When we two parted

In silence and tears,

Half broken-hearted

To sever for years,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold,

Colder thy kiss;

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this.

********

I would rather trust you than simply continue to spoil from within.

I loved fire.

I hated fire.

The fallen leaves, burning to ash on the wind, fluttered and danced as little flames.

They were all that remained.

Some of my earliest memories are of flame.

Some of my happiest memories are sitting before a hearth, book in hand. The stories providing a sense of wonder and escapism to my mind. Or roasting marsh mellows with friends and family.

The scent of woodsmoke wafting through the air was as welcoming to me as fresh-cut grass or a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter day.

Ask any Dark Souls player what they think of the Bonfire, even if they know the lore, and they will tell you that the flames represent peace. Safety. A moment to catch your breath before you are thrown out into the cold, indifferent world again.

The Bonfire of the Souls games is such a universally recognizable symbol that even people who have never played it can look at an image and know it right away.

But fire burns more than it comforts.

My earliest nightmares were of fire. Of flames consuming my home, my family, and myself. Of choking smoke, hazy eyes, and screams in the night.

The comforting glow of the Bonfire deceived the sense, for the fire was not kind to those it touched.

I had burned in the fires of the gods twice.

Staring at the orange and red sky, the Erdtree crackling in the fires of its own Ragnarok, I wished I had burned thrice.

I was numb.

Not angry, not sad, not in disbelief, not anything really.

Just numb.

When you experience something like this, it feels like you are floating.

Like everything is separated by a filter, hazy and unfocused. Like nothing is real. Like you are dreaming and are just waiting to wake up. I knew enough about medicine to know I was in shock.

In a way, I was fortunate.

I had lived for centuries in worlds created by the mind of Hidetake Miyazaki. A series famous for its slogan, Prepare to Die.

That same slogan had been, appropriately, changed by the fandom.

Prepare to Cry.

That I only felt like this now was nothing short of a miracle.

There were no happy ends in Demon Souls, Dark Souls, Bloodborne, or Sekiro.

Anyone the player interacted with was doomed. The kindest thing someone could do in those worlds was to avoid the NPCs without trying to help them.

Only then would they have a chance at happiness.

Intellectually, I knew I had done a lot. Secured happy ends for a lot of people I liked. Rationally, I knew I should be proud of the happiness I had secured for others.

Feelings never care for logic.

Though Fromsoft had a way of breaking its players' hearts, I had thought they still had a few lines they never crossed.

They never separated gameplay from their storytelling. This meant that if you only had one way to level up, they shouldn't take it away for cheap drama.

I hear we have to set the tree alight? Obviously, the player needs to burn to accomplish it, just like in Dark Souls. There is more than one puzzle in those games involving lighting fires. Though there had been mentions of sacrificing a maiden, I hadn't given Shabiri much time to talk before killing him for possessing Yura.

More than that, I hadn't believed him.

What were they going to do? Take away the players' ability to level up before the end of the game?

I had needed Melina to level up in the first place; it made no sense to take her away.

I could still channel runes, even after Melina... left.

I had thought it was due to my Talents, a workaround not available to players.

I should have realized that nothing was safe.

I never played Elden Ring.

I had avoided any information from the network test. I knew nothing about the world but the bare basics shown in the trailers.

For all I knew, this was but one path.

If I had joined other factions, would Melina still be alive?

Could I have saved her if I had explored, researched, and spent more time in Reya Lucaria or Leyndell?

If I had trusted her more and given her more information, would she still be with me?

I would rather trust you than simply continue to spoil from within.

I offered her my bite, but I had not explained everything.

I told her my 'curse' was transferable if I wished it. Those people got many benefits in exchange for being trapped on the Island until I could free them. It would mean only as much as they wished it to mean.

Though they were 'bound' to me, it didn't mean they had to do what I said or go where I went.

Unlike other waifu-catalogue-bound people, there was no requirement for romance. Theoretically, I could offer the benefits of the catalogue to anyone; I didn't even have to be attracted to them.

Even Ranni, despite our 'marriage,' I was only going to make the offer to her because I sympathized with her plight, and I felt she would enjoy the company of the women of the Island.

For all I knew, the Demigod would reject the offer after she had spent so long working towards her goal.

I still planned on leaving them all, only taking Melina with me. They could go where they wished from there.

My Maiden would have let me wade into that cauldron if she had known I had burned in the fires of the First Flame.

She would have trusted me to return to her, I was sure.

If only I had trusted her in that same manner.

We were waiting for me to become Elden Lord before I bound her, as she would disappear like Priscila had. When she had first told me she loved me, I had been terrified she would disappear. But I now knew the only method of binding that worked was my bite.

