Chapter 26: Black Flames and Butterflies
Kalé made a rather unnatural noise when Blaidd wrenched his leg back into place.
As if he wanted to answer the resounding snap his thigh made, he started up quite the racket. The boy, the young Tarnished sitting across from the two of them, looked on with a slightly amused expression. He didn't much care for the sound of split bone being forcefully put together, but Kalé's slew of unfiltered profanities made him blush. The boy had since washed off his face, cleaning away the charcoal dust and smothered ash that plagued his features. With it gone, Blaidd is now entirely certain. This boy is indeed Tarnished. Blaidd was sure such was the case when he first got a look at the young warrior; there was that strange glint in the back of his eyes. But now, with the complexion of youth, no wrinkled grey skin to speak of, Blaidd could comfortably report that Kalé is traveling around with a Tarnished.
It makes something stir within him, but he quells the desire.
"Ay! Easy! Easy with your hands! Are you trying to make me pass on!?"
Blaidd goes about wrapping Kalé's leg, using two stints to keep the bone anchored straight.
"Quit your whining, less you want me to finish you myself."
The Tarnished made a small fire as Blaidd worked; assembling a small lodge to burn out of pieces he scavenged from the spike structures Godrick's soldiers fashioned on Bellard Bridge. As to how he got the fire going, that small golden spirit that follows him around ignited it.
From how the Tarnished positioned himself, it looked to Blaidd that he was trying to hide the action away, but it's not as effective when Blaidd practically towers over everyone here.
Still, that spirit.
For a moment, just a moment, Blaidd saw golden fire jump from the spirit, golden fire curling atop the wings of a butterfly, which rapidly consumed the timber the Tarnished provided as that butterfly landed. Faster than the blink of the eye, that golden fire changed into the deep orange flames Blaidd's used to. The butterfly smoldered away, until only ash in the wind remained.
It is most suspicious.
He's seen blue fire plenty of times, some red and even white flame. But never golden flames.
What's more… butterflies… those small insects.
They are rare in these lands, and they are only ever attributed to a certain cursed group of Marika's offspring.
Malenia's repulsive Aeonian.
Miquella's mysterious Nascent.
The omen Black Pyreflies of Messmer the banished crusader.
And the Smoldering Butterflies, of…
of…
…
..?
Blaidd's mind draws a blank.
There was a name, a name that got caught at the tip of his tongue, but the name never came…
…
What was he thinking about again?
He can't remember; the thought seemingly slipped away into the cracks of his mind.
What was it?
…
Guess it doesn't matter. If he felt no hostility or suspicion when thinking about it, then it never was important; just a random thought. Lady Ranni warned him against random thoughts; they can be dangerous things.
Anything for Lady Ranni. He thinks, steeling himself. I will not betray my Lady. She has trusted me this much. I will not sully that.
Therefore, Blaidd drops the thought.
It was most likely nothing important anyways.
Yes, it was nothing important.
Blaidd seems to have fallen deep into thought when he finished off Kalé's bandages, though that crease in his furry brow eventually slackens.
"What's on you mind mate?" Kalé asks, seemingly catching on.
Blaidd gives a little shake of his head, whisking something away.
"Nothing important."
We're all sitting around a small campfire I made, resting the final hours of the night away. No tents, no thin sleeping bags; those were lost with the horse. We'll be sleeping under the stars tonight.
While nothing's permanent, it sounds like Blaidd plans to move on when morning comes. He'll stick around until then, making sure none of Godrick's rogue soldiers come snooping. After that, it'll be back to my responsibility in keeping our travelling group safe, as we try to find a way to trek on without supplies.
…
Sheesh.
Even while sitting, Blaidd is just far too tall. He'd still be dwarfed by the Sentinel, and Agheel is even larger than that still. But he'd easily defeat the likes of Roard in maybe one or two swings, could kill me with just his hand. Such a force sits across from me, tapping his chin thoughtfully with a claw tipped finger.
It is a surreal experience; many such cases in this world for me.
He opens his mouth, closes it, considers his words, then looks right at me, before glancing over at Kalé as he speaks. Those manic eyes flash in mine for a moment, another chill down my spine.
"So. Time for an explanation. What are you two doing here?"
