Nokron gazed longingly at the ruined city below him.
The Siofra Settlement had fallen from the glory he remembered. The mere fact he remembered it, proof of the unnatural state of his home. Lamp posts were strewn across the city, dormant and empty of the ghostflame that once lit the shadow-covered Settlement. Cracked marble was overtaken by greenery, the buildings still inhabited despite their crumbled state. No one cared to remember what their home used to be like.
And why would they? The Erdtree shone radiantly above, making night indistinguishable from day. The giant tree reached high in the sky, and its branches stood above everything across the land. Blessed fruit fell from those branches, and his people were more than content to spend their days grabbing at them and living in ecstasy. Some even willingly wore the shackles of servitude to it, for it gave them all they wanted.
Nokron could see the appeal, but he himself knew better. He had separated from the settlement, living in a shrine further upstream. It was no bigger than a hut, but Nokron maintained it as if it was a temple of old. Marble pillars marked the structure, as ghostflame lit the entrance in an ethereal black light.
Thus was his duty as a priest serving the Rite of Death. The old religion of his people before the Golden Order that served the Erdtree came. Nokron still upheld his tradition and faith but rarely had the chance to practice them. Death was an offense to the Golden Order. For this reason, Nokron stayed away from the faith of the Erdtree. The rest of his people had not.
Nokron entered his temple, sat on the ground and meditated on the Rite of Death and its flame before the ritual. Before the Erdtree, all feared and respected Death. His people, the Nox, honored it through the Rite of Death. Death was an entity in the world, and its messengers were called the Deathbirds. Life only existed by its forbearance, and when its time had ended, it was returned to Death in the ghostflame. This fire shined white with a black aura, and like Death had no warmth. It claimed the body, the spirit was freed by the Deathbirds, and the flame was maintained by the priests of Death.
He sighed as he stood up and remembered history. According to the Golden Order, when the Greater Will planted the Erdtree in the Lands Between, it gave Marika, the Golden Order's Queen and Goddess, the Elden Ring. Nokron never really cared to immerse himself in these fanatical ravings, but from what he did hear from the assimilated, it gave her the power to remove Destined Death from those living under the Erdtree's Grace.
And all deemed worthy would share in this Grace, even if unwilling. The Golden Order marched across the Lands Between, conquering all and assuming them into their faith. Even the Nox, hidden deep within the dark ravines of the Siofra and Ainsel Rivers, were not spared. The Nox were recluses, worshiping Death and the night without care for others. Those in the Siofra Settlement where Nokron resided, far in the plains of Limgrave, went unnoticed by the Stormhawks. And those in the Ainsel Settlement were said to be amicable and even share their magic with the neighboring Carian royals in the Liurnian wetlands.
What truly pained Nokron, even to this day, was that his people had accepted the Golden Order almost willingly. They did not need their holy knights or dragons. Too many had welcomed the comfort and ease of life that came with the Erdtree. Or maybe they had sought an escape from Death.
Now, aging was a thing of the past, and injuries had an eternity to heal. Those who did find a way to die would have their corpse brought to the Erdtree to be later reborn from its branches. This unnatural life was an insult to Death, and while ghostflame would burn on the flesh of those touched by Grace, it never turned it to ash, and their spirits could not be freed.
Worst was the fact that Nokron could not escape this predicament. He too was denied Death. He had lost count of the centuries he'd lived in, but one could hardly see that age in his appearance. The only symbol of his ancient knowledge was his clothing, which still followed the traditions of his people. A white robe meticulously wrapped around him, with black accents and a hood that covered his face in shadow. The Nox had lived in darkness for ages before the Erdtree, making their skin pale and silver. Even the Erdtree's golden light hadn't changed that. It was all that marked them as different from the tree worshipers in the Altus Plateau, where the foot of the Erdtree and the capital of the Golden Order, Leyndell, resided.
Nokron adjusted his bone bracelets and walked down from his vantage. Ever since the Golden Order's conquest, Nokron had no place among his people. None wished for Death and it would not accept them either. All were under the Grace of the Erdtree.
