Chapter 6: Plans and Discussions

They landed in a small clearing about half a league from Gil'ead, maybe a bit more. Anri bit back a yelp as the landing jostled her broken ribs, she would need to heal herself somehow. Estus was too precious, and she had given a sip to the elf woman they had rescued to combat the affliction. Estus wouldn't do much for poisons, but it would slow it down and reverse some of the damage that had been done.

She would settle for a healing spell, she decided, and would let her ribs heal naturally. Explaining the miracle was worth it if she could move around without extreme pain. Of which she was reminded when Murtagh did his best to get her off of Saphira without causing too much pain. "Murtagh, I need you over here," Eragon called out.

Anri looked at him. "Set me against a tree," she said, pointing to the edge of the clearing that they were closest to. "I'll be fine." She reached into her box and fumbled for her doll when she was set down, taking a moment to ready herself. Talking and breathing was going to be difficult, but she didn't have a choice.

Holding the doll to her chest, she began incanting. Vaguely she noted Saphira tearing a small tree out of the ground and holding it in her jaws.

"So it was, the knights of Gwyn, the Lord of Death, and the Witches of Chaos sung the tunes of victory." A faint golden glow surrounded the doll, the sound of far away bells rang in her ears.

"The Everlasting Dragons were vanquished, but the cost was high, as knights and undead lay dying on the fields." She inhaled sharply, wincing as the pain in her chest grew. A golden ring formed beneath her, words in an ancient language lined the interior.

"Pitying them, the Lady of Sunlight went out among them with her clerics, showering them all with her Healing Grace." Finishing the incantation she thrust the doll into the air, glowing gold. She sighed deeply as a warm light filled her body, righting some of the wrongs that had afflicted her. A blast of warm wind expelled from her, and golden particles fluttered about before fizzling away. Anri took in greedy breaths of air, the pain nowhere near as bad as it was moments ago. Standing up she still winced, a soreness pulsed through her abdomen.

The strength of miracles depended on two things; the faith of the caster, and the knowledge of the story. Entire stories yielded the most powerful and magnificent spells known to man. It was said that the Lady of Sunlight could even bring the dead back to life, but she was long gone and rumors were just rumors. Anri did not know the whole story of any of her miracles.

And her faith in the gods?

Anri shook her head as she walked back over to the trio, who were looking at her with obvious questions in their eyes. "A miracle," she explained. "A special kind of spell from my homeland. I'll tell you more when we're safe." That seemed to placate them for now, and Anri went about preparing Mira for travel. Her horse was very happy to see her, and Anri herself was surprised at her own happiness. It was amazing how quickly Mira had grown on her. It reminded her of when… Of-of when…

She couldn't remember…

Why couldn't she remember?

She recalled now that this had happened before, since coming here, and that's when she remembered the words of the being that had brought her here; "I am sorry, I cannot completely restore you from here, parts will be missing. They will return eventually…" And now she realized.

She was missing memories…

She couldn't pursue that train of thought as Murtagh approached, for which she was secretly thankful for. But she paused as she saw him. "What happened to your face?" For there was a large scrape going from his cheek to his chin, and she could see bruising beginning to color around it.

"Saphira hit me with her wing when Eragon pulled an arrow from her wing." He grunted, and all Anri could respond with was a simple "oh." Before they could continue Saphira took off, showering them all with gusts of wind as she rose through the air. They didn't wait for a second, all three of them mounting their horses and galloping as fast as they could away from Gil'ead. Even through the air whipping by their heads she could still hear them when they spoke.

"I have questions!" Eragon said, loudly enough for her to hear but not so loud as to attract attention.

"Naturally!" Anri said back. "Most of my answers will only lead to more questions, so try to keep it to immediate concerns. I'll answer more when we're not being hounded by the Empire!"

"Why are you helping me?!" He said, switching between looking at her and the route they were taking.

"Anri weaved around a tree. "I was given a…" Quest? Purpose? "A mission by a powerful being. "Protect the Rider and his Dragon!" It was the sole reason I was brought back! I'm part of an order called the Blue Sentinels; a group dedicated to protecting people from those who mean them ill. You're my mark. So I'll help you until the last breath leaves my body!"

It was silent for a few moments before Murtagh asked a question. He already knew most of her story, but much of it didn't make sense to him. "You called yourself "Unkindled," what does that mean?"

