Lex advanced cautiously, but the canyon path was simply too narrow to avoid all the drakes. While none of the flying ones seemed attracted by his presence on the ledge, a single one of the bear-sized reptiles was sunning itself a short distance ahead.

Now that he thought of it, he still didn't have a real weapon. He should have asked for one while Quelaag was offering favors. Well, maybe if he was especially quiet, he could deal with the wyvern quickly. As silently as he snuck into the restricted section of the Cathedral's library, he crept behind the lazy drake. The cleric held his breath and raised his lash.

The iron studs raked across the back of the wyvern's head. It shrieked in panic and sleepily threw itself over the cliff, gliding toward another sunny ledge. Lex sighed and continued onward. Around the winding canyon walls, he went until he saw a crumbling bridge in the distance. The path ended there, on a broad plateau which supported one side of the bridge.

There were more drakes perched on that bridge than Lex had seen anywhere else in the valley. They'd built their nests there and worked together to keep a watch. Sentries flew past constantly, and some even patrolled the ends of the bridge on foot. Sneaking past those patrols would be a challenge, though hopefully the last he'd face here. His destination was not much further beyond.

A cloistered cleric, of course, was not suited to stealth. Lex had hidden behind the canyon wall and waited for the wandering wyvern to pass. As soon as he thought it had gone far enough, he'd dashed to the end of the bridge. Of course, he hadn't thought to check the path of the flying guards. One drake screeched, and a dozen turned to see the idiot dressed in blood red, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Lex sighed.

"Should I even keep asking for wings, Goddess? I feel like it's a jinx at this point."

His muscles clenched for a dead sprint, but he paused to catch his breath. The drakes were watching him, but they'd not moved yet. Should he just run or would that make them fall upon him as a flock? Or was it a lounge? Were flying lizards categorized like birds or terrestrial lizards?

Lex realized the wyverns were giving him a tremendous amount of time. He waved at them, but they didn't move. The flying sentries kept to their patrols, but all the grounded drakes stood and watched. The cleric looked to his destination again.

Overhead was a tremendous gateway which had fallen to ruin without its doors ever having been placed. It led nowhere – or rather, to a pile of rubble where the cliff had undergone incomplete excavation. Lex certainly wasn't familiar enough with the geography of Lordran to guess where it was meant to lead, but the sheer labor involved in tunneling through such a cliff emphasized its importance.

Yet the abandoned road wasn't his true goal. Rather, an elevator was tucked away amongst the rubble. It would take him much of the way up to the Parish, and from the Parish, he could reach Sen's Fortress. Of course, he couldn't imagine what purpose such an elevator had, either.

Lex took one step toward the bridge. The drakes didn't move. He looked back to the ruined gateway. They weren't trying to surround him either. He took the opportunity to get a good look at the far side of the bridge.

There was a gateway to mirror the one behind him, only it did have doors – a pair of solid black iron slabs the likes of which would probably bankrupt even the Thoron Empire at its peak. These gates were sealed by a pair of iron bars. The bars were each as tall as a man and probably longer than four drakes, tip to tail. The cleric wouldn't be surprised if the gates could hold against a true dragon. He squinted and looked with his blessed eye.

No, these gates could hold against even the wrath of Izalith. They were sealed four times with the mark of a deity. The floral sign felt familiar, but he somehow knew it was malformed, as if the maker had forgotten the very deity the protections invoked. Still, in spite of that mistake, this was the greatest craft of mankind Lex had ever seen. It wasn't as beautiful as the Cathedral, certainly, but the sheer, nation-ruining cost of the gate sang to his merchant blood. This was the majesty of New Londo, the city of Man built at the foot of the gods' capital.

Lex started to turn away, but the familiar sensation of a vision held him. A man of Carim like himself, faithful to the Goddess. The prophet walked to the edge of the cliff as he watched the shadow of the other undead climb along the underside of the bridge. The phantasm climbed the valley wall and snuck past the wyverns. It climbed the old rope ladder beside the gate, held up only by ivy now. There had been something on top of the gate turret the Goddess had wanted. The vision ended with that old hero slain by wyvern breath from above.

Lex licked his lips and considered the impossible task before him.

