Chapter 23: Death's Deliverer

I stayed at the breach until nightfall.

I said nothing, I did nothing.

I simply spaced out, stared into that golden aura with nothing more than an emotionless expression. It was like I was a mannequin, a puppet; not reacting to anything, not even when animals drew too close, or when the breeze picked up after the sun set.

I…

I've never had a close relationship with anyone besides my parents before.

I had Daniel, I had my neighbors; I could even say I'm friends with Kalé. But close relations; relations that I hold in higher regard than anything else; only three can take that title. Mom, dad, and…

It feels like something got ripped out of me. My mind is a mess, my thoughts are a never-ending current. To spare you the excessive details: I'm thinking about a lot of things. About Melina, about the sub-three weeks that I've been here. About everything she has ever said to me, about everything she just said to me. About Radagon, about the spell on my memories.

About how Melina bled, and how I bled too.

The blood I found on my own face burned the skin on my left cheek, charred it black in three waving lines that carved down nearly to the bone. By the time I awoke, the blood had gone cold, like it was nothing more than maroon water that tastes like iron when I wiped it off.

I've yet to heal the burn scars; I've yet to do anything. I saw everything, everything that meant anything at all to me in this world, come burning down.

It's only when the sun has left, and the darkness of the approaching night encapsulated this little realm of golden light, do I even dare to open my mouth.

"Melina."

Silence.

I can't accept it, can't even think about the idea that she abandoned me here. If she did, if she left into the breach and never returned… what would I be after that?

"Talk to me. Please."

The chilling breeze enwraps me; golden light of the breach illuminates my scarred face. My weapons lie still by my side; they're cold to the touch.

I feel cold to the touch.

It all feels wrong; its twisting my stomach in knots. I've been stung, and the venom still courses through my body. I never knew so few words could hurt this much. I never knew I was so vulnerable.

The silence persists, the cold encroaches.

It's agony.

"I do not know what came over me."

I nearly jump.

Melina's voice, her real voice.

Not filtered through the void, nor silenced into artificial telepathy. It's a voice that's carried by the wind, plagued with connotations and self-reflections. She's somewhere nearby, within the golden light.

I'm don't want to look, don't want to see her face. I stare into the breach, feeling relief and guilt washing over me in waves.

"I have never acted in such a way before." She explains; slowly but surely. "Nor would I ever expect to conduct myself in such a manner, to you, like that."

Silence; I can't think of anything to say.

Melina continues.

"I have known that your spell was self-administered for some time now; I never was able to figure out why. Not only has the spell restricted your memories, but it has erased your reasons for doing so."

I slowly raise my head.

"But, why would I do something like that?"

I can't see Melina, but her voice sounds like she's-

Particles of light coalesce, and Melina appears by my side at the Site of Grace. I nearly shuffle away, as if I was somehow afraid of her. But I arrest myself.

"I do not know." She says.

She's not kneeling, she's sitting, with her knees pressed up against her chest. Her burn-scarred hands are all the more apparent in the light; I get flashbacks to what transpired in my mind a few hours ago. The red tear marks have disappeared from her face; her tattoo returned to it's normal dark color. She overall looks like she usually does, but her quiet expressions have been dashed.

"I do not know why, Lance. You yourself do not seem to know either. For whatever the reason; it has been lost."

"I'm sorry."

"Do not be. The you I know is not the one who cast that spell. That you erased himself, either for your benefit or detriment."

I let out a small sigh, one that reeks of relief. It feels like the cause of all this is out of my hands. Though, I can't help but feel guilt.

"Definitely for my detriment." I try, hoping to ease the mood. "It's like this other me decided to send me on a road trip and took my map away."

Melina doesn't give the small smile she usually does.

"I agree." She states.

We both go silent, sitting together by the Site of Grace for a spell. Melina stares almost longingly into that golden flame, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. I can't read her mind, but I can only guess what she's thinking about.

Radagon.

She hears my thoughts; physically shying away.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She hesitates, creases her mouth and furrows her brow in a troubled expression. She has told me nothing of her past, but with her scarred hands and her strange tattoo, and the fact that she is without a body; it must be painful to think about. I want to know, I do. Not just for the sake of knowing, but also the thought that if I knew more about her, I could help her somehow. Share the burden, in any way I can. But Melina won't divulge anything to me, and with a small sigh, the stress is released.

Melina gets to a kneeling position, before fully standing.

"I do not wish to." She brushes herself off, though not even a grain of dirt ever touched her. "I cannot remember my relatives, nor do I remember if he truly is my father. As I said, most of my memories have faded with time."

