The last time Nokron had seen the surface, it was covered in snow.

To embrace Death, one must confront it in its domain. A landscape where Death enveloped the world and fighting it was futile.

Thus was the initiation ritual for a priest of the Death Rite. A winter spent away from any help or comfort, with naught but the clothes on their back. Few trees could fight the freezing snow, and no bird could fly in the chill wind. Not even the acolytes themselves could live in this waste.

Too many had attempted the ritual, only to desperately fight the cold. In the face of Death, their fears had overtaken them. They proved their true loyalties, seeking life even as they claimed to serve Death. But Death comes for all.

Only those who accepted their mortality became priests. When it was Nokron's time to partake in the ritual, he had wandered in the cold for hours, until he could feel nothing, and the strength of his legs failed him. Everything in his body begged him to keep going. Find a cave and start a fire. Even shiver to live just a second longer.

But Nokron refused. And in refusing life, Death granted it to him.

The keepers of the ghostflame were the Deathbirds. They were majestic creatures that stoked the flames of Death and protected them from all who sought to disturb them. Only when one's will aligned with Death, did they show themselves to mortals.

And in the snow, Nokron saw one. A majestic bird larger than anything he had ever seen, its black feathers defying sense as they glowed with darkness. Even though his vision was blurred, he knew Death had chosen him. The bird spread ghostflame around him. It was cold even in Nokron's numb limbs, but it gave Nokron the strength his body was lacking. The Deathbird did not speak, yet Nokron understood anyway. He rose on his frozen legs defying all forces that sought to end him.

What followed, Nokron only remembered in a haze. Learning to summon the Mark of Death from the bird. Gazing at the bird with awe at its dignified shape. Seeing the intelligence in its raven eyes. And forging the contract that would see him returned to the Deathbird's wings in everlasting pious service once his lease on life had ended.

To seal the contract, the Deathbird conjured a spear made of ghostflame and gifted it to Nokron. It also served as a test, for if the acolyte failed to hold the flame and control it, then they lacked the devotion and piety to serve Death.

Such a fate did not await Nokron.

Centuries later, not even a patch of snow could be seen in Limgrave. Nor of the Death that Nokron had witnessed. The Erdtree corrupted all around it now, making all reject Death's cold embrace. Even to those who wanted it.

Mortal beings seldom fared well when confronted with the unnatural lifespan the Erdtree gave them. Without a purpose, most became like the Nox, hedonists awaiting blessings from the Erdtree. Others served the demigods and their Golden Order, their faith nourishing their minds.

But all Nokron had was Death. Was he truly a priest of Death, now that the Rite was rejected by all? Even if his mind could survive such destitution, Nokron had no wish to remain. He could not even grant himself Death. Death did not need a crippled servant.

Nokron knelt before a cliff overlooking the ravine. It was night, but one could hardly tell. The Erdtree shone so bright that the sky hardly changed when the sun set, promising to all that it would never let them be without it.

Nokron wanted no part of it. He knelt and produced a curved obsidian dagger. Looking at the shambles of the Settlement below, the priest recalled the many times he'd used the blade in imploring Death to hasten the end of those in suffering.

He placed a hand on the slender blade and ran it across the edge, coating it in a brown resin. Resin cut from the Erdtree.

Though forbidden by the Golden Order, Nokron had kept a small amount on his person. One's being was taken by the roots of the Erdtree and born anew. But the resin was separated from the tree. It would claim Nokron's being but could never transfer it. It was the closest to Death Nokron could hope to be.

He knelt and raised the blade above himself unceremoniously. Death was not coming to claim him. There was no place for dignity. There was no place for him at all.

"A dark deed under dim stars. Is it fate that guideth thee to this, or plain lunacy?"

The blade froze in Nokron's hand. He had not expected to encounter anyone here. Much less someone that did not belong to the Golden Order.