"Still a no on those wings, my Lady?"

He lacked the proper tools for climbing the bridge's underside like his predecessor, to say nothing of the physical ability. Should he try his luck instead? He walked closer to the bridge. The drake guarding that side stared at him. He set foot on the bridge. It didn't move.

"That's right! Be afraid of the big, bad dragonslayer! Who eats stone scales for breakfast? This guy!"

It finally sank in.

"Ornstein's lugged spear! I really ate part of a dragon, didn't I? This is the most disappointing legendary deed I've ever heard of."

Confident, he took several more steps. The drake screeched and charged at him.

"Oh, I just wasn't close enough yet. Thunderballs!"

Lex took off down the bridge at full speed. The nearest wyvern took to the air and closed on him quickly. Just as it dove to grab him, he tripped over something, falling out of reach. He fell amongst a pile of wyvern eggs, one of which had gotten caught underfoot. As another drake approached him, he haphazardly threw one of the head-sized eggs over the side of the bridge. The drake dove after the egg instead of chasing the culprit, so Lex stumbled to his feet and resumed running.

They were coming at him from the far side now. As he ran out of breath again, the cleric dropped and slid along the worn stone. A chunk of the bridge was missing, and a bandit's corpse was splayed away from it, as if slain in a blast. One of the flying drakes dove for the cleric but missed and slipped off the crumbling stone. He skidded to a stop beside the corpse and wrenched a round shield from its atrophied hand.

As Lex rose to his feet again, he threw the shield like a discus. The shield beaned a drake in the teeth. It winced just long enough for him to run past. He was almost there, he just had to-

"Wait, aren't I going to be completely vulnerable on the ladder?"

He didn't stop running, in spite of the danger. If he stopped, his fear might catch him. He jumped onto the ladder, rocking the old rope. A wyvern on the ground behind him drew its head back imposingly, then unleashed its breath.

"Lightning?! Impossible! How can a degenerate, inbred offshoot of dragons use the weapon of the gods?"

The shattered bolts streamed against the turret just below Lex's feet. The cleric climbed faster, powered by indignant rage.

"This is more nonsense than that headless thing shooting lightning! What's next? Necromancers using pyromancy?"

A thunderdrake strafed him, spraying its electric breath along the turret. Lex threw himself out of the way, dropping slightly before he caught hold of the wild ivy growing beside the ladder. Fortunately, the ivy's roots had grown deep, and it bore his weight. He threw himself over the top of the turret as another wyvern flew past.

There was some sort of mechanical device before him, but it seemed to have been disassembled. His left eye saw the phantom shape of a tremendous ringed wheel with a lever. He saw it faintly – the city had been sealed from inside. The deity's sign on the gate blocked him from seeing more. How peculiar. Who could block the Goddess' power?

A wyvern tried to divebomb the cleric, but he repelled it with a violet shockwave, casting its lifeless body onto another drake on the ground. Without missing a beat, Lex checked the belt pouches and fingers of his predecessor's corpse. There was an intricately-engraved silver ring embedded with a ruby cut in a droplet shape.

"A red tearstone, huh? That could be useful with how often I'm half-dead from falling off something. Speaking of which."

He looked over the side of the turret. Jumping would hurt, but letting the wyverns break his fall might ultimately be safer than trying to slowly descend the ladder. He sighed.

"Goddess, give me wings. Please?"

Lex awkwardly jumped off the tower just as a wyvern was flying at him. The impact knocked the air out of him and sent him tumbling sidelong. He landed on the back of another wyvern which had been preparing to strafe the turret. The cleric bounced again and landed on the drake he'd already hit with the falling corpse. He rolled down its back as it crumpled, leaving him mere steps from the bridge and mostly unharmed.

Lex blinked, then immediately began sprinting without thinking too hard about his unlikely survival. A pair of drakes blocked his way, one above and one below. He raised his wand and blasted through like a siege firebomb. By the time he reached the empty gateway, his vision was blacking from lack of air. Even the stamina-quickening ring and shield he carried couldn't restore him swiftly after such an exertion.

Huffing and puffing, he stumbled up the rubble. Behind the stub of a wall was a turret like the one he'd climbed, only since he was on the interior side, there was a doorway. He ducked inside and wound the corner, collapsing in a heap now that he was safe from the wyverns.