Like everything else regarding that accursed catalogue, nothing worked as it should.

Not that I told her that.

I didn't tell her about the possibility that she could control me once bound.

I hadn't explained the true extent of my 'curse.'

Melina knew nothing of the other worlds, my 'super-immortality' or the true extent of my madness.

There was a myriad of reasons, some petty and others valid, but it all came down to one thing.

I hadn't trusted her.

I hadn't trusted her to not use her power over me once she knew about it. I believed our relationship would change once she knew she could shape me with only her words.

In my ideal world, I would have beaten the game and claimed all the shards of the Elden Ring. I would bind Melina and Ranni, enact my plan, and appear on the Island.

From there, I would gain control of my Dragon Body, grab my stuff and Melina, and leave.

No temptation to stay, no risk of death by personality wipe or being a puppet in my body.

It was a simple plan.

But this wasn't my ideal world.

Melina was dead because I hadn't trusted her.

Because I had been scared.

I would rather trust you than simply continue to spoil from within.

I have always wondered why Millicent's words bothered me so much since I first heard them. They were said in such an off-handed manner.

They shouldn't have stuck with me for so long.

I thought it was because I feared rotting from within, from losing myself in my search for Freedom.

That wasn't the reason.

A part of me had realized I had rotted away long ago.

Maybe since I first discovered their power over me?

When Diana inadvertently ordered me to burn in those soul-searing flames for thousands of years?

When I found out they were going free Emma and she hadn't told me?

Certainly, since I decided to cast a command seal at every summoning, fear has driven me to control them rather than risk a slip of the tongue.

I had gone so far as to give the order in French lest Melina or Ranni suspect something. They thought my command seals were my 'spell' to summon my companions.

If that didn't speak of my paranoia, I didn't know what did.

Even if I had forgotten most of my interactions with the women of the Island over the centuries, even if I couldn't claim to love them without the influence of foreign feelings, I knew them enough by now to know they didn't harbour malicious intent.

Even if I knew that, even now that my actions had driven my lover to death, I didn't know if I could trust them or anyone else who could unmake me with an order.

Such was the nature of fear.

Cold and overpowering in its complete control.

It was too late anyway.

The kindling had been burnt to ash, and there was no getting it back.

What was the point of trust when those you wanted to let into your heart were already gone?

I stood up.

My eyes were dry.

I never liked crying.

I had things to do.

"Mikael," a soft voice called my name.

Ranni was sitting where I had just been lying. Torrent was beside her.

How long had they been there?

No matter.

I had things to do.

"You stole the Rune of Death."

It wasn't a question. Ranni had admitted as much decades ago when we met in her tower.

"I did," she answered, standing up and looking into my eyes. She barely came up to my chest, but her piercing blue eye stared through me.

I looked away.

I didn't want sympathy.

Not when I could have stopped this from happening in the first place.

"Then you know where I can find it."

Torrent rose as well, and I started to redo my armour.

"T'is held by Maliketh the Black Blade. He hides in Crumbling Faram Azula."

I fumbled at the clasp of my chest piece. I hadn't expected Ranni to give the information so freely. I had hoped to have to trade something for it. Let her know she owed me for that Baleful Shadow.

I briefly wondered about her angle before I realized I didn't care.

If she was being helpful, that was all that mattered. The motivation was irrelevant.

I didn't care about anything right now.

"Good, you'll take me there." I stared down at Melina's cloak. It was all I had left of her. Besides memories. I carefully folded it and put it away. "Once I control Destined Death, I'm going after the Elden Ring."

"Which of my siblings in thy target?"

"All of them," I finally met her eye. Ranni should leave now if she couldn't get behind me killing her family. If she did, I would find my own way. "Rykard, Malenia, Miquella, and Mogh. I'm going to find them and kill them all. I'm not going near the Erdtree until they are dead, and I'm holding their shards in my hand. Then I'll kill Radagon and anyone else that gets in my way. Definity Marika. Her part in this will not go unpunished."

"Very well, my consort." Far from being put off by my words, Ranni just nodded her head. "I shall render what aid I can upon thy journey. Rykard should be our first target, lest his Manor exploit the Capitol's state. The others may be found at thy leisure."

I grunted in acknowledgment as I mounted Torrent.

Ranni sat behind me.

Phantom feelings of Melina's arms embracing me as we rode through the world.

I shuddered, and the feelings were gone.

I needed to kill something.

Right now, nothing sounded better than fighting, killing, and dying.

