Thanks for reading and to deityoftheuniverse, Malachia Demon and bragi1396 for the reviews! I hope the pacing so far is going a bit faster than before, but it feels slow, let me know!
I hope you like the chapter!
To protect his lady from all dangers and ensure she fulfills her sacred duties.
For a knight of Carim, no other purpose in life exists. It is a holy mission, entrusted only to the most noble and skilled of men.
A knight with no lady is an incomplete whole. Such a sight is unnatural. Failing one's lady is the greatest of sins. There is no atonement for this transgression, no forgiveness for those who betray their ladies' trust.
Cowards and weaklings of this ilk shall not call Carim their home. Only with death can these failed knights repent for their incompetence; but the women they failed cannot be brought back to life, and so shall their honor as men and knights remain forever lost.
A failed knight's death is no sacrifice, nor is it a punishment. It is merely the price they must pay for their sins.
The revolting sin of them being alive while their ladies are not.
"You…"
She had always pitied the knights of her homeland, but none she had pitied as much as herself.
"You are a sacred lady of Carim."
Once, she had been.
Except she had not.
There had been nothing sacred about her. There was nothing sacred about the women of Carim, so readily burdened with such lofty expectations and titles from birth.
"I am but a common woman."
A knightess.
"All of Carim's women are sacred. You descend from the goddesses, you inherited their holy mission and essence. Us men are descendants of the goddesses' olden warriors. As such, we are your servants. It is our duty to protect you; dying in your name is our greatest honor, for warriors and soldiers are common and replaceable, but goddesses are not. Goddesses and their heiresses are unique -"
"Some cruel and wicked world this is" she interrupted the man, her voice bitter and dull, "if it allows someone like myself to be considered the heiress of a goddess."
"Tis' a cruel and senseless world indeed," the man agreed mockingly, "but is this not the way of Carim? Are these notions not the base of all its traditions, myths and legends?"
"I care not about Carim, its people or their beliefs." Anger was all she could feel. It leaked from her like blood from a festered wound. "To hell with them all."
"Such hatred you harbor for the place you once called home." The man, for once, spoke without a condescending undertone. Free of his derision, he sounded like a completely different person. Softly, with compassion and understanding, his soul mingled with hers, as if engulfing her in an embrace. "It is a hatred that closely resembles my own, one that I understand well. Carim failed me too, perhaps not in the same manner it failed you, but I am no stranger to this resentment that so fiercely burns within you. What fuels it, I wonder? Would you share your memories with me, knightess ?"
It was not a petition, for no sooner was the man finished with his question than he was already peeking at the core of her soul. She tried to block his intrusive gaze, but her power and strength were meaningless amidst Fina's darkness.
The knightess quivered in frustration and despair.
She could not remember when she had last felt so exposed, so vulnerable. It was as if a cruel crowd of living humans had captured her and had deprived her of her armor in a public market, so that everyone could mock and laugh at the hideous creature that lay underneath the brass plates.
"Your fate as a knight's lady, your destiny as one of Carim's holy women… you despised it, you turned your back on it, rebelled against it, for sucht fate was a gilded cage you wished not for yourself. A knight, your destined knight. He too longed to be free of you; to him, you were a deadweight, an eternal chain. A knight must be free to do his will in the world as he sees fit, he used to say , we are warriors, not the glorified nursemaids of defenseless wenches . You hated him, and he hated you too, but amidst your hatred for each other, your desire to be free brought you together. Train me, then, you said to him, so I can fend for myself and we can both be free of each other. Instruct me in the way of the sword and the art of battle, so a defenseless wench and a burden to you I no longer be. And he agreed. Lords, he did."
The man laughed. The knightess, exhausted from both effort and shame, tried to block him from her memories but failed.
Fina's treacherous lap dog, unconcerned and uncaring, continued with his intrusion within the deepest ends of her heart.
"How was your knight punished when this whole charade came to light?" The man inquired. "How loud did he scream as he was hanged, drowned and quartered like a pig before the cheering crowd?"