It was some time before he finally staggered to his feet and entered the elevator. It was a corroded and green metal platform in a round shaft. Chains supported it, but otherwise it was a similar mechanism to Izalith's lifts, controlled by a raised panel in the center. As with Izalith's, the panel had an elaborate sigil on it, though this one quite obviously lacked the magical significance and didn't ooze Chaos fire.

Only, the elevator shaft's decoration was unusual.

"Goddess, this is a little excessive. What was New Londo?"

Eight statues of the Goddess surrounded the elevator. Here, she was depicted in her role as mother of Lord Gwyn's children. In fact, it looked like some of the statues had originally been mother-and-child figures. The children had been removed, but nothing had been done to correct the Goddess' pose.

Lex turned away and stepped on the raised panel. Some mechanism echoed from deep within the shaft, and the chains began clacking upward. After a short ride and finding himself surrounded by even more eerie, vandalized statues at the top, the cleric stepped into a small cave illuminated by a bonfire.

"Oh, thank the Goddess! Now I don't have to worry about being reborn in Izalith and explaining myself."

He sat at the fire and let his aching legs rest. As always, an unknowable time passed before he rose to continue. Fortunately, the remainder of the journey was simple. Though a strange power lingered on the air, Lex merely had to force his body to climb a winding cliff. Through light fog. In the dark.

Thin moonlight streamed over the forest while insects sang their nighttime songs. Everywhere Lex had been in Lordran had been trapped in perpetual day, though at different hours. It was unnerving for the sun, the very symbol of Lord Gwyn, to be absent so suddenly. The thin moonlight was no comfort, and the fog nearly hid the moon's shape.

"Goddess, may your light guide me instead."

Even without his holy eye, the prophet could make out the Parish rising over the grand basin. As he climbed, he also drew closer to it, the path slowly making its way around the rim. It took longer than he would have liked, but Lex did eventually reach the top.

There was a strange flower there, chiming faintly and pulsing with a brilliant white light. He was curious, but as he knelt to examine it, he heard a rustling from the forest beyond. For the first time since his rematch with Quelaag, he actually drew his shield. The light was to his back now, both the dim moon and the shimmering flower.

Cautious, he stepped into the darkness. The cleric pointed his wand back and forth defensively. As he turned down the path to the Parish, something crept out of the dark of the trees' canopy. It had the shape of a man but with a bulbous head that widened at the top.

The thing rushed at him, then immediately became perfectly still. It raised its arms in a familiar motion. Lex stopped himself halfway to kneeling, too late to avoid the pair of whips which tore his robes. The cleric slapped his cheeks to clear his instinct to accept punishment. Whatever the creature was, it wasn't a holy authority. He wouldn't yield his back so easily.

As the figure lashed again, he batted the whip away with his shield and rushed ahead with his lash. While there was no flesh to tear, a careful swing entangled it with the monster's vines. As the thing tried to get free, Lex pulled with all his might, throwing it to the ground. Before it could react, he began stomping on it fiercely.

"This'll teach you to strike a cleric!"

Eventually, it stopped moving, and he took a closer look. It was a golem – a servitor created with an ancient art of sorcery. It was a wooden doll in the shape of a man, only it had a deeply familiar blue-violet sheen. What sort of jaded grandmaster would use such a rare and powerful technique to create a trivial servant like this? Worse, what had defeated that ancient master, that a golem would run wild like this one? Perhaps most concerning…

"Isn't this that blue gunk I spat up? What's it doing here? Was the sorcerer who created this golem overwhelmed by their humanity?"

There was something faintly disturbing about the golem – about the whole forest. It reminded him of the Deep, of wicked things slumbering just below the surface of holy water. He didn't think he would get much in the way of memories from a golem, but he chose not to even try viewing its past. Quickly, Lex hurried down the path, following the lights of more shining flowers.

At last, he stood before a surprisingly elaborate entrance to the oldest part of the Parish. The columns were an old style which had been used in antiquity, marking this entrance as one of the oldest human structures in Lordran. Why did the Parish open to this overgrown forest? Everything he'd seen in Izalith – in hell itself – had made sense. Why was this darkened wood so much more frightening and mysterious?

