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.

13. Chapter 97-99

Chapter 97: PreparationsSummary:

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Chapter Text

The first light of dawn crept over the Haligtree, illuminating the scars of battle and the ongoing efforts to repair and secure the sacred tree. Despite the exhaustion etched on many faces, the work continued tirelessly through the night.

In the war room, the demigods gathered, their faces a mixture of weariness and determination. Godwyn stood at the head of the table, his golden armor gleaming even in the dim light.

"The final count has come in," Godwyn began, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. "Surprisingly, our losses were not as severe as we feared. No more than 300 souls, though most of those were civilians."

A collective sigh of relief passed through the room, tinged with sorrow for those lost.

Maeve stepped forward, her dark wings folded tightly against her back. "While that news is better than expected, we can no longer remain here at the Haligtree," she stated firmly. "The landmass of Leyndell draws ever closer, and these constant raids by the Frenzied Flame put us at too great a risk. We cannot chance losing the unalloyed gold, nor can we properly prepare it here."

Miquella nodded, his child-like face creased with worry. "I agree. As much as it pains me to leave our home, the safety of our people and our mission must come first."

Magnus placed a comforting hand on Miquella's shoulder. "You're right, both of you. We need a more secure location to implement our plan with the unalloyed gold."

Godwyn surveyed the room, noting the nods of agreement from the others. "Very well. We'll reconvene later today to discuss our next steps. The patrols should be back by then, and everyone could use some rest. We'll need clear heads to plan our next move."

As the meeting adjourned, the demigods filed out, each lost in their own thoughts. The decision to leave the Haligtree was not an easy one, but they all understood its necessity.

Malenia lingered for a moment, her gaze sweeping across the war room. "To think we must abandon our sanctuary," she murmured, her voice tinged with a mix of sadness and resolve.

Magnus moved to her side, intertwining his fingers with hers. "It's not an abandonment, my love. It's a strategic retreat. We'll return one day, stronger than ever."

As they left the room together, the sunlight began to filter through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. The new day brought with it the promise of difficult decisions and uncertain paths, but also the hope of eventual victory against the encroaching chaos of the Frenzied Flame.

—

The five sisters sat in a quiet corner of the Haligtree's outer courtyard, tending to their wounds and cleaning their equipment. The morning sun cast a gentle light over them, a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous night.

Mary broke the silence, her voice filled with pride. "Millicent, I overheard our parents speaking of how proud they were of your battle against Shabiri."

Millicent looked up from polishing her Holy Shamshir, a small smile on her face. "Thank you, Mary. It was a difficult fight."

Mary continued, her tone taking on a haughty edge. "Of course, those Haligtree guards stood no chance against such a foe. It took one of divine blood like yourself to vanquish him."

Maureen paused in her task of helping clean Amy's wound, her brow furrowing. "Mary, what's gotten into you lately? Why are you suddenly acting like we're so high and mighty?"

Mary straightened, her wings rustling. "Because we are, Maureen. We're the daughters of Malenia, Blade of Miquella. We've been remade as archangels by our father. We're not just any beings; we're divine."

Amy spoke up, her voice soft but firm. "That doesn't make the mortals lesser beings, Mary. They fought just as bravely as we did."

"Of course it does," Mary scoffed. "Our power, our lineage sets us apart. We're superior in every way."

Millicent set down her weapon, her face troubled. "Mary, that's not right. Our parents never taught us to think that way. Remember how Father always stressed the importance of humility?"

Mary waved her hand dismissively. "Father is kind, but perhaps too kind. We need to embrace our true nature, our superiority."

Maureen stood up, her voice rising. "Listen to yourself, Mary! This isn't you. Since when did you start sounding like... like..."

"Like Aunt Maeve?" Mary finished, her chin lifting defiantly. "Perhaps Aunt Maeve had the right idea all along. We are demigods, after all."

Millicent joined in, her tone sharp. "Aunt Maeve has changed, Mary. She's not the same person she once was. And neither should you be. This attitude... it's not becoming of an angel."

Mary's eyes flashed. "An angel? We're more than just angels. We're the children of gods!"

As the argument escalated, Polyanna remained uncharacteristically quiet, her eyes darting between her sisters. The usually boisterous sister seemed lost in thought, the events of the previous night weighing heavily on her mind.

Amy noticed Polyanna's silence and turned to her. "Poly? What do you think about all this?"

Polyanna startled slightly, as if pulled from deep contemplation. "I... I don't know. After last night, after what I did to those men... Maybe Mary has a point. Maybe we are different."

The other sisters fell silent, staring at Polyanna in surprise. Mary's face broke into a triumphant smile, while Millicent, Maureen, and Amy exchanged worried glances.

Maureen shook her head. "This isn't right. We need to talk to our parents about this. This kind of thinking... it's dangerous."

Mary laughed, a sound tinged with newfound arrogance. "Dangerous? For whom? The lesser beings who can't hope to match our power?"

The sisters' argument continued to escalate, their voices rising with each exchange.

Mary stood tall, her wings spread wide. "Don't you see? We're not just our mother's daughters anymore. We've been blessed with Father's gifts as well."

Millicent shook her head vigorously. "Mary, you're not making sense. We've always had our abilities."

"But now they're different," Mary insisted. "We're different. Father was once a god, and now-"

"Mary!" Maureen gasped, cutting her off. "How could you say that? You know Father hates being reminded of that time. He was manipulated, controlled by the Greater Will!"

Amy nodded in agreement. "It's not something to be proud of, Mary. It caused him so much pain."

Mary waved her hand dismissively. "That's in the past. What matters is that he's remade us as his last archangels. We've inherited his divine power along with Mother's."

She turned to each of her sisters in turn, her voice taking on a passionate tone. "Just look at us! Maureen, your intelligence rivals that of Uncle Miquella himself. Amy, your quiet strength and unwavering resolve are unmatched. Millicent, you single-handedly banished Shabiri!"

Her gaze finally fell on Polyanna. "And you, Poly. Your speed, your ferocity... The way you dealt with those cowards who dared harm Amy. It was breathtaking in its brutality. You showed them the true power of a demigod!"

At Mary's words, Polyanna's eyes widened. Without warning, she bolted from the room, leaving her sisters in stunned silence.

Millicent called after her, "Poly? Polyanna, wait!"

But Polyanna was already gone. The remaining sisters exchanged confused glances before Mary broke the silence.

"What's gotten into her?" Mary asked, genuinely perplexed.

Maureen's eyes narrowed. "Maybe she's realized how ridiculous you sound right now, Mary."

"Ridiculous?" Mary scoffed. "I'm the only one seeing clearly here!"

Amy sighed deeply. "This isn't right. We shouldn't be fighting like this. We're sisters, we're supposed to stand united."