It feels like she's simply patching over a wound, without taking care of it. But, I can't say anything. Even if Melina says it's not my fault; I'm the root of this. It's my memories that set Melina off.

What's more, her tattoo… the blood… the fire…

What was that all about?

"We best be on our way. We have left Kalé alone for too long."

I brush my hand into the golden fire, the three charred lines on my face clear up and disappear.

"Yeah. I'm a poor excuse for a bodyguard."

This, all this, hasn't been resolved, not by a long shot. We merely tossed water onto the fire; there's still hot embers lying dormant. I don't know how to patch things up with Melina, don't even know if I have the right to do so. My standing here is like being the child of an infamous murderer. I may be innocent, but that doesn't mean the families of the victims will treat me kindly. I can try and apologize on my murderous relative's behalf, but words like those are worth as much as dirt.

If it doesn't come from the source; if it doesn't come from this me that cast the spell, kept Melina and I away from memories that can help, that can comfort us; that can tell us the future…

If that me doesn't atone, then the embers will never die.

…

I'll just be glad that Melina's still here for now.

Yeah, I can live with only knowing that.

I retrace my steps in the darkness; a small light follows close behind me.

The breach isn't too far from where Kalé and I set up camp; Melina was able to spot it while the merchant and I were hammering in the stakes for our tents.

As to where this breach is, Melina has never been this far south before. She knows little about what lies ahead.

According Kalé, we've made it to the southern tip of Limgrave, just north of the large bridge that connects here to the Weeping Peninsula. Two days since we left town, a day spent in town, and three days before that spent circumnavigating Agheel's Lake. Nearly a week; it's been a long journey. And compared to the size of the Lands Between, we barely traveled anywhere on the map.

We still have a ways to go before we reach Bellard.

So far. I can't remember the last time I've walked this much.

I don't think there ever was such a time before. I feel like a pioneer on the Oregon Trail, except I'm wielding a sword and need to look out for monsters and demons instead of wild animals and perturbed natives. Traversing hills, slinking through ruins. Evading obstacles, and lots and lots of walking.

Sometimes, I forget what world I'm in.

When I spot a bubble of firelight in the night, with a campfire and dopey looking horse residing within it, I can immediately tell something's different.

In the realm of the fire's warm glow, I spot Kalé, but I spot another figure too. Kalé stands near the edge of the fire's light; from how he's holding his stringed instrument, he was probably playing it recently. He usually takes a seat when he's playing the thing, but he's standing now, quietly conversing with another.

This newcomer wears very similar clothes to Kalé, though the colors are dark grey instead of red. Gray skin, yellow eyes, a cloth covering the mouth. He has a Santa hat too, but when he spots my approach, the look he gives me under his grey Santa hat is a strange sort.

Kalé follows his gaze and gives me that same expression.

Uncertainty, mixed with fear and suspicion.

The newcomer turns to leave, whispers a few parting words to Kalé, and disappears into the night.

I slow to a halt, nearly next to the camp fire. The air feels much too tense, and the look Kalé's giving me isn't helping very much.

The heck's going on?

That was a fellow wandering merchant, he did not seem comfortable with our presence.

Kalé turns to face me, studying me over. He goes to ask a question; I don't know what I was expecting but what he says isn't anywhere near familiar.

"Mate, are you a Black Knife?"

I knit my eyebrows together. A what?

Kalé reads my expression.

"You know: an assassin, a shadow, a fan of centipedes?"

"I haven't got a clue what those are."

Kalé gives a small nod.

"Thought as much. I guess they are all Numen women, after all."

He prods a long in the fire, drawing it further into the erratic flames.

"Then? What are you?"

I give a perturbed expression; it matches my thoughts.

"Excuse me?"

A serious expression flashes across the merchant's face.

"That stunt you pulled up near Stormhill, a little birdie relayed the news. Roard, and the lot you killed, have met Destined Death."

...

Huh?

I don't know what he means, but the words Destined Death sound familiar. I'm sure Melina said something like that way back when, but I can't remember what she said.

Speaking of, Melina's light has started to waver back and forth next to me, like she began pacing.

How? Is all she says.

The heck is going on?

I face Kalé.

"Destined Death?"

He gives me an expression that practically bleeds: "come on, you know." He thinks I'm playing dumb. I sigh.

"Look, just assume that I don't know anything. What is Destined Death?"

Kalé's goes from unamused to incredulous.

"I know Tarnished are alien to these lands, but are you serious?"

I nod.

Kalé must see something in my eyes, because his go wide as he shakes his head.

"Like a serpent didn't even know they had fangs, you're serious." He says it all in one breath, his tone sounds like he's fascinated.