The cleric grumbled and entered his mistress' temple. The interior was wide open and had been supported by many great columns in the past. Now, like the underground chamber where he'd fought the sewer dragon, the roof was held up only by the gods' superlative architectural techniques. The columns were strewn about the room, which spanned several levels with several wide staircases. It was no mystery as to what had destroyed the pillars – the culprit sat in the midst of the ruin.

Ahead was the creature Oscar and Solaire had mentioned, the monster of black stone which held a catch pole. It was facing away, but Lex wasn't sure how its eyeless, earless slab-for-a-head sensed movement. He certainly didn't have the stamina to cross the room in a single sprint. He'd need to think of how to avoid it. The one-legged creature couldn't move fast, but it could jump a great distance in a single bound and could hurl its strange, sorcerous lightning.

He thought quietly. When he and the others had encountered one in Izalith, they had been pressured for time. It was resistant to Quelaag's blade and even her flames to some extent, but was that all? Could he defeat it alone? Was it acceptable for the Chosen of Berenike to let some unknown monster idle among the ruins of her temple?

Lex went to his pouches and slipped the red tearstone ring on his right ring finger. A red tearstone was said to be a blood tear of Goddess Caitha, shed for the undeserving dead. Well, there were also those who said Goddess Caitha was a demon or that she was Goddess Velka trying to earn new worship.

"Maybe I should ask the Goddess when I see her again."

Lex crept on his toes until he was nearly behind the monster. It shifted slightly and tilted its slab over one shoulder as if to stare at him expectantly. He began his attack hymn, and the long haft of the catch pole swung backward. He dropped to a squat and unleashed the spell.

The monster didn't react. It merely turned on its good leg and smashed its bladed ring into the stone. Lex sprung foward and stabbed his wand between its ribs before firing again. Cracks formed along the surface of the stone, but the monster didn't seem to care. It swung its pole back toward him.

In spite of his holy eye, the prophet still wasn't experienced and misjudged the distance of the angled weapon. He dodged late, and the haft cracked against his skull. The tearstone thrummed with power, singing in tune with the specter of its wearer's impending death. A surging force flooded Lex's body as he unleashed his third and final shockwave.

The violet energy was tinged with the red of the tearstone's magic, pushing back even the impassive stone beast. Still, powerful as the miracle had been, Lex was in trouble. He was having difficulty keeping his eyes pointed the way he wanted them. Blood oozed steadily from his left temple. Frankly, it may have only been undead resilience which had kept his head from bursting like a grape.

While the room seemed to spin around him, he tried looking past the monster to the other doorway. Something white caught his eye, but then the figure was gone. Was it even safe to continue? Should he try to flee the way he'd come? With the way things were going, he wasn't sure he could keep the floor steady long enough to run. Even if he could escape the monster, the odds were pretty good he'd fall off the cliff and into the basin.

"If I die, I guess it's better to die defending the Parish."

The monster leapt toward him, the catch pole falling like thunder.

"Fool. Should you protect a place or its people?"

Somehow, a figure in white stood before him. A shining pillar of light tore through the roof, striking the monster to the ground in a burst of shimmering white feathers. A burning hole smoldered through the center of its torso.

"Resigning oneself to death is the first step to hollowing. Have I judged wrong in my Chosen Undead?"

The figure turned about with a dancer's grace, bare feet sliding over the stone like ice. White robes beneath a mantle which shone like virgin snow. Rivulets of midnight-black hair framing porcelain skin in the shadows of an ivory hood. A leaf-shaped clasp of obsidian and silver held the garments together, an emblem of the black diamond parting midnight seas. In one black-nailed hand was a book bound in black leather.

Lex dropped faster than the monster, though the blood loss certainly helped. His forehead pressed into the stone until it imprinted on his skin through the hood.

"Rise. It is troublesome to speak with a worm."

"At once! My lash is ready if you have need of it, my Lady!"

The cleric stood at military attention – or at least what he had read was military attention. He didn't dare speak. He had seen her feet on the floor. Touching the floor. This was no crow wearing her shape. What had he done to warrant a personal visit?

"What has become of your mind, prophet mine?"

