Elden Ring II

by Robin171301

Many ages have passed in the Lands Between, now covered by a greater dark fog. The last Elden Lord vanished, after The Fall. The grace is fading and with it all hope of restoring peace, yet in this darkness lies one small glimmer hope, the Last Tarnished.

7. Chapter 76 to 79

The Calm Before The Storm The air within Stormcaller Church crackled with an otherworldly energy as Morana stood before Magnus and Maeve, her mismatched eyes gleaming with ancient knowledge. Her voice, low and commanding, echoed through the chamber.
"Focus, Maeve. Channel the essence of death through your very being."
Maeve's hands danced with shadowy tendrils, her crimson hair whipping about as if caught in an unseen tempest. A smirk played across her lips as she effortlessly manipulated the dark energy, wisps of red and black intertwining around her fingers.
"Impressive," Morana nodded, a hint of approval in her usually stoic demeanor.
Maeve rolled her eyes, the shadows dissipating as she lowered her hands. "Save your praise. I've been wielding death since before you crawled out of whatever hole you've been hiding in."
Morana's eyes narrowed, but she chose not to respond to the barb. Instead, she turned her attention to Magnus, who stood rigid, his golden eyes unfocused.
"Your turn, Angel," she said, her tone softening ever so slightly.
Magnus closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in concentration. As he reached for the power of his rune, flashes of memory assaulted him – battles long past, faces of the fallen, glimpses of potential futures both glorious and terrible. His wings twitched involuntarily, and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
Maeve watched her brother struggle, concern etched on her features. "Magnus, you're thinking too much. Let it flow through you."
Magnus opened his eyes, meeting Maeve's gaze. He nodded, taking a deep breath. Once again, he reached for the power, but the visions intensified. A gasp escaped his lips as he stumbled backward, steadying himself against a nearby pillar.
Morana approached him, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "The Rune of Life is not merely a tool, Magnus. It is a force of nature, a fundamental aspect of existence. Your experiences, your memories – they are not obstacles. They are the very essence of what makes you worthy to wield this power."
Magnus straightened, considering her words. He closed his eyes once more, this time embracing the flood of images and emotions. Slowly, a faint aura of blue and white light began to emanate from his form, pulsing with the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Maeve's eyes widened. "That's it, brother. You've got it."
As Magnus opened his eyes, the aura pulsed, sending a shockwave of vibrant energy through the church. Morana nodded, a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes.
"Well done," she said. "But this is merely the beginning. True mastery will take time and dedication."
Magnus let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Thank you, Morana. Your guidance is... appreciated."
Maeve clapped her hands together, breaking the tension. "Well, now that we've had our little life and death magic lesson, shall we get back to the others? I'm sure Godwyn's pulling his hair out trying to organize this march without us."
As they prepared to leave the church, Magnus paused, his expression thoughtful. "Morana, I have to ask – why now? Why choose this moment to reveal yourself and offer your help?"
The Gloam-Eyed Queen's face remained impassive, but something flickered in her eyes – was it uncertainty? "The balance of power is shifting, Magnus. Ancient forces are stirring. The Lands Between stand on the precipice of change, and I... I believe you and your siblings may be the key to ensuring that change leads to renewal rather than ruin."As they stepped out of Stormcaller Church, the bustling sounds of the camp enveloped them. Morana nodded curtly before departing, her form seeming to meld with the shadows.
Magnus watched her go, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You know, Maeve, I don't think Morana is as malevolent as we initially believed."
Maeve let out a derisive snort. "Oh, come now, brother. Have you forgotten? She's the one who created the Godskins. You know, those charming fellows who've been trying to flay us alive?"
Magnus shook his head, his golden hair catching the sunlight. "She expressed regret for that decision. People can change, learn from their mistakes."
"Always the optimist," Maeve mocked, rolling her eyes. "One of these days, your tendency to see the best in everyone is going to get you into more trouble."
As they walked through the camp, soldiers of the Host dropped to one knee, heads bowed in reverence to Magnus. Maeve noticed the sideways glances, the flickers of fear in some eyes as they recognized her. These were men and women who had once served under her rule at the Twilight Fortress, when her word was law and her wrath was legendary.
A complex mix of emotions washed over Maeve. There was a tinge of sadness at the fear she still instilled, but also a spark of pride. Her reputation endured, even if her position had changed.
They approached Seroch, the captain of the Host, who stood at attention as they neared.
"My lord," Seroch said, bowing his head to Magnus. His eyes flickered briefly to Maeve, a hint of wariness in his gaze.
Magnus nodded in acknowledgment. "Seroch, give me a report on our preparations."
Seroch straightened, his voice crisp and professional. "Yes, my lord. The Host is nearly ready to march. Provisions have been distributed, weapons sharpened, and armor repaired. We await only your command."
"Excellent," Magnus replied. "And what of the other forces? Malenia's Cleanrot Knights? Radahn's Redmanes? Messmer's soldiers?"
"They report similar readiness, my lord," Seroch answered. "General Radahn has been personally overseeing the final preparations of his cavalry."
Maeve leaned in, her voice low and teasing. "I bet ol' Radahn's itching for a fight. Always did have more brawn than brains."
Magnus shot her a warning glance before turning back to Seroch. "Thank you. Ensure the men get proper rest tonight. We march at dawn."
As Seroch saluted and departed, Maeve nudged her brother. "So, oh great and noble lord, shall we go see how our dear sister Malenia is faring? I'm sure she's just dying to see me again."
Magnus sighed, a mix of exasperation and fondness in his voice. "Try not to antagonize her, Maeve. We need unity now more than ever."
"Me? Antagonize?" Maeve placed a hand over her heart in mock offense. "I wouldn't dream of it, brother dear."
As Magnus and Maeve approached Malenia's encampment, they noticed Messmer emerging from his tent. The imposing figure handed a sealed letter to an albinauric messenger, his usual stern demeanor softened slightly.
"See that this reaches Lady Rellana in Liurnia without delay," Messmer instructed, his voice low but clear.
The albinauric bowed deeply. "On my life, Lord Messmer. It shall be delivered safely."
As the messenger scurried away, Magnus and Maeve exchanged amused glances before addressing their brother.
"Well, well," Maeve drawled, a mischievous glint in her eye. "What's this? The fearsome Messmer sending love letters?"
Magnus chuckled. "I didn't realize you had such a romantic side, brother. Should we expect poetry next?"
Messmer fell into step behind them, the serpents around his body seeming to hiss with amusement. A rare smirk played across his lips as he retorted, "At least I don't need wings to sweep a lady off her feet."
The jab was playful, lacking any real bite. Maeve let out a surprised laugh, while Magnus shook his head, grinning.
"Touché, brother," Magnus conceded. "I trust all is well with Lady Rellana?"
Messmer nodded, his expression growing more serious. "As well as can be expected. I've informed her of our plans to march to the Haligtree. She... worries."
Maeve's eyebrow arched. "The great Messmer, inspiring worry in others instead of fear? How times have changed."
"We all change, sister," Messmer replied, his gold eyes meeting hers pointedly. "Some of us more than others."
As they entered the Cleanrot encampment, the trio was surprised to find Godwyn overseeing preparations instead of Malenia. His golden hair gleamed in the fading sunlight as he turned to greet them.
"Ah, siblings," Godwyn said, his voice carrying a mix of warmth and concern. "I was wondering when you'd arrive."
Magnus glanced around, brow furrowed. "Where's Malenia? Is everything alright?"
Godwyn's expression softened. "Millicent isn't feeling well. Malenia asked if I could handle things here while she tends to her."
At the mention of Millicent, Maeve's posture stiffened, guilt flashing across her features. Magnus's worry was palpable as he spoke, "I should go check on them. Excuse me."
As Magnus hurried away, Godwyn noticed Maeve's discomfort. He approached her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Maeve, what happened wasn't your fault. Millicent is strong, like her mother. She'll pull through this."
Maeve nodded, not entirely convinced but appreciating the gesture. "Thank you," she murmured.
Messmer observed the exchange silently, his serpents coiling restlessly around him.
Godwyn straightened, his demeanor shifting to that of a leader. "Now, since you're here, I could use your help. There are still some preparations to finalize before our march tomorrow."
"Of course," Messmer replied, stepping forward. "What needs to be done?"
As Godwyn continued, Maeve found herself listening intently, grateful for the distraction from her guilt. —
Radahn and Gaius trudged through the bustling camp, their massive forms casting long shadows in the flickering torchlight. Despite the late hour, Radahn showed no signs of fatigue, his mastery over gravity magic allowing him to effortlessly manipulate massive logs and carts into place.
As they passed by a group of albinaurics, Philia, the towering leader of Stormcaller Village, approached them. Her silver hair gleamed in the moonlight as she bowed her head respectfully.
"Lord Radahn, Sir Gaius," she greeted, her melodious voice filled with gratitude. "Your efforts have not gone unnoticed. The village thanks you for your tireless work."
Radahn nodded, a hint of a smile visible beneath his wild red mane. "It is the least we can do, Lady Philia. We must all contribute to ensure our journey's success."
Philia's expression turned sheepish. "If it's not too much trouble, might I ask for your assistance with one more matter? Young Jar-Bairn seems to have gotten himself into a predicament near the outskirts of the camp."
Gaius chuckled, his armor clanking. "That lad's always finding new ways to get into trouble."
"We'll see to it," Radahn assured her, already turning towards the camp's edge.
As they approached the area Philia had indicated, they heard a muffled voice calling out. Following the sound, they came upon a peculiar sight: a hole in the ground, with two ceramic legs kicking frantically in the air.
Radahn and Gaius exchanged bemused glances before the Starscourge knelt by the hole.
"Jar-Bairn?" Radahn called, his deep voice tinged with amusement. "How in the name of the Erdtree did you manage this?"
A muffled reply came from within the earth. "Lord Radahn! Oh, thank the stars! I was, uh, inspecting this hole for, um, strategic purposes! Yes, that's it! And I may have... slipped."
Gaius couldn't contain his laughter. "Strategic purposes, eh? And what strategy involves being upside down in a hole?"
"A very complex one!" Jar-Bairn insisted, his legs waving indignantly.
Radahn shook his head, a chuckle escaping him. "Hold still, young one. Let's get you out of there."
With a gentle application of his gravity magic, Radahn lifted Jar-Bairn from the hole, carefully setting the living jar right-side up on solid ground.
Jar-Bairn's ceramic face somehow managed to look both embarrassed and relieved. "My deepest thanks, Lord Radahn. I don't suppose we could keep this little incident between us?"
Gaius grinned. "Oh no, lad. This tale's too good not to share."
As Magnus caught sight of the approaching group, he immediately noticed the amused expressions on Radahn and Gaius's faces. His eyebrow raised in curiosity, a smile already tugging at his lips.
"Well, well," Magnus said, draping an arm around Jar-Bairn's ceramic shoulders. "What mischief have you gotten into this time, my friend?"
Radahn, his imposing figure softened by mirth, recounted the tale. "We found our young warrior here conducting a most thorough inspection of a hole. Upside down, no less."
Magnus couldn't help but chuckle, his golden eyes twinkling with amusement. "Ah, I see. And was this 'inspection' a success, Jar-Bairn?"
Jar-Bairn's ceramic body seemed to bristle with indignation. "It was a perfectly valid tactical exercise! I'll have you know, I learned... uh... valuable lessons about subterranean warfare!"
"Oh, of course," Magnus teased gently. "I'm sure your unique perspective will revolutionize our battle strategies."
"Just you wait!" Jar-Bairn declared, his voice filled with determination. "One day, I'll be the greatest warrior you've ever seen! I'll make Uncle Alexander proud!"
Magnus's expression softened, and he knelt down to meet Jar-Bairn at eye level.
"You know what, Jar-Bairn?" Magnus said, his voice sincere. "I truly would love to see that day. And I believe you will make it happen."
Jar-Bairn's ceramic body seemed to straighten with pride. "You really think so, Magnus?"
Magnus nodded, a warm smile on his face. "I do. Your uncle's spirit lives on in you. Keep that determination, and there's no telling what you might achieve."
Radahn placed a massive hand gently on Jar-Bairn's lid. "Indeed. Though perhaps we could work on keeping you right-side up during your next tactical exercise, eh?"
Malenia moved with her usual grace, wielding a simple wooden stick with deadly precision. In contrast, Millicent's movements were labored, her usual fluidity replaced by a sluggish, erratic rhythm. The strain of her recent ordeal was evident in every swing of her sword.
"Keep your guard up, Millicent," Malenia instructed, her voice firm but patient. "Anticipate my movements."
With a swift motion, Malenia once again disarmed her daughter, sending Millicent's sword clattering to the ground. Millicent's frustration was palpable as she retrieved her weapon.
"Perhaps we should end here for today," Malenia suggested gently. "There's no shame in taking time to recover."
Millicent shook her head vehemently. "No, I can't. I have to get stronger. The Flame... I can still feel it. I need to be able to fight it."
Magnus felt a pang in his heart at Millicent's words, understanding all too well the weight of such a burden.
