If you intend to inherit the Frenzied Flame, I ask that you cease. It is not to be meddled with.
It is chaos, devouring life and thought unending.
However ruined this world has become, life still remains. Birth continues.
Do not deny them this notion.
I ask of you, one final time. Please… seek not the Frenzied Flame.
You… have inherited the Frenzied Flame. A pity. You are no longer fit to become a Lord.
Our Accord ends here. But remember…
Should you become the Lord of Chaos… I will kill you.
This, I vow. As sure as night comes after day.
Sorrow consumed Melina as she glared up at the fractured, burned remnants of the Erdtree.
Sickly gouts of yellow flame flowed from its scorched wounds like gigantic tongues, licking toward the sky. The Frenzied Flame roared like a sun, bearing down on the Lands Between. Sorrow briefly turned to anger when Melina trudged through the smouldering ashen streets of Layndell.
Anger that swiftly faded to sorrow once again. No matter how hard Melina tried, she could not keep her rage for more than mere seconds.
It was an impossibility. The very notion clawed at her spirit.
After all, the one responsible for this destruction, this chaos, was and had always been very dear to her. The Tarnished. A soul of no renown from beyond the fog. Once cast out by Grace only to be recalled by Marika.
If he ever had a name, he had not given it. He never had the need and Melina never asked.
She gripped the handle of her silver curved knife and knelt down. Yellow embers danced around the charred corpse of some random soldier. Their armour melded into their skin and their skin into their bones. For the Yellow Flame would condense everything into one. The process was slow. An encroachment over the land. An unstoppable and inevitable force.
Sinking the pristine dagger into the corpse, Melina took several minutes to sever the head. Ash spilled from the open wound.
She had no clue why she had started this strange ritual. Just that the thought crossed her mind. Perhaps separating the head from the body would allow the soul some form of escape. It was probably a fruitless action.
Still, as she traversed the burnt, ashen streets, she did the same thing to each corpse she came across.
Countless times.
Leaving a trail behind her all the way up to the Elden Throne and the base of the Erdtree's remains.
The very idea of seeing inside the Erdtree was a distant pipe dream of Melina's. She knew she would never achieve it. It was her destiny to burn. To allow her spirit to serve as kindling. Yet the Tarnished took that away from her. Perhaps in a misguided effort to spare her. Or perhaps he gave little regard for Melina and simply acted on his own desires.
It didn't matter anymore.
She was here despite whatever destiny she used to have. She was here under the worst possible set of circumstances.
Coils of the sickly flame circled the hollowed Erdtree. A single path led toward the centre where a small pile of ash circled something glinting in the firelight.
She took in a sharp intake of breath. The glinting object gave her a great pause, memories flashed across her mind of a majestic galloping steed. It was a solitary ring. The very same she once bequeathed to the Tarnished. The only thing that bound Torrent, the Spectral Steed, to this world. The gold was marred with singed metal and glowing embers.
Plucking it from the mound of ash, Melina looked down with fondness for the beast. The ring was hot to the touch, but it bothered her little. She had once endured far worse.
She could no longer sense Torrent's life within. He was dead. Well and true.
Hot breath escaped Melina's lips. Rage bubbled up inside once again. It mixed with her anguish to coalesce into grim determination. Closing her fist around the ring, she raised her gaze toward the burning sky.
"Lord of Frenzied Flame…" her voice hoarse and strained, "I shall seek you, no matter how far you travel." She looked back down to her closed fist. It tightened, causing her knuckles to whiten. "To deliver what is yours…"
For the first time ever, both of Melina's eyes opened at once. Her once golden tinged eye was now a clouded milky grey. Deep within, a new fire burned.
Black tongues of flame danced from between her fingers and around her fists.
Her breath steadied and her next two words filled her with a stillness. A sense of purpose renewed.
"Destined Death."
A deep splash of water earned a mild grunt. Melina's cloak tugged on her neck as its hem soaked in the murky waters of Liurnia. It had been many ages since she had a physical form, so these mild inconveniences were more troubling than they ought to be. Since the burning of her flesh, Melina had only existed as a spirit, able to take shape only in the presence of a Site of Grace.
Now, there were no such Sites. The world was Graceless.
Yet, Melina had awoken with a new body. A means of finally interacting with the world. A dark comedy indeed. There wasn't going to be a world to interact with before long.
