His skin flush against hers sent her head reeling again, utterly overwhelmed by the sensations.

“Oh hush.” She rested her head on his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat. And while she enjoyed this, she also couldn't stop the doubts that were spoiling all of it. “I... Constantine... Tis still plenty of time to rethink thy resolve to follow me.”

“What are you saying?” He sounded genuinely puzzled and she smiled without joy. “Thou art not subtle with thy conviction that I am no less desirable, despite my vessel. But... the truth remeineth, that I am a cold spirit bound to a doll. Ne'er will I share warmth with thee. Ne'er truly feel thee... tis only ever going to be an imitation.” Raising her head from his chest, she faced him. “I do not want thee to one day wake and regret leaving behind all, just to be with a dead and cold witch.”

“Why...” The frown he wore was deep and he obviously was searching for the right words to say. Sitting up, he shook his head. “I really don't know what else I can do to show you how much I love you. Why do you still doubt me?”

Now sitting up straight herself, she stared down at her hands. “I just cannot fathom why one like thee would cling to one like me. What canst thou gain by staying?” Of course, she knew that if she would ascend to godhood he himself would become a god by staying with her. But she knew that wasn't the reason. Despite her doubts, she knew him well enough to determine that.

He pursed his lips and raise an eyebrow. “Isn't that obvious?” In a poised motion he reached for her, pulling her back into his embrace. Softly, almost whispering, he said: “I have you. Your friendship. Your wise counsel. Your incredible wit. Your crackling temperament. Your soft caresses. Your love.“ His body rumbled when he chuckled. “And I fought hard for it. So don't you dare even think I will ever grow tired of it.”

Ranni closed her eye as shivers ran down her spine with each of his words. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve his love. She didn't deserve his warmth he was sharing with her so willingly. But she knew that he could not be convinced to think that way. He truly and uncompromisingly loved her, and she... “I love you, Constantine.”

His breath hitched once more and he sounded incredibly happy, when he answered: “I love you too, Ranni. So, so much.” He burrowed his face in her hair. “I always will. No matter what.”

The uncertainty of their future was still weighing heavy on her, but as she silently listened how his heartbeat slowly calmed down, she decided that for the time being, it would be alright to just enjoy this. For once she didn't want to worry about the future. And with that admission to herself, she felt completely at ease.

In combination with the happenings of the past days, she felt... tired. Usually, that feeling only ever came when she was on the precipice of total exhaustion, never allowing herself to sleep unless it was absolutely unavoidable. Which resulted in the long periods she was knocked out due to her spirit being drained from any and all energy.

Held in his arms, she felt save enough to consider sleep before it overwhelmed her after often weeks without it. “Constantine... wouldst thou mind if I were to rest a while?”

His arms tightened around her. “Of course not.”

“And that despite my promise of keeping thy throat save from any possible attacks?”, she joked and he snorted amused, before kissing her on the head. “Sleep well, my love.” Accompanied by the calming sound of his beating heart, she drifted off into sleep. For the first time in so many years there were no nightmares tormenting her.

Chapter Text

He was strange. A tall man, almost lanky with how slim he was. There were other things that made him stick out more, though. Flaming red hair, and a patchy beard that matched the color. Amid the people of this land, he almost seemed like a bright burning torch in the dark. He managed to part crowds, that foreign noble that was the talk of the whole city.

But Iliana first noticed his eyes. Those piercing golden eyes, that seemed to look right into her soul.

Her mother had always prophesied her a future outside the coastal town they were living in. The woman, a fish monger all of her life, dreamed of a big life for her only child. And Iliana, always despising the smell of rotting fish guts in the summer sun, was all too eager to see that prophecy fulfilled. So she left the small town, left her mother, to move to the capital and build herself a life in the glamour of the rich.

Her lofty expectation were quickly crushed under the merciless boot of reality. Instead of wealth and fame, all she had been able to acquire in those past five years in the big city were an insignificant job as a dancer in one of the more noble establishments of the capital and a shabby small room, barely enough for a bed and a vanity. It was unbearably hot in the summer, and freezing cold in the winter. She hated it.

But there was no turning back. Not if it meant for her to live and die in obscurity in some godforsaken village.

The evening that would change her life forever had been as inconspicuous as the rest of her existence so far. No big fanfare. Just an evening like so many, putting up a show for some noblemen that visited the capital. Though, the men visiting this evening were somewhat special. The scion of a royal house from far away and his entourage. A real prince... It was rare that the people of the Lands Between left their divine home.

The show of her troupe was routine. Fast steps, elegant twirls and motions so familiar Iliana would never be able to forget them. All underlined by the characteristic clacking of the castanets, giving each of their steps a rhythm and magnified the energy behind their motions. Those were the few moments in her life she truly felt free. Forgotten her past covered in fish guts. The insignificance of her life. The cold and oppressive room she would return to this evening. Just her and the music, joined in a pure and passionate dance. Usually, those were the moments that kept her going and she wouldn't even notice the audience.

Usually.

But those golden eyes soon were all she could see. All she could think about. It didn't disturb her rhythm, rather holding her in a trance. A few times during her performance their eyes met full on and she couldn't help but shudder. His gaze wasn't of profane nature, but full of fascination. None of her comrades in the troupe of dancers earned his gaze. Only her.

At some point the man leaned over to the owner of the establishment, murmuring something without averting his gaze from her. The owner, a fat and greedy toad of a man, laughed and gesticulated while telling the prince something. Over the music, she couldn't hear, but by the way he looked at her, she knew it was about her.

By the time they finished their show, she felt frozen to the core. Something about this man... her instincts told her to run. Like a rodent, fleeing from a snake. Appropriately fast were her steps, when she left the stage. She would quickly change into her regular clothes, leave, return to her quarters and forget about this evening.

As she hastily clambered together her belongings, she couldn't shake the cold coursing through her. Why was she this panicked? He was just some noble, watching her put up a show. In no way was he special. Nor had he done anything to warrant her reaction. However... somehow she knew nothing good could come from this man.

Her heart dropped, when she saw him standing just outside the side entrance that was reserved for staff. With the way he stood all by himself and the slightly forlorn expression on his face, he almost seemed like a shy boy. Then he saw her and his features lit up. Those golden eyes, fixed on her. Had he been waiting for her? Iliana bit back the many curses burning on her tongue. This was probably arranged by her manager... bastard, taking her for a whore...

"I hope the show was to your liking, my Lord." Her tone was cold, immediately creating as much distance as possible. The prince bowed his head. "Twas very enjoyable. There art dancers where I come from... though, none move nearly with such elegance as thou didst." He swallowed. Was it out of nervousness, or hunger?

"It fills me with joy to hear you enjoyed the show. But it is late, and I wish to retire for the night." Watching his reaction intently, she almost expected him to become agitated. Nobles often reacted that way, when they realized that she wasn't interested. Some had tried to force themselves onto her... but she was not nearly as delicate as they believed her to be.

He straightened his shoulders. "I... I was wondering if thou wouldst join me on my evening stroll." Apparently the gaze out of her eyes was telling enough, because he quickly added: "I just want to converse with thee, my Lady."

The red spreading from his cheeks over his neck almost matched the red of his hair. Iliana watched this reaction and decided to test her luck. "What if I were to decline your offer?" Bold words, spoken from a commoner towards a Lord. However, he didn't react offended. No, he rather chuckled bashfully and shrugged his shoulder. "Then thou wouldst condemn me to a stroll by myself. I do not intend to force thee to join me." He held out his arm for her to take. "Thy presence would make the whole ordeal a lot less depressing, though."

Golden eyes, flickering with warmth.

Iliana pressed her teeth together, thinking. She should go, get to her quarters and never again see this foreign noble. However, something about him had her in a snare. Like a fly, stuck to a honey trap she was incapable of just turning away. And so, she walked towards him and took his offered arm. His nervous little chuckle further dampened her suspicions towards him.

They walked through the dimly lit streets of the city, an awkward silence between them. If he wanted to converse with her, he was doing a horrible job... Though she kept that thought to herself. Instead, she said: “I only ever heard distant tales of the Lands Between. Would you be willing to tell me about your home, my Lord? And about yourself? A name, for example.” Her words felt wooden and pressed, but she was genuinely curious. She also didn't have a name to call him by.

The prince looked almost embarrassed. “I really failed introducing me...” Clearing his throat, he quickly answered: “My name is Rykard, of house Caria. Firstborn to Queen Rennala and Lord Radagon.”

“Oh my, I'm in the presence of royalty”, she flashed a small smile, as if surprised. Of course she knew of his social standing... it was still nice to finally have a name. “My name is Iliana. My parents sadly are not really noteworthy.”

“Iliana... a lovely name”, he mused quietly, more to himself than to her. She raised an eyebrow, but once more bit back the words that wanted to escape her. He was a strange fellow. “So, prince Rykard. What brings you to this realm?”

“Just Rykard.” His correction was sharp, a crass contrast to the soft spoken manner he had displayed so far. Something about the use of the title – which she thought was appropriate – seemed to irk him more than just a little. The shift in his demeanor managed to send a shiver down her spine once more, making her aware that she still was probably not completely save with him.

With a deep sigh he let a hand glide over his beard. “Please apologize. The use the title is just a waste of breath and... tis utterly unnecessary.”

“Did your father disown you?” The question escaped her before her brain could intervene and stop her. Pure curiosity had her forget caution and she almost expected to receive another cold reminder that she was not free to speak as she liked. Even greater was her surprise, when he grinned a forlorn smile and shook his head. “My father and I are in good standings. However, even if not, it would matter little. My father is consort to the queen of the full moon. His counsel to my mother is noted, but tis her speaking for the realm.”

Iliana was bewildered. True, there were queens in the history of this realm. But it was still unheard of that she would reign without a king by her side. It was always a man, that was speaking the final word. Because gods forbid a woman in a position of uncontested power. Yet it was apparently a thing of reality in the mythical Lands Between.

“To explain my dislike of the title... I am not to inherit the throne. That duty falls to my little sister. The girl hath yet to see her fifth winter, and nonetheless her wits are sharp as a dagger. I am certain she wilt do great.” He smiled warmly, obviously fond of his younger sibling. “I do not intend to merely be reduced to my heritage. My plans art... well, I am to carve out mine own legacy. For that, I am in no need of such banalities like the title prince. They are without meaning on my way ahead.”

“Oh but surely they are not a detriment either”, she retorted, growing bold. Rykard laughed bellowing. “Touché.” Shrugging his shoulders he added: “Truth, having access to the funds of my house is truly a blessing. For it giveth me the opportunity to go on travel far away. All under the guise of diplomacy and treaties.” He leaned down to her – which surely must've looked ridiculous with their height difference - and in a hushed, conspiring, tone he said: “But in confidence, my Lady, I want to taste exotic foods and see sights so fascinating that no one at home will believe me when I bring tale of them.”

Chuckling, she shook her head. “I can't even begrudge you for it. If I had a choice, I would act no different. You would be wise though to not tell everyone about that.” Quickly realizing how rude her words were, she apologized: “I'm sorry...”

“Oh, there is no need to apologize. Tis the truth.” Sighing, he looked up at the stars, before returning his gaze towards her. “Thou'st not to be afraid of offending me. My hide is not that thin.”

Iliana raised her eyebrows. “Well, I am still a commoner. A woman. And despite your dislike of the title, you are still a prince. Don't you want me to talk to you with more decorum?”

He scoffed. “I, for once, welcome some honesty.” She saw a flicker of sadness in his golden eyes, but it disappeared quickly. It wasn't hard to imagine what kind of people he was usually surrounded by. Sycophants, that sought to take just as much advantage of his standing as he himself did. The unavoidable byproduct of royalty. To overplay his glumness, he added: “And besides, were I afraid of strong women then I'd spent my childhood cowering.”

“The customs of your realm are strange”, she confessed and now he truly laughed. “They art different. But.... I prefer the approach that respect is earned by actions, and not by what one his hiding between their legs. I met men pissing their pants at the sight of a mighty foe, whereas the women grinned in grim anticipation of the fight.”

She burst out laughing, amused by his nonchalant behavior. This evening, this meeting... it wasn't so bad. Actually, she was enjoying this. He was fascinating. Stern, and yet also not taking himself too serious. Confident, but also coy. Good company, especially when measured against the kind of nobles she usually had to entertain.

But despite it all, she had to ask nonetheless: “So... how did I catch your attention, Rykard? Surely, the rest of my troupe did perform just as well as I. And yet it was me you chose to wait for." Slowing down, before stopping in her tracks, she looked up to him. She genuinely wondered why he had waited for her in particular. Of course, she knew she wasn't ugly, but she wasn't nearly as beautiful as some of the other girls.

Rykard surprised her when he said, without hesitation: "Thou didst move with natural elegance. None was staged, as it was with the others. It intrigued me." Once more he shrugged his shoulders. "Twas curiosity that had me approach thee, tonight. Curiosity if thine elegance doth apply to thy character as well."

“And what is your verdict?” She couldn't fight the smirk that crept to her lips.

Instead of answering, he bowed his head. “Tis late, my Lady. Many require mine attention tomorrow, so my wits need to be sharp.”

Oh... rarely had the lack of an answer hurt more. Overplaying her disappointment, she gave him a small curtsy. “Enjoy the rest of the night, my Lord.” His golden eyes sparked, when he carefully took one of her hands and breathed a kiss to her knuckles. “Same to thee, Iliana.” She remained standing still, when he left. Watching him disappear into the shadows. Utterly confused.

He was so weird.

But... she still wondered if she would see him again.

Her question would be answered the next evening, when the owner approached her in the changing area, looking like an obese peacock like he always did. “You. Girl. I surely hope you didn't fuck it up yesterday. I need the man to be on my good side, if I want a good deal.”

She scoffed, while putting on the blank white porcelain mask. “I don't know who you think I am, but I am not a whore you can just buy out to the next noble sitting at your table. This is the last time I will tolerate this.” It hadn't been the first time he had done this. And rarely did it end as lenient as it did yesterday. Iliana still would never admit to the owner, that yesterday's evening even had been somewhat pleasant. Best not give him any bright ideas.

Roughly he grabbed her at her arm, hard enough to leave bruises. “Listen up, girl. Without this job, you'd end up in the gutter. I have friends in high places. So you better behave, or I'll see to it that you never find work anywhere but a brothel.” When she ripped her arm from his grip and stared at him with hatred burning in her eyes, but without saying a word, he sneered. “That's what I thought. Now get out there.”

Holding back all the insults she wanted to throw at that bloated toad, she pressed her jaws together and quickly left. Oh, how she hated this feeling of weakness. Her throat narrowed from anger, tears burning in her eyes and her muscles tensing up from pure hatred. But... she was never to act on those dreams for violence she had in those moments, lest she find herself in a whole world of pain and misery. Life just wasn't fair...

She tried her best to put up a good show nonetheless, not getting distracted by her emotions. Her sour mood brightened at least a little bit, when she saw Rykard sitting amid the patrons of the bar. This time he was alone, without the knights and nobles that had accompanied him the night before. Upon seeing him, her heart fluttered a little and she felt a smile creep up her features. He noticed her gaze and smiled himself, raising his glass in a cheer.

Her smile quickly faded however, when she saw the owner approach Rykard, rubbing his chubby hands. She called to mind that this foreigner wasn't her friend. That he was cut of the same cloth as the fat man. Handed everything he wanted from the day of his birth. How could he even remotely understand her?

She realized that she was feeling dour and not at all poised and focused, like she was supposed to when dancing. When looking towards Rykard, she saw how he frowned slightly, lost in thought. She wondered what he was thinking about.

The rest of the evening was just like every other day. The patrons cheered, she and her troupe left the stage, got changed and left. Same old, same old. Iliana yawned when stepping out of the side entrance, thankful for the cold air hitting her face.

“Rough day?”, a familiar voice asked and she frowned. Rykard was waiting for her once again, which surprised her. After yesterday and his rather abrupt departure, she hadn't expected him to once more seek out her company. Frustrated she sighed. “What, did he set this up again?”

Confused, he blinked. “Pardon?”

Forgetting any form of politeness, she scoffed and threw up her hands. “The fat bastard can go to hell. I will no longer play his twisted game.” She wanted to just walk past the foreigner, who was looking rather puzzled. “I don't understand.”

Throwing a burning gaze towards him, she hissed: “What? That I will not be traded for some better conditions in a contract between the two of you? I humored you yesterday, now leave me be.”

“He does that regularly?” His voice was soft and she already felt bad for snapping at him like that. After all, he had been one of the few that actually treated her decently. Composing herself, she rubbed her temples. “He does.”

Rykard frowned again, his eyes directed to the ground. He then nodded with his head towards the alley that would lead to the main street, the same way they had went the evening before. “Why don't we walk a bit, and thou art telling me exactly about this man.”

For some reason she was hesitant to agree. On the one hand she had no real reason to deny him. He wanted to hear her out, hear about her plight. His intentions seemed decent enough. On the other hand, she would play right into the cards of the owner, should she continue to entertain the prince. In the end, she smiled exasperated and started walking. “Well, then let us go.”

Just like the evening before, their first few minutes together were quiet. She wondered if this was a strategy of his to intimidate his company, or if he was just looking for the right words. “So... he doth make it seem like thou art in on it, when he offers thy company?” His words were blunt and she couldn't help a bitter scoff. “He likes to think he owns me.”

“Why dost thou play along?”

“I need the job. And as much as I hate to admit it, he pretty much holds me in his hands with that fact. Because I rather work under someone I despise, before I don't work at all and starve.” Sneering, she added: “I know, you can't relate.” How could he understand, born with a silver spoon in his mouth as he was? Though she should hold her tongue, unless she wanted to offend him to the point of anger.

Rykard answered surprisingly impassively. “Thou'rt right, I couldn't possibly understand. But... Even a snooty royal like I doth possess of empathy. Tell me Iliana, might I propose an offer to thee?” At her curious gaze, he said: “Allow me to be thy company for the time of my stay. That way, thou'rt free from any other possible unpleasantness the man hath planed.”

She huffed in disbelieve. “Such a selfless offer you make.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Never said my motives are altruistic. I quite enjoy thy company. However, I seek not to bother thee unduly. If thou wert to deny my offer, then I will not pursue it further.”

“Despite all the cold remarks, you enjoy my company?” She raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. The look out of his eyes was dark, almost severe. “I told thee, I value honesty.” He smiled, almost immediately losing some of the severity. “Besides, if given the chance choosing between spending my time with bland aristocrats or with thee, my choice would always fall onto thee.”

“Hah, so the prince picks a commoner girl over the noble ladies? Scandal”, she joked and he grinned roguishly. “It is an easy choice. Thou art fascinating.” Iliana felt her heart flutter again and she averted her gaze, so he wouldn't see her blush. “Fine, I will take you up on the offer.”

And he would keep to his promise. For the following week, he would always wait for her in the evening. They would spend their time strolling the nightly streets of the city, talking about sometimes serious, sometimes banal things. She would show him some of her favorite places, like the sprawling midnight market in the lower city, or the harbor, that lied serenely in the light of the moon. He would tell her about his home, the customs of his house and some of the tales about his parents. To pull his leg a little, she had told about her parents and their absolutely mundane lives... and yet he had listened like she told the most epic tale.

The more time they spent together, the better she understood him and who he was. And she saw that there lied a very sad and dark side of him beneath his facade of nonchalant confidence. She enjoyed him and his company, and for a short time her life didn't seem nearly as dull as it actually was.

Until their time together like this would come to an end.

She already expected him to wait for her again and so she wasn't really surprised when she saw him when leaving the building. Her mood already bright from the fact that the owner had been absent today, she felt her heart basically jump in her chest and a wide smile spread across her features. Already turning to walk, he asked: “Wilt thou accompany again tonight, Iliana?”

“You still ask?” She chuckled and linked her arm into his. He didn't retort, instead looking straight ahead, obviously troubled. “I will be leaving, come tomorrow.” The way he lead her wasn't the one they usually took, but she couldn't bring herself to care about that. Rather she was shook from his statement. Of course, she had known that their time together was limited. But she had nonetheless hoped it would last just a little longer.