"He was free of sin." The knightess replied hurriedly, desperate to escape the memories of spilled blood and exposed entrails. "He did nothing wrong. He did not fill my head with sinful ideas. He did not manipulate my heart with poisonous scenarios. All that he did was to instruct me in the way of the sword. He did so because I asked. He did so that we could be free. Free of each other, free of Carim."
A pardoner dug a sharp dagger in her knight's chest and cut it open. With his bare hands, the pardoner ripped out her knight's beating heart and threw it at the howling crowd, like a hunter feeding his savage pack of hounds.
She had been forced to watch.
Her life had been spared.
A lady cannot be blamed for the actions of her wayward knight. It is not in her nature to be deceptive and treacherous. Brothers and sisters of Carim, I beg of you to forgive her, for she knew not what she was doing.
Such had been the pardoner's verdict, and once it had been declared, all ears had turned deaf to her claims.
"He did nothing wrong. This was my decision. This was my choice."
She had screamed and begged for mercy until her throat bled, but her pleas had passed unheard by the pardoners and the crowd.
"All that we ever wanted," the knightess said limply, her sense of self starting to become one with Fina's darkness, "was to be free."
"And by doing so, you got an innocent man killed. All that went wrong was because of you."
The finality of the man's judgment struck the knightess like a crushing mace. He offered her no understanding, no sympathy, only an ultimate sentence, just like the pardoners of Carim had done.
"No."
"It is. Had you acted as it was expected from you, had you not proposed such heretic notions to your knight in the first place, he wouldn't have sinned. He wouldn't have betrayed his duty. He would still live; he'd be by your side as your fateful guardian and companion. This is how it was meant to be, but you opposed your destiny, and by doing so, you killed your knight. He died because of you"
"No."
Her pathetic reply was no match for the man's ruthless verdict. The knightess quivered under him.
She was no longer trapped amidst Fina's dark soul. Her mind had traveled back to Carim.
Pardoners surrounded her. They pointed their merciless and condemning fingers at her.
"It was all your fault. "
"Lord Gwyndolin." She had nowhere to run, she had no body to escape to. She was trapped in an endless darkness, with no companion other than her own guilt and Fina's knight. It was a hell of her own making, the punishment she deserved for her past sins.
"Lord Gwyndolin." Only the name of her god remained, like a small glint of light shining in the abyss. "Lord Gwyndolin."
"Is that the reason you so sheepishly serve that misshapen and failed god?" The man asked. "Is being their meek and loyal servant your self-imposed penance for your past actions? Do you show to them the compliance you did not show to your knight?"
Her knight's corpse had been hung in a lone tree outside Carim. He had received no burial, for that was a luxury exclusive to true knights. The crows had feasted on his flesh, his bones had nourished the earth, his name had been forgotten, even by her.
As for her, she had been sentenced to a life of solitude as a praying maiden in some small convent. Though free of sin, she had not been free of guilt and suspicion. Had she continued to prove to be unruly beyond redemption, she would have been dealt with too, quietly and discreetly.
"Better to throw away a bad apple than let it stay in the barrel and infect the whole harvest." The man whispered to her. "In Carim, there is no loss in the death of those who have failed to fulfill their purpose in life. If a knight without a lady is worthless, then a lady without a knight is no different. Though she may live and remain free of punishment, her life has come to an end, even without death. Should her knight be killed in battle, or should he perish because of a disease, no other man shall take his place as her new knight. Without a knight, a lady cannot carry on with her journey. She shall live the rest of her days peacefully within the safe walls of a convent, offering daily prayers so that her sisters do not share the same fate as her. And yet, you rebelled against it too… not only are you an erratic wench that seduced her knight into teaching you the ways of the sword, you are a dangerous heretic that defied the sentence thrusted upon you by the wise pardoners of Carim."
"I did not seduce, I did not trick! My knight… he agreed. He too resented his fate as my eternal guardian. He agreed… It was his choice. Our agreement...our freedom."
"You are rotten. You are a failure. Blame not Carim for following its traditions! Blame not the pardoners for fulfilling their duties! If you must blame someone, blame yourself."
The man's voice became a pardoner's.
"Your knight's murderer is no one but yourself."
