Chapter 2 Awakening in Limgrave
Harry awoke with a start once more, now in a deserted cathedral. The walls seemed to be crumbling as he gathered himself and tried to remember what had happened. The underground cathedral stretched out before Harry like a canvas of desolation. Once a realm of grandeur and nobility, it now lay in ruins, the remnants of its past glory overshadowed by the creeping darkness. As Harry traversed through the broken architecture, he could not help but be struck by a sense of profound sadness. The scenes of destruction were hauntingly familiar, reminiscent of the aftermath of the battles against Voldemort's forces.
Crumbling turrets and shattered stained-glass windows were testaments to the region's decline. Cobblestone caverns, once bustling with life, now echoed with the sound of Harry's footsteps, the only sign of movement in this world of decay. As he walked, his fingers brushed against the rough surface of a cracked stone wall, his mind wandering to the halls of Hogwarts and the castle's warmth that he so dearly missed.
The sky above was an endless expanse of twilight, as if day and night had become indistinguishable. It cast a gloomy hue over the landscape, emphasizing the desolation that surrounded him. But even amid the ruin, glimmers of life persisted. Stray flowers pushed through the cracks in the cobblestones, a testament to nature's enduring resilience.
Harry's thoughts were interrupted as a low growl reached his ears. He turned his gaze to the source of the sound, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword. Emerging from the shadows were a few knights, their forms twisted and grotesque. Their eyes glowed with an eerie light as they all lunged toward Harry.
With a practiced grace born from years of dueling, Harry swung his sword in a wide arc, the blade slicing through the air and striking one of the knights' sides. The clash was met with a howl of pain, but the knight was far from defeated. It lunged again, its movements erratic and unpredictable. Harry's heart raced as he parried blow after blow, his focus narrowing to the rhythm of combat. With a decisive strike, he managed to land a solid blow, severing one of the creature's limbs. It crumpled to the ground, its body convulsing before finally succumbing to death. The other two knights tried to rush at Harry, who dodged their blows while maneuvering them across a thin bridge. Avoiding another sword strike that would have decapitated him, Harry cast a high-powered 'Depulso' that launched the two knights from the bridge to the depths below.
Breathing heavily, Harry took a step back, his heart pounding in his chest. The battle had been intense, a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked in this world. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sheathed his sword, his gaze lingering on the fallen knights. It was a sobering reminder that darkness had seeped into every corner of this land.
As he continued his journey, Harry encountered more of these twisted knights. Each battle was a test of his combat skills, forcing him to adapt and strategize against their unpredictable movements. With every victory, he felt a sense of accomplishment, a reassurance that he was making a difference in this decaying world.
Amid the battles, Harry stumbled upon a dilapidated cathedral. The structure's towering spires had crumbled, but its beauty still shone through the wreckage. A sense of melancholy washed over him as he entered the shattered remains. Once, this place might have been a sanctuary, a refuge for worship and solace.
Among the rubble, he discovered a worn journal. The pages were yellowed and brittle, but the words on them were still legible. As he read, he learned about the last days of the cathedral, the struggles of those who had sought shelter within its walls, and the growing desperation as the darkness encroached.
The journal spoke of a prophecy, a belief that a chosen one would emerge to mend the Elden ring and restore the world to its former glory. The words resonated with Harry, reminding him of the roles he had played in his previous life – the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One. The parallels were impossible to ignore.
Leaving the cathedral behind, Harry continued his exploration, haunted by the journal's words. It was as if the past and present were intertwined, the echoes of history reaching out to guide him in his new role. The encounters with twisted creatures grew more frequent, their malevolence a constant reminder of the darkness that sought to consume everything.
But even in the midst of despair, glimmers of hope persisted. As Harry finally emerged from the cathedrals, he took in a breath-taking view of the world. Lush fields and verdant grasses stretched out in front of him for miles. In front of him, he spotted a Site of Lost Grace, enshrined by a small stump of roots. Sighing with relief, Harry settled himself in front of the Site of Grace for a moment's respite. After taking a few minutes to gather himself, he clambered back to his feet and spotted a tall man wearing white surgeon's clothing all over his body and a white mask hiding his features.
As he moved closer to the man, the man turned to him and smiled "Oh yes... Tarnished, are we? Come to the Lands Between for the Elden Ring, hmm? Of course, you have. No shame in it. Unfortunately for you, however, you are maidenless. Without guidance, without the strength of runes, and without an invitation to the Roundtable Hold...
You are fated, it seems, to die in obscurity."
