Chapter 9

Harry could not help but be impressed by Queen Rennala's equestrian skills as they rode together through the untamed expanse of Liurnia. Her regal presence seemed to extend even to the back of the mighty Infernoth, who moved with a graceful, almost otherworldly stride. In contrast, Harry rode Torrent, his ghostly steed, which was equally agile but had a spectral quality that set it apart.

As they journeyed together, Harry noticed that Queen Rennala appeared entirely at ease astride Infernoth, her posture displaying a deep connection between rider and mount. The magnificent beast thundered through the wilderness, each stride carrying them closer to their destination. Harry could not help but recognize the multitude of advantages Infernoth brought to their journey. Its imposing presence alone was enough to deter any would-be attackers, as evidenced by the giant crab that had nearly fled in terror when the colossal wolf passed by on its way to Caria Manor.

Catching up to the Queen as they navigated through the rugged terrain, Harry could not resist offering a compliment. "You are quite adept on the saddle."

Rennala, her grip on Infernoth's mane firm as they made a graceful leap over fallen tree branches, responded with a touch of humor in her voice, "Perks of being royalty." The humor that had briefly graced Queen Rennala's features faded as her keen eyes caught sight of a church in the distance. It stood proudly atop a plateau on the eastern landmass, beckoning them with an air of solemnity and history. Without hesitation, she coaxed Infernoth in the direction of the church, her determination evident in the way she guided the giant wolf. Harry followed in her wake; his curiosity piqued by this unexpected detour.

Upon reaching the church, Queen Rennala gracefully dismounted from Infernoth, and Harry joined her at the entrance. In hushed tones, she shared a piece of her past with him, her voice tinged with nostalgia and a hint of sadness. "This is where Radagon and I were married."

Pushing the creaking door open, Harry stepped into the fallen-down church, which held an eerie charm of its own. At its center lay a giant pool, its waters reflecting the somber atmosphere of the sacred place. Elegant statues stood sentinel all around, their stone forms holding torches aloft as if to ward off the encroaching darkness. Above, the roof had vanished, allowing persistent rain to cascade within, adding to the aura of solemnity.

"Pastor Miriel," Rennala murmured, addressing an entity that had been hidden from Harry's view. Intrigued, he turned around to discover a most unexpected sight—a giant silver turtle, wearing a mitre atop its head.

The turtle lowered itself into a respectful bow, its voice calm and reverent as it addressed the queen. "My dear queen, it is an honor to have you in this sacred chamber. You and your companion are most welcome."

Turning its gaze toward Harry, the giant turtle extended a courteous acknowledgment. "Welcome you, to the Church of Vows. I am Miriel, steward of this sacred chamber. My apologies, for the unseemly state of affairs."

Harry, still processing the surreal sight before him, returned the gesture with a bow of his own. It was not every day one encountered a giant turtle serving as a pastor in an ancient church.

"No apologies required, my dear pastor. Tell me of the state of things" Rennala said.

In the hushed and weathered confines of the church, Rennala and Miriel stood in conversation, their voices carrying the echoes of a troubled history that mirrored the pages of a melancholic ballad.

"This church, once a haven of tranquility," Miriel began, his timeworn gaze reflecting the loss that had befallen their realm, "it was razed to its foundations during the cruel tempest of the Shattering Wars."

Rennala listened solemnly, her eyes cast in remembrance of those who had suffered. "And what of the church after the storm had passed?"

Miriel's gaze held a sorrowful glint. "It became a sanctuary, a haven for those who bore the scars of war, for the wounded and displaced who sought solace in its broken yet enduring embrace."

The discussion then turned to matters that weighed heavily upon their hearts. "Radagon," Rennala murmured, "the mystery of his departure lingers still. His choice to forsake our union remains an enigma, and his swift ascension to the mantle of Second Elden Lord, once a humble soldier in the service of Queen Marika, is a source of deep perplexity."

At this moment, Harry entered the conversation, his presence unknown to Miriel. "May I inquire, good pastor," he ventured, "about Radagon's decision and the circumstances surrounding it?"

Miriel turned to regard the newcomer with ancient eyes. "You are a stranger to me, but your voice carries the weight of genuine curiosity. Know this: Radagon's choice to leave our queen is shrouded in mystery, and his rise to the Second Elden Lordship remains a contentious matter."

