Chapter 23: An Ashen Bride
The area the four Undead travelers found themselves in well-built and enduring, only the tiniest hints of age creeping in. A second black bowl-altar ringed by three headless serpents lay behind them while in front was a pair of massive iron doors up a short flight of steps, with two smaller chambers to the left and right. These were filled with sixteen graves and tombstone-like artifacts, eight in each room. Nothing but a faint tingle of distorted magic could be felt, yet there were no messages or symbols from White or Orange Soapstones.
Reaching the two large and heavy doors, the team looked in awe at the craftsmanship. It looked like iron, but could have been some other unknown metal. On its surface were numerous symbols and sigils, but three pairs of pictures held their gaze; A four legged beast with spikes emerging from its back. A person holding a staff in one hand and a praying figure in the other. A robed entity expelling a cloud of magic or some such substance from their hand. These three images were bold and though crude carried a ferocious dignity. They seemed to have a story to tell, but none left alive could likely remember it.
The sealed door caused a reaction in the Old Iron King's soul, and the Undead chef winced as it clamored at him. Obeying the call, Erik reached into his pouch and hefted the solid Iron Key left behind by the Old Iron King and slotted it into an opening on the door. Turning it in the lock, a resounding click and thud shook the air, and Erik placed his hands on it. To his surprise the door opened easily, hardly as heavy as it first seemed.
On the other side was a single elevator. Squeezing all four of them onto it was hard, and Erik constantly worried he'd fall off as he was the one closest to the edge. When it finally came to a halt, the chef sighed in relief, only for his breath to catch in his throat. He was not the only one stunned.
They were high in the air, towering above the clouds and able to see for countless miles around them. Below the earth was the cracked stained red with the lava that had drowned Alken. From up high it was hard to tell if the molten earth had receded at all, and bright dots of flames burned in the smog and twilight. Most astonishing of all was the gargantuan tower that rose before them, a mighty edifice of iron and stone. Thick, bronze colored chains connected it to three other smaller, lesser towers, surrounded by mountains that were small and feeble compared to the tower in the middle.
"Brume Tower!" Mytha gasped, recognizing the famous landmark. The pride of the Old Iron King, it was the largest foundry, smelting furnace, and forge in the entire world, where literal tons of iron, steel, and other metals were processed each day. Claimed from Venn, which had been the fallen kingdom's source of power, when the Old Iron King invaded this was the first place to fall.
"It's amazing," Chloanne breathed, awed at the sight of the greatest industrial facility in all of history. Even Erik and Lucatiel, both far less impressed by matters of blacksmithing, were silenced by the overwhelming power of industry before them.
"We just traveled hundreds of miles in an instant," Mytha breathed, looking out at the sight before her. "It would take a week by horse or carriage to reach this place, but here we are!"
"I see stairs over here. Come on, let's go!" Erik eagerly said, his thoughts conjuring all sorts of treasures to find and sights to see. The threat of whatever evil lurked here was put on hold for more important matters of exploration.
As they ascended, a number of unusual corpses started to appear. Each was clad in sturdy steel armor complete with helmet, and armed with flambergs and heavy crossbows. They looked familiar to Erik, but it was Mytha who identified them.
"These are Royal Soldiers of Drangleic! King Vendrick's men!" The Queen of Alken exclaimed, staring at the bodies in surprise. Erik did a double take, and indeed they did seem similar to the Hollowed soldiers he'd seen wandering the ruined Castle in the woods, but with their armor in much better condition. Some bodies seemed to have been frozen, others scorched. All were dead though and he was unsure as to why they'd even been up here. Mytha too seemed perplexed by this. Perhaps Vendrick had sought to claim this great marvel of engineering for himself when Alken fell.
At the top the dead Royal Soldiers surrounded a creature seemingly frozen solid in ice, with six large, raw looking stakes of fire-blackened Titanite impaled in it. They carried a powerful enchantment within, and the four Undead adventurers plucked them from the statuesque being which crumbled to powdered snow from the removal.
"So, any ideas on how to cross?" Erik asked, looking across to where the Tower of Brume stood, many of its forges still blazing away definitely in spite of the destruction around it. The only way he saw to cross one of the thick, heavy bronze chains that connected their smaller tower to the main one. Mytha looked over the edge and tsked her tongue.