As they resumed, Millicent's movements became increasingly erratic. Suddenly, her demeanor shifted dramatically. Her face contorted with rage, and a string of curses erupted from her lips, shocking both Magnus and Malenia.
"Damn it all!" Millicent snarled, her voice uncharacteristically harsh. "Why can't I do this?!"
She lunged at Malenia with renewed vigor, her attacks wild and vicious. Malenia, taken aback by the sudden change, effortlessly evaded each strike, which only served to fuel Millicent's anger.
"Stand still!" Millicent shouted, her eyes blazing with an unnatural fire. "Fight me properly!"
Recognizing the dangerous turn of events, Magnus sprang into action. In a flash, he was between them, his own blade materializing to block Millicent's furious assault.
The clash of steel seemed to snap Millicent out of her frenzy. She blinked, confusion and horror dawning on her face as she realized what had transpired. She stumbled backward, dropping her sword.
"I... I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know what came over me."
Magnus lowered his blade, his expression a mix of concern and compassion. "It's alright, Millicent. You're still healing."
Malenia approached, her face etched with worry. "The Flame's influence is stronger than we realized. We'll find a way to help you through this."
Millicent nodded weakly, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm scared," she admitted softly. "What if I can't control it?"
Magnus placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You're not alone in this fight, Millicent. We're here with you, every step of the way."
As the three stood together in the training yard, the weight of their challenges hung heavily in the air.
As Magnus, Malenia, and Millicent stood together in the training yard, processing the aftermath of Millicent's outburst, they were suddenly interrupted by the excited arrival of the other girls. Amy, Maureen, and Polyanna burst into the yard, their faces alight with excitement.
"Father! Mother!" Amy called out, her voice brimming with urgency. "You need to come quickly!"
Maureen nodded vigorously. "Something wonderful has happened to Mary!"
Polyanna tugged at Magnus's sleeve. "Please, you have to see this!"
The three of them exchanged curious glances before following the excited girls. As they hurried through the camp, Millicent's earlier distress was momentarily forgotten in the wake of this new development.
They arrived at Miquella's shack, the girls practically bouncing with anticipation as they ushered their parents and sister inside. The interior was dimly lit, with various alchemical instruments and scrolls scattered about. Miquella stood next to a wooden table, his eternally youthful face creased with concentration as he examined Mary.
As they entered Miquella's shack, the air was thick with anticipation. Mary sat on a table, her back to the door, while Miquella hovered nearby, his childlike form belying the intensity of his scrutiny. Eleanora and Gwen stood to the side, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief.
"Mary?" Malenia called out softly, her voice tinged with concern.
Magnus stepped forward, his golden eyes fixed on his adopted daughter. "What's happening? Are you alright?"
Slowly, Mary turned to face them. As she did, Magnus felt his breath catch in his throat. Where once there had been only scarred flesh covered by bandages, two perfect eyes now gazed back at them, brimming with tears.
"Mother... Father..." Mary's voice quivered with emotion. "I can see you. I can actually see you!"
Unable to contain herself any longer, Mary leapt from the table and rushed into their arms, sobbing with joy. Magnus and Malenia held her tightly, their own eyes misting over.
Miquella approached, his brilliant mind already working through the implications. "It's remarkable," he mused. "I believe this may be a result of her transformation into an angel, combined with the residual effects of Magnus's Rune of Life."
Millicent watched the scene unfold, a complex mix of emotions playing across her face. "Is it... is it permanent?" she asked hesitantly.
Miquella tilted his head, considering. "It's too early to say for certain, but the regeneration appears stable. We'll need to watch her closely, of course."
Mary pulled back slightly from her parents' embrace, her newly restored eyes drinking in every detail of their faces. "Everything's so bright, so clear," she marveled. "I'd almost forgotten what colors looked like."
As the group crowded around Mary, exclaiming over her restored sight and peppering Miquella with questions, Magnus felt a tugging at his sleeve. He looked down to see Millicent, her expression troubled.
"Father," she whispered, "do you think... could the same happen for the rest of us?"
Magnus placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his voice low and thoughtful. "I don't know, Millicent. But if there's a way, we'll find it. Together."
Miquella leaned against his workbench, his childlike features creased in thought. "Magnus, your presence has indeed been a balm for Malenia and the girls. The Rune of Life's influence is... intriguing. But Mary's case is unique. Her soul was particularly receptive during the transformation."
Millicent absently touched her prosthetic arm, a wry smile on her face. "I suppose my arm won't be growing back anytime soon, then?"
Miquella shook his head apologetically. "I'm afraid not, my dear. The prosthetic has become a part of you."
"Well," Millicent chuckled, flexing her golden fingers, "I've grown rather fond of it. Makes me feel like Mother, in a way."
The other girls erupted into excited chatter, their eyes shining with hope.
"Do you think our eyes might come back too?" one asked eagerly.
"Oh, imagine being able to see again!" another exclaimed.
Magnus raised his hands, his voice gentle but firm. "Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves. These are just theories, remember? We can't make any promises."
Undeterred by his caution, Mary and her sisters shared conspiratorial grins before darting out of the shack. "We're going to tell Uncle Radahn and Aunt Maeve!" they called over their shoulders.
As their excited voices faded, Magnus turned to Miquella, his expression serious. "What about Malenia? Could the Rune of Life heal her completely?"
Miquella sighed, running a hand through his golden hair. "Magnus, we've discussed this before. Malenia's situation is... complex. Being a demigod, she's less susceptible to the Rune's influence. So far, it's only managed to ease the rot's progression and quiet its whispers."
Malenia placed a hand on Magnus's arm, her touch gentle. "It's already done more than I ever hoped for, my love."
Miquella continued, his voice tinged with frustration. "For true healing to occur, the God of Rot would need to release its hold on Malenia entirely. And that, I'm afraid, is highly unlikely."
Magnus's jaw tightened, determination flashing in his eyes. "There has to be a way. We've come so far already."
Malenia stepped between them, her voice soft but firm. "Both of you, please. Let's not dwell on what might be. We should focus on the blessings we have now, and the challenges that lie ahead."
The three stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared history and uncertain future hanging in the air. Outside, they could hear the distant sounds of the camp preparing for the journey to come.
As they stepped outside, they were greeted by a cacophony of voices and laughter. Maeve's colorful exclamation cut through the air as she stood before Mary, gently holding the girl's eyelids open in disbelief.
"Well, I'll be damned," Maeve chuckled, her usual snark softened by genuine wonder. "Looks like you've got a matching set now, kiddo."
Radahn's heavy footsteps approached, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the group. "What's all this about?" he asked, his voice rumbling with curiosity. As his eyes fell on Mary, they widened in shock. "By the Erdtree! How is this possible?"
Miquella stepped forward, his small form a stark contrast to Radahn's bulk. "It appears to be a side effect of Mary's angelic transformation, combined with the influence of Magnus's Rune of Life," he explained succinctly.
Before anyone could respond, Godwyn and Messmer approached, drawn by the commotion. Mary darted towards them, her newly restored eyes shining with excitement.
"Uncle Godwyn! Uncle Messmer! Look!" she exclaimed, pointing at her face. "I can see!"
Godwyn's usually stoic expression melted into one of astonishment, while Messmer's gold eyes widened perceptibly. One of Messmer's serpents, curious, began to drift towards Mary's face.
Mary's expression quickly shifted from joy to playful warning. "Don't even think about it," she admonished the serpent, wagging a finger. "These eyes are brand new, and I'd like to keep them that way."
The serpent retreated, seeming almost abashed, as Messmer let out a rare chuckle.
Amidst the excitement, the Gloam-Eyed Queen emerged from the shadows, her mismatched eyes fixed on Mary. Her voice, low and authoritative, cut through the chatter.
"Miquella's theory holds merit," she stated, her gaze shifting to Magnus. "The Rune of Life indeed possesses great power to heal and restore. This... is but a glimpse of its potential."
The group fell silent, the implications of her words hanging heavily in the air. Magnus felt the weight of their gazes upon him, a mix of hope and uncertainty reflected in their eyes.
The demigods gathered in the large wooden shack, their imposing figures dwarfing the makeshift war room. A detailed map of the Lands Between lay spread across a table, its edges curling slightly from use.
Maeve leaned forward, her crimson hair falling over her shoulder as she pointed to a spot far off the coast. "There," she said, her voice tinged with a mix of awe and concern. "That's where I saw Leyndell. It's... it's so far now."
Godwyn's golden locks caught the light as he nodded grimly. His finger traced a path across the map, coming to rest on a specific location. "The Grand Lift of Rold," he stated firmly. "That's our best route. We'll travel through the Consecrated Snowfield and reach Ordina. The waygate there will lead us to the Haligtree."
Miquella, his small form perched on a stool to reach the table, nodded in agreement. "We're fortunate that Loretta managed to retain one of the medallions for the lift. Without it, our journey would be far more perilous."
A heavy silence fell over the group as they contemplated their next challenge. Radahn's deep voice broke the quiet. "The Flame of Frenzy remains our most pressing concern. Especially after what happened with Millicent."
Magnus frowned, his golden eyes scanning the map. "We're at a disadvantage. With Leyndell separated from the mainland, our options for dealing with the Flame are limited."
The Gloam-Eyed Queen, standing in the shadows at the edge of the group, spoke up. "The Flame of Frenzy is chaos incarnate. It cannot be reasoned with or appeased. It must be contained or extinguished."
Maeve snorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, that's just great. Anyone fancy a swim across the ocean to Leyndell?"
The group fell silent again, each lost in thought. The magnitude of their task weighed heavily upon them. The fate of the Lands Between hung in the balance, yet the path forward remained unclear.
Godwyn's voice cut through the tension. "We can't lose sight of our immediate goal. Reaching the Haligtree is our priority. Perhaps once there, we'll find new information or resources to help us tackle the Flame of Frenzy."
Miquella nodded in agreement. "Godwyn's right. We must focus on what we can accomplish now. The journey to the Haligtree will be challenging enough."
Magnus turned to the Gloam-Eyed Queen, his voice laced with hope. "Could Maeve's Destined Death be powerful enough to extinguish the Flame of Frenzy God?"
The Queen's mismatched eyes flickered between Magnus and Maeve. "It's possible," she said cautiously, "but the cost could be catastrophic. I've heard whispers of a prophecy... that Maeve is destined to become the Lord of Chaos."
Maeve's eyes flashed dangerously, her fists clenching at her sides. "That prophecy can go to hell," she spat.
Magnus placed a calming hand on his sister's shoulder. "We won't let that happen," he assured the Queen, his voice firm. "We've defied fate before."
Godwyn, ever the pragmatist, pressed on. "Are there any other options we haven't considered?"
The room fell silent, each demigod lost in thought. Finally, Maeve broke the silence with a sardonic laugh.
"Well, Rykard once offered to eat the Flame of Frenzy," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But our dear brothers here put an end to that option, didn't they?"
Radahn shifted uncomfortably, his massive form creaking the floorboards. "What about your ascension, Magnus? You became the God of Order, albeit briefly."
Magnus shook his head, his expression grim. "That power came at too high a price. The Greater Will's manipulation... I can't risk that again."
Godwyn let out a heavy sigh, his golden locks seeming to dim in the shadowy room. "So we're left with no clear solution," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of their predicament. "Just ourselves, our weapons, and whatever strength we can muster."
"Well… shit." Magnus muttered.
As night fell over the camp, Magnus and Malenia retreated to the shack provided by Philia. The simple wooden structure offered a moment of privacy amidst the bustling preparations for tomorrow's march.
They sat side by side on a makeshift bed, their shoulders touching lightly. The weight of the day's events hung heavily in the air between them.
"I can't help but worry about Millicent," Malenia said softly, her voice tinged with concern. "The Flame's influence... it's stronger than we realized."
Magnus nodded, his golden eyes thoughtful. "We'll find a way to help her. And Mary's recovery... it's given me hope that we can overcome even the most dire circumstances."
Malenia's brow furrowed suddenly. "Mary's eyes... I can't believe I forgot to even ask what color they are. Do you think they're golden, like mine?"
A chuckle escaped Magnus's lips, the sound warm and genuine. "They're golden indeed, just like yours and mine are the same color."
A smile bloomed on Malenia's face, softening her usually stern features. She leaned in, wrapping her arms around Magnus in a tender embrace. As she did so, some of her bandages shifted, coming loose.
Suddenly, Malenia felt the cool air on her exposed, rot-ravaged skin. She jerked back instinctively, her eyes wide with alarm.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, her voice tight with shame as she hurried to readjust her bandages. "I didn't mean to—"
Magnus reached out, gently catching her hands in his. "Malenia," he said softly, his eyes meeting hers with unwavering affection. "You have nothing to apologize for."
He pulled her close again, ignoring the patches of rotted skin visible through her loosened bandages. "Your scars, your rot... they're part of you. And I love every part of you."
Malenia's voice quivered slightly as she spoke, her vulnerability rarely on display. "Sometimes I wish... I could be free of this rot. To feel comfortable in my own skin again." She paused, her gaze lowering. "So you'd have something more to admire than just my personality."
