Fortunately, Logan was still able to attune to the bonfire while caged. Lex, meanwhile, tried to avoid making eye contact with the skull resting in the ashes. Assured now that they wouldn't have to make the arduous journey back up through the Fortress if they died, they hurried back around to the roof. Lex followed the path of those that had gone before. Oscar and Solaire had hurried through. The Goddess' army had marched steadily onward, shields of black iron raised as proof against fire.

The prophet ignored any distractions, leading Siegmeyer up across narrow walkways that teetered on a handful of pillars which hadn't yet fallen. He ignored where Oscar and Solaire had gone off the path to explore the Fortress; speed was what mattered now. The trio wound a spiral course up the Fort's roof, the sound of explosions following behind. Some sort of four-limbed mark was carved into the pillars now, but they were all too worn to decipher.

Of course, Lex only had to take a quick peek into the past. It was a similar sign to the arms on a Berenike Knight's shield. There was a sort of egg shape carried by feathered wings. Beneath the wings were four orbs. The wings themselves sprouted from a four-petaled flower; the egg and orbs mirrored with the second pair of wings below. The cleric had no idea what it meant.

He continued leading the others upward until they approached the topmost part of the roof. There was a building there, a sort of squat chapel with a turret rising from the front. A northern giant stood on the roof alongside a pile of firebombs which were enormous even considering the thrower's size. A hollow Balder Knight with a crossbow stood watch over the winding narrow path upward, but Lex was more confident now, and just blasted it off the roof with a Force miracle.

Inside, there were three paths. A fog wall blocked the way toward Anor Londo; a stairwell led up the turret to the firebombing giant; and another path led to a guard tower.

"What are the odds we can trick the giant into breaking open Logan's cage?" Lex said, leaning against a pillar.

"Hm," Siegmeyer replied thoughtfully.

He set the sorcerer down at last, stretching his shoulders.

"I would rather not risk being crushed," Logan said flatly. "Prophet, can you not search the Fortress for the key with your sight? Or else, could you not observe the past to follow it after my imprisonment?"

"Maybe," Lex said, shrugging. "Problem is, so many undead died here that it's easy to get overwhelmed. I've been following two groups' echoes on the way up. Just searching the Fort for the key outright is like the proverbial needle in the haystack. For all I know, they threw it in the pit beneath the pendulums."

"I hope you weren't expecting much help against whatever beast lies past the fog, then."

"Aren't sorcery catalysts just foci anyway? Can't you… I don't know… shoot beams out of your hat instead?"

"Beams?! Beams?! I command the very flow of souls to-!"

"Shoot beams. It's not clever or anything. It's literally less complicated than throwing a spear, because at least then, you have to keep in mind the mechanics of the human body, the aerodynamics of the weapon, the movement of the air itself, and the reaction of the target."

"Trust a cleric to fail to understand the meaning behind-"

"Now, now-" Siegmeyer said, trying to calm them both down.

"There you are playing up that old stereotype," Lex said, smirking. "Get some original material, why don't you? At least simple clerics have transcribed the wisdom of the gods for centuries – for anyone to use! Even with all the books the Allfather's forbidden, we've been educating the common folk from the beginning! Not hiding all our knowledge in elitist, over-politicized academic libraries!"

Logan quivered under his hat, shaking the bolts of the cage.

"Blast it all! Why do you think I left? That dusty old academy was as repressive as this cage! From one prison to another! Your gods are no better than the Dragon School board!"

"Oh, really? And which set of superiors actually sent agents to solve this Undead Curse? Certainly not the one who sent assassins after you!"

Logan went still.

"My suspicions were correct, then. Heavens. To think this cage might have saved me."

"Well, not exactly. A cage is a better way of getting rid of an undead, isn't it? If you kill them a few times, they'll start to catch on and fight back. They were counting on the boredom driving you hollow."

The old sorcerer chuckled sadly.

"A little cleverer than I thought them capable of. I'll have to give them extra credit if I ever find them in one of my seminars."

He sighed overlong.

"Regardless, I cannot cast sorceries with my arms bound as such. Before you ask, placing my stave in my mouth will not work either."

"Well, there goes my whole plan," Lex said sarcastically.

Siegmeyer chuckled faintly, relaxing now that they weren't about to kill each other.

Lex looked around, one eye in the past.

"Say, Siegmeyer, could I entrust that giant up there to you?" he said, pointing at the ceiling. "I'm going to call in some extra help."

"Oho? It would be a grand battle for you to miss. Have you seen a summon sign somewhere?"