"The chains used to have a cart system that moved materials and people to and from. It looks like the cart for this section has been destroyed." She pointed at something and Erik risked a glance to see what she pointed at. Below, the shattered and twisted remains of a metal box-like container lay in on a snow stained ledge.
"How do we get across them?" Lucatiel asked and Mytha frowned before a sly smirk crossed her lips.
"We'll walk." The three shorter Undead stared at the queen with looks that ranged to confused to incredulous. Mytha just chuckled and walked over to the chain before stepping onto it and walking across.
"What are you waiting for? If we go slow and steady we can make it safely to the other side," Mytha called out, hands on hips in a taunting pose.
Erik, Lucatiel, and Chloanne shared a look. The chain was old, had been neglected for centuries, and was covered in a thick coating of frost from the altitude. Oh, and not to mention the gale like winds that tore across them this high up. One misstep or a strong enough breeze would send them plummeting to their death. Sure, they'd revive at a bonfire, but it would still hurt! And then they'd still have to try and cross again later!
"Don't worry! Here, let me help!" Mytha called out and raised her spear. A blue glow wrapped around her companion's boots, and the Undead looked at their feet gormlessly, not understanding what had happened.
"There you go! A modification of the Fall Control Sorcery, 'Sure Step.' No matter how you walk, you won't fall off of anything as long as that spell lasts."
"This is the second time I've seen someone modify Fall Control for an interesting side effect," Erik mused, testing the queen's claims by stepping up onto the chain. His boots stuck to the metal and held fast, but when he went to lift his foot to take a step it came away easily while his balance remained perfect.
"Oh? What spell was it?"
"Super Jump, a Sorcery used by Carhillion of the Fold, a Melfian sorcerer Lucatiel and I met. Instead of falling slowly, he could jump up very high and very fast," Erik revealed, and Mytha nodded in understanding.
"You certainly are an interesting person, making friends with someone so powerful and influential. I've only met one of Melfia's upper hierarchy before, and he didn't come off as open or friendly."
"He came to Drangleic weary of his peers' power struggles. Carhillion is very intelligent and eager to teach. I think you two could get along well," Lucatiel said kindly, following behind Erik up onto the bronze links. Chloanne was the last one to join them on the chain, after revealing a fear of heights to her friends.
"Is this yet another reason you dislike Gilligan?" Erik teased, and the ore trader flushed at the mention of the Laddersmith.
"No comment," she muttered through clenched teeth. A ripple of small chuckles were lost to the ripping winds on the chain, and the Undead moved onwards, slowly and steadily towards Brume Tower.
It took a little more than half an hour, and the whole situation had been nerve wracking, even for Mytha though she hid it much more easily. The Sure Step spell did its job well, and the only actual threat was the biting cold wind. That said, all of them were relieved to slump down in front of a bonfire at the very top of the gargantuan tower.
"This part used to be a clock tower," Mytha said sadly, looking around the broken gears and springs that littered the area. "You could see the face and hear the bells even in Alken."
The queen suddenly tensed, and spun to look at something in the distance of the ruined tower top. Erik did so as well, a strange tingly feeling rippling in his left hand and his collection of souls. The knightess and ore trader did not sense anything but got into a battle stance all the same when they saw their magically attuned comrades become wary.
"Something is coming," Mytha said, and she was soon proved right as something large and burning erupted out of the thick layer of ash and snow several feet away.
It looked like the torso of a woman, but one made of flaming coal and shadows. She had her mouth open is a scream, emitting a sizzling roar and her talon tipped arms flailed as if she wanted to ward the Undead away from her and the stairs leading into the tower.
"Welcome Darling, you've come! Come to me! Come quickly! Let me surround you, let me surround you, please don't go." Words rippled out from the bizarre entity, a voice brushing against their minds. It was a mixture of hissing steam and sensuality, with a hint of longing. "I waited so long for you, it was unbearable, my dear. Where were you? Oh, it doesn't matter. As long as you're here."
"Are you Nadalia?" Erik gasped, the voice familiar to him. Or at least, to a particular soul in his possession. While his friends looked at the chef as if he was mad the creature stopped its undulation, as if confused as to why he would have to ask her name.
"Castor? Is that not you?"
Mytha's breathe hitched in her throat and she took a step back in shock. As for Erik, he took a step forward.
