The False Maiden

"Let my hand rest upon you, but for a moment," said Melina.

She placed her hands upon the Tarnished's palm. He eased to the ground as she induced sleep. There was no need for him to be awake for what came next.

They stood at the end of the world. Or at least one vision of it. Melina gazed down from the edge of the Kiln of the First Flame. Beyond was an endless tundra. A blizzard blanketed the ground below the mountain. Did any souls roam this forsaken lands, some lost survivors of the giants? The Erdtree towered to the south, but it did not command this realm in the same way it ruled the Land Between.

The flame danced below Melina, as if in anticipation of what came next. The heat reached her, a rare thing in her current state. The flame seemed to know that its keeper was dead, freed of his eternal watch. The fire giant's corpse decayed with alarming speed on the mountainside, rushing to join its comrades in death. Another great being felled by the Tarnished. It would not be the last.

She looked to her charge. Melina thought of their first meeting. The Tarnished face down in a puddle, cut down by a ghoul, but desperately clasped to the last fragment of grace. Torrent had chosen him. He was always a good judge of character. Melina had hesitated. There was too much at stake to make a hasty decision. In hindsight, her steed saw true from the start.

The Tarnished looked serene in his sleep. It was a rare sight. He was prone to going days on end without rest, only finding a place to camp when exhaustion left no alternative. His nights were fitful, full of tension, weapon nearby, ready to return to the waking world at any moment. Melina could only recall a mere handful of times when the Tarnished found a peaceful place to take his rest. It was in these overdue moments of repose that she saw his guard drop.

Melina no longer needed sleep. She was tethered to her charge in many respects, but she could roam a distance from him. She would often take the opportunity to survey the Lands Between, to take stock of its inhabitants and landscape. There were moments of beauty in the journey. The sight of the ocean spray above below the fog tipped cliffs of Limgrave. The hidden sky of Noskatella, dappled with stars never seen before. The roar of thunder on the Altus Plateau as the sky wept with lightning. In spite of the Shattering, the world had not ended. It carried on, though Melina knew it was in a moment of painful transition. The birth of the new threatened the old, which had unleashed a tide of stagnation that threatened to lock the Lands Between in permanent disrepair. The Tarnished was Melina's key to fix this malaise.

He was a strange fellow, still able to surprise her even after all this time. Melina needed a Tarnished who had the power and resolve to become the new Elden Lord. She was not preoccupied with the qualities that such an individual would bring to their new role. As the road stretched on and her time along the Tarnished grew, she found herself pondering what he would be like more and more. Her state of being gave her time for endless reflection.

He was quiet, even with her. He let her speak whenever she felt the echoes of grace in the world, taking in her words with a passive expression. At first, she assumed he was merely humoring her, but the Tarnished seemed to enjoy these moments over time. Melina began to cherish them. They had a way of strengthening her own connection to the mission. There was a fear in her, a fear that she was little more than a puppet on someone else's string. For a long time, it mattered little whether or not she wished to carry out her mother's desires. She was bound to the path. Speaking to the Tarnished about the world that was and the world that could be eased her own doubts.

The Tarnished was unpredictable in his relationships. He could be ruthlessly pragmatic, using others solely to further his ascension to the throne. Melina witnessed this with his manipulations within both the Volcano Manor and with Fia, the Grave Companion. He listened to the words of Gideon Ofnir, Seluvis and Sellen, but felt no loyalty to them. She found him in the cloth of a confessor of the Golden Order and he wielded their incantations, but he deployed supposedly heretical magics just as easily and he viewed their acolytes as an obstacle to be overcome rather than a code to follow. He seldom relied on guile alone, but others mistook his blunt nature for simplicity. She saw again and again the way that his cold eyes took in allies and adversaries both, weighing them on some invisible scale.

He was a brutal combatant, endlessly aggressive in his assaults. The Tarnished fought like a man freed from the fear of death, hacking his way through hordes of foes. He rarely gave any quarter once a battle commenced, unsatisfied until every last enemy was cut down. Time and time again, Melina watched as he encountered wrathful demigods, wretched beasts and abominations from beyond mortal knowledge and emerged bloodied but unbroken. They had fought alongside one another against Morgott. Melina was surprised at the intensity of the battle, at the sheer force he unleashed as she was beside him. Her blood could not truly run hot anymore, but his vitality seemed to touch her all the same.

Yet, he could also be the most devoted of friends. His protection of Boc, Zoraya, Millicent, Nepheli, Alexander, Boggart, and Jar Bairn was unceasing. It was not a mere matter of their usefulness to him. He appeared to defend them solely out of unyielding principle. Many nights the Tarnished sat around the fire, listening to Boc's stories. He risked his own life to convince Boc that he was valued, that he did not need to risk rebirth in Raya Lucaria. Surely, a man interested only in power would not take such steps.

Melina had feared for the Tarnished's soul when he aided the maiden, Hyetta, who followed the glimmer of the Flame of Frenzy. He had followed her into the forsaken chambers below the capital, where the madness was locked away. But, the Tarnished had turned from the chaos. He struck down Shabriri in his latest form, making a mockery of the man once known as Yura. Melina now understood that his interest in Hyetta was not out of a desire for that type of power, but one of concern.

His dalliance with Ranni and her cadre were perhaps the most interesting development on their journey. Melina thought the start of it to be another example of his mercenary inclinations or a gesture of assistance to poor Rogier, beholden to powers beyond his knowledge. The Tarnished remained in service to the witch, however, and became her most effective ally. He brought the witch to the end of her path, to the ascension she so desired. Melina was not sure if he would follow through with Ranni's plan. There was something familiar about the witch. Melina never drew too close to her, aware that she was a being able to sense Melina's presence.

Melina sighed and looked away from the Tarnished, back to the flame. It was past the time for such reminiscing. It was time to commit a cardinal sin.

She held her hands aloft to the flame. It answered the call, surging upward from the Kiln, eager to be free. A sliver of flame drifted towards her. It met her hands, the warmth running up her arms, before morphing into a pain that ate at her being. She was beyond such things. Melina closed her hands, bring the flame in tight, letting it meet her entire being.

"O' Erdtree, you shall burn. Burn for the sake of your new lord."

She spread her arms. The flame took to the tree as its golden boughs became entwined with flames. Fire crept along the branches. It did not consume the tree, but mingled with it, the golden light of grace wrestling with the fire. It would take one more step to gain true entry.

There was a growing faintness to her being. The fire was consuming her. She turned back to the Tarnished.

"Thank you. For guiding me here."

He did not stir in his sleep. It mattered not. She knew he would protest. Melina was born for this purpose, but in her service to the Tarnished she reclaimed her own will. She was a wish, cast out into a broken land, set to bring it right. Her mother's plan was noble, but through her own power she grasped the necessity of remaking the Lands Between. The Tarnished could change the world if he took the Throne. Her existence was a necessary sacrifice for that.

She lifted her head to the sky, her arm raised above. The flames followed her sight, creating a blazing pillar that severed space itself.

"The one who walks alongside the flame, shall one day meet the Road of Destined Death."

She willed the last bit of her essence into him. A silent farewell to Torrent, a true friend. The Tarnished was not at the end of his journey. There were more foes to be felled, challenges overcome. But, he would need to do it without her. He was her wish now. Melina smiled as the flames took the last of her.

"Good-bye."