“I see...” Iliana realized he was leading her towards the harbor of the city, but not the lovely part of it. He was leading her towards the warehouses not far from the place she had shown him. Growing slightly antsy with a bad feeling brewing in the pit of her stomach, she quietly asked: “Where are you leading me?”

“I have a departing gift for thee”, he answered and stopped in front of a set of dark doors. A man in armor stood before them, nodding towards Rykard when he saw him. “We have brought the man in here as you wished, my liege.”

He grinned pleased. “Splendid. See to it that we will not be disturbed.” Opening the door and motioning for Iliana to enter, she hesitated. “Rykard... what is this?” Looking into his golden eyes, she saw that dark expression that often made her so uneasy in his company. He didn't answer, just waiting for her to move. Was he finally revealing the sinister intentions he has had from the beginning? Should she run?

She flinched, when he caressed over her cheek with the backside of his hand. “No harm shall befall thee, my Lady.” For another moment she thought about running, before she finally entered the warehouse. Even if she were to run... he would probably find her. So she accepted any fate that might await her behind the door.

Only a single brazier illuminated a small space of the big building, but it was enough to set a stage for something she surely hadn't expected. Rykard entered just behind her, closing the door tight before pulling a beautiful dagger from its sheath on his belt.

The owner was hanging from his ankles, dangling on a hoist that was usually used to hang up big fish. He was only wearing his undergarments, his heavy body almost completely uncovered and covered in a layer of sweat that was glistening in the light of the brazier. His eyes were bulging out of their sockets, one of them swollen from a no doubt brutal punch, and his face was beet-red, probably from all the blood flushing to his head. Not only his feet, but also his hands were tied up. A dirty rag was shoved into his mouth.

Iliana stared towards Rykard. “What did you do?!”

The foreigner shrugged his shoulders and continued playing with the dagger in his hand. “Nothing, really. I asked our friend for a meeting in confidence, to discuss possible trading relations. Picture my surprise, when he started talking about thee. When he... when he offered thee up for better conditions.” There was true disdain on his face and with an almost disgusted expression he poked the belly of the other man with the dagger, drawing a little blood. Of course that would earn him a muffled squeal.

“I told thee that respect is earned by actions. But tis lost just as quickly by them.” His golden eyes were dark, dangerous. Iliana felt a cold shiver running down her spine when she looked into them. She was scared... but also fascinated. Polished gold, just waiting to see blood spilled.

“And what do you want me to do? Watch you murder him?” She swallowed nervously, when he approached her. His gaze tender, he shook his head. “Nay.” Before she was able to retreat her hand, he put the dagger in her palm and closed her fingers around the handle. The lump in her throat grew, when she realized what he was implying.

He saw the terror in her eyes, so he calmly said: “Take the reigns of thy life into thine own hands. Don't allow some bloated toad to even dare believe he hath thee. Show him the consequences. Show him that thy fate is thine alone to command.” Leaning down to better look into her eyes, he purred: “Pay him back for all he hath done.”

Iliana noticed how her hands started to feel clammy, her breath fast. He was so close... if she was quick enough she could... Tears were in her eyes, when she raised the dagger towards Rykard's throat. “You're no different from him. You want to control me just like all the others. Hurt me, like they all do.”

The man grinned, but shook his head which caused a small cut on his neck. “I have no need for one that is easily controlled. And thou art not. Thou... oh thou art brilliant, Iliana. A viper that waited all her life, for the perfect opportunity to strike. I was merely here to show the opportunity to thee, to show thee just how sharp thy fangs are. Tis thy decision if and on whom thou wilt use them.” His pupils dilated ever so slightly, when he breathed: “And how I long to see thee strike.”

A long moment she didn't react at all, before she slowly licked her lips in a nervous manner. “Even if it was you who I'd kill?”

“Hmm, I am a little biased on that regard. Of course I prefer my throat closed. But... if thou choosest that tis I that is deserving of it, so I will accept it.” Not breaking eye contact even once, he raised a hand and slowly pushed the blade from his throat. “But I see it in thine eyes. I know tis not my blood thou desirest.”

She couldn't deny that there was more than just a little content she held for the owner. Especially in light of the most recent revelations. He thought her his property, ever since she started working in his establishment. Getting her in dangerous situations she sometimes only barely managed to escape from unscathed.

The more she thought about it, the more the anger and hatred started to build inside of her. Bubbling in the pit of her stomach. It was all so unjust. Had it been too much to ask to escape the wretchedness of that fucking village and start her new life in this city, without just ending up in even more misery?! Her hand around the dagger tightened.

With some soft force, Rykard guided her towards the tied up man, holding on to her wrist and helping her make the first cut. The man screamed, as steel parted flesh and blood started to flow. And with that first cut... the rest came as second nature. Again and again she brought down the blade, slicing skin, muscle, tendons. Across his fat belly, spilling his intestines. She felt reminded of her childhood, of the fish her mother would gut. Ah, the rancid smell of it all...

When she was finally done, she breathed heavy, covered in blood. Taking in a deep breath, she spit in the face of the mutilated corpse and grinned. “Fuck you.” Turning away from her handiwork, she looked at Rykard and was bewildered. He was kneeling, an expression of wonder and reverence on his face. “Pure brilliance”, he gasped with bloodshot eyes. “Oh stars, to thing thou couldst be any more beautiful...”

She let the dagger fall to the floor and stepped towards him. On his knees as he was, she finally didn't have to look up to him, but could effortlessly look into his eyes. And for the first time she felt completely at ease when facing him. Iliana raised a hand and caressed over his cheek, leaving bloody streaks on his pale skin. Slowly she traced over his lips and he closed his eyes, clearly enjoying her touch.

“Why... why did you do this.” Her fingers restlessly traced every contour of his face, leaving behind trails of crimson. Rykard smiled and opened his eyes. “Because I knew, from the first time we met, the first time our eyes locked... O Iliana, I knew what brilliance laid dormant inside of thee. And now that tis revealed... I only want to bask in thy radiance.”

She thought back on their first evening together. How he had refused to give her an answer at the end... was this why? Even when she inspected his eyes closer, she couldn't find any deceit. No evidence that the reverence he was giving her was staged, disingenuous. This all... it was so absurd. She just had to laugh, as she looked at the prince kneeling before her.

Leaning forward, she kissed him passionately, tasting copper from the blood she had spread onto him. He was eager to reciprocate, drawing her tight against his body. Drawing back, she bit his lip hard as a farewell. Rykard stared at her with wide eyes, as blood dribbled down his lip. Voice shaking, he said: “Marry me.”

Once again she had to laugh, using the – already quite blood soaked – sleeve of her dress to clean some of the blood from his lip. "But... There surely will be contest to your decision. You are of royal heritage, whereas I-"

"-art perfect." Rykard gave her a roguish smile, before saying: "Let me speak plainly, my Lady. I am never to inherit the throne of my mother. My blood might run blue, but I care not a jot for it. But the yoke of royalty can have benefits. One of them being, that I can do whatever the fuck I want. And if thou wert to become my consort, none would dare to speak ill of it."

She barely bit back the laugh trying to escape her. "Well, my Lord. If you can do whatever you please, would you grant me a favor?" Her hand pressed to his chest, she couldn't hold his gaze. "Grant me a new name."

He sounded surprised. "Why? Thy name is lovely..."

"It is the name of a nobody. Of a commoner. Of someone who would've lived her life in the shadows, fading into nothing were it not for you. Someone unworthy to be called your consort." Finally she raised her gaze. "Let me be someone worthy." His features softened and he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "How shall I call thee then?"

"Tanith." The name of a queen, famed for her resilience. A woman that had been famed for her beauty and cruelty alike. Rumored to have her enemies – and two of her husbands - thrown into a pit of vipers, to see them poisoned. Oh how fitting it all seemed after tonight.

That was who she wanted to be in her new life. Not Iliana, the meek dancer that did just as she was told with dreams so small they didn't matter to anyone but her... She wanted to be Tanith, Lady of a house that had yet to be named. Dreaming of something big, never bowing her head for anyone ever again. Consort to Lord Rykard. "Call me Tanith, my Lord."

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“Your mind... is absent tonight.” The great serpent rumbled, moving ever so slightly. The sound of his voice had changed, but there was still the same melody to it. Tanith sighed softly and let a hand glide over its warm scales. “Forgive me, my Lord. It was occupied with thoughts of the past.”

“Hmm... hark, dear consort. I need you... to bring the man to me. Just him... Not Ranni.” Rykard – or rather the serpent – turned its head to look at her. “He has to be powerful... So he has to join.”

Tanith nodded and turned to leave. “Of course, my Lord.”

“And Tanith... You look lovely tonight.” The serpent coiled up once more, to lay in anticipation for the next champion that would come to join his family.

Chapter Text

Rest was a luxury, most Tarnished weren't able to truly experience. An hour of dozing here, the occasional moment of deep sleep... Anyone getting too comfortable in the Lands Between nowadays was easy prey. Vigilance was key to survival.

So it was little wonder, that Constantine woke up when he heard the faintest of sounds. Immediately on high alert, he held his breath and listened intently, staring into the darkness of the room. There it was again, a sound so quiet he almost had been willing to write it off as his mind playing tricks on him. But he knew better. It was a sound that reminded him of something being dragged over a stone floor, almost a hissing.

He hesitated and thought about waking Ranni up. Shortly looking over to her, his features softened. The spectral part of her face looked so... serene. Completely at ease. It was still a little unnerving, the way she didn't breathe at all when sleeping. It made him wonder why she feigned it when awake. Was it to not unsettle others when they interacted with her, or was it simply a subconscious mechanism that persisted even when not necessary?

Letting his thoughts ponder on the happenings of the evening, he gently caressed over her cheek. She was still a little uncertain in their relationship, though he truly felt she was slowly allowing herself to accept his unconditional love. And she was loving him. Just remembering how she had said those words made a whole swarm of butterflies dance in his stomach.

Careful not to wake his wife, he pulled his arm from under her and slowly got up to investigate the sound. His steps soft and slow, he sneaked towards the door and opened it. The red glow of the lava was seeping through the windows, illuminating the hallway. When Constantine stepped out of the room, he all of a sudden had a bad feeling creeping up his spine. Maybe he should go get his sword...

The attack was both nigh on completely silent and just as unexpected. A rough rope closed around his neck from behind, snapping his head back. Eyes bulging, Constantine tried to get a hand between his neck and the rope that was cutting off his air. Whoever was attacking him was strong, though. Pressing him tight against their body, so he had no wiggle room and no opportunity to get the upper hand.

His head started spinning and he tried to kick behind him, let his elbow crash against the ribs of his assailant. Besides a little grunt, there was no reaction. Realizing there was no way for him to get out of this by himself, he tried to kick against the door. Make enough noise to wake Ranni and warn her. But he couldn't reach it, instead falling rather clumsily. His motions slowed down, as his vision slowly went dark.

As he passed out, a last thought crossed his mind. He really hoped that Grace hadn't completely abandoned him just yet.

He was surrounded by almost unbearable heat, when he opened his eyes again. Constantine coughed and rubbed his neck, the bruised line where the rope had cut into his skin especially painful. His head still slightly spinning, he carefully got to his knees and took a look around.

Surrounded by rough stone walls and loose dirt beneath him, he wasn't sure if he was still in the manor or if the assailant had dragged him somewhere else. The biting smell of sulfur was all around, so in combination with the heat he was at least sure he was still near the volcano. Now all he had to do was figure out a way back so he could rip whoever had abducted him into shreds. Easier said than done, he thought bitterly when looking down at himself. All he had were his pants. No weapon. No useful items. Not even a fucking shirt or boots.

Sighing he got to his feet. “So much to allowing myself some comfort”, he grumbled and just hoped Ranni was doing better than him. He was sure Tanith was behind this nightly attack. All of it had been just too planned, too perfect. And he also knew that Ranni would be heartbroken over the betrayal, which caused a small flame of content to rise in his chest. Just when she had started to open up, to allow herself to trust, that faith was once more abused. Constantine really wasn't surprised anymore that she was distrusting and aloof, if this was what she had to experience over and over.

Following a small path that seemed to lead out of the small cave, he stomped onward. He would find his way back and show those treacherous snakes just how grave their mistake was.

As he stepped out of the cave, he furrowed his brow. The way hadn't led him outside of the cave, but rather into a far more spacious cavern. The red glow of lava was all around, hurting in his eyes. To the smell of sulfur came the scent of burned flesh, which wasn't surprising with the piles of corpses scattered all over. This place was strange, a mixture of man-made structures like pillars and chandeliers and organically formed with stalactites and rough stone walls.

Constantine cautiously walked over the surprisingly smooth floor, the stone pleasantly warm underneath his bare soles. His eyes darting all over his surroundings, trying to discern where he was and what awaited him. Because judging by the way his heart picked up pace and the hairs in the nape of his neck stood on edge, there was something awaiting him here. And the hundreds of corpses were also a... very dead giveaway that something wasn't right.

His eyes caught on a spear, held by the charred corpse of some poor sap that had been brought here before him. When he picked it up, the hands still clammed around the metal handle of the large weapon crumbled to ash. Constantine sighed when testing the weight of the spear. Not his weapon of choice, but it would have to suffice. It was surprisingly light and a small breeze seemed to envelop him as soon as he held it up. Magic?

Feeling a little less vulnerable he continued his way to the center of the cavern. There was something laying dormant there, from a distance he had thought it just an especially big pile of corpses. But closing up on it, he saw the scales and heard the low breathing. A giant snake, curled up in itself, was laying there, surrounded by a pool of lava. It didn't notice him yet.

Thanks to his bare feet, each of his steps was quiet so he could sneak up on the creature. And the closer he got, the more uneasy he felt. The flanks of the serpent were ripped open on some places, revealing the fleshy innards of it. But instead of guts or other viscera spilling out of it, there were... hand-like things sprouting out of it, reaching out and wiggling in a highly disturbing manner. And if that wasn't enough already, he spotted arms. Full on, human arms.

In a mixture of disgust and fascination he braced himself for battle, when the serpent started to move and rear its massive head. With its forked tongue flickering out, it beheld the new prey that just approached, the eyes revealing clear intelligence. This wasn't just some gigantic snake, it was something more. Something ancient.

However, Constantine found it hard to care, as the creature lunged forward, maw wide open to devour him in one bite. The Tarnished jumped to the side, evading his fate of becoming the midnight snack of the serpent. Using his momentum, he swung the spear in an upward motion, to pierce the skull of the creature, but it was fast. He had expected that, but he hadn't expected the torrent of wind ripping towards the serpent, hitting it hard.

Angrily it hissed and shook its head. Constantine grinned and tightened his grip around the spear. Now that was finally a good turn of events. Once more using his lower arm as leverage, he swung the spear with as much force as he could muster, sending yet another torrent towards the serpent. It flinched, before once more shooting forward towards the Tarnished.

One of the rapid hits caught him mid roll, his foot getting caught in the mouth of the creature. “Shit!” He howled, when the razor sharp teeth of the serpent pierced his ankle and calf. The pain was bad, but when it violently threw its head from one side to the other, he almost thought his foot would be lost to the stomach of his enemy. Thankfully it released him before that could happen, though the pain he felt when he tried to put weight on the ankle was almost enough to make him crumble to the floor.

Using the spear as a makeshift crutch, he held himself up and tried to collect himself. The serpent spit in his direction, though most of the greenish spittle missed him. The few drops that hit him made his skin burn and itch, so he didn't want to imagine the torment awaiting should his enemy not miss the next time.

A hand clawed for him, but by letting himself fall on his back he evaded the grab. It was a freakish thing, far too many fingers that weirdly enough were decorated with ornate rings. Constantine felt reminded of those disgusting hand-spiders. As if this situation wasn't bad enough...

Rolling to the side to evade a tail swipe, he felt hundreds of little bone shards poking into his skin. Some of them managed to break though it, drawing blood. Constantine growled and got up, his right leg once again almost giving away under his weight. Bearing his teeth, he fought through the pain and swung the spear again. Another hard hit against the serpent, making it writhe from the new wound. As worn down as the Tarnished was, his foe didn't stand much better.

Winding up for another hit with the spear, he was disrupted by the swipe of one of the massive hands. He lost his footing, rolling uncontrolled over the floor until his tumble was ended upon hitting against a pile of corpses. Ash covered him, reducing his sight to a swirl of gray and glowing red. Coughing and waving his hands to chase away the ash, he stood up, the spear still in his vice like grip. Losing this weapon would mean certain death.

Constantine saw the serpent wind up once more, ready to shoot towards him and swallow him whole. The muscles underneath the skin bulging, it sprung on him. In the same moment it started the attack, he himself braced himself and swung the spear.

The torrent hit the head of the creature just in the right moment, diverting it from its trajectory and sending it crashing to the ground. This time, it didn't get back up.

Exhaling shakily, Constantine let himself fall on his butt and let the spear fall besides him. Inspecting the wound on his right leg, he pulled a grimace and looked away. Bone was shining through the gore, the edges of the wound tattered. It was only thanks to the adrenaline coursing through his veins that he managed to keep his conscience and not black out from pain. He didn't even have a shirt to spare, to at least bandage it for the moment.

It was when he wanted to leave, that he saw movement in the carcass of the serpent. Cursing, he once more readied the spear. “Why can't shit just stay dead....” He watched the creature rise once more, but it was weird. The head of the snake hung limply down, eyes empty and tongue hanging out of its maw. It was clearly dead, so what...

Slowly it turned, revealing the humanoid face on the neck of the serpent. The scales were of a light gray, a wreath of thick golden scales almost made it seem like it was wearing a crown. Golden eyes, their sclera pitch black, stared down at Constantine and a mad smile spread on thin lips. Much to the surprise of the Tarnished, the serpent started talking: “Hmm... Very well...” Each word sounded pressed, like it was only brought forth with extreme struggle.

Raising one of his hands towards the limp head of the snake, the... man – Constantine wasn't sure if that creature could be called that, but it seemed sentient enough to talk – shoved it down the throat of it. With a sickening squelch the hand pushed further, until he retreated it, his ringed fingers closed around the hilt of a sword. Accompanied by half digested corpses of people that were sent here before, the serpent revealed a long blade, pulling it out of the mouth of the snake like Constantine would unsheathe his sword. The same small wiggly hand-like growth that were spilling out of the body of the serpent were also on the blade, making it glisten in a disturbingly organic manner. Spreading his arms, the serpent spoke once more: “You... Join the serpent king... as family. Together, we will devour the very gods!”

Barely able to keep upright with his brutalized right leg, Constantine swallowed and braced himself. He knew it would need more than a miracle for him to survive this fight. But he certainly wouldn't go down without a fight.

Just as he expected the serpent to strike with his sword, he beheld the Tarnished once more. Slowly, his voice somehow even darker, he asked: “... Why are you clad like that? Did... Did you lay a finger... on my sister?!”

Absolutely dumbfounded, all he could do was stare at the monstrous creature before him. This was Rykard?! He was so flabbergasted, that no sound came over his lips, which apparently served as answer to the serpent. With a guttural sound he slammed his sword into the ground, sending stone and ash flying. “How dare you... defile her?!”

Constantine just kept staring, still absolutely overwhelmed by the revelation of the identity. But also at the absurdity of this all. Exhaling slightly exasperated, he snapped out of his gawking and shook his head. To himself, he mumbled: “I love you Ranni... but your family is a bunch of lunatics.”

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It was the lack of warm that finally woke Ranni up. Still a little drowsy, she pushed up on her elbow and took a look around. Constantine wasn't laying in the bed with her anymore and was nowhere in the room. Frowning she climbed out of bed and tried to find an explanation for his disappearance. Maybe he was just taking a leak?

She felt worry creep up on her, when she saw his sword still leaning against the table and his tunic on the floor where she had thrown it in the evening. By now she knew him well enough to judge that he wouldn't leave the room only half dressed. And most of all, he wouldn't leave the sword behind. Not only because he would never leave himself open to attacks like that, but also because he was almost obsessed with the thing, rarely leaving it out of his sight.