"It means I'm not human! To describe what I am would be a convoluted affair and a history lesson combined. Suffice it to say, I'm a human in all respects, except that I don't need to eat or sleep or do many things that a human needs to do to survive. I do those things to blend in, and because sometimes it can help."

"You make it sound like you're undead!" said Eragon this time.

"In certain respects I am! Unkindled Ash are brought back to fulfill a specific purpose delegated by a higher power of sorts. We don't stop until we've completed the task, not even death stops us for long…" She paused for a moment. "In a way I may be the antithesis to a Shade, but I'd need to know more about them before solidifying that claim. Regardless, we're brought back from the dead to fulfill a purpose, and then we're cast away, no longer needed or desired." She turned to Eragon, "In a way we're alike. We were both chosen for a purpose we didn't ask for. But looking at your relationship with Saphira, you're making the best of it."

That got her a genuine, if tired, smile from the young Rider. "You said you were "brought back." What do you mean by that?"

Her own smile fell and she looked forwards. "It means… that I fulfilled my original purpose. I faded away, hollowed, I didn't have a use or a purpose anymore. Someone though, brought me back to this Age. In a way, you're the only reason I'm alive." He smiled somewhat at that, misunderstanding. He thought she was happy about that… But she didn't blame him for her being here, and would let him have that. He had been through enough as of late.

"One last question." Her attention turned back to Eragon. "You said "This Age?""

"Indeed. , and everything I knew, was a part of the "Second Age," or the "Age of Fire." You, Saphira, Murtagh, and the Empire itself are by my estimates; a part of the Fourth Age, or maybe even beyond!"

She was amused by the utter shock on their faces, so at least she had that. She dodged around another tree before returning her attention back to Eragon who had begun speaking again.

So old! She was older than Brom was, and by a vast amount!

"How old are you exactly?!" he asked, still in utter shock.

The Knight known as Anri just laughed, "I don't know! The Age of Fire was stagnated. Time didn't pass, but we did. I lost count after centuries, but as I am now I may be the oldest being in Alagaësia."

Eragon just blinked. He couldn't wrap his head around it. To live centuries was still amazing to him, but to live as long as Anri did… The things she must have seen!

"Did you hear that?" He asked Saphira.

"No I didn't, what have you learned, little one? I sense your awe." She responded mentally, amused.

"The World passes through Ages, and Anri said that she's from the Second. By her estimate we're in the Fourth at least!"

"That could mean she's older than any elf! I'm not sure I can believe that, what proof does she have?" That… was actually a fair point. And he asked her that exact question.

"I thought you said you were done?" Anri said in amusement. "I've been following you across half the continent. Not once have I seen even an inkling of what I recognize. Not only that, but not once have I seen any icons of the gods of my age. Nothing of the Age of Fire has survived that I have seen, except for what I have on me." She tapped the strange box that rested on her hip. "I have the majority of my items from the Age of Fire. Much of it is magical, and according to a witch I met in Terim she had never seen such magic before. My armor and weapons are made of a material I haven't found here, and I've used magic that neither of you have ever seen or heard of before. But most importantly I have this." Anri pulled the strange sword that she had used in her fight against the Shade.

The sword was not a pretty site to look at. It resembled a fire poker more than it did a blade of war. Its hilt was pure and metal with a ring at the end. Its crossguard was arranged in four uneven and slightly bent points, and the blade itself was coiled tightly around the base while evening out towards the tip. The entire weapon seemed to be made of a molten metal, as if it had been inside of a fire the entire time since it was forged. And yet, when he looked at it, he could feel some kind of power. It was foreign, and not at all like the power he felt from Zar'roc. But more than that the power felt old. It held none of the magnificence it did when she was wielding it, besides a faded red tint to the center of the blade and the occasional flake of fire that sprouted off of the blade. It truly looked, and felt, like a weapon from a previous and much older Age.

"The coiled sword… I have more proof, and I'll be happy to show it, but not right now. We need to keep riding, we're not safe yet."