Harry snorted at the man "I am no Tarnished. I did not follow Lord Godfrey into exile. I was merely born into this world after dying. And what do you mean about me being maidenless? And who are you?"
The man bowed with a flourish "I am White Mask Varre and I am the herald of the Demigod Mogh, Lord of Blood. And thou are a Tarnished, for thou have been reborn in this world to mend the Elden Ring and become Elden Lord. It does not matter if thou were a follower of the first Elden Lord or not. Thou are maidenless as you are not accompanied by a finger maiden, who will guide you on the path to the Elden Ring and help you in increasing your strength. Do you follow me, weak Tarnished?"
"So far yes" Harry sceptically retorted.
"Luckily for you, however, there is one shining ray of hope for even the maidenless. Me. Varré. Take care to listen. Are you familiar with grace? The golden light that gives life to you Tarnished. You may also behold its golden rays pointing in a particular direction at times. That is the guidance of grace. The path that a Tarnished must travel. Mm, indeed. Grace's guidance holds the answers. It will lead you Tarnished to the path you are meant to follow. Even if it leads you to your grave."
"That fills me up with a lot of hope" Harry said with a grimace as he eyed the golden rays of the site of grace he had rested at pointing towards a distant church.
"Aye, Grace's guidance will reveal the path forward, most certainly. To Castle Stormveil, over on the cliff. The home of the decrepit demigod, Godrick the Grafted" Varre pointed towards a vast grey castle looming in the distance as he continued "It is time you set off, I should think. To Castle Stormveil, on the cliff, where grace would guide you. If you seek the Elden Ring, maidenless as you are."
Harry's acknowledgment came in the form of a nod, his gaze shifting from the enigmatic words Varre had just uttered towards the distant castle. Rays of grace painted the landscape, and Harry's eyes followed their trajectory. Contemplating his next steps, he resolved to head for the church, which stood as a beacon in the distance. Negotiating the descent down the hill with care, his determination remained unwavering until a sudden disruption shattered his tranquillity.
A colossal figure, mounted and adorned in gleaming gold armour, barrelled into him without warning, knocking Harry off his feet. The impact left him dazed and jarred, contemplating the relentless dangers that seemed endemic to this world. Shaking off his disorientation, Harry barely managed to evade a cleaving swing of a menacing halberd, a weapon that could easily bisect him. His heart raced as he scrambled to increase the distance between himself and the relentless knight, who seemed poised to launch another assault.
Summoning his inner strength, Harry channelled his magical prowess into a potent incantation.
"Sectumsempra."
The words carried power, the embodiment of the Half-Blood Prince's most lethal spell. The arcane energy surged from his outstretched hand, aimed at the armoured foe. A grim determination etched on his face, Harry watched as the spell bore down on its target, only to meet the resilient resistance of a golden shield. The shield absorbed the impact, albeit not without cost, as its once-impenetrable surface now lay split in twain. Unfazed, the knight discarded the damaged shield halves, poised for yet another aggressive onslaught.
Harry maintained his composure, retreating further from the approaching adversary. An opportunity materialized, and with calculated precision, he transfigured the remnants of the shattered shield into formidable spears. The first spear found its mark, piercing the air where the knight once stood, while the second spear caught the knight's right shoulder, propelling him forcefully into a nearby tree. The impact was resounding, as the knight became impaled upon the bark.
In a breathless pause, the scene hung in the balance. With a gasp, Harry swiftly launched a second "Sectumsempra" incantation, severing the knight's head from his shoulders in a swift, decisive movement. As the lifeless body crumpled to the ground, the wild expanse seemed to hold its breath, bearing witness to this otherworldly duel.
The aftermath bore an unexpected transformation. The knight's corporeal form dissolved, transmuting into a fine mist that emanated a shimmering golden hue. This ethereal substance surged towards Harry, enveloping him in its radiant embrace. The experience was transcendent, a fusion of power and enlightenment that coursed through his being, leaving him invigorated and fortified.
Amidst the open wilderness, Harry stood transformed, his gaze fixated upon the dissipating mist that once embodied the formidable knight. The eldritch encounter had altered him, infusing him with newfound strength and an air of mystique. The landscape, once merely a backdrop, had now become an arena of both peril and wonder, inviting him to navigate its enigmas with a newfound understanding of the magic that coursed through it. He had faced darkness before, and he was prepared to face it again. The lands between had become his battlefield now, each step a testament to his commitment to mend the Elden Ring.
And so, with sword in hand and a heart full of resolve, Harry pressed on towards the church. The battles would be fierce, the challenges daunting, but he was driven by the memories of his past and the hope for a brighter future. In a world on the brink of collapse, he was determined to be the spark that would push back the darkness.