I give Kalé a shrug when he looks to me, as if to say that I'm here for whatever he's here for.
"To give ya the honest truth. I'm just trying to get home."
Blaidd gives him a questioning look.
"Blowing up Bellard Bridge. That gets you home?"
"An unfortunate side effect, it seems. Those lackeys didn't seem too keen on letting us pass."
Blaidd taps his long chin again, finger taking the chance to pick at his saber-like teeth.
"Yes. I see. Did find it odd Edgar's boys were nowhere to be seen."
"Do you know what's happening here?" I blurt out.
Blaidd stares at me a second too long.
...
...
He suddenly becomes animate again.
"Apologies, friend. Never got to hear your name."
"Names Lance."
He nods.
"I'll be honest with you, Lance. I just got here myself."
So he doesn't know either.
Blaidd raps his fingers on his knee, giving me an expression I can't quite describe. It's like he's more serious than usual; even the mania in his eyes die down a peg.
"I'm looking for someone, on behalf of my Lady Renna. A Bloodhound Knight by the name of Darriwil. Happen to know any sign of him?"
I shake my head.
A bloodhound knight sounds terrifying, though I'm not sure what one would look like. The name does set off a flag in my head; seems like past me ran into such a character in the game.
"His trail has led me here thus far. My only guess is that he's close."
"Who is he?"
Is Blaidd trying to find Darriwil for a specific reason? Does this knight pose a threat to Kalé, Melina, and I?
"He is a traitor." Blaidd snorts, the campfire light catching in his snarling eyes. "Desperately in need of a fitting end to his tale."
"Heard bloodhound knights are loyal for life." Kalé pipes in, admiring his broken leg in a form of grotesque curiosity. "You tracking him down because he skimped out of Renna's britches?"
Blaidd has a lot of respect for this Renna character; I can already tell that much. So, for Kalé to make such a vulgar comment….
Blaidd doesn't seem offended.
He merely gives the merchant a tired expression.
"My Lady does not wear breeches." He clarifies. "And yes. Darriwil abandoned his place by Lady Renna's side not long ago. I am tasked with hunting him down. I will bring him to justice."
The campfire crackles; I toss another chunk of debris on it. That explains Blaidd's mission.
So, he must be the bodyguard Kalé had before me.
I want to laugh.
The difference in our skills is abysmal.
Besides the bridge, I've been adequate protection for Kalé so far. But still, I hate that I'm easily the weaker one. Though I guess that's a given. I wasn't strong enough, again. I'm never strong enough.
Will people have to just keep saving me?
Will I ever be the one saving someone else?
I want that; want it dearly. I want to save someone; I want to be that somebody people depend on. I need that redemption. If not for anybody else, then for myself. I'm sick of my own weaknesses, sick and tired of dealing with them time and time again. I want to get stronger.
"Blaidd."
I say, catching the wolfman's attention. I go to open my mouth but close it again.
Is this right?
Is it the best course of action?
I haven't consulted with Melina yet, and this would be spiraling us away and on another "side quest" if Blaidd accepts. She hasn't said anything since she scolded me on the bridge…
Still.
"When I get Kalé squared away in Bellard; I'd like to help track down this Darriwil."
Melina is quiet.
Kalé gives me an incredulous expression.
Blaidd's eyes narrow.
"That…" He starts.
Not possible?
Doesn't concern me?
Not my business?
What is it?
He flips on himself, considering it.
"No. No, a second pair of eyes never hurts. A second sword is even better." He looks skyward, toward the moon. "Don't think it'll take me much longer to deal with Darriwil. I'll be on the mend by the time you reach Bellard's gates." He looks down at me. "But, on the off-chance this isn't the case, and we run into each other. I'll take you up on the offer."
I give a smile.
"I'm grateful."
"Got a reason why?"
How do I answer that? I want to learn from him? Want him to teach me some of what he knows? I'd never come out and say such cliché things, but they're more or less my reasons.
"No reason in particular." I summarize.
Blaidd cracks a smile. It looks terrifying on a wolf's face, but I understand the intent.
"That a fact? I've got the feeling my Lady would find you rather interesting."
Renna, right?
Why does that name not sound familiar in the slightest?