Summoning was a signature trait of undead, a power that had never been seen before and was kept quiet by the Way of White. By inscribing a sign with a special white stone, undead could leave an imprint of their identity in the natural flow of souls. By tapping into these inscriptions, undead could summon phantasmal allies made of white light. These undead phantoms would remain with their summoner until the boundaries between their worlds and timelines grew too distant, often at a crossroads of fate such as defeating a powerful enemy.

"More than just a sign," Lex said.

Without waiting for Siegmeyer or Logan to ask questions, he walked out to the guard tower, following the shapes of heroes long gone. What he saw was after the battle. There were scant few Berenike Knights left. The many Balder Knights seemed to be gone. Within the tower, Tarkus, Oswald, and Kirk sat around a table.

"There is no helping it," Oswald said. "I shall return to Her Grace's church and inform the remainder of the knights that they are needed here. Though it pains me to abandon the Parish to Izalith's spawn, we must take Anor Londo."

"They will all die," Kirk said matter-of-factually.

"Damn it all!" Tarkus roared.

The mountain of a man rose all of a sudden, knocking over his chair. He wore heavy armor of overlapping plates in the style of ancient Thorolund's legions. Accordingly, a long skirt provided extra protection to his groin, where the armor joints were thinnest. The helmet seemed to be newer, an itenerant knight's greathelm, with four eyeholes for some reason. As fireproof black iron was exceedingly rare, most of the suit was probably older than any present-day kingdom, and its battered and torn surface reaffirmed that notion.

"That Rendal! I thought you had assured his faith, Pardoner!"

Oswald smiled bitterly.

"Exiled or not, I am afraid His Former Majesty's own loyalties be torn. I will admit, however, that the late Rendal's actions would not have earned approval. Alas, Rendal had not yet sinned. Even my Lady can sense not the will to sin- only the deed."

Kirk growled at Oswald but said nothing.

"We needed that golem!" Tarkus continued. "Instead, we lost most of our men!"

"Nothing for it, Tarkus," Kirk said, cracking his knuckles. "That just means we've lost the direct route. We'll need to be clever in our approach."

"Fine," Tarkus grumbled. "You spent however long guarding one of those damned cathedrals. You find us a way in."

"Of course."

"Pardoner. Give me the fetich."

Oswald handed over a peasant girl's doll. It was carved of poor-quality wood and was green with rot. It posed ungracefully, a dancer carved by someone who had never seen dancing. It wasn't clear whether the doll's hair was meant to be pigtails or if the rest of the wood had simply broken off.

Tarkus took it and tucked it somewhere under the folds of his armor. He rose and walked to the end of the table before crouching. He reached under his skirts again and removed a stick of white chalk, signing the floor with his distinct monogram.

"There. The golem will not be down for long. Pardoner, when you return, use my sign. I'll finish it off again without losing any men this time."

And there it was. Lex stood before the summon sign for his goddess' Champion, right in front of the chair he had knocked over. The prophet touched it reverently, and the world rippled around him. There was a sound almost like a rusted gate opening, but somehow melodic. A soundless specter of Black Iron Tarkus rose from the floor as if from the surface of a lake.

No, that wasn't right. Wasn't it "the Sea of Humanity"? If it were truly a power born of Light, the gods should have been able to wield it; not merely undead.

"I'm not exactly sure how summoning works," he started, but the knight waved him silent.

Tarkus clapped the sides of his helmet where his ears would be and shook his head. Lex made the sign of submission to identify himself as a servant of Berenike and waited. After a moment, Tarkus nodded and hung his tower shield on his back. He extended a hand to help Lex up while resting his sword on his shoulder. The nightmarish thing was a pair of flat-tipped beheader's blades fused into a single piece with a spine of black iron.

Awed by the demeanor of his goddess' Champion, Lex quietly followed Tarkus back to the main building. Inside, Siegmeyer looked a little banged up but had seemingly won his encounter with the giant. He was regaling Logan with the tale of his victory, though the sorcerer was trying hard to ignore him. At seeing the silent knight, the Catarinan stopped abruptly.

"Oho! A bold-looking companion indeed! I should think we would have no trouble at all, even should a demon lie beyond the fog."

"By the fundamental forces!" Logan said. "So much siderite, wasted on mere armor!"

Tarkus headed straight for Logan.

"Hold on! He didn't mean to offend!" Siegmeyer said quickly.

The Catarinan tried to grab the legendary knight's arm, but Tarkus just shrugged off even Siegmeyer's tremendous strength. He took hold of Logan's cage and with a great heave, pulled until the latch snapped off. He opened the door, and the sorcerer stepped out with a sigh.

"Ah, much better. Come now, Knight Siegmeyer. Surely, you must know that phantoms are deaf and dumb. They are merely projections, after all. They can respond to stimuli, but they aren't really here. For all we know, this fellow is long dead."

