He who does not travel, who does not read,
who can not hear music,
who does not find Grace in himself,
she who does not find Grace in herself,
dies slowly.
********
The first time Ranni the Witch met Mikael, she thought Melina had mistakenly chosen her champion.
The Demigod had approached the man after hearing rumours of a tarnished wandering Limgrave upon a spectral steed.
While her network was not as wide-ranging as it had once been (Marika's Black Knives turned from her after that fateful night), such a phenomenon was noteworthy enough to reach her ears.
She had done as Torrent's former master asked and bequeathed the Spirit Steed's new owner a Spirit Calling Bell and a set of ashes. Her few minutes in his company had shown her one thing.
Melina's tarnished, Mikael, was a fool.
A charming, funny fool but one nonetheless.
While Ranni had assumed the name Renna, as was her custom when projecting beyond the Manor, any tarnished worth their salt should have made at least the essential preparations for combat upon her appearance.
Since the Shattering, the Lands Between was not such a kind place that encounters with unknown people were a good thing.
Instead, Mikael had approached her fearlessly, made jokes, and seemed unconcerned that she could slay him with but a thought if she weren't bound to inaction. Though he would return, as Destined Death remained chained and he was yet blessed with Grace, even one death was usually traumatic enough for most tarnished to go mad.
Ranni dissipated her projection in a melancholy mood.
She was sure this was the last she would hear about the fool.
She felt terrible for Melina, whose hopes would be let down. She felt worse for poor Torrent. No doubt he would lose another master.
In a way, Ranni even pitied the fool of a tarnished.
Those few good-natured tarnished, led astray by the Two-Fingers, did not deserve to be caught up in her family's struggles for power or the machinations of the other eldritch beings.
That is why she set out upon this terrible and lonely path, to remove the temptation of Order from the world.
Her only remaining companions were dear Blaidd, stalwart Iji, and Adula. They all knew none of them could take that final step with her. The Black Knives had left her, accomplishing their goal after slaying Godwyn and other demigods on that dark night. Seluvis could only be trusted to betray her.
And Darriwil... well, Blaidd would find him soon enough and put the traitor to rest.
With these lonely thoughts, Ranni reappeared upon her tower and waited for her Shadow to return. This doll's body, modelled after her mentor, needed neither sustenance nor sleep. Despite so, Ranni chose to rest when she could to lessen the strain on it, as no mere doll could hold the absolute power of a Demigod, least of all an Empyrean such as her.
In her sleep, she could wait.
Wait for the day Ranni was freed from the chains of her fate.
Wait to be able to act against her Two-Fingers.
Ranni stirred again years later, torn from her torpor by Blaidd's approach.
As she expected, he returned with Darriwil's head. Needing but one glance to confirm it, the Demigod had him throw it from the tower.
Let the dogs or the birds have him. Her mood would not improve with the reminder of his betrayal.
The only thing of note was Blaidd's report on the operation. Her Shadow claimed a tarnished had aided him with slaying the Bloodhound Knight. The wolfman spoke at length about the man's skill at arms. He claimed to have recommended the warrior to visit Iji.
Ranni applauded his initiative.
Her 'faction,' small as it was, could use all the help they could get.
Currently, only Blaidd was able to venture beyond the Manor. Any able-bodied and skilled warriors would be a force multiplier even if they only provided another set of eyes. The former Empyeran inquired further upon this capable tarnished.
As the witch listened to her Shadow elaborate, she thanked her doll body for the ability to remain expressionless. It wouldn't do for her followers to see her slack-jawed in surprise.
One's image was important, after all.
Melina's buffoon of a tarnished was this skilled warrior?
How long had she rested?
Perhaps his time in the Lands Between had changed him. While he was tarnished and thus wouldn't die, he was still mortal. They changed faster than most people she knew.
Still, once a fool, always a fool.
The tarnished had learned to fight, but character judgement and discernment were more critical in navigating the warring factions and the politics of the Roundtable Hold.
One wrong word or errant joke, and the Two-Finger's Confessors would hunt him down.
Ranni did not doubt that his loud mouth would spell his doom eventually.
After the tale was finished, Ranni congratulated her Shadow again before urging him to return to Siofra. While Darriwil's betrayal had hurt, and the time wasted on his hunt set them back, he was only a side story. A distraction from finding the real goal.
The Fingerslaying Blade.
As Blaidd left, the Demigod mused on the transient nature of mortals for a bit more before rendering her doll inert again.
She stayed that way for over a decade.
Every once in a while, she would connect with her companions. Iji remained on watch at his forge. Seluvis continued to tinker with his puppets. Blaidd continued to search for Nokron.
The Lands Between remained in its perpetual state, unchanged for centuries.
Then the news reached her ears.
Godrick had fallen.
A tarnished from beyond the fog had claimed a shard of the Elden Ring.
Had Ranni needed to breathe, she would have choked on air.
Something like this... it wasn't possible.
The War of the Shattering was between those related to Queen Marika the Eternal.
Certainly, there were some formidable tarnished out there.
Those such as Sir Gideon Ofnir and Fia formed their own faction or joined existing ones. Occasionally a tarnished of renown would cross the fog and attempt to fell the Demigods. The strongest had been Vyke, but he had been driven mad well before slaying one.
None ever succeeded in claiming a Great Rune.
The first Elden Lord and forefather of the tarnished, Horax Loux, had made his conquests with the aid of Marika. Since his banishment millennia ago, the tarnished had no voice in deciding the fate of the Lands Between and the world. Though they received Grace once more, that fact persisted, despite what the Roundtable Hold thought.
