Author's note: Well...not much to say except that the cliffhanger it ended on funnily was an IRL gap that happened for a couple months as we experienced writer's burnout. Y'all get to enjoy it much faster than it took for us to get back into the flow of things.
Bjorn, Liurnia
Things were relatively uneventful as Bjorn made his way around the decrepit Stormveil Castle to utilize the sidepath to enter Liurnia of the Lakes. He'd heard Godrick the Golden had lost his mind long ago, and he didn't want any part of the grafting process that had become the norm. He needed a Great Rune, and figured the most logical one to pursue was the one held by Renalla, Queen of the Full Moon. Radahn was too far out of the way, and Godrick was simply disturbing to him. Plus, Bjorn's understanding of magic has grown considerably since he'd started practicing sorcery. This made him a traitor in the eyes of Golden Order fundamentalists and others of high faith, but he hoped the Greater Will itself understood that he had good reason to grow his power in any way he could.
The blue skies had a purplish tint as Bjorn made his way towards Raya Lucaria Academy. He had to obtain a key from a small nearby isle guarded by a sleeping dragon who had been seemingly imbued by the power of glintstone. After dealing with him and the small armada guarding the entrance, he finally made his way up to the academy entrance. The door was guarded by two mages adorned in Raya Lucarian robes and helms modeled after Karolos and Olivinous, two sorcerers that made invaluable contributions to the study of glintstone magic.
While they were people, Bjorn had little issue slaying these two since he didn't have to see their eyes. He began making his way through sorcerers and living jars alike as he smashed his way through the halls of the school, even utilizing his own knowledge of magic to cast a large gavel to smash a living jar that attempted to rapidly spin towards him to pieces. The halls soon grew quiet, and he could quietly ponder his next move as he walked around, taking in the hallways around him.
Not many Golden Order fundamentalists had seen the halls of the Academy, so in a weird way he saw it as an honor. He thought also of Asher, wondering where he could be during all this. When they were young, Asher would be the more adventurous of them, always bringing Bjorn to the most interesting new places. He also knew how to get them into trouble more often than not by poking around where he should not. He had to still be alive, right? His thoughts were soon interrupted when he moved quickly and at the last minute to dodge a glowing blue blade, the wind hitting his face as it flew just within reach of his head. He turned to see the glowing blue eyes of a young woman staring back at him.
Kira, Raya Lucaria
The golden-armored man turned with inhuman speed and smoothly stepped away from her Carian Slicer. Kira cursed under her breath, the element of surprise was gone and now he looked at her with disconcertingly blank eyes. Usually when you tried to kill someone, there was fear, hatred or even anger in their face but this man, there was nothing, no emotion that she could read or exploit. Kira held her estoc up in the ready position but her opponent didn't react in any way except to look at her impassively.
He was mocking her, he had to be and Kira felt an unfamiliar flush of anger heating her face. Her hand was steady on the estoc, the hilt coldly reassuring in her hands but the man had a Greatsword strapped to his back. She didn't want to get too close to him until she understood his fighting style and how he had so carelessly killed the other sorcerers. Bringing her staff up, the tip gleamed blue as Kira cast Star Showers at the golden man in front of her. The man simply batted them aside with his armored hands and Kira tried to press her opening by thrusting with her Estoc. The blade stopped with a jarring thud against his breastplate and Kira skipped backwards in alarm. What was wrong with this man? Did he have no sense of self-preservation?
"Mind my asking, but are you quite finished? I've no business with you and do not wish to carry this engagement further." He said in a rather unimpressed tone.
"Kisama…" Kira hissed at him venomously. She normally never lost her composure but this man's indifference to both her and her attacks made her feel helpless, an emotion she swore she would never experience again. There wasn't much time left to take him down, she knew he was only waiting to see what sorceries she knew. Raya Lucaria had always taught the importance of keeping one's spells hidden until the right time to keep opponents off balance. That was a mage's greatest advantage, surprise and adaptability; that was the only reason he had not immediately attacked though she could sense his growing impatience through the veil of indifference.
