What is it that Dragon cultists actually want?

"Power. Not in the simple way like the Iron King. They want to lose themselves in violence. They want to detach from the mortal world like the dragons, but doing so is terribly difficult. The easiest way to approach it is to practice instinctual action. The easiest instinct for undead to build is killing and being killed.

There's no bloodlust. There's no malice. That would be counterproductive. There is only the fight. There is only the quest for the perfect strike."

I never did figure out how [Shanalotte] kept appearing in remote places.

"She is likely Aldia's most successful attempt at creating a dragon. Of course, it isn't like the girl can just grow wings and fly ahead of you. Like the dragons, she is – in some respects – outside of time itself."

[Shanalotte's feather] had properties similar to that of a Homeward Bone, though the how and why escape me.

"There are two aspects at play, though it's unclear whehter one has more impact. The first is that being one of her possessions, it is effectively a dragon artifact. The other is that it is connected to the bonfires. What bird do you think that feather comes from? Is it perhaps the one they build statues of in Heide?"

We came out of the elevator, and Mytha's jaw hits the floor. Almost literally. She had to catch her head after dropping it in surprise. Degenerate cousins of the dragons or not, wyverns aren't exactly common. Seeing that her son had bred dozens of them was almost too much for her. The castle in the distance wasn't bad either.

What was bad was that the ziplines clearly wouldn't hold Mytha, and the rope bridges were pretty scary. There was no room to slither at all, and she had to inch ahead like a worm. After the first one on the way to the bonfire, she had me hold her head and cross first every time, just in case they gave out under her weight.

Setting aside how cozy that was, it got awkward that one time when one of those weird, exploding mummies started chasing me.

Anyway, we had to walk through the whole place, carefully avoiding all the wyvern eggs. We saw every oversized reptile there, from the wyverns to the crystal lizards. While we enjoyed the sights of the flying wyverns and the golden, sunlit clouds, we took the time to talk about less serious things.

I learned a lot about the different types of drakes. I told her in turn about Drangleic's dragonriders. Did you ever see one– one that still had a mount, I mean. We called them wurms.

Big, ugly things. Built like pack animals but moved like large cats. They didn't have wings, of course. Walked on two legs and had stubby little arms. I don't think they could survive without humans. Must have all died out when their riders went hollow.

We did discuss her god a little bit. He's called Faraam in the north. Starting to spread beyond just the barbarian tribes and the remains of Eleum Loyce. That warrior cult is actually the main faith in that new kingdom far north of Carim. I believe it was… Lothric.

Well eventually, we crossed the final scary bridge and reached the base of the castle. I have no idea how Aldia managed to build something so clean using a workforce consisting entirely of hollows and cultists. Maybe it was before he and the King fell out. I didn't exactly think to ask about their construction schedule.

Now, we climbed up to the first level, and I almost ran right back down. There was that massive knight and a pair of dragon cultists. Except then the cultists bowed.

Mytha said, "Those are duel bows. As they are not raising their own weapons or moving into position, these must be judges. One of us must face the black knight alone."

So, the drakekeepers, right? They seem a little creepy. It's actually worse than you thought. Do their helms look a little familiar? Do you think they'd look right at home whittling?

Anyway, I said to Mytha, "Let me try the first one. Worst case, I come back at the bonfire."

She said, "I detest being treated as fragile, but that seems a reasonable course."

So I stepped up, and the drakekeeper is looming there with his ornate armor and shield and rune-carved sword. He was ready for whatever I could throw at him. I shot him in the head, then dropped my mosquete and drew both dragóns. Bang bang, he goes down.

I'll tell you now, armor is going to be less and less useful as time goes on. It was almost useless in the land of giants, but I think the King doubled down on it instead for some reason. With weapons like gonnes, more powerful magic, and bigger monsters starting to roam about, being quick on your feet is going to matter more than armor very soon.

Anyway, the rest of the journey upward was pretty boring. Even when the dragon cultists sent a few to fight, there's not really any defense to being shot in the head. You'd have to learn a whole new method of dodging.