A Great Rune of the Elden Ring wasn't just a power source.
It was legitimacy.
One would be entitled to be crowned Elden Lord by holding more than one. The Great Runes were such force multipliers that if any of the Demigods held two or more shards, they would be able to defeat the others.
Whoever this tarnished was, they needed only to claim one more Great Rune and then face Morgott at the foot of the Erdtree, and they could stand before Marika by right.
A pit formed in Ranni's stomach after she got over her surprise at the news.
Godrick had always been the least of the Demigods, more so after his defeat at Malenia's hands. Mighty because of his lineage, not for any actual value of strength. Only her half-sister's disdain for all those but her twin that had spared the Grafted that day. If one of the Demigods were to fall, it would be him.
He had been such an obvious target.
The next target, however, was just as obvious.
Her mother.
The Great Rune of the Unborn was not one of the great shards claimed after the Elden Ring was split before the Shattering of Order.
Rennala played no part in the War, sequestered away in her library. Ranni had been happy to leave her mother there. While she was still mad with despair after her father's betrayal, her sweetings provided her with company, and she was safe from the outside world.
But the outside world would be coming to get her now.
Either the vultures would come or, worse, the tarnished who had slain Godrick.
Ranni had deployed what defences she could, which, unfortunately, wasn't much. She was still bound to hide until she had the finger-slaying blade, so she hatched a plot.
She was good at those.
To conserve power, as well as hide her involvement, Ranni crafted but two spells.
The first was a simple alert and vigilance spell that had been present before, but Ranni took the chance to upgrade it. It would let her know when alien beings breached the library and allow her to view the location remotely. Her mother's sweetings would defeat the vultures and the weak, so Ranni needed only care for the truly dangerous.
Her second spell was much more complex.
An illusion, the likes of which she had never woven before. It would recreate the Rennala of Ranni's childhood. With her full majesty and powers.
Any foe wishing to slay the Full Moon Queen must face her at her peak, as Radagon did millennia ago. As extra insurance, Ranni added Ashes of her companions to the illusion.
She hoped they would never be needed.
Any foe that could triumph over all that would be one Ranni couldn't face as she was, trapped in her tower. If an invader overcame all that, all the Demigod would be able to do was pray that the victor would claim the Great Rune and leave her mother in peace.
Unlike the other Great Runes, the Unborn was not internalized by its holder but rather fused into the amber her mother held. Renalla's murder was not required to retrieve it.
But the tarnished could be cruel and vicious in their desire for power.
Her work done, Ranni sat back and waited.
She was sure that after the first few invaders were slaughtered, others would wise up and seek other prey.
The Demigod was unsurprised a few years later when her first spell tripped, alerting her to an invader in her mother's chamber.
Ranni was surprised upon seeing who it was.
**
"Are these children?" Melina's tarnished asked.
What was his name again? Ranni hadn't talked to him in two decades.
All she remembered was that he was Torrent's current master and a fool.
The man had entered the library wary and ready for battle. Clearly, his two decades in the Lands Between had taught him caution.
However, it did not seem to stop his mouth.
He had surveyed the room, spotted her mother in her cocoon and turned his attention to the sweetings that covered the floor—all four score of them.
"Stop that!" He said, stepping over one that had tried to grab him. He ducked another's tossed book. "Hey! Don't do that! I want to read these."
While the sweetings were determined to protect Renalla, their ability to do so was limited. The greatest challenge they posed was impediments to his walking. The tarnished wasted no time discovering the key to her mother's spell. He turned to the singing students and knocked them out with his blade's sheath.
The only time Ranni ever saw the man so much as sweat was when a few of the impaired students attempted to breathe fire at him.
"You philistines!" He swore, ducking out of the way. "These are books! That's fire! Never shall the two meet!" He swung his sheath, knocking the offending student out.
Wasting no time, he jumped upon the flames that had caught on the books and put them out quickly.
Perhaps, had the sweetings been in a better state of mind, they could have used his concern for the library against him. But the thought never entered their naive little heads, and it took less than five minutes for the tarnished to incapacitate all the students supporting her mother.
The man kept up his inane babble, cracking jokes and making puns.
Rennala fell, her golden cocoon shattered, and the tarnished made his leisurely approach.
"Sorry about this," he said casually. He finally unsheathed his blade, a magic one from the Land of Reeds. "From where you're lying, it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck. Truth is... the game was rigged from the start."
Ranni invoked her spell.
"Upon my name as Ranni the Witch. Mother's rich slumber shall not be disturbed by thee. Foul trespasser. Send word far and wide. Of the last Queen of Caria, Rennala of the Full Moon. And the majesty of the night she conjureth."
At her words, the tarnished flinched, looking around the library.
Then the world changed.
Gone were the library and the sweetings.
In its place was an ocean of blue, upon which the man stood.
A tremendous white moon hovered behind her mother.
This wasn't the pitiful, heartbroken woman who had lost her husband and daughter.
This was Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon. The woman who fought the second Elden Lord to a standstill.
"Rom?" The tarnished said stupidly, blinking in surprise.
That should have been his last word as a Comet Azur tore through his standing place with the power to destroy castles.
Somehow and someway, the tarnished managed to dodge by rolling away in an ungraceful heap.
No matter, one lucky escape would not change his fate. He would die here as often as it took to convey the message to the world that Rennala was not to be touched.