"United in our divinity," Mary insisted.

Millicent stood up, her face set in determination. "That's enough, Mary. We need to find Polyanna and make sure she's okay. And then we're going to have a long talk with our parents about this... this delusion you're under."

Mary's face flushed with anger. "Delusion? How dare you-"

But Millicent was already heading for the door, with Maureen and Amy close behind. Mary stood alone in the room, her fists clenched at her sides, wrestling with the conflicting emotions of anger, pride, and a small, nagging doubt that she refused to acknowledge.

—

Magnus and Malenia stood with Seroch and Elaine in one of the Haligtree's grand halls, discussing the aftermath of the battle. The two commanders delivered their reports with practiced efficiency.

"We've sustained injuries across our ranks," Seroch stated, his voice grave. "But thanks to the swift action of our healers, most are expected to make a full recovery."

Elaine nodded in agreement. "The Cleanrot Knights fared well, all things considered. Our training proved invaluable in the face of such chaos."

Malenia's brow furrowed slightly. "Elaine, how fares your sister Elowen? I haven't seen her since the battle."

"Elowen is in the infirmary, my lady," Elaine replied. "Nothing serious, just a gash across her ankle. She'll be back on her feet in no time."

Malenia nodded, relief evident in her expression. "Good. Now, show us to the defenses that need the most immediate attention. We must be prepared in case of another attack."

As Malenia and the commanders moved to leave, Magnus held back. "I'll join you shortly," he said, his senses picking up on something his wife and the others had missed.

Once they had gone, Magnus rounded the corner to find Polyanna standing there, her usually vibrant demeanor subdued. Her spectral wings were absent, adding to her uncharacteristically small appearance.

"Polyanna?" Magnus approached her gently. "What are you doing here?"

Polyanna looked up, her eyes searching. "Is... is Mother gone?"

Magnus nodded, concern etching his features. "Yes, she just left with Seroch and Elaine. What's wrong?"

No sooner had he confirmed Malenia's absence than Polyanna rushed into his arms, burying her face against his chest. Magnus wrapped his arms around her, surprised by the sudden display of vulnerability from the usually boisterous girl.

"Polyanna, talk to me. What's happened?"

She took a shuddering breath before speaking. "Last night, during the battle... I... I lost control, Father."

Magnus listened intently as Polyanna recounted the events of the previous night - how she had torn apart the deserters who had attacked Amy, her voice trembling as she described the brutality of her actions.

"I've killed before, we all have," she continued, her words coming faster now. "But this was different. I didn't just kill them, I... I tore them to pieces. And they were Haligtree men. Deserters, yes, but still..."

She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper. "A part of me... a part of me enjoyed watching them die."

Magnus began to speak, to offer comfort, but Polyanna interrupted him, the words spilling out as if she couldn't stop them.

"I know I'm the reckless one, the impulsive sister. But I don't want to lose control like that again. I'm scared of what I might do, of what I might become. I don't want the frenzied flame to make me worse like it did Millicent."

Magnus held her tighter, his heart aching for the pain and fear in her voice. "Polyanna, listen to me. The fact that you're worried about this shows that you haven't lost your humanity. It's normal to feel conflicted after battle, especially one as intense as last night's."

Polyanna looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. "But why did I enjoy it? Even for a moment?"

Magnus sighed, choosing his words carefully. "The heat of battle can bring out aspects of ourselves we don't fully understand. It doesn't make you a monster, Polyanna. It makes you someone who's grappling with the complexities of war and your own power."

A thought struck him. "Polyanna, why did you wait for your mother to leave before approaching me?"

Polyanna's gaze dropped, shame evident in her posture. "I... I didn't want Mother to be ashamed of me. Of my weakness, or... or my bloodthirstiness. She's always so composed, so in control. I didn't want her to see me like this."

Magnus gently lifted her chin, meeting her eyes. "Your mother has faced her own struggles with control, Polyanna. The Scarlet Rot, her battles in Caelid... she would understand more than you know."

He paused, making sure his next words sank in. "And Polyanna, this isn't weakness. Confronting your fears, questioning your actions - that takes incredible strength. I'm proud of you for having the courage to talk about this."

Polyanna's eyes welled with tears, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Thank you, Father. I... I needed to hear that."

Magnus smiled back, his voice warm. "We'll work through this together, Polyanna. You, your sisters, your mother and I. You're not alone in this struggle."

Polyanna took a deep breath, her posture straightening slightly as she prepared to share more. "Father, there's something else... It's about Mary."

Magnus's brow furrowed with concern. "What about Mary?"

"She's... changed," Polyanna began, her words coming hesitantly at first, then rushing out in a torrent. "This morning, she started saying all these strange things. She was acting like we're better than everyone else because we're demigods."

Magnus listened intently as Polyanna recounted the morning's events.

"She said things like, 'We're the daughters of Malenia, we've been remade as archangels by our father. We're not just any beings; we're divine.'" Polyanna's voice took on a troubled tone as she continued. "When Amy said that doesn't make mortals lesser beings, Mary actually agreed that it did. She said we're 'superior in every way.'"

Magnus's expression remained neutral, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. Polyanna pressed on, her words coming faster now.

"Millicent tried to remind her about how you always taught us the importance of humility, but Mary just dismissed it. She said you were 'too kind' and that we need to 'embrace our true nature, our superiority.'"

Polyanna paused, clearly hesitant about the next part. Magnus nodded encouragingly, prompting her to continue.

"Then... then she started talking about Aunt Maeve. She said maybe Aunt Maeve 'had the right idea all along' because 'we are demigods, after all.'" Polyanna's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "And Father... she mentioned… about you once being a god."

At this, Magnus's calm expression faltered for a moment, a flash of old pain crossing his features. Polyanna quickly added, "We all told her that was wrong, that you hated being reminded of that time because you were manipulated by the Greater Will. But she just waved it off, saying it was in the past and what matters is that you've remade us as your last archangels."

Magnus remained silent for a long moment, his face a mask of careful neutrality. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but firm. "Thank you for telling me this, Polyanna. I appreciate your honesty, and I'm glad you brought this to my attention."

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'll speak with Mary about this when I have the chance. This... this is something that needs to be addressed."

Polyanna nodded, relief evident in her posture. Magnus then added, "Polyanna, I think you should speak with your mother about what happened last night."

Surprise flickered across Polyanna's face. "But Father, I-"

Magnus shook his head gently. "Trust me, Polyanna. Your mother would understand more than you realize. She's faced her own struggles with control, with the power that runs in your blood. Don't bear this burden alone when she could offer you insights I cannot."

Polyanna bit her lip, considering his words. Finally, she nodded. "Alright, Father. I'll... I'll try to talk to her."