Magnus cupped her face gently, tilting it up to meet his eyes. "Malenia, you are beautiful to me. Rot or no rot, that will never change."
A soft, self-deprecating laugh escaped her lips. She stood, slowly removing her robes to reveal the full extent of her scarred, rot-ravaged body. "How can you say that when you see this?"
Magnus's gaze never wavered, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. A hint of playfulness entered his voice. "My love, we've already been intimate. This is nothing new to me, and it certainly doesn't disturb me."
He rose, wrapping his arms around her bare form, his touch gentle yet firm. "Your scars, your rot - they're testament to your strength, your endurance. They're part of the woman I love."
Malenia relaxed into his embrace, her tension slowly melting away. In the quiet of their shared space, surrounded by the soft sounds of the sleeping camp, they found a moment of intimate connection.
Magnus's voice was low and tender as he continued, "Your beauty goes far beyond the physical, Malenia. It's in your fierce determination, your unwavering loyalty, your capacity for love despite all you've endured."
Malenia's arms tightened around him, her voice muffled against his chest. "Thank you, Magnus. For seeing me... all of me."
Magnus's voice took on a playful tone as he raised an eyebrow. "So, my dear, I don't suppose you happen to be in the mood?"
Malenia let out a snicker, her usual stern demeanor melting away. "For you? I'm always in the mood." With surprising strength, she pushed him onto the bed, eliciting a surprised yelp from Magnus.
As she climbed onto the bed, her expression softened. "You know, the thing I want most if I'm ever cured of this rot... is to finally see what you look like."
Magnus chuckled. "Well, I've been told I'm quite the sight to behold. Though I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not."
Later, as they lay together, the small bed barely containing them, Magnus's wings draped awkwardly over the sides. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position that didn't involve a wing being crushed.
"You know," Magnus grumbled good-naturedly, "when I imagined us sharing a bed, I didn't think it would involve this much... maneuvering."
Malenia laughed softly. "At least you're not at risk of impaling yourself on my prosthetic arm this time."
They fell into comfortable conversation, reminiscing about their shared past. Magnus grinned. "Remember when we first met? You nearly skewered me."
Malenia nudged him playfully. "In my defense, you did look rather skewer-able at the time."
Their laughter mingled in the quiet night, a moment of levity before the challenges that awaited them at dawn.
Magnus hastily dressed, his excitement palpable. "I've got an idea, Malenia. I need to speak with Miquella immediately."
"What idea?" Malenia asked, but Magnus was already heading for the door.
"I'm not sure if it'll work, but I have to find out," he called back, leaving a bewildered Malenia behind.
Magnus strode purposefully to Miquella's shack, determination in every step. He knocked on the door forcefully.
"Miquella! Open up, you eternal child!" No response.
He knocked again. "Come on, you pint-sized prodigy! I know you're in there!"
Still nothing. Magnus's patience wore thin.
"Miquella, I swear by the Erdtree, if you don't open this door right now, I'll... I'll tell everyone about that time with the jar and the crab!"
Finally, the door creaked open. Miquella stood there, looking flustered, hastily tying a robe around himself.
Magnus's brow furrowed in confusion. "What were you... nevermind. I have an important idea to discuss."
Miquella cleared his throat. "I wasn't doing anything. What's this about?"
Suddenly, a woman's voice called from inside the shack. "Is everything alright, Lord Miquella? Oh, greetings, Lord Magnus!"
Magnus peered past his brother to see the persistent albinauric woman who had been pursuing Miquella during the festivities nights ago, also clad in a hastily-donned robe. His eyes widened in realization before a mischievous grin spread across his face.
He looked down at Miquella, barely containing his amusement. "You naughty little boy."
Miquella's face flushed red, a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. He glared at Magnus before turning to address the albinauric. "I apologize, but I'm afraid you'll have to leave. It seems my brother has urgent matters to discuss."
As the woman gathered her things and slipped out, Magnus struggled to keep a straight face. Once she was gone, he raised an eyebrow at Miquella. "So, shall we discuss my idea, or would you prefer to tell me about your... nocturnal activities?"
Miquella's glare intensified. "Speak your piece, brother, before I decide to turn you into a toad."
The moonlight cast long shadows as Maeve stood at the edge of the camp, her gaze fixed on the distant lights of Stormcaller Village. A small bag hung from her shoulder, containing what little she deemed necessary for her journey. As she turned to leave, the sound of beating wings broke the night's silence.
Maeve didn't need to turn to know who had landed behind her. "Gwen," she muttered, her voice a mix of resignation and irritation.
"My lady," Gwen's voice was tentative, laced with concern. "Where are you going?"
Maeve kept her back to her former Elite. "I'm leaving, Gwen. It's better for everyone if I do. I can't become the Lord of Frenzied Flame if I'm not here, can I?"
"Please, don't do this," Gwen pleaded. "Lord Magnus wouldn't want you to go."
A bitter laugh escaped Maeve's lips. She turned slowly, a sinister smirk playing across her features. "Oh, Gwen. Sweet, loyal Gwen. Did you know I was inside Magnus's head when he was the vessel for the Elden Ring? When the Greater Will had its claws in him?"
Gwen's eyes widened, a blush creeping across her cheeks. Maeve pressed on, her voice dripping with cruel amusement.
"I saw and heard everything. Including when he offered to make you his consort. You were the only one who stood by him in his corrupted state, after all."
"I... that's not... I didn't..." Gwen stammered, her face now a deep crimson.
Maeve's laughter echoed in the night air. "Don't be shy now, Gwen. I can see it in your eyes. You want more from my brother than just to serve him, don't you?"
Gwen's wings rustled nervously as she struggled to find words. Maeve's smirk softened slightly, a hint of genuine emotion breaking through her cruel facade.
"It's alright, you know. At least you're loyal to a fault."
Maeve turned away again, her voice growing distant. "Take care of him for me, will you? He'll need someone to keep him from doing anything too noble and stupid."
As Maeve took a step forward, Gwen found her voice again. "My lady, please. Don't go. We need you. Magnus needs you."
Maeve paused, her shoulders tensing. For a moment, it seemed she might turn back. But then she shook her head and continued walking, disappearing into the shadows of the night, leaving a conflicted Gwen behind.
Lights and laughter filled Stormcaller village, as children ran around free to do as they please, now that the demigods were here to protect them. Sadly however, that also made them a target.
The peaceful night erupted into chaos as the Godskin Dragon's roar shattered the air. Black flames engulfed Stormcaller Church, casting an eerie glow across the camp. Atop the dragon, the imposing figure of the Godskin Monarch loomed.
The Broken Blade Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes Radahn and Messmer, caught off guard but quick to react, bellowed orders to the startled soldiers. "To arms! Defend the camp!" Radahn's voice thundered over the panic. Messmer's serpents hissed menacingly as they faced the oncoming wave of Godskin minions.
The brothers charged forward, meeting the enemy head-on. Radahn's massive sword cleaved through the air, while Messmer's spear danced with deadly precision. The clash of steel and cries of battle filled the night.
Atop the hill, Godwyn and Lansseax stood frozen for a moment, their vigil at Morgott and Mohg's graves interrupted by the sudden assault. They watched in horror as the Godskin Dragon wheeled in the air, its attention turning to Miquella's shack.
Inside the shack, Magnus and Miquella's conversation came to an abrupt halt. Magnus's eyes widened as he glimpsed the Nobles and Apostles emerging from the church's inferno. "Miquella, stay here!" he commanded, summoning his sword.
But as he opened the door, he saw the dragon's black flames rushing towards them. In a blur of movement, Magnus scooped Miquella into his arms. His wings unfurled, enveloping them both as he crashed through the wooden walls of the shack.
They rolled across the ground, Magnus's wings shielding them from debris as Miquella's shack exploded into splinters behind them. As they came to a stop, Magnus's wings opened slightly, revealing the chaos around them.
"Are you alright?" Magnus asked urgently, checking Miquella for injuries.
Miquella nodded, his eyes wide with shock. "Yes, I'm fine. But the others—"
"We need to find them," Magnus agreed, helping Miquella to his feet. "Stay close to me."
As they surveyed the battlefield, the true scale of the Godskin assault became clear. The once peaceful camp had transformed into a war zone, with allies and enemies locked in desperate combat on all sides.
The night sky erupted into a maelstrom of fire and lightning as Lansseax, now in her full draconic glory, engaged the Godskin Dragon in aerial combat. Their massive forms clashed above the camp, scales and claws glinting in the firelight. Godwyn, standing firm on the hilltop, hurled bolt after bolt of lightning at the enemy dragon.
Meanwhile, Radahn and Messmer found themselves in an increasingly precarious position. As they battled the frontal assault of Godskin minions, the brothers suddenly realized they were being encircled. Nobles and Apostles emerged from the shadows behind them, their grotesque forms illuminated by the flames of battle.
"Brother, we're surrounded!" Messmer called out, his serpents lashing out at encroaching enemies.
Radahn's massive form pivoted, his greatsword carving a deadly arc through the air. "Then we'll make our stand here!"
Across the camp, Malenia burst from her shack, her prosthetic limbs gleaming in the firelight. Her eyes widened at the sense of Miquella's destroyed dwelling, but she pushed down her fear, trusting in Magnus's ability to protect her twin. As she steeled herself for battle, two Apostles lunged at her from the shadows.
Without hesitation, Malenia's blade flashed out, meeting their attacks with preternatural speed. She snarled, her movements a deadly dance as she engaged both foes simultaneously.
Far from the camp, Maeve and Gwen were jolted from their tense conversation by the distant sounds of battle. Gwen's spectral wings materialized instantly, as she prepared to take flight.
Maeve, however, stood frozen for a moment, her eyes wide with horror. "It's happening all over again," she muttered, her voice barely audible. Then, as if shaking off a trance, her expression hardened. The Deathblade materialized in her hand, its dark energy pulsing ominously.
"So much for leaving," she growled, her wings unfurling as she launched herself into the sky alongside Gwen. As they raced back towards the camp, the night air filled with the sounds of clashing steel, roaring dragons, and the desperate cries of battle.
The peaceful night had been shattered, and the demigods found themselves once again fighting not just for victory, but for survival.
Magnus navigated through the chaos of the village, his wings partially extended to shield Miquella from flying debris. The sounds of battle echoed all around them as they weaved between buildings and panicked villagers.
Albinaurics rushed past, grabbing whatever weapons they could find to defend their home. Amidst the mayhem, Magnus caught sight of Jar-Bairn facing off against a Godskin Noble. For a moment, concern flashed across Magnus's face, but it quickly turned to surprise and pride as Jar-Bairn emerged victorious.
"Ha! Take that, you overgrown blanket!" Jar-Bairn crowed, standing triumphantly over the crushed noble.
Despite the grave situation, Magnus couldn't help but smile. "Well done, my friend," he called out as they passed.
As they rounded a corner, they nearly collided with Eleanora, her twin blade gleaming with fresh blood.
"Lord Magnus!" she exclaimed, relief evident in her voice. "I've been searching for the girls and Gwen. I saw Gwen fly off just before the attack, but I can't find any trace of the others."
Magnus's brow furrowed with worry, but he knew he had to focus on the immediate threat. "We'll find them, Eleanora. But right now, I need you to relay orders to Seroch. Tell him to move the Host into the village and aid the Albinaurics in securing it. Messmer and Radahn should be able to hold the perimeter."
Eleanora nodded, determination replacing her concern. "At once, my lord."
As she dashed off, Miquella spoke up. "Magnus, I can help. You don't need to protect me—"
Magnus cut him off gently but firmly. "Miquella, I won't risk your safety. Besides, if anything happened to you, Malenia would have my head."
Miquella looked like he wanted to argue further, but a nearby explosion cut off any response. Magnus tightened his grip on his brother and pressed on, searching for a safe haven amidst the chaos.
As Lansseax and the Godskin Dragon clashed in the sky, their battle illuminated the night with flashes of fire and lightning. Lansseax's scales gleamed with an otherworldly light as she unleashed a torrent of red lightning, her jaws snapping at her foe's neck. The Godskin Dragon retaliated with gouts of black flame, the two massive beasts locked in a deadly aerial dance.
Godwyn, standing atop the hill, watched the devastation unfold below. His eyes narrowed as he spotted Malenia, surrounded by a horde of Godskins, her blade a blur of motion as she fended off multiple attackers at once.
Without hesitation, Godwyn leapt from his perch. As he fell, red lightning crackled around his form, his descent like a bolt hurled by the gods themselves. He crashed into the battlefield with explosive force, the impact crushing a Godskin Noble beneath him and sending shockwaves through the surrounding enemies.
In one fluid motion, Godwyn rose, the legendary Cragblade materializing in his hand. Its edge glowed with divine power as he swung it in a wide arc, cleaving through two Apostles that had been lunging for Malenia.
"Sister!" Godwyn called out, his voice carrying over the din of battle.