Speed, that was the only advantage she had now. Kira cast a barrage of spells, Rock Sling, Cometshard, Star Showers, Carian Grandeur, and Glintstone Arc. The air was filled with the distinctive blue of her magic spells and she was sure that one of them had connected when she saw the man holding a staff in his golden hands. The man was skillfully blocking her spells with precise swipes and spins of his own staff. Looking closer, its circular head was covered in dark blue crystals that glittered under the evening light and Kira went cold when she recognized it. It was Lusat's staff. How-
Kira had no time to ponder further when she heard an ominous humming as its tip glimmered with the familiar turquoise of the Battlemage spells. She threw herself behind a pillar as the Cannon of Haima spell landed with devastating concussive force where she had been standing. An explosion of turquoise smoke and blinding light blew outwards from the contact point of the spell. Even with her cover, Kira was blown backwards across the hall and landed with a thud amidst the wreckage of broken benches and burning books. Her ears rang and she painfully pulled herself upright using the staff as a crutch. The man was standing in the exact same position, the only change in his posture being his raised staff.
Bjorn, Raya Lucaria:
He resumed his original posture shortly after, looking at the young mage struggling to stand. There was a twinge of sympathy he felt, seeing her face mildly contorted in pain. "I sincerely don't want to hurt you, noble sorceress. My business here does not concern you, so please do-"
His words were stopped abruptly by a sight all too familiar to him. Upon standing straight, the sorceress had cast a Comet and sent it hurtling towards him. The sight of it alone was enough to bring the memories flooding back to the forefront. The relentless hours of training, seeing so many men torn to shreds by the powerful spell before his very eyes. Before, he had felt general indifference towards the sorceress, if not some sympathy. Now all there was was blinding rage and hatred.
Acting upon pure instinct, he retrieved his shield and repelled the Comet straight back where it had come from with Golden Retaliation. The Comet, now shining a brilliant gold, slammed into the sorceress with such speed and force that it knocked her backwards into the unforgiving wall. Before she could gather her bearings, he was immediately upon her, hoisting her up by the neck and shoving her back against the now-damaged wall. With a firm grip on his Greatsword's hilt, he was only a moment from beheading the woman before he suddenly stopped. He looked into her light blue eyes and once again felt that same twinge of sympathy. He saw pain, a look of frustration that felt all too familiar to him. Bjorn had seen that same look of frustration in Asher's eyes, frustration at his weakness tinged with fear at the loss of control. "I will not engage you any further. Leave me be." He said plainly before throwing her to the side. He looked at her but briefly, then resumed making his way towards the Grand Library.
Kira, Raya Lucaria
The man's grip at her throat was tight and she was already dizzy with pain. The golden retaliation had almost broken her ribs and she was hanging on by a thread when he had thrown her against the wall. Kira had thought she was dead when she saw his hand going to the hilt of his Greatsword and she was determined to stare him down. But when the gigantic blade had cut close to her head, she had closed her eyes at the inevitable end, sending a quick prayer out to whatever gods inhabited the Lands Between.
But the man had stopped and Kira opened her eyes to see it, the spark of sympathy in his dark brown eyes, and that cut deeper than any indifference. She wasn't someone to be pitied, someone so weak that they needed mercy. She wasn't. She wasn't. The man threw her to the side and the impact sent Kira into the dark unconsciousness she had been holding at bay.
There was the sound of crackling flame and the smell of blood. Kira soundlessly moved into the once-fine room, the tatami mats rough under her bare feet. She wore the ceremonial scarlet and black kimono of her clan, its weight unfamiliar and heavy about her limbs. A white strip of silk was bound around her face, hiding her blue eyes, and her vision was limited by the black kanji painted along cloth's edges. All of the prominent members of her family sat at the long table and there was a bowl of water already stained red. Kira pricked her finger with the edge of a tanto to let her own blood join the bowl. Her mother and father sat at both ends of their table, their faces stern and unmoving under the paper lanterns.
There was a soft pad of footsteps approaching from beyond the rice screen doors, a shadow rippling across the opaque paper. They all stood and bowed when it slid open and Kira barely had time enough to blink when there was a warm spray. Something fell in her lap and liquid soaked into the white obi tight around her waist. Kira looked down slowly to see the blank eyes of a severed head staring back up at her. She screamed and scrambled to her feet as the corpses of her entire family fell to the ground soundlessly, their heads neatly severed and rolling about the floor.
Kira's eyes shot open with the scream from her past lodged in her throat. Her body was aching with pain from her prone position on the floor and she could barely move. The stone floor was cold against her cheek and her black hair had come undone. Kira struggled into a sitting position, her neck dewed with sweat at the pain in her chest and each breath took a monumental effort. The dream had shaken her, filling her with that paralyzing sense of fear and weakness that haunted her even until now.