Magnus smiled warmly. "That's my girl. Remember, Polyanna, you're not alone in this. We're here for you, all of us."

As Polyanna turned to leave, her spectral wings flickering into existence as she prepared to seek out Malenia, Magnus's smile faded. The revelation about Mary's behavior weighed heavily on his mind.

—-

Radahn's imposing figure moved through the halls of the Haligtree, his keen ears picking up whispers of his mother's remarkable display of power from the previous night. He found Rennala in deep conversation with a group of Sellian sorcerers, their faces alight with admiration as they spoke.

As he approached, he caught the tail end of their conversation.

"...and then Lord Radahn simply plucked the Astel from the sky as if it were a mere insect!" one sorcerer exclaimed, gesturing wildly.

Rennala's eyes sparkled with pride. "Yes, my son has always had a flair for the dramatic. Tell me, what other tales do you have of his exploits?"

Radahn cleared his throat, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "Mother, if I may interrupt?"

The sorcerers bowed deeply as Rennala turned to face her son, a warm smile gracing her features. "Radahn, my dear. What perfect timing. These fine scholars were just regaling me with stories of your heroics."

"I'm sure they were, Mother," Radahn said, a touch of amusement in his voice. "Might I have a word with you in private?"

Rennala nodded, excusing herself from the sorcerers before following Radahn to a quieter corner of the room. Once alone, Radahn's demeanor softened, concern evident in his golden eyes.

"Mother, are you well?" he asked, his massive hand gently resting on her shoulder. "I heard tales of your battle last night. You haven't exerted yourself like that in centuries."

Rennala patted his hand reassuringly. "I'm quite alright, my son. It felt... invigorating, truth be told. To unleash my full power once more."

Radahn nodded, relief washing over his features. "I'm glad to hear it. I... I couldn't bear the thought of losing you again, Mother."

A shadow of old pain flickered across Rennala's face before she smiled up at her son. "You needn't worry, Radahn. I'm stronger than ever, thanks in no small part to the love and support of you and your siblings."

Radahn straightened, remembering his purpose. "Speaking of my siblings, they've requested your presence at the meeting later tonight. To discuss our next moves, I imagine."

"How kind of them," Rennala replied, her eyes twinkling. "Do pass along my thanks for the invitation."

Radahn hesitated for a moment, an uncharacteristic nervousness creeping into his posture. "There's... one more thing, Mother. Someone I'd like you to meet, if you're amenable."

Rennala's eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Oh? And who might this be, my dear?"

Radahn took a deep breath, steeling himself. "It's... well, it's Siluria, Mother. The Crucible Knight. We've been... close, for some time now, and I thought it was time for a proper introduction."

Rennala's eyes widened in surprise, then softened with understanding. "Ah, I see. The legendary warrior who's captured my son's heart. I'd be delighted to meet her, Radahn."

Radahn's tension visibly eased, a rare, boyish grin spreading across his face. "Thank you, Mother. I think you'll like her. She's quite remarkable."

As they prepared to seek out Siluria, Rennala couldn't help but marvel at this softer side of her usually stoic son. The aftermath of battle had brought not just destruction, but new beginnings as well.

As Siluria stood, her impressive strength on full display as she single-handedly held up the massive gate, she felt a sudden change. The weight she had been bearing became almost negligible, and a soft purple glow enveloped the structure. Turning her head, she saw Radahn approaching, his hand outstretched as he manipulated the gravity around the gate.

"My lord," Siluria acknowledged, her voice carrying a warmth that belied their formal address. "Your timing is impeccable, as always."

Radahn's lips quirked into a small smile. "I thought you might appreciate a little assistance, though I doubt you needed it."

As the guards quickly finished securing the gate, Siluria noticed the elegant figure standing beside Radahn. Her eyes widened slightly in recognition.

Radahn cleared his throat, an uncharacteristic hint of nervousness in his voice. "Siluria, I'd like you to meet my mother, Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon."

Siluria immediately stood at attention, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty, it is an honor."

Rennala's eyes twinkled with amusement and warmth. "The honor is mine, Lady Siluria. I've heard much about your prowess in battle and your unwavering loyalty to the Haligtree."

A moment of silence passed as Rennala's gaze moved between her son and Siluria, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Siluria. I look forward to getting to know the woman who has clearly captured my son's heart."

Siluria's usually stoic demeanor softened, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I... I'm honored by your kind words."

Radahn, looking both relieved and pleased, placed a gentle hand on Siluria's armored shoulder. "I thought it was time you two met properly. Given recent events, it seemed... important."

Rennala nodded, her expression understanding. "Indeed. These trying times often bring clarity to what truly matters." She turned to Siluria, her voice warm. "I do hope you'll join us for dinner soon. I'd love to hear more about your experiences, and perhaps some tales of my son that he's too modest to share himself."

Siluria glanced at Radahn, a rare smile gracing her features. "It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty. I have quite a few stories that I'm sure you'd find... illuminating."

—

In the grand dining hall of the Haligtree, Messmer and Rellana stood together, having just completed their sweeps of the area. Messmer's eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face.

"Looking for Melina again?" Rellana asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Messmer nodded, his expression pensive. "I just want to make sure she's alright after last night's chaos."

Rellana placed a gentle hand on his arm. "You worry too much, my love. She's already forgiven you for your past. You don't need to keep proving yourself."

Messmer remained quiet, his silence speaking volumes about the guilt he still carried. Rellana was about to speak again when she noticed a familiar figure approaching. She tapped Messmer's shoulder, drawing his attention.

"Messmer, Rellana!" Commander Gaius called out, his weathered face breaking into a warm smile as he approached his old friends. "There you are."

"Gaius," Messmer greeted, clasping the commander's arm in a warrior's greeting. "Good to see you in one piece."

Gaius chuckled, "Takes more than a few frenzied madmen to put me down. That battle last night, though... now that was something, wasn't it?"

Rellana nodded, her eyes glinting with the memory of combat. "Indeed it was. Reminded me of our days in the Land of Shadow."

"Ah, those were the times," Gaius said, his voice taking on a nostalgic tone. "Remember that massive red bear I fought? Thought it had me for sure, but I managed to outsmart the beast in the end."

Messmer's lips quirked into a rare smile. "Or the time I faced those three dancing lions by myself. Now that was a true test of skill."

"And let's not forget," Gaius added, turning to Rellana, "when you decimated that entire village with your moon sorceries. I'd never seen destruction on that scale before."

Rellana's expression flickered for a moment, a mix of pride and something darker passing across her face. "Yes, well... sometimes extreme measures were necessary in those days."

Messmer squeezed her hand gently, offering silent support. He knew the weight of their past actions still weighed heavily on both of them at times.

