Chapter 53: When Shadows Bleed
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"I can't believe how good I feel!" Lucatiel exclaimed, slowly flexing her body as she felt power rushing through her veins. Everyone nodded in agreement, awed at the energy they could sense coursing through their bodies.
It was the morning after, and the Undead were still coming to grips with what had happened.
Everything that had happened last night seemed like a dream. They could remember that white phantasmal people had appeared before them, but the rest of it was all hazy. Still, there was not a single person who did not have a smile on their faces. Nor was there someone who didn't have an explosive amount of power inside them. It was simply divine. Literally.
"I feel like I could take on an army again," Aslatiel mused, Vengarl and Benhart nodding in agreement.
"What do we do now?" Chloanne asked, glancing over at Erik. He was standing in front of Majula's bonfire with Kale, the two of them discussing teleporting straight into the heart of Drangleic Castle.
Since the explorer had seen and touched the bonfire nearest to the supposed entrance to the Throne he had agreed to take Erik and his group there to bypass any traps or tricks Natasha might have set up.
"Well, my group and I will be heading over to finally light the First Flame," Erik announced, glancing over at the warriors of the party.
Mytha, Benhart, Vengarl, Raime, and the Dark Sisters. His old group was now supplemented by Lucatiel and her brother, as well Saulden and Rosabeth.
The others in Majula shifted slightly, giving each other uncertain looks. At last, Licia was the one who stepped forward.
"We too would like to accompany you, Erik Potts," the Cleric of Lindelt said, waving her hand at the rest of the inhabitants of the town. Melentia, Maughlin, Carhillion, Gilligan, Magerold, Chloanne, Lenigrast. Even Shalquoir and the Emerald Herald looked resolute.
"We wish to see this all end. How many others can claim they were there to witness the world be reborn, and the Curse of the Darksign lifted?" Licia asked rhetorically.
Erik merely nodded.
"I see. Well, as long as you stay safe, I don't see why not."
"Don't you think they might get in the way?" Vengarl inquired, glancing at the group. Most of them were civilians with only basic understanding of combat at best. The chef merely shrugged.
"They're Undead, so death is mostly an annoyance at this point. Not to mention they've all gained some skills just by living in Drangleic all this time. Besides, we have plenty of warriors here to help them if they get into trouble."
"Well, that's your choice I suppose," the Red Rust Knight conceded.
Everyone gathered in a large circle around the bonfire, with Shanalotte standing beside Kale to help guide the larger group through the twisting paths of the flames.
Even if the cartographer knew how to teleport straight to the spot, he still needed support in dragging along such a massive number of people.
"Is everyone certain they wish to do this?" Shanalotte asked, looking over the diverse group. Nods went all around, and she sighed but couldn't help a thin smile crease her lips.
"Very well. Kale, if you would."
"Yes, ma'am!" The explorer said nervously, placing a hand on the twisted sword wrapped in mystical flames. He closed his eyes and thought of the place he needed to go, and a picture formed in his mind of the bonfire he needed.
Sensing he had made the connection, the Emerald Herald placed her own hand atop Kale's, channeling all her might as a Firekeeper in order to keep the group coherent and intact.
A golden explosion swept over the Cliffside, and for the first time in a very long while Majula, Town of Beginnings, was completely empty. Yet hope still lingered, and as the golden blaze died down, a veritable horde of spectral figures could be seen faintly in the sparkling embers that drifted on the winds, staring longingly at the bonfire and wishing the people who had just left good luck.
\\~~~/
"Argh! Whoever's elbow is in my gut, please remove it!"
"Hey! Whoever's touching me, stop!"
"I think someone's shoe is pressing against my back!"
"Your sword's poking me!"
"…That's not my sword…"
"Ahhnnn~! Oh, so good~!"
It took a while for everyone to untangle themselves from the massive pile of bodies and escape the tiny chamber the bonfire had been placed in, but at last everyone was back on their feet looking around in awe.