"You spat in Queen Marika's eye, and you didn't even know." He says it like it's the most ridiculous thing he's heard all day.

He chuckles to himself.

He finally claps a hand on my shoulder, never even bothering to tell me what Destined Death is.

"You, mate, have either been blessed by the Greater Will, or the evil witch Ranni herself cursed you."

"Hold on." I grab his hand, arresting him from moving around any further. "What's going on? What did I do?"

You gave Roard Destined Death.

"You gave Roard and his lot Destined Death."

I grimace.

"You mean I killed him?" I mockingly gesture to the partisan on my back with my free hand. "Of course I did, I even took his spear." '

I feel a pang of guilt; I brush it aside.

Kalé nearly laughs outright, that fear and suspicion in his eyes have all but vanished.

"No mate, you killed him, killed him. Good riddance. I never did like the dullard."

I'm feeling something welling up in my chest, a sense of dread. It hasn't materialized yet, like it's a word caught on the tip of my tongue. But I can feel it, I can tell. One piece is missing, and when that piece fits into place, I'll sink.

Kalé switches gears, frowning behind his cloth cover.

"By the by, it seems you prodded the wasp's nest by doing so; apparently all of Limgrave and Stormveil is up in arms."

I cock an eyebrow.

"What does that mean?"

"Godrick's looking for you, mate."

I shiver unintentionally. Kalé reiterates.

"More like he wants you. You and your Rune of Death."

That… that sounds bad.

Rune of Death sounds dangerous.

He goes on.

"It'll be impossible to cross Bellard Bridge now, not unless we want to get a hundred blades up our arse."

I tighten my grip on Kalé's arm. He still hasn't answered me. The growing dread is starting to choke up my words, drag down my legs, place ton after metric ton on my back. I need to know what I did wrong.

I must know.

"Kalé, listen to me. I know nothing. What did I do?"

Kalé sighs.

"If you really don't understand..."

He plucks my hand off his outstretched wrist; I let him do so.

"True death is unknown in these lands, mate. I myself have died quite a bit more than a handful of times."

My face goes slack, eyes widening to a depressing extent.

"No matter how many times fate claims us, no matter how much of ourselves we lose, we are always returned to the big tree, before we just get spat back out again." His eyes glitter. "But you did the impossible, mate. You killed Roard and made sure he's not coming back."

My growing dread completes, and it overflows into despair.

"You sent him back to the Greater Will."

I found myself on the floor not much later.

I needed to sit down, everything was tilting.

Kalé joins me, making himself comfortable, instrument already in his hands.

Melina doesn't say anything. She's either too shocked herself, or she herself believes that Kalé can explain this better than she can.

I can't keep my thoughts straight. First, Melina nearly leaves me, and now this? If I were in a good mood, I'd joke that fate was making sure I fit in when we get to the Weeping Peninsula.

It's a terrible joke; I feel terrible.

Kalé begins a small song, quietly fixing his strings' tunes; all of which gradually went sharp or flat during the rocky journey today.

I take in a deep breath.

"So, you're telling me, that I killed Roard and his soldiers, for good."

Kalé gives a self-serving nod.

"And that's not normal?"

The merchant jumps two octaves, fixing a string with an acute twist of a wooden knob.

"Not normal in the slightest. I was planning to ask why you didn't just kill the highwaymen a couple days back. Though I'm starting to see why."

I grimace.

"I don't want to kill people. I just didn't know I had a choice."

He jumps an octave.

"If I kill someone, not that I would, it would take about a day or so until they get revived. That's how it is for everyone in these lands."

Another octave jump, down this time.

"Things change if the Rune of Death is involved. It's bound for now, as it has been for a time. But it was stolen a few decades back; they say just a fragment was plucked off. But it's more than enough. It takes only a fragment of it to kill even a Demigod. Besides that fragment, not many other ways exist to send someone to the Greater Will. Figure if you have a fragment of the Rune of Death, then you'd be just like those 'Black Knives'."

He gestures to my sword with his instrument's bow; the blade is resting on the grass next to me.

"Famed assassins; they are. With terrible daggers that end their victims for good. Their blades are what carry their fragment's mark, hence their name. I would think you have the same standing, though I'm guessing your fragment isn't in that sharp stick of yours. Happen to know where it is?"

I shake my head.

"I don't know. Are you sure I have one of these fragments? Are you certain?

"As I said, no other way to kill someone for good. Roard never got back up, he's been laying in the middle of that town for a week now."

This doesn't make sense, things aren't adding up. The wanderers, those zombies underneath the Stranded Graveyard, they came back to life. They didn't die forever. Whenever I went back down there the next day, they would be walking around again, corpses from the previous day gone and, what I thought, reanimated again.