The more she thought about it, the more she started to worry. There was no way he would leave her behind just like that, no matter what reason. Quickly she dressed herself, a remnant of shame coursing through her as she thought back on her – in her eyes - unbecoming behavior last evening. But... she also felt a little tingle of excitement when thinking back on the tender caresses and sweet words they had exchanged. Annoyed she shook her head, turning her thoughts to the problem at hand. Focus, Ranni!

Her steps were poised but fast, when she walked towards the parlor. If anyone had answers, it was Tanith. Her suspicious behavior the night before made her the prime suspect. Ranni didn't want to believe that they had been betrayed by her, but all the facts she currently had clearly pointed towards it. She felt guilty, for allowing herself to let down her guard like that and trust in the good intentions of Tanith. How far her brother was involved in it, she wasn't able to tell.

The proprietress was sitting in her throne-like chair, almost as if she had been expecting her. Her guard, the crucible knight, was standing at some distance behind her. His hands on his sword, as soon as Ranni entered the room. Dropping any pretense of friendliness, she hissed: “Where is he?”

Tanith crossed her legs, the nonchalant gesture enough to make Ranni ball her fists in anger. “Good morning to you too.” Not willing to play along whatever twisted little game it was she was playing, she repeated herself, this time a lot calmer but also a lot more obviously angry. “Where. Is. He.” Taking a step forward, she drew her catalyst. “Where is Constantine? What didst thou do?”

“There is no need for hostilities.” With a single motion of her hand, Tanith ordered her guard to hold back. “My Lord wished to see your consort. I obliged and made it possible. However, my Lord wished for you to not be present, so I hope you can forgive me.”

Snubbed, Ranni furrowed her brow. She had expected there to be some tensions when seeing her brother again after all those years, but to think he wouldn't want to see her at all... something was off. “So, thou wouldst summon Constantine in the midst of night. Tanith, thou'rt not telling me everything, and my patience is wearing thin. Speak now, or will seek the answers myself.”

An exasperated sigh was her answer, followed by the proprietress getting up from her chair. “You wouldn't understand, even if I were to explain. Much less accept if I told you my Lord's plans for your consort. But fine... I will show you.”

“Show me what, precisely? Yet another trap?” Ranni smiled without joy. “Thou'st forfeit my goodwill, Tanith. I merely still my stave, so thou wilt bring me to my consort. After that... I might feel inclined to show thee the consequences of betraying me.”

“Peace, Ranni”, the other woman sighed, but simultaneously sounded amused. “I see despite all the years, your temper is still as volatile as ever. As hard as it might be right now... trust me. Your consort is becoming part of something greater. Greater than any of us could dream of. Instead of cursing me, you should rejoice that he has been deemed worthy.”

“I will rejoice once thou'st brought me to him. Whatever tis my brother hath planned, I will not have Constantine be made an unwilling participant.” Realizing that Ranni wasn't willing to budge, Tanith nodded. “So be it. I see no reason not bring you to them. Though I had hoped of sparing you the... less pretty details, of what it means to join the serpent king. A process both frightening and beautiful...”

Fearing for the well-being of her husband, she faced the almost emotionless gaze of the proprietress. The words had been more than just a little menacing. Tightening her grip around her catalyst, she slowly said: “If thou didst hurt him...”

Tanith obviously smiled underneath her mask. “I do not fear you, Lunar Princess. We stand on the precipice of greatness, your hollow threats cannot reach me. Because even if I fade, so will my Lord continue his work. You cannot stop us, only beg for being a part of it.” Meeting the disdain filled gaze of her guest, she cheerily said: “Now come. If we are lucky, we might get the chance to watch your consort become a part of the serpent king.”

Chapter Text

The tip of the quill hastily scratched over the parchment, as the Lunar Princess wrote down the results of her research. She was sitting in a dimly lit corner of the library of her family's estate, protected from any nosy gazes. If anyone would see what she was researching... she would be dragged to Leyndell by her feet, to be hanged for treason. Though with the severity of her conspiracy, she might even first get flayed and then crucified.

The sounds of the manor reached her, the usually rather quiet estate filled with ruckus and guests. The winter solstice was in only a few days, a night the house of Caria always celebrated. Longer nights of course were reason for a house bound to the night sky to make merry.

Usually Ranni really enjoyed the festivities, but lately her mind had been so occupied by schemes and research, she barely found it in her to at least show her face from time to time. It was just enough to keep her mother from growing suspicious that something was wrong. Queen Rennala was like a bloodhound when it came to the state of mind of her children. So Ranni just feigned the diligent student, her nose always in a book. The safest way to deter her mother from asking questions. After all, the queen loved nothing more than the pursuit of knowledge, always proud when seeing her daughter taking after her.

“Thou wilt ruin thine eyes continuing to study in such dark corners”, a raspy voice said, making her flinch hard and tip over her vial of ink. Cursing, she tried to salvage her notes by wiping the ink away with the sleeve of her robes. “And thou wilt find thyself with a dagger to thy throat if thou continuest to sneak up on people, Rykard”, she hissed towards her brother.

When did he arrive? Sure, he had announced his attendance of the festivities for the pending winter solstice... but she hadn't expected him so soon. Had she known, she'd have halted all her research for the time being. Rykard was far too inquisitive and attentive, he would've immediately grown suspicious towards her. And of course, his first course of action when arriving at the manor of the Carian family was to annoy his little sister.

“What is it that hath thee react like a skittish cat, sister?” In a quick motion he managed to snatch the parchment out of her hand, a malicious smile on his lips. Ranni felt her heart drop and vigorously she tried to rip her notes out of his grip. “Halt! That is none of thy concern! Give it back!”

Due to their difference in height and strength, he had no problem of keeping her at arm's length and read the smudged notes. “Calm down, pipsqueak. What, is this a loveletter? Aaaaw, did somebody catch the eye of the Dark Moon?” He chuckled with malice. Seeing that her efforts were in vain, she stopped struggling.

Deflated she sat back down on the chair and covered her face with her hands. She was done for. All her hard work, of researching the Rune of Death, of trying to formulate a plan to sever her ties with the Greater Will, of preparing for a daring plan... all of it for naught. Rykard would report to Marika, leading her to the scaffold, maybe even holding the blade that would kill her. He was a Praetor after all, adorned so by the eternal queen herself.

“Rykard... I prithee thee...”, she tried weakly, but he only raised one ringed hand, ordering her to keep quiet. The smile had completely faded from his features, instead he had a severe expression on his face. She shut her mouth. So the little sister tactic wouldn't work on him. Fuck.

“Thou... art planning treason?” His golden irises bore into her and she quickly avoided his intense gaze. “I have to. Please, hear me out.” When she heard her voice shaking, she grew annoyed with herself. This was just Rykard. Stupid, annoying Rykard. Why was she so scared? As images of herself nailed to a stake crossed her mind, she knew immediately why she was so scared.

“So thou hast doubts.” He hummed in thought, scratching his beard. The sound of fingernails scraping over dry skin made the fine hairs on the nape of her neck stand on edge. The sound of rats, greedily feasting on her corpse. Her breath quickened. She was prepared to die. After all, it was a big part of her plan... only that her soul would live on. Total death... imagining it, imagining the torture that would await her, to then fade forever... It left her in a state of terror.

“Don't cry”, he said in a soft voice and she frowned. Hastily she wiped the tears away, that had unwittingly escaped her eyes. Clearing her throat, she tried speaking once more: “This plot-”

“Is horrendous. Sloppy. Really, sister, how didst thou think to outplay Marika with this?” He sighed and shook his head, walking up to her and sat down on the desk next to her. Mockingly he flicked his hand once against the parchment still in his hand. “I always though Radahn to be the one lacking the brains, but apparently thou art no better.”

Despite the delicate situation she was in, she nonetheless pouted indignantly. “I did the best I could!” He scoffed. “If that is the best thou'rt capable of, then my oh my thou'st better shoveled thy grave already.”

“Wilt... Wilt thou tell Marika about my ploy?” She didn't dare to look at him. A surprised yelp escaped her, when Rykard put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close to him, almost in a headlock. “Idiot. Of course not. I could not condemn my daft little sister to her death, now could I?” Leaning forward, so she could hear him better despite his quiet whisper, he confided: “I myself have doubts, Ranni. I encountered something magnificent deep below the volcano... something that left me no choice but to renounce the principles of the Golden Order. Mayhaps twas destiny that I would encounter thee like this today. A sign, moving me to action.”

She tried to crane her neck, so she could properly look into his face. “What-”

“Not here. Not now. I will tell thee in due time. Just know, that I will support thee in thine endeavor and that my lips art sealed towards Marika. Her time is nearing its end anyways. I can feel it. She lost the favor of her God.” He chuckled darkly. “Tearing her down will be as easy as crushing an insect.”

Despite her awkward position, she pressed out. “The path ahead is dark and arduous, brother. We will go against Leyndell, the Golden Order and by proximity our father.”

He laughed, rubbing his knuckles over her scalp and making her squirm. When she had been younger, he constantly used to do that. “Ouch! Bloody brute!” At her outcry he only laughed louder. “Thou'st grown soft, little princess. Though, thy rebellious spirit giveth me hope.”

When he let go of her, she rubbed her head with a pout. “I am a girl. Thou shouldst be at least a little more affable towards me.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh please. Thou'st bigger balls than most of the sissies at court, claiming to be strong men. Do not tell me about being gentle towards thee, sister.” Despite his vulgar analogy, she had to chuckle. Stupid, annoying Rykard... she loved him. “Don't let mother hear thee talk like that. She wilt scrub thy tongue with soap, no matter how old thou art.”

“If only thou wouldst hear how I talk to the men in my service... My, thou wouldst faint.” He grinned a mean smile. “The tender ears of the fair princess could not take it.”

Reminiscing about her tutor and how she had taught Ranni a surprising many ways to integrate “fuck” into just once sentence, she merely raised an eyebrow. “Surely. Mayhaps we will find an occasion to test that theory.”

He got up from the desk, grinning menacingly, as he looked down to his sister. “The strong will take what is theirs, and our power is unparalleled. Let us show them all just how strong we are, sister dearest. Tis the season for treason.” She rolled her eyes and he guffawed, as he pulled her up from her chair. “Now come, the preparations for the festivities are part of the fun. Mead and music art waiting.”

She sighed and rubbed her temples. “After that horrible rhyme from thee, I need to drown myself in the mead to forget.”

“Knowing thy character, that hath been thy plan from the beginning.” He raised an eyebrow and she shrugged. “Mayhaps. Would be a shame for it to go to waste, with all the soft nobles that cannot stomach a proper drink.”

“The fiercest shrimp around”, he laughed and earned a hefty punch to the kidney, that had him yelp and keel over. She gave a complacent smirk. “The fiercest indeed, big oaf.”

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One might assume that it was impossible for a doll to feel nauseous. Ranni surely had believed so, up until this day. There was no stomach, so how could she feel sick? Confronted with the atrocities that lied behind the presentable side of the manor, she had to rethink her conviction. Because right now, she felt sick like she rarely had.

It seemed that the sole purpose of the hidden part of the manor was to torture and kill. Creatures that were a mixture of snake and man roamed the hallways, tormenting the Albinaurics and other poor creatures imprisoned here. Every last stone seemed to be covered in blood and misery. With each step they took, Ranni lost more trust in her brother. He was responsible for all of this, after all. Each drop of blood that had been spilled, each abominable experiment, each gruesome death. All in pursuit of more power.

Tanith didn't speak, only leading her through these halls. Her bodyguard was right behind her, functioning as a living barrier between her and the livid demigod. The snake creatures bowed as soon as they spotted her, stopping whatever horrendous task they were doing immediately. Though clearly outnumbered, Ranni didn't really worry about an ambush. The spark in Tanith's eyes, as she had told about this serpent king... she knew the proprietress wanted her to see what it was her husband had worked on.

They entered the throne room, a hall that used to be filled by an air of radiance and importance. Now, all it was filled by were those freakish snake-men and the bones and gore of countless victims. Despite of how it disgusted her, she inspected almost each corpse they passed intently. Constantine was a Tarnished, he would return from Grace, should he die. She knew that. But... some irrational part of her still had to make sure.

Past the throne room was a portal, activated and waiting to take them even further into the bowels of this accursed place. She didn't hesitate to use it, determined to find her husband. If necessary, she would tear the manor down stone by stone. Tanith and her bodyguard awaited her on the other end, and for the first time since they had started their way, she talked. “We are close. Though I know my request is futile, I nonetheless ask you to not interfere. I would hate for you to get hurt.”

Ranni didn't answer, only glared at her in cold rage. She still wasn't completely sure how she would deal with the betrayal. For now, she decided that the severity of her revenge would depend on how Constantine was. The Crucible Knight didn't frighten her, he was more just an obstacle and less a threat.

Leading her through a corridor with walls of rough stone, they entered a gigantic cave. Ranni heard the fight before she saw it. A rumble, as if stone was ground against stone, followed by the sound of... wind? Her brow furrowed, she stepped past Tanith and froze in place.

There was Constantine, holding himself in a crooked position and only keeping upright thanks to the spear on which he could lean on. He was no small man, usually standing tall with broad shoulders. But he seemed like nothing more but a mouse compared to the monster he was facing. It was... Ranni couldn't believe her eyes. A snake, the size of a mountain. But it wasn't the serpent that had her stare in absolute horror. It was the face that was staring at the Tarnished before him, the features a grotesque distortion of what they once had been. But Ranni immediately recognized them.

Rykard. Her brother.

Mortified she turned around to Tanith, her voice betraying her as it shook when she asked: “What... What happened? Good grief... Tanith what happened to my brother?”

Unfazed by her distress, the other woman beheld her with an expression of fanatic glee in her eyes. “My Lord joined with the Great Serpent. By joining their bodies and minds together, they became one. Unparalleled strength and wisdom, combined in one form. He is beautiful, is he not?”

“Stars...” The demigod felt nauseous once again, as she looked towards this... thing, that once had been her brother. She might've expected the worst when she had thought about the influence of the Great Serpent, but this was trumping all her worst speculations. He had fed himself to the serpent, devoured and made part of the ancient creature.

Rykard wielded his massive sword with surprising dexterity, only missing Constantine by a few centimeter. Her husband had a badly hurt leg, limping. It was clear that he was much less fighting at this point and more so just trying to stay alive. His skin covered in cuts and bruises, blood mixed with his sweat. He had one eye pressed shut tight, as blood was dripping down his brow from a nasty wound. He would not be able to fight much longer.

Without so much as acknowledging Tanith calling out for her, she stormed toward the fight. Her initial feelings of horror, sadness and regret replaced by one simple emotion. Rage. Pure and unfiltered. “RYKARD!!!” She couldn't remember when she last had raised her voice like that... if indeed she ever had.

The serpent stopped in his motions, turning his head towards her and looking at her full of surprise. The eyes of the siblings met and Ranni couldn't recognize her brother, didn't find him in the frenzied gold irises. “Daft oaf!” Furiously, she approached the monstrous form that once had been her bother. “What didst thou do?!” She threw a quick glance towards Constantine, who used the distraction to catch his breath. This close, she saw just how severe the wound on his leg was. He needed to heal, before losing too much blood.

“Ooooh”, Rykard grumbled slowly, his voice just as distorted and twisted from what it once had been, like the rest of him. “You... Why are you here...?”

“It surpriseth me to see thou art capable of speech, considering thou art bereft of any brains! Joining with the serpent... Why wouldst thou do that to thyself?!” She was not even trying to hide her emotions, showing her rage and disappointment openly. “We swore to tear the Greater Will down, to end the reign of the Erdtree! And here thou art, feeding thyself to another vile god!”

“Ranni... You do not understand. This was necessary... to achieve true strength. Claim what is mine.” He grinned twisted. “And we only grow... ever stronger.”

“Thou'rt more monster than man, brother! Look at thee! Thy body... what thou'st done to the captives and thy own soldiers! Thou art revolting.”

Rykard watched the tantrum of his little sister, unimpressed. “Ranni... Together with my family of champions... I will devour all. Devour the gods... devour the world... Nothing will remain... but the mighty serpent.” He stretched one of his deformed hands towards her. “Join us...”

She looked absolutely mortified. “Thou... Thou wouldst devour me?”

“It is much more than that... You would join, in righteous war... Do you not want to rebuild this world? We could be a family once more...”

“This is no family...” She shook her head. There was some semblance of him left, but this creature was no longer her brother. There was nothing left of the man that would make it his personal mission to annoy her whenever he visited the manor, but also helped her steal sweets from the kitchen. Who had carried her on his shoulders when she was little, so she could reach the upper shelves and books she usually wasn't allowed to read yet. Who had helped her to play pranks on Radahn, laughing with her whenever they succeeded. Without him, she probably would've failed in her attempt to shed her flesh. His shrewd mind formulating the Night of the Black Knives.

Ranni was sure, were she still able she would shed tears now. Her soul was hurting, ripped apart by the revelation of what had become of her beloved brother. It was like it had been with Blaidd, the pain was almost too much to take. This time though, Rykard was the only one to blame here, his demise of his own making. Hand shaking, she raised her catalyst. “I... Thou art utterly insane, brother. The serpent hath twisted thee, not only in body but in mind as well.”

His eyes rested on her for a moment, before he narrowed them. “Fine...” Raising his sword, he growled: “Let us finally determine... which of us is the strongest...”

Before he was able to bring the blade down, his arm got ripped to the side as a mighty torrent hit it. Ranni, ready to evade the attack, looked over to Constantine who held the spear in a steady grip. He winked at her. “I got your back.” She gave a grim smile, feeling at least some comfort that she wasn't alone in this. However, she was still worried because of his wound. “Get some distance and take care of thy wound.”

“If you didn't bring my flask with Crimson Tears, I'm afraid there is nothing we can do”, he answered and she cursed herself. In her blind panic she hadn't thought about bringing his gear. All of the items he usually had with him in fights were still on the table of their room. Clicking her tongue in annoyance over herself, she threw a soft gaze towards him. “I'm sorry...”

Shaking his head, he limped a little closer to her. “Don't worry, we can do this. By ourselves we are already pretty strong. Together, we are unbeatable.” His outlook was maybe a little naive, but she also appreciated his level-headed optimism.

Rykard slammed his fist to the ground, as he steadied himself and let his sword shoot forward in an effort to impale one of the two. Quickly they split up again, she with a nimble side-step and he with a roll. Constantine used his momentum and while on one knee he swung the spear and released another torrent towards the serpent. Ranni conjured a massive icecrag, unleashing it directly at her brother's head. Both attacks landed, sending their enemy tumbling.

Ranni had to jump back, when Rykard threw lava in her direction to burn her. Her brow furrowed, she waved her catalyst once and surrounded herself in a cloud of icy mist. It would protect her to some degree, even though a direct hit with the burning liquid would still harm her. Back when she still had her old body, she had tried that tactic while sparring with him once. It ended in a bad cold and hypothermia, as the spell had frozen her to the core. At least she didn't have to worry about that anymore.

Summoning a glintstone phalanx, she kept the focus of her brother on herself, so her consort had enough time to land another hit with that enchanted spear. She didn't know where that weapon came from, but it was rather apparent that it had been created with the ancient serpent and its defeat in mind. And each hit from it seemed to do massive damage to Rykard, ripping apart the blueish scales of his body and splattering his dark red blood over the stone floor.

Juggling the full force of two powerful enemies at once, Rykard quickly went from offense into defense to avoid adding more wounds to his already injured body. Growling in apparent anger, he raised his sword above his head with both hands, red energy circling around it. He was charging up to something and Ranni braced herself, concentrating her power to her catalyst.

Maddened eyes met her, when he brought his sword down. The steel thundered into the ground, cracking it apart and sending a stream of lava towards her. With a foot set before her to stabilize herself, she waved her catalyst and conjured a wall of ice that kept the lava from enveloping her. As fire met ice, the cave was filled with a loud hiss and steam rose. Holding her concentration on her spell, she renewed the ice that melted under the heat. The lava hardened to stone around the ice and when she was sure that she was safe, the demigod waved her catalyst once more. The newly formed stone exploded, as she expanded the ice underneath drastically. The shards ripped a few new wounds into the scaly body of her brother.