Gaius, sensing the shift in mood, quickly changed the subject. "So, what do you two make of our current situation? Think we'll be staying in the Haligtree much longer?"

Messmer shook his head. "I doubt it. We plan to soon be relocating. It's too dangerous to remain here with Leyndell approaching."

"Agreed," Rellana added. "Plus, we need a more secure location to work with the unalloyed gold. The Haligtree has proven vulnerable."

Gaius nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. Well, wherever we end up, I'm glad to have you two by my side. Just like old times, eh?"

The three old friends shared a soft laugh.

—

The catacombs of the Haligtree were eerily quiet, save for the soft clink of metal as Miquella worked. His small hands moved with precision over the unalloyed gold, the repetitive motions offering a much-needed distraction from the troubling thoughts that plagued his mind.

He opened his robe slightly, staring at the needle he embedded in himself. After their return from the Haligtree, Miquella forged a needle, equal in power to the one he made for Malenia and Millicent. He and Magnus imbued it with all the properties they now had to reverse the effects of curses or afflictions.

Both brothers had hoped the needle would end Miquella's curse of nascency. Miquella didn't care about growing, not anymore. He cared about all of his creations, their goal to stop the influence of the frenzied flame. He may be the weakest of the demigods, but they all knew they won't be able to achieve any of this without his brilliant mind.

The soft sound of footsteps echoed through the chamber, and Miquella sensed a familiar presence. Without looking up, he spoke, his voice carrying a weariness that belied his youthful appearance. "Maeve. What brings you down here?"

Maeve stepped into the dim light, her dark wings folded tightly against her back. "I came to check on you," she replied, her usual sharp tone softened with concern. "You seemed... more affected by the news of the traitors than you let on earlier."

Miquella's hands stilled for a moment before he attempted to wave off her concern. "It's nothing. I'm fine. Just needed some time to focus on the work at hand."

To his surprise, Maeve moved closer, her hand coming to rest gently on his back. The unexpected gesture of comfort caused Miquella to look up, meeting Maeve's crimson gaze.

For a moment, they remained like that, an unspoken understanding passing between them. The spark that had flickered between them before suddenly reignited, causing both to feel a mix of attraction and unease.

Miquella was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I... thank you for your concern, Maeve. It means more than you know."

Maeve quickly withdrew her hand, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Of course. We're... family, after all."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, the air thick with unspoken feelings and confusion.

Desperate to change the subject, Miquella gestured to the unalloyed gold. "I've been making some progress on refining the process. Would you like to see?"

Maeve nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "Yes, that would be... interesting. Tell me more about your work."

As Miquella launched into an explanation of his latest discoveries, both he and Maeve tried to ignore the lingering tension between them. The spark they had felt was undeniable, but the implications were complex and potentially troubling.

For now, they focused on the task at hand, the unalloyed gold serving as a buffer between them and the complicated emotions they weren't yet ready to confront. But both knew that sooner or later, they would have to address the growing connection between them.

Maeve held up a hand, interrupting Miquella's enthusiastic explanation. "Hold on, hold on. I have no idea what you're saying. You do realize Magnus is the nerdy twin, right? Not me."

Miquella chuckled, his earlier melancholy fading slightly. "My apologies. I sometimes forget not everyone shares my fascination with the intricacies of unalloyed gold."

"Clearly," Maeve said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "Maybe try explaining it in a way I'd understand?"

"Alright," Miquella mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "How about I describe it more like a battle plan or strategy?"

Maeve nodded, a smirk playing on her lips. "Now you're speaking my language."

Miquella took a deep breath and began, "So, imagine the unalloyed gold as our army, and the Outer Gods as the enemy forces. We're trying to position our troops—I mean, the gold—in key locations to create a barrier that the enemy can't penetrate. The Divine Towers are like... like..."

As Miquella fumbled for the right analogy, Maeve couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, stop. You're terrible at this."

Miquella's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm trying my best here."

Maeve smirked, saying she understood the concept. "The divine towers mixed with unalloyed gold are like fortress walls. They keep battering at them, climbing over, getting a few troops in, but not the whole force."

Miquella smiled, "yes that was much better explained."

"How is it possible that the Lord of the Haligtree knows nothing of war?" Maeve asked, her tone teasing but curious.

Miquella's expression turned sheepish. "Well, to be honest, Malenia usually handled that part of our duties when we ruled the Haligtree together. I was more focused on... other aspects."

"Like endless research and tinkering with magical metals?" Maeve quipped.

"Something like that," Miquella admitted with a small smile. "I suppose we all have our strengths."

Maeve nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Indeed we do. And right now, your strength is exactly what we need to face this threat."

As they continued their conversation, the earlier tension between them eased, replaced by a comfortable camaraderie. For a moment, they were able to forget the complications of their growing feelings, simply enjoying each other's company as they discussed the challenges that lay ahead.

—

Eleanora worked silently, her hands and armor stained crimson as she helped clear the bodies of the fallen. The grim task weighed heavily on her, a stark reminder of the violence that had torn through the Haligtree.

As she worked, she noticed a group of former Bloody Fingers joining the effort. Eleanora tensed, preferring to avoid interaction with her former colleagues. She kept her head down, focusing on the task at hand.

Suddenly, a disturbing sound caught her attention. Looking up, she saw some of the former Bloody Fingers licking the blood from their hands and armor. The sight sent a chill down her spine.

"What are you doing?" Eleanora demanded, her voice sharp with disgust and alarm. "Stop that immediately!"

One of them, a lanky man with wild eyes, grinned at her. "What's the matter, Eleanora? Don't tell me you've forgotten the taste."

"Yeah," another chimed in, his voice dripping with mockery. "You used to be Mohg's greatest Bloody Finger. We looked up to you, you know."

Eleanora's jaw clenched, her hands curling into fists. "That was a long time ago. I've left that life behind."

The first man laughed, a cruel sound. "Have you really? Come on, Eleanora. Don't you miss it? The thrill of the hunt, the warmth of fresh blood on your skin..."

As they spoke, Eleanora found her gaze drawn to her blood-stained hands. The crimson liquid seemed to pulse, bringing back a flood of memories she'd tried so hard to suppress.

"I..." Eleanora started, her voice faltering. She could feel the old urges stirring, a siren call she thought she'd silenced long ago.

"That's it," the second man encouraged, his voice low and enticing. "You can't deny what you are, Eleanora. What's the harm in one little taste?"

Eleanora's breathing quickened, her eyes fixed on the blood coating her hands. Magnus had helped her overcome these urges, had shown her a different path. But now, surrounded by death and the echoes of her past, she felt her resolve wavering. She could feel an overwhelming pressure, a voice in the back of her mind.

"No," she whispered, more to herself than to the others. "I'm not that person anymore. I won't go back."

