The great dark moon hung low in the sky. Ash turned halfway to gaze upon it from his perch at the edge of this oversized fire pit, allowing the dim flame that crackled at the center to gently bake the metal of his helm's nape. The bone-white disc glinted, almost glared, down at the spectacle that was about to take place. A grand light show was soon to begin; a storm of fire was brewing. Perhaps such a magnificent flare induced envy in the celestial beacon. Just before he turned his head away, Ash's eyes caught the thin scar of Ranni's great rune, etched faint as a spirit's kiss into the pockmarked face of the moon.

Ranni… the thought pulled a weary sigh from him as his gaze drifted out to the field far below. A marred, half-naked, red-haired corpse lay sprawled out in the snow, so gargantuan in size it could be plainly seen in fine detail all the way from up where Ash stood, on the lip of the Forge of the Giants.

The Fire Giant had proven himself a cumbersome foe. Even with the last of his flame's faded powers, the smoldering colossus proved himself unable to squash a bug such as Ash. He stumbled and rolled and flailed past the knight's reach, meagre as it was against a being of such scale even with the aid of his colossal sword.

Ash's gaze shifted to the armament in question. The dozens of rusted broadswords that comprised his weapon's hulking blade were still slick with the Fire Giant's blood, but the crimson liquid was rapidly fading as it bubbled and sizzled on the metal, alight with the residual power of the Fell Flame. The same flame that crackled at the bottom of the forge, peering up at Ash with the same ravenous greed with which fire always burned.

A greed that would soon be satisfied.

Ash's hand moved to his left leg. Strapped to his thigh, nestled uncomfortably amidst the jutting iron bramble, a dagger rested. The plain wooden handle sharply contrasted the contorted blade—crooked, angry, and anything but modest. The jutting spine and coarse serrations along the underbelly only added to the gnarled appearance, like a fang ripped from its host's maw. The steel was burnt and pockmarked, and the flat of the blade was unusually thick. A misshapen, yet strangely elegant thing.

Ash's gloved fingers grazed the dimpled knife. The cloth lining of his armor, soaked with melted snow, left streaks of cold water trailing along the blade. When his hand reached the handle, he gave it a ginger squeeze.

A low chuckle echoed stiffly through his armor.

"We're so close, my friend," he murmured.

Snowy cinders lined the rim of the forge along the whole of its great circumference. God knew for how long the ashen dust had settled here. Centuries? Millennia? It wasn't certain. What was certain was that this lone knight was likely the first person to disturb this place in a long, long time.

So when the dust to the side of his resting place stirred to life and rose in a swirling spiral, as if caught in a vortex, he gave quite the start. But when a one-eyed woman cloaked in black materialized from thin air and knelt before him, he quickly lowered his guard.

He did not move as Melina settled beside him, did not turn to meet her piercing gaze. If anything, he seemed to shy away from her, shifting in his thorny armor.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. The silence was heavier than the furrow etched into Melina's brow. When her warrior spoke, she pursed her lips in an effort to keep still.

"So this is it, then?" he said. His helmed gaze was trained firmly on the dim, yet roiling, flame of the Forge. He did not look away. "This is where it ends for you?"

She tilted her head as her lips barely parted in a bewildered grimace. She hesitated a moment before giving her answer.

"Do not grieve for me," she urged. "All of this is as it was meant to be."

Ash chuckled mirthlessly. Shaking his head, he let out a bitter breath.

"Just another soul to fuel the fire?" he said. His weary voice crackled like the flame waiting below. "Another companion fallen at my feet?"

"… I don't understand," Melina professed. "Why do you grieve for me?"

"Because I tire of everyone around me dying!" Ash retorted with a reproachfulness that made Melina pull back just a bit. "Since the beginning, the whole world has ordained me the one to bring an end to the apocalypse! Twice over!"

His shoulders sagged. He sighed.

"And yet, when I reach out to touch those in need, they all inevitably walk the same path—a path that you, too, have been set upon, it seems."

For the first time since she'd knelt beside him, he turned his head to face her. She could see nothing underneath that dark steel visor of his. The cold, angry stare of the helm fixed her in a death glare, but the voice that emanated from it was rueful and resigned.

"'Tis as if I am simply another of many plagues that infect this land," he muttered. Melina shook her head.