I know Blaidd, know Darriwil, so I probably ran into Blaidd in-game. If I know Darriwil alongside that, then I probably joined Blaidd in hunting down the Bloodhound Knight. More so, if Blaidd referred to his mistress this often, then she would have been a rather important character, if I were to guess.
So how come that name never raised a flag in my head?
Did I just never meet this Renna?
No. There's Roard.
His name didn't set off any flags either.
I met him but didn't know his name. Renna might be a new name. Or a fake name. Part of me whispers. Well, that's possible too.
"Is there a way to find you?" I ask, hoping to keep this going.
Blaidd considers it. Kalé jumps in.
"Oi, how about our signal?"
He makes it sound like Blaidd and him are best buds. Blaidd has been receptive to it so far, so that must be the case. Though, the wolfman gives Kalé a perturbed expression.
"You mean when you would snap your fingers all the time?"
"Yeah."
Blaidd looks heavily offended. Almost aghast.
"You fool, that only works if I can hear it."
Snapping your fingers?
"That's true. But what if he goes to a specified spot, and snaps his fingers there?"
Kalé explains; it's hard to tell if he's being sincere, or if he's mocking Blaidd again.
…
Yeah, he's totally mocking Blaidd; I can see the childish pleasure dancing around in his eyes.
From what I can tell, Blaidd isn't good at picking up on sarcasm; Kalé seems to be one to exploit this fairly often.
"I would see him coming, long before he would need to make any signal." Blaidd retorts. "And if I am in the middle of my search, waiting somewhere would be a waste of time."
Kalé gives me a smug look.
I return it with an exasperated one.
I was serious about my proposal; I'll find a way to locate him if he's still trying to find this Darriwil.
"Don't worry about it." I say. "I'll be sure to find you if you're still around."
Blaidd accepts that, perking up a little when an idea pops into his head.
"Well hey, if you find me, then it would only be because you're a good tracker. I'll consider your help if you manage that much."
Generous words, though it can also be implied that he'd appreciate it if I never show. Didn't hurt to ask, I guess.
"Now. About you."
Kalé drops his smug expression.
"Me?"
Blaidd begins to chew Kalé out, and as I thought: Kalé has a history of terribly thought-out plans.
The wolfman lists examples, angrily complaining about all the times Kalé dragged the two of them into trouble. It was entertaining, but I stopped paying attention after a while.
Melina has rested silently on my shoulder; as light of a touch to her as ever. The intensity of her glow has increased, to the point I'm starting to think I can see something in there. But she's still an orb of light in my eyes.
…
Compared to my first week, Melina has been rather quiet these days. While she has become a little more expressive since our last dive into my mind, it's still a drastic difference. Maybe she's just thinking about things; might've just decided there's not much more she can teach me.
But I fear there's a strain somewhere, a source of stress. Recent events have only increased that stress, and I'm getting that feeling again; something bad is going to happen. I brushed that feeling off mere hours ago; I was nearly blown to smithereens for ignoring it.
That same feeling weighs on my head now.
If that feeling is persisting, then I'd like to at least try to do something about it.
Melina reads my thoughts and memories like they're words and pictures in a book; she knows what I'm thinking at this very second. She must already know what I'm about to do, and still, she says nothing.
That can mean so many things.
I take a deep breath, and stand.
"Blaidd, sorry to ask this of you, but can you keep an eye on Kalé for a bit?"
The two give me a unified look.
I crack a small smile.
"We all know he'll somehow anger a dragon if we leave him alone."
Kalé looks mockingly offended; Blaidd returns my smile.
"So you already understand him, eh? Where might you be off to?"
I jab my thumb at a direction outside our realm of firelight, into the darkness.
"Gonna take this opportunity to do some training; haven't been able to do so for a couple weeks."
I bring only my sword; leaving Roard's partisan resting where I sat. It got flung from my hands when the ballista exploded, but I was able to find it, stuck in the ground like a dart sticking out of foam. I leave my chainmail too, bunched up with the survivors of my supplies. It'll need repairs where that bolt and the pieces of shrapnel tore open the links. But that can wait.
I walk quietly in the night, Melina following close behind me. Our camp doesn't lay far from the bridge; I place myself in a flat spot on the bridge's south side. From this distance, Kalé and Blaidd are mere stick figures in my vision; it looks like they got into some form of heated banter. Good for them.