"No, I am not. My name is Erik Potts of Lindelt. The Old Iron King is dead."
"MURDERER!" Nadalia's avatar screamed, and the snow around her flashed to steam as a ripple of flame lashed out.
"He was wounded by Sir Alonne and then tainted by Chaos! He became a Demon and had to be put down!" Erik desperate tried to explain, but the creature before them refused to listen.
"LIAR! Castor said he would be fine! He promised me! He loved me! He…"
"You bitch!" Mytha suddenly shouted, drawing her spear and thrusting it at the face of the Ashen Idol. "Because of you, my life was ruined!"
"Who are you to speak to me like this?!" Nadalia growled, and the Queen of Alken rose to her full height, buoyed by righteous anger.
"I am Mytha Shevara Nolmestris Helanvi, eldest child of King Radavire III, crown princess of Jugo, and queen of Alken," the tall woman stated, stressing the 'queen' part of her name.
However, instead of shouting in rage, or denying Mytha's status, the burning effigy of Nadalia fell silent, only the pop and snap of fire to be heard. Then, before their eyes the fire shrunk in on its self and the torso of the woman suddenly threw herself flat in a position of prostration.
"I am sorry! Please, forgive me!"
The four Undead all blinked in surprise and confusion. What? Why was she apologizing?
"Castor told me about you, how he always regretted not being able to give you the love you deserved," Nadalia wept, her form more human and her voice losing the crackle and spit of flames. "He didn't know what to do, or how to act around you. Please, forgive me for stealing his heart! I did not mean to hurt you!"
"What are you… how can… explain!" Mytha shouted, desperate for answers. The Ashen Idol nodded in compliance.
"I shall. I shall reveal everything I can," Nadalia said, head still bowed. "I first met Castor…"
"After he slew a band of Giants in these very mountains," Erik chimed in. Seeing the looks shot at him, he explained. "When I absorbed his soul, I saw some things. One of those was his first encounter with you, Nadalia. You had apparently been stalking him and wanted to heal him of his wounds."
"That is true. I was drawn to the brightness of his soul and so desperately wanted to be near him. To something like me, the light of a mighty soul is more alluring than anything you can possibly imagine," Nadalia said, sparing a glance for the chef. "As I tended to him and ministered his wounds, he poured his heart out to me, and I did the same in turn. I told him that he was destined for great things. And after a few days alone in the mountains, he admitted he was starting to fall for me."
"But his love for me could not be. Though my sisters might manage to briefly take lovers, I cannot. By my very nature, companionship is denied to me. And a king cannot have a woman who will not rule by his side or even show her face to the people. It was decided we would have to love each other in secret."
"What does that even mean? Why can you not have love, or have stood beside him? And why then would he accept my father's marriage proposal if he had you, however secret your liaisons may have been?!" Mytha all but screamed, and the monstrous figure shivered.
"Heh, look at me, acting like Alsana…" Erik heard Nadalia mumble under her breath.
"To answer the last part of your question, it was I who suggested that Castor marry you. He needed a queen, and a strong ally that would help his land rebuild. Jugo was the perfect place for such an alliance and your beauty was already quite famous even in Drangleic. I hoped that maybe in time he could have come to love you and then forget me. It was for the best, or so I thought. But I misjudged his devotion to me. He could not offer his feelings to you because he had given himself fully to me," Nadalia explained. "In time, his intimacy with me became known, especially after the Giants were defeated. Rumors are endless, and of course spies prowl every court looking for secrets. I tried time and again to convince Castor to leave me and dedicate himself to you, Queen Mytha. But he did not. And, as ashamed as I am to say it, I grew to love his attentions. I wanted to keep him all to myself. And that was just the start of my downfall."
"And as for the first question, it is a hard thing to explain…"
"Loneliness." Again, Erik interrupted, and this time the Ashen Idol looked up fully at Erik, scrutinizing the Undead. Whatever she saw in him satisfied her, and she nodded in agreement.
"Yes, you are correct. I am not a human. Nor am I a god or a demon. I am a being born of the pure essence of the Darkness and Humanity combined. One of five siblings created by the sundering of the Primeval Man, and the embodiment of father's Loneliness; I am Nadalia, the Bride of Ash."
