9. Basilica of St. Andros
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Every muscle ached after the excruciating battle. Thankfully, there were no more angels as he approached the rotunda, seeking the safety of the lantern. The man dragged his feet wearily, struggling to keep his heavy eyelids open, until he was greeted by the gentle phosphorescence of the lamplight. With a silent sigh, he collapsed inside the structure and allowed his eyes to close at last.
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The Well Maiden stood before him, her diamond tiara sparkling amidst the luminous white tree. "Welcome home, Lucid One," she spoke. "Thou hath journeyed far, and attained great wisdom. Kneel before me, and claim thy legacy."
The man knelt compliantly, eyes wide with reverence. The Maiden reached out with shriveled fingertips and gently pressed them to his forehead.
At once, the world exploded with light. His mind reeled, temporarily blinded by the brilliance, as a surge of emotions swelled within his breast. His blood flowed like a torrent, every fibre tingling with eclectic energy, until the light slowly faded. The Maiden withdrew her touch and gazed down at him compassionately.
He felt entirely like a new man. As he stood, he stared down at his body in wonder, half-expecting it to be someone else's. Though it appeared the same, some fundamental part of him had been altered, of that much he was certain.
"Thou hath claimed the echoes of the vanquished," the Well Maiden answered his unspoken questions. "Take comfort in their affinity, for they shall serve thy will implicitly."
The Lucid One nodded in silent promise. He stared around at the mystical dreamworld, marveling at how real it all felt. Curiously, one of the shattered archstones was starting to reform, with its cryptic runes standing out more boldly. He looked back to the great barren tree in the center, and was suddenly reminded of a promise that had been made to him.
He had an appointment with the serpent.
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It was easier to spot this time, now that he knew where to look. Ryn the snake flicked its purple tongue as he approached, unblinking eyes never straying. Tensen's journal still lay before it, tucked into the leafless branches just where he had left it.
"Ah, greetings, manling. How fares your grand journey?" The Lucid One offered a nod. "Ah, of course. I forgot you are the silent one. Well, you've come at the right time. I've unraveled these pages' mysteries, and would gladly share them with you. Take a seat, and listen to the teachings of the divine."
The man sat crosslegged in anticipation, and the snake began. "One of the key lessons is understanding the nature of the soul. I take it you are somewhat versed in the soul arts? Very good. Then you already know that souls are transient, fleeting, but also malleable. A soul can be broken, or it can be concentrated. The soul is not a constant, no matter how sorely mortals may wish it to be. Once you accept this truth, then you may begin to understand how to use it to your advantage..."
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The Lucid One made his way back to the well with a few more spells added to his repertoire, along with a sense of enlightenment. He understood the divine magic of the angels, if only a little, but it was enough for now. Besides, he could feel this mystical realm slipping from consciousness. He was waking up.
As he approached the Well Maiden, she turned to face him, her blue-tinged lips tight in concern. "Lucid One, thou must now enter the Basilica. Thy courage is commendable, yet the greatest challenge still awaiteth thee. The four Cardinals sit sequestered in the old cathedral, heedless of the suffering of humanity. Approach them, beseech them. Remind them of what they once were, then reclaim the remnants of the Lordbrandt which they shelter so reverently.
"The harmony doth fade, and our time grow'th short. Farewell, Lucid One. Mayst thou discover thy peace of mind."
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The dream faded, and the world was restored to sight. Though his rest had been fleeting, the man felt invigorated. His twin flasks weighed heavily in his pockets, their contents miraculously replenished with water and Estus. As he rose to his feet, he spotted a familiar figure resting within the kiosk, though it was not Morrow as he expected. He did not recognize the youthful face, only the conical bronze helm tucked beneath an arm, and those piercing blue eyes.
Brother Edson gave him a hearty smile. "Ah, awake at last! You were slumbering like a little babe. Pleasant dreams, I assume?"
The Lucid One nodded hesitantly. "Very good," the Sentinel continued, leaning against his large copper wheel. "Dreams are a gift, you know. A blessing from the angels to those whose intentions are pure. And for those that aren't... Well, I'm sure you needn't worry about that. Nos has chosen you, after all, and He never makes mistakes. See? You've unsealed the gates of the Basilica! Quite the feat, indeed!"