Liurnia had been less affected by the immediate fallout. Although the northern craggy outskirts had started to singe yellow, much of the inner lakes and marshland remained somewhat untouched, only showing minor signs of impending collapse. It wouldn't last for long. Even with Raya Lucarian sorcerers placing wards almost everywhere they could. The flame was unstoppable. It was a hopeless pursuit to slow its progress.
Blue pulses of mystical light even now flowed from the academy. Casting an azure hue over the waters surrounding it. They were casting a ritual of some description.
"Useless…" Melina whispered. She pushed forward through the swamp. It would be another few hours before she reached her destination. Another few hours wading through shin-high waters. It was a small mercy that her boots ran above her knees.
Eventually, her journey took her to solid ground. The site of a ruined encampment of Fire Monks crossed her path. The bulky corpses of the monks littered the ground, yet the brasiers still burned. Torches were still alight. Red fabric billowed in the wind. No one had bothered to scavenge the corpses. The crates of supplies, however, had been long since picked clean. Again, much like she had done in Layndell, she carefully removed the heads of each monk. Once she had, she left the camp and moved onward.
Coming up to her destination, she huffed. The cliff's edge was unassuming enough. The only landmark close by was the path that led to Liurnia's Divine Tower. A structure that was now in ruin, crumbled in half. However, her attention was instead drawn to the rickety wooden platform just near the edge. Hidden slightly by bushes and long grass. Hanging over the edge, a ladder ran down the length of the cliff. It was there that Melina was heading.
Jarburg.
A hidden village of Living Jars known only to the Jars themselves. Until now, that is.
"It's good to see you… Melina…" a timid, young girl dressed in green and yellow nodded when Melina reached the bottom of the ladder. Rya - or rather Zorayas - the snake-born, assuming her human form. The girl thought herself a blasphemous monster. Born of unholy rituals. Perhaps she was right. However, it mattered little these days. Melina gave her a nod and the bare minimum of a smile. "Did you… find what you were looking for?"
"No." Short and blunt, Melina walked toward the village with Rya at her side, barely keeping up with her. "The capital has been completely consumed. Nothing lives."
"Oh. I see." Rya sounded just as downtrodden as ever. Yet, she still tried to put on a brave face.
The village square played host to several others. A man named Diallos, maimed and unable to fight anymore. He sat on a patch of grass, tending to a young Jar who had muddied itself during play. Beyond him was Patches, leaning against a wooden fence. In Melina's own opinion, he was untrustworthy, cowardly and otherwise infuriating. However, his uncanny ability to scavenge valuable supplies made up for his shortcomings. Watching Diallos from across the way was a red headed young girl. The spitting image of Malenia. Once a victim to the Scarlet Rot, the girl had somehow completely purged the Rot from her body. Next to her, a sorceress stood at a desk set up in the yard of one of the houses, pondering over scrolls and tomes. The glintstone crown that usually adorned her head was now sitting at the edge of the desk. It allowed her long, flowing black hair to run free. Sellen if Melina remembered correctly.
Then there were the Jars. A young Warrior Jar yet to grow into his prime sat in his usual spot, keeping vigil over the place. Larger Jars ambled around the outskirts of the village, tending to flower beds filled with rare herbs.
In this hidden away settlement, one could almost forget the encroaching doom of the Frenzied Flame.
"Did you - by chance - manage to visit the Manor? Perhaps Lady Tanith returned?" Rya asked, even though she knew full well what the answer would be. All Melina did in response was shoot her a harsh look. "Forgive me… I know I have no right to ask such things…" she looked like a kicked puppy. It warmed Melina's heart enough for her to place a tender hand on the girl's blonde hair.
"I was not able to travel to Gelmir this time. Perhaps on my next excursion." It hurt to know of Lady Tanith's fate and not tell Rya. It was just another one of the Tarnished's incomprehensible actions.
He showed Rya kindness and compassion even after the girl discovered her origins. Yet, that kindness had not extended to Tanith. The Tarnished slew her at her lowest point without so much as a second thought.
Melina's mind turned to the others gathered in Jarburg.
Each one had some connection to the Tarnished. They had received aid from him at one point or another. Yet, despite that, the Tarnished had still become the Lord of Chaos. What was the point of it? Investing so much effort into helping these people, only to doom them.
Was it a cruel joke?
"Oi, Diallos, she's back." Melina heard Patches say. Diallos looked up from his work and smiled. He shifted his weight on the grass and - with help from the Jar he was tending to - hoisted himself up and onto a crutch. His lame left leg hung uselessly, forcing him to balance his weight on his right as well as the crutch itself.