Rennala, acknowledging Harry's introduction, said, "This is Master Harry Potter, an ally of mine.

Miriel inclined his head in acknowledgment. "I thank you, Master Potter, for your role in freeing our beloved queen from the clutches of the Academy of Raya Lucaria."

Harry offered a humble nod of gratitude in response.

The pastor then turned his attention back to Rennala. "Your return, my queen, brings a glimmer of hope to our weary realm, for we have suffered great losses in the wake of the Shattering Wars."

Rennala's eyes held a sorrow that mirrored the grief of the land. "We shall do all in our power to mend the wounds that mar Liurnia."

As their conversation unfolded, Miriel imparted a final piece of information. "On the path leading to Caria Manor, you will find a childhood friend of your daughter, Ranni, awaiting your arrival, my queen."

Rennala's gaze brightened with a touch of warmth at the thought of reuniting with a familiar face. "Thank you for this news, Pastor Miriel."

Turning to Harry, Miriel's eyes bore into his with a penetrating wisdom. "And for you, Master Potter, there is a path that leads to peace, one you shall tread in due time."

Harry, caught off guard by the pastor's proclamation, could not help but be moved by the words. "I hope your prediction comes true, Pastor Miriel," he responded, his voice tinged with a mixture of hope and weariness. "I feel as if I have been entangled in the threads of war for the entirety of my life, and now, I seek respite from the never-ending turmoil that surrounds me. But, alas, I fear that the door to peace has been firmly closed to me. In my previous life, I was a soldier thrust into the heart of conflict, and now, once again, I find myself on a quest to save the world. The burden of taking lives, even in the name of a just cause, is a heavy one, and it is the weight that breaks me."

Pastor Miriel regarded Harry with a knowing gaze, his ancient eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. In that moment, it felt as if the turtle pastor had seen the innermost recesses of Harry's soul, the scars left by a lifetime of strife and the heavy burden he carried.

"Master Potter," Miriel began, his voice carrying a comforting and reassuring tone, "the path to peace is a winding one, often obscured by the storms of life. It is true that you have borne the weight of battles and seen the toll it takes on the human spirit. But it is also true that you possess a resilience and strength that have guided you through the darkest of times."

Harry met Miriel's gaze; his weariness tempered by a glimmer of hope kindled by the pastor's words.

The wise pastor continued, "It is a noble quest you undertake, one that carries a heavy toll, but remember that you are not alone in this journey. Allies have joined your side, and there is strength in unity. The path to peace may be treacherous, but it is not insurmountable."

Rennala, who had been an attentive listener, joined the conversation with a soft-spoken reassurance that echoed through the dimly lit church. Her words held a soothing cadence, an embrace for Harry's weary spirit. "Worry not, Master Potter. Yours is not a soul that revels in the taking of lives. Your actions bear witness to this truth. When you stood at the precipice, you showed mercy, sparing my life when it hung by a thread, and opting to spare Infernoth, a testament to your reverence for life itself."

As she spoke, her voice carried the weight of understanding, and her eyes held a warmth that cut through the shadows of the church. "Our existence may be marred by the harshness of circumstance, yet it is not a realm of gratuitous cruelty. Your choices, even in the bleakest of hours, define your character—a character rooted in a deep respect for life, seeking the path of righteousness."

With the parting wisdom of Pastor Miriel lingering in their thoughts, Harry and Rennala made their farewells within the ancient church. Rennala, her presence regal and unwavering, offered her gratitude to the pastor, her voice carrying a tone of resolve. "Your insights and the sanctuary of this hallowed place shall not be forgotten, Pastor Miriel. We carry your words as a beacon."

The venerable pastor, his eyes reflecting the wisdom of ages, responded with a heartfelt blessing. "May the fates guide your steps, leading you towards the elusive shores of peace and redemption."

With these parting words, Harry and Rennala exited the church, returning to the world outside. The once-venerable church, now a relic of endurance, slowly faded into the distance as they resumed their northward journey.