The knightess screamed.
Oscar released the breath trapped in his throat.
He lived.
Fina had not taken their lives, not yet.
The realization felt unreal and mocking, as if the goddess was playing with him and Solaire's minds, making them believe they were safe only to brutally end their existence the moment after.
Solaire held Oscar close to him. He raised his round shield above them firmly, the only true line of defense they had against Fina. Oscar could feel Solaire's racing heartbeat through his chainmail.
Yet, despite his evident fear, Solaire refused to let go of Oscar. He clung to him as if his life depended on it, shielding him with his body as much as he did with his shield.
"Solaire." Oscar uttered without intending to. His mind was blank, his body unresponsive and numb, as if time had frozen around them, trapping them forever in the prelude of their deaths.
Reality only retook its course after Fina cried in agony and filled Anor Londo with her repulsive voice. The blaring sound of her trotting came to an abrupt halt and was followed by an earthquake that caused Solaire to lose his balance. He fell over Oscar and dragged him to the floor with him.
His round shield escaped from his hand and rolled down the marble stairs. The quaking ground gave Solaire no chance to retrieve it, and by the time the floor became firm again, the shield was out of reach.
Solaire had no time to grieve the loss of his equipment, just like Oscar had no time to continue to be in awe of the fact they were still alive.
"Run away!" Exclaimed a voice Oscar knew.
His eyes darted at the voice's owner.
A man clad in dark robes; he stood on top of the unconscious Fina's head. With one hand, he clung to his rapier, embedded with a dark aura. He further dug it into Fina until the blade had pierced the dense and liquid skin entirely, leaving only the hilt exposed.
Fina grunted like a wounded beast, but she remained stunned by the rapier now stuck in her head, next to the coiled sword of the bonfire.
"Pardoner." Oscar muttered in disbelief. Together with Solaire, he stared at Oswald, dumbfounded and with their mouths agape as if they were witnessing Sir Arotias rising from his grave to fight by their side.
"Pardoner Oswald." Solaire stuttered as he clumsily got back on his feet.
"Run back to the church, you fools!" Oswald urged coldly. "Hurry!"
The pardoner let go of his rapier and jumped off Fina's head. He tried to make his way to Oscar and Solaire, but his legs betrayed him as soon as his feet touched the floor. He lost his balance and fell flat on his chest. Despite his attempts, he didn't stand up again.
Knowing Solaire's first instinct would be to rescue Oswald, Oscar sprung back to his feet and held Solaire by the wrist before he could dart off in the pardoner's direction. He succeeded, if only barely, but Oscar soon discovered his intervention had not been necessary, for Tarkus had stopped Solaire first by blocking his way with an arm.
"Do as he told you!" He ordered before quickly entrusting the knightess' body to Solaire. "I'll take care of him! You two must go! Now!"
If Tarkus' imposing command had not been enough to make them comply, the rumbling echo of Fina's voice as she started to wake up quelled any desire Oscar and Solaire had of contradicting Tarkus.
Together, they turned on their heels and started running.
The way towards the church's entrance was short, but for Oscar, it felt eternal.
Amidst his confusion and horror of the monster that was awakening behind his back, Oscar not once forgot about Solaire, nor he lost him from his sight.
He didn't feel free to breathe again until Solaire and the knightess had made it through the church's entrance. A second later, he too found himself inside the obscure church, but he wasn't as naive as to think they were safe.
He turned around and faced the church's doorway. Tarkus was nowhere to be seen, and Fina's growls grew stronger and fiercer by the second. Sweat soaked Oscar's face, but his skin and blood felt cold, as if his body was trapped in a shiver that would never pass.
The only reason he managed to overcome the dread and fear festering inside him was Solaire and the unconscious knightess. He had to protect them, he had to be their guide in that moment of hopelessness.
For them, he had to be brave.
He owed them that much.
He looked around the place, his mind struggling to keep up with what he saw. Eventually, his thoughts and sight synchronized, allowing Oscar to discover what he was meant to do next.
"The doors." He whispered to himself first before turning his attention to Solaire and repeating the words out loud. "The doors… we have to close them!"