All save the Ancestral Followers. They were a peculiar race, with bluish skin and antlers that added to their already large frames. Upon their arrival, the Golden Order had deemed them unfit for the Erdtree, their primal nature too akin to the crucible of old. The Followers were all the happier for it. They kept their way of life without the interference of a god they did not believe in.
Nokron performed for them rites that kept their traditions alive. Their people and his had always been separate but had peacefully coexisted on the Siofra River bank. They also shared a reverence for Death. The Ancestral Followers' antlers grew continuously so long as their spirit lived. The larger one's horns, the more revered they became, with some earning the title of Ancestral Spirit, serving as an eternal guide to others, even after their deaths. They believed that these Ancestors continued to dwell in a realm of spirit after their deaths, manifested by the power in their aged antlers.
But those who could not bud great antlers before their death needed proper rites to ensure their corpses wouldn't become a mangled mesh of malformed horns. When their spirits were freed, they went on to live in the Ancestor Dwelling Grounds, or so they claimed. As a priest of the Rite of Death, this was where Nokron fulfilled his role. The Followers also believed in the ghostflame's role in releasing the spirit.
The Ancestral Followers stomped in place in a synchronized rhythm in their temple. It had been a gift from a time when the Siofra Settlement cared to build and grow beyond the Erdtree. With no one to restore it, it had fallen into disarray. Now it was more of an open platform with a few pillars than a true temple. The Ancestral Followers were sturdy people who liked to live in peace with nature, sometimes more as animals than men. Their tools and weapons were primitive, relying on brute strength rather than finesse. Even the song that their chieftain sang was serene yet untamed. The old female Follower stood on a high pedestal, her great antlers hiding the braid of white hair on her back.
No one reacted to his arrival, and Nokron had little qualms with this. Death had its time and would always have its due. It needed no fanfare, no announcement.
At the center of the temple were the remains of an Ancestral Spirit. The ancient being was more stag than Follower, with antlers reaching enormous proportions. At first sight, one would think it dead, nothing more than a decayed carcass of a giant stag. But the Ancient Followers claimed that it was only dormant, its spirit in its own Dwelling Grounds.
Beside it were the bodies of those who had recently passed away. Nokron would burn them in the cold embrace of ghostflame, granting them proper Death.
"You may begin, little crow," the chieftain commanded in a heavy accent when her song ended. For generations, the chieftains of the Followers had referred to him as such, and Nokron could never tell whether it was an insult or honor. But it was beneath him to concern himself with the former, and the latter meant just as little. Death always had its due, whether welcomed or despised.
Nokron chanted in the tongue of the Deathbirds. His words were silent, barely more than a breath. Death didn't need much more. The words were meant for the spirits. To call them and release them from the body.
He traced a circle in the air. As his hands moved, a white light appeared, the figure resembling a curled centipede that enveloped Nokron's hand. The Mark of Death. It symbolized the cycle that Death thrived upon. A terrifying symbol for those who didn't embrace that cycle.
But Nokron was comfortable in Death, even longing for it. He slammed the Mark down. Ghostflame erupted upon contact and spread to the bodies. It didn't touch the Ancestral Spirit, however. The priest respected the flame, and it, in turn, followed his designs.
"You have our thanks once more, little crow," the chieftain said as Nokron watched over the flames. "I pity your people. The Golden Order has robbed them of all their strength." Nokron only nodded silently. "The antlers of those who died and grew strong continue to bud even after their death. We use them to strengthen our spirit and assemble our weapons. In death, there is strength, and that strength serves life. I hope your people can meet death again soon."
"Death will come when it will," Nokron remarked in a distant voice. "I cannot bring it any sooner than it deigns to. It's not my place to make requests upon it."
The chieftain only huffed in response. She spoke to her people in their tongue, and they began singing and stomping once more. Nokron would stay until the last of the ghostflame had been snuffed.
So long as he had that, he would continue in this perverted life.
But something was wrong with the ghostflame. It kept flickering. He felt a strong wind, but they never blew so far down the ravine. It grew stronger and almost pushed Nokron off his balance. He turned around to gleam the source, and was greeted with a dreaded sight.