Harry beckoned Torrent with a whistle, while Rennala elegantly mounted Infernoth once more. The giant wolf sprang forward, and they continued their relentless march into the heart of Western Liurnia of the Lakes. As they slowly rode, Rennala, perceptive as ever, sensed that Harry was still perturbed with his conversation with Pastor Miriel and decided to probe gently. "Master Potter," she began in a tone that carried a hint of understanding, "as we journey through these lands, the weight of our past bears down upon us. But perhaps there is solace to be found in shared stories. What led you to this realm? What secrets lie within the tapestry of your own history?"

Harry, ever introspective, paused for a moment. His thoughts drifted back to the days of his youth, to a world of magic and wonder that had once been his home. He had always been reticent about sharing his past, especially the tumultuous years marked by his battles against the dark forces that had threatened his world.

He finally spoke, his voice tinged with a mixture of nostalgia and reluctance. "My journey began in a place called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he began. "It was a school filled with magic, where friendships were made, and children were taught. But it was also a place of darkness, where a dark wizard named Voldemort sought to conquer the wizarding world and reshape it in his image."

As they rode further, the dense forest enveloped them in an eerie twilight, the ancient trees casting long, wavering shadows over their path. Harry's recounting of his past unfolded like an ancient tale, each word laden with the weight of battles fought, and the enduring marks etched upon his body and soul.

Rennala, her curiosity insatiable, interjected with questions about the magic of his world. Her inquisitiveness extended to the figures who had played pivotal roles in his life, with particular interest piqued by one name. "Albus Dumbledore seems like a figure of great importance," she observed, her voice carrying an undercurrent of fascination.

Harry nodded, acknowledging the significance of the name. "Indeed, he was a formidable presence," he began, his tone contemplative. "But Albus Dumbledore wasn't a general leading us into battle. He was more like a guiding light, a source of wisdom, and a wellspring of knowledge. I used to view him as an infallible character, a paragon of virtue who could do no wrong. However, as I grew older and became more deeply entangled in the war, I realized that he was, at his core, human."

The quiet rhythm of their journey was punctuated by Harry's reflective words. "Dumbledore was extraordinary, to say the least. He possessed a wisdom that was profound, and his knowledge of magic, history, and life itself was unparalleled. You could pose any question to him, and his answers had the power to make you ponder deeply."

Rennala, her own wisdom shining in her eyes, remarked, "Wisdom is a trait to be admired."

Harry nodded in agreement, but his voice carried a weight of complexity as he continued. "Indeed, it is. But Dumbledore was not without his flaws. He never pretended to be infallible. In fact, he openly acknowledged his mistakes, often lamenting that as a great man, his missteps tended to affect a greater number of people."

Their rides continued to carry them through the shadowy forest, the air thick with the secrets of the past. Harry hesitated briefly, his voice carrying a somber note. "He cared for me deeply, of that I am certain. Yet, he raised me as a sacrificial pawn. He knew the cost of our actions and the sacrifices that were necessary. What is one life, even one as significant as mine, compared to the lives of millions?"

Amidst the tranquil ambiance of the forest, their horses moving in unison, a sense of contemplation hung in the air. Rennala's dark eyes held a thoughtful glint as she absorbed the weight of Harry's words. His perspective on Dumbledore, once revered as an infallible figure, had matured with time and experience.

Harry, too, had delved deep into his own introspection since the return of his memories. His admiration for Dumbledore remained, but it was now tempered with a nuanced understanding of the choices and sacrifices made by the older wizard. He had been a pawn in a larger, unfathomable game, a realization that bore its own burdens.

"It does indeed," Harry responded, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "To make such sacrifices, to bear the knowledge that your actions may lead to the suffering of those you care about... it's a heavy burden to carry."

Rennala nodded in agreement, her expression somber yet understanding. "While my experiences may not mirror your own, I, too, have tasted the bitterness of sacrifice," she admitted her words carrying the weight of her own past. "Radagon, my husband, sacrificed our marriage and our family to enforce the will of the Golden Order and ascend to the position of Second Elden Lord."

The sacrifices made for the greater good often came at a steep personal cost. "Such choices are never easy," he mused.

Their journey eventually led them deep into the heart of the Kingsrealm Ruins, where time had weathered the once-majestic structures into an eerie, desolate expanse. The crumbling stones and ancient remnants seemed to resonate with the whispers of forgotten history, and Rennala's eyes widened with recognition as she surveyed the surroundings. Her voice, when she spoke, carried a tone of reverence.