"You…" Mytha uttered, stunned. Lucatiel and Chloanne shared the queen's state of shock. Only Erik remained unsurprised. Manus, the Primeval Man. A legend that predated any known kingdom, but persisted across ages. The primogenitor of all mankind, but betrayed and corrupted by the Darkness. An impossible tale. But one that Erik apparently believed.
"I've seen you. Or at least, three others beside you in the memories of my souls. A woman of Wrath who sang to a dragon. A woman of Want who worked with Aldia to create monsters and stole the children of the Giants. And a woman of Fear, who guarded Chaos with the Ivory King," Erik said, folding his arms and looking straight at the Ashen Idol.
"I didn't know who or what they were, and to be honest I still don't. Can you explain to me who they are and what this all means? What is your purpose? What is your connection to the Monarch Candidates?"
Nadalia sighed like a steam whistle, and looked to the chef with empty sockets.
"I will do my best. But please, let me speak to the queen, first. I must explain things to her. Plus, what I say to her relates to your own questions."
Erik nodded in understanding and shot Mytha a comforting smile. She returned it weakly and with a thankful nod of her head before turning back to the so-called Bride of Ash.
"So… the title of yours…?"
"Was always mine, even before I met the Old Iron King. That it connects with his own moniker is mere coincidence. Or perhaps fate," Nadalia assured. "As for his union with you, I thought it would help him. I am ancient, and not a good long term romantic partner. My very existence is a cursed one. The 'Loneliness' I embody means I will instinctively drive others away. Animals flee my presence, mortals become repulsed and seek to hurt me. Yet Castor was unique. He was a reincarnation of a very old and powerful being, and his soul was more than human; It carried a hint of divinity within it. The boy has seen it, no doubt. The Solar King's essence was reborn into Castor, but he was his own person. Yet that soul of his allowed Castor to resist my natural aura, and remain close to me."
"Years passed, and I remained hidden yet by his side. I helped Castor's work where I could by crafting powerful artifacts for him. His crown was something I made, and when the Tower of Brume was built it became my personal workshop. I made the Smelter Demons. I oversaw the production of Blacksteel. I ensured the works of my beloved endured. And I found love for the first time in my life. It was selfish of me, I suppose. My attempts to make Castor love you instead dwindled and became token. But I was careless. I'd spent so long around Castor that I began to forget about my… 'Condition.' In a moment of personal folly I wandered the halls of the Tower without taking the proper precautions and Sir Alonne discovered me, and saw me for what I was." Nadalia trembled at the memory.
"Confronting Castor, he demanded that I die. He claimed, not wrongly, that I am a monster connected to the Curse of the Undead. Sir Alonne was one of the few who was privy to the details about the First Flame, the Curse's origins, and the nature of the threats that waited for it to fade. In the end it came to blows. Dear friends forced to fight to the death. Castor should have let me die. But he could not." Nadalia shook her head and her voice became bitter.
"Sir Alonne wounded me badly. He cut my soul into eleven pieces and scattered them around the Tower during his duel with Castor. He was eventually struck down but dealt a hefty wound to my dear lover in the process. He must have thought I was slain, and fled in despair. And I should have been slain. But I came into possession of the Crown I'd forged, and its magic sustained me. Now, I can communicate beyond my own body through my soul fragments. But I am weak, an constantly lessening in power. In time I will perish and my magic will go out of control. Perhaps this is my penance. But I fear what will happen, for I have been able to hold back the Chaos that flooded this land, and when I fade it will run rampant."
"How can we help?" Everyone stared at Mytha, even Nadalia.
"You… you would help me restore myself? Even after knowing it is because of my actions you were alone and unloved?" the Bride of Ash asked, unbelieving. The former Chaos-twisted woman nodded.
"I do not like you, and I doubt I can forgive you for many things, but from what I understand it was my husband's fault he was unable to devote himself to me. You were the object of his desire, but you at least tried to turn him aside and back to me. And if you die, Erik's questions will go unanswered. And as his friend, I am invested in all of his wants and needs," Mytha explained, an odd emphasis on 'friend' as she looked at Erik. The Ashen Idol smiled, or at looked like it did, and turned to Erik.