Malenia's response was a fierce grin as she spun, her prosthetic leg lashing out to kick an enemy while her blade found the throat of another.
Back to back, Godwyn and Malenia became a whirlwind of destruction. Godwyn's Cragblade crackled with lightning, each strike sending arcs of electricity through multiple foes. Malenia's movements were a deadly ballet, her sword finding gaps in the Godskins' defenses with unerring precision.
A massive Noble attempted to crush Godwyn with its bulk, but the Golden demigod caught the attack with his bare hand. With a roar, he lifted the Noble and hurled it into a group of approaching Apostles, bowling them over.
Malenia, meanwhile, leapt high into the air, her blade glowing with an inner light. As she descended, she unleashed a flurry of strikes so fast they seemed to blur, cutting down enemies in a wide circle around her.
The siblings moved in perfect synchronization, covering each other's blind spots and striking out with devastating combos. Godwyn's lightning-infused attacks complemented Malenia's swift, precise strikes, creating a storm of steel and divine energy that the Godskins struggled to penetrate.
As they fought, their prowess seemed to inspire the defenders around them. Soldiers and Albinaurics alike fought with renewed vigor, pushing back against the Godskin invasion with fierce determination.
As the siblings fought side by side, a sudden blast of dark energy tore through a group of approaching Godskins. Maeve landed gracefully amidst the chaos, her Deathblade pulsing with ominous power.
"Thought you could use a hand," she quipped, immediately falling into step with Godwyn and Malenia's deadly dance.
Her eyes scanned the battlefield as she unleashed another wave of Destined Death, disintegrating several enemies. "Where's the Monarch? I didn't see him on my way in."
Godwyn's eyes widened as he realized the truth of her words. He glanced skyward, where Lansseax continued her fierce battle against the Godskin Dragon. "You're right. He's no longer atop the dragon. But where could he have—"
His words were cut short by panicked shouts from nearby Albinaurics. "Frenzied Flame cultists! They've joined the battle!"
Malenia's face paled, her thoughts immediately turning to Millicent. "No... we have to find her before they do!"
Maeve, sensing the urgency, quickly took to the air again. Her keen eyes scanned the chaotic battlefield below. After a moment, she called down to her sister. "I see them! They're approaching from the east, near the outskirts of the village!"
Malenia's grip on her sword tightened, frustration clear on her face. She knew she couldn't reach Millicent in time on foot. "Maeve, please! You have to go to her!"
Without a word, Maeve nodded. Understanding the gravity of the situation, she didn't waste time with a response. In a burst of speed, she took off towards the approaching cultists, her form a blur against the night sky.
Godwyn placed a reassuring hand on Malenia's shoulder. "Maeve will reach her in time. We must focus on the battle here."
Malenia nodded, steeling herself. With renewed determination, she and Godwyn threw themselves back into the fray, their blades flashing as they carved a path through the Godskin forces. But even as they fought, Malenia's thoughts were with her daughter, hoping against hope that Maeve would reach her in time.
The battle continued to rage around them, the fate of Stormcaller Village hanging in the balance as demigods and mortals alike fought against the twin threats of the Godskins and the encroaching Frenzied Flame.
As Messmer and Radahn stood back to back, their weapons dripping with the blood of fallen Godskins, they witnessed a new horror unfold. The unmistakable, manic cries of Frenzied Flame cultists filled the air as they joined the fray, their eyes burning with madness.
"Brother," Radahn growled, his massive sword cleaving through three enemies at once, "it seems our night just got more interesting."
Messmer's serpents hissed in agreement as he impaled a Apostle on his spear. "Indeed. The Lands Between never fail to surprise."
Amidst the chaos, Eleanora fought her way through the horde, her twin blade a whirlwind of steel. She finally reached Seroch, breathless but determined. "Lord Magnus commands the Host to aid the Albinaurics in the village!"
Seroch nodded grimly, raising his voice above the din of battle. "Men of the Host! To me! We march for the village!"
As Seroch and Eleanora led the charge, they found their path blocked by a wall of enemies. Cultists and Godskins alike formed an impenetrable barrier, their twisted forms illuminated by the fires of battle.
Messmer, seeing their predicament from afar, turned to Radahn. "Brother, I must go. The Host needs a path."
Radahn nodded, his red mane matted with blood and sweat. "Go. I'll hold them here."
With a burst of speed that belied his imposing size, Messmer charged towards the blockade. His spear became a blur of motion, dark red flames erupting from its tip with each thrust. Godskins fell like wheat before a scythe, their agonized screams cut short by Messmer's relentless assault.
The serpents that were part of Messmer's being lashed out, their fangs dripping with venom as they struck at cultists who dared approach. In mere moments, a path began to form through the enemy ranks.
"Now!" Messmer roared, his voice carrying over the battlefield. "Seroch, lead them through!"
Seroch didn't hesitate. With Eleanora at his side, he led the charge of the Host. Soldiers poured through the gap Messmer had created, their weapons raised high as they rushed to aid their allies.
As the last of the Host passed through, Messmer allowed himself a grim smile. He turned back to the battle, his spear ready, knowing that the night was far from over. The village stood a chance now, but the true test was yet to come.
Maeve soared through the night sky, her focus solely on reaching the girls before the Frenzied Flame cultists could. Suddenly, a searing pain erupted across her wings. Flames licked at her feathers as she plummeted to the ground, her descent a trail of smoke and embers.
She hit the earth hard, quickly rolling to extinguish the flames. Anger flashed in her eyes as she scanned for her attacker. There, amidst the chaos, stood a knight commander, his armor warped and twisted by the influence of the Frenzied Flame. Madness danced in his eyes as he readied another attack.
"You dare?" Maeve snarled, her Deathblade materializing in her hand. She charged forward, intent on exacting swift and terrible vengeance.
But before she could reach her target, an overwhelming force struck her, driving her to her knees. A wave of nausea and disorientation washed over her as a grotesque figure emerged from the shadows.
Maeve's eyes widened in recognition and fear. An Aged One - a being so consumed by the Frenzied Flame that it had become a conduit for its god's power. Its twisted form seemed to flicker and shift in the firelight, defying reality itself.
The Aged One made no sound as it extended its arm towards Maeve, its hand contorted into a mockery of a wand. Instantly, Maeve felt the Frenzied Flame ignite within her very being. The madness clawed at her mind, threatening to consume her entirely.
Maeve gritted her teeth, fighting against the overwhelming urge to surrender to the chaos. She could feel her grip on sanity slipping, the whispers of the Flame growing louder with each passing second.
In a moment of desperation, Maeve reached deep within herself, tapping into the very essence of Destined Death that resided within her. With a primal roar that shook the air around her, she unleashed a wave of pure death energy.
The Aged One, caught in the blast, let out an inhuman shriek as it was unmade. Its form disintegrated, scattering to the winds like ash.
Maeve collapsed to her hands and knees, gasping for breath. The Frenzied Flame's influence receded, leaving her shaken but intact. She looked up, her eyes locking onto the stunned knight commander who had shot her down.
"You," she growled, slowly rising to her feet, "have made a grave mistake."
As Maeve advanced on the now-terrified knight, her thoughts turned once again to the girls. She had overcome this obstacle, but time was running short.
Magnus and his Host fought their way through the chaos-strewn streets of Stormcaller Village, their blades flashing in the firelight as they cut down Godskins and cultists alike. As they approached Philia's checkpoint, Magnus could see the towering Albinauric leader directing her people with calm efficiency amidst the mayhem.
"Philia!" Magnus called out as they neared. "What's the situation?"
Philia turned, relief evident in her eyes. "Lord Magnus, thank the stars. We're holding, but barely. The eastern sector is overrun."
Magnus nodded grimly, then turned to Miquella. With a wave of his hand, two spectral forms materialized beside them - the imposing figure of Lluthel the Headless and the ethereal presence of the Ancient Dragon Priestess Florissax.
"Guard him with your lives," Magnus commanded the spirits, his voice resonating with authority. He then addressed a group of his most trusted knights. "You'll remain here as well. Miquella's safety is paramount."
Miquella opened his mouth to protest, but Magnus cut him off with a look. "No arguments, brother. We need you safe."
Turning to Seroch, Magnus's tone became sharp and decisive. "Take half the Host and reinforce the perimeter. We can't let them push any further into the village."
Seroch saluted, immediately barking orders to his men as they moved out.
Magnus then locked eyes with Eleanora, his expression hardening with determination. "You're with me. We need to find Malenia and the girls."
Eleanora nodded, her twin blade at the ready. "Lead the way, my lord."
With a powerful beat of his wings, Magnus launched himself forward, Eleanora keeping pace at his side. They tore through the village, a whirlwind of steel and divine energy, cutting down any enemy foolish enough to stand in their path.
The far side of Stormcaller Village had become a warzone, with Elaine and the Cleanrot Knights fighting desperately against the overwhelming tide of enemies. The girls, despite their own formidable skills, found themselves pushed to their limits.
Elaine's voice cut through the chaos, "Fall back! We can't hold this position!"
The group retreated in tight formation, covering each other as they moved to a more defensible location. They barricaded themselves in a sturdy building, using overturned furniture and debris to fortify their position.
As they caught their breath, Millicent suddenly doubled over, clutching her head. "No... not now," she gasped, her voice laced with pain.
Her sisters gathered around her, concern etched on their faces.
"Millicent, stay with us," Mary urged, her newly restored eyes wide with worry.
"Fight it, sister," Maureen added, her hand on Millicent's shoulder.
But their words of comfort were cut short by a chilling sight. In the center of the room, black flames erupted from thin air, twisting and writhing into a portal. The girls tensed, weapons at the ready, as a figure stepped through.
The Godskin Monarch emerged from the flames, his presence filling the room with an oppressive aura. His eyes, cold and calculating, swept over the group before settling on Millicent.
Elaine stepped forward, her blade pointed at the intruder. "You'll not touch them, monster!"
The Monarch's lips curled into a cruel smile.
More black flames began to appear around the room, heralding the arrival of Godskin reinforcements. The girls formed a protective circle around Millicent, who was still struggling against the whispers in her mind.
"Whatever you're planning," Amy snarled, her sword of darkness pulsing with energy, "it won't work. Our family will stop you."
As the Godskins began to materialize from the flames, the girls and the Cleanrot Knights readied themselves for what could be their final stand.
As the tension in the room reached its peak, a new figure emerged from the shadows. The Gloam-Eyed Queen stepped forward, her mismatched eyes fixed on the Godskin Monarch. Her sudden appearance drew gasps from the girls and a look of genuine surprise from the Monarch.
The Monarch hissed, momentarily forgetting his other targets.
Without waiting for an answer, he summoned a massive blast of Destined Death, hurling it at his creator. But the Gloam-Eyed Queen moved with fluid grace, her hands weaving intricate patterns in the air. The deadly energy stopped mid-flight, dissolving into harmless wisps of shadow.
"Foolish child," she chided, her voice carrying centuries of power and knowledge. "Did you truly believe you could use my own techniques against me? I taught you the ways of Destined Death. I know its every secret."
Rage contorted the Monarch's features. With a roar of frustration, he abandoned the power of death and called upon the chaotic energies of the Frenzied Flame. The air around him shimmered with heat as madness incarnate began to pour from his hands, bathing the church in its sickly light.
Elaine, seizing the moment of distraction, turned to the girls. "This is our chance! We must get you to safety!"
She ushered them towards a side exit, her Cleanrot Knights forming a protective barrier around them. As they burst out into the night air, they found themselves immediately set upon by a group of Godskins who had been lying in wait.
Elaine's face set in grim determination. She turned to the girls, her voice urgent. "Run! Find your parents! We'll hold them off!"
Millicent, still battling the whispers in her mind, hesitated. "But Elaine—"
"Go!" Elaine shouted, already engaging the first Godskin. "That's an order!"
The girls, torn between their desire to help and the need to warn their family, finally turned and ran. Behind them, they could hear the clash of steel and the battle cries of Elaine and her knights as they fought to buy them time.
"Malenia!" Magnus called out, relief evident in his voice. "The girls?"
Malenia dispatched another Godskin before responding, "Eastern side, with Elaine and the Cleanrots!"
Godwyn, his Cragblade crackling with divine energy, turned to them. "Go! Find them! I can handle things here."
Magnus nodded, then turned to Gwen who had just arrived. "Stay with Godwyn. Lend him your strength."
As if on cue, Siluria and Devonia, the mighty Crucible Knights, descended upon the battlefield. Their arrival turned the tide, their ancient powers overwhelming the Godskin forces.
"Good timing, old friends," Godwyn grinned, as the knights took up positions beside him.
With a nod to Eleanora, Magnus and Malenia took off towards the eastern sector, their hearts racing with worry for their daughters.
They found the girls running towards them, fear and relief warring on their faces. Magnus and Malenia embraced them tightly, checking them for injuries.
"Thank the stars you're safe," Malenia breathed.
But their relief was short-lived as the girls hurriedly explained the situation with the Monarch.
Magnus's face hardened, his golden eyes blazing with determination. "I'll deal with him. This ends now."