"You'd be surprised," Lex said. "I know at least two of his companions are still in Lordran. Something went wrong once they reached Anor Londo."

"Interesting," Logan said casually. "They may know something of value merely by being that old. Recorded history is not always historically accurate, after all."

That was definitely a dig at clerics, who were usually the scribes who recorded history. Lex chose to ignore it.

"Alright, so we have Tarkus. Tarkus. The Black Iron Tarkus. What are we waiting for?"

"You keep saying that name like it means something," Logan sighed. "Very well. I am ready."

Siegmeyer nodded, adding, "With four of us, they don't stand a chance!"

Lex hurried the others through the fog wall. They found whatever structure had once stood there as rubble. Even the floor was crumbling. The only intact structures were six grossly out-of-place pillars. They were clearly carved by demons from the lighter-colored stone of Izalith. On each side was the symbol of a three-petaled flower, and each had a draconic-looking gargoyle perched on the side facing the platform.

Opposite the entrace was a bridge which led to a gate carved into the mountainside. Only, the bridge was in pieces, and the gate had been filled with rubble. Before it stood a behemoth of wrought iron. Its upper body was a bulwark of armor only broken by a distinct, black hole in the center. In its left hand was a plain woodsman's axe; only it was as wide and tall as Siegmeyer (and might have even weighed as much).

The golem swung the weapon in salute, and the sheer force of the swing caused a shockwave that exploded a distant pile of rubble.

"Logan!" Lex said as he ducked for cover. "There's apparently some way to control it! Can you take a look while we distract it?"

"Perhaps," the sorcerer said, stroking his beard. "I can see some-"

Tarkus charged directly at the golem. There was a tremendous clang as he crashed his beheading blade into its ankle. It wobbled unsteadily, too much weight in its armored upper body. With both hands, the Champion of Berenike drove the sword upward, into the crook of the golem's knee. It fell backward, off the crumbling bridge, and into the forest below.

"Perhaps not," Logan said.

Tarkus turned around and pounded his chest in salute before vanishing. Quietly, Lex wondered why Berenike thought he was fit to follow after such a hero. In any case, the three men were left to puzzle out how to reach Anor Londo when the gate was destroyed.

"If you fellow don't see anything, I'll go ahead and use my vision."

"Isn't it this?"

Siegmeyer touched whatever "this" was before either of the others could tell him not to. White shapes swooped down around the three. Disgusting creatures loomed over them, each twice the height of a man but with long, gaunt limbs. Bloodslicked claws took hold of the men's arms. Even Siegmeyer wasn't able to resist as a pair of the hideous things seized each man and bore him aloft.

Higher and higher, they rose above the sheer cliffside. At last, the slow-flying creatures crested over edge of the the basin, coming at last back into the light of the sun. The clouds burned amber above as the setting sun's light was reflected across the entire horizon. Below was lost Anor Londo, great capital of the gods.

Sunrays fell from the clouds like rain, casting the buildings jet and gold. There was no modest construction in the city, even the little buildings grander than any but the largest human cathedrals. The shimmering, whitewashed structures danced among the natural wood as if merely part of the basin's ancient forest. Buttresses rose higher than the trees to support towering spires. At the heart of everything was the palace of the Lord of Sunlight, sized to match Izalith's but infinitely grander for the delicacy and artistry of its construction.

Lex shrieked in horror. It was all a lie. The sky was marbled black. A silver sliver of a wasted moon struggled to keep the city from falling into total darkness. The buildings rose as pale white skeletons, devoid of a city's lifeblood.

The creatures set the men down atop one of the wall's turrets. There was a winding staircase leading down, so Lex didn't hesitate. He didn't care for the elaborate floral decor lovingly carved into the stairs' railing or onto the wall's arches. He didn't look back in time to see the history of the thistles or the poppies, the clovers or the fleur-de-lis. He didn't stop before the great murals depicting the agrarian culture which had once thrived here, the harvested wheat and the fresh bread. He just ran.

Siegmeyer chased after the prophet as best he could without starting to roll down the stairs. Logan merely followed at his own pace. Fortunately, Lex's stamina was nothing notable, and by the time he'd reached the bottom, he was huffing and puffing for breath. Siegmeyer wasn't exactly in shape, but he had to be at least fit enough to move in his armor freely. The knight caught up easily enough.

"Lexion, what's wrong? Certainly, those creatures were unnerving, but they don't seem to have meant us any harm."

"That's not it," Lex said, gasping from exertion. "I'm seeing one thing with my regular eye and one thing with the other. It's my prophetic vision that's scary. Siegmeyer, what do they say the sun is in Catarina?"