Perhaps Ranni would inform Melina to steer her tarnished towards the other Demigods.
After a few deaths, of course.
Her tarnished had tried to kill Ranni's mother, after all.
It took a bit for the Demigod to recognize the change.
It was subtle at first.
What rose from that undignified heap on the ground was not the tarnished Ranni knew.
He stood, evading a shower of stars with deft footwork by the tiniest margins. He approached Rennala in a dash, but a crystal burst pushed him back.
That, too, he managed to dodge.
The homing mass of crystals her mother summoned was deflected on his shield. Any spell that the Queen cast was either evaded, deflected or blocked. While the woman could barely keep him away, the tarnished was steadily making his way forward.
As the seconds of battle ticked away, spells were dodged by a fraction of an inch; Ranni tried to put together what was different about him. Then she realized;
He had not said a word in minutes.
No joking, no laughing, no casual and easy dismissal. He did not grunt when blocking, nor did he pant from exertion.
As the minutes passed and her mother started accumulating little cuts from occasional strikes, Ranni realized she would lose.
Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon, would lose to some no-name tarnished.
The man never had the opportunity for a finishing strike, but damage still accumulated.
Ranni would not allow that to happen.
The Demigod had hoped not to need this feature of her spell.
So far, everything that had happened could be attributed to her mother. People would think that her faculties had returned in a moment of danger. Ranni's faction was understaffed, and she was tower-bound. Secrecy and shadow were her best defences after she had faked her death centuries ago.
But this was her mother.
For her mother, she would risk revealing her survival.
Besides, so long as her exact location wasn't known, it wasn't the end of the world.
The spiritual form of Adula appeared behind the Queen, a blue flame of glintstone sorceries gathering in his jaws.
The blast of magical power was met by a roar of fire from the tarnished's mouth. While the explosion was mitigated, steam rose from the conflagration, inhibiting the tarnished's vision.
The man almost died to the blade of Darriwill as the spectral Bloodhound Knight stabbed him from behind.
Whatever preternatural reflexes the man possessed saved his life, but the blade cut a swath of his shield arm open. No sound escaped the tarnished as the man twisted away.
He was met with the towering form of Iji, the troll already swinging his hammer down to crush the interloper into a paste.
Somehow, the tarnished managed to lift his mangled arm, despite the immense pain he must be in. He deflected the blow rather than take it full on.
The shadow of her Shadow dealt the first real blow of the fight.
The spectral wolfman swung the Royal Greatsword and separated the extended arm from its shoulder.
The tarnished, still eerily silent, impaled the imitation of Blaidd through the armpit before it could recover from its swing.
It didn't matter.
The imitation ashes were only there to buy her mother a few moments. Their disarming of the tarnished was a boon but not necessary for victory.
In war, the duty of the frontlines was to gather time for the sorcerers to craft their greatest spells.
Rennala's Full Moon, the spell which had carved her name into legend as it decimated countries, descended on the tarnished.
Handicapped, bleeding, and in pain as he was, he could not even try to evade.
The blast was cataclysmic.
Power boiled out from the epicentre, covering a radius large enough to change maps. Had this been the real world, Raya Lucaria would be a memory, and Liurnia would have a new lake.
Nothing but a god could have survived the blast of magic; even then, they wouldn't be unharmed.
As the illusion of Rennala floated to the ground, Ranni was prepared to dismiss her spell.
The Demigod was certain she had made her point.
A blade burst from Rennala's chest.
The tarnished, in a second, removed it and swung.
The Queen of the Full Moon's head fell at her feet.
Ranni watched, numb in surprise.
How!?
There was no way he could have survived that blast.
The illusion started to dissipate. As it did, Ranni watched the tarnished use his one good hand to sheath his sword. He bent down and picked up two items at his feet. The first was a seal of the Dragon Communion. The other was a Flask filled with opaline water.
Despite herself and all the worry she held for her mother's fate, Ranni could not help the honest admiration that welled in her cold, lifeless chest.
What a marvellous plot.
To snatch victory from the moment of defeat.
The Demigod watched, terrified, as Melina's tarnished approached her mother. Her real mother.
The illusionary world was long gone, and in its place was a woman cradling a piece of amber, cooing softly to it.
Ranni's last hope fell.
Rennala was too far gone to put up any more of a fight.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
The tarnished made no move to redraw his weapon, instead placing his hand upon the amber. When he withdrew his palm, a Great Rune was floating in it.
Smaller than any others, the Great Rune of the Unborn still marked this tarnished as a valid contender for the throne.
Ranni watched the tarnished walk from the library, picking up his severed arm and shield as he passed.
For the first time, her unmolested mother spoke words that were not insane babbling or cooing indulgences to the amber.
"Oh, little Ranni, my dear daughter." The Demigods felt emotion well in her chest. Her mother was lucid enough to have recognized her spells. "Weave thy night into being."
"I will, mother." Though there would be no way for the Carian Queen to hear her, immaterial as Ranni was, the woman's face curved into a small, hidden smile.
Looking at that rare expression on the beautiful woman's face, Ranni finally remembered.
Mikael.
That was his name.
********
Ranni thanked her doll body once more.
She could fidget all she wanted in her spiritual form, and her physical form would remain a picture of composed grace.
One of the earliest lessons her mother had taught her was the importance of image and reputation.
It had served her well over the centuries and would do so here.
The Demigod eyed the almanac as steps echoed in the distance.