"Definitely the basement," Vengarl said, noting the hallway full of kneeling spearmen statues across from them. "I think this is down below the main entrance somewhat.
"Indeed. If I recall, King Vendrick's had part of this place sealed off due to construction," Raime noted. Everyone turned to the knight in shock, and the massive blue and black man shifted uncomfortably. "What?"
"Oh, sorry, it's just that your voice…" Erik said, trailing off.
"What about it?"
"Well, it's just, you see…" Benhart mumbled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
"I mean it's not that unusual I suppose…" Aslatiel mused, eyeing the former Left Hand.
"We're surprised you sound so feminine," Chloanne said bluntly, smiling in that oblivious airheaded way Erik and Lucatiel had come to recognize as just a cover for her sharp wit.
Vengarl coughed, trying to hold back his laughter as Raime pouted. Nadalia had no compunctions and giggled loudly.
"Yeah, I was surprised too the first time I heard him! I half wondered if he was actually a woman hiding their gender, or perhaps like the Darksun and having both sets of tackle-and-bait. But no, he's just a pretty boy!"
"Look! Over there!" Shanalotte exclaimed, distracting everyone as she pointed towards a massive gilded black set of doors.
"I don't remember those being here before," Raime stated, silently glad no one was bringing up his voice again.
"They look just like the ones that blocked off Aldia's estate and the Memory of Jeigh," Erik gasped. He walked confidently forward, and as he approached the seals in the door detected the King's Ring upon the chef's hand. Slowly it began to creak open.
Everyone held their breath, waiting for the doors to completely reveal what lay beyond. They were not disappointed.
Before them was a massive cavern, impossibly deep and wide. And situated in the middle of it all was a giant stone tower, fortress-like in appearance and radiating an imposing sense of power. Connecting the tower and the other side of the doors was a long, thin strip of rock acting as a bridge.
Either the group was much deeper underground than they'd first assumed, or magic was involved somehow, twisting and distorting space so everything fit.
"The Kiln of the First Flame," Elana whispered in awe. She could feel it in her very being; a raw, primal Light that stained everything will fathomless purpose and drenched it all in everlasting Darkness. It grew. It faded. It was and always would be.
Her sisters were no different, feeling the power of the First Flame simultaneously call out to them with promises of power and weakening them with its very nature.
"Nadalia? Alsana? Elana? Are you alright?" Erik asked cautiously, seeing the sister's fall into a stupor.
"Yes, we're… just taken aback by all the power we can feel," Alsana said, snapping out of her trance first. Her Fear helped in that regard.
"Comforting yet utterly terrifying," Nadalia agreed.
The group quickly headed out after that, carefully moving in a long single file line towards the Kiln with Erik at the helm.
"This is it," he whispered to himself, staring at the Fog Gates before him. Standing here, it was almost like a dream.
He, Erik Potts, a chef from Lindelt, had been chosen to light the First Flame and ascend to the ranks of the gods themselves. He would lead the world into a golden age, then ultimately be forced to suffer and watch helplessly as it all faded, and a new Cycle would rise anew.
The greatest of honors came with the greatest of pains.
Erik looked behind him at the long line of people, and could not help but smile. Each of them had wormed their way into his heart and life, and he could honestly not imagine ruling over a world where they did not live. He clenched his fists and felt his Fire Seed thrum with eager energy. He would see this through to the end, and give the world they deserved.
His gaze fell upon the Emerald Herald, and a smile crept up onto his face. His heart beat, and a part of him knew why. He then turned to face the Fog Gate and approached it. Time for this to end. And begin anew.
Placing a hand against the mist, he pushed and let it swallow him up. Behind him his warriors and comrades stepped forward to join him against whatever defenses Vendrick had concocted.
"Ah, so we meet again, child of Donovan. I'm not surprised, though. I knew you'd be the one to succeed where all others failed."