I draw my sword, pulling it effortlessly from its scabbard at my side. It makes a fine sound as I do so; a sound that any person who ever saw any form of medieval or fantasy media would recognize.
Shiiiiiing.
I admire its used blade, its gilded brass pommel and cross guard. I adjust my grip on its leather wrapped handle, finding myself picking at a large area on the blade's edge that rolled; it's where I stuck Roard's gauntlet for the final time, exploiting him when his runes began to leak from a crack in his very body.
With a small flair of the sword, I take up a defensive stance, the first one Melina taught me.
My left foot ahead, weight anchored on my receding right foot. Back slightly hunched, arms with a small bend at the elbows. Sword held with both hands, blade tip level with my eyes and slightly jutting out past my front foot. I adjust my weight, steady my breathing; wait in silence.
…
With a burst of adrenaline, I swipe forward, kicking off from my anchored foot.
I swing, twisting my blade down as I bring my hands along with it. Once the action completes, I carry through, taking a second step, drawing the blade across my field of view. I envision blocking an attack, I envision dodging a follow-up thrust. I swivel on my anchored foot, until I've maneuvered around my imaginary opponent; slashing down and across their exposed back.
I reposition, temporarily retreat, before assuming a second stance, engaging my next threat.
I practice for a while, a long while.
To the point sweat starts to bead on my forehead, and my arms begin to feel sore. I don't know how to start this; I've never confronted anyone about anything before. If someone else initiated it; I would naturally try to go in. But I have never been the one to start things; not until I came to this land. Not until I met Melina.
Finally; I talk.
Melina.
That light watched me without a word as I danced around; floating alone as I circled around her. She gave no critiques, no pointers or corrections. She merely watched. She was silent for a time longer, but she eventually opened her mouth, flashing solemnly.
Yes? What is it?
I level my blade, grinding my boot into the soft soil.
Here goes nothing.
Can I… hear a bit about your past?
Silence from her; I lunge, spearing my own shadow with a blade that gleams in the moonlight.
My… past?
Yeah. Like where you come from…
I search for my intention; parrying a spear thrust from a familiar knight.
So, your home… What was Leyndell like?
…
…
…It was beautiful.
I circle, sizing up a soldier with a brass shield and warhammer, keeping an eye on a footsoldier who aims a crossbow right at my head.
If you can recall, I cannot remember most of my past. It is all rather muddled to me.
Yes.
But I remember the Capital; at least parts of it.
Before long, I find Melina resting on my shoulder again.
So many buildings, all built from bricks of alabaster stone. Golden rooftops and stained windows, the streets filled with people from all across the Lands Between.
The music, the light, and the tree; so large you could never take all of it in.
I take a breather, assuming a defensive stance to rest. My breaths have become a little ragged, but that doesn't stop my words.
It sounds dreamy.
…Yes.
It was.
Bathed in the moonlight, just me and a golden light on my shoulder. My sword resting in my lap, the scents of sweat mixing with the soil.
You know, Springfield sounds rather drab by comparison.
I stare off into the silver-stained darkness, eventually finding myself watching the moon.
But I never could quite explain it; I loved that city. There were far greater places to visit on the East Coast, and the mountains of Missouri pale in comparison to the Rockies in the west, but Springfield had its own form of beauty.
I find my breath, hoisting myself up. With a surge in power, I advance, drawing up my sword again.
Those tall skyscrapers, surrounded by countless homes, with their own families, living their own lives. The fog cover you would sometimes get, turning the entire area golden when the sunrise hit it. The amazing restaurants, the parks, and the giant library too.
Restraunt?
I don't lose my pace, battling unseen foes with but a dented blade to wield.
Yeah. They're kinda like a tavern, usually with less alcohol though. I can try and take you to one sometime, if I'm able to remember a particular building well enough.
I think I would like that.
...
...
...What's your favorite color?
Colour?
Yeah. I personally love purple. Back in my world, it was usually associated with royalty and expensive things, but it's also the perfect color. Not too hot, not too cold. It's the rarest natural color in nature, and I never tire of seeing it.
...I like green.
Green? Really?
It is the color of life, vitality, and peace. It is everything that I want, and so it is my favorite.
I can see that.
What was it in your world?