I wasn't masochistic in the least, always leaning more toward the sadistic side, but right now, physical pain sounded much better than what I was feeling now.

I knew that taking out my pain on others was wrong.

After I had the Rune of Death, I could set out to Leyndell and end it all. The women on the Island had the ritual all set up already.

They were just waiting on my say-so.

What I was going to unleash on the Lands Between was senseless, pointless violence.

I never pretended to be a good man, but what I would do in the coming years would be morally and ethically wrong on every level.

I just didn't care.

********

"A moment, my consort," Ranni's voice stopped me in my tracks.

I didn't ask what for.

She had been incredibly helpful since Melina... since she left. Ranni couldn't use too much magic in her miniature form, but if needed, she could shift to her larger doll. I had reached Faram Azula because she had cast a teleportation spell of some sort.

Without her, I would have spent decades searching for access to the ruins of the flying city.

Ranni's spectral form flowed from the pouch at my side in a haze of blue magic reminiscent of twinkling stars. She wasn't looking at me, instead staring at the storm at the center of the crumbling fortress.

At any other time, Faram Azula would have captured my heart instantly. I could have watched the powerful storm for hours, captivated by its size and majesty.

I looked at it once before moving on.

I just wanted to find Maliketh and every dragon here and kill them all.

Most did not actually increase my power, already saturated with draconic energy as I was. Still, a rare few gave me good enough benefits that hunting the rest was worth the effort. Rather than partaking in Communion, when I consumed their hearts, I got flashes of their memories and, from there, could recreate their unique spells.

"A great spell has been woven here," Ranni's voice was steady as always. For a moment, I was tempted to tease her about it. I always liked that I could prod her until she broke her facade. But it was just an idle thought. I didn't feel like talking. So I just grunted at her words. "I would ask thee to hold still for a while. I believe I have found an ingress to a hidden abode. Perhaps Maliketh has moved his residence since I stole Death."

She paused for a moment, looking at me.

"What?"

"Should I do this, I shall need to rest. Neither this working nor that of bringing thee here were of little effort. Even my larger forms may only channel so much power."

"Do it," I said as I sat down and watched her work.

Even with my Magical Talent and spell experience, I could barely tell what Ranni was doing. While it was powerful, more than that, it was subtle. I recognized a temporal and spatial aspect and the similarities to the spell Ranni had used to teleport me to Faram Azula years ago.

With my experience with Fromsoft games, it wasn't hard to guess what was coming.

My assumption was correct when time flowed backwards, like pressing rewind on a VHS.

The storm shrunk as debris flew back into place. Pillars rebuilt themselves, and the floor evened out. Fine, artistic detail, long worn by the wind and rain, became clear.

In less than a minute, I had gone from sitting at the edge of a skyborne wreck, legs dangling off the edge, to standing in a colossal arena.

"'T'is done." I could hear the weariness in Ranni's voice. If she was so diminished while body-less, I wondered how strong she had been when she had her Emperyan flesh. "T'was not the home of the Black Blade. This is Dragonlord Placidusax. Elden Lord in the age before the Erdtree. I believed he was slain when his god fled. Though he has suffered wounds, he lives still."

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I watched the absolutely massive being unfurl his wings as he sensed the intrusion into his home. I could see the inspiration from DnD's Tiamat, though only two of the five heads remained.

Judging by the power gathering in their maws, it was the two that controlled fire and lightning.

"I am sorry, my consort," Ranni said, flowing back into her miniature housing at my waist. I didn't know why she sounded so sad. "My magic has drained me, and I must rest a while. Thee will be alone in this fight."

Torrent, we had discovered, on top of being claustrophobic, was also acrophobic.

Without Best Boi, this would be a challenge.

Just me and an ancient dragon lord.

Alone.

Again.

Perfect.

"Get some rest, Doll." I absentmindedly patted the tiny head. It was a habit from years of our time together. She had never once complained about it, and it had become a habit. "By the time you wake up, I should be done with Faram Azula. Maybe Gelmir as well."

"My consort," I could hear the fatigue in her voice and the concern. I kept an eye on the Legend before me as it roared in a challenge at me. "Perhaps thee should... nay, I shall not say it. I shall simply urge thee to remember I am here. Thou are not alone. Thou shall never be alone again."

Then it was just me, my greatsword, and a dragon the size of a skyscraper.

********

I took a deep breath, golden lightning and fire gathering in my maw. The ice decorating the cavern covered the rancid stench that had been present when I first entered.

When I first purchased Inexaustable Talent, I had dreamed of casting spells that reshaped the world. I firmly believed there was a small piece of everyone that longed for the wonders of magic. I hoped to conjure storms, meteors, and other astonishing phenomena.