Solaire quickly reacted to his call. Swiftly but gently, he laid down the knightess' body on the floor, leaning her back against the wall. Then, he hurried to Oscar's side.
"But Tarkus and Oswald-"
"We'll leave the doors open just enough for them to cross. Once they are through, we'll close it completely before that abomination can make its way in here!" Oscar replied as he ran towards the mechanism that, he assumed, gave control to the entrance's doors. Solaire followed right behind him.
Much to Oscar's respite, his suppositions about the lever and the mechanism had been correct. With Solaire's help, he pushed the lever forward with all his strength. The mechanism resisted at first, the rust and tear in its gears further hindering an already difficult process.
Oscar's arms soon started to tremble, his muscles long pushed beyond their limit.
Had it not been for Solaire…
The thought was too awful and too real for him to ponder on it for long.
The lower edges of the closing doors scarred the floor with metallic slashes, producing an ear-splitting creak as they slid against the flat marble. They moved slowly, even with Oscar's and Solaire's efforts combined.
How they would succeed in closing them quickly once Tarkus and Oswald were inside the church Oscar did not know. What he knew was that it would be impossible for him and Solaire to outspeed Fina's claws and leaking darkness.
Enough! These defeating thoughts will gain me nothing! Focus on the now! Deal with your present and leave possibilities in the future, where they belong.
His inner voice, for once, offered him good advice. And Oscar, for once, followed it.
"Get ready to fight, Solaire." He spoke with an authority and confidence he had almost forgotten he was capable of.
Though not entirely comfortable playing the role to leader for Solaire, Oscar hung onto the bravery surging within him before it escaped him. It was wavering and fleeting, but it was real. At least, he had to believe so himself. "Once Tarkus and Oswald cross the entrance, we'll attack Fina from here and keep her at bay while Tarkus closes the doors for good. I'll use the coiled sword's fire and you'll use your miracles. Together, we'll buy him as much time as he needs."
Solaire did not answer. Instead, he looked at Oscar in shock, as if he had told him they were embarking on a suicide mission with no chances of success.
Perhaps, Oscar thought, he had done exactly so.
"No matter what happens, I'll be by your side." He put a hand on Solaire's shoulder, pressing his pauldron tightly, as if that way he could infuse his friend with the sentiment his words failed to convey. "Let us fight together, brother."
Solaiere held Oscar's forearm.
"Wherever you go, I'll follow." He said after a short silence.
Having much he wanted to say, but having no time to say it, Oscar nodded. With Solaire by his side, he ran to his rightful post in front of the church's doors. He unsheathed the coiled sword; burning embers rained from the burnt and twisted blade, crisping away into thin air before they could touch the floor.
In one hand, Solaire wielded his straight sword, the one that had formerly belonged to Oscar, and held his talisman in the other. Oscar worried, and prayed that Solaire could compensate for the loss of his shield with his miracles.
It was in that instant that he realized his shield was lost too.
His heart dropped to his feet at the revelation. During his hurried escape from Fina, he had forgotten to pick up his crest shield. The loss of his trusted equipment, and how easily prevented it could have been, stung Oscar deeply.
Swallowing his regrets, Oscar held the coiled sword's hilt with both hands. Its warmth was comforting and reassuring, as was Solaire's presence.
Contained golden energy glowed like a small sun in Solaire's hand and talisman. Along with the fiery shine of the coiled sword, it illuminated the dark hallway of the church.
In the distance, Tarkus appeared at last. He carried Oswald in his arms. The pardoner resembled more a corpse than a living man. Behind them, luring over them like a wave ready to crash into them, was Fina. Her shadow devoured Tarkus' frame, his black armor making him one with the goddess' darkness.
Be brave.
Barely, Tarkus crossed through the small space between the doors. Behind him, tailing him closer than his own shadow, came Fina's distorted and dark hand. She would have succeeded in catching Tarkus and Oswald had Solaire not repelled her hideous claw with a Lighting Spear.
Before she could recover from the attack, Oscar threw a surge of fire at her.
For the sake of those you hold dear, be brave.