As he ventured into the church, Harry encountered another singular person. Apart from another site of grace, he spotted a small man clad in red and white clothing, sitting against a pillar. His clothes reminded him of Santa Claus as he slowly approached him. Upon spotting Harry, the man gave him a welcoming smile and waved him forward.
"You are a Tarnished, I can see it. And I can also see... That you are not after my throat. Then why not purchase a little something? I am Kale, Purveyor of fine goods. Welcome to the Church of Elleh."
"I am Harry Potter" Harry offered "And I do not have any coin with me to purchase your wares, I am afraid."
"Not to worry, Harry Potter. For I saw you kill that giant knight from this Church, and you absorbed a lot of runes, I am sure."
"Runes?"
"Aye" Kale nodded "Every time you defeat an enemy in the lands between, you absorb the very runes their bodies hold. These runes function as currency in our world. Check your pockets, my dear Tarnished, for I am sure you will find some Runes to buy my wares."
Doing as told, Harry was surprised to find gold coins in his pockets. Holding a few out to Kale, Harry bought a Telescope, a few throwing daggers, and some chain armour.
"Kale, who are you?"
Kale peered at Harry and then slowly spoke "I am a member of a proud and ancient nomadic clan, a wandering soul whose livelihood is woven into the tapestry of the lands I traverse. With each step I take, I offer my wares to those I encounter, a humble merchant who carries not just goods, but stories and traditions passed down through generations. Our way of life, much like the wind that sweeps across the ever-changing landscape, remains unbound by the constraints of a stationary existence. Yet, as I journey across the vast expanse, it becomes evident that the world we once knew has been cast into a shadow of its former self. The once-vibrant realms have succumbed to a looming and unsettling madness, a dire consequence of the catastrophic event known as the shattering of the Elden Ring. This event, steeped in myth and mystery, has left an indelible mark upon the fabric of reality itself. The land now bears the scars of this calamity, its essence tainted by the malevolent forces unleashed upon it."
Harry listened to Kale's voice, resting at the Site of grace as he put on the chain armour and tucked in the telescope and the throwing daggers into his armour.
"In the wake of this cataclysmic upheaval", Kale continued "it is individuals like yourself, the Tarnished, who stand as beacons of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. Much like the landscape relies on the ebb and flow of rivers to sustain its vitality, the world now hinges upon the actions and choices of those like you who bear the burden of the Tarnish. You are the ones who, despite the odds stacked against you, continue to defy the encroaching despair, preventing the complete desolation of all that we hold dear. And so, dear traveller, consider yourself not merely a passer-by but a cherished ally. Your willingness to engage in the exchange of goods not only sustains me but also strengthens the tenuous connections that bind our shattered world together. Each transaction is a reminder that even in the face of overwhelming odds, individuals can make a difference, however small. As you peruse my offerings, know that you are more than a customer; you are a lifeline, a bridge between the past and the uncertain future that lies ahead. Your footsteps, alongside mine, leave imprints upon the soil that tell stories of our shared resilience. May our encounters continue to fuel the spark of hope that refuses to be extinguished, despite the madness that seeks to shroud our world in darkness."
"I am truly grateful, Kale," Harry expressed with a nod of appreciation. "Might you enlighten me about the route to Stormveil Castle?"
Kale's spindly arm extended, directing its bony finger to the left. "Embark in that direction, and ere long, you shall chance upon yet another Site of Grace. Beyond that juncture, your gaze shall be met by the presence of a contingent of Limgrave knights, encamped and vigilant, guarding the passage that leads to Stormveil Castle."
"Your guidance is deeply valued, Kale," Harry acknowledged, punctuating his gratitude with a respectful bow. With newfound clarity, he set forth on his intended path, the destination clear and the journey ahead promising its own share of challenges and discoveries.
He finally stumbled upon the remnants of a once-thriving village, now reduced to a ghostly memory. Empty homes stood as silent witnesses to lives that had been upended. Tattered banners bore the sigils of noble houses, now faded and forgotten. Among the ruins, he spotted the Limgrave knights guarding a gigantic pathway. Spotting a Site of Grace, he made his way to it and rested himself. He was startled when a fair skinned girl, materialised in front of him. She wore a black robe and had flowing red hair. As she approached Harry, he saw that her left eye was shut due to a scar, resembling the mark of a dagger.