There's not even anything interesting to say about the building. Aldia really did keep to his notion of not wasting effort on appearances. "It's a castle with dragon guys. Done." Of course, he doesn't talk like that at all. He'd phrase it like, "It is a grand bastion which lords o'er even the golden clouds of the Lord of Light, buoyed on the unchanging foundations of the very earth, as manifest in the–" well, you get the point.

It certainly fit his sense of drama walking up all those stairs. Now, while they were shallow, the slope was fortunately gentle enough for Mytha to brute force her way up. Giants – or hell, the King – would probably trip and fall down those stairs. They're just not made for anything but human-sized feet.

Well, we walked up the stairs and then went through the dramatic hallway. I wasn't keep on being trapped in a narrow area with more dragon cultists, but I figured that Mytha could hold them off. Then we came out the other end, and boom, dragon.

Mytha said something I never thought I'd hear out of her.

"Heresy! That wicked child!"

So, I imagine you know by now that the dragon at the top of Dragon Shrine was a fake. The Queen knew it. Hell, the cat knew it.

I mean, it was certainly a real dragon-shaped being. And it had strange powers I'd assume are dragon-like. But its not being an authentic dragon of course set off the dragon priestess standing over my shoulder.

Now, before she could blast it, it did that "ringing in your ears that you can understand for some reason" thing.

It said something like, "Mother of the lost sage who built this place… Stay your fury… Your understanding is welcomed here, in this dream of spirits passed…"

Well, she stamped her weird spear thing down and broke a floor tile, to establish dominance, I guess.

"Say your piece, false divinity," she said.

Well, the dragon quote-enquote said: "This being is an echo in bone and soul, incarnation of an identity long passed… This false-life is the impression of a true and ancient dragon, not restored to majesty but to blunt and brute power…

The echo in the artifacts here is truer still, but few are the vessels which do not overrun when confronted with the truth of the ancient dragons… Madness is often the price of enlightenment… These things, I can bestow upon you"

Then Mytha just…

"Is that all?"

And of course, I had to get a word in, so I said, "I'll pass on the madness, thanks."

We just kind of stood there for a while. Mytha and the dragon and me. I don't think the dragon was used to people turning it down. The wind blew all about that open platform we were on, at the top of the castle. And we just stood there. It was cold as shit. I tucked my fleshy hand away to stay warm.

Eventually, the dragon said, "The currents of life are strange… The curse of Want suffuses it… The greatest wisdom is born of perspective… Through the dragons, Man seeks eternity… Life flows ever to the sea… Rare is one who seeks to leave the current and seek mountain spring of birth…"

Then I interrupted and said, "Are you just inventing a new explanation because we ignored the first?"

Mytha added, "These words are as false as the preaching of 'archdrakes' which emerged from the Sanctum's ruin."

The dragon was on a roll now, and it wasn't stopping.

"This artifact grants perspective… Take it and walk the shore of life…"

It gave us the same as it gave you – Ashen Mist Hearts. They're actually fragments of… well… a dream, I guess. I hate when we get away from the hard sciences.

Bel sighs.

"Bartender! Something with Ash Lakewater!"

She cranes her neck up to Mytha.

"Darling, can you give a quick explanation without too much bad poetry? I think I died a little rattling off the dragon's lines."

"Yes dear, I'll try. It is as a pearl-"

"Poetry."

"It is a simile, dear. It is a normal part of speech. Oh! Sir bartender, if you don't mind, I would appreciate a cup of rice wine!

To the original matter, o Monarch – it is the smallest fragment of the world's creation, wrapped in echoes of past events. Those of strong spirit and emotion can fold away the outer layers and enter an echo of the past. Only, it is not quite an echo, is it?"

"Well said."

"Thank you, dear."

Well, the problem was the dragon didn't say anything else. It just looked at us smugly. Like a cat. One of those "figure it out on your own" faces.

We didn't.

We walked right back down to Aldia, and he told us about the brightbugs and the weird time travel shit. Mytha almost paid him a compliment for the wyverns. Almost.