Uh.
I'd say it probably has a similar meaning. Though green was also associated with money a lot in my country, so there's that too.
We talk for a time longer, as I swing and dodge and dance. We talk about what we want to be, our favorite seasons, if we prefer the day or night. That feeling something will go wrong slowly melts away, until I'm happily chatting along about my friend Daniel, my favorite books, and even into the video games I played.
I thought I was in the clear, but Melina drops a bombshell out of nowhere.
What was your family like?
I nearly trip over myself.
My… family?
Yes.
My family…
Well, I guess was an only child. I supposedly had a twin, but they died in the womb. It was only me in the end.
My mom, Mrs. Thompson, was a school teacher; I was even in her class when I was in seventh grade.
My dad, Mr. Thompson; he's a PR Executive, for some branch company that sold technology like phones and such. He's kind of like Kalé in some ways, though he rarely smiled.
I twirl my sword about face, letting the blade nearly nick the back of my head, before I swing it down with all of my might, drawing back my right foot and leaning in. I halt the sword right before it hits the ground; I swung fast enough that the blade became a blur, whistled through the air like an arrow.
My parents were always busy with one thing or another, but they always tried to make time for me.
I'm out of breath again; my arms have started to feel almost dead. They fail me, letting the tip of my sword rest on the dirt.
I wonder what they're up to right now. I miss them, dearly.
I was ready to leave it there, call it a night and head back. Considering what happened only last night, I thought Melina wouldn't want to talk about her own family. But she begins to speak.
My mother… my parents gave birth to me long ago.
I take a seat, sheathing my sword.
I cannot remember their names; I cannot remember their faces. I surmised that time has made my memoires fade, but I have begun to doubt that.
Radagon… Father... I am not sure what he was to me. I called him father, but I cannot be certain if that is the case.
My mother; my mother in the Erdtree... She calls to me.
It is not her voice, but I can feel a force that drives me, charges me to search the roots for a way back to Leyndell, even after all these years.
She calls to you?
Yes.
I can be certain that her call is all that has kept me alive these many years.
Kalé said that living things of this land will constantly revive, but that is not the entire truth. Without the Rune of Death, one cannot hope to return to the Erdtree. They will be rejected, sent back to their bodies from which they came.
But it is possible, rarely, for one's runes to become lost, separated from their body.
Such runes are tangible beings, ones that failed to ascertain a purpose. No longer do they hold thoughts or feelings; they are as alive as stone. These runes will linger, before they eventually settle, taking root in the dirt.
But if the runes hold their purpose, if they still remember themselves, then they will linger further.
Those are referred to as spirits.
Roard's words; what I've called her this whole time with Kalé.
Are you a spirit?
I… am somewhere in between.
I do not remember myself; I have yet to ascertain my purpose. But I have not lost myself; I have not yet truly died.
My mother… my drive… It is what keeps me as a spirit of sorts.
She lifts off from my shoulder, floating around to hover in front of me.
I am but a rune. But I have begun to take on the qualities of a spirit, ever since I met you. I am without my body, yet I have begun to become tangible during our travels.
…Why does your mother call to you?
…Because…
…
…I do not know.
I wipe accumulated sweat off my forehead, admiring my sword.
But you need to reach her, right?
Yes.
I slowly nod.
Then, this trip must be aggravating, huh?
She resists that statement.
I agreed that this would be a necessary step if we want to strengthen you; I will not waver on my decision.
Even so, I should just call it off with Blaidd.
You…
…
…That is not necessary.
I stand.
We've been spending too much time working on my goals. It's only fair if we head right back on track after dropping Kalé off.
I shrug at her.
And hey, at least it'll be faster the second time around; we can always use the breaches.
…
Is there… something else?
I-…
…
Do not…
…
Don't push yourself on my behalf.
I do feel aggravated by this journey, but I want you to continue regardless. If I desire, if I hope, to finally return home; I will not dash my chances because I am impatient. I pray you do not waste time, but if you find a way to increase your strength, take it. I will be here, whether I am patient or not, to support you.
I need only your promise.
It's always the promise. Then again, it's all that matters in the end. If I want to go home, if I want to see my friends and family, be free from this hell, then making it to the foot of the Erdtree is my goal too. I will face opposition, so much opposition that it'll break me. But I am consigned to this fate.