Throughout my journey, I discovered two limitations that stopped my dreams in their tracks.

The first was the limit of the power my vessel could draw on.

Whenever I started a new game, I was reset to level one, and even if I never ran out of magic, there was a limit to how much I could channel at any point. In game terms, my magic bar never lowered, but I couldn't cast more powerful spells if it wasn't large enough.

Only as I approached the last few boss fights could I go all out. But then I would run into the second problem.

Magic in the Souls games, and Elden Ring, isn't fast enough to cast.

It held incredibly destructive power, and more often than not, I could jerry-rig something, but I was rarely able to use it to its full potential. Enemies wouldn't just sit there and let you cast at them.

Radahn was a great example.

I had to risk my life to literally be on top of him to get the full effect of Ekzykes Decay.

So I relished the few opportunities I had to go all out.

Even better when my enemy was a Demigod holding a shard of the Elden Ring.

I immediately sensed the powerful weapon nearby when I entered the massive cavern that housed the God-Devouring Serpent. The wind magic coated its blade and told me this fight was supposed to be another take on the Stormruler fight like Yorm or the original in Demons' Souls.

I didn't need the spear.

Seeing as the massive snake was at home in a volcano, I hazarded a guess that it was resistant to fire and wasn't used to ice.

Borealis's Mist flowed from my mouth in an unending torrent, hiding me from view.

The lava cooled and solidified. Bodies froze, then shattered in shows of frozen blood. Ice formed on the floor, walls and ceilings. Icicles fell like rain as all the liquid in the room was flash-frozen.

The serpent stirred, trying to find me in the fog, but its massive size gave away its location, and I avoided it with ease even as the temperature continued to lower.

I didn't know if a blasphemous snake god was cold-blooded, but it barely took half an hour for its writhing to slow, then stop.

I kept the power flowing from my mouth.

No way would things be so simple in a Fromsoft boss fight for a shard of the Elden Ring.

I was unsurprised to see an arm burst from the serpent's body, the frozen blood flying in icicles as its scales shattered.

What was with Elden Ring and all the arms and hands?

Did Miyazaki discover the wonders of handjobs since Sekiro?

I watched the arm reach into the limp maw of the God-Devouring Serpent and withdraw a massive greatsword covered in pulsing and writhing tendrils.

Ok, I can give props to the spectacle.

It didn't change what I was doing.

The temperature continued dropping, well below zero and reaching the point where even I felt it.

And I was casting spells to heat myself up.

My 'fight' with Rykard was anti-climatic.

He tried everything the snake had, rampaging around the cavern in an attempt to find me. He swung his blade to and fro, screaming about how I would 'join his family' and we would 'devour the gods togethaaa!'

He tried to use his magic to fling fire and lava around, but by then, the temperature was so low and my breath so powerful that lava turned to stone in his hands, and flames extinguished into steam in seconds.

With three shards of the Elden Ring, my Inexaustable Talent, and a battlefield I had set up?

The result was inevitable.

I enjoyed a blood-pumping fight more than most. Knowing that certain death was a miss-step away brought me to life like few things could.

I could fondly look back on my time against the Ornstein and Smough, Alonne, Nameless King, Gael, the Soul of Cinder, and Radahn as some of the best moments of my life.

But the sadistic joy I found in slow freezing a Demigod as he helplessly tried to save himself, unable to put up even a token resistance, was close to that adrenaline rush.

In the end, I gathered the shard of the Elden Ring from the popsicle of Rykard, Lord of Blasphemy.

I shattered his body into billions of pieces with Placidusax's Ruin. The 'fight' took an hour.

I spent six in that cavern.

Over and over, I breathed a golden rush of lightning and fire upon the carcass until all that remained was an ash-filled crater.

The serpent god would not be coming back from that.

I didn't leave loose ends.

********

The, by now, familiar smell of the Scarlet Rot filled my nose.

It was joined by the iron tang of blood.

I looked at the source of both.

"Thank you for lending your hand," Millicent stared up at me with vacant eyes. She was as pale as the first time we met. Again I was struck by the beautiful deep scarlet of her hair. I always had a thing for redheads. It was a testament to the fact that I hadn't planned any romance with the women on the Island that none of my choices were redheads. "Without your help, I could not have defeated that quartet."

"'s no problem," I said softly. I was concentrating my inexhaustible power on trying to heal her wounds. She hadn't escaped the fight with her 'sisters' without taking a blade through the chest near her heart. It was taking all I could to keep her alive. The wounds were not closing, no matter how much of the miracle flowed through me and into her. "Don't talk. You're making my job harder."