The lighting… it hurts… Eingyi…. Queelag.
It was them. Elite knights.
Fire! No, not more! Please! My beauty, my worth!
They held me down as the cleric cut off my tongue.
Kirk, where are you? My knight, my knight!
It was the Astorans! They ravaged my lady and left her body to rot in the wilderness!
They mocked me after my legs were severed. They laughed at my lack of voice.
Father, wilt this be the day when thou look upon me without shame?
I am not a demon. I am not a monster. I am a goddess. Please, do not look away.
Mother…
It was just a second. She escaped my sight for just a second. It took one second for me to lose her forever.
I beg of you, do not leave me.
Brother, why hast you forsaken me?
"Lord Gwyndolin!"
The chorus drowned her voice. The chanting of random thoughts knew no end. Adrift as she was in that sea of dark souls, her thoughts were starting to lose their definition. Against her will, the knightess found herself speaking of memories that did not belong to her; she sang about injustices and pain she had not experienced.
And when she did, they felt real. The lines between herself and that of the other souls were blurry. Suddenly, in her worst moments of weakness, her mind became one with Fina's, the firekeepers', the man from Carim's and even Gwyndolin's, and in those moments, she became but another voice in the chorus.
Curse Carim! Curse this rotten and godforsaken world!
Surrendering to the latent thoughts she had never been allowed to act upon, giving in to the animal pleasure of unleashing her fury without restraint; it was a sweet temptation that was stronger than her will.
I'm tired of this life I've led. Failed lady of Carim, heretic harlot that poisoned her knight's mind, eternal servant of a pariah god in a desolated city of illusions and lies. Was this the reason I was born? Was playing the fool in this sham of a life my fate all along?
"Your life is not a sham. You are not a failure."
The man of Carim.
Fina's lap dog.
Of all the people, it was him who was saving her.
"That is what this cruel and sick world made you believe, but it is wrong. The world judged us, it punished us without reason. The world killed those we loved most. The world repaid our kindness with abandonment and rejection. The world treated us like monsters. The world was deaf to our suffering. What do we owe to a world so cruel? We owe it nothing. No world that makes those who live in it regret being born should be allowed to exist. Join us, knightess. Let go of everything and join us. Join your sisters, join your fellow Carim knight, join your god. All of us are here, waiting for you with open arms. It is alright, knightess of Carim. Just…"
The voice of the man of Carim changed and became Gwyndolin's.
"Let go."
"My Lord."
The knightess gave up her fight. A peace like she had not felt before engulfed her being, and then she became unraveled.
"She is retreating!"
Oscar had finally lost his mind. At last, he had gone Hollow, consumed by his horror for the corrupted Fina.
"Don't drop your guard! Keep her at bay! Whatever you do, do not let her profane the church!"
The illusion too had lost its fake and fickle mind. Oswald saw no other reason for why it would humor Oscar in his delusions. Unsurprisingly, so did Solaire.
They still support each other blindly and without reason. They have not grown at all.
Disappointed, more so than he initially imagined, Oswald tried to stand on his feet. Injured as he was, he would not lay around like an useless old man and leave the Astorans and the illusion in charge of the situation.
You are all so immature, so dreadfully afraid… and not without reason.
He thought without bitterness.
Oscar and Solaire, foolish and reckless as they were, could not be shamed for the horror they so obviously held for Fina's corrupted form.
Oswald too had known what true terror was when he, defenseless in the ilussion's arms, had stared at the monstrosity chasing after them like a feral, colossal animal.
Those were feelings and truths Oswald would never confess or express out loud. As a pardoner and an experienced swordsman, it was both his duty and responsibility to hide his fears and guide the others.
Trembling and with his breath wheezing in his throat, Oswald found his balance and took a step forward. When his sole touched the floor, he collapsed.
His soul, mind and will remained strong, but his injured body did not. The broken ring in his finger had saved his life from the sinner's devious trap, but the damage and pain lingered, as latent and vivid as the beating of his heart.
Huffing and bearing his teeth, Oswald made a second attempt to walk. The toll of his efforts were paid by his injuries. The collective pain of his wounds ignited all at once, causing him to scream as he once again plummeted to the floor.