"These are the Kingsrealm Ruins," she proclaimed, her words steeped in a deep sense of awe. Here, amidst the remnants of a bygone era, the weight of the past pressed upon them, casting a solemn shroud over the atmosphere.

The ruins, much like the Church of Vows, bore the scars of battles fought and secrets concealed within their decaying walls. As Harry and Rennala continued their exploration, the air was heavy with the palpable sense of history left untold.

Their journey through this ancient realm led them to a peculiar discovery—a writhing, pale shade of a man, on bended knee, his face contorted in anguish, and his hands raised toward the heavens, as if beseeching some form of relief. The man's mutterings reached Harry's ears as he drew near.

"... Ahh, Iji, forgive me," the shade murmured, his voice a lamentation. "These royal grounds were placed in our trust, but we stood no chance."

Harry furrowed his brow, intrigued by the name Iji. "He speaks of someone named Iji," he noted.

Rennala regarded the scene thoughtfully, her brow furrowing in contemplation. "It cannot be Iji," she mused, her mind grappling with the implications.

But their moment of reflection was abruptly shattered by a growl that resonated through the ruins. Before they could react, a horde of wolves bounded toward them, their feral instincts guiding them with savage intent.

As the snarling pack of wolves closed in on them, Rennala, ever composed, raised her staff, its runes shimmering with latent magic. With a swift motion, she summoned a protective barrier around them, a shimmering dome of energy that deflected the wolves' initial charge. The creatures collided with the magical barrier, their furious assault thwarted for the moment.

With the looming threat of the wolf pack closing in, Harry took decisive action. Stepping forward, he raised his staff high, and with a sweeping motion, ignited the ground in front of them in a fierce blaze. The wolves, caught off guard by the sudden burst of flames, yelped and attempted to flee the inferno's reach. Their fur singed and their growls of aggression replaced by terrified whimpers.

But Harry wasn't finished yet. His staff moved with precision, and he cast a wide-area Stunning Spell that arced through the air like a shimmering wave of magic. The spell hit its mark, and the collective consciousness of the wolf pack was momentarily overpowered. One by one, the wolves succumbed to unconsciousness, their struggles ceasing as they collapsed onto the scorched earth.

"Well done, Master Potter," Rennala praised as Harry extinguished the fire, leaving behind only the smoldering remnants of the flames.

Harry, still wary of the situation, remained alert. "What of this spirit?" he inquired, his gaze scanning the vicinity for any further threats.

Rennala's expression turned pensive. "I do not know," she confessed, her uncertainty evident. "We ever encountered spirits before the shattering."

Harry nodded, offering a possible explanation from his own world "In my world, spirits lingered when their deaths left some tasks in their life unfinished."

As they contemplated the nature of the spirit, a deep voice rumbled from behind. "I am Iji."

Harry spun around in alarm, his instincts urging him to raise his staff in defense. However, Rennala's swift intervention stayed his hand as she urgently shouted, "No."

The source of the voice revealed itself, and to Harry's astonishment, it was a colossal troll. The troll loomed before them, its immense form casting a shadow over the ruins.

Rennala, showing no fear, addressed the troll directly. "Iji, is that you?" she inquired, her voice tinged with both surprise and relief.

"Aye, tis me, Lady Rennala," the troll replied, its tone surprisingly gentle for a creature of its size. "We had all thought you lost. Lady Ranni, myself, and Blaidd."

Rennala's concern for her daughter, Ranni, was palpable as she demanded to know her whereabouts. Iji, the troll, seemed to shrink back slightly before bowing his head respectfully.

"She resides in Ranni's rise," he answered with a hint of reverence.

Rennala's voice softened as she murmured, "The three sisters."

"Indeed," Iji confirmed. He turned to Harry, who had been observing the conversation in silence, and offered another bow. "I am Iji, a blacksmith who once served the Carian royals. An old codger who refuses to retire his rusty hammer. So, here I am, still quietly plying my trade on this spot. Perhaps you would like a display? These bones are old, but still able."

Harry couldn't help but marvel at the situation. "A troll blacksmith," he repeated, clearly astonished. He then introduced himself, "I am Harry Potter."