"I feel as if I've been in your debt from beginning to end." What was with these women and not listening to me? "Thank you. With your help, I was able to live as my own person, if only in passing."

"I do this of my own volition. Regardless of my mother's designs. I have set my heart upon the world I would have."

"That's quitter talk," I tried to smile at her. Even I knew it looked more like a grimace. "You've made it this far. Just a little more, and I can heal you."

"This is where things end." Goddamnit woman! Shut up, and let me fix you! I wasn't going to lose anyone else. "I pause to even tell you, but... I took out the needle myself."

I froze, power still seeping out of me.

"Why?"

My voice sounded pathetic even to my ears.

"Whoever started this and provided you with the needle, tell them; that if I am to flower into something other than myself, I would rather rot into nothingness as I am."

Though she couldn't see me, too Rot-infested, I could see the determination in her eyes.

Stupid hard-headed woman.

I would rather trust you than simply continue to spoil from within.

"There is... another option." My throat was suddenly parched. My heart pounded in my chest, and my hands shook. Fear gripped me. At this moment, I wasn't sure what scared me more. Letting someone else I cared about die when I could save them? Or putting another shackle around my neck? "I have a way to heal you. Completely I mean. Scarlet Rot and all. You would get your lost limb back, be back to perfect form and everything."

"And what would be the cost," she grimaced the question.

She knew more than most that there was no such thing as a free lunch.

"For you? You would be trapped on an Island with a few others until I could free you. I am already working on it, so it shouldn't be too long."

"And what would it cost you?"

I should have said it wouldn't cost me anything. It would hardly be a lie. I was already planning on leaving everyone behind. As I told Ranni, what was the difference between twelve and thirteen?

It may be my nature as a Dragon of Freedom. Perhaps I was just scared that I would be unable to escape the Island when the ritual was completed.

Maybe I was too much of a coward.

The words would not leave my lips.

"You must leave me," taking my silence for what it was, Millicent urged me. "Please, let me pass alone. The Scarlet Rot writhes now, worse than ever. Soon, I won't be more than a mound of flesh. Curse-laden. Untouchable. I wouldn't want such a thing to bring you harm."

Why was I such a coward?

I had gone against gods with barely a sweat, despite all the pain they could (and did) inflict on me.

I had sat upon the Throne of Want despite knowing what I was dooming myself to.

I have lied, murdered, and stolen my way to the top.

Why could I not tell one white lie to a dying woman I liked to save her life?

I lied all the goddamn time! Ninety-nine percent of everything that came out of my mouth was bullshit!

Why could I not speak one last lie?

I knew why.

Pain was fleeting. Morality was subjective.

Anyone I bound would be with me to the end of time.

A permanent risk.

I had chosen to be a Dragon of Life because I feared the permanence of death.

And I could think of no fate worse than personality death, my body paraded around for eternity while I was either gone from it or, worse, still trapped in it.

As soon as I discovered, through Emma, the power the women held over me, I thought of a use for it. A simple one that would solve all my problems. I had still been trapped in my cell then.

The mind is a wonderfully terrible thing. I wasn't the most brilliant person out there, but I was smart. Cunning. Tricky.

Using a command seal on any of the women, I could give one order to solve all my problems.

'Order me to go to sleep. Then Order my body to do everything to get free.'

Through that convoluted process, I would turn myself into a machine.

No pain or suffering.

I could wander through millions of games and worlds and only wake up once I was free.

I had thought about asking Robin to give me that order when she appeared in my cell.

The words never left my lips, as they couldn't now.

Desperate to find an alternative, I thought of stuffing myself, one piece at a time, through the bars. It was excruciating, and had I not been so desperate, I would have given up after the first day. It took four to get all but one limb out of the cell. Separating my head from my neck using only a rusty cell door took a day.

I used my escape as justification for why that final solution, that terrible yet easy idea was not necessary.

I hadn't regretted that choice even once in all these centuries.

Until I awoke atop the Forge of the Giants.

"I won't leave you," I told Millicent as I stopped trying to heal her.

Power of a different sort, one far more final and absolute, gathered in my hand in the shape of a red dagger.

"Thank you."

She must have felt Death in my hands because she did not ask me to leave again. Instead, she struggled to reach for something around her neck, and I paused.

Eventually, she found what she sought and held it out to me.

It was a talisman depicting a raised prosthetic blade.

"Take it," she urged. "It is all I can provide you in recompense for all you have done and will do. Though I fear I have one last request of you, knowing you hold the Rune of Death."

"Name it," I said as I threaded the talisman upon the chain on my neck.