What rune? Where? What changed? When did it change? When did this fragment find me?

If it was after I met Melina...

The soldier I killed, in that makeshift cell, did he truly die?

Was he revived? Was he among those I killed when I stormed the camp?

Did I kill him again? Did I end his life for good a second time?

Lance, you must stop, you are spiraling.

I glance Kalé's way; he winces a little at the expression on my face.

"How do I turn it off?" I face more of my body his way. "If I turn it off, will it bring Roard and his soldiers back?"

Is there a way? Can I be forgiven for the lives I've taken? Is there hope?

I don't like the expression Kalé gives me.

"Not a clue. Don't think a rune can be turned on and off to begin with. And once someone grazes against the Rune of Death, there is no coming back. Such is Destined Death."

He shrugs.

"It's destiny, and all of that."

I feel terrible all over again, like I've killed Roard a second time, killed all those soldiers again. If they died by my blade, thinking they would be able to pick themselves back up the next day. If they didn't fight their best, because they didn't think of me as a threat. It's as if I lied to them. Shot them with a rifle disguised as a bb gun, killed them with a sharpened sword disguised as a plastic toy. I robbed them of a life they didn't know I could take.

I've done more than kill them.

Melina.

Turn it off.

I don't ask if she can. She needs to.

Lance, I do not know if it is possible.

I did not even know you had such a fragment. If you have it, then it is hidden.

I reside in your mind, in your light. It is not here.

If it is not in your mind, then I cannot change it.

Bullshit.

Turn it off.

"Mate, I'm not sure what land you come from, but-"

I cut Kalé off, turning my attention on him.

"That has nothing to do with this!"

I explode to my feet; the merchant shuffles a few paces away.

"Killing is wrong! Okay!? Why is everyone here fine with it!?"

"Because it's not permanent."

He says it in such a matter-of-fact way; I've never been this close to wanting to really hurt someone before just because of their words.

"That supposed to make me feel better!? What about me!? You're saying I'm one of the only people in this whole God-forsaken country that can really kill people, and I'm supposed to be okay with that!?"

I throw my hands into the air.

"You related me to assassins! A whole kingdom is looking for me now! How is any of this good!?"

"Never said it was. You are peculiar, but there are a countless number that would say you are a gift from the heavens."

I narrow my eyes.

"Take that back."

Kalé points at me with his bow.

"Sit down, will ya? Causing a scene."

I don't budge.

"Take it back."

He sighs; it's a perturbed sigh.

"Not planning on."

Before I can say anything, he continues.

"If it means anything to you, there are many things worse than Destined Death here."

"No chance. Death is the end of everything. Nothing's worse."

He turns my way, staring me down.

"No. there are far worse things. I don't think you heard me. When someone up and dies, however it happens, they lose a part of themselves."

Kalé begins to speak in earnest; losing the playful voice he's had since I've known him.

It takes me aback, I'm not sure when I find myself seated again.

"If you didn't happen to notice, people around here don't exactly look healthy. Their grey skin, wrinkled faces, and sad smiles? You think that's normal? We all used to look like you Tarnished lot, but I could take one look at someone these days, and easily guess how many times they've gone to the other side."

My pent-up anger slowly dies down.

"Whatever it be: old age, disease, accidents... violence? You name it, you revive from it. But not all of you returns."

Kalé is the closest I've ever seen him to being mad. He's not there, but he's definitely agitated.

"You understand what it is I'm getting at? Every time I died, I awoke a day later in the same spot I met my end; my skin a bit greyer, my face a bit looser; my mind a bit more lost, and my eyes a bit more dead."

He points a finger at his chest.

"I, and all the folks we tallied by in town, are considered the lucky ones. Those blithering fools you told me about -those half-dead halfwits wandering in caves- they are the unlucky ones. If I were to die enough, I would begin to lose my own flesh, my own conscience, and my own name. If I kicked the bucket enough, you couldn't discern me from any other wanderer. Same story with my peers; we might just have to watch our own loved ones descend into madness. Same story with the animals too; the dogs and insects around here have such a short lifespan; they all lost their minds and their bodies to decay long ago."

He takes a deep breath, shaking his head a little.

"And that's only from age. If you're a soldier, a prisoner, or a highwayman; you die so often in pointless battles that you would be lucky if you can even remember your own name. Gets worse too. If you get caught by some monster, you might get thrown into piles of corpses in their dens, where you will be their unlimited food source. You will be eaten alive, revive a day later, only to get eaten again. Again and again… poor bastards."

I'm feeling sick. My outburst feels foolish.