Her voice was subtly unsettling, now that it wasn't being projected by crows. It was precise, mechanical. There was no echo to it, in spite of the vast stone chamber. It didn't sound like it came from her lips but went directly into his ear.

There was no impression of movement. Her robes didn't flutter from her approach or rise and fall with breathing. She had no nervous tics but remained perfectly still, book and black feather pen in hand.

This was not the aspect of Berenike, warrior-queen of old. This was the Raven-Haired Witch, Velka.

There was no sense of awe or dread. Lex wasn't overwhelmed as with the archdragon or merely impressed as with Quelaag. The hair prickled on the back of his neck. The presence was wrong. Not glory but a void. Many gods had withdrawn from the world of Men, but Velka had vanished. Her archbishop, the ancient saint-king Oswald, had insisted on keeping a low profile. Why was the Goddess here in person?

"I… don't understand, o Goddess."

"Precisely. I bid you use your mind, yet you hem and haw. No doubt a side effect of your recent backslide into barbarism."

Lex's breath caught in his throat. How-? The crows, of course, but how did they find him? Were they waiting for him to emerge from Izalith? How much did the Goddess know? Had she been hiding so close all this time?

"The whispers in your heart are plain as day. Speak, or I shall speak for you!"

Even perturbed, her tone was measured.

"My Lady, you had said it was fine to pursue my heritage."

"You may do so, prophet mine, but do not forget your place! I did not give second sight to a beast! My brand is all that has kept you from drowning in the Abyss. There is a fate worse than hollowing, child, and you encroach upon it."

"The ancient Men. What are we, Goddess? Even demons can't-"

He hesitated. He didn't want to admit what he had done, even to himself. Yet the Goddess surely already knew.

"-can't devour the stone dragons."

"What, indeed. The humans are half-formed, birthed far before their time. They are monstrous and incomplete. In their despair, your ancient Lords struck a deal with Gwyn. As you have seen, they sacrificed their power for the gods' fair form and wisdom."

"Then did I… renege on the deal?"

"The price is far greater than one undead. You merely slipped through the cracks. The oath is sealed in Flame and will last as long as it burns. You bear its sign upon your flesh even now."

"The Darksign which marks the undead."

Lex's hand clutched at his chest. He couldn't feel the distorted flesh beneath the leather armor, but his lip curled in disgust. His eyes slowly widened, and he looked up at the goddess.

"'As long as it burns.' The Darksign itself. Not the First Flame? What happens when the Darksign goes out? What about… what about when it's drenched in that black sea?"

The witch smiled broadly but didn't show her teeth.

"You've seen it, then. You are stronger now than I thought." She paused, then continued when Lex merely stared: "Why don't you experiment?"

"I… I will consider it, with your leave, o Goddess."

She chuckled softly.

"You are a danger, now, you must realize. You bend the shackle of Anor Londo. I know not how you came to do so, but it has doomed you. No mere god may stop me from erasing this sin, but so long as their king is in Anor Londo, he will declare it once more. The Blades of the Darkmoon will come for you."

Lex's eyes widened. Acting against the overzealous rules of the Way of White was one thing; defying the gods themselves was another. He had only read of the Darkmoon in secret texts, which yet still said very little. The gods' order of assassins, the merciless blades of retribution.

"My Lady," the cleric begged, "I have done nothing intentionally!"

"Do not speak ill of your accompishment. My sincere congratulations, Lexion. Soon, you will break free of your yoke and join the ranks of the immortals. Your souls will no longer be consumed by Fire – unless you wish it."

Lex stuttered something, but couldn't find where to start.

"Did I not bless you for your wits? Where are they now?"

"My apologies, Lady! If I am immortal, what do I have to worry about from the Blades of the Darkmoon? I'll just be careful about hollowing, and-"

"Will you? I saw you resign yourself to death just now. That is the first step to hollowing. If both your arms are broken, fight with your teeth! My Chosen does not bow to any but myself! When the Darkmoon come for you, take their eyes for the arrogance of assaulting my Prophet!"

"Yes, my Lady!"