Too many, and their magic would interfere with each other. They were like rings in Dark Souls. If I was playing a game, I would choose them based on min-maxing their benefit. But this wasn't a game. So I only kept those of sentimental value.

It joined the Shard of Alexander, the Carian Filigreed Crest, the Bull-goat's talisman.

"I ask you to slay Malenia. Slay her and banish the Rot from this world."

"I was already planning on it."

"I know," Millicent drew herself up, staring at my kneeling form at eye level. "I know your means and skills. Should you use all in your arsenal, not even the Blade of Miquella could hope to stand before you. My final request is thus; Kill her in honourable combat. Even should she forget her pride and dignity and give in to the Scarlet Rot, as she did facing Radahn, I ask you never do so to equal her. I ask of you, my Lord, an impossible task. Are you able to defeat the undefeated with skill alone?"

"I am. And I will."

"Then I ask you to kill me and cut the Rot from this land."

I plunged Destined Death into her heart, cursing my cowardice and hypocrisy.

Her smile, the same red as her hair, was radiant.

********

I reached the base of the Haligtree in a daze.

My body was on autopilot, taking one step in front of the other.

Any enemies that tried to kill me were cut down where they stood. I was so powerful by this point that I hadn't died since facing Placidusax, an ancient Elden Lord. The pests, knights, and monstrosities that called the tree home were but wheat before my blade.

They never rose again.

By the time I reached Malenia, perhaps only a handful of beings still survived in the tree's branches.

I was sad I wouldn't get a clean sweep, but I couldn't put forth the energy to ensure my genocide was complete.

I found her sitting in a chair, hand laid out on the furrows of the tree. It looked like a womb to my eyes. Leaves fell around us, and the wind swayed the white flowers that dotted the clearing.

It was silent but for the sound of the wind and the leaves. All the trumpeters, pests, soldiers, and others who would have made noise in the distance were long dead.

"I dreamt for so long."

She looked like Millicent, I realized.

Malenia was taller, and the Rot had claimed more of her. Out of her limbs, only one arm was intact. The infestation had also claimed her head, robbing her of her eyesight.

"My flesh was dull gold... and my blood, rotted. Corpse after corpse, left in my wake..." She stood from her seat, eight and a half feet tall and slowly attached the prosthetic arm that had lain at her feet. Her blade was at least nine feet long. I made no move to take advantage of her unhurried state. "As I awaited... his return."

Finally, that scarlet hair that reminded me of love, passion, blood, and Rot was covered by a winged helm.

"...Heed my words. I am Malenia. Blade of Miquella. And I have never known defeat."

As if her slow movements were a lie, Malenia was on me in a flash. I took the first blow on my shield, ready to attack in the rebound's opening.

Her metallic foot crashed into my side.

I flew, rolling on the ground in a heap of bruises, broken bones, and pain.

Malenia impaled me before I had the chance to stand.

That was my first death at the hand of the Demigod.

I barely lasted five seconds.

It wouldn't be my last.

********

Fighting Malenia was... I could barely put it into words.

Radahn was a mountain that moved with the power and suddenness of a rock slide.

He was a force of solid nature.

You either got out of the way, or you got crushed. As befitting his monicker, he would not fall even if the heavens themselves collapsed.

Malenia was a river.

She flowed from one move to the next, no matter what stood between her. She could be a trickling stream or a flash flood. If anything stood in the way of the water, it was either circumvented or battered by the tide until it collapsed.

For someone as infatuated with the sea and water as I was, watching her fight was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.

A month was spent in a constant process of death and rebirth.

As a tarnished, so long as my will remained intact and I wasn't slain by Destined Death, I would continue to reform with all my power. I do not know how many times I died, losing count after the second dozen, but I knew I could end this at any point I wished.

I could snipe her from the branches with my great bow.

I could burn the Haligtree in an unending tide of fire and lighting.

I could summon an army of spirits and lay waste to her.

A hundred and one ideas on how to kill the 'undefeated' flowed through my mind, and I refused to use any of them.

Initially, it had been my promise to Millicent that had stayed my hand. She would never know I broke my word, but I would know.

I did not want to live with that for the rest of eternity.

I continued to fall under the blows of her blade, arms, and legs.

I discarded my shield after the third day.

I dropped the Dark Moon Greatsword and my bow at the site of Grace on the fifth.

The Raging Wolf armour was left there on the seventh, and I faced Malenia in nothing but the plain clothes of champions of the badlands.

As the weeks passed, the white flowers of the field had long turned red with my blood.

And one day, as I stood from my most recent death at the hands of the waterfowl dance, I realized something.