And so they did, for hours. They traveled through the night, not stopping even when their waning strength continued to slow them down. Anri noticeably wasn't bothered, and actually had to slow down slightly in order to keep pace with them. Occasionally they saw torches through the trees as the soldiers searched for their trail, and more than once they thought they could hear a shout from far off. It didn't last long though, and for hours more it was just them without any sign of the Imperials chasing them. They rode so long that the first light of dawn crept through the trees and the sky was starting to brighten. Almost at the same time Murtagh and Eragon slowed down to a stop, followed by Anri who nearly rode on until they halted. She didn't look any worse for ware, and when she took off her helmet he could believe it. He noted in the back of his head that it was the first time he saw her without her helmet on. She had a heart-shaped face with periwinkle eyes that was framed by slightly tamed; shoulder-length golden hair. But more than anything else she looked young. Not as young as him, but he could easily place her into her upper twenties. More than even that though, was that she didn't look nearly as tired as they must have.

"We have to make camp," said Eragon wearily. "I must sleep—whether they catch us or not." He was barely staying steady on Snowfire. If he rode any longer he would pass out from exhaustion.

"Agreed," said Murtagh, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Have Saphira land. We'll meet her."

They rode on and followed Saphira's directions until they found her drinking from a stream at the base of a small cliff, the elf still slouched and secure on her back. Saphira greeted them with a soft rumble as the three of them dismounted. Murtagh helped him remove the elf from Saphira's saddle and lowered her gently to the ground. Then they collapsed and sagged against the rock face, completely and utterly spent. Anri, bless her, tended to their horses and made sure they were alright before moving over to them, clipping her helmet to her belt and running her hands through her hair. She was mumbling to herself as she untangled knots, saying how she wasn't used to having it, and that it was a pain with the helmet. "Any longer and it goes," she grumbled to herself, sitting down by them as well.

For a while they spoke; about the elf and their speculations regarding her capture, what war would mean if a war broke out, and Eragon grew angry when he realized that Carvahall and Yazuac were destroyed under the king's orders. For a time they discussed how it would mean war, but with the Urgals on his side the King had enough soldiers to secure the border against any threat. And given time, he would be able to rally the people to a common cause, against the Varden. The King was excellent at manipulating people, and it would only be a matter of time before he would be able to manipulate everyone in the Empire. Their discussion led them to the Urgals, and why they were all migrating south.

"Whatever Galbatorix's plans, they'll only cause us trouble. I just wish that we knew where the Varden are!" Eragon thought unhappily to Saphira. That's where we should be going, but we're lost without Dormnad!"

"Don't give up," she said encouragingly. "Though, you probably aren't wrong," she dryly added.

"Thanks." He responded, equally dryly. He then looked at Murtagh. "You both risked your life to rescue me; I owe you for that. I couldn't have escaped on my own." It was more than that, though. Murtagh and Eragon shared a bond. There was no greater way to connect and bond then through battle, and that brotherhood was only tempered and refined by the loyalty that Murtagh had shown him. That same bond was quickly forming with Anri as well; both of them fought against the Shade. Anri deflected a hit aimed at him, he bought her time to breathe and re-enter the battle. Despite her ambiguous origins, she had proven nothing but helpful. He looked at Anri, "You're welcome to stay with us as long as you want. I'm bound for the Varden, and I'm not sure of your overall plans in Alagaësia."

She gave him a small smile, "I'm with you all the way if you'll have me, by my life or my death I'll see your journey to its end."

"I'll be glad to have you with us, all of us will." He smiled back.

She gave a small bow, "Then by my oath as a Blue Sentinel, I'll stand by your side until your purpose is fulfilled. My sword and shield are yours."

He then asked Murtagh about how they rescued him, only to grow confused at his groan. Then he told Eragon about the tool they used.

"A tree branch?" he asked incredulously, looking at Anri who realized that the question was aimed at her.

She hummed and nodded, reaching and taking a small, white tree branch from her box. And… that's what it was, just a simple tree branch. "I'm not sure as to their origin, but when broken and held close, it casts an illusion around the holder. Anyone looking at you will see a mundane item that they'd expect to see in the general vicinity. If I used one here you'd probably see a rock, or maybe a small tree or bush. When we got in, we simply walked past the guards until we reached your cell."

"Is that how you were able to hide yourself and the elf? I saw you appear out of a chair!"

Anri nodded her confirmation. Though it explained how they did it, Eragon's head hurt just as much as Murtagh's. Something so simple could do something so amazing.

"But the plan wouldn't have worked without Saphira. She," Murtagh stopped and pointed at the dragoness, "that is, you, are the only reason we escaped alive, if injured."