Using the window of opportunity she had created for him, Constantine charged a mighty attack with the spear and unleashed the torrent just as she distracted their enemy with the explosion. Groaning in pain, Rykard went to the ground and remained stunned for a moment. A perfect moment for her to cast her favorite spell.

Embracing the Dark Moon into her mind and magic, she let the cold of her patron flow through her, as she conjured her spell. For a moment, all she felt was the Dark Moon. Hear the beautiful melody of the cosmos. See the calming blue hue of the sparse light that surrounded it. Feel its cold envelop her very being. Even tasted the almost metallic taste of the frost. It had frightened her to tears, back when she first had encountered it. She had been just a little child, not even six years old. Absolutely terrified by the touch of the Dark Moon and not yet understanding what blessing she had received, she had pressed herself to her mother, shaking like a scared little pup.

Ranni learned soon that the cold embrace of the Dark Moon was no reason for fear. And as years passed, the celestial body became her confidant and close friend, bringing her comfort with calm derived from darkness.

As the image of the Dark Moon shot towards Rykard, she gracefully touched the ground again. It made her sad, to think that she was using the greatest legacy of their house against her own brother. To have the moon turned against a son of Caria.

The spell hit the serpent hard, frost climbing over his scales and slowing down his already sluggish motions. Bearing his teeth, he chuckled darkly. “Pesky flea.” Twirling around quickly, he swiped his tail and managed to send Constantine to the ground before he was able to charge another attack. Her husband didn't get back up, only moving faintly and clearly struggling to regain enough balance to stand up again.

“You have grown stronger... since last we met.” Rykard looked at her with a dark spark in his eyes, a mixture of disdain and... anticipation? Ranni was caught off guard, when the head of the ancient serpent reared up and bared its hooked teeth. It fixated her with slit pupils and she realized why her brother had looked at her like that. It hadn't been anticipation. It had been greedy hunger.

Its maw open wide, it sprung on her, trying to devour her and add her to the hundreds of lost souls that had found their never ending torment in the innards of the Great Serpent. But just like Rykard had the – be it unwilling – support of the champions he had devoured, Ranni had her own champion fighting on her side.

The torrent hit the head of the serpent, sending it crashing into the ground as it lost balance. Looking over to her consort, she saw him standing with his face a grimace of pain as he had to put all his weight on his injured leg to attack in time. He was sickly pale by now, sweat running down his face and chest. Hobbling towards her, he put himself between her and her brother and charged one last attack. It would put an end to Rykard, who was barely managing to get back up.

With victory this close, Constantine threw a gaze over his shoulder, smiling at her. “Told you I got your b-” Before he was able to end his sentence, he was cut off. Quite literally, as the blade hit him full force and severed his head from his shoulders. The headless body stood, wavering as if it was confused and didn't realize that it was dead. Blood gushed out of the neck, his heart still trying to take it to the head that was no longer there.

“NO!”, she cried out mortified, watching as the headless body of her beloved slumped over before dissolving to ashes. He would come back. He was a Tarnished. But... it was still horrifying to watch him die like that. To see his sweet smile cut down like that, when he gave his all to protect her. And Rykard... he laughed. That cruel, callous laugh she hated so much.

“Ha... Did I break your toy?”, he sneered and wound up for another thrust with his sword. Rage twisting its cold knife in her stomach, she conjured her magic. How dared he?! Mocking her, like nothing had changed. As if he was still just her brother, and not some hideous creature that thought about nothing but adding to itself.

Ranni felt the cold that coursed through her, when she unleashed her incantation, summoning a pillar of ice that impaled Rykard just below his face. It went through him, stopping him from any movement. Gurgling blood he let his sword fall to the ground, almost desperately trying to break the mass of ice holding him in place. The spell had required a lot of energy from her and Ranni wavered as exhaustion rolled over her. But after this short moment of weakness, she quickly composed herself.

It was as if he realized that he had lost, when Rykard smiled with blood dripping out of his mouth. “Pipsqueak...” There was some melancholy to his voice, but she didn't care for it. Instead she braced herself, focus on the spell she weaved. Manipulating it, until she found the right frequency in the magic construct. In a finite motion she clapped her hands together, the sound traveling loud through the cave. In a cacophony of cracking ice and ripping flesh, the pillar of ice she had created imploded in itself, taking the head of the Great Serpent from its body.

The severed head fell to the ground and the rest of the body slumped down. All that was left of her brother was a big carcass. Ranni stared at it with conflicting emotions. She hated him for what he had done, for what he had allowed himself to become. But she also still felt the love she had held for him as her big brother. And it made her sad...

“What did you do...” Tanith approached her with uneven steps, as if she was drunk. “M-my dear Lord... Rykard...” Stumbling past her, she walked towards the severed head. The eyes of the serpent empty, staring into nothingness. The Lady of the manor put a shaking hand to the face, caressing over it and giving a small, mournful sound. Whilst Ranni felt some compassion for her, she still said coldly: “Twas a demise made by the hands of thee and him. Gluttonous greed for power.”

Without turning to even look at her, Tanith slowly mumbled: “My heart... always has been too meek. It was he, who gave me the fire to finally fight. He, who showed me just how sharp my fangs are.” She chuckled, as she no doubt remembered something. Taking off her mask, she pressed a kiss to the grotesque features of the former lord. “He gave me a chance to be who I was always meant to be.” There were tears rolling down her cheeks, before she took a deep breath and wiped them away. “No, I must thank you. Our Lord was yet weak. You have taught us that. But... defeat is not the end.”

“Tis done, Tanith. He wilt rise ne'er again, as death hath returned to these lands.” Ranni watched her intently, while also being wary of the Crucible Knight that was still standing nearby. His loyalty was almost admirable, as he stood by the shambles of his masters.

“He will rise again one day, stronger.” Convinced by her own words, Tanith nodded almost frantically. “Until then, I must do my part and stay the path. I... I must...” Weeping she slowly sank to her knees, still pressed against the remains of her Lord. Ranni watched her, feeling pity for her. She didn't want to imagine the pain the other woman was feeling right now.

As if brought forth by thinking about him, Constantine walked towards them. Their eyes met and the demigod smiled relieved at her husband. Though the smile faded somewhat, when she saw how he was still limping slightly. That was weird... usually, Grace would restore all of his body and erase all wounds.

--------------------------------------

Just one more hit. He was sure of it. One more hit and they would fell the Lord of Blasphemy.

Already sure of their victory, Constantine turned around to smile at his wife. She met his eyes with some worry in hers. He surely looked like shit, and truth be told he also felt like it. The end of the fight came no moment too early, as he was at his limit. If it had lasted any longer, he was sure he would've fainted before the final strike. But she didn't have to know and worry about him. So in a calm tone he said: “Told you I got your b-”

There was a tug at his neck and his world spun for a moment, before he hit the ground. He felt... nothing. Had he been hit? Before his brain had any chance to realize what had happened, he was already fading. The last thing he heard was Ranni crying out in horror.

Darkness.

Deep and endless darkness, enveloping him completely. Taking his memories, his being. Who was he again? ... Ah it didn't matter. Rest beckoned him. His weary mind all too eager to accept it. Oh he was so tired. Why had he struggled so long?

A light flickered in the darkness, a small golden spark that offered him another chance. But why should he accept it? He was tired, he wanted to rest. Let the cruel world continue on without him, he didn't care for it. As he was ready to sink into the darkness once more, a man's deep voice he had never heard before rang through his mind. “Not yet.” He remembered parts of himself. The promise he had made to Melina. The friends he had fought for this long time. And most importantly he remembered Ranni.

No, he couldn't just give up.

Constantine tasted dirt when he opened his eyes again, laying face first on the floor. Coughing and spitting out the sand, he sat up. He was back in the small cave, just before the big cavern that lead to Rykard. Risking a glance to his right, he saw the flickering remains of Grace. As if it was waving him goodbye, it twirled one last time, shining as bright as it never had before for him. And then... it was gone.

The message was clear. This was his last chance. There would be no more coming back from death next time. Wryly he grinned. “Thank you...” He didn't know who's voice he had heard, but he was sure that it saved him from succumbing to death.

When he got to his feet, he groaned in pain as he put weight on his right leg. There was no wound anymore, but it still hurt quite a bit. His ankle in particular. But he could walk, so he was quick to leave the small cave. He didn't know what he was expecting to see when he returned to the cavern, but it surely wasn't the decapitated body of Rykard. The edges of the wound were covered in white frost and it almost looked like the head had been just brutally ripped from its body. Tanith was kneeling before the severed head, her forehead pressed to it and her shoulders shaking as she cried.

Ranni noticed him and an immense feeling of guilt washed over him, when he saw how relieved she smiled at him as soon as she laid eyes on him. He had almost given up. Almost left her all by herself. How could he be this selfish?

“Constantine.” There was a slight frown when she noticed his limp. Carefully she reached out to cup his face with two hands. However, he flinched back when her skin touched his, as she was unbearably cold, to the point it hurt. She looked confused about his reaction and he quickly explained: “You are freezing cold.” A flash of understanding flitted across her features. “The cold magics pose a tendency of leaving me as cold as winter. Give it a few moments.” Obviously eager to digress from the topic, she asked: “Art thou hurt still? Thy gait seemed... unsteady.”

“I rolled my ankle on the way here”, he said quickly, just as eager to bury that topic. The fact he had to lie to her, to save her from worrying about him was enough to make him want to writhe in guilt. And apparently he wasn't really convincing, as she raised an eyebrow. “Thou'st... rolled thine ankle?” Doubtful she looked at him, but seemed to decide not to push further. “Thy clumsiness doth surprise me... but I am just glad thou art mostly unharmed.”

He was horrible. There was no other way to put it, he thought. A short moment long he considered telling her about his quarrel with Grace. To tell her about this new problem looming over him. But... he knew it would cause nothing but headache for her. And some part of him was convinced, that she'd immediately would try to deter him from tying up the loose ends in the Lands Between and urge him to return to the Erdtree for her ascension. After all, her agreement to his plan had been rather reluctant. Seeing the need for it, but also unwilling to sacrifice any more for it. He couldn't even begrudge her for it, as she had basically already given all she had for her plan.

His eyes directed towards Tanith, who was still sitting in front of the body of her husband and mourned his death, he couldn't help but imagine how Ranni would react to his parting. Left alone, without even knowing why. The demigod followed his gaze and sighed. “How I wished for this not to happen. Despite the monster he became... once, he hath been a good man.” Turning to walk towards Tanith, she muttered: “We should talk to her.” There was clear compassion in her voice.

Before thinking about it, he reached for her hand and stopped her for a second. Her skin was still terribly cold, but he didn't care. “I love you. You know that, right?” A hint of confusion was visible on her features, his sudden urgency a little bewildering. But apparently blaming it on the circumstances, she just smiled. “Of course I do.” Her smile became somewhat bashful. “And... I love you, too. My sweet fool.”

His heart clenched in his chest. Oh he was just a horrible piece of shit...

Chapter Text

“Leave.” Tanith's voice was hushed and yet harbored undeniable edge. Her hands, covered in the blood of her husband, were balled into fists and pressed to her thighs. Constantine saw her without her mask for the first time. A slim face with high cheekbones, her tanned skin unmarked by her age. Yet she seemed somewhat... tired. Maybe the atrocities that had been committed here still left marks, despite her feigned indifference.

“Tanith... He is gone.” Ranni folded her hands. “Naught can be done.”

“You're wrong. Like so often”, the proprietress answered coldly, not even looking over her shoulder to face them. “My Lord... he can live anew with my help. Just like he had by the Great Serpent.” Visibly shaking, she leaned forward and pressed her head against the carcass of her husband. “Dear Rykard, please find purchase within me. I wish to be your serpent; your family.” She drew in a deep breath, as if bracing herself for something. “One day, let us devour the gods together.”

When she first brought her lips close to Rykard's face, Constantine thought she gave him a kiss goodbye. But much to the horror of anyone present, she started biting into the scaly skin, ripping it apart and tearing it open. “Oh fuck...” The Tarnished wanted to puke upon hearing the visceral sounds of tearing flesh. Tanith retched, but kept on devouring her husband.

“Cease this madness”, Ranni commanded with clear horror audible in her voice. “Stars, thy mind as well?! Did my brother tear thee down with him?” She flinched, when Tanith just took another bite and ignored her. Disgusted she twisted her features.

The woman was beyond saving, just as twisted and delusional as her Lord. Constantine knew that nothing good would come from keeping her alive, as much as he hated the thought of killing an unarmed person. He looked over to the Crucible Knight, who was standing at attention and seemingly unfazed by the sight in front of him. Weighing up the difficulty of the fight he might face, he decided to spare Ranni from witnessing the bloodshed. Softly putting a hand to her shoulder, he leaned forward and whispered: “Go ahead. I will take care of this.”

She didn't answer immediately, clearly torn. Then she just sighed. “Make it quick.” When she turned to leave, Tanith finally stopped her chewing and mumbled: “If you are merciful, you will make him forget.” She threw a small vial to the demigod, who caught it with an expression of confusion. As if it had been nothing more than a short moment of clarity amid a storm of madness, the proprietress turned back to the task at hand. “Rather he forgets, than be left behind in painful memory...”

He didn't know what kind of concoction was in that vial, but his wife apparently did. Her gaze shortly fell onto him and he saw doubts in her eye. She then quickly shook her head, throwing away the potion. “That is a choice only he can make. Tis not mine to decide.” Towards Constantine, she ordered: “Put an end to this.” Without waiting a second longer, she turned around and left.

The Tarnished looked at the Crucible Knight, the spear he had used in his fight against Rykard firm in his hands. “I suppose you won't just walk away?” Of course all the iron clad man did was raise his sword and shield, preparing for a fight. All the while Tanith just continued devouring the remains.

The magical properties of the weapon gave him a clear advantage in this fight. Though the fight first seemed unbalanced - with one of the opponents clad in full brass armor and armed with an impressive longsword and heavy shield while the other was wearing naught but a pair of black trousers and wielded an ill-fitting spear – it was quickly apparent that the outcome was decided even before they had raised their weapons once.

The first torrent was enough to completely throw the Crucible Knight out of balance, sending him to the ground. Due to his heavy plate, he was almost too slow to get back up in time and evade the crushing swing of the spear. Aimed right at the neck, it would've been a swift death. Instead he managed to escape the strike, only to be caught in the next attack. The tip of the spear dug right between his ribs, piercing the brass with surprising ease. Constantine grunted, as he pushed the weapon right through the massive frame of his opponent.

The Crucible Knight meanwhile remained absolutely silent, even with the no doubt excruciating pain he was experiencing. Grabbing at the handle of the spear, he withdrew the weapon out of his chest with a flood of dark red blood following. Constantine couldn't help but notice how beautiful the crimson looked flowing over the polished brass, trickling over the ornate metal down to the ashy floor.

Despite his fatal wound, the knight refused to yield. Bound by duty, defending his mistress until his last breath. The swings he took with his sword were slightly uncoordinated, but no less powerful. Commendable. Idiotic. Constantine understood his opponent, but at the same time was determined to put an end to him. With a mighty torrent, followed by swift strike, he did just that. The sharp edged of the spears head sunk right into the gap between the chestplate and helmet of the knight. More crimson rivers flowed over the brass, as the throat of the towering man was opened. Finally he crumbled to the ground.

And Tanith diverted her attention from her disgusting task at last, sighing deeply. She stood up, turning towards him and meeting his eyes with ice cold determination. With the blood all over her face and front of her dress, she gave a truly chilling picture that nonetheless spoke of unyielding pride. “So not only the Erdtree lackeys were a threat apparently. My mistake was to ignore the hound of the Dark Moon. And I should've known better. Ranni always had been ruthless.”

Constantine scoffed. “You have no right to talk about her like that.”

Almost incidentally plucking a piece of gore from her dress, she chuckled. It wasn't filled with joy, or even mockery. It was the small chuckle of someone completely lost to madness. “You chose a cruel mistress, that perfectly embodies her little moon. Cold, dark and absolutely callous. Well, at least to those she deems acceptable casualties.”

“She sacrificed her own body for a chance of freedom. Not only for herself, but for the rest of us too! How dare you talk about her like that, when she is ready to sacrifice everything she knows!” Outraged he steadied his grip on the spear, angry on behalf of his wife. Tanith smirked. “Your devotion... it is so familiar. Like looking into a mirror.”

“I am not like you”, he scowled. She cocked her head. “Oh but you are. Loyal to a fault, simply because she has shown you something more. More than you alone could ever have hoped for. So you obey and follow, because losing this vision would mean losing everything.” Before he was able to interject, she said: “Ask her about Godwyn. Then you will see just how ruthless your mistress is.”

Constantine held his tongue. He knew that Godwyn had been the counterpart to Ranni's sacrifice on the Night of the Black Knifes. One of the two demigods to die. She in body, he in soul. Up until now he hadn't spared much thought on what it meant to have one's soul die while the body survived. Now though, he wondered just how cruel that fate truly was.

Spreading her arms in a welcoming manner, she smiled at him with bloodied lips. “But let us proceed, consort of the Dark Moon. Let's finish what you came here for. And witness for yourself,”, madness was shining brightly in her eyes, “that a serpent never truly dies.” The spear pierced her chest without much effort, opening her lungs and flooding them with blood. The woman gurgled on it, going to her knees while her hands held to the head of the spear. Her golden eyes refused to be averted from her killer, the madness persisting until the last moment. Constantine met the gaze with cold assertiveness, as he watched her die. There was no guilt in him. She didn't deserve it.

When he was sure she was dead, he pulled his weapon out of her chest. Though he would've preferred to just leave it behind, he also was smart enough to see that this was his only choice until he was reunited with his greatsword.

Now all by himself, he took a deep breath and looked towards the carcass of the former demigod. The dark scales shimmering in the red light of the fire all around them, Constantine wondered what had driven the man into such madness that he would accept this fate for himself. The Great Rune caught his eyes and the Tarnished couldn't help but think that this splinter of power probably had a part in the descent of Rykard.

When even Ranni – in his eyes one of the most strong minded people in the Lands Between - admitted that she had been affected by the allure of power the Runes posed, it wasn't too far fetched to imagine anyone less falling to it. As he accepted the Rune into his body, he swore that he would not succumb to the promise of power. He would use it to change the course of things, but not to further his own standing and grasp for control.

Ranni waited for him, features an unreadable mask of indifference. He didn't miss the flash of sadness in her eyes, when she spotted the fresh blood on the spear in his hand. “Tis done, I presume.”

Knowing her well enough to recognize she wasn't in the mood for talking about the things that had transpired, he only gave her a small nod. She started walking without another word and during their way back to the main building of the manor they exchanged near to no words. The unspoken emotions of her still were palpable, at least to him. Those small glances of regret and also anger... he knew she was wondering just like him, what had driven her brother over the edge into madness.

For Constantine, it was the first time he saw the big areal that lied behind the presentable facade of the manor. By now, he was no longer surprised of how much blood and gore was stacked everywhere. To see emaciated people shamble along the stone halls, more corpse than alive. One thing he noticed was the iconography of the snake, almost omnipresent in the ornaments throughout the manor. They seemed older than the front part of the manor, the stone withered and clearly marked by constant exposure to heat.

Ranni, always happy to share knowledge, explained at his observation: “My brother built his estate right above the old temple of a cult, lost long ago. He claimed scientific reason back then. Curiosity for the long past. Now it all seems so obvious, what his real reason hath been all along.”

Only few foes crossed their path, serpentine creatures with thin arms and legs. Their attacks were met by either the great spear the Tarnished was wielding or an icy spell. After felling one especially obnoxious specimen of those lanky creatures, Constantine smiled. “We make quite the team, hm?” His statement would earn him the soft smile he had been hoping for.