As he turned to leave, Malenia caught his arm, her voice tight with emotion. "Magnus, wait. If you're going to confront him... please, be careful this time. We can't lose you again."
Magnus paused, seeing the fear and love in Malenia's eyes. He cupped her face gently, his voice soft but resolute. "I promise. I'll come back to you. All of you."
With a final glance at his family, Magnus spread his wings and took to the air, ready to face the Monarch and end this threat once and for all.
Magnus and Maeve soared through the chaos-filled sky, their wings cutting through smoke and ash. As they approached their target, Magnus quickly briefed his sister on the situation.
Maeve's eyes lit up with a fierce, almost predatory gleam. "The Monarch, you say? Care to deal with him together, brother?"
"Fuck yeah," Magnus replied, a grim smile spreading across his face.
They descended upon the shack like avenging angels, their weapons flashing in the firelight as they cut through the Godskins inside. As they burst into the main room, they saw the Gloam-Eyed Queen locked in a standoff with the Monarch.
Without hesitation, Maeve launched herself at the Monarch, her body colliding with his with tremendous force. The impact sent them both crashing through the wall and into the night air.
Magnus followed close behind, his wings propelling him after the tumbling pair. They landed hard in a nearby courtyard, the ground cracking beneath them from the impact.
The Monarch rose first, his Godslayer Greatsword materializing in his hands. Black flames erupted along its length, casting an eerie glow across the battlefield. The twins landed a short distance away, their own weapons at the ready.
Magnus's sword pulsed with the power of the Rune of Life, a brilliant blue-white light emanating from its blade. Maeve's Deathblade hummed with dark energy, red and black wisps curling around its edge.
The three stood in a tense triangle, the air between them charged with palpable energy. The Monarch's eyes darted between the siblings, calculating his odds.
He charged forward, his massive blade leaving trails of black flame in its wake. Magnus and Maeve split apart, flanking their opponent.
The courtyard erupted into a maelstrom of clashing steel, divine energy, and primal power as the twins faced off against their formidable foe.
Magnus struck high, his sword blazing with life energy as it clashed against the Monarch's Godslayer Greatsword. The impact sent shockwaves through the air, the conflicting energies creating a spectacular light show.
Maeve, seizing the opening, darted in low. Her Deathblade sliced through the Monarch's defenses, leaving a trail of dark energy in its wake. The Monarch howled in pain, stumbling back from the dual assault.
"Is that all you've got?" Maeve taunted, her blade dancing in intricate patterns as she pressed her advantage.
Magnus followed up with a powerful wing beat, the gust of wind amplifying his next strike. The Monarch barely managed to parry, his feet skidding across the ground from the force.
But the Monarch's eyes blazed with hatred and desperation. Realizing he was outmatched, he let out a primal roar. Black flames erupted from his body, forcing the twins to momentarily retreat.
The Monarch snarled. He raised his sword high, the black flames coalescing into a swirling vortex above him.
From the vortex, grotesque forms began to emerge. Nobles, their bloated bodies wobbling as they hit the ground, and Apostles, their elongated limbs twisting unnaturally as they materialized.
Within moments, Magnus and Maeve found themselves surrounded by a pack of Godskins, the Monarch's laughter echoing across the courtyard.
Magnus and Maeve stood back to back, their weapons at the ready. The odds had shifted dramatically, but determination still burned in their eyes.
The battle intensified as Magnus and Maeve found themselves surrounded by Godskins. They moved in perfect sync, their blades creating a deadly whirlwind of energy.
Magnus unleashed a wave of life energy, stunning several Nobles. He followed through with swift, precise strikes, each blow felling an enemy. "Maeve, on your left!"
Maeve ducked, narrowly avoiding an Apostle's elongated arm. She retaliated with a burst of Destined Death, reducing the creature to ash.
Magnus spun, his wings knocking back two charging Nobles. He dispatched them quickly, his sword leaving trails of blue-white light.
Despite their skill, the sheer number of enemies began to take its toll. The twins found themselves being pushed back, forced to defend more than attack.
"We need to end this!" Maeve shouted over the chaos.
Magnus nodded, understanding her intent. They shared a quick glance, a silent plan forming between them.
In a burst of speed, Magnus cleared a path through the Godskins, creating an opening for Maeve. She seized the opportunity, launching herself at the Monarch who had been hanging back, directing his minions.
Maeve's Deathblade clashed against the Godslayer Greatsword, the impact sending shockwaves through the air. With a roar of effort, she overpowered the Monarch, sending him flying across the village.
She prepared to give chase, but a fresh wave of Godskins surged forward, cutting off her pursuit.
"Damn it!" Maeve snarled, forced to turn her attention back to the immediate threat.
She rejoined Magnus, their backs once again pressed together as they faced the seemingly endless horde of Godskins.
"Lost your dance partner?" Magnus quipped, parrying an Apostle's attack.
Maeve grinned fiercely, her blade cutting down two Nobles in one sweep. "These guys seem eager for our attention."
As they continued their relentless fight against the Godskins, both siblings knew that somewhere in the chaos of the village, the Monarch was regrouping. The battle was far from over.
As Magnus and Maeve battled the relentless tide of Godskins, a piercing cry echoed from above. They looked up to see Lansseax, her massive form silhouetted against the night sky, suddenly beset by a flock of enormous storm birds. The creatures' eyes glowed with an unnatural yellow light, their bodies wreathed in the telltale flames of Frenzy.
Lansseax roared in pain as the birds' metal-like talons tore into her scales, their frenzied flames scorching her hide. Despite her size and power, the sheer number of attackers was overwhelming her.
"Lansseax!" Magnus shouted, his voice filled with concern for their draconic ally.
Maeve's eyes narrowed as she assessed the situation. "She needs help, now!"
Without hesitation, the twins made their decision. They knew the Godskins were a pressing threat, but they couldn't abandon their friend.
In a burst of speed, they took to the air, leaving the confused Godskins behind. As they ascended, they could see the full extent of Lansseax's predicament. The storm birds swarmed around her like angry wasps, their frenzied attacks relentless.
Magnus reached her first, his sword cleaving through the air and bisecting a storm bird that was trying to gouge at Lansseax's eyes. The creature fell from the sky, its mad screeching cut short.
Maeve was right behind him, her Deathblade leaving trails of dark energy as she tore through the flock.
Lansseax, seeing her allies arrive, found renewed strength. She unleashed a torrent of lightning, the red bolts arcing between the storm birds and sending several plummeting to the earth below.
As they fought, Magnus called out to Lansseax, "Are you alright? Can you keep fighting?"
The ancient dragon's voice rumbled in their minds, tinged with pain but unbroken. "I am wounded, but not defeated. These pests will not best me."
Maeve grinned fiercely as she impaled another bird on her blade. "That's the spirit! Let's send these overgrown pigeons back to whatever mad god spawned them!"
As chaos engulfed their previous sanctuary, Miquella and his protectors were forced to flee. The sounds of battle grew closer, signaling that their area of the village was being overrun by enemy forces.
"We must find Philia and the others," Miquella urged, his childlike form belying the authority in his voice. "They'll need our help."
As they navigated the burning streets, searching for their allies, a sinister presence materialized before them. The Godskin Monarch emerged from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with malevolent intent.
Miquella's guards immediately moved to protect him, engaging the Monarch in fierce combat. They fought bravely, but the Monarch's power proved overwhelming. One by one, they fell to his Godslayer Greatsword, their bodies crumpling to the ground.
Seeing the tide turn, Miquella made a quick decision. He turned to the spectral forms of Lluthel and Florissax. "Go! Warn the others!" With a gesture, he dismissed the spirits before the Monarch could destroy them.
The Monarch advanced on Miquella, his blade dripping with the blood of the fallen guards.
Miquella's eyes narrowed, his small frame tensing. As the Monarch lunged forward, Miquella's hands moved in a complex pattern. Suddenly, a blinding light erupted from his palms, the force of the blast sending the Monarch staggering backward.
Seizing the moment, Miquella turned and ran, his heart pounding as he navigated the burning village. He rounded a corner, hope rising as he spotted a potential escape route. But his heart sank as he realized he had hit a dead end, trapped between burning buildings with no way out.
Miquella turned, his back against the wall, as he heard the Monarch's approaching footsteps.
As the Monarch raised his hand, black flames coalescing into a devastating blast, Miquella braced himself for the impact. He closed his eyes, his mind racing for a solution, a spell, anything that might save him.
But the searing heat never came.
Instead, Miquella felt familiar golden arms wrap around him protectively. His eyes snapped open, realization dawning even before he could fully process the scene.
Malenia stood before him, her back to the Monarch, using her body as a shield. The black flames engulfed her entirely, their dark energy crackling and hissing as they consumed her form.
Time seemed to slow as Miquella watched in horror. His sister, his protector, his Blade - Malenia had appeared in the final moment, placing herself between him and certain death.
The blast's force pushed them back, Malenia's grip on Miquella never wavering even as the flames ravaged her body. Her golden prosthetics glowed white-hot from the heat, yet she didn't falter.
As the flames began to dissipate, Malenia's form slumped, her arms still wrapped around Miquella. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air, and Miquella could feel the heat radiating from his sister's body.
"Malenia?" Miquella whispered, his voice trembling. "Sister?"
But there was no response. Malenia, the Blade of Miquella, had given her life to protect her twin. As the reality of what had just happened sank in, Miquella's anguished cry echoed through the burning alley, a sound of pure grief and loss that cut through the chaos of the battle raging around them.
Chapter End Notes
Angel's Wrath As the black flames dissipated, revealing the tragic scene, the girls stood frozen in shock. They had witnessed it all - their mother's final, selfless act to protect Miquella. Suddenly, they felt a profound emptiness within themselves, as if a vital part of their being had been suddenly torn away. The connection they shared with Malenia, a bond forged through both blood, love, and rot abruptly severed.
Millicent stumbled, her hand clutching at her chest. Mary's newly restored eyes filled with tears, while Maureen and Amy clung to each other, their faces pale with disbelief. Polyanna fell to her knees, a soundless scream caught in her throat.
High above the burning village, Magnus suddenly stiffened mid-battle. A chill ran down his spine, and he turned towards the source of the heart-wrenching cries. His golden eyes widened as they fell upon Malenia's motionless form cradled in Miquella's arms.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The chaos of the battle faded into the background as Magnus stared, uncomprehending, at the scene below. His sword arm dropped to his side, his wings beating mechanically to keep him aloft. No words came to his lips, no tears to his eyes. The shock was too great, too sudden for his mind to process.
Maeve, noticing her brother's sudden stillness, followed his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized what had happened. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din of battle.
Lansseax, sensing the shift in her allies, turned her massive head. Even the ancient dragon seemed to falter at the sight, a low, mournful rumble escaping her.
The three of them hovered there, suspended in a moment of shared grief and disbelief, as the battle raged on around them. The loss of Malenia, a pillar of strength and love in their lives, threatened to unravel the very fabric of their world.
Maeve felt it before she saw it - a tsunami of death energy unlike anything she had ever experienced. It wasn't emanating from her, but from Magnus. She turned to her brother, and the sight nearly took her breath away.
Magnus's form, once radiant with the blue-white energy of life, now pulsed with an aura of pure, unrestrained death. It was more potent, more primal than anything Maeve had ever wielded or encountered. The air around him seemed to warp and twist, reality itself bending under the weight of his grief-fueled power.
His golden eyes, usually warm and compassionate, now blazed with an inferno of rage and anguish. With a roar that shook the very foundations of Stormcaller Village, Magnus launched himself at the Monarch.
The Monarch, caught off guard by the sudden assault, barely managed to dodge Magnus's initial strike. The ground where Magnus's blade hit cracked and blackened, death energy seeping into the earth.
Realizing the dire threat before him, the Monarch frantically began summoning reinforcements. Frenzied cultists materialized, their eyes glowing with madness. Grotesque monsters clawed their way into existence, and more Godskins appeared, their bodies twisting as they took form.
But these reinforcements might as well have been made of paper before Magnus's onslaught. He tore through them with terrifying efficiency, each swing of his sword leaving trails of devastation. Cultists crumbled to ash at his touch, monsters were unmade in an instant, and Godskins found their unholy flesh offering no protection against Magnus's fury.
The Monarch, for the first time, felt true fear as he desperately parried and dodged. Each clash of their blades sent shockwaves through the battlefield, the conflicting energies creating a maelstrom of destruction around them.
Maeve watched in awe and terror as her brother became a force of nature, an avatar of death itself. She had always known Magnus's potential, but this... this was beyond anything she had imagined.
As the other demigods arrived at the scene, the full weight of the tragedy struck them. Malenia's lifeless form lay cradled in Miquella's arms, her twin's face a mask of anguish and disbelief. Nearby, her daughters huddled together, crying.
Godwyn's usually stoic demeanor cracked as he beheld his fallen sister. His golden hair seemed to dim, his shoulders sagging under the weight of loss. Radahn, the mighty Starscourge, stood frozen, his massive frame trembling with a mix of sorrow and rage. Messmer did not know what to do or say, but knelt beside them.