Anri quipped when he finished, "I don't think I'll be riding you again if my ribs are broken. That was one of the worst experiences of my life."

The dragoness only chuffed in amusement, before humming happily as Eragon ran his hand across her scaly neck. He gazed at the elf for a time before sighing and standing up. "We should make a bed for her." When he moved her though, he noticed the extent of her injuries, sending three of them into a panic. She had the telltale signs of torture, much to Eragon's horror. Bruises from beatings, lashes from whipping, blisters from burns. Who knows what else happened and for how long. Eragon swore to kill whoever did this to her.

"Can you heal this?" asked Murtagh urgently.

"I—I don't know," said Eragon. He swallowed back a sudden rush of queasiness. "There's so much."

"I can heal most of it," came Anri's voice. Eragon looked at her, noticing her hardened face. "All three of you are tired, you need your rest. I have much I can use to treat her."

"She's an elf, she cannot be allowed to die!" And Eragon realized that Saphira said that to Anri as well.

Undaunted, she brought her hand to her chest and bowed her head. "I will not allow her to die, you have my word."

The very first thing Anri did was slide a ring onto the elf's finger. She had explored a bit after defeating Aldrich, and had found a small ring in front of a large bedchamber. When inquiring about it at Firelink Shrine, she learned that it was actually the ring of the Sun Princess, Gwynevere. It had supernatural healing properties that were granted to anyone who wore it. No matter how grievous, all physical injuries would slowly but surely heal themselves. She wouldn't be using the ring to heal the elf though, it was a stopgap. There were too many wounds that would kill the elf too fast for the ring to work, but it would slow the process down and give her a fighting chance.

The main worry Anri had was the poison. Estus would help to an extent, the ring would help to an extent, but neither could cure poison. The only thing that Anri had that could deal with poison reliably were her purple moss clumps. The issue was that they had to be ingested, and the elf wasn't conscious. She didn't want to risk waking her either, and wasn't sure that the elf could be woken. For now Anri would have to settle for healing the wounds she could deal with.

Over the course of the next few hours Anri muttered incantations and ran her hands over as many of the wounds as she could. She noted that while the elf was lithe and thin, tightly corded muscle rested beneath the burned and scarred skin she was healing. She was strong, there was no mistaking that. In more ways than one… The injuries Anri found were cruel; burns, rips, lashes, prods, and every other inhumane tool Anri could think of was used on the poor woman. It was a miracle in and of itself that the elf was still alive.

Slowly, scars faded to angry lines, burns to irregular patches, blisters to raw skin. There was so much that Anri found herself unable to go on, her magical reserves were depleting. Anri had to finish up by bandaging the last few non-worrying injuries and gently pouring a sip of her precious Estus down the elf's throat. She was relieved when the familiar golden glow shimmered around the elf before vanishing. Estus would heal anybody here, it seemed. She was thankful for that, even if her reserves were worryingly low. She dressed the elf again in her strange garb and gently brought her over to the sleeping young men. They were already looking better, she noted. Sleep could do wonders. She walked over to them under the gaze of Saphira. The dragoness has probably watched her every move, her promise not forgotten.

"Get up," she gently said, bending over and shaking Murtagh's shoulder. His eyes shot open and he took a startled breath until he noticed where he was.

"Are you finished?" He asked, blinking away the remnants of his sleep.

"Yes, she'll live but her situation is urgent." She shook Eragon awake as well, holding out a hand and pulling him up when he took it. "She has a potent poison in her system. I don't know the antidote and all of my medicine is solid rather than liquid." She looked at their worried faces, "I can prevent her death for a time, reverse the damage, but I can't deal with the root problem."

"If I knew more about healing I could help! But…" Eragon gestured uselessly before letting out an aggravated sigh. There was silence for a few moments before he spoke again. "We need to move, the soldiers are closing in on us."

They all agreed and mounted up, continuing in the general direction of 'away from Gil'ead.' They rode well into the evening until the sun fell just below the horizon, eating on the saddle and not stopping for any break. Anri was fine, but she could see the toll it was taking on Eragon and Murtagh. They began debating where to go while Anri watched on, tending to the horses and checking on the elf. If they kept going straight, then the Empire would overtake them. That wasn't counting beings that they called the Ra'zac who had their own flying steeds. A kingdom lay to the south, but it was too dangerous as travel with the empire was common. They would be caught or discovered in the towns. But regardless of where they went, they had to leave the Empire.