NO!
Oswald stopped his fall with his hands. He stood there, kneeling and ignored by everyone, wallowing in his fury and pain while Oscar, Solaire and the illusion went on with their futile attempts of closing the stuck doors of the entrance.
From that angle, Oswald could see that Oscar had been right after all.
Fina had fled.
It was a small relief, too small for it to quell Oswald's frustration with himself.
So what if your legs are burned? So what if your bones are broken? So what if breathing feels like the touch of dozens of knives? You are not the one who's suffering the most. The pain of your body is nothing compared with the agony of those maidens.
Oswald caught the glance of a limp and armored body with the corner of his eyes.
A fire keeper.
Gwyndlin's knightess.
Fina had taken her soul too.
I have a duty.
Clenching his teeth and forbidding himself from uttering a sound, Oswald stood up.
Until I see it fulfilled, I shall not die.
It was no longer a mantra he repeated to remind himself of his purpose. It was a silent promise he made to the firekeepers that murderous sinner had slain.
"Knights?"
The innocent tone of the voice juxtaposed with how deep it was. Startled, Oswald looked over his shoulder. Amidst the darkness, an enormous silhouette manifested from the other side of the hallway.
As it came closer, it took the clear form of a masked giant.
"Has the sun risen again outside, or is it still nighty night?" the giant asked, like a child who had just woken up from his afternoon nap.
"Help us, blacksmith!" The illusion urged. "Quickly, before she returns!"
The giant blacksmith's reply was an energetic roar. His eagerness to help, though praiseworthy and useful, also came close to condemning Oswald to rather undignified demise, and it was only because of a miracle the blacksmith didn't squash him as he passed running next to him.
"Damn fool!" Oswald exclaimed, but the giant remained ignorant of the accident he had almost caused. All his attention was focused on closing the church's entrance once and for all.
The blacksmith's muscles bulged in his arms and forearms, to the point it seemed his skin would tear open under the pressure. The loud screeching of metal sent shivers down Oswald's spine and made his skin crawl. Slowly, the stuck doors succumbed to the blacksmith's power and closed with a boom that could be heard across all Anor Londo.
The door's mechanism broke down and came apart in a shower of rusted gears. Thankfully, Oscar, Solaire and the illusion had used the small grain of common sense they had in their brains and had cleared away from the mechanism before it exploded.
"Door is closed." The blacksmith announced calmly. Oswald wondered whether the giant was particularly stoic and resilient or he was genuinely unaware of how grave their situation was.
The latter option was the grimmest, and therefore, the most plausible.
Soon, Oswald discovered he was right.
"Safe we are. Relax we may, even if there's no light."
"Her retreat is merely momentary. Do you really think that vain and cruel goddess would be defeated so easily, let alone that she would run away from us?"
Oswald's voice rang above the giant's. All eyes fell on him at the same moment, as if they had suddenly remembered he was there, still alive. Oswald frowned and, after hiding his indignation, he walked towards the group with a faltering and slow gait.
Each step was a challenge, but he refused to allow the Astorans, the illusion and the giant to witness his weakness.
"Pardoner Oswald."
Solaire approached him fast. Oswald didn't have the strength or the opportunity to force him to stay back, and before he knew it, he found himself burdened with Solaire's hands on his shoulders.
"You… you are alive."
Unable to endure the additional weight, Oswald's knees gave in, but Solaire helped stand before he could fall.
"You are hurt." Solaire said, stupidly and worried. "Oscar, come here! Pardoner Oswald needs our help! Do not worry, you are going to be alright, pardoner."
"I believe I have told you before," Oswald hissed as he pushed Solare away from him with the little strength he could gather. Solaire did back away, but more as a reaction to Oswald's anger than Oswald succeeding in pushing him, "that I have no need of your coddling, Solaire. Old as I may be, I'm stronger than any other person in this room. Waste not your sentimentality on me! Save your energy for what's to come! The same goes for you, Oscar. Wipe those concerned scowls off your faces and keep your minds focused on the matter at hand!"