A great four-winged dragon was beating its wings in place, creating a gust so strong that it snuffed the ghostflame. The golden sheen on its scales was unmistakable. It was Fortissax, a loyal servant and friend to the demigod riding him. Godwyn the Golden.
Nokron looked back at the flame. It was beyond saving. He could hardly keep himself standing, let alone cast it once again. Such disrespect towards Death was expected of the Order, but Nokron hardly felt anger. Death would have its due. The Golden Order could not forbid the Rite for those outside the Grace of the Erdtree. Despite this insolent act, the Ancestral Followers would have their Death.
When the flames had all been extinguished, Fortissax landed before the temple stairs. A phalanx of Leyndell knights lead inside the temple in a tight formation as Godwyn dismounted the dragon. He placed a hand on his friend and said to him something that could not be heard over the angry shouting of the Ancestral Followers. Some had even pointed great bows at the dragon, though the knights were undaunted.
The chieftain roared in anger, silencing the other Followers. Godwyn was still speaking to the dragon. "Why have you come here, seed of bark!? The Siofra Settlement is on the other side of this ravine. You have no right to disrupt our most honored ritual!"
Despite his heavy golden armor, Godwyn turned with grace as he climbed the temple stairs. His hair flowed with a golden sheen. It was said that his golden eyes had inherited the Grace of his father's eyes. Golden Order superstition, no doubt, but Nokron saw how his people had become obsessed with these tales.
"I come to your people as a friend," Godwyn declared, showing his hands deferentially. "I carry no weapons. My presence here is only to bring you good news."
The chieftain snorted. "What do we care for the Golden Order's happenings? If you did not intend to fight, then you should not have come here in the first place."
"My name is Godwyn the Golden," he began with a genuine smile. "Child to Marika and the Elden Lord, Godfrey. Befriender of the dragons and loyal scion to the Golden Order. Ever since I learned of your plight, I pleaded with my mother to beseech the Greater Will to allow you freedom from the cruel cycle of death. And today my prayers were heard, and you have been accepted by the Erdtree." He turned a glancing look at Nokron. "You will truly be free of your cold ways now, priest. From this day forth, the Ancestral Followers are Graced by the Erdtree, and will wholly be accepted into its roots"
"What of the ones already touched by ghostflame?" Nokron countered. It would be a small victory, but Death did not discriminate. "The roots of the Erdtree will not accept them. Let them be untouched by your Grace and receive the Rite of Death."
In an instant, the look on Godwyn's face became somber. "I remember the same words were said of the dragons. That they were beasts that could not be saved. If I had heeded them, my dear friend would no longer be in the Greater Will's world, and my life would be all the poorer for it. To be honest with you, priest, your flame of death frightens me. So long as I have lived, death has not touched anyone I've known or cared for. I do not begrudge you your former way of life, but I simply cannot accept it, for there can be no life in death. I hardly wish that fate even on my enemies."
Nokron gave no response to Godwyn's words as the demigod turned once more to the chieftain. "The priest does bring forward a good contention. How can these beings before me live if they've already been touched by death?"
Upon these words, the dragon growled melodiously. Understanding flashed in Godwyn's eyes. "Right you are, my dear friend. Let this stand as a symbol of the strength of unity under the Erdtree. Princess Ranni, daughter of Rennala of the Carian Royal Family and Radagon of the Golden Order, serves in the interests of the Greater Will. She has integrated spirits into the Golden Order and can fashion them from these half-burnt corpses. Your fallen kin will be immortalized as ashen spirits."
"You insult our ways and would force us to abandon our ancestors!" The chieftain made no effort to hide her fury, and the Ancestral Followers were already reacting to it. "And you claim this to be a gift!? We refuse, spawn of bark! We will fight and die, time after time, until we cut your tree at its roots or it releases us from its 'Grace.'"
"I didn't expect you to accept it immediately," Godwyn remarked, becoming stern at the chieftain's anger. "But I assure you, I only seek to help you. The Greater Will has ordained a life of flourishing for you. Do not be a fool and turn your back on it."