"Melina." He nodded.
"Potentate." Melina replied. He frowned but chose not to bring up whatever his grievance was. She repeated her findings to him and he gave a long sigh. "On my return journey, I scouted the abandoned ailing village to the north. The flame has not changed its pace. Yet it encroaches still."
"Do you know how long it'd take to reach us here?"
Melina hummed in thought. Her brow furrowed. "I would say mayhaps a month. That is if it remains consistent."
"A month to live? Best get a move on with my Bucket List, ey? No? … No?" Patches at least tried to make light of the news. Not that anyone was even remotely in the mood for it. "Bugger me, it's like the world's ending!"
"The world is ending, Patches." Diallos growled.
Patches' shoulders slouched. To the man's credit, he was - in his own unique way - trying to help. Melina couldn't fault him for that. She just wished his attempts weren't quite so abrasive. Either way, Melina addressed Diallos once more. "I would halt the spread if I had the means. This body of mine was given for a purpose, that I know. What of Sellen and her research? She… looks perturbed."
"It's actually the opposite. Young Millicent's arrival has apparently brought about a potential breakthrough. You know how Sellen is. All serious and dour even when revelling in new discoveries."
"Aye." Melina glanced toward the Sorceress with a fresh perspective. True enough, she looked as though her tomes had personally insulted her, but if Melina really concentrated, there was a very distinct energy to her movements. A renewed purpose, so to speak. "I would speak with her." Without another word, she marched toward Sellen and Millicent. She had left Rya in the dust and briefly glancing back, Melina saw the snake-born look quite unsure of what to do.
"Hail, Lady Melina," Millicent smiled with warmth. Seeing such an expression on such features as hers gave Melina pause. A flash of her sister crossed her mind. It left the kindling maiden with a sense of longing she quickly tried stifling.
"Hail." She nodded slowly. Her eyes trailed down toward Sellen's desk. Several familiar objects were scattered amongst the parchment and tomes.
Needles.
Originally, Melina believed there only to be a single one of such artefacts. That turned out not to be the case. When Millicent first arrived in Jarburg - seeking refuge from the Flame - she had brought a veritable horde of the things along with her. The claim was she had found a trove deep within the Haligtree.
Mumblings came from Sellen's lips as her finger traced lines of text.
"Miquella… Malenia. The Scarlet Rot. Hmm… unalloyed gold. Is there a connection to the Frenzied Flame? Writings on the needles say they can suppress the influence of Outer Gods. Does that mean all Outer Gods…" Her brow furrowed. "Blast it. These texts are almost useless. The library at the academy might have what I need. Hm. Although she would still be lurking about."
It didn't take a genius to guess who 'she' was.
"Sellen, Lady Melina is here." Millicent lent down and tried getting the scholar's attention. The woman merely waved her away, all but ignoring what the girl was saying. "My apologies, my Lady, Sellen can be… quite stubborn."
"I see it as commendable. In a sense." Melina shrugged. "That aside, have you had any trouble with your affliction?"
Millicent spared a glance to the prosthetic limb still attached to her arm. She let out a small sigh and rolled the joint a few times. The limb was ancient, yet it still moved as organically as a real flesh and blood arm. "The Rot has completely left my body. As if it had simply abandoned me. Where once was a myriad of whispers swarming my head, now there is silence. It can be quite frightening to think my own thoughts unhindered, but I much prefer my state now than I did before."
According to Millicent, she had no idea how the Rot came to leave her body. The girl had resigned herself to death, slumped over a rock in the Haligtree. After defeating her four sisters, Millicent had come to refuse the Rot's twisted machinations. And yet, death never came for her. The Rot just vanished.
Mysterious indeed. Yet that was exactly what the Outer Gods were.
"I am pleased." Melina found herself smiling at Millicent's words. This girl was decidedly not Melania, even still, Melina couldn't help but feel a certain bond between herself and Millicent. Similar to that of family, but at the same time, something more akin to responsibility.
After another moment, Sellen huffed and finally noticed that she was no longer alone. She looked Melina up and down with an intense gaze. "Oh. 'Tis you."
The demigod in Melina wanted to admonish the scholar for such disrespect. Instead, she settled for a curt nod and a quiet grunt. "Were you not researching the Primeval Current?" It was all the woman could talk about for a long time. She theorised that Glintstone was the key to beating back the Frenzied Flame. If she could only complete her research and reopen the Primeval Current.