"Death is indiscriminate," she assured him. "You offered a last glimmer of respite to those who had already met their end."

She leaned closer.

"We are here at this very moment to ensure such unfortunate souls will never meet those fates again," she rallied. Slowly, tentatively, she reached forwards and placed a delicate hand on his arm. The iron thorns pricked at her, but she paid it no mind.

"This land is in dire need of repair," she proclaimed. "You are that reparation. We are that reparation. But one more sacrifice must be made."

Her hand squeezed, further digging the thorns into her skin.

"One," she repeated, in a voice that was just noticeably harder than before. "And then no more. This is the final step before you may take the Elden Throne. You must be ready."

Ash's helm fell towards his feet. Melina kept her one eye locked upon him, her hand tightening on his arm. She felt for her beaten Lord. Truly, she did. But this had to happen. The Erdtree needed to burn. And for such a great specimen to take alight, there had to be kindling.

A low chuckle caught Melina off guard. She blinked at Ash, whose shoulders stiffly twitched with his laughter.

"So willing to cast aside all that is holy, all for the sake of my triumph," he muttered. "So much like her…"

Melina's shoulders hunched. So many times he'd spoken only vaguely of her. She had no name, no face, that Melina knew, but Ash spoke of her so fondly. Who was she? Who—

"Alright," Ash murmured, wrenching Melina out of her thoughts. "One more."

His helm lifted to meet her gaze.

"One more, and then there will be hope," he proclaimed. The slightest nod was sent Melina's way.

"I'm ready," he told her.

The kindling maiden almost smiled.

"Very well," she said. "Let my hand rest upon you, for but a moment."

Ash silently uncurled an arm and brought it forwards. His hand held itself before her, balled up in a loose fist. Melina reached out to touch his palm as his fingers began to uncurl, but in a motion that gave a slight gnarl to her expression, the knight paused, then retracted his hand.

"Melina," he murmured. "Before we bid farewell—may I ask you something?"

She wanted to say no, at first. But that was merely her anticipation gnawing at her. Biting her tongue, she gave a small nod.

"What is it?" she asked.

"You have been with me every step of the way," Ash remarked. "You have been the one to turn the runes I scavenge into strength. You bequeathed to me Torrent's ring, and the Rold Medallion that unlocked the route to this very precipice. All in the interest of restoring the Golden Order."

Ash paused. "But… I will do no such thing. You—You know this, Melina. You know that Marika is not my queen. When I sit upon the Elden Throne, the very moon that shines down on us now will reign over this land. You watched as I placed the ring on Ranni's finger. The writ has been sealed. The Golden Order is nearing its end."

Melina stared intently at Ash as he paused. She already knew where this was going. Still, though, she let him finish.

"And yet, still you lend your hand? You bound more runes to my flesh. You continued to bolster my strength. Blast, you came to Malenia in her time of need, for my sake. Malenia, the Haligtree's own!… Even now, at the brink of ruin, you would so readily cast your body into the fire, and burn the Erdtree to the ground."

The knight shook his head, befuddled. "Why?" he finally asked. "Why help me, still?"

Melina leaned back. Her hands came to rest on her folded knees.

"I was created with but one purpose," she replied. "To burn away the impenetrable thorns. To grant entrance into the Erdtree. For one such as you. That purpose remains."

"… And what have you to gain, if not the restoration of the Golden Order?"

"My purpose was given to me by my mother," Melina conceded, "but now I act of my own volition. I burn, in the name of the world I would have."

"I see. And is that world the same that I envision?"

"… I don't know," Melina murmured.

Ash was quiet for many moments after. Melina sat and watched him with equal stoicism. It gave her heart unrest, she reflected, admitting the uncertainty of her vision aloud. But truly, the man who knelt before her now was her greatest hope in all the Lands Between.

"Malenia." The name made Melina tilt her head. Ash's gaze was aimed towards his chest, where a single hand rested.

"The needle sequestered in her flesh—the relief it brings her is impermanent," he said. "I… I fear that after all my efforts, I may yet again fail alongside that needle."

Malenia gazed upon him for but a moment longer before her gaze drifted to the glowing center of the forge.

"The needle is incomplete," she observed. "Should it mature, it may have the strength to meet the measure of the Scarlet Rot. But that could take centuries, or millennia."

