So, the entire deal of the last chapter is that Elden Ring was inspired by alchemy and other occult arts. One of the biggest symbols of that was the image of a son lying with his mother so she could birth him anew. In fact, this is the whole deal with the deathbed companions. Fia lays with Godwyn and rebirths him as the Rune of Death. Is Marika aware of and complacent with Godwyn's feelings towards her? I haven't decided.
Hewg didn't remember the last time he was allowed outside. Months perhaps when a group consisting of himself and other Misbegotten were marched from their homes towards the mines in the south. The long march through the rain and mud may have been days ago, years ago, or even decades ago.
It was hard to say. In the darkness and isolation of Morne tunnel, time all ran together.
All Hewg knew was that every day afterward was the same day as before. He stood at his anvil with his hammer in one hand and forged the very chains, link by link and yard by yard, that bound both him and his kind; the gray scaley misbegotten who were neither men nor beasts. Instead, they were more like a mismatched of parts; legs like goats that had feet with talons. Some with wings and others with scales. Their mouths were even misshaped into a hideous grin.
"There was a time we were blessed," said the Old Scaley Misbegotten.
These were the typical ramblings of the Old Scaely One. Each night, all gathered around her by the small fire and listened as she told of times before the Erdtree. Her capacity for detail captivated the younger ones, but it didn't mean she told the truth.
It was hard to remember that time. Everything that might have reminded Hewg of what it was like back then, was gone. Marika's reign as goddess meant that all signs of the crucible be gone. Villages were burned and rebuilt. Effigies were toppled. Every statue was replaced. Books were rewritten. Even the Great Tree itself was guilded in gold to show that Marika's reign was absolute. There was not one place in the whole Lands-Between where it was visible. Now even Hewg's memory was something he couldn't recall.
"Even as Marika spins new life, we are born. We are as much her children as the demigods," the Old Scaley One continued.
"Ha!" laughed Hewg. He had a fit of coughing after he burst out laughing. "Y'all think we are offspring of Queen Marika? Oh my dear, her beauty is unsurpassed. What would she have to breed with to make some stitched-together slags like us? Maybe a bird? Or perhaps a reptile of some kind? Maybe we were the ones last in line and all she had was spare parts?"
"You are cruel, Hewg," said the Old Scaley One and she slinked away.
"Aww, don't be mad. Wherever we come from, this is where we ended up," said Hewg as he began to pound his hammer again. "There ain't no going backward."
These stories had the power to spark a flicker of hope in the younger ones, but those sparks were all too often snuffed out by the Golden Order as though they never existed. To war against Marika, was to war against a goddess. As much as they wished to believe such a task was trivial, but if there was one thing Hewg recalled in his dimming memory it was this: a god was not so easily felled.
The guards' horns echoed down the tunnels to signal the end of the work day. Each Misbegotten lined up so to be counted and their finds checked to see if they met their quota. If anyone was too slow, whips made them go faster. Speaking was punishable by a beating. Blasphemy against Queen Marika was met with far worse.
When that was done, they were herded into the cramped steel cages where they would sleep.
Hewg lay on the hard dirt while he listened to the cries of his fellows as the guards disciplined them. He had grown too used to such noises of despair. The cries, moans, sighs and screams all were as normal to him as a birdsong might be for anyone else. And it reminded Hewg to continue to keep his head low and his hopes faint. If they were focused on those who failed to meet expectations or follow rules, then they would not focus on Hewg. He was free to have his private thoughts and his prayers.
He reached under the pulled out a pink handkerchief. The master's daughter, Irena, dropped it. A beautiful little child. When Hewg picked it up, he thought time and time again how he might best return it to her, as he was certain she must have missed it.
He had the conversation over and over in his mind. How he might approach her. What he might say and what she might say back. The fact she had no sight made Hewg confident that he could do so without her fearing him like so many others had.
Alas, that was years ago since she dropped it. And yet while Hewg knew intellectually that returning it and having that imaginary conversation wasn't possible, imagining it was all he had. All that could bring him enough peace to drift off into sleep.
The rain seeped down into the tunnels and caused Hewg to shiver awake. The whole place was damp with all the torches and fires put out and the complete darkness played tricks on the mind. He was about to return to sleep when there came the sound of something crashing in one of the rooms. Hewg thought it was nothing. Perhaps the tools fell over or one of the drunk guards tripped.
Then came the blood-curdling scream from somewhere deep within the caverns.
The other Misbegotten were awake, whispering among themselves what that might be. There was fear as many began to pray to the Lords of the Crucible for help. There were a few flashes of light and echoing voices from guards as they ran through the tunnels in search of whatever it was. More screams and one guard, still with his torch in hand, stuttered into the cave as he spit out a mouthful of blood. He then collapsed in front of Hewg's cage.
Hewg's heart raced when he saw the hulking creature creep into the room. It's mouth salivated at the sight of the helpless creatures and it snarled. The beast had many names but only one reputation: the dark enforcer of Marika's will.