"To save me, you must destroy these Ashen Idols of mine and retrieve the pieces of my souls within. But only very specific items can properly destroy these avatars to release the soul. Very old and powerful weapons could do it, but the best choice you have is to use Smelter Wedges. They are tools I made to create Smelter Demons, used to nail the soul of a Giant to its altered body but can also be used to push a soul out of something. You already have some. Simply stab it into the heart of these Ashen Idols and my Soul Shard should be imbedded on the Wedge, where it can be taken and stored." The Undead nodded at her instructions, following along. "Once you've gathered all eleven, come find me in the Tower's throne room. I reside there. The guardians of the Tower should not bother you as long as you do not attack them. They are all under my dominion."
"As for your question, young Erik, I will answer what I can. The figures you saw were my sisters. Elana, Squalid Queen, embodying father's Wrath. All of his hate resides in her. She was queen of Shulva once, guarding a terrible Dragon that was twisted by both Chaos and Darkness. Even now she hides in the ruins, keeping Sinh locked in enchanted slumber. Then, there is Alsana, the Silent Oracle, who is father's Fear. Out of all of us, she is the kindest and despises conflict. She willingly chose to spend her life sealing the source of Chaos, keeping the majority of it from seeping out. Last of my sisters is Nashandra, Regent of Avarice. She is the embodiment of father's Want. All that Manus desired now pushes her ever onward. I believe you know her as the wife of King Vendrick." The last name caused ripples of surprise to flicker through the Undead and Nadalia smiled.
"Surprising, is it not? To know one of my kin sat so close to the center of power and influenced so much? She was always the most ambitious. Nashandra wants to end the Age of Fire and usher in a new era, one of Darkness in order to avenge our father. Unlike her though, the rest of us do not want that. While we may have wanted so before, now all of us, even Elana, see that the world is much more interesting while alive and vibrant with light. If Darkness claims the world, it will be boring."
"Oh, and the last of my siblings is my dearest brother, Barnabas the Darklurker, embodiment of father's Protectiveness. You likely have not seen him in your souls because he hides in the Darkness keeping it at bay and 'encouraging' those who seek the Dark to turn away," Nadalia said, finally finished introducing her family though the last person seemed thrown in as if an afterthought.
"And your relation to the Curse and the Monarchs?" Erik demanded. Nadalia was silent before replying.
"I cannot tell you. Not now." Before Erik could protest, the Idol held up a hand to forestall him.
"Let me explain! I would if I could, but there are rules even I must obey. Steps to follow. Until you have completed certain restrictions and tasks and obtained specific items I am literally incapable of telling you anything. Old magic and oaths bind the tongues of me and my siblings. But I can give you a hint. If you want to know the truth behind the Curse of the Undead, you must collect four crowns that were made by me and my sisters. Each contains a portion of our powers, and if collected can allow you to force us to tell you what we know. These, when combined with the four Lord Soul fragments you have already begun to gather, will answer your questions. But until that time, my lips are sadly sealed."
Erik looked angry for a moment, but then he sighed in defeat and nodded.
"I'll hold you to that, Miss Nadalia. First I must free you though. And the crown you spoke of is the key to all of that." He turned to his comrades and motioned to the stairs.
"Come on ladies. Let's go grab a crown and stab some statues."
Before they left though Mytha jammed one of the Smelter Wedges into the Ashen Idol in front of them, collecting the Bride of Ash's soul fragment from its remains. Erik and the others would not call her out on this, but they were certain they saw a vindictive smile on the queen's lips as she did so.
Author's Note: In Hebrew, Barnabas is a name that means 'Son of Consolation/Comfort' or 'Son of the Prophet,' which I thought was fitting for what I imagine the Darklurker to be; a guardian who keeps foolish mortals out of the corrupting powers of the Dark. Why else would the Pilgrims of the Abyss, people who worship the Dark, fight him? Because he keeps them out when they want in. It also works in the naming sense because the name of Elana, one of Manus' children, is a derivative of 'Ilana' which is a female Hebrew name, and means 'Tree.' Also fitting seeing how Elana is like a giant rotten mess of roots when you encounter her in Shulva.
As far as I can tell, 'Nadalia,' 'Alsana,' and 'Nashandra' have no direct name comparison, though 'Nadalia' sounds like 'Natalia,' but that doesn't make a lot of sense here because that name means 'Christmas Day.' So, I'm just working with what I've got.