Leaving behind the true face of the manor and returning to the more inviting front of it, they were greeted by just another of those snake creatures. It was wearing a small green cape, fastened over her shoulders with an ornate silver chain. Eyes, clear intelligence visible in them, fixated them. But especially so Constantine. “Brave champion!”

The Tarnished stared at the creature, the voice familiar. Was that... Rya? Before he was able to utter one word, the girl continued: “The servants are in great distress. What happened?” She stopped and took a step back, her face surprisingly emote for a snake. “Is... is that blood on you?”

Still dumbstruck by what he saw, it was Ranni who spoke up first. “So this is thy true form?” Rya was obviously confused, before a flash of panic crossed her features and she hastily looked down herself. “Oh no... I... How dreadful. How dreadful indeed.” Taking another step back and warily eyeing the spear in his hands, she seemed about ready to bolt. Once more it was Ranni who spoke, her voice soft and reassuring. “Thou needst not be afeared. We mean no harm, now thy truth is laid bare.”

The slit pupils of the girl darted towards the demigod. “That is most graceful of you. Please excuse my distress, it is just... most people would not ask before attacking.” Still careful and on guard, she said: “I feel I should introduce myself proper. My true name is Zorayas. Please forgive my initial deception, but Lady Tanith asked of me to be careful with my true self, as people tend to be cruel and judge before knowing the whole truth. I am, however, proud of this form. You must know, I was born by the grace of a great king. So my mother, Lady Tanith, told me.”

Constantine understood immediately and so did Ranni, as she sighed with sorrow and shook her head. “That accursed oaf... Not enough he would throw himself into depravity.” A bit of disgust sneaked into her features. “I do not want to imagine just what... urgh.”

“You sound like you know who my father is”, the naive girl clutched her hands before her chest. While he was unsure if it was the right thing to tell the girl the truth about her heritage, his wife didn't seem to have those apprehensions. In her usual way of speaking, even and betrayed of most emotions, she said: “Thy father is no king. A charlatan, posing as a being of strong mind and will. His craven heart the cause of so much suffering, I am ashamed to call him brother.”

“But... My mother would not lie to me! Lady Tanith never would deceive me like that!” Outraged she glared at the demigod in front of her. Ranni looked almost like she was pitying her. “In an effort to protect them, parents often doom their children. Despite personal quarrels I had with her... I doubt Tanith's words were spoken with ill intend.” When Zorayas only narrowed her eyes and still didn't seem willing to accept the words of her, the demigod pointed towards the small hallway laying behind them that would lead into the bloody bowels of the manor. “If thou yet art unwilling to accept my words, then see. Set thine eyes upon what it is thy mother hath been hiding from thee.”

“Ranni...” Constantine mumbled quietly, unsure if it was right to subject the poor thing to the cruel truth. But he was ignored. “Thou needst not to walk down the path of thy parents. Set thine own. And should doubts trouble thee... head to the estate in the north-western side of Liurnia. Seek out Queen Rennala. She is wise and might have answers to some of thy turmoil.”

“But why would Lady Tanith lie to me?” The girl was on the verge of tears, which looked quite weird in her serpent form. Feeling sorry for her, Constantine carefully said: “Ranni speaks the truth, Rya.”

The jaw of the girl quivered, before she snapped it shut in a sudden motion. “I have to see for myself. Because if it is the truth you are speaking... then I will find the answers I have been searching for a long time now. Even if it is not what I have been told since I can remember, I want to know were I came from.” Determined she nodded, her fists balled and obviously trying hard to not let herself be overwhelmed by doubts. “But... I will remember your advice, Lady Ranni.”

Dignified the demigod tilted her head. “Tell the queen I've sent you. She will treat thee well, I am sure of that.”

Zorayas was about to leave, when the Tarnished hastily inquired: “Wait. Do you know where our gear is?” She smiled slightly. “I had your armor brought to your room. As far as I know, the rest of your belongings should be there as well.” Before continuing on her way, she added: “I bid you safe travel, brave champion. You too, Lady Ranni. May our paths cross again some day.”

Watching her leave, Constantine leaned towards his wife. “Do you think she will be alright?”

Ranni shook her head. “It remains to be seen. How the revelations she is about to gain will change her... tis up to her. But it is hers to decide on what path she wilt treat at the end of it all.” She smiled up at him. “Now, let us retrieve our armaments and then leave this accursed place behind. I long for fresh air.” He couldn't agree more.

They split up, with her waiting for him while he made way to the room they had spent the night in. He almost expected an ambush, but when he opened the wooden door all that awaited him behind it was an empty room. All looked just like the evening before. It was hard to believe it had been only a few hours, with all that had happened.

His armor was placed on the desk, the black plate shimmering beautifully even in the sparse light. First putting his tunic back on, he wished he had asked Ranni to accompany him and help him put on his armor. Though used to putting his armor on by himself from his weeks of travel in solitude on the roads of the Lands Between, he still appreciated assistance. And his previous armor had been simple, whereas this set was quite complicated to put on by himself with all its buckles and straps. In the end he managed though, risking a short glance in the mirror. He looked good.

Strapping his beloved Dark Moon Greatsword over his back, he sighed content. Carefully he leaned the spear against the desk. Now that he had his weapon back, he had no need for it anymore. Before leaving the room for good, he lastly picked up the Sword of Night and Flame for his wife. For the first time he had a chance to properly inspect the weapon, marveling at the beautifully ornate design of it. Especially the blade itself was magnificent, worked with an almost ridiculous intricacy. It almost felt like an insult to it when he put it back into its sheath.

He found his wife standing in front of the portrait of her past self. Her features seemed neutral, though there was also a small hint of disdain visible. When she noticed him approaching, she pointed towards the portrait with a small scoff. “I stood for that one on my twentieth birthday. How unbothered I had been once... heh. All I did burden my thoughts with then were trivialities. And an inflated sense of self-importance.” Shaking her head, she muttered: “Canst thou imagine... In young years I even felt flattered. Being chosen both by the Dark Moon and the Greater Will. Oh, I thought, surely I had to be so very special if both were courting for mine attention. Foolish girl.”

Constantine remained quiet, knowing she wasn't looking for any reaffirming words but rather just an ear that would listen to her rant. Ranni continued: “Thou'st asked me back in Raya Lucaria, if I regret mine actions. And I promised thee an answer.” Frowning deeply at the picture of herself, she folded her hands in her usual way. A mechanism of hers, he had learned, to ground herself. “I regret not what I did. But... the reason for why I did it doth fill me with regret. It hath changed with the passing of time, but initially... I did it for none but myself. Unwilling to accept that anyone but myself would dictate what I did. How could anyone dare to impose rule over me, Lunar Princess Ranni?” Disdain returned to her features. “I was so full of myself, no care for anyone crossed my mind in that moment.”

“But your reasoning changed?” He couldn't deny that he felt a small spike of disappointment in his chest when hearing her speak like that. People had warned him about the selfish nature of his wife, but he just never had seen that side of her. And maybe she no longer was like she used to be, but once she apparently very much matched the picture painted by the people he had talked to.

Avoiding his gaze, she looked towards the ground. “Of course. It wasn't all too long after the Night of the Black Knifes that I would stumble over mine own hubris. And it was after all I saw, that I knew that the path I treat was not only mine. That I had to continue on it, lest it be a vain act of spite.” Slowly raising her head, she carefully asked: “What makest thou of the information I shared with thee?”

Weighing his words, he remained silent for a long minute. He knew his silence was tormenting her, but he nonetheless wanted to be sure that what he said weren't just some words spoken in shortsighted emotion. “I cannot deny that I'm slightly disappointed. However... it lies in the past. And you came around to see beyond your own interests.” His features softened. “As things are now, I admire your selfless resolve. You were ready to embark into hundreds of years in darkness and loneliness... I doubt many would make such a sacrifice, just so others could have a better life.”

“Admire... Wouldst thou say that even now? I allowed a bond to blossom between us, knowing full that it would mean eternal darkness for thee. Damning thee to share my fate. Merely because my selfish heart was unwilling to part with thee.” She raised a hand to rest on his chestplate. “The tonic Tanith wanted to give me... tis to make the person drinking it forget. And for a short moment, I really wondered if it would not be the right thing to offer thee such mercy.”

“I will not leave your side, for nothing. And besides... You really tried to shake me off, remember? In truth, it was my selfish heart that just didn't want to miss you. So don't credit yourself for my own stubborn resolve.” He chuckled and she reluctantly joined in. Sighing slightly, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. “I love you for who you are, Ranni. And your past is part of that. But it does not define it. I will follow you, no matter how dark the abyss and how great the challenges awaiting. We will face it together.” He pressed the Sword of Night and Flame into one of her hands. “Now come, let us go. There is still work ahead of us, and I can't wait for our journey to the stars. Just you and I.”

“How... How canst thou be so kind, despite all thou hast learned?” Puzzled she stared at him and he just grinned. “I told you, I reserve that facet of myself only to those deserving of it. Make of that what you will, my Lady.” Remembering how Tanith had compared his devotion to her own blind loyalty, he almost scoffed bitterly. Maybe she had been right... Looking into the blue eye of his wife, he knew that this was different. Because where Rykard was only thinking about himself and his own gain, Constantine knew he could rely on Ranni. Behind her mask of aloof indifference, she cared very much about him and just like him was ready to fight for him. Kill for him. No, this was nothing like the relationship of Rykard and Tanith.

Joining him on his way out of the manor, she mused: “If I learned one thing about thee during our travels thus far, then that thou'rt even more dogged than I gave credit before.” He chuckled at that and shrugged his shoulders. “Oh well, just another point that shows how well we match. Because I happen to travel with the most stubborn demigod of them all.”

“Me? Dogged? Pah, the audacity of a stubborn donkey!” Allowing herself to join in his jest, she theatrically rolled her eye. Constantine grinned. “You call me a stubborn donkey. What shall I call you? A grumpy, temperamental cat?”

“Hmm, how about a vexed wife? A vexed wife that is about ready to poke her husband with her sword should he continue risking his luck.” At her playful gaze, he laughed and pulled her close to him. “Oh, that does indeed sound scary.”

“We should head towards the Consecrated Snowfields next. There lieth a portal that will lead us to the Haligtree, where we will find Malenia.” He was slightly disappointed their banter ended, but he also saw the need to speak about their next destination. “So from unbearable heat to freezing cold. At least we have variety.”

Chapter Text

The desolate speck of the Lands Between that lied between the golden capital and the elevator of Rold was usually almost unnaturally quiet. Not even a stray bird would dare to sing its song here, the unspoken danger of the land palpable. Only few dared treading here, among them the men of the vulgar militia. They were deeply unsettling foes, their spiteful giggling upon encountering some new potential victims seemingly coming from all directions in the foggy landscape.

It wasn't the first time Constantine encountered them, so he knew what he had to look out for. Their bothersome incantations still managed to lure a few curses out of him when he only barely evaded them. Even greater was his satisfaction when he was able to easily cleave the small men into two with just one swing of his sword. Maybe he should feel guilty causing such carnage... but he had seen too much gore and blood by now, its sight barely luring more than a disgusted grimace out of him.

“So, are you going to tell me how we get to those Snowfields you mentioned? Is there some hidden path I missed on my first time here?” Constantine looked up to Ranni who was sitting atop Torrent, riding side saddle. Her eye sparked in the constant twilight all around them when she looked at him. “Thou wilt see, my Lord.”

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “You just love to keep up the suspense.”

“A guilty pleasure of mine”, she admitted with a grin. “What is life without a little mystery?” A hint of mischief sneaking into her voice, she added: “Besides, thine expressions of surprise are always delightful. I would not want to bereave myself of that sight by spoiling it.”

Bemused he chuckled and shook his head. “To think my wife is that conniving.” When a cool hand caressed over his head, he smiled happily.

Their journey back to the capital had been a somber one. Ranni still was obviously shook from the revelations at Volcano Manor, which left her even more unwilling to start conversations. Her husband mostly left her to her thoughts, aware there was little he could do. Though he made sure to always stay close to her those two days, at least making her aware she wasn't alone in all of it. And judging by her soft smiles and tender caresses throughout their journey, she very much appreciated it.

There was a kind of familiarity settling between them. An understanding of the other and their peculiarities. It went far beyond the almost blind infatuation they still had with each other. To Constantine, this felt right. To know that Ranni wasn't just that aloof, powerful demigod princess that could probably wipe his existence with the flick of a hand. But that she was also that easily irked, sometimes even vulnerable woman that longed for nothing more than freedom.

And he was set on helping her achieve that. Not only for herself, but also for the rest of the Lands Between. As they inched ever closer to the end of their journey, he started to wonder more and more how these lands would fare without their divine chains. It was almost a shame, that they wouldn't be around to see the results of their work.

The structure of the grand lift became visible through the fog and Ranni nimbly climbed out of Torrent's saddle. Ruffling his mane once, she continued inside. Constantine received a soft nudge from his long-time companion and with a grin he fed Torrent some Rowa raisins. Upon finishing his treat and nudging his Tarnished once more for good measure, he disappeared into the spirit realm.

Each step they took disrupted the thick layer of ash on the ground. The wind carried the ash of the burning Erdtree all over the land, but this close to the source it was especially present. While she was not affected by it, Constantine was soon left annoyed with how his eyes and throat burned. The constant sneezing didn't help either. To counter the irritation at least somewhat, he had a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face, to cover his mouth and nose. Ranni had commented how menacing he looked like that, especially in combination with his hood pulled deep to protect his eyes.

As they entered the building that harbored the lift, Ranni took off her hat to dust some of the ash from the brim. “Give me a moment. It hath been a faring while since last I've been here.”

“So that's why you were so reticent. You weren't sure yourself how it worked.” Pulling down his scarf, he grinned at her. She threw a scolding gaze towards him, clearly not appreciating his comment. “Shush.” Climbing up the stairs, she put her hat back on. “Tis not that I do not know, but rather that the details are blurry. Might I remind thee, that despite my youthful spirit, I have seen centuries pass. So to recall a single memory in this well of experiences I harbor is not as easy as thou thinkest.”

Following her, he only said: “I wonder how old I am actually. Do you think you married a youngling that has a thing for older women?” Realizing that he spoke before thinking, as soon as she turned around with a raised eyebrow, he quickly cleared his throat. “N-not that there is anything wrong with age! I... With age... I mean wine... I should shut up...”

“The first wise words coming out of thy mouth today.” He saw the smile tugging at her lips, so at least he knew she wasn't mad with him. Constantine was glad she wasn't taking herself too serious all the time. Else he'd be a pile of frozen chunks by now, he was sure.

While Ranni got to work activating the secret mechanism, he took the time to eat something little. Just some stale bread and cured meat, like almost all throughout his journey. At least the bread wasn't moldy, an experience he had already made. Something about eating around a moldy spot just was especially depressing, even for the standards of a Tarnished.

Washing his sad meal down with some water, he watched his wife pace between the two statues placed on the platform of the lift. Perfumers, their beautifully embroidered aprons depicted in such detail it one could be fooled to think it was actually cloth and not stone. Both were holding a sacrificial twig in one hand that crossed in the middle of the platform. Constantine had used this lift once, to get to the Mountaintops of the Giants.

“I could've sworn... Hmm, no no, not there... Lest... Hmmmmmmm.” Ranni mumbled to herself, her expression slowly turning from one of thought to one of irritation. Of course she would be irked when confronted with a riddle she could not solve. Finally she sighed exhausted and propped two fists into her hips, while she put the other two towards her temples. He wondered if she was actually capable of developing a headache in her doll-body.

“Do you need help?”, he offered, but she made a dismissive gesture with one of her hands. “Nay, rest. I... just need to recall. There hath been a lever, just about... Ha, got it!” Triumphantly she grinned, when she looked underneath the pedestal one of the sculptures was standing on. Her grin turned from triumphant, to confused, before it vanished completely. “It doth not move.”

“Are you sure you don't need my help?” Oh he was playing with fire and he was completely aware of it. But something about the little irritated twitch in the corner of her mouth amused him greatly. When she threw a burning gaze towards him, only to be met by his innocent smile, she pressed out between grit teeth: “Yes. Yes I am certain.” He was certain she would be red in the face by now if there were still blood coursing through her.

Constantine leaned against the railing of the lift, desperately trying to suppress the laugh that tried to force its way out, as he watched Ranni lose her composure more and more. Her movements more and more agitated, her brow furrowed and her eye sparking with anger.

“Damned... stubborn... Move, you little.. Ah fuck!” Enraged she kicked against the sculpture, which resulted in a loud click echoing through the structure. The sound of stone grinding over stone was deafening; the two statures of the perfumers turning away from each other. A stark jolt shook the platform, before it started to move. Unlike the first time Constantine had used the lift, it didn't move up but down.

Ranni looked slightly dumbfounded, before she shrugged her shoulders. “I remembered the mechanism to be a little more... sophisticated. But well, one cannot argue with results.”

Constantine burst out laughing. “Such foul language out of your mouth!”

“We will not talk further about this”, she determined, hastily lowering her head to cover her features with her hat. He laughed louder. “Oh but I'd love to.” His gait was relaxed, when he approached her. All the while the lift descended further, the light around them becoming sparse.

She avoided his gaze, jaws pressed tight together. “Don't be mad at me.” Wrapping his arms around her, he saw her features soften immediately. Once he started gently caressing over her back, she groaned annoyed. “Argh... Just be happy thou'st those accursed puppy-eyes. Lest I'd thrown thee off the lift.”

“I love you too”, he chuckled and she joined in, finally leaning into him. “My sweet fool.” She kissed him tenderly, a stark contrast to the enraged state she had been in a few moments ago. He had a way of calming her like no other. Though he also knew exactly how to rile her up just as well.

She didn't break their kiss, even when the lift finally came to a stop. Maybe it was to make up for her distance the past two days, though he didn't begrudge her for that. A few more kisses were exchanged, before she finally took a step back and corrected her hat that was sitting slightly crooked on her head. After she was sure it sat in place, she hesitantly said: “Thy beard is... tickling.”

“Should I shave it?” He ran a hand over his facial hair, but she shook her head. “I do like it. It... It feels nice.” Clearing her throat – he was sure she only did it to distract from her embarrassment whenever she opened herself – she turned towards the inconspicuous wooden door in front of them. “Now, lest thou art planning on setting up camp here, we shall make haste. Night is almost upon us and we have quite the way ahead of us before we can rest safely.”

“I'm right at your side, my Lady. Always.” His warm smile was met with a tender gaze. “And I'm at thine, my Lord.”

--------------------------------------

“Ranni?”, Constantine called out, his eyes squinted in an effort to spot his wife. They had lost each other somewhere in the dense snowstorm that had greeted them as soon as they left the small catacomb. At least it was apparent why this place was called a snowfield... though so far he didn't see anything consecrated about it. In fact he could barely see his own hands when he held them up to his face.

The wind blew new snow into his face and with a hiss of discomfort he turned his head. The cold was seeping through his armor and clothes, making him shiver in the constant assault of the weather. The snow wasn't the worst, though. Of course there would be enemies, using the storm as cover to ambush them.

When a hand closed around his arm, he quickly twirled around with his sword at the ready. Ranni evaded the swing of the blade gracefully, as if she almost expected him to react like that. Constantine was mortified. “Oh Grace! Say something and don't just sneak up on me! I could've hurt you!” She looked unimpressed. “The storm should clear up a little further ahead. Keep thy guard up... We are being watched.”

His heart still thumping wildly in his chest, he tried to spot anything through the wall of snow but without success. There was... something. He knew instinctively, his weeks on the road sharpening his senses and feeling for danger. The fine hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end and the uncanny feeling of imminent danger was sitting heavy in the pit of his stomach. His brow furrowed, he tightened his grip around his sword. “Just... Please stay close to me.” His wife nodded and he didn't miss how she had one hand on the hilt of her sword. Whatever it was lurking in the storm, it unsettled even her.

Now side by side, they continued their painfully slow way through the snowstorm. Both of them on high alert, they set each step in expectation of an ambush. Just as the snowstorm became less intense and Constantine started to hope they would get out of this situation unscathed, he saw the outline of something through the snow. At almost the same moment, he heard a “thud” and Ranni curse.