"If you get hung, then they leave you to hang. You die the first time when the rope snaps your neck, but you will continue to die every time after as you're slowly choked to death; until you're nothing but bones. And if you're crucified? You will spend your days until your death screaming in pain. Then you die, from dehydration or from your own arms crushing your organs. And as if it were a sick joke, you will revive, and undergo it over and over again."

Kalé shivers.

"But the worst part, and what we all fear, is that when we pass on enough times; we become nothing. Our bodies almost completely decayed, our minds long gone, until we are a walking pile of bones, mindlessly attacking anything we see. We become undead, aimlessly wandering and killing without a thought in our heads. Eventually, black roots of death will take us, devour what's left us us until we are nothing more than a lump of black thorns. They stuff people like those in coffins; the lids needing to be thick stone so we can't escape. Or, if we've been infected by death's root, they throw us into catacombs, locking the gate with a guardian inside so we can never roam the land again."

He puts away his instrument, fiddling with something.

"We live a doomed existence; this land will be nothing but walking corpses in a few centuries more. We all wait until we lose ourselves, shriveled up and haggard as we'll be. We're all a flame, slowly sputtering out, until eventually it will only be the long-living tortoises and the Demigods with their minds still intact."

He pauses, glancing me over. With a moment of hesitation, he lowers the cloth on his face.

"This scar, is the perfect symbol of the insanity of this land, and everything that's wrong with it. It was given to me by a certain monster with opposable thumbs and a repulsive grin. He sew my mouth shut, as he did the last 38 times he killed me. Time and time again, more agonizing than the last. I haven't died since, so this scar still plagues me."

Prisoner.

That word comes to mind. If someone comes back from death, I can only guess how brutal prisons are around here, considering you don't need to worry about them truly dying on you. You could just leave them locked up for centuries, toss the key and forget about them. Or you can execute them over and over, 38 times over, using a new tool every time; making sure to sow their mouths shut so they can't scream.

I gulp, feeling uncomfortable now more than ever.

"Did you kill him?"

Killing is wrong...

But...

Kalé retreats to his tent, his mouth and scar still exposed.

"No, I didn't kill him."

"You didn't?"

He gives me a toothy, almost evil grin.

"No."

"I plucked out his eyes. And shoved them down his throat."

I'm lying in my tent, wide awake.

I don't know what to think about; these past few hours have been too much for me.

It felt like it all happened so fast.

Melina?

That light hovers over; it looks bigger now than how I remember it. Instead of golf ball sized, it's closer to an apple, or a small grapefruit.

I say size, but Melina's light has no body. I guess I'm just saying her glow has gotten stronger.

Yes?

Is everything he said true?

…Yes.

His understanding of how death works is not complete; there is much more to this land than even its residents know. But he spoke from experience, and his words were true.

Through the breaches, I have traveled far and wide, and I have seen much suffering.

Like, the corpse piles?

And the crucified people?

And... the death root stuff?

Yes. It is all a common occurrence here.

Death is not constant, but suffering and torment is.

The people we have come across here in Limgrave are among the best off; it is not much better anywhere else.

…This is hell after all.

I turn, lying sideways.

My sleeping bag is a thin thing, barely acceptable as bedding. It's still leagues better than sleeping on the ground.

Sleeping is the last thing on my mind.

How he was talking; he sounded like he wanted me to do something about all this.

He said I was a blessing from the heavens. I can only guess what he meant, after hearing everything he had to say.

…Is he wanting me to kill people?

He is surely interested in you now, I would suggest that we remain vigilant.

If you truly can deliver Destined Death, there are many that will want to use you.

Others may come to kill you, before you get a chance to kill them.

There may also be some still, that will seek you out… so that you may end their suffering.

I frown.

Couldn't I just save them instead?

How do you mean?

Like, cut them down if they're being hanged, or rescue them from monster dens? Just become Elden Lord and stop the wars? Somehow make everyone go back to normal?

It's short-sighted and childish; I could tell as much as I thought it up. No such perfect existence exists.

Many that are left to continuously die have already lost their humanity; they have become corrupted or reduced to nothing.

The rescue they want may be what only you and the Black Knives provide.

Putting people out of their misery then?

Yes. If they want to be freed from their suffering, then you could surely rescue them.

My stomach's churning in my gut; I'm starting to feel sick.

This is all so messed up.

Imma try and get some sleep. I need to think about all of this.

I wish I could pretend I didn't know; I really wish I could. Go back to trying not to kill people, trying to escort Kalé home, and biding my time until I know how to help get Melina to the base of the Erdtree.

But word's already out: there is a Tarnished that can deliver "Destined Death."

Everything changes, just like that.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

There's no way I'm sleeping tonight.