But even as she spoke the words, Eleanora could feel the pull of her old life, the temptation of the blood calling to her. The battle against her inner demons, it seemed, was far from over.

The former Bloody Fingers continued their taunting, their voices growing more insistent and detailed. One of them, a scarred woman with a glint of madness in her eyes, leaned in close to Eleanora.

"Remember that village, Eleanora? The one Varre sent us to cleanse?" she whispered, her voice dripping with a perverse nostalgia.

Eleanora's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening as the memories she'd tried so hard to suppress came flooding back.

Another man, his face adorned with ritualistic tattoos, joined in. "Oh yes, that was a glorious night. You were magnificent, Eleanora. The way you danced through the streets, your poleblade singing as it tasted flesh..."

"Stop it," Eleanora whispered, but her protest lacked conviction as the vivid memories overwhelmed her. That damned outer
voice kept growing louder.

The scarred woman continued, her voice taking on a dreamlike quality. "The blood, Eleanora. Do you remember how it felt? Warm and sticky, coating your skin like a lover's caress. The way you laughed as you cut them down – men, women, children. It didn't matter to you then."

Eleanora's world seemed to blur, the present fading away as she was thrust back into that nightmare of a memory. She saw herself, younger and consumed by bloodlust, twirling through the village streets. Her poleblade flashed in the moonlight, each swing bringing death and spraying crimson across her form.

In her mind's eye, she watched herself cut down a fleeing man, his blood arcing through the air. The Eleanora of the past caught the spray in her mouth, laughing with wild abandon as she savored the metallic taste.

"Yes, my child," a voice whispered in her ear – the Formless Mother, ever-present in those dark days. "Revel in the blood. Let it nourish you, strengthen you."

The scene shifted, and Eleanora saw herself cornering a woman clutching a child. The past Eleanora's eyes gleamed with cruel delight as she raised her blade.

"No!" present Eleanora cried out, but she was powerless to stop the memory.

With a start, she snapped back to reality, gasping for breath. "That wretched god," she cursed, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and fear.

But even as she tried to center herself, Eleanora felt a familiar pounding in her head. A faint whisper, barely audible but unmistakable, began to call to her. The Formless Mother, reaching out across time and space, seeking to reclaim her lost servant.

Eleanora's gaze fell to her blood-stained hands once more. The crimson liquid seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, beckoning to her. She felt her tongue unconsciously run across her lips, the old craving rising within her.

"That's it," the tattooed man encouraged, noticing her reaction. "You feel it, don't you? The call of the blood. Why fight it, Eleanora? It's who you are."

The scarred woman nodded eagerly. "Magnus may have shown you another path, but he can't change your nature. Once a Bloody Finger, always a Bloody Finger."

Eleanora squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out their words and the temptation before her. "No," she muttered, her voice strained. "I'm not... I'm not that person anymore."

"Oh, but you are," another voice chimed in. "We all saw your true self that night. The way you reveled in the slaughter, how you drank their blood like fine wine. It's in your veins, Eleanora. You can't escape it."

Eleanora felt her resolve weakening, the whispers of the Formless Mother growing louder in her mind. The blood on her hands seemed to call to her, promising power, ecstasy, and release from the burden of conscience.

Just as she felt herself about to give in, a commanding voice cut through the haze of temptation.

"That's enough!" Gwen's authoritative tone rang out as she strode into view, her spectral wings flaring with righteous anger. "Leave her alone, now!"

The former Bloody Fingers hesitated, caught between their desire to continue tormenting Eleanora and their fear of the archangel's wrath.

Gwen's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Did I stutter? I said leave. Now. Before I decide the Haligtree no longer requires your services."

With reluctant murmurs and resentful glares, the group slowly dispersed, leaving Eleanora trembling in their wake.

Gwen approached cautiously, her voice softening as she addressed her fellow archangel. "Eleanora? Are you alright?"

Eleanora looked up, her eyes wild and unfocused. The battle within her raged on, the call of the blood warring with her desire for redemption. As Gwen reached out to steady her, Eleanora knew that her struggle was far from over. The shadows of her past, it seemed, were not so easily banished.

Eleanora's shoulders slumped as the weight of her confession bore down on her. She looked at Gwen, her eyes filled with a mixture of shame and self-loathing.

"Gwen, I... I was a monster," Eleanora began, her voice barely above a whisper. "What those Bloody Fingers said was true. I didn't just kill innocents; I reveled in it. I bathed in their blood and laughed while doing it."

Gwen listened silently, her expression a mask of concern and compassion. She had known of Eleanora's past as a Bloody Finger, but hearing the gruesome details firsthand was jarring.

Eleanora continued, her words coming faster now, as if desperate to purge herself of the memories. "There was this village... I cut down everyone. Men, women, children... it didn't matter. I drank their blood, Gwen. I enjoyed it. The Formless Mother whispered in my ear, and I answered her call with gleeful slaughter."

She paused, taking a shuddering breath before meeting Gwen's gaze. "I don't deserve to be an angel. I don't understand what Magnus ever saw in me. How could he look at someone like me and see anything worth saving?"

Gwen stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on Eleanora's shoulder. "Eleanora, listen to me. Magnus saw someone with great potential to be something more. And you've proven him right, time and time again, since you joined us. Even before you became an angel."

Eleanora shook her head, disbelief evident in her expression. "How can you say that? After everything I've done..."

"Because it's true," Gwen insisted, her voice firm but kind. "Think about the girls, Eleanora. They adore you, look up to you. You've become a role model, a protector. That's not the actions of a monster; that's the actions of someone who's fought hard to change, to be better."

A small smile tugged at Eleanora's lips as she thought of Malenia and Magnus's daughters. "They are quite fond of me, aren't they?"

Gwen nodded encouragingly. "Exactly. You need to remain strong, not just for yourself, but for them too. Your past doesn't define you, Eleanora. It's your choices now, every day, that show who you truly are."

Eleanora took a deep breath, feeling some of the weight lift from her shoulders. "Thank you, Gwen. I... I needed to hear that."

Gwen squeezed her shoulder gently before stepping back. Her expression turned serious as she asked, "Do you want me to deal with those Bloody Fingers? They had no right to torment you like that."

To Gwen's surprise, Eleanora let out a small laugh. "No, don't worry about it. They may be trouble, but... well, we need all the allies we can get these days, don't we?"

Gwen raised an eyebrow, a hint of admiration in her voice. "That's very pragmatic of you. Are you sure you're okay with them staying?"

Eleanora nodded, her resolve strengthening. "I am. Their words hurt, but they also reminded me of how far I've come. I'm not that person anymore, and I won't let them drag me back into the darkness."