First he wanted to scream when looking over to her, seeing the arrow stick out of her chest just where her heart would be. While he was almost fainting from the sight, she merely clicked her tongue and pulled the arrow out of her body like it was nothing. “Bothersome...” Drawing her catalyst and sending a spell towards the source of the attack, she mumbled: “Constantine... some assistance?”

Finally breaking through his mortified paralysis, he shook his head and rushed ahead. Of course she was alright... A normal weapon could not wound her. It was still slightly disturbing, to see her shake off something that would end any other person.

Their assailant was a young woman, riding a dire wolf. She held the longbow with firm hands and loosened another arrow as soon as she spotted him. Her pale features were marked by an expression of grim determination. She was ready to fight to the death, to guard these lands.

The arrows didn't manage to pierce through his armor and as soon as she saw her attack miss, the woman spurred her canine companion to jolt ahead. The wolf jumped towards Constantine, massive fangs bared and more likely to pierce the metal. However, the thick fur of the creature didn't protect it from his blade. The Dark Moon Greatsword cut through the air, the motion of its wielder controlled and fast.

The head of the wold tumbled to the ground and with it the rest of the duo. The woman wailed when she hit the ground, her bow slipping out of her hands. It didn't seem to bother her much though, as her focus solely lied on her dead companion. She didn't get up, nor did she try to reach for her weapon. Instead she just... stared. Mortified and utterly shocked. Her voice weak and shaky, she whispered: “You've killed him... You...” Pale gray eyes seemed to pierce right through him. “Murderer.” Something about the way she said that word... it shook something in him.

Ranni approached the woman, her catalyst raised and ready to end the woman. In a harsh motion, Constantine pushed it down and glared at her. “She is unarmed.”

First looking slightly surprised at his volatile reaction, she freed her wrist from his grip and raised her stave again. A Glintstone Shard hit the woman, right in the neck and ripping open her throat. Her blood, silvery and shimmering faintly, mixed with the deep red of the wolf.

Constantine frowned at Ranni. “That was unnecessary!”

“She would've reached for her bow, as soon as we turned our backs on her”, she answered evenly and her husband only scoffed. “Then we should've taken the bow with us!”

“Thou'st slain her companion. Without it, she hath been as good as dead anyways.” Her raised eyebrow irritated him. “How can you be so sure?”

She pursed her lips in disapproval when she saw his accusatory gaze. “She is Albinauric. Dost thou know what that portenth? Without her wolf, she is unable to move, as her legs ceased to function. That is the fate all Albinaurics face... at least the first generation. Twas a miscalculation of their creators. One they sought to correct... though bereaving them of most of their intellect in the process.”

“It's easier to control them that way”, he spat with clear disgust. A deep blue eye fixated him in its gaze. “I do not condone the horrid treatment the Albinaurics had to endure, Constantine. But bloodshed is necessary at times. I rather see her dead, than thee with an arrow in thy back.” Even when he averted his gaze, to look at the dead woman, she continued: “House Caria never tolerated the discrimination of the weak. Know that never once have I allowed such cruelty.”

“Beneath the moon, all are equal hmm?” He sighed and turned. “You're right about the necessity of her death. Let's just go... I'm freezing.”

“Tis not always easy, to do what is necessary. But... we do not have the luxury to hesitate. We have come too far for that.” Her expression was unreadable, as she turned to leave. “To tread the path of freedom... it demandeth that some sacrifices are inevitable. I wish not for it to be so, but we cannot save all.”

She was right. Of course she was. He didn't know himself why the sole death of this one Albinauric was bothering him so, but something about it felt so unjust. Maybe it was his weary mind finally cracking under the pressure and amount of blood he had already spilled? Or was it her accusation? Most of his enemies didn't spare many words despite some crude insults thrown at him.

Their way continued through the snowstorm, though it had died down significantly by this point. Finally able to see a little further ahead, he saw a wide areal opening before them. There was a river, frozen completely still, cutting through the opening and leading towards a massive ravine. There were trees in the distance, their barks covered in frost and snow. The sun that broke through the clouds reflected on the snow, the brightness stinging in Constantine's eyes.

“We should look for a place to set up camp”, he said after a while, breaking through the slightly tense silence between them. At this point he was frozen to the core, his feet hurting and almost numb. He needed to warm himself on a fire and eat a proper meal. Ranni nodded. “Of course. We ought to seek proper shelter from the wind. There are many caves to be found in the ravine not too far. We only need to follow the river.”

He knew she didn't care about the wind and that she mainly had him and his comfort in mind with her suggestion, so of course he went along. There was still some guilt lingering in the pit of his stomach for the way he had snapped at her. She had been undeserving of his frustration. Trying to find a good way to start the conversation to apologize, he kicked a small pebble and watched it glide over the frozen surface of the river.

As they made their way towards the ravine, he used the opportunity to pick up some twigs for the campfire. He stuck them under his left arm, while he kept his swordarm free to react in case of an attack. Ranni had been right, there were quite a few caves in the brittle stone of the ravine, offering shelter from the freezing wind. Most of them were too shallow to serve as a campsite, though. They decided to set up camp in a cave that was obviously leading deeper down.

The carcass of a dragon was caught in the ice, only partially visible due to its frozen shut watery grave. Ranni eyed the creature. “Quite the daring interior decoration for our temporary abode.”

“Should we look for another place?”, he offered, but she shook her head. “Lest thou'st quarrels with it, I do not mind. Besides, I doubt we might find a better place.” Since he had no further objections – he desperately wanted to start a fire to warm his bones – he started building the campfire with the twigs he had collected. Enough to comfortably last them throughout the night.

Watching him built their camp, she diverted her attention for a moment to look down at her self, clicking her tongue with dissatisfaction when she saw the hole in her dress where the arrow had pierced her body. “Oh now that is just great.”

“I can fix that”, he offered while rummaging through his pouch to find his flint stones.

“Thou art proficient with the needle?” She sounded genuinely surprised and he shrugged his shoulders. “I can't sew you a new dress, but I can repair a hole. It's a skill you have to learn when you only have two pair of underwear and no way of getting new ones.” Finally finding the stones, he got to lighting the bit of dried moss in the center of the campfire. “To fix your dress, you would have to get out of it first...” A little suggestive smirk danced around his lips. “I'd be of course more than willing to help you with that as well.”

“Cheeky. I might come back to thine offer to repair my dress, though”, she snickered and he grinned, before returning to his task at hand.

Constantine sighed relieved, when the flames started to strengthen and hungrily gnawed on the wood. Huddling as close to it as he could without running the risk to burn himself, he took a deep breath. As the feeling returned to his toes and fingertips, Ranni said: “Be careful. Frostbite hath a nasty habit of making one numb to the heat until tis too late.”

“Speaking from experience?” When she sat down close besides him, her leg touching his, she answered: “Tis remarkable I ne'er lost a finger during my youth, when practicing my magic. Though, there were a few close calls.” She chuckled. “Oh how Blaidd cursed me out when I once returned from my tutor with unfeeling hands and shaking like a freezing pup.”

“The snow crone?” Curious he looked over to her, his hands firmly around his cup of tea. Obviously reminiscing, she nodded with a smile. “Yes. She was a good tutor. Strict and language so foul it would make the most vulgar fisherman blush, but also wise and uncompromisingly honest. She taught me to call upon the power of the Dark Moon... though she also taught me to be wary of that power.”

“How comes you didn't learn under your mother?” It was curious that she would learn under anyone else, seeing that Queen Rennala was generally perceived to be one of the – if not the – strongest sorcerers in the Lands Between.

The question made her hesitate. “At first, I did. As heir to the throne of Caria, I was introduced to the moon sorceries at a young age and as to be expected of someone of my blood, I exceeded at mastering them. Whilst she did not cuss as much, my mother still was no lenient teacher either. Her expectations in me were high and she tolerated no idleness. Of course, that all changed with the day my father left for Leyndell.” Her features darkened somewhat, as she clearly remembered not so happy times. “On that day I not only lost my father, but also a part of my mother. She tried to not let her grieve shine through the surface... but she would never be the same again. It only worsened with the passing of years...”

Constantine couldn't imagine how it must've been for her. To one day have a complete family, just to have it shattered apart the next. Since he didn't remember anything about his own past, let alone his childhood, he wondered how she felt. Judging by the forlorn gaze she had while looking into the flames, he was pretty certain she mostly felt pain and betrayal.

Noticing how he looked at her, she quickly said: “It all lieth in the past. No use in dwelling in hurtful memories.” He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “You don't have to continue... but if you want to, I'll dwell with you.”

Ranni sighed with a faint smile, leaning into his touch. “Mayhaps...” She was cut off, when a sound reached them. It came from the bowels of the cave, a faint sound of footsteps and the rustling sound of either feathers or fabric. Immediately on high alert, Constantine reached for his sword and jumped to his feet. Eyes directed towards the source of the sounds, he waited with baited breath for anything to happen.

As minutes passed without anything happening, he slowly lowered his sword. Ranni, at first glance absolutely calm, quietly said: “We should seek for a new place to rest.” While he agreed with her that this was no good place to rest anymore, he also had an inexplicable urge to continue deeper into the cave. It reminded him of the pull Grace once had on him, that invisible leash dragging him on and leading him despite him being unwilling to follow.

A short glance towards his wife was enough to convey his feelings. She sighed, knowing that look well enough by now. “Oh curse thee and thy curiosity.”

Chapter Text

A pillar of ice pressed into his back, as Constantine forced his way through a narrow crevasse deeper into the cave. Their first impression of the cavern had been underestimating it by quite some bit, the tunnels running far deeper than anticipated. And what at first seemed like a inhospitable hole soon turned out to be a real nest of Misbegotten. The creatures weren't really pleased over the unbidden intruder in their home.

Ranni had at first tried to talk him out of exploring the depths of the cave. When that didn't work, she offered to join him in his undertaking, but he declined. Her protest was kept short, when he brought up the unavoidable spelunking that awaited them ahead. Despite her obvious care for her husband, the prospect of climbing down some damp cave and scrape the porcelain of her skin over ice was enough to deter her and trust in his skills to get along by himself.

Now, left with nothing but the Misbegotten to keep him company, he proceeded on his way to the center of the cave. And after some more climbing and jumping he finally found it. A single foe awaited him here, one of those Misbegotten with those uncanny faces that were too close to human. A red mane framing its face, it eyed the intruder with open hatred. A Greatsword was in its right and at first Constantine was slightly surprised by the design of it.

The weapon was beautiful, shining in the tell-tale golden light of the Golden Order. He wondered how a weapon of such make landed down here, in the bowels of some godforsaken cave at the fringes of the Lands Between. In the hands of a Misbegotten, creatures spurned by Grace and by extension the Golden Order.

“Nice sword you have there. Who did you kill to get it?” Constantine didn't expect an answer, he wasn't even sure if the creature understood his words. To his surprise, the Misbegotten snarled: “I spilled no blood. It was a gift, I received to protect my kin from the likes of you. Of course a Tarnished would think me nothing more than a beast, dull and simple as your kind is.” Its voice was a mixture of a growl and deep rumble.

Still taken aback, he raised his eyebrows. Before he could mutter any more words, the Misbegotten started attacking him. It used the sword with a steady and practiced hand, keeping the Tarnished in the defensive. Backing away from a stab directed towards his abdomen, he finally had enough room to find his footing and go into the offensive himself.

They traded blows, both out to land that one fatal blow that would end the other. Constantine was a little faster with his sword, perfectly adapted to fighting with the heavy weapon. So it was him that first broke through the defense of his opponent, the blade cutting deep into the side of the Misbegotten. It growled in pain, but then did something that took him completely by surprise. In a way he had only seen with Tarnished of faith that used incantations, the creature struck a pose of the Golden Order. One arm stretched out to his side, with the other lining up across its chest.

A wave of golden energy knocked him off his feet and made him land hard on the ice. The energy, derived from Grace and the Greater Will itself, sent a painful rumble through his organs and ripped the air out of his lungs. In a flowing motion the Misbegotten went out of the pose into a twirl that threw an arc of golden energy towards him. Scrambling to roll to the side just in time, Constantine was almost cut in two by the incantation. A talking, incantations using Misbegotten... this creature was nothing like the rest of its kind.

Despite throwing its opponent off balance, the Misbegotten was still at a disadvantage with the gaping wound in its side; losing copious amounts of blood. In the end, the outcome of this fight was already determined from the moment Constantine managed to land his hit. But of course the Misbegotten would not yield, set on fighting until the death.

Its motions a lot less dexterous than at the beginning, it still fought well but eventually lacked the strength to contest with the Tarnished. With one clean strike Constantine lopped the head off the Misbegotten, putting an end to their fight.

Taking a few deep breaths, the pain of the holy damage he had received still lingering in his bones, he leaned forward to pick up the golden greatsword. It felt somewhat familiar in his hand, the weight pretty much similar to his Darkmoon Greatsword. As the golden light the sword gave off reflected in his eyes, he wondered who this blade once belonged to.

Constantine decided to take the sword with him. Though he didn't plan on replacing his weapon, he figured it couldn't hurt to take the blade along. Be it only to sell it for some Runes. He was sure a sword this pretty and with a weapon art this powerful would fetch a nice sum.

His way back out of the cave was slightly more straining, not only because he had to climb up a lot more than on his way in, but also because of the additional weight he carried with him. By the time he finally returned to Ranni, he was tired and shaking heavily from the cold. His wife stood by the entrance to the cave, her gaze fixed on the sky. Daylight was fading quickly now, nightfall would be upon them soon.

Noticing his return, she turned towards him. “So, didst thou quell thy curiosity? Found treasures the likes only legends talk about?” Of course there was some mockery in her voice and he rolled his eyes. “Just gloat.”

“Don't mind if I do”, she grinned, before tilting her head slightly. “Though... It appeareth thou'st found a new sword.”

He drew the golden sword, shrugging his shoulders. “I don't plan on using it, but I figured we could sell it when we run into a nomad. They're like magpies, buying anything that is shiny.” He saw how the lighthearted expression faded from her face when she looked at the sword. Instead it was replaced by... anger? “Ranni?”

She didn't answer, instead she just turned and left, leaving her slightly dumbfounded husband behind. He figured her sudden shift in mood was because of that sword, but he didn't know why. Did he say something stupid? Quickly he followed her out of the cave, catching up to her and putting a hand to her shoulder. “What's wrong?”

She shook his hand off. “I do not wish to talk about it. Let us just find a new place to rest.” While she stormed on, he remained standing with his arms crossed. “I can't help if you don't talk to me.”

Twirling around in a harsh motion, she glared at him. “What had thee think I require thy help?” As soon as she snapped at him, he saw the anger leave her face and shame creep onto her features. With a deep sigh he buried her face in two of her hands. “I... Forgive me. Thou shouldst not be the one receiving mine ire.” Lifting her head, she mumbled: “Please, can we just continue?” The hurt in her voice was undeniable and as soft as he could he said: “Talk to me, my love.”

Looking to the side, clearly avoiding his eyes, she wrung the lower set of her hands. “That blade... It once belonged to my father. I remember it looking differently, but there is no mistaking it. Tis the blade he received from mother, as symbol of their vow.” There was a slight tremble in her voice. “And he discarded it, just like he hath mother.”

“Oh...” Constantine understood and a feeling of anger crept up on him. He couldn't understand what drove the second Elden Lord to abandon his family just like that and he didn't strive to ever do. But to see the pain it still caused Ranni made him furious. How could Radagon trample over the feelings of the people closest to him without hesitation? Even just imagining, to throw away the sword Ranni has gifted him as a symbol of their union, made him want to hate himself. The sheer disrespect at play made him wish to go to the capital this instance and ram his sword into the chest of the current Elden Lord.

Still not looking at him, she mumbled: “His deeds were bad as is... but I thought he had at least some remorse...” Turning to continue walking, she quietly added: “But in the end, he hath always been just the hound of the Greater Will. We never truly mattered to him.”

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A twig in their campfire broke with a small crack, sending embers flying towards the sky. It was the only sound that broke through the uneasy silence that took hold between them. They set up camp in a small wood, after walking for a few hours. It seemed Ranni just wanted to get as much distance between herself and that cave.

One of the big trees was giving them cover from both the wind and eventual ambushes. After some effort, Constantine was able to collect enough twigs for a fire and even managed to shoot a small rabbit that had crossed his path. Glintstone Shards weren't just practical in combat, but also definitely useful to secure a filling meal. After skinning, gutting and preparing the rabbit with some of the dried herbs he carried in Torrent's saddle bag, he was now waiting for the meat to fully cook over the flames. He used that opportunity to clean some of the muck off his shoes.

Torrent, ever eager for some treats, laid close to Ranni who usually always was quick to feed some Rowa raisins to him. Now though, she barely acknowledged the steed, not even sparing a single second to pet him. And obviously that irked the steed, as he disappeared after an indignant huff of righteous disappointment. Even this she only noted with a small forlorn smile.

Constantine watched his wife who sat across from him at the campfire, her expression mostly neutral, though by now he knew her well enough to see that she was still mulling over her thoughts. She was back to her quiet self, not initiating any conversation.

“He's an arse”, Constantine tried cheering her up. Ranni merely huffed, no real amusement behind it and he pulled a grimace over his own failure. Carefully, he tried a new approach: “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nay”, was her short answer and now he sighed. He got to his feet and walked around the fire, to sit besides her. “A man who disregards a good blade severely lacks character, if you ask me.”

“It is not about the blade, but the meaning of the blade”, she mumbled. “Tis a symbol of a bond... A bond that should be unbreakable. And he not only bastardizeth it, no he just throweth it away into some cavern. The disrespect towards the customs of house Caria... towards my mother... tis preposterous!”

Her brow furrowed, she picked up one of the twigs laying close to the fire and poked in the flames. “There hath been a time I adored him. When he still cared enough to be my father and not just a lackey of the Golden Order. Though his later actions were unforgivable... He hath been a good father once.” A slightly frustrated sigh came over her lips. “It should not affect me like that still. His betrayal lieth back so many years... But still it bringeth me so much pain.”

“We will make him regret. I promise you.” Constantine gave her a heartening smile and she nodded. “Good. He doth deserve it.” There were still many unspoken emotions left, he knew it, but he didn't want to probe further. It was apparent it already demanded a lot of courage from her to open up to him, so he was grateful for any morsel she was willing to reveal.

A few more moments of silence passed between them, though neither of them minded. Their bond allowed them to just be content with the other's presence. After eating his meal – the rabbit was more bones than meat, though he was just happy to eat anything but bread - Constantine got up and grabbed an old rag and his whetstone from Torrent's saddle bag, before he sat down at the fire across from Ranni again and started taking care of his blade.

The Darkmoon Greatsword was beautiful, shimmering in a soft blue hue when the light of the flames reflected off it. He took great care when guiding the whetstone along the edges of the blade, careful not to cause any damage to the steel. Ranni watched him attentively for a while, before she broke the silence: “Pray tell, doth every weapon receive such care from thee?”

He chuckled, but continued taking care of the sword. Meticulously he cleaned every crevice of the sword with the rag, inspecting it for any blemishes. “Only the ones my lovely wife gifted to me.”

Ranni hummed. “What a thoughtful and sweet husband I have.” He immediately blushed and she chuckled with a mischievous spark in her eye. “Cute.” His blush only deepened and grumbling he focused back on the sword in his lap. He didn't know how she did it, but she truly had a talent for breaking his countenance. And it was rather apparent she quite enjoyed luring those flustered reactions out of him.

Her laughing didn't break off, despite - or probably exactly because - his desperate efforts to divert his attention. Constantine stopped what he was doing and grabbed behind him, gathering a fist full of snow. When he threw the hastily formed snowball at her, her laughing stopped and she stared at him shocked. For a second he worried she might not appreciate his discourteous way of interacting with her, before she squinted her eye with that mischievous smirk she so often had. “Oh-ho, careful my Lord. Thou wouldst be wise not to provoke the wrath of the Dark Moon.”