"The sun? It is the symbol of Lord Gwyn's guid-"

"No, what is the sun itself? A ball of fire or…?"

"Hm. Mm. Mmmm."

The knight rubbed the bottom of his helm thoughtfully.

"Ah! No. Mm."

Logan managed to catch up while Siegmeyer was hemming and hawing.

"Heavens," he said. "First the running and now you've stopped. What is the trouble now?"

"Sage Logan," Lex said, "What is the sun? The physical body in the sky."

"How funny. I believe this was on the School's list of questions a cleric would never ask. Well, frankly, we don't know. Astronomy is still a budding science. There are few interested in merely hypothetical benefits, and those who practice it are put under direct observation by the Allfather's agents. You can't imagine how hard it is to work while being watched by what might as well be your executioner."

"Fair enough. I'm familiar with that part of the Church. Now, hypothetically, what would happen if the sun just… vanished."

"Vanished? Could you be more specific? I can hardly imagine the sun just up and vanishing."

"No, I can't. Just imagine it suddenly disappeared. Like that forest below the Parish, where it's always night."

"Ah, I haven't been there yet, but it's interesting to learn that the frozen time phenomenon in Lordran is not limited to daylight hours. As you propose, should the world be plunged into everlasting night, everything would die. The world's surface would soon freeze, and even if it did not, plant growth would cease. Starvation for livestock and ourselves would not be far behind. What is this about? Did seeing the gods' city is merely a city fill you with existential dread?"

"No, that's not it," Lex said quietly. "I could tell you, but I don't think you'd believe it. Or you might believe it out of spite, which is worse, I guess."

"If you aren't interested in sharing, then shall we continue our journey?"

"Sure. Let's go."

Siegmeyer put a hand on the cleric's shoulder.

"Prophet Lexion, are you certain that you're ready to move on? I do not know what burdens a prophet may bear, but I can only imagine the mental strain visions must cause."

"I've been alright. Nothing really bad since- well, I don't think anything can scare me more than what I've already seen."

"Well, if you're sure."

The three continued toward the city. Though the stairs had ended, they were still far above the streets where the "commoners" of the gods lived. Some paths were blocked by guards, giant slave-knights in brass armor. These giants varied in size from only slightly larger than a Berenike Knight to the point that they dwarfed even the slaves of Sen's Fortress below. Each was of the ideal height to guard his post.

Their equipment was uniform: in one hand, a blessed halberd and in the other, a tower shield emblazoned with the elk horns which were a symbol of status in the giants' northlands. In spite of their shining equipment and presence in the city of the gods, they could all be identified as giant slaves by their visorless helms and disproportionately small heads.

Only, they weren't real. Each and every guard disappeared when Lex closed his normal eye. Of course, he kept it open most of the time since the darkened Anor Londo he beheld in his left eye lacked any sort of lamps.

There were vases which had once held flowers in a few places, but they were long dry and empty. The white paving stones were gorgeous and clean, but were they clean because no one was left in Anor Londo? The Way of White called Anor Londo "lost" because the road there had been lost to the wicked hearts of mortals. Had it truly been lost, even to the gods?

The three men passed through what may have been a gatehouse but now held only illusory guards, protecting chests tucked in the back of the room. Three mortal men – a heretic, a fool, and an apostate – walked unchallenged into a wide-open courtyard in the city of the gods. A small passage was tucked away to the left. A bridge leading to the Lord of Sunlight's palace was below and to the right. Ahead was another gatehouse and a winding path up the basin's rim to the Regal Archives, shrouded in fog.

"I am afraid this is where we will part, gentlemen," Logan said. "It has been a pleasure, truly. If you should ever be in need of the knowledge of sorcery, I will not hesitate to aid you."

The sorcerer bowed slightly, then continued onward toward the gatehouse. Lex and Siegmeyer continued after him.

"Worry not, Sage Logan!" Siegmeyer said, chuckling. "We are headed to the Archives ourselves!"

"Oh. Splendid! Splendid…" was all the sorcerer could say.

They passed through the guardhouse without issue, but the stairs leading to the Archives were directly blocked by a giant. As the stairs were narrow, this one was fortunately only the size of a Berenike Knight. Siegmeyer and Logan stopped to consider their options, but Lex kept walking toward it.

"Relax," he said. "It's just an illu-"

The prophet walked straight into the tower shield.

"What? But it's not-!"

The cleric was promptly shield-bashed back toward his companions. The guard took a threatening step forward.

"By Gwyn's beard! Logan, how do illusions work? This is nonsense! That guard's not real!"