If I ever want to be free…
Then…
I promise that I will get you to the foot of the Erdtree, no matter what stands in our way.
A warm glow radiates out of Melina's form; her voice becomes all the more lively. I can almost imagine her smile, her rare smile, that scarcely graces her monotone face.
That will suffice.
She gets far too close for comfort.
Now, about your form…
When Melina and I return to camp, I'm ready to pass out.
The moon has since been completely obscured by cloud cover; the land has darkened enough that I can no longer see my own feet.
Naturally, Kalé would still be awake, playing that lullaby-like tune of his. But for whatever reason, either the injury he sustained, or the stressful day we've had; he's passed out. He's not exactly the most peaceful sleeper; sprawled out like a linebacker that just got the wind knocked out of them. His face holds a pained expression, but he's asleep in the truest sense.
Blaidd, on the other hand, is awake, hunched over like perched raven. He easily hears me coming, knows it's me by scent and sound alone. He doesn't even turn to me; he just speaks.
"Tell me. What is a Tarnished doing, travelling with the likes of Kalé?"
I slow to a halt just as I reach the firelight, still drenched in sweat.
I'm not sure how to answer that.
When Kalé was awake, we had a common ally. But with the merchant practically unconscious; we're two strangers resting around a campfire.
What's more, one of these strangers, unknown to me, is regarded as an outlaw, a criminal; an infamous legend. The Snow Witch Ranni's shadow, half-brother, and confidant to the slaying of Godwyn. He's elusive, cautious, and teetering on the edge of falling into mania. To him, this other stranger, this Tarnished, is a loose end; a witness that can comprise Blaidd with a single sentence in the right ears.
He hasn't killed me yet for Kalé's sake, and that sake alone.
After hearing Kalé's embellished story in my absence, he's toned down his silent hostility toward me. But trusting me is as far off as the horizon.
I don't know his story, but I've picked up on the stale taste in the air.
So when he asks my intentions; I take longer than a moment to answer.
"I found him imprisoned in the abandoned town near Stormhill Gate, after driving Godrick's soldiers out of there."
"Aye, I heard tell about that."
"He wanted a bodyguard, so I stepped up to guide him home."
Blaidd turns; the instability in his eyes shine in the firelight.
"Kalé filled me in, among other things."
He leans in; that massive sword of his propped up beside his knee. It would only take a second to split me in half.
"What I fail to understand, is why you agreed."
I hold my hands up in a lackluster manner.
"I'm Tarnished. I'm here to try and become Elden Lord. But I'm far too weak. I'm not ready to take on the likes of this Godrick fellow I keep hearing about, and it sounds like it only gets harder from-."
"That much is obvious."
Blaidd interjects, cutting me off. I feel a sting, though I'm not put off.
I'm sure my abysmal performance on the bridge would be obvious enough to anyone; I'm far too weak. I can swing a blade, win my battles if I'm fighting 1 on 1. But as soon as thigs gets dicey, as soon as more than one take me on; I collapse.
But Blaidd keeps talking.
"What I truly fail to get is why you think such a trip will change anything."
I furrow my brow.
"I guess, train more? Get stronger…" I take a deep breath. "Collect more runes?"
Blaidd's eyes go through so many emotions that I can't remember a single one. But he keeps his calm and imposing facade up, stroking his chin.
"That right? 'Collect more runes', you say."
He seems to connect two and two together; I saw Kalé do something similar last night.
"So, he wasn't a complete liar then."
"What?"
He stops me.
"Don't worry; I'll be gone before sunrise. Just get some rest… I'm leaving Kalé in your care."
He stands to leave. I'm guessing he will stay somewhere nearby, but he's apparently decided to make some distance.
But as his back turns, bathing his cloak in sunset orange, he pauses.
"Oh, and be sure you don't listen to his plans. They are always ill-conceived and scarcely thought out."
He says it like a joke.
Yet he lingers further, hesitating. I'm afraid of what he intends to say, but he simply waves his hand, like a farewell.
"If we cross paths again; I hope it'll be as friends. Maybe even comrades."
With that, he disappears, phasing into the realm of the darkness of the night.