Iji regarded Harry with a shrewd eye and made an assumption. "Well, look at you. I presume you are a Tarnished. What brings you here? Oh, pardon me. It is hardly my place to ask, is it."

Harry clarified his situation, his voice tinged with weariness. "I am not a Tarnished. I come from another world where I died. I was reborn in this world, and I am now on a quest to mend the Elden Ring."

"If you say so, my lord sorcerer" Iji, respectful of Harry's identity, turned back to Rennala, his curiosity unabated. "My lady, what happened to you? Blaidd and I tried to storm the Academy, but we were repelled."

Rennala recounted her tragic tale. "After Radagon left, my powers were out of control due to grief. The mages in the Academy led a coup and imprisoned me there. It was Master Potter who ventured in and rescued me. We are now on our way to Caria Manor."

Iji nodded solemnly and offered a word of caution. "Then, a word of warning, my lady. When the Raya Lucaria Academy turned on the Carians, the Knights of the Cuckoo descended on this tract. After leveling it, they carried on to the manor. The Carians were taken off guard, but their strength had not waned, and they repelled the knights' onslaught... By conjuring an enchanted snare that remains potent to this day."

Harry was intrigued by the mention of the enchanted snare and could not help but inquire, "What kind of snare is it?"

Iji's eyes held a flicker of ancient knowledge as he contemplated Harry's question. His voice was measured as he spoke, "It is a snare woven from the essence of the magic of the moon, a source of great power for Caria in days long past," Iji began. "The Carians invoked the moon's magic, and it formed a barrier around the manor. The Knights of the Cuckoo found themselves ensnared within its ethereal grasp, their movements restricted, their magic dulled."

Harry's curiosity deepened as he absorbed the significance of this enchantment. "And how can one pass through this barrier?"

Iji's reply was filled with gravitas. "Only those who bear the blessing of Caria's royal blood can navigate the Snare unharmed. It recognizes them as kin and allows them passage. Others who attempt to breach it may find themselves ensnared and vulnerable."

Rennala, her brow furrowed in concern, understood the implications. "I am of the Carian royal line, but I fear that my absence may have weakened the connection."

"Regardless, our destination is Caria Manor," Harry asserted. Rennala nodded in agreement, and with a melodious whistle, she summoned Infernoth. Harry swiftly climbed onto Torrent, his spectral steed, while Iji slowly shuffled toward a massive bench. On the bench lay a colossal hammer and an aged book, both intriguing artifacts.

As Iji bid his farewell to Rennala with a respectful bow, he reached for the book and opened it with a deliberate reverence. His gaze locked onto the pages, filled with ancient wisdom and secrets of an era long past.

Rennala spurred Infernoth onward, a fiery determination in her eyes. With a swift kick to the wolf's haunches, she leaped forward, embarking on the next leg of their journey toward Caria Manor.

As Harry and Rennala drew closer to Caria Manor, their anticipation was tinged with caution. The ancient structure loomed larger with every step, its imposing silhouette a testament to the grandeur it once held. Yet, their approach did not go unnoticed.

Bolts of blue magical energy erupted from the manor's tall towers, streaking toward them with alarming speed. Rennala's instincts kicked in, and she urged Infernoth to evade the incoming barrage, while Harry conjured a shimmering shield that shimmered with a protective brilliance.

"Stay close!" Harry shouted above the roar of the magical onslaught.

Rennala clenched her staff tightly, her eyes scanning the towers for any signs of the attackers. "We're almost there, Harry. Hold the shield steady!"

The relentless bolts continued to rain down upon them, and Harry gritted his teeth, maintaining the protective barrier as they approached the manor's entrance.

Finally, as they crossed the threshold into Caria Manor, the barrage ceased as abruptly as it had begun. The oppressive silence within the manor was a stark contrast to the chaos outside, but it was no less eerie.

Caria Manor, once a symbol of grandeur and opulence, had succumbed to the relentless passage of time. As Harry and Rennala ventured deeper into the decaying structure, they found themselves surrounded by walls adorned with creeping moss and overgrown vines that seemed to clutch at the very stones. In the dimness of the manor's interior, Harry cast a Lumos spell, bathing their surroundings in a soft, eerie light that revealed the fading splendor of the past.