Erik stood paralyzed in shock, his comrades no better. Before them towered a massive skeletal woman clutching a scythe. Her skirt was made of bones and oozing black tar, and her face was more like a mask than an actual skull. She glared out at the Undead, and then turned her rage upon the three Sisters of Dark.
"Nashandra," Elana muttered darkly, conjuring up her glaive. Her siblings followed suit.
"No wonder Vendrick decided to hide in the Crypt! With a wife like that any sane man would spend his days away from home!" Vengarl shouted. Pure malice rolled off of Manus' Aspect of Want and everyone wisely moved away from the clearly suicidal man.
Erik's gaze was then drawn to a pair of white and gold armored figures lying at Nashandra's feet. Though their armor was dulled, it was clear they had been knights once.
Spotting them, Raime gave a cry. "Dominick! Wylla! No!"
"Ah, yes, these two," Nashandra said dismissively. One of them tried to move towards their blade but the Dark One's scythe was faster, and she decapitated them. They erupted into golden flames and reformed, panting in pain. Nashandra laughed.
"The Throne Defender and the Throne Watcher, two of Vendrick's knights chosen to stand guard over the Throne of Want. Originally, I had planned to let them fight the Monarch Candidate and then swoop in once the battle was over, but based on past evidence, they pair would be more likely to just step aside for Erik Potts."
The Child of Want's looked over the foes arranged before her. "So I decided to take care of them myself and await you here."
"How long did you wait?" Nadalia demanded.
"The moment I felt that explosion of power last night, I knew something would be coming soon. I made my way down here, slipped through Vendrick's seals thanks to a backdoor Aldia and I made long ago, and dealt with the duo as I waited."
She threw her head back and cackled. "And now all that waiting has paid off! Here you stand, with the keys to the First Flame itself!"
She raised her scythe. Everyone tensed, readying themselves for battle.
"Wait, my dear. Were you going to start the fun without me?"
A dark, booming voice rolled out over the ruined room they were in, everyone tensing in fear.
"Aldia," Erik and Vengarl hissed simultaneous. Inside of the chef, his souls roared and screamed at the arrival of the great evil.
Behind the Fog Gate Shanalotte felt a terrible chill run through her body as something oily bubbled up behind the white mist. In fact, before the non-combatant's shocked eyes, the white was swallowed up and supplanted by inky black. The Fog Gate was now more akin to a Smoke Gate.
As for the warriors, they could only stare in horror as a massive, vile beast pulled itself up from the pit behind the platform.
It resembled the skeletal dragon in his manor, but made of twisted, warped black roots and covered in dripping dark muck. Purple flames glittered in place of eyes, and the monstrous form of Duke Aldia, Scholar of the First Sin, pulled himself onto the platform behind Nashandra.
"Ah, Aldia," Nashandra said, shocking everyone when she turned to the massive pseudo-dragon with love and affection in her voice. Had her eyes been visible, there would have been hearts in them no doubt.
"My love, have you finally recovered?"
"I am strong enough to deal with vermin like this," Aldia assured her, sweeping his malefic gaze across the champions arrayed before him.
"Hold on, you and Aldia?" Nadalia gasped.
"Oh course! You thought I married Vendrick because I liked him? Hah! I needed his power, but that was it. Had Aldia been the one to inherit the powers of the Souls I would not have hesitated. But alas, it was the idiot who got all the power. Isn't that just pathetic?"
"Now, now, my darling. My older brother may have been a fool in every meaning of the word, but at least he had uses," Aldia chuckled. "Why, without his blind devotion to you, he would never have committed all those atrocities upon those Giants and gotten us the materials we needed to build the Throne!"
The two laughed and shared a loving nuzzle which caused everyone watching to try and hold down their bile. The pair of Throne Guardians tried to squirm away but Aldia pinned them in place with massive claws.
"So, what should we do, my love? We only need the cook to survive. All the others are expendable," Nashandra said, running a boney finger along the edge of her scythe.
"They will make excellent experiments. I wonder if I can replicate the lack of a head with others. And do they have to be Undead as well?" Vengarl shuddered as Aldia looked at the red knight.