Of course, that notion died soon after she was almost taken by the flame during an experiment. The incident apparently opened her eyes.
Now, it seemed her focus had moved to Miquella and his divine creations. Melina's memories of her brother were faint. As if they were lost in a thick fog. She could picture his diminutive form. His smile. But not his voice, his actions or the emotions Melina once felt toward him. The only concrete feeling she could recall was warmth. The same went for Melania. Only, in her case, the Tarnished saw to it that she was put to rest at long last. Melina's thoughts on that particular result were mixed.
"I can't rightly continue with that pursuit when the sky itself is burning. No matter. My plans can wait." Her shoulders slouched and a hand idly rested on the greenish crystal growing from the scalp of her crown. "With all the power Glintstone can possess, it pales in comparison to the ancient Astrologers. These needles, however, are unimaginably powerful. According to Millicient here, a single one completely suppressed the Scarlet Rot inside."
"Suppressed… but not cured." Millicent reminded her.
"Yes, yes. Important distinction to be sure," as if she were a fussing teacher, Sellen waved a dismissive hand, "but the texts I managed to find on the topic suggest that these needles are of incomplete make. Something is missing and that is what I'm trying to figure out."
"Mayhaps the needle I used was modified somehow? It does seem somewhat different to the rest I found." Millicent poked at one of the implements in particular. Sure enough, it appeared more silvery than the rest. As if the metal itself had transformed. "Some level of Alchemy mayhaps?"
"I'm no Perfumer, though I can't rule that possibility out." Sellen picked the needle in question up. Studying it closely. With her free hand, she drew a sigil in the air and allowed blue mist to shower the object. Her eyes glowed as the sorcery was cast. "The material remains the same. Yet its power is considerably more potent than the others. True enough, something has changed. Mayhaps the influence of the Scarlet Rot somehow… matured the needle's power. As if Unalloyed Gold was some sort of fine wine."
"Then mayhaps time is the answer? Its power grows with exposure and time?" Melina pondered. Sellen looked as though the suggestion wasn't the craziest thing ever. That said, there was just one problem. "Nay, time is something we have very little of."
"Indeed…" Sellen sighed.
Either way, the needles were worth looking into.
Of course, Melina knew the eventual goal. It weighed heavy on her heart with each passing day. She lifted up a hand and pondered her burn scars. Although this body was new, her scars remained. Black flame swirled around her index finger, alighting in a small orb at its point. This new power was curious. She knew of the Black Flame, of course. The creation of the Godskin to fight the gods themselves. However, she had never used it, but now, it was second nature.
Both Millicent and Sellen took a subtle step back from Melina. "As intriguing as your abilities are, Melina, we don't need more soul devouring flame about the place." Sellen huffed, prompting Melina to quickly douse the flame. "Now, what of the academy? Surely you spared a glance during your excursion?"
"They remain still. Grasping at their false hopes."
A sneer befell Sellen's features. "Of course they are. Cowards all."
"Did… you encounter any of the Ailing?" Millicent asked, her query earned a wince.
The Ailing - as they had come to be known - were souls consumed by the Flame, yet their bodies remained. They were sent out as agents of the Flame to spread the chaos. Consumed by madness, some were little more than wild beasts, acting on pure instinct. Others were afflicted more potently, mutating their bodies into hideous abominations. The most dangerous of which were the Aging Untouchable.
"Aye. I slew them well enough." Melina gave a sorrow filled sigh at that. "But they grow in number by the day."
"Lady Melina!" Diallos beckoned from across the square, sudden urgency staining the air. "One of the Scout Jars just reported a struggle against a group of Ailing. Up near the old artist's shack!"
Immediately, Melina broke away from her conversation. "Patches, follow."
"M-me!? I'm not going out there!" The kindling maiden's mismatched eyes glared at him. Burning into his soul. Sweat beaded around his bald scalp. "On second thought… sure! Beautiful day for a stroll!" He hung his head and miserably reached for his spear and shield. The comically large hunk of metal was nearly as tall as he was. Perfect for a cowardly combatant. Still, he was at least somewhat useful as mobile cover.
Together, the two rushed toward the ladder. It was a long climb, but urgency demanded haste. If someone had indeed survived on their own, perhaps they could offer something in the way of answers.
"Ladies first!" Patches grinned, only to receive another soul piercing glare. "Fine! You're no fun, you know that?"