When he turned around, he saw a young woman, dressed in a thick white coat and long skirt. A pointed white hat hid her face, red locks of hair falling behind her. She was an ice witch from the Mountaintops of the Giants, where snow still fell.

"I haven't seen your kind in ages," Nokron assumed calmness as he rose to his feet. "Is your magic not locked away in the Forbidden Lands?"

"'Tis locked away yes, but not necessarily forbidden." She eyed the blade. "That, however, is something that the Golden Order would not look kindly upon. Where didst thou acquire the resin? The whole of Leyndell would fall into disarray if even a drop made it to the capital."

"And what is it to you? Since when do ice witches perform the Golden Order's bidding?"

"It matters not how thou say it." The witch sounded young, hardly more than a girl. "But I need not deliver their punishment. I only require thy service."

Nokron had said that as a taunt, but the witch did serve the Golden Order after all. "You should know that I am a servant of Death. I serve none other than it. Be on your way."

"Then relinquish the blade, and thou may be on thy way instead." The witch spoke with quiet arrogance. Her voice reminded Nokron of snow. Soft at a glance but cold when touched. "I have been too patient with thee. Accept this last mercy."

For Nokron, there was no mercy he sought except that of Death. Though his dignity was sparse, he would not allow the Golden Order to take this escape away.

Nokron did not break eye contact, even as he grabbed the dagger with both hands and thrust it toward his heart.

But the witch's hand moved faster. A ray of frost surged from it, slowing Nokron's movements to a halt. By the time he managed to move away from the gust, he could hardly feel his hands and unwillingly dropped the blade to the ground.

"Death is forbidden to thee, priest," the witch declared as she moved to take the dagger. "Return to whence you came. Thy fate has been fulfilled."

With sensation returning to his arms, Nokron stretched out his hand and drew the Mark with practiced swiftness. A rancor of spirits manifested before him, appearing as ghostly skulls radiating a dark and deep aura. They cried in whispers and charged at the witch. Her eyes were wide with shock, less in surprise and more in insult at the audacity of the priest.

It wasn't common for priests of Death to fight, rather accepting whatever came to them, knowing that Death would eventually emerge triumphant. But they were not without tools. Ghostflame itself was their strongest weapon. Sometimes the spirits of those who were burned persisted until raked out by the Deathbirds. However, those who did not achieve vengeance before their death were left to protect the flame and its servants.

Nokron picked up his dagger once more. The witch dissipated most of the spirits with her freezing magic, but some did touch her. Upon contact, ghostflame ignited on her.

"I had thought that this would be my last rite and I its only receiver," Nokron said as he stood back up. The witch adjusted her clothing, wrapping it around her for more heat. She surprised him. Most tried to put out the cold flames even as its chill claimed their flesh, rather than maintain their warmth until the fire faded on its own. "But if you insist on opposing Death, I will ordain this simulation of it to you first."

The witch's mouth was agape. "You truly are shameless! None shall go unpunished for insulting… an ice witch." She angrily stomped her foot forward, and shards of ice emerged from the ground towards Nokron.

The priest, now prepared, dodged them carefully. Though the witch continued her assault, Nokron had enough time to draw the Mark on the ground. The grass caught fire instantly, spreading ghostflame around the witch in a circle. She paused for only a moment, before continuing to attack through the harmless flames, but it gave Nokron just enough time. He drew the Mark once more and raised his hand.

The flames dimmed and dwindled but released a misty smoke that covered the girl like a fog. Had she been as wise as Nokron expected, she would have run away the moment she saw it. But instead, the witch continued to stomp wildly in random directions, the priest no longer in her sight. Eventually, the shards of ice became less and less frequent. When the fog cleared up, the witch had fallen to the ground, shivering at the cold around her. A soft chime rang out from her coat.

"Ghostflame can touch even the heart of an ice witch, it seems," Nokron remarked, approaching the girl with the dagger at the ready. "Rejoice as you accept the closest gift resembling Death."