"Or perhaps I might see if I can control how much Chaos is needed for a partial transformation?" Mytha shivered at the leer in the monstrous duke's eyes.
"Why not find out if it isn't just souls that can be transplanted from one person to another? Why not their Humanity? Would they retain their personality and become immortal if they could do such a thing?"
"Or perhaps we can find out if your sisters can be harvested for Humanity like what the people of Oolacile did to your Father! Now there's an interesting thought!"
"Nashandra! This man is evil! You would truly throw your lot in with him?!" Elana shouted. The Wrath of Manus grew horrified by the total lack of care her wayward younger sister showed.
"Why should I care? The Darksun has done us no favors, yet I know you've sided with him! You would rather keep this bleak and wretched world going than let a new order rise! Light and Dark, locked in an eternal battle? No thank you!" She spat a glob of Dark magic that sizzled away on the floor.
"Rekindling the First Flame is only a stopgap! If we truly want the Cycles to end, then we must put an end to this pathetic conflict! Neither Light nor Dark, instead a world of Shadows!"
"And who would rule over such a realm? You?" Erik scoffed. Under the eyes of several eldritch entities and more than a score of Undead, a simple chef stepped forward, drawing forth a helix sword from the sheath at his side and igniting golden flames in his left hand.
He pointed the Blade of Eleum Loyce at the duke and queen. "Neither of you are fit to rule over a kingdom, let alone an entire world!"
Hidden behind the two Dark clad beings a hut made of ash was starting to glow fainting, the course Throne within throbbing with golden energy.
Erik's voice began to grow louder with every syllable until it was ringing from the ceiling. Beyond the Smoke Gate the Undead heard him and bowed their heads in prayer towards the man they knew would be their savior.
And it wasn't just in the Kiln that people heard him speak.
Across Drangleic Erik's voice was carried over by the bonfires, where his words crackled and spit forth from the sparking embers. Images popped up, showing the brave chef facing down two of the vilest creatures imaginable.
In the Blue Cathedral hundreds of men and women crowded around the handful of bonfires they maintained, listening in rapturously as Erik spoke. Targey smiled as he listened and watched. Off to the side Gordin was cheering the Lindelt native on.
In a tumbled down town located in a mist wreathed forest a group of Lionkin sat and stared intently at their bonfire, while Manscorpion Tark bowed his head in respect towards the man who was challenging the monster who had ruined his wife and himself. In his chest his father and lover watched on in glee as well, eagerly urging on the chef who had captured their darling Shanalotte's heart.
Deep within the sandy ruins of the Brightstone Cove a Crow-woman cackled with mirth next to a Pardoner while a portly and armored Gyrm chugged fine ale from a cask. The pair had seen how the Darksun had treated the young chef, and were eager to witness his victory while the wheeling dealing merchant looked forward to the young human's battle against the one who had turned his own people against the Light and into the arms of a Fallen God.
And high up in a golden throne room a godling with snakes for legs stared intently at the scene playing out in the flames, kept company by a brass armored knightess.
"You claim that the conflict between Light and Dark will doom the world? Perhaps you are correct, but destroying it will bring no peace! It is up to everyone who lives in this world to strive for unity, to band together against hardship. Be they human, Giant, Lionkin, Crowkin, or Gyrm, we must all work together for survival and success. We are all ingredients in a massive stew called Life! Alone, they are bland. Together, they are delicious!"
While there was some amusement in regards to the young man's word choice, the sentiment was appreciated.
Aldia snorted at the chef's declaration. "Oh please. Humans are not worth the trouble. Better they be forced into subservience alongside all the other races of the world. That way they can be controlled and put to a good purpose."
"You don't even know what 'good' is, anymore!" Erik retorted, earning hearty cheers from his companions across the land. "All you know is selfishness and greed! You could never rule, for you do not know what it means to be a monarch!"
"And you do?" Nashandra scoffed.