Soon, they came upon their destination. The rotted husk of a shack built atop the hill.
Groaning permeated the air.
Shambling figures battered against an incredibly makeshift barricade. Each of the Ailing's eyes were burning sickly yellow, set ablaze by the frenzy. It was always a haunting sight, but it was also a dangerous one. For even mere eye contact alone planted the seeds of madness in one's soul.
"Remember, Patches. Keep your eyes on the ground."
"Yeah, I know." He huffed in frustration.
Melina dashed forward, her curved blade at the ready. The shack was surrounded by many of the Ailing, so her first priority was the weaker parts of the barricades.
The blade sank deep into the cranium of an Ailing. Holy power radiated from the wound, killing the Ailing where it stood. She withdrew her weapon and made a harsh gesture. Black fire cascaded over two more, setting their bodies alight. The black flame continuously burned, setting off a chorus of horrific screeching.
Now Melina had their attention.
Meanwhile, Patches hesitated, studying the beginnings of the conflict. Some of the Ailing broke off and charged his position. He yelped and braced against his greatshield. The tip of his spear poked in a frantic effort, barely scraping his targets. Each solid impact against the shield sent him a step backward.
Another surge of Black Flame burst from Melina's gestures.
She unhooked a bell from her belt and gave it a solid ring. Ghostly mist surrounded her briefly before coalescing nearby. Three spectral wolves came into being and immediately rushed to their master's aid.
They snarled and lashed with ferocious maws, immediately tearing down another of the Ailing.
A brief lapse in attention caused Melina to take a heavy blow to the stomach. It sent her reeling backward, struggling for breath. She caught sight of a larger Ailing clutching his head. His body tensed and he shivered in building fury.
"Patches, back. Now!" Melina dashed backward, bracing her arm over her eyes.
Seconds later, the Ailing let loose a shriek that could shatter glass. Power thrummed and pounded from the shriek and it struck both Melina and Patches with full force.
Her insides burned with the frenzy's influence. She groaned in agony for a brief moment and her ears felt as though they had been burst wide open. A strained squeal escaped her throat and from a reflexive motion, she produced a yellowish ball of mossy medicine from one of her belt pouches. Then, she forced it down her gullet. Patches did the same with one of his own. The invading influence faded and Melina pushed on together with her summoned wolves.
Light shone from her Blade of Calling and with a slice, a wave of holy force shot through the air. It struck the howling, shrieking Ailing in the throat, cutting off its voice with a sickening gargle.
Patches rushed forward and finished the poor soul off with a swift spear thrust to the eye socket.
Motes of yellow fire rained from the side, striking the ground around them. One mote detonated on contact with one of the spectral wolves. It yelped and staggered as ghostly fur singed. Melina ordered her wolves forward. Two of them grabbed the Ailing responsible for the raining fire. Jaws clenched on each wrist.
Taking the opportunity, Patches threw a Kukri, sinking the thick blade squarely in the forehead.
He bellowed with delighted surprise.
Emboldened, he slammed his shield into another advancing Ailing. Only, he realised too late that this one was a bit more bulkier than the rest. Even more so than the shrieking one earlier.
Thick hands clasped each side of the shield. Monstrous snarls gurgled from its throat and with a vicious heave, the Ailing ripped the shield from Patches' grasp. He yelped and staggered back. "Oi! Don't you know it's rude to steal! Give it back!"
Using its newly acquired toy, the Ailing swung the shield down. The earth rumbled underfoot with the sheer force. It was aiming for Patches, though the man was quicker than what even Melina thought.
Still, he couldn't keep his own against something like that. With a gesture, Melina sent her wolves in to help.
Spectral teeth gnashed and bit, forcing the brute back. It let go of the shield and batted away one of the wolves. It caught another and with a truly bone chilling groan, it glared down into the spirit's ghostly eyes. Virulent fire coursed through the luminescent body before exploding. Wisps of spirit scattered across the grass, slowly dissipating into vapour.
Melina gathered power in her left hand. Roiling black flame grew into a large orb and with a throw, the orb struck true, bursting and covering the brute in the soul eating flame.
It wailed and flailed its arms.
The two remaining wolves took advantage of the opening and went for the final blow. Soon, the battlefield fell silent. The last of the Ailing fell to Patches' spear and with a wet grinding of metal against flesh, he cleaned the blood from its point.