"No, no, no," begged Hewg when Maliketh looked at him with those yellow eyes. He curled up in his cage with his hands over his head. "Not you! I swear I don' know nothing. I hadn't done nothin' wrong. I promise Marika had nothin' to fear from me. I swear it."
"Marika hath summoned thee, wrench," said Maliketh.
"Oh, please... I swear I'd do anything. Please, don't just take me to her again. Please," cried Hewg.
Maliketh smashed his claw against the side of the cage, which threw Hewg against the bars. He hit his head against the steel and after that, everything went black.
There were fleeting moments of consciousness, then blackouts. Voices speaking and then again things went dark. Never was it long enough for Hewg to see where Maliketh took him. And when he did come to, he was inside by a fire, lying on the warm wooden floor.
With a groan, Hewg eased himself up, touching the stone wall. His eyes began to adjust and all too soon he realized where he was. The old forge. The weapons are strewn about. The doorway where he saw the edge of the wooden table.
"What?" gasped Hewg. He knew this place. There was a point in his life where Hewg called it "home" and those who came here called him "the honored craftsman." Sure, it was impossible, but he was there again.
"The Roundtable Hold? That's impossible," said Hewg.
He laid his hand on the forge, and tears streamed down his face as he realized it was real. He picked up his hammer, and let the weight settle in his hands. It was his. The tool he crafted himself to be right just for him so that his technique and skill remained consistent.
The echoes of laughter and comradery among warriors were replaced with a dark and eerie silence. Godfrey's grand speeches were long gone as was he. And when Hewg stepped forward, he realized his leg was shackled to the wall and he let out a disappointed sigh. Even at home, he was still a prisoner. A fact he wished he hadn't grown so used to.
"How is it that I'm here?" said Hewg.
"Not how, Master Hewg, but why."
Hewg lifted his eyes and could barely gasp out the words, "Queen Marika?"
She might have been there the entire time or just arrived. Time and space had no meaning to a goddess after all. As far as Hewg knew, she could be in two places at once, take on any form, and even move through the Lands-Between unseen. She was both knowable and unknowable. Seen and hidden. Both anywhere and yet nowhere at all. And both the same young girl he knew from so long ago, and a completely different woman as well.
Whatever her nature was, Hewg dropped to the ground and clasped his hands together as he pleaded for her mercy.
"I swear I hadn't done nothin' to ya. Never said nothin' 'gainst ya. Never spoken yer name in blasphemy or heresy. I have always honored you, I swear," begged Hewg. His entire body trembled at the terror of her.
"If I had any wrath against thee, I would have seen thee devoured at the hand of my shadow already," replied Marika.
"What could the queen want with lil 'ol me? I'm a prisoner now..."
"I am a prisoner too, Hewg. Enslaved in the same manner as thee."
"I... I see," said Hewg.
"Grant thy enslaved Queen one request."
"What could I possibly do for you?"
"I ask for a weapon that could slay a god," said Marika.
Hewg was stunned at the request. Under the crucible, while he was still just a pup, he and his master had set out before on such a work, but something of such quality was not easily created. They were meticulous, methodical, and even could be considered clever. They learned to forge in the stones that fell from Farum Azula into even the most common and brittle of steel to make something strengthened well beyond its native properties. And while the conclusion of this magnum opus was far from complete, what they accomplished in building technique was far more advanced than anything else.
"In the end, technique never fails."
What Hewg did remember of those days with the master he considered more as his father, was now a fog. It was a thing he tried to remember from time to time, but when he tried to recall, he couldn't bring it up. He spent too long mending his own shackles to remember the old crafts and he doubted with his age that the skill could ever be brought back without spending centuries at the forge.
"My Queen, I don't know that I could live long enough to see your request fulfilled," said Hewg.
Marika grew angry, "Am I not the bestower of life and the conqueror of death? Life and death are mine alone. If I wish thee to live forever, then shall thou live forever."
"I-I didn't mean to offend ya. Of course I will do what yer askin'. But I don't understand. You are the one goddess. There ain't nobody who stands above ya. What purpose can there be to slay a god anymore?" said Hewg.
Then Hewg realized he answered his own question. With a somber face, he picked up his old hammer and muttered, "I will do as ya ask."
Marika closed her eyes and gave a deep breath as though she came to the end of a long journey.
"Whatever thou needs, I will see to it. No one will harm thee here, that is my promise. And perhaps in time, we will both shrug off our shackles."
"May I just say one thing to a goddess before ya go? And don' be thinking I mean nothing bad by it," Hewg asked.
Marika nodded.
"I just wanted to say... that all the things that happened between us... I ain't ever had nothin' against ya. The others were angry, but I understood. And if ya believe I can make this weapon, so be it. We'll find a way, right? Who can fail with a goddess on his side? But what I really wanted to say is that... well, it's been a while, hadn't it?
"Yes."
"I missed ya, Fair Lady. Truly, I did."
"And I as well," said Marika. She paused and then added, "Old Friend."
We are the metals' first nature and only source,
The highest tincture of the art is made through us.
No fountain and no water has my like I make both rich and poor men whole or sick.
For deadly can I be and poisonous. (Fabricius, 19)