He merely gathered another hand of snow, but before he was even able to form a snowball he got hit by one himself on his head. He laughed. “Quite the aim you have.” When he threw his snowball and missed her by an inch, she huffed mockingly. “My oh my, thou shouldst not hope to win a fight from a distance. Many a blind man doth posses of better aim.”

Constantine just smiled slyly. “That is because I'm much better at close quarter fights.” He jumped over the site of Grace and before she was able to evade, he shoved a fist-full of snow into the back of her collar. Ranni, of course unmoved by the cold, retaliated in turn by paying him back in kind. The Tarnished was of course very moved by the sudden cold running down his neck and back. He arched his back. “Eeeeergh.”

She giggled – full on giggled – at his reaction and stiff posture. “For someone so drawn to the cold, thou'rt quite skittish when confronted by it.”

“Unfair!”, he gasped and pouted. “I would've won if it weren't for you immunity to cold.”

“Trying to freeze a doll... thy strategy leaveth much to be desired.” Her bravado quickly evaporated when he pulled her into a tight hug. With a mean smile on his lips, he whispered into her ear: “Don't think I didn't notice how you react to warmth, my beloved. It is quite adorable.” She grumbled against his shoulder, but ultimately melted into his touch.

Her arms were wrapped around him and she rested her head against his shoulder. Such a sweet and intimate moment. That was, until she put one ice cold hand to the nape of his neck, making him shriek again. While he squirmed, she held him tight and laughed menacingly. Then she let herself fall back, pulling him down with her into a small snowdrift.

Due to the snow their impact was soft. The cold managed to lure a shocked gasp out of him, which only made her laugh even more. She had lost her hat during the fall, her blue hair flowing freely now. “Thou hast to admit, thy reaction to the cold is far more entertaining than mine to thy warmth.”

“The betrayal!”, he whined theatrically. Ranni raised a hand, this one not purposefully cooled down, and gently caressed over his cheek with the backside of her fingers. There was a rare tenderness in her gaze and he lost himself in it. “Thou... Whenever I feel sorrow creeping up on me, thou'rt there to divert my thoughts.” She let her fingers stroke over his skin once more. “My one and only Lord.”

Constantine felt like his heart was about to burst any moment, so full of affection as it was. With a soft smile he leaned down to kiss her and she recuperated without hesitation. When they ended the kiss, she said: “Let us return to the fire. I would not want thee to fall ill from the cold.” Though he enjoyed being this close to her, he couldn't deny that he was freezing. So, after helping her back to her feet, they sat back down close to the fire.

Without saying a word, she patted her lap and he immediately took her up on her unspoken invitation. As he rested his head on her lap, he sighed deeply and content. He loved to lay like this, being this close to her and feel her hand roam his hair. “This is nice.” She hummed in agreement, a second hand resting on his cheek. Something about this felt very intimate, many unspoken and yet obvious words hanging in the air. He soon started to doze off, focusing on her caresses in the secret hope he would take them with him in the dreaming world.

--------------------------------------

He was adorable to look at, when he slept like that. Ranni had made it her habit to watch Constantine sleep during their time traveling together. The soft twitches in his serene expression, the occasional mumbling of words she could not quite discern. Sometimes, she caught him mumble her name and she felt her heart clench and her chest narrow from sheer love. Ah, she was a hopeless fool.

His head resting on her lap, she absentmindedly stroked over his hair while watching the light of the campfire throw soft shadows onto his features. Despite not seeming it, she was on guard. It had been an obvious decision that she would stay up during their time on the road. Constantine had offered her to rest, but she declined. After that night at the Volcano Manor, she refused to be caught off guard like that again. To wake up and for her husband nowhere to be found.

Her mind wandered to the events of the day. Seeing that sword had dug up memories she rather forget about. But they stuck to her, robbing her of energy like hungry leeches. Memories of her father, carrying her on his shoulders through Caria Manor while she told him about her latest “revelations” regarding the mysteries of the cosmos. Mostly wild speculations, told with the naive conviction of a child. And he would always listen to her, playing into her stories.

“I want to go to the moon one day, Papa!”, Ranni exclaimed, her smile looking funny due to the fact she was missing a tooth. Radagon laughed, holding on to the legs of his daughter so she wouldn't lose her balance on his shoulders. “Is that so? A firefly on the moon, hah! Wilt thou not be lonely up there all by thyself?”

“Nu-uh! The moon will be there with me. Mama always speaketh with it, so it must be very nice... and thou canst come with.” Full of conviction she nodded and Radagon mused: “And how will we reach the moon? Will we jump reeeeaaaally high?” He made a small hop.

She giggled, vigorously shaking her head. “Noooo. Papa, thou'rt silly!” With all the seriousness a five year old could possess, she said: “I am not certain how to do it yet.”

His voice was full of warmth, when he said: “If anyone ever reacheth the moon, it will be thee my little firefly.”

Ranni barely remembered those early days of her childhood. She mostly remembered that feeling of... happiness. Of feeling protected and loved. And how she lost most of that feeling when her father left. Rennala had been too absorbed in her pain to notice her own absence in her daughters life. Never once did Ranni begrudge her mother. Rather she had focused all hurt and pain on her father, blaming him for shattering her family and taking that feeling of safety from her.

Her fingers still combing through the hair of her consort, she lingered a little longer in her memories. Until a faint sound demanded her attention. Immediately her mind returned to the presence, listening carefully for any trace that would give away that this sound wasn't just some wild animal. She heard it again. Footsteps. The darkness almost total of the night made it impossible for her to see far beyond their circle of light their small campfire produced.

Softly she shook Constantine awake, his gaze drowsy and for a moment slightly disorientated. He quickly pulled himself out of his sleepy state, when she hushed: “There is someone lurking in the shadows.” It was surprising how fast he was on his feet, his sword already in his hands. Though, she figured, it was to be expected after traveling for weeks all by himself.

“Where?”, he asked in a hushed tone and she nodded towards the direction the sound of footsteps last came from. And just as he set his first step towards the direction, a cloaked figure dashed from out of the shadows. Their robes were black with golden ornaments, a blood red scarf wrapped around their neck. Their face was shrouded in shadows, with a hood pulled deep into it.

Constantine easily evaded the first strike of the stranger. The weapon of them was a sword, reminiscent of a rapier. The narrow blade was twisted in a helix, the steel already caked in old and dried blood. Judging by the way the assailant was aiming for the neck of the Tarnished, it was obvious they were eager to add more to it.

Ranni enjoyed watching her husband fight. Something about his methodical, yet flowing movements was satisfying to watch. The way he wielded the Darkmoon Greatsword without the smallest hint of exertion, in patterns that felt at times like a dance. The fact he was using her marital gift to him in the way it was intended to. A ray of her Dark Moon, cutting through their enemies with ease. All together it painted a picture of visceral beauty, that could be found in a fight.

As a descendant of Caria she had been taught from a young age to not fear a fight and bloodshed. The Carian sorceries were built around fighting, constituting to one of the more aggressive schools of sorceries. Only the Haima conspectus were more drawn to offensive magic. Though, at least in Ranni's opinion, their spells were much less elegant when compared to the glintstone blades of Caria.

In a swift motion the Tarnished was able to cut off the arm of the assailant, just as they once more aimed for his throat. Stumbling back, crying out in unconcealed horror and pain, the hood of the man fell back, revealing a pale, boorish face with a red marking across it, depicting a trident. His blood red eyes widened and directed towards the stump of his arm, the man quickly scrambled up and obviously tried to flee.

Constantine seemed to consider letting him go for a second, before he furrowed his brows in determination and marched after the unlucky sap. Not before picking up the bloodied sword of his enemy, though. Ranni followed, not even putting a hand to her weapons once during the whole fight. One enemy, especially one as weak as this one, didn't deserve to experience their combined attention and power.

The man didn't make it far, the immense blood loss making him stumble and tumble through the snow; coloring it red in turn. He tried to reach a small portal, that lied somewhat protected alongside a steep cliff. Crawling on his belly, he tried to escape. But his pursuer caught up to him, before he was able to flee into the swirling magic constellation. With his fate sealed, the man still tried to crawl towards the portal. His effort was cut short, as Constantine skewered him to the ground with his own sword. Squealing in agony, before gurgling on his blood, the man eventually went limp.

With the imminent threat out of the way, Ranni approached the portal with some curiosity. A small pool of blood was in front of it, the origin of it unclear. “You're not seriously considering that we go through there. Ranni, there is literally blood spilling out of it.” Constantine looked at her with a raised eyebrow and she was greatly amused by how their roles where reversed now. She the curious one, he the voice of reason.

“There was a Lord of Blood mentioned in one of the scrolls of the All-Knowing. They are in possession of a Great Rune. Tis a little obvious, but I doubt subtlety to be in the repertoire of a being calling themselves Lord of Blood.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I feel we are to gain from exploring what lieth behind the portal.”

Exasperated he sighed, before he put his sword back into its sheath. “You are probably right... sadly.”

“A pesky habit of mine”, she grinned smugly, before she stepped past him through the portal.

On the other side of the portal were the dark and damp insides of a cave awaiting her. Ranni almost recoiled from the smell. She was mostly unaffected by such things, but even she had to admit that the odor in the air was rancid. It was a mixture of all kind of horrible things, but most prominently was the metallic smell of blood. Fresh and old.

“Good grief”, Constantine groaned, as he appeared besides her. His face twisted in an expression of pure disgust as he wrinkled his nose. “What was that about gaining from exploring here? I doubt we'll gain anything, except some airborne disease.” He shuddered.

Though registering his complains, she merely walked onward. The faster they were able to determine what awaited them here, the faster they were able to leave this place. Apparently coming to the same conclusion, her consort stopped his complaints and followed her. As soon as they stepped out of the cave, Ranni raised her eyebrows at the picture unfolding in front of her. “I am certain now, we will find this Lord of Blood here...”

They were definitely in the cave system of the Siofra, the artificial starry sky above them unmistakable. But where the caves usually were marked by lush greenery, shallow rivers of crystal clear water and sprawling with life; this part was full of decay and most of all blood. Ridiculous amounts of blood.

That at least solved the mystery of the unbearable smell.

“I just cleaned my boots...” Constantine lamented with a deep sigh, before he started his way with drooping shoulders.

Chapter Text

Constantine had learned during his time in the Lands between, that almost nothing was impossible. Magic and divine wonders made the impossible a possibility. So his sense of disbelieve was almost nonexistent.

Yet still, he never thought he would encounter a place more rotten, disgusting, repulsive, outright hellish than the Lake of Rot. He stood corrected, as he rode through a lake of literal blood, shit and all other kinds of bodily fluids. How did such a place even come to be?! The only thing saving him from having to wade through that slurry of awful was Torrent, selflessly offering to carry his companion and the demigod on his back. Constantine wondered where such selfless resolve had been at the Lake of Rot, but he would keep his tongue.

Ranni, her arms wrapped around his waist from behind, mumbled close to his ear: “We ought to give Torrent some treats for this.” Of course the steed huffed happily at that, almost nodding his head in agreement. Constantine chuckled and patted the flank of his friend. “We should get our journey to an end fast, or he'll become fat with all the treats you feed him.”

While Torrent threw a glare back at him, Ranni clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Loyalty should be rewarded!” Playfully she caressed the nape of his neck. “I feel thou wouldst agree.”

“You never feed me any Rowa Raisins! Though... they taste awful anyways, so I prefer your kisses. Much sweeter.” He looked over his shoulder with a cheeky grin, just to catch her rolling her eye in amusement. She squeezed him a little, before she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Constantine smiled, for a brief second even forgetting the smelly hell they found themselves in. Their moment of serenity was disrupted by a group of blood red Albinauric, raising like ugly toads out of the red sludge. On their way they had encountered a few groups of those second generation Albinaurics, their skin apparently tinted by the blood. Another oddity of them were the small black horns sprouting on their heads. Whatever resided here seemed to have a direct impact on the creatures.

The steed just barely managed to evade the hit aimed at his feet, by jumping to the side in a harsh motion. While Ranni managed to somehow hold her balance on his back, her husband wasn't as lucky. With a loud splash he landed in the red muck, getting covered all over with it. A second of shocked silence passed between the small group.

Lips quivering, Constantine got to his feet, dripping with the foul smelling liquid. Not a single complaint left him, though every last fiber of his being was revolted. Instead he unsheathed his sword and attacked the Albinauric. The amount of glee he felt when cleaving the poor creature into two was almost frightening. Exhaling shakily, he turned around to be met by the sympathetic gaze of his wife. “Oh my poor darling...”

He still struggled to fight down the urge to vomit violently, so he wordlessly made his way towards Torrent to return to the saddle. Defensively Ranni raised her hands – all four of them! - to keep him from saddling up. “Constantine. My dear consort. I love thee. I truly do. But I prithee thee... let us keep some distance to avoid stains. At least until we find a way to clean thee.”

“Alright...”, he moped, though he saw why she would say it. That didn't mean he wasn't slightly snubbed. So with an undeniable pout he marched onward, each step filling his boots more with the sludge. He was grateful for the enemies they encountered on their way, as they kept his thoughts from mulling over the fact he was covered in blood and other things. Though a small part of his brain wondered just what exactly it was he trotted through. Judging by the amount of carcasses lying or floating in the lake, he surmised it was a mixture of blood, excrement and other fluids that came with decomposition.

Ah great, now he thought about it.

Nausea tickling in the back of his throat, he almost wept upon seeing the shore of the lake. When he set feet on dry soil, he shuddered and looked down at himself. His nice armor, cloak and everything he wore underneath... drenched in sludge.

Ranni, white dress and hat without even the smallest of stains, sat safely in Torrent's saddle. Once they had some distance from the lake, she finally jumped down. Seeing the torment of her husband, she softly suggested: “We could seek out a Site of Grace? If I recall correctly, it doth clean thy gear.”

A spike of fear shot up his spine and he quickly scrambled for an answer. He hadn't seen any Grace since the Volcano Manor. Not even a small streak, an ever so meager flicker... Grace had abandoned him completely; and with it the convenience of quickly cleaned armor. “I-I would prefer a real bath, truth be told. Grace cleans the dirt, but I still feel icky afterwards. It's hard to explain.”

The demigod blinked surprised at his answer. “Thou art sure? Tis hard to tell when we get a chance for a proper bath next.” She knew him well enough by now, to find his willingness to stay dirty strange. Constantine shrugged his shoulders in an effort to come across as nonchalant as possible. “I'm sure. Besides, I haven't seen any Site of Grace here so far.” He almost wanted to rip his own tongue out. Not only did he stack up his lies, no he also built them on the hope that Ranni wasn't able to see Grace.

What if she did? What if they already passed a few Graces on their way here? He was a horrible liar. Thankfully for him, he apparently gambled correctly. His wife sighed. “Then it cannot be helped. But we will make haste so to find a clear pond for thee to clean up. I know how much it doth bother thee.” A little more playful she added: “Besides, I want to hold my Lord close again as soon as possible.”

Constantine had the overwhelming urge to drown himself in the red sludge, for being dishonest to his wife. He lied to her to keep her from worrying, but that still didn't dim the guilt he felt. I'm so so sorry my dear Ranni...

Their way lead them through a small area that was looking a lot more like the rest of the cave system underneath the Lands Between. Healthy trees with lush and vibrant green leaves. Thick grass, touched by dew. But even though the change in scenery might give a false sense of safety, Constantine knew better. Sure enough, they encountered Albinauric hiding in the undergrowth.

He wondered what connection the frog-like creatures had with this Lord of Blood that was allegedly residing here. His time to ruminate was cut short, when one of them blew into a horn, summoning the spirit of a gigantic skeleton. While he only jumped to the side to escape the swipe of a big bony hand, Ranni was quick to react and attack the summoner. With one clean strike of a glintstone blade, she decapitated the Albinauric. The skeleton immediately dissipated.

Constantine looked over to her, giving a nod of approval. “Nice strike!” She smiled and slightly bowed her head. “I thank thee, dearest consort.” They continued their way towards the palace-like structure. “I slowly shake off some of the rust that years of idleness left on me. To hear thee compliment my fighting doth make me happy.”

“I've seen you fight, dear. The skill in our fight against Rykard... Honestly, if you call that rusted, then I am slightly frightened to imagine how you'll fight when completely in training.” He laughed a little nervous and she threw an amused glance towards him. “Thou'st bested Radahn, I doubt thou wilt be intimidated by any of my skill.”

“All of you demigods are crazy powerful”, he relented and she mused: “Ahh, and yet thou'st bested a many of us. What doth that say about thy skill? Should I be frightened?” Of course she was jesting, but he still felt some pride when she acknowledged his strength.

Past the small stretch of wood, they entered an old looking structure, the columns of sandstone clearly marked by time. The tiles of the ground were cracked and uneven. Stairs, worn down by countless feet walking over them, led them further up towards a graveyard. There were reanimated corpses shambling between the headstones, their sounds the gasps and moans of creatures filled with anguish. Though clearly outnumbered, Constantine and Ranni had little problem passing the graveyard. They worked great together in fight.

Their path led them towards the entrance of a mausoleum, the pitch black darkness inside at first a little intimidating. Constantine lit the small lantern on his belt, illuminating their way ahead. Inside, there were more enemies awaiting them, this time not only shambling corpses though. Their opponents wore the same ornate robes the man that tried to ambush them had. All of them carried the unbearable stench of old blood with them, sticking to them like a foul perfume. If he had to guess, he would say that those were the disciples of this Lord of Blood.

“Look who is here. The little lambkin, scampering in the dark”, a man's snarly voice echoed through the mausoleum. Constantine looked ahead and spotted the man the voice was belonging to, outlined against the light of the exit. Varré seemed unchanged from their last encounter, still wearing his field surgeon attire and that emotionless white mask. “Never would I have thought you'd make it this far.”

“And I thought I've sent you off to the great beyond at our last meeting.” Constantine had a hand on his weapon. “Are you here to fight me with some flowers again?”

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, the white mask answered: “Of course a cretin like you cannot fathom the ways of our gracious luminary Lord. Your blood runs bitter, untouched by His love as you are.”

“Old acquaintance?” Ranni eyed the man with a wary spark, obviously sensing the tension. Her husband sighed. “I wouldn't call him that. He was one of the first people I encountered after reawakening as Tarnished and... well he said some things a man that just rose from the dead really doesn't need to hear.”

Varré spread his arms in an exaggerated questioning manner. “So, lambkin. Why did you come here? The luminary has no use for the likes of you, tainted by ignorance as you are. Are you here to bring chaos, maidenless runt?”

“We're here to claim the Great Rune of your Lord.” Sneering, the Tarnished readied his sword. “Try and stop us. Let's see if it fares better for you this time around.”

“I am going to enjoy spilling your wretched blood, you lowborn filth.” Unlike the last time, the white mask didn't wield that weird bouquet of blood-roses. Instead, he had a dagger, the design clearly with bloodletting in mind. To cut as deep as possible and rip a wound that would bleed plenty. Constantine had to agree to Ranni's previous statement. This Lord of Blood really never heard of the word subtlety.

“Leave him to me”, he whispered towards his wife over his shoulder. She wore an unreadable expression, but there was a clear spark of disdain in her blue eye as she looked at Varré. “Art thou certain? I would not mind disposing of this pest...” The way the man had talked about her husband clearly irked her and Constantine couldn't help but feel warmth. Of course it was an absolutely inappropriate time to lose himself in his feelings, with the white mask walking towards him with murderous intent.

“Quite the mouth you have there, little wench. Do not expect mercy.” How one could be so foolish and arrogant was beyond Constantine, but he didn't really care either. He did, however, care how the bastard was talking to her. In a fight of dagger versus greatsword, one might expect the dagger to be faster. And they would be right, of course. This particular instance, though, one would also have to take the magic wielding demigod into account.

The full force of a complete glintstone dagger phalanx hit the man in the chest, making him stumble back. He croaked dumbfounded, falling on his back. Constantine stepped up to him, his sword not even raised. “Your see, that happens if you insult the fair maiden with me. Pathetic worm.”

