Chapter 1

Silence had been all that enveloped the far off Haligtree for what had seemed to be ages, a time of nought but stagnation and rot. The once glorious and thriving haven for all those who had sworn loyalty to Miquella. That is, until one had entered into the hollowed out roots of the massive tree, where she had rested. keeping a constant vigil in hopes that her dear brother would one day return. Malenia, The Severed, Malenia, Blade Of Miquella, a legend known across all the Lands Between, known to any tarnished who had hopes of becoming Elden Lord. and yet, it was known to others who had no hopes nor dreams of vying for the power of the Elden Ring.

One tarnished in particular, one with no renown nor name, had set his sights upon challenging her for his own, seemingly unknown reasons. He had battled his way through the Haligtree, where he fell all who stood before him on his path to the roots of the massive tree. Garbed in simple armor, and wielding a coiled sword that spewed black flames, he had slayed even Loretta, sworn knight of the Haligtree, on his path downwards. Eventually, he stood at the bottom, a serene grotto, filled with a small pond of water and an abundance of lilies, and on the other end, his opponent, Malenia.

She had slept for so, so very long. A long, uninterrupted dream. A dream of past battles, of past altercations and conflicts, mainly, with those of her half brother, General Radahn. Of her failure to keep her... Curse, her affliction, at bay. She had let it run amok during her fight with him, and had sworn not to do so again, fearing what the ramifications could be not only for her, but for all that be around her, whether it be the land itself or its people that inhabit it. She had awoken however, a faint breeze blowing across her face, a presence at the entrance to the grotto. She moved, making the action to get up, finding it hard and painful after her long sleep. She slowly bent down, picking up her prosthesis as she did so, and with some difficulty, putting it back into its place. She grunted as she did so, the rot was taking more and more of a toll on her with each passing month, each week, and each day. Despite having lived with it since birth, it still, slowly, ate away at her, painfully. She would not let any other know of this however, not even her dear Miquella should have to know how much it ailed her. After having slotted the prosthesis in however, she grabbed her helmet, putting it on, looking towards the tarnished as best she could with her ever-rotting eyes, making things appear blurry and unfocused in the best of moments. She saw him stand there, bowing to her as she acknowledged him. She smiled softly, seeing as he looked to respect her greatly, she bowed in return before brandishing her blade, knowing this tarnished was here for a duel. As he readied his blade in return, she charged forward.

The two clashed blades for what felt like ages, the clanging of their weapons constantly ringing in both of the combatants' ears, yet neither had yet to take a blow. The conflict was held in stalemate, with neither side gaining the advantage. The tarnished, however, grew more and more fatigued as the battle raged on, his movements becoming more sluggish with each slash or thrust of his blade. While he was still managing to match her blows for now, his focus was slipping more and more.

Knowing the bout would not last much longer, seeing as the tarnished seemingly meager stamina was fading, Malenia acted. As the tarnished attempted to roll away, or rather, into her for a strike, she slashed downwards and buried her blade into his left shoulder, nearly slicing clean through and severing his sword arm. At that same moment however, he thrusted forwards with his sword as she struck, landing a solid blow that had loosened her prosthesis. Sending not only it, but her sword and the tarnished's left arm clanging against the ground loudly.

The tarnished kneeled on the ground and clutched the bleeding stub with his right arm. He stared up at Malenia, who towered above him. The wind was blowing against her as she simply stood there.

"It was a battle well fought, Tarnished." she said, then slowly crouched down to his level. She picked up and reattached her prosthetic arm back into its place, a loud squelching sound echoed throughout the grotto as she did so.

"But why come to challenge me, if you knew all that would occur is your defeat?" she asked whilst staring at the tarnished. Silently gripping the spot where his arm had been, the dripping of the blood hitting the water as he simply kneeled there. Either choosing not to answer, or being unable to do so.

"And furthermore, you could have simply rolled away, taken a scar upon the back, instead of the loss of a limb, why continue the attack?" she asked plainly. With this question, the tarnished attempted to stand up, stumbling as he did so however. To Malenia, it appeared he was garbed in attire hailing from the land of reeds. Furthermore, it seemed as though he had a small, mostly healed over scar going over the front part of his neck, clearly explaining his lack of speech.

"Do you hail from the Land of Reeds, Tarnished?" she asked. As she did so, she began to walk around the Tarnished, slowly, observing him. He nodded in response, watching her as she went around him, her sword still clenched tightly in her hand.

"I see. I've heard before that your people often have the idea that scars on the back were a swordsman's shame, would this perhaps be the reason?" as she asked this, the tarnished nodded slowly, a surprised look upon his face as he did so.

"Why are you so surprised, young tarnished? My brother was well traveled and informed, and learned much of not only your peoples, but of many others. My dear, dear Miquella.." while difficult to tell under her helmet, a hint of sorrow could be seen on her face as she thought back to her brother. The Tarnished looked to her as she said this, knowing that he had heard this name before, he motioned towards her, attempting to let her know. She looked at him, as best she could once he got her attention, noting how he still clutched his shoulder.

"Tarnished, do you happen to know something?" she asked. He nodded quickly in response. She noted this, and walked over to the lone chair near the thickest of the roots, beckoning the Tarnished over. He slowly stumbled over, still leaking blood, although that had slowed as time was passing.

"Sit." she said to him, moving so that he could sit. As he did so, she grabbed her cape, ripping off a sizable piece of it. She knelt down at his side, and using only her prosthetic, began to wrap the Tarnished shoulder as he began to sip on a flask with his free, and now only, hand. He shuddered as the cold metal of her hand touched his wound, but did not move as she worked.

"Tarnished, I would offer thee an accord for this, a deal, if you will" she said, not looking up as she worked to fully cover his shoulder. "You know of my brother, Miquella, and information pertaining to him and his whereabouts, do you not?"

The tarnished nodded, very much knowing of the Empyrean in question, and having personal experience of knowing where he dwelt. His hand put the flask away and drifted up to his neck, feeling the scar that went across it.

"Good, in exchange for helping with your new loss of a limb, I wish for you to help me find my dear Miquella. Does this sound agreeable?" she looked up at him now, blurry as he was to her. "Otherwise… I could simply let this wound fester, and let the vile pests outside treat you, in whatever way they please." This quickly elicited a nod of agreement from the Tarnished. She greatly appreciated his obedience.

She watched however, as the tarnished rose from the chair. He slowly began shuffling over to where his limb layed on the ground. He stared at it for a moment, with what might have been taken as a look of longing on his face. He crouched down slowly, and took the blade from the now cold and clammy hand. It seemed to feel unfamiliar, off in his right hand as he held it aloft. Although, it clearly mattered little to the tarnished, who quickly began practicing with it, slashing it back and forth. She smiled, although the tarnished could not see her do so. She respected his drive to improve, to take up the blade again even after such a loss. However admirable it may be though, she wished to return to her line of questioning.

"I take it you shall lead me to this place where you heard of my dear Miquella?" she asked him. He halted for a moment, turning back to nod to her in agreement.

"Very well then, tomorrow, we shall depart '' she said. Taking a seat in her chair, watching the tarnished practice his form, trying to re-learn how to use his very own blade. Tomorrow would begin the journey, the journey for her to find her dear brother, Miquella.