The book was of suitable thickness and of a size with the others she was already sitting on. She had debated with herself back and forth on whether to add it to the pile when Iji had alerted her to Mikael's impending arrival.
This would be the first visit to her tower since the Night of the Black Knives.
More than that, this tarnished already possessed the qualifications to vie for the title of Elden Lord. Perhaps of most import was that the tarnished was currently unaffiliated with any current faction.
Melina was not included, of course.
He was already friendly with Blaidd. If she could leverage his aid, the search for the Fingerslaying blade would be so much easier. Any more than that would be on her alone to secure his loyalty.
To facilitate such an offer, the image Ranni presented was vital.
In the end, the Demigod ruled that the almanac was too large.
It would place her above his eye level, which had benefits, but it would be too obvious.
As it was, the three books and a cushion already under her were already poking out a bit from the cover. Her cloak could hide the edges, but her image would be ruined if Mikael discovered the trick.
Ranni had no more time for frivolous thoughts as Mikael entered the room.
He was an imposing sight.
While shorter than Blaidd, he was taller than most tarnished. Despite being garbed in armour similar to that of the Kaiden Sellswords, his presence was lackadaisical. His weapons, a great bow and an eastern sword, were put away.
He held himself as a jester or a fop, with no tension in his body. He walked confidently and casually as if entering his home, not a Demigod's tower.
Of the fearsome man that slew Rennala of the Full Moon, Ranni could see nothing.
"Oh, again we cross paths," she said as casually as she could. While silence could be an effective tool in diplomacy, it wouldn't have the effect she desired. "I believe I said my name was Renna when last we met. It pleaseth me to see Torrent hale and hearty..." The spectral steed was visible to her and looked well taken care of. Ranni paused, letting the moment hang in case he would interject. He didn't. His draconic eyes casually swept the room around them once before refocusing on her. "But tarnished, what business hast thou here? I have no memory of inking thee an invitation."
A polite way of saying that he better have a good reason for barging in.
"Renna," he said in a contemplative way. She could hear the teasing smile in his voice as he looked down at her. Why was he so tall? Her doll body's short stature was never significant before now. "See, I heard differently. Word on the wind is that you are Ranni the Witch. The one behind the Night of the Black Knives. Also, the one that almost killed me in Raya Lucaria."
"I see. Quite the sleuth, aren't we." While Ranni missed the larger frame of her original body, she was glad the tarnished had no way of seeing her blush in embarrassment. She hadn't known him to be so well informed nor to remember her words from the library. That was years ago. Still, this could be useful. "Tis true, I stole a fragment of the Rune of Death and used it to forge the god slaying black knives through fearsome rite. I did it all. What matters it to thee?"
"To be honest, I don't really care," the tarnished's armour and weapons jangled as he shrugged. "I'm doing a fetch quest for someone else. They have something I want, and to get it, I need to get the cursemark that you supposedly have."
"Sadly for thee, the cursemark thou seekest is not to be found here," Ranni said, the words a bit colder than she had intended. He wasn't here at Blaidd's urging but at the behest of another faction. Probably those who gathered around her deceased half-kin. "I have slain the body I was born into and cast it away. And it is upon that flesh the cursemark is carved."
"That's... pretty cool, actually." Mikeal nodded in surprised approval at her words. A thrill of pleasure shot through her. The first praise she had received in centuries. She had been almost entirely alone since the plot. "To toss away your body like years old clothes takes some hardcore dedication. But if you're not using it anymore, could you point me in its direction?"
"And why should I reveal that to thee?" Ranni saw an opportunity here. The tarnished was on this quest for a reward. That implied a certain mercenary mindset that she could work with. "I performed the act not to bury the past, nor in shame of the deed. If thou wish the information, begging shall not compel me. Rather, wouldst thou render me aid? Enter my service for a time, and thou shalt have thy location."
"A chain fetch quest?" Mikael sighed before waving his hand casually, urging her to continue.
One day, she would need to reprimand him for his manners.
"There is, in my service, a half-wolven warrior by the name of Blaidd whom thou are familiar with. I would have thee join him in searching for the hidden treasure of Nokron, the Eternal City."
"What are you looking for?" He tilted his head inquisitively.
"The Fingerslaying blade," she said seriously. "Should thou accept, once it is in my possession, the cursemark shall be thine."
"Hm," he hummed in thought. "Blaidd is a cool guy and all, but if I'm going to do this, then there needs to be a few caveats."
"Thou would bargain with a Demigod?" Ranni asked in surprise. Did his audacity know no bounds?
"Doll, please." The way he said 'doll' made the woman believe he was not referencing her physical form. "Gods, Demigods, Devils, Demons, and Dragons do not matter to me. At the end of the game, both the king and the pawn go in the same box."
That was a good saying, Ranni thought. She would have to use it later.
"Very well, state your terms tarnished."
"I don't mind dying," Mikael said casually. "Fighting and killing are also easy for me. While I'm working for you, however, I will not be tied down. There are other things I need to do in the Lands Between."
"If thou should prove instrumental in acquiring the blade, your wanderings will not be inhibited." It wasn't a hard request to acknowledge. It wasn't like she could exert much control anyway. "However, should thou provide no benefit in the search, or worse, prove a detriment, then thou shalt never have the cursemark."
"We have a deal then," the tarnished nodded to himself. "Where to, your handliness?"
First 'doll' and now 'handliness?' His foolishness had not abated the least in all these years.