The embers of the forge bubbled and burst like lava. It seemed to have gotten just a bit livelier in the presence of the two vagabonds.

"If you wish to make a cure of it, you would need to cheat time itself," she concluded.

Ash sighed.

"Timebending…" he muttered. "Of course."

He leaned back. "Well, for once in our life, let us be optimistic," he exhaled. "Such a span is a time to which Malenia ought to be accustomed."

He shifted, sitting up straighter.

"I have faith she and Miquella will devise a plan of sorts," he said. He shook his head.

"I… have nothing left to say to you," he announced. "And so, I suppose it is time."

Melina leaned towards him.

"Then you are prepared?" she said. "To commit a cardinal sin?"

Ash nodded. "I am ready," he affirmed. "Thank you, Melina, for guiding me here."

"Thank you," she replied. Solemnly, she reached her hand out once more. This time, the Tarnished did not hesitate. He extended his mail-covered arm, uncurled his hand, and laid the cold, wet fabric of his glove upon Melina's fingers—and as soon as he did, an image exploded in her mind.

She had no idea how a scene so dark could be so disorienting. As her eyes adjusted, however, a form began to take shape behind them: In the moribund light, she saw a face. That of a woman, long blonde hair cinched to her head by an ornate metal blindfold affixed to her temples. Her pale skin was scuffed and caked with soot, and her slender jaw stretched hard and taught in a silent gasp. From her gaping mouth, a single trickle of fresh cherry blood spilled over the corner and trailed down her dirty, ashen cheek. The woman's head lay in a pile of old ash, cold and devoid of cinder. Melina was kneeling over the woman's silently-screaming face, hands splayed on either side of her—only, she realized, they were not her hands at all. They were large, and unilaterally armor-clad; one sported a sleek metal gauntlet, while the other was wrapped in simple strips of leather.

The unarmored hand, completely independent of Melina's control, reached up to graze the woman's twisted face. Whoever knelt over her, whoever's eyes through which Melina gazed, shook so violently that the woman's face seemed to vibrate in Melina's field of view. The moment their trembling fingertips alighted upon the woman's face, they lit up in a searing, yet pitiful, blaze. At once, hot pain was sent through Melina's own hand, the very one that her Tarnished gently held.

Her eyes flew open. The real world rushed in to meet her. With a short, pained gasp, she fell away from Ash's hand. She landed on her backside, hands plunging into the cold hard stone of the lip of the forge to hold herself steady.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Her breaths came in small, ragged gasps. Eyes wide, the first thing she took note of was Ash. He'd stood up, hand held close to his bosom, clearly alarmed by Melina's upset.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Melina stared blankly at him for a moment before awkwardly shuffling to a less undignified position.

"Wha…" she breathed. "What was that?"

Ash craned his neck towards her. "What was what?"

"I-I saw… I saw the face of a blind woman, enwreathed in darkness. Dirty. Dying. And… a hand, reaching to touch her face, only to be set ablaze."

Ash leaned back. His arms folded tersely underneath his sternum. His masked gaze broke from Melina's and drifted off to the side, tilting down towards the roiling flame below. His shoulders hunched and he fell back onto one knee.

He said nothing. Melina's hand, still throbbing with pain and balled up against her chest, hesitantly reached towards him.

"Who… was that?" she demanded, hoarsely. "What did I see?"

Ash did not reply at first. He kept his hidden eyes trained intently on the flame of the forge. When he finally answered, his voice was low and grave.

"You saw her," he answered.

Without another word, he let his arm fall away from his chest and held it out to Melina once more. Her gaze flicked from him down to her own outreaching hand and then back again.

Her…

Had she infiltrated Ash's memory by mistake? Was that his hand that had erupted into flame upon the woman's skin? A million questions raced through Melina's mind at the prospect. What happened to her? What about her set Ash ablaze? Where had he burned that could be so horribly dark?

Just who was this man? Who was she?

Melina closed her eyes. Her jaw, having hung half-open in her shock, closed and hardened. Her teeth grit, and a tight inhale filtered through them. She held that breath for a good long moment, and let it out as slowly as she could.