Where was that man in the golden armor? Kira slowly looked about, pushing her hair out of her face, at the scene of destruction. Smashed purple crystals and broken benches littered what had been the classroom and looking out at the hallways, there were more prone figures lying on the ground with their robes carelessly flung about. Kira forced herself to crawl forwards to follow the trail of destruction and each movement sent a fresh wave of agony through her body. She couldn't make it more than ten steps before she collapsed on the ground, her head spinning.
Kira gritted her teeth and tried to pull herself forward with her hands but her body was failing. She screamed in frustration and slammed her fists into the ground. How could she have failed again? Once again, she was too weak when it mattered and now there was nothing left to salvage. Curling up on her side, she put her hands over her face to hide the angry tears leaking out.
Bjorn, Raya Lucaria:
Bjorn found himself increasingly drawn to the sorceress with whom he'd crossed paths, a wellspring of empathy bubbling within him. In the depths of her eyes, he discerned a profound anguish, a poignant echo of Asher's own struggles, igniting within him a gnawing remorse for the ferocity that marked their confrontation. The Comet, its appearance a catalyst for resurfacing memories, had unfurled a tempest within him, hurtling him headlong into a cataclysmic maelstrom of rage where his actions had no tether to reason or control, culminating in his fingers clasping her throat in an iron grip.
He believed, in his seasoned wisdom, that the impulsive ire of his youth had become a relic of the past, a vestige vanquished by growth and introspection. Yet in the face of that celestial harbinger, he was confronted with a disquieting notion: had the intervening years, replete with their trials and lessons, proven insufficient in exorcizing the specter of his former self? Could it be that beneath the veneer of progress, the same tempestuous fury still lurked, poised to rend asunder all in its path in the name of righteousness? These thoughts swirled within him as he stood before the Grand Library, ready to confront Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon and retrieve the coveted Great Rune from her possession.
Rennala, a formidable adversary in her own right, unleashed her wide arsenal of glintstone sorceries, doing all she could to maintain the upper hand in battle. Despite her efforts, Bjorn's artful mastery of the Golden Order proved a resilient bulwark, deflecting most of her assaults with deftness and finesse. A symphony of steel and magic ensued, culminating in her eventual defeat before the resplendent might of the golden warrior. As the final echoes of their clash reverberated, he finally retrieved the coveted Great Rune, its significant power coursing through his veins like a surging current. However, the instant his fingers closed around the Rune's essence, the world around him convulsed, bending and distorting into an impenetrable abyss. A chasm of obsidian swallowed his senses, plunging him into a fathomless darkness, an enigma wrapped in uncertainty.
In a fleeting moment, Bjorn found himself enveloped in the familiar spectacle of swirling snow, banishing the prior abyssal darkness. He raised his hand to clear a path through the snow in an attempt to ascertain this baffling new terrain. Bjorn knew this to be an illusion, there was no logical way, physically or magically, for him to be teleported to a land locked in snow and ice.
A horse whickered and the sound tugged at the memories he had long kept wrapped up in tight chains. Bjorn looked at his hand and the golden gauntlets of his Tree Sentinel station had transformed into brown leather riding gloves. He looked up at the turbulent sky and realized that he had become much smaller; the discomforting notion compounded by the lack of weapons and armor that he had become accustomed to.
A warm nose nudged its way under his hand and the immediacy of his current predicament wiped away Bjorn's unease. "Come Kasha, we must find shelter before the storm makes specters of us." He said and his voice was higher with youth. The wolf pelts of his armor kept his shoulders warm but he knew that even the hardiest of his Kaiden people would perish if they trudged through snow that reached above the knees with this scouring wind whittling away their mettle.
He led his horse, pulling upon the reins in the slippery areas to help the poor creature find its footing. They reached an abandoned charcoaler's hut and Bjorn beat the snow from his clothes as best he could and tried to settle the panic that was beginning to coalesce into a hot wave. The stove was empty of fuel and there was no wood to be found under these conditions. The cold crept in and gnawed upon his limbs, dispelling the heat of his fear, and Bjorn's iron grip on life started slipping as his mind wandered to greener pastures and memories of calmer days.