"I shall call for Blaidd to greet thee below." With barely an effort, Ranni called forth a projection of her men at the bottom of her Rise. No need for them to actually move. "Take from him the particulars. Ah, and there wilt thou find Iji, my war counsellor, and Seluvis, preceptor in the sorcerous arts, also. Heed not their peculiarities; feel secure in gaining what advantage thou canst from them. I am sure the others will be doing just the same."
"I've met two of them already," Mikael shook his head in wry amusement. "You keep odd company for a Demigod."
"It hath been a passing long time since a newcomer entered my service," she acknowledged.
"Well, if nothing else, a treasure hunt sounds fun." He rolled his shoulders and made for the exit before pausing. "I have a few contacts I can hit up about possible locations for Nokron. Anything else I need to be aware of?"
"Allow me to forewarn thee. I shall soon enter my slumber. And it will be some time before I wake." Ranni had been more active in the last few decades than in centuries. That drew power the doll was not used to. "This doll's body is not without its hindrances... Still, I have high hopes for thee. I look forward to the good news when I arise."
"Sleep tight," Mikael did an odd wave as he walked away, his wrist twisting in casual dismissal. What a peculiar manner of farewell. "Don't let the bed bugs bite."
Ranni watched the odd tarnished descend the stairs. She had to stay awake a bit longer to maintain her companion's projections.
Left by herself once more, the Demigod eyed the almanac once more.
She stood, walked to the book, and returned it to her chair. Ranni placed the thick tome under the blanket, carefully arranging the cover once more to hide as much as possible before she retook her seat.
The next few minutes were spent meticulously moving her cloak to hide her newly gained height.
Let's see Mikael look down on her now!
********
"Doo-do-do-dooooo," the tarnished pantomimed a trumpet with his hands as he entered her room upon the tower.
He walked as casually as he had all those years ago, uncaring that he was entering the place of power of Ranni the Witch.
Uncaring that he had changed the world.
Ranni fought not to stare.
For several reasons.
This was partially because Mikael was not wearing a helmet, allowing her to get a good look at the tarnished's face for the first time.
Most apparent were his yellow, draconic eyes. His partaking in Dragon Communion was well known in the Lands Between. He was the first in millennia and had progressed the furthest without succumbing to its mad taint than any before.
Most who succeeded in the ritual went mad after their first consumption of a heart, transforming into the magma wyrms that were their fate. Before Mikael, the most successful had been Theoderix, a hero of renown who had managed to consume three before succumbing.
According to Blaidd, Mikael claimed to have consumed nine draconic hearts.
The rest of his face told Ranni as much about him as his eyes.
His skin was tanned, as was expected of someone in his profession, but did not show the wear and tear of the road. He had squarish features with only a hint of roundness around the cheeks. He appeared to be a crossbreed between the standard type of the tarnished and a Numen.
His hair was dark, almost black, and fell to his shoulders in wavy layers. It was well cared for, lacking the issues most faced when they wore helmets most of the time. This spoke of regular care and effort, bathing regularly, which was rare for the warrior type.
It all presented an image of an above-average-looking man, likely of noble stock, who took care of himself.
Ranni's guess all those years ago would probably be correct on looks alone: some noble-born fop. Someone more concerned with worming his way into a noble lady's pants than with the real concerns of his realm.
That impression was wholly wrong, as Ranni now knew.
"I welcome thee, tarnished," Ranni said after his little fanfare finished. The doll remained the picture of calm, not showing the emotions warring within the Demigod. "I hath heard tales of thy travels. Pray tell me, why hath thy returned."
"I come bearing gifts," he said grandly. He performed an over-the-top bow, his hand flashing for a moment, and there it was.
The Fingerslaying blade.
She had been searching for it for centuries, and this tarnished had discovered its location and retrieved it in under ten years.
Ranni toyed with the item idly for a moment, Mikael standing up and watching her do it.
Such a small thing, such a huge impact.
"I thank thee, brave tarnished. It was thee, not Blaidd, who retrieved the hidden treasure of Nokron." A wealth of emotion welled up in her, but she pushed them aside for now. There were things she had to know before the departure. "If thou has the time, I would hear of thy tale from thine lips."
"Sure," Mikael leaned against the wall relaxedly, eyeing her. "By the way, did you get taller?"
"What led to the discovery of the blade?" Ranni asked, ignoring his question.
The doll didn't move or fidget, and she was careful not to dislodge the blanket or her cloak.
"I went to Siofra like you said. Beautiful place, even if Torrent still doesn't like being underground. Met up with Blaidd, and we explored for a while. Killed a ghost moose and a draconic giant. But we never found a way to Nokron even after years of exploration."
Ranni was not surprised. Blaidd had been searching for centuries with no success.
But what was a 'moose?'
"I got in touch with a few people," Mikael continued. "One of them, my teacher in sorcery, was able to point me in the right direction. She said your fate is tied to the stars, and Radahn was holding them in place. The next festival was less than a year away, so I let Blaidd know, bummed around the Plateau for a bit, and we met up at Redmane." The tarnished grinned, his eyes distant.
"Where thou slew my brother," Ranni said simply.
As if killing one of the greatest warriors the world had ever seen was simple.
As if doing what Malenia, Blade of Miquella, couldn't was an everyday thing.
Starscourge Radahn was infected with Rot and half mad. He dedicated most of his power to holding back the stars and protecting Leonard.
Despite all this, he had never been felled, even after centuries of warriors pitting themselves against him.
Over a hundred years ago, Blaidd joined one of the festivals. The wolfman was a warrior with few equals and had been accompanied by dozens of skilled combatants.