That left East, into the Hadarac desert…

It would take them years to find the Varden, and months to actually cross it. Anri wasn't familiar with deserts, but she had talked to someone briefly who was. Another Unkindled like her; Siegward, was a knight of Catarina. From her understanding Catarina was like Lothric, except it was situated in the middle of a desert. His description matched Murtagh's; incredibly hot, harsh, and very dangerous.

Ironically, the least hospitable was their safest option… And Anri was known to be lucky?

But as they spoke and discussed the pros, a plan began to form. It wasn't much, but if they went more to the southeast then it would cut a significant amount off of the journey. Then they could follow the Beor Mountains to Surda or east into the unknown wilderness. If they really pushed themselves, they would cross the desert quickly, but there was also the issue of supplies. But as Murtagh pointed out there was one incredibly important issue that needed to be addressed.

Water.

Four people, three horses, and a dragon would need enough water to cross one of, if not the largest stretch of land on the continent. Said stretch of land was a desert, and water would be absolutely crucial for their survival. Eragon told them that he was going to experiment and left them, closely followed by Saphira. Anri made sure the horses were settled before sitting down some paces away from Murtagh.

He gave her a look, "if we end up crossing the Hadarac you might want something else to wear."

"Hm?"

"Your armor. You said you're more resistant than the average human, but it's still a desert. I'm not sure how well you'll do in the heat wearing all of," he gestured broadly to her Elite Knight armor, "that."

"Ah… I do have more I can wear, quite a lot more actually, but I'd have to look for something that would actually be beneficial." And there really was a lot that she could wear. Anri was a kleptomaniac, if there was something remotely useful in her vicinity she would stuff it in her box. Actually… She unclipped her box and set it in her lap, digging through it and pulling out the Mirrah Armor she had found in the Undead Settlement. Murtagh watched with keen interest as she pulled a full set of clothing and the hard leather vest that went with it, out of a box that she could wear on her hip with no trouble.

"I don't think I'll ever understand that."

"I don't either, I just use it. To my knowledge there are only two in existence."

Anri laid out the armor set in front of her, checking it for anything wrong. She had repair powder just in case, but she'd rather not use the precious material if she didn't need to.

"Are you going to change?"

She gave a questioning hum in response, pressing the best against herself to check the fit.

"Are you going to change?" He asked again. "We're probably going to leave as soon as Eragon figures something out."

Anri sat back and gave Murtagh an amused grin, "I didn't know you were that forward, we barely know each other!" She said with fake shock.

"What?" Murtagh blinked before her words registered. "No! You know that's not," he paused when he saw her broad grin. "Just do it in the trees you madwoman." He shook his head in exasperation and went back to doing what he was before.

All Anri did was laugh as she took her armor away and left the small camp. Luckily the Mirrah Armor set fit her, but it felt incredibly odd not to have her Astoran Knight armor on. It was like a piece of her was missing, and the feeling probably wouldn't fade until she was wearing it again. She rolled her shoulders a few times and twisted her body, checking its movement. She had the same range, but she felt lighter. Her form was also slimmer, less bulky. It was much easier to tell that she was a woman than it was with her armor, though that was just an observation on Anri's part. The last piece was to clip her sword and its sheath on her belt and to put her sliced shield into the box. She was as ready as she would ever be.

She tied her hair into a messy ponytail as she walked back to the small campsite. She nodded at Murtagh as she sat back down.

"That's certainly better for the desert than what you were wearing before. How does it feel?"

"Lighter," she answered. "Not what I'm used to, maybe when I was a footwoman before I was a knight, but not now." She clenched her gloved hands into a fist, testing the relatively unused leather.

"How did you become a knight? If you don't mind me asking."

She gave Murtagh a side-glance before pulling the Llewellyn Shield from her box. She stared at it for a long moment. It was one of her most precious items, and if she dared to, she would fall into an unrecoverable spiral of memories. The Ashen One, her fellow Unkindled, had given it to her, or at least she thought so. Her memories were unreliable. It belonged to a dear friend, and she had it now. That's what was important… The shield would be more useful for this set of armor than her crested shield. If not, she would switch again.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," said Murtagh after a few minutes of silence. He must've noticed her look.