When the Tarnished known as Lance submits to the call of the night, Blaidd is left alone. That spirit he has, the golden light that flutters about like an insect, still moves. Even when Lance has fully fallen asleep, the spirit still remains.
It rests next to Lance, making itself comfortable, like it was taking a seat. It may have gone still, but Blaidd can still sense its presence. He cannot hope to get a better look at it now; it would most likely alert Lance.
Balidd did wonder why Lance didn't bother to stand guard, seeing as how most highwaymen attack at night. But if that spirit can remain corporeal, even when the summoner themself is no longer conscious; it answers Blaidd's question.
Still, from this distance, the spirit shouldn't be able to see him. Then this should be far enough. He thinks to himself.
Blaidd procures a device from his satchel.
Far away, nearly on the other side of the land, an empyrean with synthetic flesh rests, staring out at the nebula-plagued and galaxy-ridden void.
She has an air of pleasantry about her, though it can also be interpreted as mystery. Smooth skin as blue as glacier ice, movements as calculated as a statue that gained sentience. He one open eye looks like someone captured a sapphire, and placed it in that glassy organ. She is petite and small, yet she wields enough power to end the world.
She is amongst her glittering trinkets and spellbooks, astrological instruments and glassware. The almost citrus scent of fresh glintstone hangs in the humid air, its telltale cyan glow permeating the fog that enwraps the empyrean's tower. She is in her realm, her fortress. Her dragon guards the way; her knowledge of the cosmos settles her meager worries.
Here, she is untouchable.
Against this, against it all, she feels worried. Her doll face cannot show emotion, but her aquamarine blue eye is creased as she waits impatiently.
Blaidd is her one of her closest allies; he has been there since she first became an empyrean. She regards her half-wolf shadow as family, him and Iji both. She has no doubt that he will not betray her, nor does she believe that any being aside from the Demigods themselves could harm him.
Yet, he has never been this late before.
Thou'rt a cruel one, Blaidd. She thinks solemnly. Dost thou never consider thine words pleaseth me so?
She always keeps tabs on Blaidd when he's gone from home this long. While it was only ever to monitor his progress, Lunar Princess Ranni always enjoys their interactions. She would never admit such a thing, nor does she think she is worthy of that type of joy.
She has done many, many things in her war against the Greater Will. It's not as simple as Lord Rykard's childish blasphemy, or Miquella's self-righteous ideals. She wants to be free; she will not obey. She discarded her flesh, stole a fragment of the Rune of Death, even considered committing the cardinal sin. She is still at war, still toiling tirelessly to reach Nokron, to uncover the one artifact she needs most; the one artifact that was sealed, deep beneath the Lands Between.
In her mind, what she has done is just. But she does not support it; it was always a necessary evil. So for her to feel joy; it does not feel right.
But when the ring resting on her desk blinks; she can't help but exude a small smile.
"Ahh, finally." She breathes, raising a single finger.
The undeniable flash of sorcery ignites from her fingertip; the elusive secrets of glintstone become unlocked for a mere millisecond. In that second, white light grows from thin air in Ranni's tower, taking shape into a wolfman draped in a furry cloak, towering over her.
Blaidd is only here in mind; he is but a projection. But he quickly falls to a knee when he lays his eyes upon Ranni, staring intently at the ground.
"My Lady."
"Blaidd."
Ranni says in an almost carefree voice, so slow and meticulous that one would think she was trying to sing a lullaby.
"To be so late, thou must have found trouble."
Blaidd shakes his head.
"The fault lies with me. It won't happen again."
With that, he raises his head, setting his tone. He still has a duty to report his day, to update Ranni on his matters. Though he feels remorse, he will complete his task.
"My Lady, I am currently on the Weeping Peninsula, just south of Bellard Bridge. I am still on the trial of Darriwil, though I have since lost his repulsive scent."
Ranni slowly nods.
So, the usual news.
Bloodhound knights are exceptional trackers, and by extension, are proficient in staying unseen. If Darriwil wanted to cover his tracks; Blaidd would be the only one capable of sniffing him out.
Not even the Black Knives could accomplish this task; not that she would acquire their assistance for such a matter. Those assassins have been scattered in the wind; they are hardly in the shape to perform. For her, only the wolfman is capable.
Blaidd seemingly glances behind him.