As they stood there, surrounded by the aftermath of battle, Gwen marveled at Eleanora's strength. The path of redemption was never easy, but Eleanora walked it with a determination that was truly inspiring.

"Come on," Gwen said, gesturing towards the exit. "Let's finish up here and get you cleaned up. I think we could both use a break from all this grim work."

As they walked away together, Eleanora felt a renewed sense of purpose. The whispers of her past might never fully fade, but with friends like Gwen and the trust of Magnus and his family, she knew she had the strength to keep moving forward, one day at a time. Yet the whispers… they continued.

—

The war room buzzed with tension as the gathered leaders took their places around the large, ornate table. Godwyn stood at the head, his golden armor gleaming in the torchlight. He cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention.

"The patrols have returned with their reports," Godwyn began, his voice steady and authoritative. "The waters have been cleared, and the mountains as well. However, they found numerous bodies in the mountaintops - Frenzied forces slain by an unknown entity."

Murmurs rippled through the assembled group. Miquella stepped forward, his child-like face creased with concern.

"The Haligtree has suffered significant damage," he reported. "While we managed to repel this attack, if the Frenzied forces had committed more to burning the tree or arrived in greater numbers, they could have seized control in the ensuing chaos."

Malenia, standing tall and regal beside her twin, added, "We must prepare for the upcoming invasion from Leyndell. Time is of the essence."

Radahn turned to Gwen, his massive form dwarfing the archangel. "Gwen, what news of the landmass? How close is it now?"

Gwen straightened, her spectral wings shimmering as she spoke. "A massive storm swept through recently, my lord. It's slowed the landmass's progress considerably. We estimate at least five weeks before it reaches us."

A collective sigh of relief passed through the room, but Maeve's voice cut through the momentary calm.

"Five weeks is not as much time as it seems," she said, her red eyes scanning the room. "I stand by my earlier suggestion. We should leave the Haligtree, prepare for the invasion elsewhere, and begin work on the Divine Towers immediately."

Godwyn pondered this, his brow furrowed in thought. Before he could respond, Miquella spoke up, his voice tinged with worry.

"I'm not certain the unalloyed gold is fully prepared for all of the Divine Towers," he began, but Maeve interrupted him gently.

"Miquella," she said, a rare softness in her tone, "remember our talk earlier? About war strategies?" She then launched into the analogy Miquella had attempted before, causing a small smile to spread across his face despite the gravity of the situation.

As she finished explaining, Maeve turned to Magnus, then to Godwyn. "Brothers, Magnus and I have fought the Frenzied Flame longer than any of you - myself even more so. It doesn't simply attack; it toys with its prey, causes chaos, weakens its victims before committing to the final slaughter." Her voice grew somber. "It's exactly what it did when it attacked the Shaded Castle long ago... when Magnus fell."

A heavy silence fell over the room at the mention of that dark day. Lansseax, standing near Magnus, nodded gravely. "Maeve speaks true. I was there that day, as were she and Magnus. The rest of you had yet to be brought back. The Frenzied Flame's tactics are insidious and devastating."

Magnus stepped forward, placing a hand on Maeve's shoulder. "I support my sister's decision. We cannot underestimate this threat."

The room erupted into hushed conversations as everyone considered Maeve's words. Rennala leaned towards Radahn, whispering, "Your sister makes a compelling argument. The risk to the Haligtree may be too great."

Siluria and Devonia exchanged glances before Siluria spoke up. "If we do leave, where would we go? We need a defensible position that can accommodate our forces and civilians."

Loretta interjected, "The underground cities of Nokron or Nokstella could provide shelter, though reaching them might prove challenging."

Elaine shook her head. "Those cities are too far. We need somewhere closer, somewhere we can fortify quickly."

Seroch stroked his chin thoughtfully. "What about the Mountaintops of the Giants? It's inhospitable, yes, but that also makes it defensible."

Kristian nodded in agreement. "And it's closer to the Divine Towers. We could begin our work there more easily."

As the debate continued, Godwyn raised his hand for silence. "These are all valid points. We need to weigh our options carefully. The safety of our people must be our primary concern, but we cannot ignore the strategic advantages of our current position."

Rellana spoke up, her voice calm but firm. "We must also consider the morale of our forces and civilians. Abandoning the Haligtree, even temporarily, could be seen as a sign of weakness or defeat."

Gaius nodded in agreement. "True, but staying here and risking annihilation could be far worse for morale in the long run."

The room fell silent as Maeve spoke, her words cutting through the earlier discussions.

"The Mountaintops are too far from Leyndell," Maeve stated firmly. "And the harsh conditions would affect our forces more than the Frenzied Flame. We need somewhere closer, yet still defensible."

Radahn's deep voice rumbled as he offered, "What about my earlier suggestion of Caria Manor? It's closer, and we know its defenses well."

Godwyn nodded thoughtfully. "Caria Manor could indeed serve as a suitable fall-back location. It's defensible and familiar territory."

All eyes turned to Rennala, who straightened in her seat. "You have my full support and permission to use my ancestral home," she said, her voice carrying the weight of her authority as the Full Moon Queen.

"Thank you, Mother," Radahn said, inclining his head respectfully.

Maeve, who had been quiet for a moment, suddenly spoke up. "What if we were simply there when Leyndell arrives?"

Her words hung in the air, met with stunned silence and shocked expressions.

Godwyn leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "Elaborate, sister. What exactly do you mean?"

Maeve's red eyes gleamed as she explained, "Every time we've patrolled the landmass, we've seen nothing outside the walls. No preparation for defense or attack. Most of the Frenzied forces seem to be on the ground - hibernating, dead, or in some other state of inactivity."

She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing, "What if, when the landmasses reconnect, we're there, ready and waiting? We could step onto Leyndell soil the moment it arrives and lay siege to the city immediately."

The room erupted into a flurry of whispers and exclamations.

"That's... bold," Malenia said, a hint of admiration in her voice.

Miquella looked concerned. "It's risky. We'd be exposing ourselves directly to whatever forces they have."

Lansseax nodded in agreement with Maeve. "But it also gives us the element of surprise. They won't expect an immediate offensive."

Godwyn stroked his chin thoughtfully. "It's an audacious plan, to be sure. But it could work. We'd need to time it perfectly, though."

"And what of our civilians?" Loretta interjected. "We can't leave them undefended while we mount this assault."

Maeve turned to address her. "That's where Caria Manor comes in. We move our non-combatants there, protected by a portion of our forces. The rest of us prepare for the assault on Leyndell."

"It's not without risks," Gwen cautioned. "If we commit too heavily to the assault and fail, we leave ourselves vulnerable."

Magnus spoke up, his voice calm but resolute. "Every option before us carries risk. But Maeve's plan offers us a chance to seize the initiative. We've been reacting to the Frenzied Flame for too long. It's time we took the fight to them."