Their eyes then turned to the battlefield, where a brilliant light cut through the chaos of war. Magnus, their brother, had become a beacon of terrifying beauty. His form radiated an intense blue-white energy, his wings spread wide as he tore through the Godskin forces with ruthless efficiency.
Each swing of Magnus's blade left trails of pure life energy, paradoxically bringing death to all who stood in his path. The Godskins, creatures that had long instilled fear in others, now found themselves retreating in terror from this new, awe-inspiring threat.
Messmer's serpents hissed in agitation, sensing the raw power emanating from Magnus. Even the Gloam-Eyed Queen, who had seen countless battles and wielded immense power herself, watched with a mix of respect and trepidation.
As Magnus continued his relentless assault, his siblings joined the fray, their combined might creating a storm of destruction that swept across the battlefield.
Maeve's Deathblade sang through the air, reaping Godskins with deadly precision. Her power over death complemented Magnus's life energy, creating a devastating synergy that left their enemies no refuge.
Godwyn, his grief fueling his strength, wielded his Cragblade with furious intensity. Red lightning arced from his weapon, striking down foes and leaving charred remains in his wake.
Radahn's massive form dominated the battlefield, his gravity magic crushing Godskins beneath impossibly heavy blows. His red mane billowed as he carved a path of destruction, matching Magnus's intensity with his own.
Messmer's spear danced amidst the chaos, its dark red flames consuming any who dared approach. His serpents lashed out, their venom bringing swift death to those beyond his reach.
Even Miquella, despite his small stature, contributed to the onslaught. From his position, he called down blasts of divine light, each beam incinerating groups of enemies and creating openings for his siblings to exploit.
The Monarch found himself overwhelmed, his forces crumbling before the unified might of the demigods. As Magnus closed in for the killing blow, his blade wreathed in brilliant blue-white energy, the Monarch made a desperate decision.
In the split second before Magnus's sword could connect, the Monarch vanished in a burst of black flame. The blade cut through empty air, leaving Magnus's vengeance unsated.
The battlefield fell silent, the remaining Godskins retreating or falling to the demigods' final sweeping attacks. Victory was theirs, but it came at a terrible cost. As the adrenaline of battle faded, the reality of their loss settled once again upon their shoulders, leaving them to face the aftermath.
The demigods gathered around Malenia's fallen form. Magnus, his radiant glow slowly fading, approached with measured steps. The weight of loss seemed to bend his normally proud posture as he knelt beside Miquella and the girls.
Mary and Polyanna immediately sought comfort in his arms, their bodies shaking with sobs. Magnus held them close, his own tears falling silently. The once-vibrant light in his golden eyes had dimmed, replaced by a profound sorrow that spoke of something fundamental having shattered within him.
Maeve and Godwyn watched their brother, sensing the deep fracture in his spirit. Maeve, in particular, could feel the change in him, a shift in the very essence of his being that went beyond mere grief.
A thunderous roar drew their attention skyward. Lansseax descended, the severed head of the Godskin Dragon falling from her jaws as she landed. The ancient dragon's eyes, usually fierce and proud, now held a somber understanding as she gazed upon Malenia's body.
Turning to Godwyn, Lansseax saw the quiet tears streaming down his face. The firstborn of Marika, who had watched over Malenia since she was a child, now mourned the loss of his baby sister. Without a word, Lansseax enveloped him in a comforting embrace, her massive form curling protectively around the grieving demigod.
As the night's chaos subsided, the Albinaurics cautiously emerged from their hiding places. They gathered at a respectful distance, their faces etched with horror and sorrow as they witnessed the aftermath of the battle and the profound loss suffered by their protectors.
As the sun rose on the day after the battle, a somber mood hung over Stormcaller Village. The Albinaurics, alongside the soldiers of the demigods' forces, laid their fallen comrades to rest in a mass grave, a tribute to their sacrifice.
The demigods, however, were absent from this communal mourning. They had their own, more personal farewell to make.
Guided by Miquella's memory of his sister's love for water, they journeyed down the Grand Lift of Dectus to the flooded ruins of Liurnia. There, amidst the tranquil waters that now covered the once-grand landscape, they prepared for Malenia's final journey.
A small boat had been crafted, its design simple yet elegant. Malenia's body lay within, clad in her full armor, her helm in place. Her sword, the weapon that had been an extension of her very being, rested in her hands. Even in death, she remained a warrior, and it was as a warrior that she would be remembered.
The demigods gathered at the shore, their faces etched with grief. Godwyn stood tall, his golden hair dulled by sorrow. Radahn's imposing figure seemed diminished by loss. Messmer remained stoic, but his serpents coiled restlessly, reflecting his inner turmoil. Maeve's usual sharp demeanor was softened by sadness. Miquella, small in stature but great in spirit, stood at the forefront, his eyes never leaving his twin's form.
Nearby, Eleanora and Gwen offered what comfort they could to the grieving girls. Mary, Millicent, Maureen, Amy, and Polyanna clung to each other, their tears flowing freely for the mother they had lost.
The Cleanrot Knights, led by a distraught Elaine, stood at attention, honoring their fallen commander. Seroch, the stalwart captain of the Host, placed a comforting hand on Elaine's shoulder.
As they prepared to set the boat adrift, the absence of Magnus was keenly felt. The Angel, so central to their family, had withdrawn in his grief, unable to bear this final farewell.
With gentle hands, they pushed the boat into the still waters of Liurnia. As it drifted away, carrying Malenia on her last voyage, a profound silence fell over the gathering. Each person present was lost in their own memories of the fierce, proud, and ultimately selfless warrior who had touched their lives.
The boat slowly disappeared into the mist that hung over the lake, taking with it a piece of each of their hearts. As they stood there, united in loss, they knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
Miquella's gaze was drawn upward. At the edge of the Altus Plateau, a lone figure with wings stood watching. Miquella recognized the silhouette immediately – Magnus.
For a moment, their brother remained motionless, a solitary sentinel overlooking their farewell. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Magnus turned and took to the skies, his form quickly becoming a speck against the vast expanse.
Miquella's heart tightened, understanding the weight of Magnus's actions. He knew exactly what his brother intended, the path of vengeance he was embarking upon. A part of Miquella, the part that had always been the voice of reason and kindness, urged him to speak up, to alert the others of Magnus's departure. But another part, raw with grief and burning with a desire for retribution, kept him silent.
He made a conscious choice to let Magnus go, knowing full well that their siblings would try to stop him if they knew. In this moment, even Miquella the Kind found himself aligning with the pursuit of vengeance.
Godwyn, noticing Miquella's distant gaze, stepped forward. He placed a comforting hand on Miquella's shoulder, trying to offer solace while barely holding himself together. Miquella looked up, seeing the struggle in Godwyn's eyes – the effort to be strong for his family warring with his own profound grief.
Without a word, Miquella wrapped his arms around Godwyn's leg, clinging to his older brother. This simple act of seeking comfort broke through Godwyn's fragile composure. Tears began to flow freely down his face, his body shaking with quiet sobs.
The rest of the group remained oblivious to Magnus's departure, lost in their own grief. As Miquella held onto Godwyn, he silently hoped that whatever Magnus was planning would bring some measure of justice for Malenia. The coming days would be difficult, but for now, they allowed themselves this moment of shared sorrow, drawing strength from each other in the face of their overwhelming loss.
Magnus soared through the vast skies of the Lands Between, his wings cutting through clouds with purposeful strokes. The world below passed in a blur, inconsequential to his single-minded mission. His golden eyes, usually warm and compassionate, now burned with a cold, implacable fury.
The grief that threatened to overwhelm him was held at bay by his rage, a quiet inferno that fueled every beat of his wings.
As he flew, Magnus's mind raced, calculating possible hideouts, analyzing patterns, searching for any clue that might lead him to the Godskin Monarch. The creature that had taken Malenia from them, that had nearly destroyed him once before, he would not escape his wrath this time.
The Monarch's face flashed in Magnus's mind, igniting a fresh surge of anger. His hands clenched involuntarily, imagining the moment he would finally confront his nemesis. There would be no mercy, no hesitation. Only retribution.
Magnus pushed himself harder, flying faster and higher. He knew the others would eventually realize his absence, might even try to stop him. But he couldn't allow that. This was his path now, a road paved with vengeance and lined with the ashes of those who stood in his way.
The Last Demigod, the Lifebringer, had become an avatar of retribution, and the Lands Between trembled at his passing.
The somber silence that had settled over the group was broken by Maeve's irritated voice. "Where the hell is Magnus? Has anyone seen him?"
The others shook their heads, murmuring negatives. Miquella remained silent, his eyes fixed on the ground.
Maeve's gaze sharpened as it landed on Miquella. "You. You know something, don't you?"
Miquella's head snapped up, his voice defensive. "What? That's insane. How could I possibly—"
"Your heart rate just spiked," Lansseax interjected, her draconic senses picking up on Miquella's physiological changes.
Maeve nodded, her eyes narrowing. "And that, dear brother, was the tone of a liar. Trust me, I'm an expert."
Miquella's shoulders slumped as he realized he was cornered. "Fine. Magnus... he's gone after the Monarch."
A beat of stunned silence followed, quickly shattered by an eruption of voices.
"What?!" Godwyn exclaimed.
"Alone?" Radahn growled.
Maeve and Lansseax immediately sprang into action, wings unfurling and muscles tensing.
"We have to go after him," Maeve declared, ready to take off.
Godwyn grabbed her arm. "Wait! We don't even know which direction he went!"
"I can track his scent," Lansseax offered, her massive form already turning towards the sky.
Messmer's calm voice cut through the chaos. "And what then? Do we drag him back? Fight him if he resists?"
"If we have to," Maeve snapped.
Miquella finally spoke up, his voice small but firm. "No. We... we should let him go."
All eyes turned to him in disbelief.
"Have you lost your mind?" Maeve hissed.
Miquella met her gaze steadily. "He needs this. We all do. The Monarch has to pay for what he's done."
Maeve rounded on Miquella, her eyes blazing with fury and fear. "Are you out of your mind? The Monarch killed Magnus once before. I won't take that chance again. You of all people should understand that!"
Miquella stood his ground, his small frame tensed. "I do understand, Maeve. But you saw him last night. Magnus is different now, more powerful. The only reason the Monarch escaped was because of the other Godskins. The only reason Malenia died was because of me."
Lansseax shook her massive head, her voice rumbling with determination. "It doesn't matter. I won't lose him again either. I can track his scent. We should go now."
The group erupted into heated debate. Radahn's voice boomed, "Let him have his vengeance! We all want the Monarch dead."
"And risk losing another sibling?" Godwyn countered. "We should bring him back, regroup."
Messmer hissed, "Have you considered we might get in the Monarch's crosshairs ourselves if we interfere?"
As the arguments escalated, a calm, authoritative voice cut through the chaos. The Gloam-Eyed Queen stepped forward, her mismatched eyes surveying the group.
"This is Magnus's journey," she stated firmly. "You should let him make it alone."
Maeve whirled on her, eyes narrowing dangerously. "And who are you to decide that? You have no idea what's at stake here!"
The Gloam-Eyed Queen held Maeve's gaze steadily. Without a word, she reached into her robes and produced a single white feather. It gleamed with an otherworldly light, familiar to those who had encountered such feathers before.
"I decide," she said calmly, "because this feather showed me a vision. I saw Magnus standing victorious over the Monarch's defeated form."
A stunned silence fell over the group. Maeve's eyes widened, her anger momentarily replaced by shock.
"You... you saw that?" she whispered, her voice uncharacteristically uncertain.
The Gloam-Eyed Queen nodded solemnly. "The path is set. Interfering may change the outcome we all desire. Your brother is the lifebringer, and he shall soon learn just what that means."
Magnus streaked through the sky, his form a brilliant blur as he hurtled towards his target. Using the gravity magic Radahn had taught him, he accelerated his descent, becoming a living comet of vengeance.
He crashed into the Godskin encampment with devastating force, the impact instantly killing four of the grotesque beings. Smoke and debris billowed around him, obscuring him from view.
Seizing the moment of confusion, Magnus unleashed an Elden Stars incantation. Brilliant orbs of golden energy erupted from the smokescreen, homing in on the panicked Godskins. Explosions of light and screams of agony filled the air.
Not letting up for a second, Magnus emerged from the smoke, hurling massive fireballs as he cut down Godskins with precise, lethal strikes of his sword. The camp descended into chaos, the Godskins scrambling to mount a defense against this unexpected assault.
The Monarch, realizing the gravity of the situation, summoned black flames to engulf his Godslayer Greatsword. With a roar, he charged towards Magnus, flanked by two lumbering Nobles.
Magnus's eyes narrowed, focusing on his approaching foes. With a gesture, he called down a furious Ancient Dragon Lightning Strike. Blinding bolts of lightning crashed into the Monarch and his allies, the air crackling with ozone and the stench of burned flesh.