I wasn't numb anymore.

"My consort," Ranni spoke up one day. I didn't know when she had awoken. "Why must you fight my half-sister in such a manner? I am sure the valkyrie would rather a lessening of thy suffering, regardless of thy promise."

I didn't answer, just made my way back into the arena.

What had been a burden of a promise had turned into a goal I fought towards. A reminder of something I had left behind so long ago in my desperation for Freedom.

There is a feeling all Soulsborne players face at least once in their lives.

There were different names for it, and everybody faced it at different times, to different enemies, but I recognized this feeling.

The Wall.

Whether it was against Flamelurker, the Asylum Demon, Ornstein and Smough, Black Dragon Kalameet, the Nameless King, Father Gascoigne, the Orphan of Kos, Genichiro Ashina, or any number of other challenging bosses in these games.

All players will eventually meet an enemy who completely stonewalls their progress.

Because of unique moves, environment, or build incompatibility, it didn't matter.

What mattered was what people did when faced with that impassible Wall.

Those who gave up, threw in the towel, gave in to their despair, and stopped playing did not really understand the games.

They went hollow.

While I never begrudged anyone their choice, as I understood the genre wasn't for everyone, I grieved for them.

I grieved for the joy they missed.

I grieved for the affirmation that came from climbing that Wall that they would never experience.

I rejoiced for all those who threw themselves against those bloody bricks, whose will and determination met the challenge and laid it low.

Some played Souls games for the lore, some for the PVP or bragging rights.

No matter their reason, I called them my comrades.

For we had all faced and overcome our Wall.

The last time I faced a Wall was against the Orphan of Kos in Bloodborne. Even in DS1, after leaving the cell, if I wasn't skilled enough to confront someone, then I found a workaround.

I shot them from far away.

I buried their homes in fire and rubble.

I ambushed and assassinated when possible.

Only later, when I became more skilled, did I let go of those desperate ploys at victory. I learned to enjoy combat for the contest of skill it was.

But I always remembered those tactics. They were who I was at my core. Not a hero, a champion, or a knight.

I was a survivor.

They were always a fallback, a way to ensure nobody really stood between me and my freedom.

If the Festival of War failed, I had plans to release a horde of Rot-infested animals upon the Wailing Dunes and assassinate Radahn after he exhausted himself for months. It would take killing all of his soldiers, Jerren included, but it was an option I had considered.

"I would thank Millicent if I could," I told Ranni after I reformed.

Bound by her promise, Malenia had become my Wall.

If I had approached her without that pact, in the state of mind I had fallen into after Melina's death, I would have desecrated this duel in the most heinous ways.

I would have missed out on the one feeling all Souls players wish they could feel again.

After all, hit a Wall enough, and it will come down.

Those who tore down the Berlin Wall did not realize the significance of their actions until they were carving the stone to pieces and climbing atop its ruins.

So too, did I not realize the moment until my blade pierced Malenia's chest.

If you were to ask what opening led to me impaling the Demigod, I could not tell you.

We had clashed many times, traded so many blows and bled the other enough that I could not tell what blood was mine and what was hers. It all flowed into each other.

Even if you threatened me with death, I could not tell you if she had made a mistake or stumbled or if I had simply gotten the better of her.

I was sure I would be unable to answer a single question about what led to that stab for the rest of my life.

I was just as confident I would remember the next few minutes for the rest of eternity.

I withdrew Moonveil and backed away.

I knew what was coming.

I had heard from Millicent the events of the past.

I had waded through the swamps and mire of what had once been the prosperous land of Caelid.

I wasn't surprised when a red flower started to grow from the blood of the Demigod.

I was surprised when I started to sing.

"The colours of his morning,

The darkness of his night,

Little graves that gave no warning,

A sun that brought no light."

For the first time since Melina's death, music flowed from me.

I didn't know why this song came to me, despite my love for the Wheel of Time, but I went with it.

The flower Bloomed.

"The scarlet bloom flowers once more." Malenia took to the air on Rot-infested wings like a caterpillar emerging from its cocoon. Butterflies filled the area. "You will witness true horror. Now, rot!"

Scarlet Rot filled the air, my flesh bubbling and twisting in a familiar sensation of pain and poison.

My voice remained steady.

"He saw his whole world breaking,

That tortured soul I met,

In the prison of his making,

The man who can't forget."

I met her in the air.

Spiritual power gathered at my feet, as Torrent had taught me.

Gravity bent to my will, as I had learned from Radahn.

I never found the spell the Crucible Knights used to fly, but I achieved my dream in my own way.

Locked in a dance of death in the air with Malenia, I flew.