The garden within the manor was no exception to the ravages of time. "What has become of the house of my forefathers?" Rennala lamented. Suddenly, a hiss escaped her lips, and she swiftly unleashed a spell into the shadows. The bright light from her spell illuminated a grotesque sight – giant dismembered hands, malformed and with far too many fingers, were crawling menacingly toward them.

"Merlin's pants!" Harry exclaimed, reacting with lightning speed. He drew his staff and unleashed a slicing curse that cleanly bisected one of the creeping hands, rendering it inert. But they were not alone in this eerie garden.

Rennala's voice rang out as she sent a spell hurtling toward more of the crawling hands, illuminating their grotesque forms. "There are more!" she shouted, summoning the power of a full moon and directing it toward the oncoming creatures.

Harry continued to battle the monsters, setting some of them ablaze with well-aimed spells. "What are they?" he asked between curses, his brow furrowed in both concentration and curiosity.

Rennala explained, her voice filled with urgency, "Fingercreepers. They often lie in wait, crushing victims as they pass by, and they can fire immobilizing projectiles from the rings on their fingers."

Infernoth, ever loyal and fierce, leapt into the fray, his fiery magic expertly wielded to combat their encroaching foes. However, the surreal battle took an even stranger turn as a mysterious mist materialized before them, and ghostly knights emerged from its depths.

Rennala's eyes widened in recognition and sorrow. "They are the fallen soldiers of my house."

In response to the looming specter of her ancestral warriors, Harry called upon his most cherished memories, summoning forth a Patronus. An explosion of radiant light filled the garden as Prongs materialized, galloping with ethereal grace, and illuminating the surroundings with his ghostly brilliance. The Fingercreepers and spectral knights recoiled from the overwhelming presence of the Patronus, their malevolent advances momentarily halted by the powerful, protective magic.

Amidst the chaotic battle in the eerie garden of Caria Manor, a sudden clip-clop of hooves resounded through the air. A spectral knight, mounted on a ghostly steed, leaped into the fray, wielding a long polearm with menacing proficiency. Rennala's voice rang out in recognition, her tone filled with a mix of astonishment and urgency. "That's Loretta!"

Harry, momentarily distracted and caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the spectral knight, had barely registered Rennala's exclamation when he found himself in imminent danger. He instinctively dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the rearing hooves of the spectral horse. However, he was not quick enough to evade the swift and deadly arc of the knight's polearm.

The polearm struck Harry's right shoulder with a sickening thud, and the impact sent him hurtling backward. The back of his head collided with the unforgiving stone wall behind him, causing tiny lights to burst into existence in front of his vision. Dizziness and bewilderment momentarily overwhelmed him, leaving him disoriented and vulnerable.

As Harry struggled to regain his senses, he watched with a sense of helplessness as Rennala, drawing upon her glintstone sorcery, deftly diverted the attention of the spectral knight away from him. With a determined resolve, he pushed himself up from the ground and surveyed the slowly retreating Fingercreepers.

Enough was enough.

Summoning every ounce of magical energy within him, Harry slammed his staff forcefully onto the ground. His voice echoed through the garden as he roared, "Fulminis!"

In an instant, crimson lightning erupted from the tip of his staff, searing through the ground and scorching the crawling Fingercreepers. Smoke and ash billowed from their rapidly disintegrating bodies as Harry continued his relentless assault. In a matter of moments, the grotesque creatures were reduced to nothing more than a smoldering pile of ashes.

Turning his attention back to the ongoing battle, Harry witnessed Rennala's fierce duel with the spectral knight. Her staff moved like a blur, launching a barrage of spells toward her opponent, while the knight, equally skilled, summoned his own arsenal of magic to counter her attacks.

"Use lightning once more!" Rennala's voice cut through the clamor of battle. She expertly deflected a swift polearm strike aimed at her chest with her staff, then spun around with grace and precision. With a concentrated effort, she unleashed a brilliant beam of neon blue energy at the spectral rider.

However, the spectral knight, displaying remarkable agility, managed to evade the deadly spell. He leaped and twisted in mid-air, narrowly avoiding the searing energy, which harmlessly struck the ground behind him. The knight landed deftly and resumed his relentless assault, determination etched into his ghostly visage.