Erik stared her in the eyes, unflinching.
"I do. To be a monarch means putting forth the effort to care for others and help them. To be a monarch means putting the needs of the kingdom and its people above your own. To put aside selfishness and pride when it means there is food and gold to go around for all."
Erik's voice was now booming across more than just Drangleic. Everyone Unhollowed Undead could hear the young man's voice in their mind, their Darksigns pulsing with joy and warmth for the first time in forever.
And in the temples dedicated to the gods across the world, from Catarina to Lanafir, Erik's voice supplanted that of the old, feeble gods and their priests. The faithful could only watch in awe as the candles, hearths, and torches lighting these places showed glimpses of the man they knew in their hearts would be their new master.
"A monarch is all about sacrifice! They must shoulder all the burdens, all the successes, all the failures. They are an icon to believe in, a symbol to aspire to, a legend to remind others of how to act. They do not exist for themselves, but for others."
Countless scribes and wannabe prophets scribbled down the words of the man in the flames. And in a distant, imposing palace in Lindelt, a father wept with joy at seeing his son after so long as he stared into the fires of the kitchen.
"And yet, for all their hardships and hard work, the monarch is never alone. For they have their people, and their advisors, and their friends, and their loved ones. Distance is not a problem when it comes to loyalty and love. The First Flame will be lit, but it will not be you who lights it! You who knows nothing of love or sacrifice shall never rule this world!"
Applause and wild cheers shook the world to its very core.
Unaware of it all, Erik continued to stare defiantly at the twisted pair.
"You honestly think you know what the world needs?" Nashandra sneered. "A mere human of barely thirty summers cannot possibly fathom the true depths of this wretched existence!"
"Now hold on a moment, my dear. Perhaps the Monarch Candidate is onto something," Aldia interrupted, shocking everyone. His lover turned to him in surprise.
"What?"
"His words of sacrifice and love resonated with me. It made me think." Aldia turned his misshapen dragon-like head to looking lovingly down at Nashandra.
"Nashandra, my dear, you love me, don't you?"
"Yes, Aldia! More than that weak husband of mine! More than anything else in the world! You are the only thing I could ever Want!" She exclaimed as she stared back at him.
"Wonderful." There was a note of tenderness in the deformed duke's booming voice as he spoke to the Child of Darkness beneath him.
"Then, would you please die for me?"
Before Nashandra had to chance to process his words, Aldia's head snapped down, slavering jaws wide. In a single bite he consumed the Daughter of Want and ate her whole. He then lashed out with his claws and dragged the two Throne Guardians into his maw as well, ignoring their screams.
He chewed. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then, he swallowed.
Stunned and terrified silence fell across the world. It was only when Alsanna let out a piercing scream of hate and sorrow that anyone was shaken from their stupor.
Before anyone had a chance to act, Aldia's body twitched and the Darkness coating him writhed obscenely, spreading across and sinking into the holes and wounds.
His appearance of a rotting carcass was changed, and soon he had glistening scales of obsidian that shone with a faint purple hue in the enchanted lights. Claws of Titanite wrapped in hellish purple flames pawed at the ground and tore huge gouges in the stone. Fangs of stained and rotted bone could be seen in a maw that was closer to an abyss than anything else. A tail lined with spikes that oozed tar-like poison lashed the air, sending droplets of the noxious concoction flying.
And the eyes. Oh, the eye! Orbs of solid purple flames and raw, undiluted madness. They surveyed everything with neither love, nor arrogance, rather they saw all as merely beneath them. All was equal in their worthlessness before true power.
"Yes, you were right, young Erik Potts! Love and Unity really are all that is needed to gain power in this world!" Aldia laughed at the expressions of terror on their faces.
"And now I shall honor my dearly departed beloved by remaking the world into a glorious utopia!" He reared up, his draconic form breaking through the walls and ceiling of the arena.
"Come, Monarch Candidate! Let us see whose 'love' is stronger!"