His icy gaze drifted to the towering doors in the distance. "I can't even recall the last time the gates lay bare. It must have been ages ago. Oh! That reminds me. You may have rung the bells, but you shan't be allow entry without this." He procured a thin golden rod, from which a tattered banner hung. "The standard of poor Saint Janith, the proscribed herald. The Cardinals have denounced her faith, but there are those who still believe in her piety. Present this to the gatekeepers, and they will surely open the way for you."
The Lucid One took the frail standard with care. A simple emblem was woven into its fraying cloth, portraying twin serpents biting each others' tails to form a loop. One was sewn in white, the other black; both colors had faded from the passage of time.
"Take care now," Edson bade him, "And do keep an eye out for Inquisitors. Nasty fellows, to be sure. They suspect everybody of being a sinner, even those who bear the mark such as yourself. Oh, and give my regards to Cardinal Richter!"
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Despite the Sentinel's cordial tone, the Lucid One approached the gilded gates with a sense of foreboding. It was not improved by the broken skeletons scattered about the walkway, as if they still begged for entry. He peered up at the colossal wall, but could see nothing beyond its lofty crown. Gathering his resolve, he squared his shoulders, lifted the banner high, and waited.
At first, nothing happened. Then, a pair of enormous beings rose into view on the upper wall. The man was surprised to see that they resembled the titan, Volk, with ironclad heads and stony skin. However, their bodies were cold and grey, unlike the blacksmith's molten flesh. They gazed down at him from behind their metal masks, then bent down and began pushing against hidden contraptions.
Slowly, the golden slabs opened outward, grating heavily against rock and bone. Soon there was enough space for him to pass through. He set the standard down among the unfortunate skeletons and entered the Basilica.
The Lucid One found himself within a spacious courtyard. Directly ahead was a great marble sculpture of four men, the infamous Cardinals. The central statue was presumably Saint Andros, a beautifully chiseled figure in billowing robes, and a tall pointed mitre atop his head. A saltire-tipped staff was raised in one hand, with the other spread charitably before him.
To his right was a heavily armored knight wearing a full-faced crowned helmet. He held a sturdy scepter encasing a bell — Saint Richter. The identity of the last two men were a mystery. To the left of Andros was a lithe figure in a peculiar mask, shaped like a horse's head. Two curved blades were crossed over his chest, and a lengthy bow rested on his backside. The final statue was less distinguished, clothed only in a simple garb, but unlike the others it had been defiled. The head was missing, leaving only a jagged stump.
The sculpture was silhouetted by a magnificent chapel behind them, with dozens of spires corkscrewing into the cloudy sky. Plumes of white smoke sifted from their steepled pinnacles, blending together with the cotton haze. Sunless rays of light reflected off the diagonal gold crosses that rested at the apex of every roof. In all, it was a glorious sight to behold, and the Lucid One stood transfixed by the inner beauty of the Basilica.
Suddenly, movement caught his eye, and he crouched low against a wall. A headless golden knight strode into view, holding a saltire-staff high. He was followed by a hideous procession of people chained to copper wheels, struggling to uphold their burdens on decrepit legs. A second knight brought up the rear, a mess of iron chains dragging from its gauntlets. The man remained still as they marched across the courtyard, passing through a line of burnt wooden stakes before disappearing up a wide staircase.
When he was sure the coast was clear, he dashed to the statues and crouched again. The courtyard was deceptively empty, making him even more cautious. Even the stakes were devoid of corpses, with only piles of ash to prove that some poor souls had once been burned there. He briefly noted how each wooden pole was capped with a copper sphere, but paid them little mind.
Despite his vigilance, another small detail drew his curiosity. Though there were no corpses tied to the stakes, there was one shriveled body lying against a base, its outstretched hand clutching something strange. After a moment he realized it was a tuft of black hair, tied off at one end with a cord. It was a talisman, the sort outlawed by the church and used only by heretics. Though he sorely needed a catalyst for miracles, he refrained from taking it, as it was undoubtedly cursed. At this point, he needed all the luck he could get.