With determination fueling his actions, Harry raised his staff once more, this time focusing on a different spell. "Vulnera Sanentur!" Harry incanted loudly, directing the healing spell toward his wounded shoulder. The spell's soothing magic surged through his body, knitting together torn flesh and mending damaged tissue. The pain in his shoulder began to subside, and he felt a renewed sense of strength coursing through him.

With newfound vigor, Harry rejoined the battle, his staff raised high. He cast a series of stunning spells at the spectral knight, forcing the ethereal warrior to deflect and evade with swift, calculated movements. Rennala seized the opportunity, intensifying her own offensive, her spells becoming more potent and relentless.

The spectral knight, now facing a dual assault from both Harry and Rennala, found himself hard-pressed to maintain his composure. His defenses weakened, and the tide of the battle slowly shifted in favor of the living.

Their coordinated efforts began to take a toll on the spectral knight, who could no longer evade every spell and strike directed at him. One of Rennala's powerful spells struck true, causing a brilliant explosion of magical energy that sent the knight tumbling backward, his spectral form dissipating into the ethereal mist from which he had emerged.

Rennala lowered her staff, her chest heaving with exhaustion, but a triumphant glint in her eyes. Harry, too, felt the weight of fatigue but could not help but smile in relief.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"That was the shade of Loretta, one of my most accomplished knights. She was the defender of my daughter" Rennala replied.

"Why would she attack us?" Harry asked nonplussed. Rennala shrugged in reply as the mist and darkness finally vanished, leaving them in front of a fountain.

"Come" Rennala beckoned Harry towards a large archway. The duo entered through the archway and Harry found himself outside the manor again, this time in a vast open land with three towers in the distance. The lands were perpetually enveloped in mist and gigantic pillars of glintstone pierced outwards through the earth.

"This is the Three Sisters" Rennala explained, leading him towards the western tower. The tower was black in color, with books and scrolls strewn all around and a staircase leading up to a lift. The duo climbed on the lift and waited as it carried them to the top where they went up another set of stairs, this time located on the outer walls of the tower.

As Harry climbed to the top of the landing, she jumped on seeing a familiar face. It was Renna, the woman he had met at the Church of Elleh.

"You" he said. Before Renna could reply, Rennala joined them on the landing and let out a scream.

"Mother" Renna said.

"Ranni?" her question was filled with anxiety.

"It is me, mother" Renna, now Ranni confirmed as she floated forward and softly hugged Rennala.

"What happened to you, my dearest daughter?" Rennala let out a sob before hugging her daughter back. Harry stepped back and sat on a pile of books in the corner. Ranni withdrew from the embrace and looked at her mother and sighed.

"I didn't think you would be alive after our connection was cut off," Ranni said.

"You were the one possessing Rennala" Harry said, it all made sense to him now. Ranni had thought that he was there to kill her mother and sought to defend her.

"Indeed. And I thank you for not harming my mother"

"But what happened to you?" Rennala asked again.

Ranni was lost for words before she reluctantly began.

"After father left us, I began to plan. I refused to stay as a pawn of an order that would break my family apart…"

"How were you a pawn?" Harry interjected.

"I was an empyrean" Ranni explained. "I was one of three who could ascend to godhood and succeed Queen Marika as the vessel of the Golden Order. But as I said, I refuse to let myself become a vessel for something that led to my family breaking apart. My father left us because of his obsession with upholding the Golden Order. So, I decided to destroy it."

Harry recalled everything that Gideon Ofnir had told him about Ranni and came to a startling conclusion. "You didn't happen to have a hand in the night of the black knives, did you?"

Ranni raised an elegant eyebrow while Rennala let out a groan. "Quite the sleuth, aren't we? Indeed, I stole a fragment of the Rune of Death, and used it to forge the godslaying black knives through fearsome rite. I did it all."

"And what now?" Rennala interrupted. "Now that you have stolen the rune of death from Malekith himself and drawn his ire. How long before he comes here to slaughter us all? Have you any sense, daughter of mine? You have had a hand in slaying Godwyn the Golden. What happens if anyone from the Golden Order finds out?"