"I would also like to report: tensions have risen on the Peninsula."
Ranni slightly dips her head at that news.
"Godrick's men have taken Bellard Bridge, and there are signs a large invasion force passed through here not long ago. What's more, these men have no leader; they move like a mob. I have since dealt with the guards at the bridge, but I fear Castle Morne is currently under siege."
To that, Ranni feels no remorse or surprise.
She has no ties to Bellard or Castle Morne; no desire to claim them. It is unfortunate, but she has no desire to do anything about it.
"Continue thy search, Blaidd. I will keep thine words in account, but it meaneth little to me."
Blaidd nods.
"Of course, Milady."
He falls silent, staring off into open space. At this point, he would glance back down at the ground, and Ranni would sever the ethereal connection. But there's something on his mind; Ranni presses.
"What'st be on thy mind, Blaidd? Is there more thouest hath withheld from me?"
Blaidd tilts his head, sighing.
"Aye, there's more. I ran into a Tarnished."
That perks Ranni's interest; Blaidd has never been too kind to Tarnished.
Her faction rarely interacts with those corpses, reanimated by grace; they are devoid of light. They are exceptional to complete horrid deeds, but they lack the virtue Ranni looks for.
To this extent, Blaidd has tended to kill them; he shares the consensus of the general populace.
So, for him to bring one up; they must have been strong, or…
"A young fellow, by the name of Lance. He's unremarkable, if I'll be honest." Blaidd returns Ranni's gaze. "But I reckon he's a spirit summoner; a rune capable of flame incantations follows him around."
Ranni's eye perks up a little; just a little.
…
Could it be?
She almost asks Blaidd if they were black flame incantations.
But she arrests her fake tongue. There is a chance, but it is not likely.
"What's more, there's rumors circulating around, about a Tarnished that can administer Destined Death." Blaidd glances behind himself again, looking at something Ranni cannot see. "Rumors like that are common; I didn't think anything of them. But… I reckon he's that Tarnished."
Ah, it may just be likely after all. That spirit might just be her. Ranni leans in, her eye sparkling. She trusts Blaidd, has trusted him nearly as much as he trusts her. If Blaidd speaks the truth, then he truly found a diamond in the rough.
"This Tarnished, where will he travel?"
"He's headed to Bellard, accompanied with an accomplice of mine; they'll reach the gates in two days' time." Blaidd gives her a meaningful look. "Reckon you wish to meet him then? I can-."
"There would be no need."
Ranni reaches for something within one of her desk's drawers beside her, procuring a golden ring of curious craftmanship. Inside, an ancient spirit festers, eagerly awaiting a call to awaken.
"I will visit him myself. I wish to behold this Tarnished, that has irked thine curiosity."
The Rune of Death has only ever been stolen once; Ranni is sure of it. Maliketh hid it well after the Night of the Black Knives, somewhere in a place that lies beyond time. One could not reach it through normal means, and a mere Tarnished could not hope to steal it
. If it is true, if this Tarnished administers Destined Death, then it is a power apart from but in line with the Rune of Death. It may be an offshoot, offspring, or relative. A doppelganger, a curse mark, or even a stranger.
Whatever it is; it is exactly what Ranni holds the greatest interest in.
If it is not apart of the Rune of Death, then it is not a fragment. If it is not a fragment, then it is complete. If it is complete, then there is no rite.
Without rite… it's possible.
Truly possible.
A power of death, without the realm of the Greater Will's Elden Ring. Separate from Death Rite Birds and Godwyn's twisted death. A power separate from the eclipse, the blasphemy, and the dark path.
It is an outside influence, a new piece on the table. Like the budding rot, the formless mother, and the frenzied flame. The fell god, the blood star, and the twinbird. A being from another world, an entity that has flesh; an infantile Tarnished that walks amongst the living.
This Tarnished, young and impressionable. A lamb in danger of slaughter, in danger of being reduced to ash by that ambitious Gloam Eyed Queen. Yes, a meager lamb; a docile lamb with the black fangs of Maliketh himself.
This Lance, chosen by an existence not of this world. Followed by a cursed empyrean; she surely must have realized his potential too. Ranni will not pass up this chance.
He is a carrier of Destined Death.
A commander of spirits.
A vessel of an Outer God.