The room fell silent as everyone considered the implications of Maeve's bold strategy. The tension was palpable as they weighed the potential rewards against the considerable risks.

Finally, Godwyn spoke, his voice carrying the weight of command. "We need to discuss this further, plan out every detail. But I believe Maeve's suggestion has merit. It's time we stopped playing defense and took the fight to our enemy."

Godwyn turned to Maeve and smiled. "I am also suggesting we appoint a second in command of the overall forces." He gestured grandly towards Maeve. "You sister. I would ask you to be my right hand. It is as you say, you are the most experienced out of us all when it comes to combating the frenzied flame."

Maeve's usual composure faltered as she struggled to find words. "I... I don't know what to say, Godwyn," she stammered, her voice uncharacteristically uncertain.

Godwyn's expression softened, a small smile playing at his lips. "Say yes, sister. You might even be more qualified for this than I am."

Maeve shook her head, her crimson eyes darting around the room. "I'm not sure everyone would approve of that choice. Many of the men... they don't like me. Some even fear me." Her voice lowered, a hint of old pain creeping in. "Half of Magnus's Host used to be my people, before I fell and they joined him. Even since my return, they avoid me when I'm near."

Godwyn nodded, acknowledging her concerns. "That may be true, but those same men know that you're the most qualified to lead the fight against our enemy. Your experience is invaluable, Maeve."

The room fell into a tense silence as Maeve sat quietly, her brow furrowed in deep thought. The other leaders exchanged glances, some nodding in agreement with Godwyn's assessment, others looking uncertain.

Suddenly, a voice broke the silence - one that surprised everyone, especially Maeve.

"I think you should accept, Maeve," Lansseax said, her draconic eyes fixed on the dark-winged demigod.

All heads turned to Lansseax in shock. The ancient dragon, once Maeve's most bitter rival and only recently a tolerable acquaintance, was now voicing support for her leadership.

Maeve's eyes widened, genuine surprise evident on her face. "Lansseax? You of all people..."

Lansseax nodded, her voice steady and sincere. "Yes, me of all people. We've had our differences, Maeve, but I cannot deny your tactical acumen or your understanding of our enemy. The Frenzied Flame is a threat unlike any we've faced before. We need your expertise if we're to have any hope of victory."

The dragon's words seemed to have a profound effect on Maeve. She looked around the room, seeing nods of agreement from many of the other leaders. Even those who had seemed uncertain before now appeared to be considering the wisdom of Godwyn's choice.

Maeve took a deep breath, her usual confidence slowly returning to her features. She turned back to Godwyn, her decision made. "Very well, brother. If you truly believe this is best for our cause, then I accept. I'll serve as your second in command."

A collective sigh of relief swept through the room. Godwyn smiled, reaching out to clasp Maeve's shoulder. "Thank you, sister. Together, we'll lead our forces to victory against the Frenzied Flame."

As the meeting began to disperse, with leaders heading out to begin preparations for their bold new strategy, there was a sense of renewed hope and determination. The road ahead would be challenging, but with Godwyn and Maeve at the helm, united in purpose, they felt ready to face whatever trials lay ahead in their fight against the encroaching chaos.

Chapter 98: Bloody FingerNotes:

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Chapter Text

Magnus and Malenia stood on the docks, overseeing the loading of the unalloyed gold onto the ships. As Miquella walked away, having informed them of the imminent departure and tomorrow's plans, Magnus turned his attention to the bustling activity around them.

However, his gaze was soon drawn to a group not far from where they stood. The girls, his and Malenia's daughters, were speaking with some of the workers. Mary's voice carried over the din, her tone surprisingly authoritative and haughty.

"You there," Mary called out to one of the workers, her chin lifted high, "ensure those crates are secured properly. We can't risk any damage to the unalloyed gold during transit."

The worker nodded, looking slightly taken aback by her commanding tone. "Yes, my lady," he replied, hurrying to double-check the cargo.

Magnus watched as Mary continued to issue orders, her sisters trailing behind her with varying degrees of discomfort on their faces. Maureen and Millicent exchanged worried glances, while Amy looked down at her feet, clearly uncomfortable. Polyanna, usually the most outspoken, remained uncharacteristically quiet.

"And you," Mary addressed another worker, "fetch more rope. We need these containers lashed down tightly. This isn't some common cargo we're transporting."

Magnus frowned, remembering Polyanna's earlier words about Mary's changed behavior. Seeing it firsthand was unsettling, to say the least.

Malenia, noticing Magnus's intense focus, placed a hand on his arm. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern. "You seem troubled."

Magnus turned to his wife, his golden eyes clouded with worry. "It's Mary," he said softly. "Do you hear how she's speaking to the workers? That air of superiority..."

Malenia listened for a moment, her brow furrowing as she caught snippets of Mary's imperious tone. "I see what you mean. That doesn't sound like our Mary at all."

"Polyanna mentioned something earlier about Mary's behavior changing," Magnus confided. "I didn't want to believe it, but seeing it now..."

As they watched, Mary continued to direct the workers and her sisters, her demeanor more befitting a haughty noble than the compassionate angel they had raised.

Malenia squeezed Magnus's hand. "We should speak with her," she suggested. "Perhaps there's more to this than meets the eye."

Magnus nodded, his expression grave. "Agreed. But not here, not now. We'll find a moment once things have settled. I fear this might be a longer conversation than we anticipated."

As they turned back to their duties, both Magnus and Malenia couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over them.

Millicent, was the first to speak up. "Mary, we need to talk about how you've been acting. This isn't like you at all."

Maureen nodded in agreement, her intelligent eyes fixed on her eldest sister. "We're worried, Mary. Maybe we should speak to Father about this."

Mary's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and fear. "Absolutely not," she commanded, her voice sharp. "You will not breathe a word of this to Father."

Polyanna, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly found her voice. "Oh? And why not? Afraid you'll get demoted or something?"

Amy, usually the peacekeeper, surprised everyone by adding, "Or maybe you're scared you won't be Father's favorite anymore?"

Mary's face cycled through a range of emotions – shock at their defiance, hurt at their accusations, but also a flicker of pleasure at the idea of being considered their father's favorite. She quickly schooled her features, her mind working fast to regain control of the situation.

"Don't be ridiculous," Mary scoffed, her voice taking on a condescending tone. "Father has far too much on his plate right now. Have you forgotten? He's leaving in the morning with Uncle Miquella, and we only have five weeks until the invasion. We can't burden him with such... trivial matters."

The other girls exchanged glances, uncertainty creeping into their expressions.

Mary pressed her advantage, her voice softening slightly. "Think about it. Father is carrying the weight of our entire defense on his shoulders alongside the other demigods. Do you really want to distract him with something so insignificant?"