"They won't" Ranni coldly said. "For I used the remaining runes to carve it on my own flesh. No one would suspect a dead woman. Now, I am free to choose my own path and wage my own war. I will bring upon the age of the stars and drown out the light of the golden order."

"You speak of killing your own brother" Rennala shouted. "And Radahn is the greatest warrior in these lands after Godfrey and Malekith."

Ranni's eyes held a cold determination as she continued to explain her motives, her voice unwavering despite her mother's pleas and Harry's skepticism.

"Mother, you underestimate the extent of Radahn's madness," Ranni stated firmly. "The scarlet rot has taken hold of him, and he's become a danger to everyone, including himself. I intend to put an end to his suffering and prevent any further harm he might inflict."

Rennala's brows furrowed with concern. "But Ranni, there must be another way. Radahn is your brother, and despite everything, he is family. Killing him is not the answer."

Ranni's resolve remained unshaken. "I've seen what Radahn has become, Mother. He's no longer the brother I knew, and I won't let him hurt anyone else. As for Master Potter," she turned her gaze toward Harry, "he has the power to sever the portents of fate that have plagued our family for generations."

"And what makes you sure of that?" Harry asked sarcastically. "How does killing Radahn remove the portents of fate? And what exactly are these portents?"

Rennala sighed, her eyes heavy with the burden of explaining the complex magic that entwined their lives. "The portents of fate are the celestial threads that bind our family to the stars themselves. It is a complex form of magic, Master Potter, one that has been manipulated by Radahn's mastery of gravitational sorcery. As a result, our destinies have been intertwined with the stars, and we've suffered the consequences of their manipulation."

Ranni chimed in, her tone softer now, revealing a glimpse of the pain that lay beneath her determination. "We've borne the weight of fate's whims, Master Potter. Our family has endured hardship after hardship, and I believe it is time to break free from this cycle. By ending Radahn's suffering, we hope to sever those threads and finally find peace. And I know of your quest to mend the Elden Ring. Radahn holds one of the shards of the Ring as well. It would serve you well to kill him."

The weight of destiny and the moral dilemmas that seemed to follow Harry on his journey pressed down upon him like an unrelenting force. He sighed heavily, his voice carrying the exhaustion of a man who had borne the world's burdens for far too long.

Ranni, though resolute in her decision, also showed a softer side as she spoke. "We understand the weight of our request, and we do not take it lightly. But we are running out of time, and Radahn's descent into madness only deepens with each passing day. We must act swiftly to protect those we care about."

Harry considered their words, his mind filled with conflicting emotions. He had always been driven by a sense of duty and a desire to protect others, but the constant demands of destiny had taken their toll. The prospect of taking another life, even to sever the threads of fate, weighed heavily on his conscience.

"I will help you find an alternative solution," Harry finally replied, his voice firm but burdened. "Killing Radahn may be the last resort, but I will do my best to explore other options first. I've seen too much death, and I don't wish to add to that toll."

Ranni nodded in gratitude, her eyes reflecting a glimmer of hope. "Thank you, Master Potter. Your willingness to seek an alternative means a great deal to us."

With the decision made and their goals aligned, Rennala turned her attention to the practicalities of their next steps. She addressed Harry with a sense of urgency. "You will have to make your way to Caelid. It is located east of Limgrave. Travel to Redmane Castle and seek out my knight, Blaidd. You will recognize him when you see him."

"Very well" Harry reluctantly stood up and looked at Rennala "I believe we had a deal."

"Indeed we did" Rennala's eyes then shifted to the amber egg pendant that had been attached to her body throughout their journey. With a simple flick of her wrist, it shimmered and transformed into an amber rune, hovering briefly before disintegrating into radiant motes of light. These motes then descended and merged with the bracelet worn by Harry.

"The rune of rebirth," Rennala explained. "This rune was used to help revitalize the bearer continuously. Use it well, Master Potter."

Harry acknowledged her gift with a respectful bow, his expression showing both gratitude and determination. "Thank you, Queen Rennala, for your trust and assistance." With a final exchange of nods, Harry's figure disappeared in a swirl of golden light, leaving behind the mother and daughter.


AN: So Ranni and Rennala are reunited. Harry is burdened with yet another task, to subdue Radahn. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please read and review.