Just as the Kaiden boy was about to acquiesce to the darkness that temptingly beckoned to him, there was a glow. He opened his dark brown eyes to see a trail of gold sparkling through the heavy snowfall. The golden light hovered before him and drove away the cold frosting through his veins. It was the most beautiful thing Bjorn had ever seen in his homeland eternally blanketed with white snow and blue ice. He reached out for it and a life-affirming warmth rushed through him and he heard a woman's voice echo through his mind. "Harken to my call, Tarnished, thine strength is needed to defend the golden Hallowbrand of our lands. It is not thine time to perish yet for thou hast not fulfilled the legends of our sacred Order. Come to me, I await thee at the Erdtree and thou shalt forge an endless Age of Gold with thine sword and shield."
Images sprung forth in Bjorn, of green valleys, blue lakes, grey mountains pumping with lava and a mighty city with battlements that soared against gargantuan branches of gold. Strength flooded through his body and he stood up, heedless of the cold and darkness that had attempted to drag him into the void. The golden light unerringly led him through the blizzard back to the sight of firelit windows gleaming through the curtains of endless snow.
Bjorn's vision distorted once more and the enchanting expanse of the wintry terrain stretched boundlessly into the horizon. Ahead, his gaze alighted upon the diminutive abode where his family lived, nestled within the embrace of the landscape. His attention was seized by a horse-drawn carriage bedecked in the regalia of the Golden Order. Stepping out from the home, two soldiers of Leyndell walked to him, each placing a hand on his shoulder and leading him away from his home towards the awaiting carriage.
In the wake of this poignant moment, his mother's tears trailed behind him, a testament to her heart's unrest, while his father's countenance bore the weight of silent acceptance. "Fret not," his father's voice resonated with an air of certitude. "He is forged of sturdy mettle, unwavering through and through. He shall endure this trial and ultimately find his way back to our embrace once more." He delivered this message with a stalwart conviction as though he were convinced this was destined to be.
Ascending the carriage's platform with assistance from the soldiers, Bjorn seated himself beside another boy of similar age. A smile unfurled on his lips as he regarded his fellow traveler, his grey eyes meeting Bjorn's in a moment of unspoken kinship. "It heartens me to see you!" the boy excitedly said, buoyed by an eagerness that overshadowed any anticipation of an imminent departure. "I didn't think this day would come so soon, but I am beyond excited for the chance to prove my mettle and stand before the Greater Will!" he proudly proclaimed, a fervent declaration of purpose coursing through his words. Seated in contemplative repose, Bjorn grappled with a wealth of conflicting emotions, the coming journey veiled in uncertainty. In all the events unfolding on this day, he had one simple question: how long would he have to be gone until he could return to his family?
Bjorn blinked and the images lifted from his unseeing gaze like gossamer veils before a moon. For it was dark now and the moon, not the one conjured by Rennala, gleamed before him. Liurnia's sky was filled with stars for the marshes were free of their concealing fog with the clear night was on full display. I wonder if my family stares upon these stars right now in their home amidst the snowy mountains. It was a rare moment of introspection for Bjorn to realize he no longer called those mountains home even in his thoughts. But he had been forged anew in the golden crucible of the Erdtree, all impurities and weakness melted away. So he brushed away the irksome thoughts that made the heat rise in his throat.
The Great Rune of the Unborn burned steadily in his hand. It was smaller than Godrick's Great Rune and lacked complexity but the longer Bjorn stared through its small golden circle, the more its shape twisted into a spiral of endless possibility. These Great Runes were dangerous with their seductive promises of power but Bjorn had no need of their aid to get what he wanted. They were merely visual symbols of the power he needed the others to understand.
Hanging his Greatsword on his back, the Tree Sentinel walked through the hallways of Raya Lucaria that he had so effortlessly destroyed. A voice called out to him and Bjorn reflexively hefted up his Erdtree Greatshield before seeing it was that young woman whom he had fought before. She was dragging herself towards him with a trail of blood smeared across the floor where she had initially fallen. Bjorn should've walked on and ignored her but there was that flash in her eyes, so different in physical shape yet so similar to Asher in spirit. So he stopped and watched the young woman use a pillar to pull herself to her feet. Her dark Raya Lucaria robes were torn and there was a glint of silver mail under them that Bjorn noted with a slight hint of surprise. Mages never usually wore armor as they favored lightness and speed of movement to run the moment their spells no longer worked.