"Salutations, weary Tarnished who has traversed realms veiled in mist. I am Melina, extending to you an invitation of mutual accord. Have whispers of the finger maidens reached your ears? These ethereal beings, devoted to the Two Fingers, bear the noble duty of bestowing guidance and succour upon those Tarnished souls who venture forth. Alas, I perceive an absence in your connection to such guiding spirits. I proffer myself as a surrogate, ready to emulate the role of the finger maiden. With the power to transmute rune fragments into tangible might, I offer this newfound strength to aid you in your unrelenting quest for the elusive Elden Ring. All that I ask is for you to allow me to accompany you, to journey by your side, and together arrive at the hallowed base of the Erdtree."
Harry deliberated upon the proposition, allowing a brief pause to hang in the air before he articulated his thoughts. "Lady Melina, your offer is undoubtedly one of great significance, and I find myself deeply touched by its generosity. However, I must inquire, is there any underlying caveat attached to this seemingly benevolent proposition?"
"Nay, all I ask is to accompany you as a companion to the base of the Erdtree at Leyndell, Royal Capital."
"Then, I accept your accord" Harry said, extending a hand to Melina who limply shook it before releasing it. "Where to, now?"
Melina pointed towards Stormveil castle "The minuscule, radiant aura of gold before you stands as a manifestation of the Erdtree's grace. This luminosity was once mirrored in the eyes of your fellow Tarnished, echoing with the resonance of shared purpose. Yet now, it remains as the sole beacon that illuminates your path, an embodiment of the guiding light that assists you in shouldering your weighty destiny. Perched upon the precipice, within the walls of Castle Stormveil, awaits a shardbearer. This being, a demigod, has inherited a fragment of the Elden Ring's shattered essence. If the radiant trails of grace point you towards this very castle, it is the Elden Ring itself that beckons to you, an irresistible call that transcends the boundaries of mere coincidence. As we stand united through our pact of alliance, I offer a prayer for your well-being. May you possess the fortitude, the unyielding strength required to confront the formidable trials that the Elden Ring shall lay before you."
Harry began to get up, but Melina spoke once more "Ah, but there is another topic that warrants discussion. Allow me to bestow upon you this ring, a token of my trust. With this enchanted ring, you will gain the ability to traverse vast expanses with remarkable swiftness. By invoking its magic, you shall summon forth a spectral steed, a magnificent creature known as Torrent. It is not by chance, but by a bond of fate, that Torrent has singled you out. In your interactions with this wondrous companion, I implore you to extend the utmost respect, for this alliance is a testament to the harmony between your soul and the very essence of Torrent."
Harry accepted the ring and slid it onto his left ring finger as he examined it. The ring was delicately crafted with gold. Raising it to his lips, he willed the horse to appear. In a whirl, a spectral steed appeared in front of him, neighing and stampeding. Harry approached the horse slowly, patting it on the nose and smiled at the snort of pleasure. Carefully clambering on, he offered a hand to Melina who shook her head.
"Your path should lead you back to the Church of Elleh, Tarnished. I sense a presence awaiting your return. And as for me, I shall remain by your side, an echo of your need. Just call upon me when the moment requires," Melina's voice resonated and then gently dissipated, leaving an ephemeral trace. As her words lingered, Harry shifted his attention, allowing Torrent to carry him toward the Church of Elleh. With a determined nudge, the steed surged forward, bridging the gap between them and their destination. The Church soon materialized before him, its worn walls bearing silent witness to his journey.
As he dismounted, a smile danced upon Harry's lips as Torrent seamlessly melted from his view, a testament to the fluid nature of the magic that bound them. Such feats were a testament to the remarkable power that flowed through this realm. His surroundings became the canvas upon which his perceptions were painted, each moment adorned with the artistry of enchantment.
His gaze swept the landscape, drinking in the familiar ambience of the Church of Elleh. The air was charged with an enigmatic energy, a subtle reminder that the threads of fate often wove intricate patterns even amidst the chaos. Yet, in his observations, the absence of Kale caught his attention. The air whispered tales of a departure, leaving behind the traces of a once-warm fire.
Yet, within this hushed atmosphere, a new presence emerged. A being of ethereal essence, their pale blue hue adorned with four arms and two visages. A creature whose very appearance defied the norms of the world Harry had known. Resting against the ancient walls of the Church, they beckoned to him as a harbinger of mysteries yet to be unveiled. "Step this way, Tarnished, if you would grant me a moment of your time. Greetings and felicitations, Tarnished one. I am the witch known as Renna. Whispers of a Tarnished figure traversing the expanse astride a spectral steed have reached my ears. Upon investigating these accounts, it has become clear that the very subject of these discussions is none other than yourself. It appears that you bear a unique ability, do you not? The capacity to summon forth the ethereal companion, Torrent, is yours to command."