And I continued to sing.

"I can still hear the way that he cried,

for the ones he was missing,

I can still hear the way that he cried,

for the ones he had lost."

Malenia assumed a familiar stance after a one-footed leap, arm and blade held over her left shoulder in preparation.

It was reminiscent of a waterfowl ready to strike.

I had died to this move an uncountable number of times.

A series of moves that flowed from one to the other. Over forty swings in five seconds.

That was accounting for the time she took to reposition.

Each swing had the strength of a tank shell. She threw out dozens per second and was stronger than tens of thousands of men.

I had previously compared Malenia to a river, and the Waterfowl Dance was the flood.

I lept, arms and legs raised in a mirror of the same stance.

My heart was calm.

My mind was clear.

"He saw them in the rivers,

He felt them in the rain.

In dreams he heard them whisper,

The truth that is his pain."

We danced.

As two rivers flowed down a mountain, we crashed, splashed and combined into one greater torrent.

We flowed over, around, and through each other in a battle so deadly, so intimate that I knew her as well as I knew myself at that moment.

I felt her longing for her brother.

Her absolute trust in him.

Her lonely vigil, waiting for his rebirth.

In the shadow of her wings, I saw the figure of two women.

One with vivid red hair.

One who smiled at me with love.

Our dance ended with each of our blades in the other's hearts.

"Your strength, extraordinary..." she gasped, blood flowing from her mouth. Her wings sagged behind her, and I could no longer see Millicent or Melina's shadow.

"The mark... of a true Lord..."

The Wall fell.

Moonveil, wreathed in reddish black energy, pumped slowly with every beat of her heart. Her prosthetic blade fell from my own chest with her.

"O, dear Miquella..." She tried to reach out for the tree with her one real arm. "O, dearest Miquella, my brother... I'm sorry. I finally met my match..."

She collapsed.

Dead.

I pretended not to see that scarlet smile.

It was too familiar.

"He caused the whole world's breaking,

That tortured soul I met.

In a prison of his making,

The man who can't forget."

Blood bubbled from my lips as I finished my song. My power was already working to heal me.

I fell backwards, unable to keep my feet.

Four cold, blue arms caught me.

Ranni gently poured crimson tears into my mouth, the rejuvenating draught finishing what my spell could not.

One of her hands wiped my face.

When had I started crying?

As if the floodgates had opened, I bawled my pain, despair, and grief into the comforting arms of my companion.

I cried from the self-hatred at being unable to trust.

I cried for the hopelessness I felt in my continued entrapment.

I cried because I was tired, yet I knew I couldn't rest.

I cried because I would never see the woman I loved again.

I do not know how long I wept, Ranni silently comforting me.

When I regained myself, I looked into those expressive blue eyes.

"Thanks," I said simply.

It was all I used to say to Melina when she pulled me from myself.

It was all I needed to say to Ranni.

"Of course, my Consort. I shall always be by thy side. Thy guiding moonlight." Unbidden, a chuckle left my mouth at her words. Her doll remained expressionless, but her spiritual body smiled radiantly.

She was terrible at hiding her emotions when it was out.

We stood, facing each other for a moment, but I broke the moment when I approached Malenia's fallen form.

Her Great Rune was as infested with the Rot as she had been. I would need to activate it upon a divine tower, but that was something for later.

I picked up the body of the shard bearer and laid her to rest upon the roots of the Haligtree, in that womb-like alcove, under the face in the wood.

"My Consort," Ranni spoke as flames gathered in my mouth. "Miquella is not here."

"I know," I said as I turned to face her. The fire grew behind me. Placidusax's Ruin would consume the great tree before the sun rose tomorrow. "If he was here, he wouldn't have left his sister waiting for so long."

I made my way to where my items lay near the site of Grace. As I redonned my armour, I asked the question that had burned me for years.

"I met a man who spoke of a way to save her. A secret way so she wouldn't have needed to burn." I steadily met that bright blue eye, finally asking the question that had haunted my every waking thought for years. "Was there another way? Could I have saved her?"

I didn't know what answer I wanted to hear.

"There was," Ranni answered. I took a deep breath. "Below the Capitol, locked away where no mortal is to reach, lays the Three Fingers. Their hatred and madness could have fueled the flames of the Forge. But any who met those twisted beings were possessed and robbed of their will. They would be bent on burning the world to ash. Melina would have left and fought thee before allowing thee to take such a path."

"Thank you," I said as I released my breath. "For being honest."

It didn't matter if I would be locked into the 'bad end.'

It didn't matter if she hated me.

There was a way I could have saved her.

I would have to live with that.