Nokron raised the blade high above the witch, but a moment before bringing it down, he caught something in the corner of his eye. Something moving too fast.

He turned. It was a wolf. One that in the next second tackled him, knocking him down as the dagger fell away from his hands once more. Nokron rolled away from the wolf and assessed the beast. The wolf was not a living one. It was a spirit. Translucent and ethereal, it shifted and flickered as it circled Nokron.

The chime once again came from the witch who had now recovered. The wolf turned into mist and disappeared. Nokron set his sights on the girl once more.

But it was too late. A roar made Nokron turn his head behind him, to see a massive troll materialize out of thin air. Despite the priest's best attempt to escape, the spirit lurched forward and pinned the him to the ground.

As Nokron struggled to break free, the witch dusted off her coat and put away a ringing bell. "It has been some time since I've felt such a chill." She picked up the blade, inspecting it closer. "I sense that same chill from this blade. I have gotten what was promised to me by fate. What am I to do with thee?"

Nokron didn't respond. He'd accepted that the troll's grip was unbreakable. It was unbecoming of him to show urgency in any matter.

"No response?" the witch mused. "My spirit requires no food or sleep, and I possess the magic to keep him here indefinitely."

"Then I will accept it as a form of Death, as close as I was able to achieve." Nokron took a deep breath before he continued. "You're not an ice witch are you?"

"A bold accusation. But I'll humor thee. Why doest thou think so?"

"Your ice magic was powerful, but you only got the upper hand with your spirits. When your wolf pushed me back, you could have blasted me with your ice. You trusted your life to your spirits instead."

"Such arrogance," the girl clicked her tongue. "Tell me then. Who dost thou think I am?"

"You're the one summoned by Godwyn and the Golden Order, to turn the unburned into spirits. Ranni, daughter of Rennala."

The girl took a step back. "Perhaps there is more to thee than I thought. But thine haste has sealed thy fate."

"Will you seek to once again interfere with Death?"

"I am the Lunar Princess Ranni, and I will do as I will," the girl declared boldly. "Though thou knowest that already. I do not know how thou were able to unravel my disguise, but I cannot allow thee to leave with that knowledge."

Nokron scoffed. "If you did not want my interference, all you had to do was let that dagger be buried in my flesh." Desperation left a bitter taste in Nokron's mouth. "If you wish you can do that yourself now."

"Is there no limit to thy audacity? Fate guided me here. To find a tool in my quest to subvert the Golden Order. So the stars say, and a blade that hosts a blasphemous death could very well be it."

The girl… was going against the Golden Order. Nokron was curious, but he was a priest of Death in the end. Even in defeat, detachment was necessary.

"If only they spoke of what I must do with thee," the girl pondered.

The skies had an answer for the princess after all. A star in the sky flared, becoming brighter and brighter. It was flying towards them, disturbing the quiet of the night with a shrill. Nokron had never seen one so close, not even before the Erdtree blocked the heavens.

As the falling star came closer, the moon appeared in the sky. It made no sense. Few had ever seen it since the Erdtree, and it most certainly could not just magically appear. But all the same, it was there. It was different from how Nokron remembered it, surrounded by a dark aura.

It then disappeared as fast as it had come, and the falling star landed in the ravine. The earth shook and rocks spewed. Though the site of its fall was outside the view of Nokron, he'd lived in the ravine long enough to know its layout. The star struck the outskirts of the Settlement. He pondered if it would've been better if it had struck him and the witch instead.

"I see," the girl remarked as if responding to someone. "The fates have been kind to thee, priest. What I seek is there. And it is thy fate to help me obtain it."


Author's Notes: I hope you enjoyed the story's development and the introduction of a new character. I appreciate the reads on this book so far, and hope to keep you engaged to the end. The positive reception so far brings me joy, and I shall endeavor to deliver on your expectations. The next chapter should also be out within a week, maybe even less.