"Chottomatte." She said and Bjorn tilted his head. He was familiar with different dialects for he was from Leyndell, a metropolis that attracted pilgrims from far and wide, but he had never heard a language like this. She shook her head as if recalibrating, a line of blood dripping down from a probable scalp wound, and spoke in the main Lands Between language. "Wait a moment. Where are you going with Rennala's Rune?"
"That is a matter that does not concern you." Bjorn said coolly and prepared to move on. He didn't know why he had stopped in the first place.
"Like hell it doesn't." She snarled and her face was alight with rage. "Do you know how long it took me to plan to try and get what you just stole?"
"Well you didn't execute your plan on time. Opportunity does not wait for the weak in the Lands Between." Bjorn responded.
"I wasn't waiting for my opportunity. I have been planning every moment since I got here to seize it and control my own fate. I can tell by looking at you that you've never had to work hard for anything in your life. You were blessed with natural gifts since you were born and I see it in your eyes that you've never had to feel weak." Her voice, though hoarse, was vibrating with anger and there was that look on her face again. Wounded pride and desperation. It was so familiar to Bjorn. Perhaps he had been wrong about being reforged without impurities because Asher had always been the weakness tarnishing his commitment to the gold of Grace. Because in her voice, he could hear the venom of the same words that Asher had thrown at him before disappearing from Leyndell.
So instead of killing her like he had done to her fellow sorcerers, Bjorn continued to speak to her. "Then we are at an impasse. If you are ordering me to hand over the Great Rune I took, then your expectations in my generosity are sadly misplaced. Don't tell me anything clever about killing me either, you know it's not realistically possible."
"I know why you're gathering the Great Runes for you seek to become Elden Lord." The young woman said. "You only need two to gain the approval of the Greater Will. I swear upon my sword and staff that I will help you seek whichever Great Rune you desire if you will grant me Rennala's."
"What can you offer me that I cannot already achieve? I have never needed the aid of another in battle." Bjorn said. He was only willing to humor her on a whim and he certainly didn't need the aid of a subpar sorceress.
"I offer knowledge. Rykard, Radahn, and Ranni. I have knowledge of who they are, their abilities and their ideologies for I observed the three demigods from afar before they flew from Rennala's nest." The young woman said and Bjorn paused in contemplation. "As you said, I cannot harm you and I am the one taking a bigger risk in helping you if you choose not to uphold your end of the bargain. Are you that afraid of me?"
The young woman was sharp, Bjorn had to give her that for her words were carefully calculated to both needle and placate him. Knowledge was always essential in battle and it would be a more pleasant journey with a second pair of eyes to guard from the hordes of enemies scuttling across the Lands Between. He knew she wasn't going to be able to kill him, even if she mounted a sneak attack, and she needed him more than he needed her. However it would be prudent to create a safeguard that would prevent her from constantly trying to stick him in the back with that thin Estoc of hers as thwarting such attempts would grow tiresome.
"I accept on the condition that I shall place Rennala's Great Rune elsewhere. If you manage to miraculously kill me, you will never be able to lay your hands on that Rune. Are we understood?"
The woman nodded and then pulled a small dagger from her robes. She cut the tip of her finger and then proffered it to Bjorn. "It is decided then, I will accompany and aid you to find another Great Rune, as long as you grant me the Rune of the Unborn." Bjorn stared down at her bleeding finger until the young woman pulled it back with a scowl. "A bargain is marked with each other's blood, is it not?" She asked.
"No, we do not need to mutilate ourselves to agree to something." Bjorn responded and extended his hand to shake hers. There were calluses on her palm that did not match her mage-like appearance nor the hilt of her Estoc. "Now, tell me your name." When she hesitated, he tightened his grip on her hand in warning. "This is not a thoughtless exchange at the fish market, I will need a little trust from you before I give you mine."
"My name is Kira, Kira Akaza-." She stopped for a moment. "Kira, my name is Kira."
Bjorn didn't comment on the stutter in her speech. "My name is Bjorn, son of Eirik." There was a long pause and he took his Erdtree Seal out. "I will meet you by the East Gate by dawn. If you attempt to follow me before then by physical or magical means, our bargain will be broken." He cast Blessing of the Erdtree, a healing golden light glittering around them in the shape of a tree and Kira stared at him in confusion. "This will heal your injuries over time so be ready to journey when I am back." Without a backwards glance, he pushed aside the magical seal guarding the majestic school and disappeared into the dark tangle of woods made blacker by night.