"No! No, I'll tell you, even if it's not much of a story." She looked to the unfamiliar stars as she tried to recall the memories. "I proved myself during a siege, I think." There were flashes of a battle, she was rallying soldiers on a wall, archers were firing into the sky. But… "Astora's history is ambiguous and long, and even without my fractured memories I wouldn't be a reliable narrator. I remember a siege, the soldiers on the wall were wavering and the defense was buckling. I think I rallied a defense, drove off the attackers and held until reinforcements came. The rest isn't there; blanks where there should be pictures." And it really was as she said; she could see clear pictures and could recall events as they happened, and the next minute it was like a burnt page out of a ruined book. "I remember training, a ceremony, more fights, and the Fall…" She brought up her hand and looked at the Ring of the Evil Eye. Even now she felt its burning gaze, and saw the ruin it unleashed on her city.

"The Fall?"

Anri looked at Murtagh, moving her gaze from the ring. "Astora is no more, obviously. But even before my time as an Unkindled it had been a ruined place. Decrepit, forlorn, with only us knights as proof of its existence."

"What happened?" There was burning curiosity in Murtagh's eyes. For a world long past, and as Anri looked into those eyes she realized that she once wore the same gaze. How long ago that was…

But alas the time of storytelling had come to an end, for Eragon was returning with Saphira in tow. He wore a victorious smile, even if he looked even more weary than before. Then he blinked as he saw Anri.

"Well?" Murtagh asked, "is the desert open to us?"

"It is," Eragon said as he flopped down onto his sheets. He told them how he had experimented with water, and was able to drag it to the surface without using much magic. As he had said, the desert was indeed open to them. They talked a bit more after that, and Anri decided for the four of them that she would stand watch and wake them just before dawn.

And for a while she simply… sat there. Everyone else was asleep, even the horses, and the only company she had were the crickets and the small woodland animals scurrying about. It was one of the first times where she wasn't in a hurry, or trying to catch somebody. So she had time to… reminisce? Be introspective? Retrospective?

If she did that she probably wouldn't be able to claw her way out! What torture it would be to truly consider her situation. She was the last effigy of an Age long forgotten. She was Unkindled in a world that didn't need one, which meant she would eventually hollow again. What had she done to warrant this punishment? Not only was she denied her rest, but now she was again locked in a struggle she had no say in. Even if she didn't hollow, what future would await one such as her? There would be no peace in her life; it ran from her in terror.

Oh the pain she wanted to inflict on the one who brought her here!

And what did it mean that she was a Lord of Cinder? When did that happen?! What vestige of the Fire was left for her to inherit? There was the coiled sword, but that was all she had on her, and even then it wouldn't last forever. There was more going on here than a struggle over a Dragon Rider. More than an empire and a rebellion. This world wasn't ready for whatever it was, from what she had seen…

As the sun began to brighten the sky Anri woke the two young men and began readying the horses as they debated what to do with the elf. By the time she had finished she had to pause simply to take in what she saw.

"We'll have to check the rope for fraying." Muttered Murtagh as he cupped a hand to his chin.

The elf was tied to Saphira's belly back-first using rope made of sheets and linen. It was a disaster waiting to happen…

"Are we ready to go?" Asked Eragon.

Murtagh's eyes sparked dangerously, a tight smile formed on his lips. He glanced back the way they had come, already there was smoke from the camps of the soldiers pursuing them, "I always did like races."

"Three of us against the entire Empire? I fancy our odds," Anri shrugged as she mounded Mira. Saphira took off and the three of them sped away like bandits in the dawn's light.

A little later than I was hoping, but here we are! The chapters are going to be slow for a bit, and believe me when I say I'm trying to move through filler as quickly as I can. But thankfully we're speeding up, the Hadarac Desert awaits!

There's not much else for me to say, other than the usual "thank you's" for reading my story, and I hope you enjoy this filler chapter. I sat on it for a bit, not really sure what to do or how to go about it. As much as I love these books sometimes there just isn't much interesting going on. But I also don't want to do big time skips as I feel like it kills the pacing quite a bit, and some important stuff does happen in this part of the book. This one wasn't my favorite, but it's important for setting up future events.

On the other hand I hope you like the moments when I talk about Anri's past! We barely get any of it, and I'm slowly charting a story about what she did before we see her in Dark Souls 3. It will be relevant in the coming chapters. I can't wait for you to see it!

Sorry if this one was slow and mundane! I'll see you all soon~