Lex almost saw her eyes as he gazed upward, but something caused him to look away. The fiery color of Quelaag's gifted left eye became tainted by blue-black bile. After a moment, it took the violet shade of the goddess' miracle, just as Lex's original left eye had.

"There is one further matter I wish to discuss with you, child," Velka said, smiling. "Your next trial is Sen's Fortress, the Fortress of Repose. That is, a warrior's repose."

"An honorable death, you mean."

"Indeed. It is a gauntlet given to Man by the God of War, that precocious child. 'The Man who conquers this Fortress is more worthy of my attention than all the paper-pushers of Anor Londo.' What an amusing king he made."

Lex's eyebrows quirked.

"Why did your firstborn fall from grace, my Lady?" he said carefully. "It seems you still think highly of him. Who else but you could erase the name of a god?"

The old queen-dowager smiled faintly.

"You, like he, underestimate the power of politics. Humans have done the same. Erasing a name is not so difficult if one is clever. Answer this: who built New Londo?"

"It was your great husband, Lord Gwyn, though I do not know what could have made him trust the Four Kings."

"Oh, who told you this?"

"Why, you did, my Lady. 'A great capital of undead below Anor Londo,' no?"

The goddess laughed three times.

"No. I said, exactly, 'the King of Anor Londo.' I wonder, which king was it? Are there kings of which you are not aware? Who is king now, and why does he allow Lloyd to lead the humans?"

Lex froze. Were the gods really as filthy as humans?

"I understand, my Lady. I will meditate on this new insight."

"See that you do. As for the Fortress, I will grant you no special boon or knowledge. I merely warn you that you will die many times if you are not cautious. When I ordered my Great Champion gather knights to hunt my archnemesis in Anor Londo, a mere handful escaped the Fortress. You will find their remains there. Use them as you please."

"I will not shame your name, Goddess."

"That is not possible, my child. Now, can you walk?"

"Of cour-"

Lex thought better of acting tough in front of an all-seeing goddess.

"Maybe not."

The goddess turned without moving her limbs.

"'Andre,' I believe you call yourself, aid me!"

"Ah! Just a moment!" a gruff voice echoed out.

With another voice to compare, the unnatural clarity of the goddess' tone became unnerving again. Lex resisted the urge to shiver.

A massive, white-haired man emerged from the Parish-side doorway. Andre was easily the most muscular man Lex had ever seen, though perhaps he also ate a little too well. He wore only bland slacks, with leather gloves and boots. His chiseled torso was completely exposed, covered in burns and blade scars. A wiry beard and ponytail ran into one another before trailing down his front and back.

"I beg your pardon?" he called out.

"Don't be cute," the goddess said flatly. "Carry my servant to the bonfire above. I shall be displeased if he bleeds out after I've personally rescued him."

The man nodded.

"Mm," he grunted. "Of course, your ladyship."

Andre didn't blink at the goddess' presence. He simply hustled down the stairs and threw Lex over his shoulder.

"Up you go," he said, laughing.

The man bounded up the stairs without consideration for Lex's aching head. The goddess followed silently. As much as the cleric had difficulty seeing straight between his bleeding skull and bouncing on Andre's should, he could tell the way his mistress moved was unnatural. Her feet touched the stone and moved her robes, but her head didn't bob. It remained perfectly level, as if she were riding a cart with perfectly even wheels.

Through the doorway, they entered a much smaller room. There was a furnace, an anvil, material, and an absurd stockpile of weapons stuffed into one corner. As Lex's vision drifted back, he saw a great deal of Balder equipment under a pile of more recent works. Unused, even armors' capes and skirts were mostly intact. On closer inspection, there were even the distinctive greatshields of the Berenike Knights.

Lex lost track of them as Andre started up a narrow, spiraling staircase, and the speed of the bouncing nearly caused the cleric to black out. After a moment, the bouncing stopped again, and the enormous blacksmith thrust Lex down in front of a bonfire.

"There you go! Awfully brave of you to take on that titanite demon; just don't overdo it! Knowing your limits keeps you from going hollow."

He stroked his beard for a moment.

"Ah! I nearly forgot to introduce myself. I'm Andre, of Astora. If you require smithing during your attempt on the Fortress, then speak to me."

Lex blinked. That was absolutely not an Astoran accent. He wasn't sure what it was, though it sounded vaguely Thorolunder.