"Or what? You will kill us? There is nothing you can hold over us. The time for words is over."
The chieftain signaled to her people. The Ancestral Followers attacked as one. The chieftain produced the skull of a stag from her buckle. Some of the Followers shot great arrows imbued in an ethereal blue light while others lunged at the demigod with axes made from horns and antlers.
Godwyn was shaken but prepared. With unnatural speed, he spread out his arms and diverged them like the hands of a clock. The arrows flying towards him were unmade in that instant, regressing into their components until all that remained of them were sticks, feathers, and stones clattering harmlessly on the ground and a wisp of blue light that flickered away. The knights formed a ring around Godwyn, their golden shields preventing anyone from reaching him.
Nokron didn't move. In truth, he had little investment in the fight. The Ancestral Followers were already Graced. Death would not claim them anymore, and neither would he. This was little more than a frantic tantrum.
Even so, the Ancestral Followers were fighting with all their might. The chieftain moved the skull in an arc, releasing a blue mist. Slowly, it crept into the crevices of the knight's golden armor. Gowdyn's regression did little to dissipate it, and some screamed in pain as it burned their flesh, but the formation held.
The dragon had stood quiet until then. But the knights were starting to falter, and even Godwyn looked fatigued. Two spears of red lightning formed in its claws. It thrust them forward, the prongs nimbly avoiding the demigod and his men but slaying all the Ancestral Followers who had gotten close. With a roar, it flicked the spears away. Red bolts of lightning surged through the temple. One pierced the chieftain, cutting her body in half. Another passed mere inches above Nokron as he silently watched the scene unfold.
The few remaining Ancestral Followers had stopped their assault, neither daring to charge the roaring dragon nor those in his protection. Some turned their eyes to Nokron, but he could not help them.
Godwyn dropped the stance of Regression and surveyed the carnage before him. There was a slight trace of fatigue in his features. "This is not their fault. Priest, tell them to return their people to the nearest Erdtree Roots and await their resurrection."
"I do not speak their tongue," Nokron replied simply. "Nor do I care to carry out the rites of your Order."
Godwyn put his hand behind his head and sighed in frustration. "Fair enough, priest. The Golden Order does not wage war without reason. This could not have been avoided, but it can be mitigated."
Cautiously, Godwyn climbed on a low broken column and called to the Ancestral Followers. "Though you do not understand me, I pray to the Greater Will that these words touch your hearts. I will take your leader and your kin to the roots below Leyndell. Their resurrection will be as instant as can be, so that you may begin your new life of bliss and blessing as one people. Princess Ranni will surely come here before that to turn your burned kin to ash."
Nokron didn't stay to hear Godwyn's speech, but the demigod called out to him before he could leave the temple. "Please wait, priest. Though we stand fundamentally opposed, I want you to know I mean you no ill will. I understand that the Ancestral Followers were the only remaining receivers of your rites, correct?"
Though Nokron stopped, he did not respond, so Godwyn continued. "Think of this as an opportunity, priest. Salvation from the Erdtree. You must possess great faith and devotion to persist for so many centuries. Come with me to Leyndell. A man of your piety, serving the Greater Will, would bring an endless depth of prophecy and blessing to the Golden Order. I will speak to Marika on your behalf. Is there truly nothing you wish for beyond death?"
"There is nothing, golden one," Nokron said without a moment of consideration. "But perhaps there is one last service I can perform for Death."
"And what is that?" Godwyn called after the priest.
But he did not answer. The designs of Death were not his concern. Nor did Nokron want to suffer his disapproval. Death worked quietly. So, Nokron did not declare his intentions. He only walked away.
Author's Note: This is the first chapter in a novella-length story. Throughout the story, I endeavored to fill in the gaps in the game's history as faithfully as possible, taking heavy inspiration from item descriptions, while adding creative elements to make an interesting narrative. I hope you enjoy following Nokron's journey and feel free to let me know your thoughts. The next chapter will come out within a week.