They were all slaughtered.
They had pitted themselves against the general for seven days and seven nights in a struggle as fearsome as any before.
They had all been found wanting.
Radahn had fought for the entire week, outnumbered and without rest. He emerged triumphant, carrying out his wandering of the Wailing Dunes while his foes retreated in despair and anguish.
Now, only a few sought to join the festivals. What was once a gathering of dozens had shrunken to a handful. Nobody truly believed Radahn could be beaten.
The tarnished before her proved otherwise.
"Yep," Mikael popped the 'p' as he continued to grin in fond reminiscence. "Those were a hectic few days, and the party afterwards was raucous. Blaidd can really drink, I tell you. So can Alexander and Lionel. Tragoth was a lightweight, though."
"How?"
How had he managed when all others had failed?
How had this tarnished with no renown slain one of the most formidable Demigods, a sorcerer with few equals and a warrior with only one peer?
"Hm," the tarnished must have sensed her incredulity because he grinned at her. "I stabbed him with the pointy bit, of course. It's not rocket science."
Ranni did not know what 'rocket science' was, but she could tell when she was being teased. She allowed the doll's eyes to narrow at Mikael.
Far from being intimidated, he simply chuckled.
"Fine, fine," he waived off her glare with good humour. "I'll tell you the key points, though I would have thought Blaidd would have given you the details."
"My Shadow holds thine abilities with great admiration and described his battle with great detail," the Demigod admitted. "However, he was felled before the climax."
"That's right," Mikale said in realization. "Sorry, those four days were a blur of death, rebirth, violence, and slaughter. When I heard it called a festival of War, I thought Jerren was being pretentious, but man, was I wrong. He killed me eight times. Eight! Radahn was a beast."
A mere eight times.
Blaidd, her Shadow and a warrior millennia old had died two dozen times at least in those four days. Most tarnished went mad and gave up after one or two deaths.
Ranni was starting to realize just what kind of fool Melina's tarnished really was.
**
Sweat beaded my brow under my helmet.
I could hear the roar of my heart as it pounded in my ears. Adrenaline threw everything into a hazy focus. If one didn't count my deaths, I would have been awake for over ninety hours.
My body would revive after death, but fatigue still accumulated.
I was tired, hungry, thirsty, and blinking spots from my eyes.
I had never felt more alive.
I balanced precariously upon Torrent's back, the steady rise and fall of his galloping a familiar rhythm. Body Talent ensured I could ride like the best of the best, including standing up in the saddle.
The added height was necessary for surveying the battle.
The last four days of combat had been like nothing I had ever experienced.
This wasn't a duel.
It was a siege!
I watched Alexander shatter once more, leaving only me and Tragoth standing. I judged that the jar champion would pull himself together in six hours based on the last few days. Tragoth was a tank of a man, and he could hold under one or two of Radahn's swings with his heavy armour.
He was one of the few who could deal with the Demigod's full attention for more than a few minutes.
I had learned early that if I got hit, I would die.
Radahn was just too massive, strong, and quick for any blow to not be lethal. Injuries were uncommon, so I was either in total health or dead. Whether it was his great bow, gargantuan double blades, or simple mass, Starscourge Radahn was larger than life in every sense. I couldn't block or deflect any of his blows. It was either be hit or dodge.
Eight times had I died, each teaching me a valuable lesson on approaching this fight.
Everyone else had died more often than me, except for Patches, who left as soon as the battle began.
Torrent's mobility and our cooperation were the only reason I had kept my fatalities to a minimum.
I had to approach this battle not as a warrior but as a fellow general. On the first day, everyone had been dead simultaneously for a while. In just a few hours, all the wounds we inflicted on Radahn healed.
The last few days had been a haze of concentration and planning. I spent my companion's lives cheaply, balancing their death and reviving times to ensure that Radahn wasn't ever alone and that any combatants were paired in such a way they could survive until the next batch was ready.
I spent my own life just as cheaply.
I only engaged head-on occasionally when I knew the others could hold out till I reformed, inflicting what wounds I could. Blood flowed freely from them, but they were not slowing the Red Lion down by much.
"Hold!" I shouted as Tragoth flinched away from a double swing of the great swords. "Hold!"
I recognized the move.
Radahn was facing away from me, focusing on the more present threat. While I had harried him often, I died quickly due to my lighter armour.
I could almost see the general's animalistic mind work out the plan for the fight.
A complete offensive attack on Great Horned Tragoth would kill the tarnished quickly. Once he died, Radahn and Leonard could chase me down. It would be half an hour before Blaidd, Okina, and Therolina would be ready for battle again. He would have plenty of time to address his wounds.
Unfortunately for him, this also presented me with an opportunity.
I urged Torrent into a dash at Radahn's back.
I watched the Starscourge beardown on the other tarnished. Great Horned Tragoth might have flinched at the Red Lion's charge, but he recovered admirably. He was too slow to evade the coming attack, but he was still a skilled warrior.
Rather than futilely try and step away, the man stepped towards one of the greatswords. He took the blow on the horned armour that gave him his moniker, but it prevented the other impact from reaching him and minimized the damage.
He was pushed back, but he survived.
Radahn would need at least another blow to fell the tarnished. As the great general pressed for another attack, I approached on Torrent. With a kick of my heels, best boi knew precisely what to do.
He jumped into the air.