Whatever vision had violated her eyes—it was in the distant past, now. It was a world that did not concern her. Harrowing though it may have been, she could not let it distract her from her duties in this vital moment. Stiffly, Melina brought her hand to Ash's. This needed to happen. It—

Her hand rested upon Ash's for just a split second. And in that blink of an eye, she was yanked punitively back to where she knelt over that same batteredface. The light was even dimmer, now, all but extinguished; even so, she could see that the woman's gasping features had fallen slack and her head slumped like deadweight to the side. Her blonde hair trailed slick and matted with blood. She was dead.

In her mind, Ash lifted his head to the sky—a sky that was as black as a void. Devoid of any moon, and not a single twinkling star in sight. Nothing but a choking, impenetrable darkness, one unlike any other. The only light that granted Melina eyes was Ash's own hands, now both burning brightly as he raised them to the sky… and unleashed a bloodcurdling scream. It vibrated Melina's skull and sent her stomach turning from the sickening cacophony carried behind it. Layers upon layers of agony, tearing through her Tarnished's vocal cords, left her own throat feeling dry and raw. Caught somewhere between an animalistic howl and a wailing, keening lamentation, it was one of the most painful sounds Melina had ever heard, echoing plaintively through the darkest night she'd ever seen.

Melina felt sick. She could not bear this atrocious vision. With a protestful growl, she flinched away from Ash once more. Her hand felt as if it, too, had been lit aflame. The fingers on her other limb grasped the incensed appendage and gingerly grazed over her smooth, undamaged palm, which she gazed intently at with grimacing eyes.

When she dared to look up, however, she realized that she had, indeed, not been the one to have caught like kindling.

Ash knelt there, in the exact same pose he'd held when Melina had touched him. Now, however, the hand that had connected with hers was shrouded in a small, but growing, fire. As the flames began to lick along the sides of his gauntlet, the knight seemed to finally register its presence. Slowly, as if dazed, he brought his hand up to the visor of his helm.

A knowing, satisfied sigh left his chest.

"Ah…" he hummed. "Ignition at last."

Wait. Ignition? Melina's eyes trained themselves upon the flame creeping up Ash's arm… and after a moment's thought, flew open with horror.

No. It couldn't be. It couldn't!

Melina scrambled to her feet. Her heart skipped a beat. Her lips suddenly felt dry. Her stomach did somersaults in her belly.

"Ash!" she cried. The knight looked at her and tilted his head.

"Y-You've…" Melina's voice cracked. She grit her teeth and let a shrill whine.

"You've inherited the Frenzied Flame?" she whispered.

Ash chuckled. His gaze moved back to his burning hand. The flames were up to his elbow now, and the speed at which they moved along his arm was rapidly growing.

"Not at all, dear friend," he said, in an eerily calm, confident tone that did not befit the troubled warrior. "Not at all."

The fire was up to his shoulder now. Ash watched it spread quietly, head tilted as if curious of the raze that hungrily engulfed his arm. Melina took a step back. His denial almost didn't register with her at first, and the horror that churned through her gut made her next words raspy.

"Th-Then… what manner of flame is this!?"

"Mine."

A new ignition sprung up from his other hand as the first crept across his neck. His helm pulled away from his burning body and rested upon Melina for a single heartbeat. His eyes had always been invisible from behind his shadowy faceplate, but in that moment, Melina saw two orange pinpricks of light shining from the depths of his visor. They smoldered like embers, and burned a hole in Melina's soul.

And then, the moment passed. Ash stood up, lifting his gaze to the golden light that shone down upon them. The Erdtree towered high overhead, even here at the throat of the world, and Ash rose to meet it. He seemed oblivious to the flames that were spreading all across his abdomen now, but when the dim glow from the center of the forge suddenly brightened, he reached for it with a single hand. Melina's gaze snapped to the Fell Flame. The pitiful coals huddled at the bottom of the great chamber had shifted. The little sparks that sputtered from the forge's dying heart had changed. Now, Melina could see true fringes of fire taking shape in the heart of the cauldron.

"Long have I journeyed." Ash's voice stole Melina's attention. He stared down at the growing Flame of Ruin, as the fire that covered his own body now fully engulfed every inch of him. The thorn-clad knight resembled a walking pyre now, a living effigy—and the brightness of the blaze only grew with the one in the forge below.

"This world beckoned me," Ash went on. "An outsider. It called me forth, in the name of glory. But this wretched land is bereft of such splendor. Heroes are but fables, now. All that remains is a withered, fragmented people… and their desolate ruler."