"Illusions? This is hardly sleight-of-hand. Truly magical illusions are the stuff of myth. While I don't doubt such things are possible-"

"Okay, sorcery can only shoot beams, I get it. Assuming I'm not just seeing a future where everyone is dead, that guard does not exist. Can you shoot a beam that disrupts the pattern of souls there?"

Logan grumbled under his hat, but the cleric had his number. A master sorcerer couldn't simply retreat after his command of souls was questioned. Logan said something indecipherable, then raised his old, gnarled stave. There was a dull pulse, and the guard exploded into souls.

"Well, well," Logan said. "So it was true. Could this be the art of the Grandfather of Sorcery?"

"Splendid work, Lexion!" Siegmeyer said, patting him on the back. "I was worried that the gods had turned from us. I see now that it was another trial for their prophet."

"Don't get too excited. If the guards are illusions, and my eye is still working right, that means that the scary thing I see everywhere is also real. We're going to need to hurry and seek audience with the Duke."

"With Seath the Scaleless?" Logan said, taken aback. "He has been mad for years! For centuries! I merely seek to learn from his research, but you-? A cleric would seek to pull the Grandfather of Sorcery from his insanity? Perhaps I have misjudged you. You are an ally to learning, in your own, vulgar, dependent way."

"Well, it's not like learning got anyone killed or anything," Lex said, shrugging.

They continued on their way. The stairs led part of the way up, but the path was continued on the mountainside itself. Peculiarly, the Archives were high above even the palace of the Lord of Sunlight, on the uppermost edge of the basin. They soon came upon a tunnel which would have led them the rest of the way; only, it was blocked.

Ahead lay a fog wall. It shone with a terrible umber power, like the setting sun reflecting off the clouds again and again in a feedback loop until it became an eye-ruining radiance. Lex closed his normal eye and stared at it with both his vision and simply the extra durability of a demon's eyeball. Yet even then, it remained there. He could not see past it.

"Well, Logan, will you do the honors?" he said, trying to pass the buck.

"Don't be ridiculous. This is clearly the work of Gwyn. Even I must admit that. Therefore, the cleric among us is most suited for dispersing this particular soul fog."

Lex grumbled and wondered if he could pawn it off on Siegmeyer. After a moment, he approached the golden fog. He touched it cautiously with the back of his hand. He could feel his knuckles warm from the touch, and the hair down his arm stood on end. It didn't hurt him, but he couldn't pass either. He turned his hand around and tried pressing, but he merely pushed himself away from the fog. He hummed a little and wondered how much he wanted to reveal.

"I am Lexion of Carim, Prophet of Her Highness, the Dowager Queen Beryf! In the name of the Great Lord Gwyn's wife, allow me passage!"

Siegmeyer gasped at the revelation that Caitha/Beryf/Berenike was Gwyn's wife, but nothing happened. Lex growled at having given away his goddess' identity for nothing. It was a bad trade and a mistake on his part. Still, revealing a powerful patron normally opened doors, so to speak. He wasn't wrong in hoping that it would literally open this door. Maybe there was another option.

"Duke Seath! I met one of your channelers in my Lady's Parish! He said my eyes were open! What is it that my Lady doesn't want you to tell me?"

Still nothing happened. Logan seemed to have begun taking notes in a small journal of expensive parchment, though the topic couldn't be seen from where Lex was standing. Siegmeyer shook his head.

"Do not worry!" the knight said. "Surely, we will find a key of some sort in Anor Londo below. Oh my! I never thought I would have the opportunity to say something like that! Heaven below."

Siegmeyer chuckled, but even he was a little disappointed. Together, they started walking back down the hill, Logan lagging behind a little as he wrote. Suddenly, Lex looked up.

"What's that?"

There was nothing.

"Why, I don't see anything," Siegmeyer said.

"I don't either," Lex replied. "I hear it, which is weird. It's a woman singing."

"What is that infernal racket?" Logan said, looking up at last. "Something high-pitched and moaining."

"Oh, there it is," said Siegmeyer at last, echoing in his sturdy helmet.

The three looked around until at last Lex saw them in the distance. Like shadows cast by the fading sunlight, they gently descended from the height of the Archives. Three tremendous nocturnal butterflies whose wings glimmered with starlight. Their antennae were a twisted pair of thorned vines, and a silver halo of thorns spun behind each insect's back. Each had a tail which blew behind them like silvery hair.

As they drew closer, the haunting aria grew louder. It was the creatures' call, somehow. At last, they approached, ever so gently. Each took one of the humans for itself and returned to flight. This time, the men didn't resist. If the terrifying red-handed creatures were fine, why not these? And so, they took off into the darkening evening sky.