For a second, we rose in a smooth arch. Then Torrent jumped again, spiritual power at his feet, providing a platform in the air. He could only do it once, but this double jump had saved our lives several times.
As I had mentioned, Radahn was massive.
Over eight meters tall, his sheer size was an impediment to any fight against him. Most of the wounds we had inflicted were around his legs, not near anything vital.
At the apex of Torrent's rise, I jumped from his back.
After the first day, I had stowed my shield as it was useless in this fight, and I had slung my bow on my back a few moments ago. Moonveil was held in both my hands as I flew.
I plunged the blade down.
The katana impaled the Red Lion in between his clavicle and his neck, the tender area not covered by his helmet or armour being the only viable target. I did not have the strength nor the weapon to sever the Demigod's enormous neck.
Radahn roared in pain, the first sign of significant damage since the fight began. I had less than a second of opportunity before I was cast off and had no weapon.
That was fine.
The stab was not the real attack.
It just gave me leverage.
As the Starscourge screamed his fury, pain, and rage to the sky, I Breathed.
Over the last few days, I realized that neither my magic nor fire breath significantly damaged the man. More than that, atop Leonard, he was fast enough to avoid most of the spread of the blasts.
I needed a point-blank blow to inflict any severe wound on the man.
Scarlet Rot flowed down the giant general, the red haze entering his open mouth and the gaps in his armour as Ekzykes Decay consumed the Demigod.
For three seconds, the fight paused.
Radahn was silent as his flesh bubbled and writhed under the cursed blight. I could smell the vile scent even as I continued to fill him with foul Breath.
Then he moved once more, roaring in rage. Bucking, he launched me from his back. I managed to hold on to my blade but was still thrown into the air as Moonveil fell from his neck.
I readied myself to roll on the ground. There would be a moment of weakness that the Starscourge would use to end me.
If I was lucky, I could dodge it.
If not, Tragoth would need to hold out until the next batch reformed, or we would lose our accumulated progress.
I hit the ground on my back, my breath pushed from me by the impact. It was only a moment of passivity, but I knew that was enough to doom me. I rolled quickly, expecting to feel the crushing blow of the greatswords turning my body to mush.
It never came.
I quickly found my feet, rushing upwards to look at my greatest foe yet.
Radahn looked ready to strike me down, as I had expected, but he had stumbled.
Blood gushed from his mouth as the Scarlet Rot took its toll.
For a moment, just a moment, I thought the battle was over.
That Ekzykes Decay alone was enough to put the final nail in the coffin of this once great man.
Then he regained his footing and jumped.
He must have been using his magic to alter his weight because he jumped so high as to disappear into the sky. Leonard was gone as well.
Tragoth and I blinked at the sky stupidly, not understanding the sudden disappearance of the Starscorge.
"Did he... run away?" I couldn't help but ask my fellow tarnished, who could only shrug. I would have followed my question with a stupid comment to break the tension, but my companion nodded behind me.
I turned to see Jerren running towards us. The jester-looking knight had not participated in the battle so far, claiming that until he saw proof that we stood a chance, there was no point in adding another body to the pile.
The last clash must have been enough to confirm his belief in us as he rushed our way, blade in hand. He was over a football field away, so I couldn't hear him, but his frantic gestures toward the sky behind us was enough of a clue.
I whirled, blade at the ready.
For a moment, I did not know what the old knight was pointing at.
Then I noticed a star getting larger. And larger. And larger.
My long-trained instincts realized the danger before my conscious mind did.
"I call bullshit!" I screamed, even as my hands withdrew the Flask of Wonderous Physick.
I barely had time to drink the magical mixture before the world exploded.
The ground shook as fire bloomed all around me. The noise was deafening, and I was blown away by the force of the blast. Concussive force battered me with all the strength of a bomb.
My opaline shield shattered under the blow.
It did its job, but the explosion was so cataclysmic that I survived only through the health benefit of the mixture.
I flew, ass-over-teakettle, away from the force of the impact.
My head rang as I scrambled to my feet, dizzy and bleeding. Dust billowed out like a sandstorm, hiding everything from view.
Again, it was ingrained instinct that saved me.
I was so used to casting my follow-up spells after my shield shattered that it was a habit.
I used to only use Assassin's Approach, but after my brief time in Altus, I combined the incantation with Unseen Form into the pinnacle of stealth. It was prohibitively expensive for anyone but I, but the combo had been the key to my success in many of my more challenging fights.
I would have died if I had tried to remain hidden using only the dust cloud.
Every particle in the air fell to the ground in less time than it took the eye to blink.
With the dust cleared, I got a good look at the area for the first time and nearly gapped in shock.
The Wailing Dunes were just gone.
Where once had been rolling hills of sand, covered in blood, bodies, and blades, was now a glassed and cracked crater.
It stretched on farther than I could see.
Radahn, the mad bastard, had pulled a Madara.
Only HE was the meteor!
The Red Lion was less than twenty meters from me atop Leonard. I had no idea how the scrawny steed survived the impact, but he was still struggling ever onward under his master's colossal weight.
The Demigod would have killed me if I had been visible.
Tragoth had not survived. No amount of armour could take the full force of that meteoric crash.
Jerren approached quickly, and Radahn rode out to meet his former soldier.
I took a deep breath before charging at the general's back. I could use this opportunity to end this, as I had when facing Rennala.
Jerren proved his skill, holding out under the concentrated assault from the Red Lion for a minute as I stealthily made my way closer, careful to freeze in place when the Red Lion faced my way lest he notice a disturbance in the dust.