Before they could recover, Magnus followed up with a Full Moon spell. A miniature celestial body materialized above the battlefield, its ethereal light washing over the trio. The Nobles crumbled under the onslaught of cosmic energy, leaving only the Monarch standing, his form smoking and battered.
As Magnus stood amidst the devastation he had wrought, his form began to radiate with an intense blue-white light. The Rune of Life pulsed within him, its power flooding every fiber of his being. His wings spread wide, each feather gleaming with an otherworldly brilliance.
The Monarch, though battered, raised his Godslayer Greatsword defiantly. Black flames danced along its length, a stark contrast to Magnus's radiant glow.
Without a word, they charged at each other.
Magnus's blade, wreathed in pure life energy, met the Monarch's sword in a clash that sent shockwaves across the battlefield. The conflicting energies of life and godslaying flame created a maelstrom of power around them.
They broke apart and clashed again, their movements a blur of light and shadow. Magnus's strikes were precise and relentless, each blow infused with the intent to end the Monarch's existence. The Monarch parried and countered, his own attacks fueled by desperation and the dark power he wielded.
The ground beneath them cracked and splintered from the force of their duel. Waves of energy radiated outward with each collision of their blades, scorching the earth and igniting the air.
Magnus pressed his advantage, his mastery over life allowing him to shrug off wounds that would have felled lesser beings. The Monarch, realizing he was outmatched, resorted to increasingly desperate tactics, summoning waves of black flame in an attempt to overwhelm his opponent.
But Magnus was unstoppable. His grief, his rage, and his unwavering determination fueled him, making him a force of nature incarnate. With each exchange, the Monarch found himself driven back, his defenses crumbling under Magnus's onslaught.
The battle raged on, a spectacular display of power and skill that would have awed any witness. But for Magnus, there was only one goal - to destroy the being responsible for so much pain and loss.
As the battle raged on, Magnus unleashed the full breadth of his powers. He cast Comet Azur, a beam of intense blue energy that forced the Monarch to dodge frantically. Following up, Magnus summoned Ekzykes's Decay, coating the battlefield in scarlet rot that hissed and bubbled, limiting the Monarch's movement.
The Monarch, desperate, called upon the Flame of Frenzy. Yellow flames erupted from his eyes as he hurled maddening fire at Magnus. But Magnus countered with Law of Regression, the golden light nullifying the chaotic energy.
Realizing his predicament, the Monarch tapped into the dormant powers of Destined Death within him. Red-black energy crackled around his form as he launched a devastating attack.
Magnus didn't even flinch. He met the assault with a casual wave of his hand, the Rune of Life glowing brilliantly as it negated the death energy. With a flick of his wrist, Magnus cast Elden Stars, surrounding the Monarch with seeking projectiles of golden light.
As the Monarch struggled to evade, Magnus followed up with Black Blade, the ghostly image of the Rune of Death appearing briefly as he slashed. The attack left the Monarch reeling, his godslayer armor cracking under the assault.
He cast Meteorite of Astel, summoning a barrage of cosmic rocks that rained down upon the Monarch. As his foe scrambled to defend himself, Magnus continued his relentless assault, each spell and strike a testament to his overwhelming power and the futility of the Monarch's resistance.
With a final, decisive move, Magnus plunged his sword deep into the Monarch's chest. The Monarch's eyes widened in shock and pain, but before he could even cry out, Magnus channeled all the life energy he had accumulated during their battle into the blow.
A blinding surge of blue-white energy pulsed through the sword and into the Monarch's body. The Godskin leader convulsed, his form writhing as the pure life force invaded every fiber of his being. But this was not healing energy - it was judgement incarnate.
Magnus felt the Monarch's dark soul being torn from its physical anchor, drawn into his blade by the overwhelming power of the Rune of Life. For a moment, he held the essence of his nemesis at his disposal, feeling its weight and the malevolence that defined it.
Without hesitation or mercy, Magnus exerted his will upon the captive soul. The blade glowed even brighter as he focused all his power, all his grief and rage, into a single purpose - absolute destruction. The Monarch's soul, once so powerful and terrifying, was obliterated, scattered into nothingness by the sheer force of Magnus's retribution.
As the light faded, the Monarch's lifeless body slumped to the ground, an empty husk devoid of the dark power that had animated it. Magnus stood over his fallen foe, his breathing steady, his face a mask of grim satisfaction.
He surveyed the battlefield around him, taking in the devastation wrought by their conflict. Bodies of Godskins lay strewn about, the earth scarred and smoldering from the clash of powerful magics. It was over. Justice, or perhaps vengeance, had been served.
With a deep sigh that seemed to carry the weight of all he had endured, Magnus spread his wings. Without a backward glance at the carnage he left behind, he took to the skies, leaving the scene of his victory behind as he soared into the vast expanse above.
The Reborn Blade Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes The tension at the base of the Grand Lift of Dectus was growing as the demigods waited, their patience wearing thin with each passing moment. Eleanora stood off to the side, her hand resting comfortingly on Gwen's shoulder.
"He'll be alright," Eleanora whispered, understanding the depth of Gwen's concern. "Magnus is strong."
Gwen nodded, trying to mask the intensity of her worry. "I know, I just... I can't help but fear for him."
Meanwhile, Maeve paced back and forth, her frustration evident in every sharp movement. "This is ridiculous. We should have gone after him hours ago!"
Godwyn's voice was strained as he responded, "And risk altering the outcome the Gloam-Eyed Queen foresaw? We can't take that chance."
"To hell with prophecies!" Maeve snapped. "Our brother is out there alone, facing that monster!"
The demigods' attention was drawn to the excited cries of the girls. They turned to see Maureen, Amy, and Polyanna removing their bandages, their eyes fully restored just as Mary's had been earlier.
"We can see!" Maureen exclaimed, her voice trembling with joy.
Amy blinked rapidly, taking in the world around her. "Everything's so clear!"
Polyanna spun in a circle, her newly restored gaze drinking in every detail. "It's amazing!"
Miquella stepped closer, his eyes widening as he noticed something else. "Look... their scars, the blemishes from the rot. They're fading!"
The girls examined themselves, their excitement growing as they realized Miquella was right. The physical marks of their curse were disappearing before their eyes.
Suddenly, Millicent gasped. "The whispers... they're gone. I can't feel the rot anymore!"
The other girls nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of relief and wonder.
However, as the initial joy of the moment passed, a somber realization settled over Miquella. His expression grew pained as he connected the dots.
"It's because... because Malenia is gone," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "The God of Rot has lost its vessel. It... it no longer has any interest in them."
The happiness of the moment was tempered by this bittersweet understanding. While the girls were free from their curse, the cost of that freedom weighed heavily on all of them. The absence of Malenia, the sacrifice that had led to this moment, cast a shadow over their joy.
The tension among the demigods had reached a boiling point once again. Maeve's patience had finally run out, her voice sharp with frustration.
"That's it. We've waited long enough. I'm going after him," she declared, her wings unfurling.
Miquella, who had been steadfast in his belief that they should wait, now felt doubt creeping in. "Perhaps... perhaps you're right. It's been too long. Magnus could be in trouble."
Godwyn stepped forward, his face etched with concern. "If we're going, we go together. We can't risk losing anyone else."
Just as they were preparing to take flight, a familiar sound caught their attention. The beating of wings, powerful and steady, echoed across the water.
Their eyes were drawn to the misty expanse where Malenia's casket had drifted. There, floating above the water's surface, was Magnus. The demigods froze, watching intently as their brother approached the floating raft.
Magnus stood over Malenia's form, his fingers gently tracing the scars that marked her skin. For a moment, he was still, his face unreadable from a distance. Then, suddenly, his composure crumbled.
Tears began to stream down his face as he bent over Malenia's body. Though they couldn't hear his words, they could see the raw emotion in every movement.
"Malenia," Magnus sobbed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, come back to me. I can't... I can't do this without you."
His hands clenched the sides of the casket, knuckles white with the force of his grip. "We were supposed to have more time. We were going to heal the Lands Between together. Please... please don't leave me like this."
Magnus's pleas grew more desperate, his voice cracking with emotion. "I love you. I've always loved you. Come back to me, my warrior, my heart. I need you. The girls need you. We all need you."
He pressed his forehead against her helm, tears falling onto the cold metal. "I'll give anything. Everything. Just please, be here with me again. Let me hear your voice once more. Malenia, please..."
On the shore, Maeve felt a sharp pain in her chest, a reflection of the agony tearing through her twin's heart. She staggered slightly, overwhelmed by the intensity of Magnus's grief.
The other demigods watched in stunned silence, the raw display of emotion from their usually composed brother leaving them at a loss for words.
As the demigods watched, a sudden, brilliant light enveloped Magnus, forcing them to shield their eyes. When the glare subsided, they saw an otherworldly scene unfolding before them. Feathers drifted gently through the air around Magnus, while a shimmering mist of blue and white swirled about him and Malenia's casket.
"Magnus!" Maeve called out, her voice tinged with worry. But there was no response.
Magnus remained perfectly still, kneeling over Malenia's body, seemingly oblivious to the world around him. The eerie stillness was unsettling.
Radahn stepped forward, his face set in concentration. "I'll bring them back," he said, calling upon his mastery over gravity. With a gesture, he began to pull Magnus and the casket towards the shore.
As they drew closer, the demigods could see that Magnus's eyes were closed, his form completely unresponsive. He remained frozen in his position over Malenia, as if time had stopped for him alone.
Maeve's eyes widened in recognition. "It's happening again," she breathed, her voice a mix of awe and concern. "It's just like before, when he fell into that coma-like state and became an angel."
The other demigods exchanged worried glances, the implications of Maeve's words sinking in.
Miquella stepped closer, his small hand reaching out to touch Magnus's arm. "What's happening to him this time?" he wondered aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.
As they gathered around their unresponsive brother, questions raced through their minds. What was Magnus experiencing in this state? What changes would he undergo this time? And perhaps most pressingly, would he return to them unchanged, or would this transformation alter him in ways they couldn't predict?
Magnus found himself once again in the familiar ethereal void, standing on the bridge of light that stretched out before him. The vastness of space surrounded him, stars twinkling in the distance and entire worlds floating by. At the far end of the bridge, the Rune of Life pulsed with a gentle, inviting light.
He could feel its call, a silent beckoning that drew him forward. With cautious steps, Magnus approached the rune, his heart racing with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. As he reached out and touched its glowing surface, a surge of energy flowed through him.
Instinctively, Magnus reached deeper, his consciousness seeming to merge with the rune itself. Suddenly, the world around him began to blur and shift.
In an instant, the cosmic expanse vanished, replaced by a sun-drenched field of tall grass swaying gently in a warm breeze. The abrupt transition left Magnus momentarily disoriented, his eyes squinting against the bright sunlight that now surrounded him.
As his vision adjusted, he became aware of a figure approaching through the golden stalks. The silhouette was blurred at first, gradually coming into focus as it drew nearer. Magnus's heart quickened, a mix of hope and trepidation filling him as he tried to make out the identity of this mysterious presence.
He stood rooted to the spot, the gentle rustling of the grass and the warmth of the sun on his skin feeling impossibly real for what he knew must be a vision. As the figure drew closer, Magnus held his breath, unsure of what – or who – he was about to encounter in this strange, dreamlike realm.
As Magnus's vision cleared, he became aware of three distant figures standing in the field. One, a man of similar height to the figure before him, stirred a sense of familiarity and comfort in Magnus. The other two were taller and more imposing, their silhouettes adorned with what appeared to be horns.
His attention, however, was drawn to the woman standing directly in front of him. Though her features were still indistinct, there was an undeniable aura of familiarity about her. He felt a deep, instinctive connection to this presence.
The woman reached out, her hands gently grasping his. The touch was filled with affection and love, conveying emotions that words could not express. As she released her grip, Magnus found himself holding a golden, glowing orb.
The moment he felt it, he knew what it was – a soul. Not just any soul, but one he recognized on the deepest level of his being. It was Malenia's.
As the vision began to fade, the realization struck Magnus like a bolt of lightning. The woman who had gifted him this precious essence was not just any figure from his past. In the last fleeting moments before the light engulfed him, he stared at her, his voice barely a whisper.
"Mother..."
The word hung in the air as the sunlit field dissolved around him. In an instant, Magnus found himself back in the ethereal void, standing once more on the bridge of light before the Rune of Life. In his hands, he cradled the glowing orb that contained Malenia's soul.
The enormity of what had just transpired washed over him. He had been granted a gift of immeasurable value, not just by any cosmic force, but by Queen Marika herself. The implications of this encounter, the power now literally in his hands, and the fleeting connection with his long-absent mother left Magnus reeling with emotion and possibility.
As Magnus began to depart the ethereal realm, a sudden, jarring sensation stopped him in his tracks. He turned back, his eyes widening in shock as he saw cracks spreading across the surface of the Rune of Life.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. To bring Malenia back from death would require a sacrifice of immense proportions. The power needed to perform such a feat, without being a god himself, would shatter the Rune of Life.