“You lowborn-”, before Varré could insult him, he let the tip of his sword sink into his chest. It was honestly surprising how easy the man went down, but he surely wouldn't complain about it. Every fight won with ease was a fight that took up less resources than expected.

“What were those last words about?”, Ranni inquired, while stepping past the dead man like he was nothing more than a rock on the side of the road. “He called me maidenless. Preposterous. He must be blind, because how else did he not see I'm traveling with the fairest maiden of all the Lands Between”, he shook his head in an exaggerated show of outrage. Ranni groaned and rolled her eye. “Oh stars. Be careful to not stick to the ground, while spouting all those sappy sweet nothings.”

Constantine took one of her hands, pressing an earnest kiss to her knuckles. “Oh, but my Lady; it is only the truth I'm speaking.” His wife sighed and with an undeniably smile in the corners of her lips, she mused: “Still, I find it rather amusing how apparently thou'st made an enemy out of the men in these lands, while most women fawn over thee.”

“Oh, you fawn over me?” Smugly he chuckled and she raised an eyebrow. “A little less since thou'st been covered in muck, admittedly.” He pouted, clutching a hand theatrically to his chest over his heart. “Your words sting like daggers, my love.” Truth be told, he himself felt absolutely revolting and just hoped that they would quickly find someplace where he could clean himself. Because he reeked like shit.

“Worry not, my consort. My love for thee is strong enough to withstand thine offensive odor.” She swayed her head in a playfully thoughtful manner. “I might even feel inclined to help thee later on. To scrub thee clean proper.” Constantine smiled roguishly. “Everywhere?”

She merely smirked. “Mayhaps...” He grinned like a fool, absolutely loving when she joined him in his flirtatious banter. In moments like this, he wanted to just sweep her off her feet and press her to his chest just to shower her in kisses. Given his current, filthy state he of course refrained from doing so.

Up ahead there was a small congregation of Albinauric awaiting them. Their backs were turned towards them and after a short exchange of looks, Ranni and Constantine decided against facing them in a fight, both of the conviction that it was always smart to pick ones battles. After the already long way they had up to this point and exhaustion slowly catching up with him, he was happy his wife thought the same as him. The prospect of having to fight a Shardbearer after all of this didn't precisely fill him with confidence, but he would have to endure. Thankfully Ranni was by his side to support him in the fight.

They stepped on an elevator that took them up the final stretch towards the structure overlooking the whole area. The vista unfolding before them was mainly one of blood and death, only the sporadic green crown of one of the few healthy trees down here broke through the reign of blood red and bone white.

As the lift came to a stop, they stepped off the platform and towards the entrance of the building. It was of similar architecture like the rest of the structures down here, sandstone shaped in minimalist design. Columns, stretching towards the artificial starry sky without any roof to top off the building. The interior of it was just as simple in design, though it felt more like a throne room than just an almost empty hall.

At first Constantine was rather confused when he saw the weird looking sphere that sat in the far end of the room, opposite to the entrance. What was this? It looked like it was made out of some fuzzy material, like bunched up cobweb or pale moss. It reminded him a little of a cocoon of a butterfly... or an egg sac of a spider clutch. He cursed his own imagination... There was a crack in the cocoon, a freakishly long and emaciated arm reaching out of it. Could this be the Lord of Blood?

Stepping over the threshold of the hall, he heard a faint whisper. It was too quiet for him to understand, but he felt his skin crawl. All of a sudden he felt uneasy, like something was sneaking unwanted caresses down his spine. A cold and yet burning hot hand, clawing into his flesh to try and reach the blood flowing in his veins. Shuddering, he turned towards Ranni, who was regarding his discomforted expression with puzzlement. “Do you not-” Before he could finish his sentence, he was cut off as blood red flames roared at the entrance of the hall, making it impossible for Ranni to follow. Faintly he heard her curse in surprise, but his attention was quickly led back to the other end of the hall.

The bony arm of the creature residing in the cocoon fell down, the fingertips pointed towards the tiles. An at first small rivulet of blood trickled down along the length of the arm, dripping down towards the ground and quickly collecting into a puddle. As the puddle grew in size, the whispering grew in volume, before it completely went silent.

Constantine threw one last gaze back towards the seemingly impenetrable wall of fire, cutting Ranni off from entering the hall. So he would have to fight by himself after all.

At first nothing happened, but then the distant rustling of chains was audible. He almost didn't dare trust his eyes, when a hulking person emerged from the pool of blood beneath the hand. Horns, black and curled inwards grew like a crown around the head of the beast. He wore black robes, with flashes of red. Golden ornaments and chains chimed, as the Omen rose to his full height; his back turned to the Tarnished. He held a massive trident in his right hand.

No sense of urgency was behind his movements, as he tenderly took the emaciated hand reaching out of the cocoon into his own and led it to his lips. “Dearest Miquella. You must abide alone a while.” His voice was gruff and raspy, so much so it was almost hard to understand him.

Finally, he turned to face the Tarnished, his arms stretched out as if to greet a long lost friend. “Welcome, honored guest. To the birthplace of our dynasty!” The face of the Omen was grotesque. Unlike the rest of the Omen the Tarnished had encountered so far, there was no semblance of humanity in his features, long fangs twisting them in a cruel smile. One of the curled horns had found its way into the eye of the creature, leaving it with only one golden orb. He held his trident with both of his clawed hands, clearly not interested in talking.

The Dakmoon Greatsword shimmered in the light of the torches illuminating the area, as Constantine drew his sword in one effortless motion. “Who are you? Just so I know how to call you when I chop you to pieces.”

A wheezing sound escaped the Omen, he guessed it was his version of a laugh. “Unworthy, with blood untouched by the love of our mother; and yet so confident. Ahh, but I am nothing if merciful. My name is Mohg, Lord of the age that is to come. Cherish the knowledge, simple creature.” Mohg approached him, slowly and still no urgency behind his movements.

Bracing himself, Constantine took a deep breath. He had to win, not lose concentration for even a split seconds, or it was over for him. No more second chances. However, his style of fighting had always been one of close quarters and hence rather risky. It would be foolish to try and change that now. To be successful, he would have to be more vigilant though. Watch, before attacking.

So he did just that. Letting his opponent approach and make the first move. The Omen was obviously convinced of his victory, not even the least bit of nervousness visible. Mohg reached up, a twirling red vortex opening above him and he reached into it. As soon as it appeared, the whispering resurfaced. This time it was a little clearer and Constantine was convinced he heard a woman faintly whisper. Though he still couldn't discern what she said.

Mohg threw blood towards him, the crimson liquid catching fire as soon as it made contact with the air. The Tarnished rolled to the side and avoided it, simultaneously closing some of the distance between him and the Omen. The strike of his greatsword was blocked by the pole of the trident and in a powerful twirl his opponent retaliated by trying to hit him with the sharp tips of the weapon. With a nimble side-step he evaded the attack. The three prongs shattered the tiles where he had stood mere seconds ago.

Growling dissatisfied, Mohg let the talons on his right hand cut through the air, leaving behind three streaks of flame that promptly combusted in Constantine's face. He recoiled from the heat, feeling it singe his skin. However, he promptly seized the opening the Omen left him in his right flank. The Darkmoon Greatsword cut deep, spilling the Blood of his enemy with an almost gleeful spark.

The pole of the trident thundered to the ground and in a booming voice, Mohg called out: “Tres!” A red ring built around the Tarnished, hovering at around his chest's height. A small spike of panic rose in him, as he didn't know what spell this was. But when nothing happened, he decided to first focus on the imminent danger ahead of him. Said danger was charging at him, his trident directed towards his chest. Constantine swung his sword, bringing it down just in time to intervene with the strike of the Omen. When it struggled for balance, he drew his catalyst and summoned a glintstone blade. With that attack he added just another deep cut to his opponent.

“Duo!” Another ring built around him, but Constantine was too busy evading the blood the Omen threw at him, just barely escaping being cooked alive by it. He didn't know what it was this creature was chanting, but it sounded... like a countdown?

A floury of hits rained down on him, Mohg wielded his heavy weapon with absolute ease. Their clash echoed loud through the hall, no doubt audible throughout big parts of the cave. Constantine hoped the yell of the Omen, as he managed to land another at the thigh of the creature would reach all of the disciples positioned close by.

As Mohg put a hand to his new wound and took a second to watch the sticky blood clinging to his hand, he threw one glare towards the Tarnished. “Unus!” A third ring joined the other two around him and Constantine scoffed. Was this some tactic to distract him? Charging forward, both hands firm around the hilt of his sword, he readied himself to end this fight.

A spark of something otherworldly appeared in the golden eye of the Omen, as he let his trident come down in a finite motion. As if bursting into joyous canticle, he shouted: “Nihil!” With a gasp of pain and shock, Constantine almost immediately went to the ground, clutching his chest. His heart! He felt his chest was bursting any moment, the weight of whole boulders crushing him underneath him. The whispering returned.

“Nihil!” Another joust of the trident towards the air, another wave of unbearable pain making his heart stutter. The world started to turn dark around him... and a woman's soft voice rang in his ear, sweetly cooing: “Surrender, little lamb...” There was no one near him, this voice was in his head. With it came an unbearable heat, nestling in the corners of his mind and burning away his thoughts.

“Nihil!” In an explosion of blood red light Mohg unfolded raven black wings, spreading them wide and displaying their full majesty. Constantine was meanwhile choking, his heart just clenching and not beating properly. His eyes felt like they were bulging out of their sockets and in one last moment of clarity, he reached for his flask of Crimson Tears. As the lukewarm tonic slowly ran down his throat, he finally could breathe again. His heart, after not beating at all, quickly picked up pace again to the point it was racing.

He regained his conscience just fast enough to evade the thrust of the trident, that was intended to pin him to the floor. His knees still shaking like crazy, he got up with his sword back in his clammy hand. A residual numbness coursed through his left arm, his fingers tingling unpleasantly. Mohg laughed his breathless laugh once more. “Only few survive the kiss of mother.”

With a mighty jump he got into the air, before flying towards him. Ducking underneath a swipe of the trident, Constantine finally found an opening in the defense of his opponent. Changing his stance to have a more stable footing, he brought his sword down in an almost perfect arc. The Omen cried out in pain, when one of his wings fell to the ground; cut off clean.

The Tarnished tried to use the distraction to sink his blade into the chest of Mohg, but he was parried and struck down by the end of the trident. His ears rang from the impact and he was disorientated for a moment, the hit to his head had been rather hard. A big hand closed around his head, pressing down with so much force he felt like his skull would crack any moment. Frantically he dropped his sword, aware that he didn't have enough room to use it properly. Instead he reached for one of the throwing knifes fastened to his belt, ramming it into the hand around his head and pulling it across to leave a deep and gaping wound.

Howling once more, the Omen retreated his hand and stumbled back. Constantine crumbled to the ground, holding his head and trying to force down the terrible dizziness that had his world spinning. He had no time! Scrambling up, he struggled to keep standing straight and not just fall back down. He felt like he was walking on a ship midst a stormy sea.

Mohg was still holding his injured hand, having disregarded his trident to do so. In that moment the Tarnished saw his chance, biting his teeth so hard it hurt and charging forward. His hands closed around the pole of the trident and he raised the heavy weapon, not letting his momentum die. Charging on with a cry of war, the prongs of the weapon directed towards the Omen, he buried it deep in the flesh of his opponent. Gasping and gurgling, he tried to wrestle it out of Constantine's hands, but he held on tight, still pushing forward and in turn forcing him to stumble backwards.

Finally, the back of the Omen hit one of the headstones, giving Constantine the resistance needed to completely bury the weapon in his opponent. The spikes of the trident pierced through the body, nailing the Lord of Blood to the headstone in his back. Spitting blood, Mohg clawed for his face but missed. His motions grew sluggish and slow, the immense blood-loss taking its toll. When the legs of the Omen could no longer keep him upright, he crumbled. His own weight ripped the wound in his abdomen further, intestines spilling to the ground in a heap of gore.

Struggling for breath, Mohg stretched one hand towards the cocoon at the other end of the room. “Ahh, I can see it clear as day! The coming of our dynasty! Mohgwyn!” His arm went limp and he stopped moving, the trident nailing him in his current position and keeping him from just falling over. With his last breath, the flames closing off the room finally vanished.

Hand still shaking, he reached out for the Great Rune hovering close to the corpse of the omen, even this part of him tinted blood red. The Tarnished took the Rune, adding it to the rest. So far he had been able to defeat all of his enemies without making use of the power he had at his disposal. And for now, he didn't plan on doing so.

“Constantine! Art thou well?” Ranni was at the side of her husband at a moments notice. He shook, the adrenaline in his veins still abundant. Almost... He almost died. It had only been a hairbreadth away. The memory of the seething heat that had touched his mind as he had been lying on the floor, gasping for air as his heart refused to beat... it would haunt him for a while. His hands shaking wildly, he stuttered: “I-I am f-fine.” Overplaying his hammering heart, he gave her a reassuring smile. Her cool hand on his cheek was a blessing and he closed his eyes.

“I tried suffocating those flames, but my magic would not quench them. Twas the work of something powerful, far beyond the capabilities of the Omen”, she sounded uneasy. “Though I am not wholly certain... I believe it to be the work of an Outer God. That feeling of... divinity, for lack of a better description; I have known it for the longest part of my life.”

“So that was...”, he whispered and she looked at him quizzically, urging him to keep talking. “During the fight, something forced itself in my mind. It was...”

“Tis horrible”, she muttered full of compassion, a palpable sadness in her voice. “Like all of one's self is just... burned away.” Constantine realized that she spoke from experience. So that was how she had been suffering under the control of the Greater Will? Burning agony, unless she complied? No wonder she would revolt against that. “I'm sorry you had to be reminded of your pain.”

“Don't be. I am saddened, however, thou hadst to endure the same pain”, she caressed his arm in a reaffirming manner. “But tis over now. With the death of the Omen, it seemeth thou hast severed the ties of the God to this plane. Good. Very good.”

“Iji said that some of the Demigods struck a deal with the Outer Gods.” He slowly calmed his jittery nerves a little. “Guess this one was one of them.”

“It appeareth so.” Ranni looked at the body of the Omen, an ever so small frown on her face. “I guess it doth beg little wonder that he would seek aid of a foreign god, seeing that the Greater Will and his own mother would shun him so merely for his existence. Cruelty begets betrayal.” Averting her eye from the Omen and directing it towards the cocoon, she sighed deeply. “Ahh, but aspiration always demandeth sacrifice. Willing or not.”

“Miquella...” Mohg had called the person inside the cocoon that. One of the demigods and Empyrean, half-brother of Ranni. She barely talked about him or his twin sister, so Constantine couldn't tell how much she was affected by the sight. She wasn't really forthcoming with sharing her family bonds and he couldn't begrudge her for it. After all, almost all of her family was either mad or dead.

“For the longest time his disappearance from the Haligtree hath been a mystery. To think he hath been here all this time, trapped in his cocoon... I wonder if he awaited salvation. His sister, mayhaps? Tis a cruel, cruel faith...” She sighed. “We not always saw eye to eye, but he did not deserve this. Being used for his Empyrean blood.”

“What do you want to do? He is a Demigod, though I hardly think he is a threat.” He awaited her answer, picking up his sword. Ranni looked lost in though, but then shook her head. “I... I am unsure how to proceed with Miquella... Prithee, give me a moment to think.”

He nodded, walking past the cocoon to explore what lay behind it. It was slightly disappointing, when nothing interesting awaited him here. Only a walkway, jutting out from the structure and allowing a breathtaking view of the Siofra cave. Sighing, he marched towards the end of that walkway and sat down, his feet dangling over the abyss.

Picking the flask of Crimson Tears from his belt, he inspected this most important tool of his with a worried frown. Without Grace, he would get no more heals and depending on the severity of his eventual injuries, he would have to drink more than just one sip. Weighing the flask in his hand, he hesitated. As of now, it was still almost full; granting him about ten sips of the healing concoction. After that, things looked rather grim. He was just hoping they'd end their journey before it would come to that.

Fastening the flask back to his belt, he leaned back on his arms and looked at the starry illusion covering the ceiling of the cave. He was tired, all the fighting left him exhausted and longing for a bed. Despite how awful it all ended, he missed the softness the bed at the Volcano Manor had offered him. Yawning he sank to his back, the yoke of exhaustion lying heavy on him. But no matter how tired he was, he still couldn't stop worrying about tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or any day that would follow.

He survived today, but who knew what might await him the next day? There was still one famously powerful foe awaiting them at the Haligtree. Malenia was a legend, just like any of the demigods. And after her, there was still the fight against Marika awaiting him. Not to speak of all the other possible dangers awaiting them on their journey to those locations. Constantine didn't like to think of himself as easily frightened, but thoughts of the future left him terrified.

“Thou seemest troubled, my dear. Something amiss?” Soft steps closed in on him and before long Ranni sat down besides him, looking at him with tender care. He felt reminded of their talk in front of the Carian Study Hall, the night she had given him the key to the chest in the Academy. Her sneaky way of telling him just how much she liked him. Of course, by now they were far beyond the mere feeling of “liking each other”.

And it was because of his deep felt love for her he was once more unable to speak the truth about his situation. “Just tired, love.” Still lying on his back, he looked up at her with a smile that reflected his statement. Taking in the vista in front of her, she absentmindedly caressed his hand until he intertwined his fingers with hers. Ranni smiled softly, but then it faded when she said: “Miquella... I know not what to do.”

He hummed, glad to be distracted from the threat of death looming over him. “What do you think?”

“There hath been a time where I would not have hesitated to kill him, just as a measure of precaution. But... now I just cannot.” Ruefully she sighed. “I cannot tell if it is sentimentality or mere foolishness that filleth me with doubt. Miquella hath been driven by ambition, like all of my kin. Yet his intentions... they seemed good.”

“What were his plans?” He was curious, especially when getting the information from one of the demigods herself. Ranni pulled her knees to her chest, before resting her chin on them. “Both Miquella and Malenia have been cursed since birth. She with Scarlet Rot that would claim her piece by piece; he with perpetual childhood. No matter how many winters would pass, he would not physically age beyond his seventh year. They would come to resent the Golden Order just as I, for it offered them no salvation from their curse and only demanded their servitude as Empyreans. Though their emotions weren't as... intense, as mine.” She almost chuckled at that last notion. “Miquella would set out to find a cure for his beloved sister, outside of the Golden Order. Heresy, in the eyes of the Greater Will as thou canst deduce.”

“So he and his sister splintered off of the dogmatic Order, instead retreating to Elphael. There, he would built a sanctuary for the dejected and plant his very own version of the Erdtree. The Haligtree.” The spectral part of her face looked almost sad. “He offered me once to join, as I was not subtle with my disdain of the Golden Order. But how could I have abandoned my mother; my responsibilities for Liurnia I still held at that time? So I declined, but were it not for those factors I might've considered his offer. Be it only to spit into the face of Marika, showing her how all three of her precious Empyrean children resented the very principal she stood for.”

“So his goal was to achieve equality, just like you. Only he didn't want to dethrone the Greater Will?” Constantine finally sat up to better look her in the eyes. She nodded. “Aye. He still believed in the fundamental good of the god. That was the point he and I disagreed on most and twas the reason I would not involve him in my plans. I want to cut off all divine influence, whereas he wanted a new Age for the Greater Will. Like the Golden Order replaced the Crucible with the reign of Marika.”

“Is he even conscious?” The hand reaching out of the cocoon looked like it belonged to a corpse, skin dry and almost clinging to mere bone. If Miquella was even still alive, than he was probably in agony. Ranni hummed uneasy, wrapping two of her arms around her legs. “Tis hard to tell. He doth not respond when talked to. I cannot tell what happened to him and how to get him out of this state.”

Constantine looked at their still intertwined fingers, unsure of what to say. He understood her quarrel, or at least why she would hesitate like she did. Killing the demigod, as a mere precaution for what he might do, felt cruel, especially so when he had no way of defending himself. If even Ranni – her reasoning ice-cold at times - hesitated to act, then maybe... “What if we just left?”