My plan was foiled as a wave of purple magic spread hundreds of meters from Radahn.
My spell fizzled as gravity lurched me forward.
One of the universe's fundamental forces was bent as reality warped under Radahn's will and magic.
For a moment, I could see Jerren's eyes widen under his cowl as he tripped under the spell. He knew he would die for the stumble, but I saw him give a feral grin as his eyes met mine.
Like Radahn, he had thought I died in the blast.
Radahn's great sword bisected the old man, the bloody carcass flying away as the general roared triumphantly.
My great arrow pierced the back of his neck, blood fountaining in front of him.
Despite what should have been a mortal wound, the Demigod reacted quickly. Though he coughed blood, he still whirled Leonard around to face me. The bolt was poking out of where his adam's apple should be.
He gurgled a roar, purple magic gathering around his blades. Lightning gathered around him, four enormous boulders floating up.
I was already running at him when the first flew at me.
No invincibility frames existed in real life, so I had to dodge them completely. Even a glancing blow from one of those mini-meteors would pulverize me. But when I tried to move to the side, the stone bent in the air to follow my path. They weren't super maneuverable, but I would die unless I did something drastic.
I had spent months studying sorceries in Sellia. The magic in the Lands Between differed from that of Dark Souls, so I had started from ground zero in magic. Between Sellia, my year in Raya Lucaria's library, and Sellen's tutelage, my Magical Talent could flourish.
So I jumped.
I couldn't reach the same height that the general had achieved, but I had studied the notes of the young Demigod and the memoires of the Alabaster Lord that taught the young Radahn.
I landed on the first boulder, taking a few steps forward to propel myself high enough to launch over the second.
Purple magic gathered along Moonveil as I cut through the third boulder in mid-air.
Following closely behind the third, the fourth boulder would have killed me had I been alone.
But I wasn't alone.
Torrent formed under me as we flew through the sky. The spectral steed created another platform at his hooves, leaping over the last stone and presenting a clear path to the Demigod.
The great swords bore down on us, but in a move we had practiced a thousand times, I jumped from Torrent's back as the steed astralized one last time.
With nothing left to block me, Moonveil plunged downward.
My blade found purchase in the eye of the giant.
As I rode the great general to the ground, I roared in a bloodthirsty frenzy.
Infected with Scarlet Rot, bathed in Ekzykes Decay, with his neck pierced by an arrow the size of a log and a blade protruding from his eye, Starscourge Radahn finally died.
Leonard, unsupported by the Red Lion's magic, passed on soon after.
Atop the body of the Red Lion, I watched the stars fall.
**
"T'is... quite the tale," Ranni said in the silence that followed Mikael's recounting. "Had Blaidd not substantiated the telling, I would have taken thee for a braggart."
She wasn't particularly heartbroken about Radahn's death. None of the siblings or half-siblings were close, except for the twins Malenia and Miquella. Rykard, her other brother, was only more intimate with her because they were both joined in rebellion against the Golden Order and the Erdtree.
The simple fact was they were all born decades or even centuries apart. They rarely interacted before the Night of Black Knives, and everything after that was par for the course.
"What can I say," the tarnished pretended to buff his nails on his chest and look them over. He was wearing gauntlets. "I'm awesome like that. To be honest, I am a bit bummed. I think I could have taken him down alone if I had a month or two, but the festival was fun."
"And how did thou find the blade?" Ranni didn't react to the man's absurd claim. She knew the gist of what followed but wanted to hear if he had anything to add.
"One of the stars blasted a hole in Limgrave when it crashed," Mikael shrugged. "I followed it down and found Nokron under it. Besides a few differences, it was very similar to Siofra. Took a few years of exploration, but I found the blade after killing a few Bosses."
As ever, the tarnished words were a mix of casual dismissal, absurd comments, and extravagant claims.
Ranni took a deep breath, though her doll did not move.
The tale was irrelevant, after all. Now that she had the blade, the next step was clear.
A wellspring of sadness sprung in her breast, but she did not waver.
She knew it would be a lonely end when she embarked on this path.
It was time to part ways with everyone.
"My thanks for the blade and the tale," Ranni said, stowing the treasure in a magical subspace. "Finally, all the pieces are in place. Soon must I begin my journey. Upon the dark path only I may tread. As promised, I shall entrust thee with this."
From that same subspace, the Demigod removed the Inverted Statue.
"Your words are not ominous at all," Mikael muttered as he picked up the statue. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"Place it upon the altar in the Study Hall. The path to the divine tower and my discarded flesh shall be clear from there," she explained. Taking one last look at the tarnished who had changed the world and her fate, Ranni couldn't help but add, "I am certain now, fate steered us to our reunion. I must thank Torrent, too, for his part."
"I don't believe in fate," Mikael casually tossed the statue end over end in his hand. "Fate is an excuse for those too cowardly and ignorant to chase their dreams and freedom."
Ranni considered staying and talking more with this strange tarnished for a moment. She wanted to pick his mind, to understand what sort of madness infected the mind of the man who now held a goodly portion of the Elden Ring.
But the moment passed.
Ranni had too much to do and little time to do it. As it was, she had wasted time hearing about the battle.
"You may leave now," she kept her voice warm even as she dismissed him. "It was brief, but thou gavest me fine service."
"Take care of yourself, Doll. I'm sure we will see each other again." Mikael walked from the room, performing the same odd wrist waive as the last time he had last left her.
Ranni did not say another word, certain the two would never meet again.