"Well, that's that, then." He jeered, as if he wasn't terrified. To his credit, he held his own. "They're getting a little too close for my liking. Are you sure we're safe in that tiny little hamlet?"
"Quite. I personally placed countermeasures against invaders." Although he was right about this attack being close. "Quickly, make certain we are secure." At her order, Patches let out a small grumble, but did as he was told. He made a wide circle around the shack, looking out over the southern fields from where they had hiked. He checked behind rocky outcroppings, in the foliage and along the nearby cliff's edge.
He gave his all clear and finally, Melina sheathed her dagger.
From within the husk of a shack, there were hushed voices and the sound of movement. "We mean no harm. You are safe." She called. The voices hushed and for a moment, there was silence.
Then, a section of the barricade shifted. A length of scrap wood slid to the side to reveal a small opening. From the hole, the head of a Demi-human became visible. One that Melina recognised.
"Young Boc?" She asked. The little fellow looked surprised at hearing his name. He fidgeted with his feathered hat and nodded confirmation.
"Aye, m'lady!" He stuttered over his words and looked hesitant to leave the building. From behind, a gentle hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up and some of the tension melted from his body. A girl's head came into view, leaning down to look out of the opening. Blonde hair draped over a sombre expression. Sunken eyes and porcelain skin marred with burns.
By the looks of it, they were only a few days old. Melina felt sympathy at the sight, but also a little suspicion. Fortunately for the girl, her eyes didn't hold the yellow of madness.
Melina also recognised this person. Roderika the Spirit Tuner.
"'Tis a pleasure to meet you, kind lady." The girl smiled through her obvious pain. When Melina saw her last, she wasn't so gaunt. Crestfallen, yes, but still relatively in good health. It wasn't a surprise Roderika didn't recognise Melina. After all, she had technically never met her. Only the Tarnished. "Many thanks for the rescue. We… were chased across the lake by those things."
"These lands are dangerous. More so since the sky was set aflame." Melina said, kneeling down toward the small opening. "I am Melina."
Boc awkwardly chuckled. "B-Boc, m'lady. Seamster and… well… Demi-human."
"You say that as though it were some foul offence. Boc, you know you're worth more than that!" Roderika uttered, tightening her hand on his shoulder. Still, she gave Melina a smile, a sense of recognition stirring in her eyes. "I am Roderika. To think we would find aid from a demigod! Forgive me, but the legends speak of your death."
"Aye." A pained frown tugged Melina's lips. "In body only. Until just recently." Her very brief glance toward the burning sky probably clued Roderika into the implications.
"Oi, are you done over there? Diallos is probably going to send the whole damn Jar population after us if we don't head back soon!" Patches yelled from a few yards down the trail. Keeping his vigil on the road.
"The man is correct. Will you join us? I can offer haven from the Ailing." Melina offered her hand down to Boc. Although she tried smiling, it likely didn't look all that welcoming.
With mild hesitation, the Demi-human took the offered hand and together, they shifted more of the barricade away. It allowed Roderika to finally leave easily. The girl let out a harsh gasp at the corpses littering the grass. "These poor souls… their spirits all but destroyed." She was muttering under her breath.
The two surviving wolves had yet to fade so once Roderika stepped out of the sack, they appeared to be drawn to her.
They happily panted and allowed the woman to pet their heads. She giggled as one licked her cheek. As they were merely spirit entities, it didn't leave any saliva or residue of any kind. After both were satisfied with the affection, they allowed their forms to fade back into mist and dust, resting until Melina called upon them once again.
Meanwhile, the little Demi-human had a strange, curious look about him.
"M'lady… if I may; that ring around your neck… I know that ring." Boc's clawed finger pointed to Torrent's whistle ring now hung with a leather string. The embers still danced over its surface, but the object simply refused to fade away.
"Aye…" Melina took it in hand and lovingly gazed down on it. "It belonged to your Lord… the Tarnished. I bestowed it upon him when we first met. Now… it is merely a reminder of what I must do." Her fingers curled over the ring. The rest didn't need to be said. She half expected both Boc and Roderika to take umbrage with the sentiment. However, instead, they both stared into the burning sky.
"I would help you in that pursuit…" Roderika spoke sombrely, adding; "if you would have me."
"Of course."
Author's Notes:
This is more of a proof of concept. If there is interest, I'm more than happy to continue. This sort of thing isn't my usual style. It's an experiment, but I did have fun writing this little starter. Even if the subject matter is pretty damn depressing. Let me know what you think! I love seeing feedback.