"We saw you die." Oscar replied in disbelief, completely disregarding Oswald's words.
"You saw me fall. Not once did you witness my death."
"But–"
"Oh, how Astorans love to waste time pondering on the impossible and the irrelevant! How about you leave your useless questions for a time when our lives are not in danger?"
Oscar's expression changed into one of anger. Oswald smiled, amused. No doubt the knight was no longer so relieved about his return. As for Solaire, he was not so easily provoked, and he continued to assist Oswald on staying on his feet by gently holding his arm.
What am I ever going to do with you, foolish knights of kind hearts?
Reluctantly, Oswald accepted the help, if only because he had neither the energy nor the time to argue with a headstrong dolt like Solaire.
"Fina… that monstrous abomination." Oswald continued, a drop of sweat streaming down his forehead and mingling with his eyebrow. "I know not what scared her away or what she could be planning, but if there's one thing certain is that she will return. And when she does, her only goal will be to kill us all."
His claims were harsh, but they were also true. Oscar and Solaire fell silent, their fear exuding from them like them like the scent of a cornered prey.
"Perhaps what this gentle and clumsy blacksmith suggested was more pertinent than I first thought." Oswald said in an attempt to inspire some hope in the Astorans' hearts and his own. "In this short time we have, we must rest and prepare for her return. Recover your strength, heal your wounds, whet your swords and steel your hearts for what's to come. We have a duty, all three of us, and we shall see it fulfilled no matter what."
"You have no authority in this place, pardoner."
With its steps echoing in the hallway, the illusion approached them. His imposing figure and tense voice alarmed Oswald of how dangerous of a threat that shadow could prove to be.
"The role of leader shall not fall upon you. There is a limit for my indulgence. If you truly are wise, you will not test your luck with me, for I can end your life as easily as I saved it."
"Impressive! I did not know such powerful words could come from an empty shadow." Oswald sneered at the illusion, but his derisive smile almost cracked at the memory of the knight of Berenike that it had once been.
This thing is not him. Tarkus is gone…the 'man' before me is nothing but one of Gwyndolin's phantoms.
Tarkus, or better said, the illusion shaped in his likeness, gave no reply to Oswald. His silence proved to be more effective than any retort or insult, and soon Oswald regretted his behavior. There was nothing to be gained from provoking an illusion, and continuing to do so would be a waste of time.
"Well then, what is your plan, knight of Berenike?" Oswald asked with feign humbleness. "State your orders and we shall follow them."
"You must be ready to die."
The illusion stated, not to Oswald, but to Oscar and Solaire. Ignoring Oswald, he knelt in one knee so that he could look at the two Astorans in the face.
"Do you understand? Death in our battle against Fina is not a probability, it is a certainty, that's why you must be prepared to die. But do not forget you are Undead; the accursed sign branded in your chests will guarantee your revival as long as your will to live remains strong. Even if you perish, even if you feel you have been defeated, do not give up hope, my fellow knights. Death for the Undead is not the end. Remember this, Solaire the Chosen Undead and Oscar the elite knight of Astora… do it and you will become more powerful than that wrathful goddess that's sunk the city of gods in darkness."
Tarkus.
Gwyndolin had become incredibly powerful, more than Oswald had fathomed. They had honed their talent to the point where even he was fooled by their illusions.
Much to his chagrin, Oswald had to admit that what the illusion had said was good advice.
He could only hope Oscar and Solaire would listen to it and act upon it. If not for their sake, then for that of the fire keepers Fina had enslaved.
His soul, the one remnant of his original self, quivered inside his armor.
I am alive.
He gave the Astorans a moment for themselves so they could ponder on his words. Then, he looked at the Knightess.
He was a soul without a body.
She, a body without a soul.
But you still live, and I know you continue to fight. Do not give up, my friend. Fight until the end, as you always have. We will free you from that monster. I know not if an ilussion's promise has any worth, but I offer it to you still.
He stared at his fallen comrade. The Knightess, he knew, had not given up.
So neither will I.
His nonexistent heart filled with hope.
For the first time in ages, Tarkus felt alive.