"Sure, thanks," Lex said uncertainly.

He reached out to the bonfire and let the healing flame wash over him. As his mistress reached the top of the stairs, he noticed the same strange effect he'd seen in the blighted swamp – the bonfire began to pull toward her. The cleric tactfully chose to ignore it.

"My Lady, I believe I'm well enough to continue. Do you have further need of me?"

He turned from the fire and knelt before the goddess.

"The least I could do is to see you off, my child. The path forward is perilous indeed."

"My Lady! I'm… touched. You came here to warn me of the danger and are even attending my departure. You do so much for a servant who is not even a priest."

"Let us walk," she said, motioning with three fingers.

Lex began toward the archway opposite the bonfire. They were still below the Parish, but a long stone bridge led away from it, toward the peak of the mountain on which it had been built.

"The breaking of your binding," the goddess began, "is a matter of grave importance, true. Yet I have not been blind to your pleas. Your faith in the face of temptation – in the face of being offered that which you greatly lusted after – shall be rewarded. I shall do as you have asked and more."

"I get wings?" Lex said excitedly.

"Not yet, child. They shall appear when you are ready. Like so."

The goddess stopped, and her robes shifted. Bone spurs emerged from her back, rapidly growing into thin, nightmarish wings which almost looked more like claws. A moment passed, and black feathers emerged from them. Four raven wings, just as on the shields of the Berenike Knights. Without so much as flapping them, the goddess rose from the ground.

"What lies below, Prophet?"

They were midway across the bridge. Though the running water could scarcely be heard, Lex knew there was only one possiblity.

"The River of Tears, my Lady. Named for Goddess Caitha, whom I suspect to be another of your forms."

"Splendid. Correct on both accounts. I have many names, each more false than the last. Caitha was a name I used to great effect before that diligent Morne discovered I was not his 'maiden' alone. Nevertheless, this river marks the boundary of my reach. In truth, I risk much appearing even so near, but I suspect my enemies in Anor Londo are otherwise engaged and will not notice I have crept so close."

"My Lady, you are beyond gracious-"

"Enough. I have come here for a second purpose, one which could not be delegated to mere crows or my Pardoner. You have made one mistake, my Prophet, and I must correct it immediately."

"My apologies! Just name it, and I'll-!"

"No. The task would be too cruel for you now."

Lex quickly went over all the many mistakes he'd made. There was only one obvious one, of course.

"Please, no, my Lady!"

"I will answer your prayer, child. For your faith in resisting the temptations of the demon Quelaag, I will not slay her, nor the sister she loves above her own life."

"My Lady! They're just people! Demons are just people!"

"Yes. They are gods and Men. But the Lord Soul must be returned to the Flame. I swear on my name that I shall not harm the people if they but return the Soul peacefully."

"Didn't you just say your names were all false?" Lex shouted.

The goddess smiled wider than a human mouth would be able, showing her teeth. A moment passed, and the smile kept spreading. She had two distinct rows of gleaming, bestial teeth.

"You're learning. Now go, lest I rescind my mercy."

Lex's face clenched. He took a deep breath, then crossed the river. As he made his way to the far side, he felt the goddess' withering gaze on him, so he didn't dare so much as look back.

The stairway up from the bridge led to a short deck before the fortress gate. The eerily dark forest surrounded the bridge on both sides from the Parish to the Fortress. Distressingly, it was still daylight on the side further from the heart of the forest.

Lex swallowed and tried to ignore that too. Ahead, the Fortress was a menacing structure of long-worn stone, carved directly out of the mountainside. A three-part heavy iron gate stood at the top of a short stair, the gate's middle panel opened into interminable gloom.

The cleric reluctantly climbed the stairs and entered. His physical eyes needed time to adjust to the lightless room, but he immediately began looking around with his second sight. There were a number of grain amphorae on either side, and-

He felt his foot sink beneath him. He froze. Rash movement could-

An iron bolt the size of a man's arm shot through his stomach. A second and a third followed immediately. Lex fell over, dead.

From the middle of the bridge, the goddess rubbed her temples in exasperation.

"Father, I sorely lack the patience for Brother's role…"