Harry bowed in response "Indeed, your words have found their mark. I am the Tarnished who wields the power to conjure Torrent, the spectral steed. It is an honor to meet you, Witch Renna. Your knowledge and perception of my abilities are truly impressive. Is there a purpose behind your inquiry regarding my connection with Torrent?"
A smirk came upon Renna's face as she offered a Bell to Harry " Ah, just as I had anticipated. I bore the responsibility of safeguarding this item, intended specifically for your possession. It was granted to me by Torrent's previous wielder. This is a bell, designed to beckon spirits from the realm of ash that lies unreturned to the Erdtree. Through its mystical resonance, you can summon these spirits, who shall dutifully heed your call. However, their obedience is transient, a fleeting manifestation of their memories of battles fought long ago. Now, the bell is passed into your keeping. Its fate is yours to determine as you see fit."
Harry carefully examined the Bell before putting it inside the Mokeskin pouch Hagrid had gifted him on his seventeenth birthday. It all felt so long ago. Turning back to Renna, he responded "The concept of calling forth spirits from the realm of ash to the embrace of the Erdtree is fascinating, and I'm grateful for this gift of power. I'll take heed of your counsel and use the bell judiciously, as I embark on this challenging journey."
As Harry turned to depart, Renna called out once more "I seek your pardon for my interruption, Tarnished. It is unlikely that our paths shall cross once more. Nonetheless, take this counsel to heart and acquaint yourself thoroughly with the intricacies of the Lands Between. One can't help but ponder, how much time shall pass before you grow weary of your allegiance to the Two Fingers?"
As Harry began to respond, Renna gave a final wave before she disappeared into thin mist. Grumbling to himself, Harry muttered to himself "Witches are the same everywhere. Veiled meanings in every sentence. Now, enough of this, Melina?" The finger maiden appeared as soon as Harry called out, manifesting herself before him.
"The hour has come for me to embark towards Stormveil Castle. Would you consider accompanying me?"
"As I said, honourable Tarnished. I am with you till we reach the Erdtree. The journey to Stormveil Castle is a paramount one, and I believe that our combined efforts would prove invaluable. Your presence as a companion would be greatly appreciated as we navigate the challenges that lie ahead. Let us forge ahead together, united in purpose and determination."
As the sun gradually descended below the horizon, its fading light stretched across the desolate terrain, imbuing the remnants of Limgrave with an eerie, subdued glow. Amidst this twilight landscape, Harry's gaze lingered upon the shattered remnants of what once stood proud. The journey that loomed before him appeared as a formidable odyssey, its path winding through the encompassing shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly. However, he was no stranger to the tussle against seemingly insurmountable odds. The trials he had faced and the battles he had waged in his past had carved within him a resilience that now stood as an unwavering beacon of strength.
In this moment of contemplation, Harry's mind wandered back to the cryptic journal he had stumbled upon within the ancient cathedral's hallowed chambers. Those written words spoke of a prophecy, one that spoke of a chosen individual, fated to rise, and restore the broken fragments of the Elden Ring. The resonance of this prophecy reverberated deeply within his heart, reinforcing his conviction that even in this strange new world, his existence bore a sense of purpose and significance. The parallels between his roles as the once-titled "Boy Who Lived" and his current mantle as the Tarnished were stark and undeniable, threading together two distinct chapters of a greater narrative. These chapters shared common themes — sacrifice, heroism, and an unyielding defiance against the encroaching tides of darkness.
As his spectral steed bore him away into the embrace of the encroaching night towards Stormveil Castle, Harry's thoughts transcended the immediate horizon and ventured into the unknown challenges that awaited him. His memories danced back to the battles waged against the formidable Voldemort, a dark adversary whose echoes reverberated in the enemies he faced in this novel realm. The lessons he had imbibed in his previous struggles offered him a reservoir of resilience and tactics, a reservoir he could now draw upon to navigate the unfamiliar enemies and challenges that stood between him and the mending of the Elden Ring.
The thread of time wove itself between the two worlds he had traversed, his experiences converging into a tapestry of knowledge and courage. The remnants of Limgrave, like the echoes of Hogwarts, became markers of the indomitable spirit that resided within him. And as he galloped steadfastly into the obscurity of the night, Harry carried with him not only the weight of his past triumphs but also the unwavering determination to rise above every adversity, to honour his role as a harbinger of light even in the most shadowed corners of existence.
AN: Hello again, dear readers. Welcome to the second installment of this story. I hope you have enjoyed the premise. As always read, review and enjoy.