The fires of the forge were reaching higher. They swirled as they climbed, curling tighter and tighter around each other, until they formed a single thread of flame, a thread that drifted up towards Ash's burning hands. The Tarnished held them together, cupping them as the Flame of Ruin nestled in his palms.

"A ruler that loves not. A ruler that seeks not Order, but control."

The same thread that swirled in Ash's hands rose again. It grew and grew as an incandescent needle, rising straight up to the sky, where the Erdtree's canopy waited.

"A ruler that would see man toil, hapless and powerless, until the end of time… No more. I stand before thee today and I tell thee: No more!"

Ash's voice rose with the blaze. Orange tongues crept up the sides of the colossal forge as, high above them, the Flame of Ruin touched the Erdtree's leaves.

"Thou shalt bear witness to humanity's will! By the power vested in me as this flame's bastard Lord, thou shalt feel, at long last, the searing conflagration of revolution upon thy kingdom!"

Ash lifted his hands to the sky. The forge was roaring now; Melina could hardly hear his voice over the raging bonfire below.

"Erdtree! I command thee…"

Ash's hands spread apart. He held his arms aloft, raised high to the sky, as the golden branches above began to take on an eerie orange hue.

"Burn."

Ash exploded into flames. A sound like an entire forest catching fire scorched Melina's ears. She cried out in pain and stumbled backwards, shielding her face from the blistering heat that surged outwards from the pyre of a knight before her. The distraught maiden squeezed her eyes shut and flinched away from the blaze, but behind her eyelids, a new spectacle awaited.

The face of that woman shone in her mind's eye, clear as day. This time, however, there was no blood, no soot—nothing marred her fine, fair face as she stared with a firm, fixed expression straight at her.

Not at Ash. At her. At Melina.

Fire surrounded her features, the same fire that sprung from her skin when Ash laid his hands upon her dying body. With a single hand that burned the same way the Tarnished burned at this very moment, she reached out towards Melina. The inferno on her fingers licked at her skin. She rested her hand on Melina's cheek.

And then, the heat faded.

Melina's eyes inched open. In a moment that she hadn't quite registered, the painful inferno that had set upon her skin ceased. Jolting upright, Melina unshielded her face and gazed frantically upon Ash.

Only, he was gone.

The fiery warrior had disappeared. Up and vanished. Around her, the only fires that continued to rage were those of the rolling, roiling forge at her feet… and the crackling leaves and branches far overhead. The Flame of Ruin had been unleashed. The Erdtree had been set ablaze.

Melina's heart hammered in her chest. What… what was that? What infernal power had Ash drawn from his bosom?

It was not the Flame of Frenzy. In that, she felt sure. She had seen what that wretched corruption did to its Lords, and it certainly wasn't… that. But what it could have possibly been, she hadn't the foggiest idea.

From the corner of her eye, a flash stole Melina's gaze. She snapped her head around to fix her stare upon the heart of the forge, where her eye had been caught by… something. Something small, and delicate, but which shone yet brighter than the embers that surrounded it.

A small, mistlike sprite seeped forth from the cracks between the coals of the forge, coalescing some feet above the burning pit. Melina stared at it with wide eyes as it rose from the great cauldron… and began to float towards her.

Instinct overtook her, and she held her hands out over the edge of the forge. The sprite fell into her cupped palms with a feathery lightness, and she retracted her arms away from the churning flames. Bringing the thing close to her chest, she stared transfixed at it. It thrummed with life in a way that to her felt not at all unlike the rune shards that she would use to grant her Tarnished warrior fabled strength.

As Melina took in the feeling of this sprite's vitality, something stirred in her. A soft gasp issued from her lungs. The tiny thing she held in her palms right now… it was speaking to her, in a voice that did not use words.

Close your eyes.

Melina hesitated as the fragment of life within her grasp swirled and twinkled up at her. Gingerly, however, she obeyed, and behind her lids, that same blonde girl's face sprang up in front of her. Her hand rested gently on Melina's cheek, as the last of the flames that lapped at her skin faded away. She stared blankly at the kindling maiden, expression unreadable behind that regal blindfold of hers.

Melina's eyes flew open. Her breath hitched in her throat. She stared with mouth agape down at the sprite in her hands. All at once, in a flash of stunning revelation, she understood what she now held.

The one thing Ash had refused to burn.

Her.