Magnus's mind raced as he grasped the full implications of this choice. If he were to use this power to resurrect Malenia, he would forever lose the chance to attain the full might of the Rune of Life. And not just for himself - this decision would likely affect Maeve's connection to the Rune of Death as well, given the intrinsic link between the two runes.
He stood there, frozen in place, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. On one hand, he held the soul of Malenia, his love, his partner, the mother of their adopted daughters. The chance to bring her back, to undo the devastating loss that had shaken their family to its core, was right there within his grasp.
On the other hand, the power of the intact Rune of Life and Death represented their best hope against the looming threat of the Frenzied Flame. It was potentially the key to saving not just their family, but the entire Lands Between.
Magnus closed his eyes, his heart torn. The logical part of him argued for the greater good, for maintaining the power they might need to face future threats. But his heart cried out for Malenia, for the chance to see her again, to heal the wound that her loss had left in all of them.
He opened his eyes, looking from the cracking Rune to the soul in his hands. The choice before him was impossible, both options carrying profound consequences. Whatever he decided would irrevocably alter the course of their future.
Maeve suddenly collapsed to her knees, a cry of pain escaping her lips. Godwyn was at her side in an instant, his face etched with concern.
"Maeve! What's wrong?" he asked urgently.
Through gritted teeth, Maeve managed to respond, "It's... it's my Rune. I can feel it. Something's broken."
The Gloam-Eyed Queen stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "It is your twin's doing."
Before anyone could question further, movement from Magnus caught their attention. The demigods rushed to his side, a flurry of questions pouring from their lips.
"Magnus! Are you alright?" "Did you defeat the Monarch?" "Where did you go just now?"
But Magnus remained silent, his eyes focused on something they couldn't see. It was then that they noticed the golden orb cradled in his hands.
Miquella leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "What is that, brother?"
Magnus's voice was hoarse as he finally spoke. "It's... it's Malenia's soul."
A collective gasp rippled through the group. Before anyone could react further, Magnus gently placed the glowing orb into Malenia's still form. His hands began to glow with the power of the Rune of Life as he poured his energy into her.
Radahn's eyes widened in realization. "Is he...? Can he actually...?"
Godwyn's voice was filled with a mix of hope and disbelief. "By the Erdtree, he's trying to bring her back!"
The girls pressed closer, their faces a mix of fear and desperate hope. Maeve, still reeling from the pain in her Rune, watched with bated breath.
As Magnus channeled more power into Malenia, the air around them began to crackle with energy. The Gloam-Eyed Queen took a step back, her voice filled with awe. "This is what I spoke of, the lifebringer."
Suddenly, a brilliant light erupted from Magnus and Malenia, growing in intensity until it engulfed the entire area. The demigods shielded their eyes, the blinding radiance overwhelming their senses. In that moment of pure, white-hot brilliance, they all held their breath, hoping against hope for a miracle.
As the blinding light faded, an expectant hush fell over the group. All eyes were fixed on Malenia's still form, waiting, hoping for any sign of life. Seconds stretched into agonizing minutes, yet nothing changed.
Magnus, his energy spent, leaned back, his shoulders slumping in defeat. The weight of failure crashed down upon him, and he turned to Miquella, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm so sorry, Miquella. I thought... I hoped..." His words trailed off, choked by emotion.
Miquella, his own eyes brimming with tears, wrapped his arms around Magnus. "You tried, brother. That's all any of us could ask."
Messmer stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Magnus's shoulder, his usual stoicism softened by compassion.
Godwyn watched the scene unfold, his heart heavy. His gaze drifted to Maeve, seeing the pain etched on her face as she witnessed her twin's anguish. It was a pain he shared, the helplessness of being unable to ease Magnus's suffering cutting deep.
Beside him, Lansseax wept silently, her ancient eyes filled with sorrow. The dragon, who had once shared a deep bond with Magnus, seemed to feel his pain as keenly as if it were her own.
The somber silence was suddenly broken by Messmer's voice, tinged with surprise and curiosity. "Wait... look."
All eyes turned back to Malenia's body. Messmer pointed, his voice growing more urgent. "Her scars... they're fading."
Indeed, before their astonished gazes, the marks of rot that had marred Malenia's skin for so long began to disappear. The process was gradual but unmistakable, spreading across her body just as it had for the girls earlier.
Radahn leaned in closer, his voice filled with wonder. "It's true. The rot... it's vanishing completely."
A spark of hope ignited in Magnus's eyes as he watched the transformation. The others held their breath, torn between daring to hope and fearing another disappointment.
As the last traces of rot faded from Malenia's form, leaving her skin unblemished for the first time in living memory, they all waited, hearts pounding, for any further sign of the miracle they so desperately sought.
Silence fell over the group as Malenia slowly began to stir. Her movements were sluggish, as if she were waking from a deep slumber. She gradually pushed herself up, wincing slightly.
As she looked around, she found herself the center of attention, everyone's eyes fixed on her in disbelief. Miquella was the first to move, rushing forward to embrace his twin. Malenia let out a soft grunt of pain at the contact.
"What... what's wrong?" she asked, her voice hoarse and confused. "Why is everyone looking at me like that?"
The girls, tears streaming down their faces, quickly recounted what had happened. Malenia listened, her brow furrowed as she tried to process the information.
"I... I see," she murmured. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "When did the rest of you get your eyes back?"
The girls excitedly began to explain, but Magnus suddenly held up a hand, silencing them. A look of dawning realization spread across his face.
"Malenia," he said slowly, his voice trembling slightly, "how can you tell they got their eyes back?"
Malenia's response was simple, matter-of-fact. "I can see it, of.. course….."
For a moment, no one moved. Then, as if in slow motion, Malenia's hands reached up to her helm. With trembling fingers, she slowly removed it.
Gasps echoed around the group as Malenia's face was fully revealed. Where once there had been only scarred flesh, ravaged by rot, now there were two perfect, golden eyes. They blinked in the light, adjusting to the world around them.
Miquella's voice broke the stunned silence, barely above a whisper. "Sister... your eyes..."
Malenia's hands flew to her face, her fingers gently exploring the area around her eyes. As the reality of what had happened sank in, tears began to form in those newly restored eyes.
"I... I can see," she breathed, her voice filled with wonder and disbelief. "After all this time... I can see. Miquella! I can see!"
The group erupted into a mixture of joyous cries and shocked exclamations. The girls rushed forward, surrounding Malenia in a group hug. The other demigods exchanged looks of amazement, still trying to process the miracle they had just witnessed.
Malenia's tears flowed freely as she looked at everyone, her newly restored eyes taking in the faces of her loved ones. She embraced Miquella tightly, then gathered her girls close, holding them as if she never wanted to let go.
When they finally stepped back, her gaze fell on Magnus. Without a word, they reached for each other, coming together in a tight embrace. Malenia's voice was thick with emotion as she asked, "How... how is this possible?"
Maeve, her own voice tinged with wonder and confusion, added, "Was it the Rune? What happened, brother?"
Magnus took a deep breath, his arms still around Malenia. He began to explain, recounting his experience in the ethereal realm and the encounter with the Rune of Life. When he reached the part about Marika, he looked specifically at Godwyn and Messmer, knowing they shared a special connection to their mother.
"She was there," Magnus said softly, his eyes meeting theirs. "Mother... she gave me Malenia's soul."
Godwyn and Messmer exchanged a look of stunned amazement, a flicker of emotion passing between them at the mention of Marika.
The Gloam-Eyed Queen explained the repercussions of such a feat. She was neither disapproving or approving, merely reminding them.
Godwyn nodded, feeling the weight of such a price.
His expression softened as he knelt beside Malenia, embracing her. "And while I agree that the sacrifice is significant, sister," he said, his voice warm, "seeing you here, whole and alive... it's worth it. It's worth everything."
As Malenia slowly rose to her feet, her newly restored eyes searching the faces around her, she asked softly, "What happened after I... after I fell?"
The group exchanged glances, each taking turns to recount the events that followed her sacrifice. They spoke of Magnus's fury, how he drove back the Godskins with unprecedented power. They described the solemn funeral, how they had sent her off on the waters of Liurnia.
"Magnus wasn't there," Miquella added quietly, his eyes flickering to his brother. "He... he had gone after the Monarch."
All eyes turned to Magnus, a mixture of curiosity and concern in their gazes. Maeve stepped forward, her voice tense with anticipation. "Is it done, brother? Is the Monarch dead?"
Magnus nodded solemnly, his golden eyes reflecting the weight of his actions. "Yes. The Monarch is no more, along with any Godskins in the area. They won't threaten us again."
A collective sigh of relief passed through the group, the news of their enemy's defeat settling over them.
After a moment of contemplative silence, Messmer spoke up, his voice measured and practical. "We should consider our next move. Our plan to journey to the Haligtree still stands. We shouldn't delay much longer."
Godwyn nodded in agreement, but his expression was thoughtful. "You're right, Messmer. But perhaps we can afford one more night. We've lost many, and now miraculously regained one of our own." His gaze softened as it fell on Malenia. "Let's give our people time to mourn the fallen, and to celebrate those who live. We can set out for the Haligtree at first light."
Malenia stepped forward, her golden eyes taking in the sight of her daughters with newfound wonder. A smile played across her lips as she gazed at them, marveling at the details she had missed for so long.
Her gaze then shifted to Miquella, her twin. She was struck by how unchanged he appeared, still bearing the form of a child, just as he had the day she lost her sight. It was a stark reminder of the time that had passed, frozen for him but now restored to her vision.
Her contemplation was interrupted by the approach of Elaine and the other Cleanrot. Elaine's voice was filled with emotion as she spoke, "My lady, words cannot express our joy at your return."
The other Cleanrots nodded in agreement, their usually stoic demeanors softened by genuine happiness.
Malenia's voice was warm as she responded, "Thank you, all of you. Your loyalty and service mean more than you know."
Miquella's voice cut through the moment, tinged with curiosity and hope. "Sister, can you... can you still feel the rot?"
Malenia paused, her brow furrowing as she focused inward. After a moment, her eyes widened in astonishment. "No," she breathed, "I can't feel it at all."
She looked down at her prosthetic limbs, a mix of emotions playing across her face. "The limbs I lost haven't been restored, but the rest of me... it's as if the rot was never there. All I can feel now is the unalloyed gold, and..." her voice softened, filled with wonder, "...and this new life within me."
Godwyn stepped forward, his voice gentle but authoritative. "We should return to Stormcaller Village. There's much to prepare for our journey ahead."
As the group began to move, following Godwyn's lead, Malenia's eyes sought out Magnus. He had been unusually quiet, standing slightly apart from the others. Their eyes met, a wordless exchange passing between them. She studied his features, and was taken back by the handsomeness she saw. It made her smile to finally lay eyes on the man she fell in love with.
Magnus moved to her side, taking her hand in his. His voice was soft, meant only for her ears. "Together?"
Malenia's smile was radiant as she squeezed his hand, her response equally quiet but filled with certainty. "Always."
Deep within the bowels of the Frenzied Flame capital of Leyndell, a chamber of horrors stood silent save for the echoing sounds of agonized howls. Suspended from the ceiling by chains that pulsed with sickly yellow light hung a massive figure, once mighty but now reduced to a shadow of his former self.
Before the chained prisoner stood a figure shrouded in tattered robes, flames licking at the edges of his garments. The torturer's face was hidden, but his voice carried the weight of fanatical devotion and cruel intent.
"One hundred years," the torturer mused, his words cutting through the prisoner's pained gasps. "One hundred years you've resisted the gift of our lord's flame."
He reached out, pressing a hand against the captive's forehead. The touch seared, eliciting a fresh scream that reverberated through the chamber.
"Such strength," the torturer continued, his voice a chilling whisper. "Such... stubbornness. The last remnant of a bygone era, clinging to obsolete notions of order and grace."
He pulled his hand away, leaving a smoking handprint on the prisoner's skin. The captive's labored breathing filled the chamber as the torturer began to pace.
"But no more," he declared, his tone sharpening. "My lord and god has decided your fate."
The torturer stopped, turning back to face his prisoner. Flames danced in his empty eye sockets as he spoke again, each word dripping with malevolent purpose.
"You shall go forth. Find the children of Marika - your child - and end them."
The prisoner's head snapped up at these words, a flicker of defiance shining through the pain. But the torturer was not finished.
"Resist if you will," he hissed, pressing both hands against the captive's temples. "But know this - you will obey."
As he spoke these final words, his voice rose to a fevered pitch. "Upon your name as Godfrey, the First Elden Lord, you will carry out our lord's will!"
A torrent of Frenzied Flame erupted from the torturer's hands, engulfing Godfrey's head. The chamber filled with an agonized roar as the purifying touch of madness finally, after a century of resistance, claimed the mind of the once-great warrior.
The chains holding Godfrey began to crack and shatter, unable to contain the surge of frenzied power. As the First Elden Lord fell to his knees, his eyes blazing with yellow flame, the torturer's laughter echoed through the chamber - a chilling herald of the doom now set in motion for the children of Marika.
"MAY CHAOS TAKE THE WORLD!"
Chapter End Notes
I bet you did not see that ending coming...