Directly ahead was the arched entry of the cathedral, his goal. He drew a deep breath and hastily approached.
The archway contained two doors, which were oddly mismatched. The right was adorned with gold engravings, while the left was a dark iron cast. A keyhole rested in either side, and as expected, the doors would not yield to his desperate heaving. He silently cursed his luck, having come so far only to be stopped by yet another obstruction.
Just then, twin tremors shook the earth. He spun to face a pair of headless knights that had dropped from above, each wielding a long staff. They immediately charged, giving him little time to react. He leapt aside, but too early; the cross-headed polearm struck him in the side, flinging him bodily against the cathedral walls. The second one thrust forward, and he ducked away before it could crush his skull.
The man scrambled back to the statue as lightning streaked from above, barely avoiding the electric wave that spread across the ground. As he ran, a third knight appeared from an archway, leading another parade of wheel-bound vacants. He froze in his tracks, surrounded. The golden angel thrust its staff forward with an echoing roar, and the corpse-wheels somersaulted towards him, kicking up dirt as they spun ferociously. He dove from the first, but the next rolled over his legs, nearly snapping them in half. Grimacing through the pain, he threw himself behind the marble statues as more raced by. The wheels halted, their bearers struggling to find their balance, and he took the opportunity to strike back.
He raised his silver cane, releasing a large sphere of soul energy into the sky. When it reached a moderate height, it burst into smaller projectiles and showered down at the corpse-wheels. Many of them were struck by the missiles, but none were felled. The wheels were spinning again in an instant, and he jumped away as they crashed into the sturdy base of the statue.
Still on his knees, the Lucid One fired a soul arrow at the closest vacant, and the creature collapsed, slain for a second time. The man tried to reach for his flask, but a crackling lightning bolt forced him to evade instead. One of the headless knights charged in, jabbing with its lengthy weapon, and knocked him flat on his back. He had barely stood when yet another knight thrashed him with a handful of iron chains. His body burned in agony, but still he fought on.
The wheels were spinning again, and he dodged desperately between their flailing limbs. He cursed his luck; if only he had a chime, he could use his new spell to slow their movements. However, his cane was incapable of casting such magic. Instead, he fired another soul arrow that found its mark, and downed a second vacant. There were still plenty left, including four golden knights that closed in from all sides.
His cane separated and whistled through the air, twirling around him like a cyclone. He struggled to keep the enemies at bay, but one of the knights shrugged off a direct hit as it returned the blow with its chains. They struck the man over the head, sending his vision reeling. He stumbled, the cane lost its momentum, then another strike from a staff laid him out.
Before he could even stand, one of the copper wheels ran across his stomach. He gasped in silent agony as his insides ruptured. Floundering to his feet, he searched for a target, refusing to surrender, but the world was spinning about him like a top. Then, a deafening peal split the air, and a searing lightning bolt struck him square in the back.
Once more, the Lucid One collapsed. His nerves were on fire, his limbs laying unresponsive. Each breath came ragged as darkness crept around the edges of his sight, slowly overtaking him. He had no more strength left, not even enough to draw one of the flasks. He was dying.
He stared vacantly at the drifting clouds, an oddly peaceful view to complement the intense pain flooding his body. The last sensation he felt was of something binding his broken legs, then he was dragged unceremoniously across the rocky terrain. At last, the shadows fully eclipsed his vision, and the pain was no more.
With a final exhale, he surrendered to the endless dark.
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Appendix
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Black-Hair Talisman — A talisman woven from raven-black hair, often used by heretics. Resonates strongly with spells that lean towards the dark. It is no doubt the remains of some witch burned at the stake, but oddly, it is not singed in the least.
St. Janith's Standard — A tattered banner bearing the sigil of the divine herald, Saint Janith of Vozgus. It depicts a pair of snakes devouring each others' tails. Long ago, young Janith was granted passage to the Basilica, and venerated as a saint. However, Cardinal Andros promptly declared her a heretic for her blasphemous visions.