Millicent's resolve wavered. "I... I suppose you have a point. Father does have a lot to worry about."

Maureen bit her lip, conflicted. "But still, Mary, your behavior..."

"Is necessary," Mary interjected smoothly. "These are trying times. We need to present a united, strong front. The men need to see us as leaders, not just as Father's daughters."

Amy and Polyanna looked at each other, then back at Mary. They seemed less convinced, but the seed of doubt had been planted.

"Fine," Millicent said finally, though her tone was reluctant. "We won't tell Father. For now. But Mary, this conversation isn't over."

Mary nodded, a small smile of triumph playing at her lips. "Of course, sisters. Now, shall we focus on our duties? We have much to prepare before Father leaves."

As the girls continued on their way, the tension between them had eased slightly, but an undercurrent of unease remained.

—

The dining hall of the Haligtree was alive with the soft murmur of conversation as Radahn, Siluria, Messmer, Rellana, and Gaius gathered around one of the long tables. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on their faces as they discussed the recent developments.

Radahn turned to Messmer, his massive form dwarfing even the imposing fire knight. "Messmer, would you be willing to accompany me to Caria Manor in the morning? I could use your strategic mind as we assess the defenses."

Messmer nodded, a rare smile gracing his features. "I'd be glad to, Radahn. It's been some time since I've seen the manor."

Rellana's eyes lit up at this exchange. "Wonderful! I'm looking forward to returning to our ancestral home as well. It will be good to have you both there."

As the group fell into a comfortable silence, Gaius cleared his throat, his weathered face creased with concern. "What do you all make of Godwyn's decision to name Maeve as his second in command?"

The atmosphere around the table shifted, becoming more tense. Gaius continued, his voice low but firm. "I must say, I disagree with his choice. With all due respect to Lady Maeve, I believe it should have been either you Radahn or Messmer."

Radahn and Messmer exchanged a quick glance, surprise evident on their faces.

Gaius pressed on, gesturing to Radahn. "You led the Redmane armies, and you still command what remains. Not to mention your reputation as the mighty Starscourge." He then turned to Messmer. "And you, my friend, led our entire conquest in the Land of Shadow. Your army is currently the largest among us."

Siluria leaned forward, her voice calm but curious. "Do you feel overlooked by Godwyn's decision?"

Radahn was quiet for a moment, his golden eyes thoughtful. "I would be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind," he admitted. "But..."

Messmer picked up where Radahn trailed off. "But we both agree with and defend Godwyn's decision. Maeve has the most experience fighting against the Frenzied Flame. Her knowledge of our enemy is unparalleled."

Radahn nodded in agreement. "Exactly. While Messmer and I have led armies and won great victories, this enemy is unlike any we've faced before. Maeve's insight will be crucial."

Rellana looked between the two brothers, a mix of pride and admiration in her eyes. "Your humility does you credit, both of you. It's not easy to set aside personal ambition for the greater good."

Gaius sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. "I see your points, and I respect your perspectives. I just worry about how the men will react to Maeve's leadership. She's... not the most approachable of commanders."

Siluria spoke up, her voice firm. "The men will follow her because they must. And in time, they'll come to see the wisdom in Godwyn's choice. Maeve may not be loved, but she will be respected."

—

Maeve and Godwyn stood in the war room, having remained there after the meeting concluded. Maeve had insisted on discussing the invasion plans further, which Godwyn was more than willing to do. They pored over the detailed map of Leyndell spread before them.

Godwyn began tracing the outline of the city, his voice steady as he described the familiar terrain to his sister. "The land mass crack begins here, just under 300 yards from the steps leading to the Gates of Leyndell," he explained, pointing to the spot. "Normally, Leyndell Knights and Tree Sentinels would guard this area."

Maeve nodded, her eyes following his finger. "Yes, though we've seen no signs of them during our patrols."

Godwyn continued, "The crack then curves around to the left, cutting through these hills and running along the left side of the inner wall. It juts across this road here, where the cemetery is located." His hand swept over the map. "Most of the land before the Eastern Gate, both inside and outside, remains intact."

"And the city itself?" Maeve prompted, she was familiar with the external view from her aerial patrols.

"The fissure cuts through the far eastern wall," Godwyn explained, "somehow leaving the Azuria Hero's Grave untouched. Then it continues through the mountains, severing the bridge to the Grand Lift of Rold about halfway across."

Maeve leaned in, studying the map intently. "The lift is still accessible from our side, which has been crucial for reaching the Haligtree. But the state of Leyndell's interior remains unknown to us."

They exchanged a look, both aware of the challenges that lay ahead. Despite Maeve's familiarity with the external layout from her patrols, this detailed strategy session with Godwyn, who knew the city intimately, was vital now that she was second in command. Together, they began to formulate plans for the impending invasion, ready to face whatever the Frenzied Flame had done to transform Leyndell.

Godwyn turned to Maeve, a warm smile on his face. "I'm truly glad you accepted my offer, sister. Your experience will be invaluable."

Maeve's expression was a mix of pride and uncertainty. "I'm honored, Godwyn, but I can't help feeling... wary. What of Radahn and Messmer? They both have significant military experience."

Godwyn nodded thoughtfully. "I did consider Radahn," he admitted. "As for Messmer, while his conquest was impressive, I must confess I no longer know him as well as I once did, not since his exile long ago."

He paused, his gaze distant for a moment. "You know, I used to be wary of Magnus when he first returned to us. Yet he proved to be a great brother." Godwyn's eyes met Maeve's. "And then you returned, and I was even more wary, given your... unique personality."

Maeve snickered at this. "You mean because I can be a bitch?"

Godwyn couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, yes. But you've also proven to be a great sister, Maeve. I've seen how you're trying to put your darker nature to rest."

Maeve fell silent for a moment, touched by Godwyn's words. "Thank you," she said quietly, her usual sharp tone softened by genuine gratitude.

With a shared nod of understanding, they turned their attention back to the map, continuing to discuss their plans for the impending invasion. The weight of their responsibility was heavy, but together, they felt more prepared to face the challenges ahead.

—

A sharp knock at the door interrupted Seroch and Elaine's moment of intimacy. Elaine sighed softly, rising to answer it. As she opened the door, she found Gwen standing there, her spectral wings shimmering faintly in the dim light of the hallway.

"Gwen," Elaine greeted, her tone curious. "Is everything alright?"

Gwen nodded, her expression apologetic. "I'm sorry to disturb you both, but I need Seroch. Lord Magnus has called the Host together to discuss something urgent."

Elaine turned back to look at Seroch, who was already struggling to his feet. "Duty calls, it seems," she said, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.

Seroch fumbled with his prosthetic arm, trying to secure it properly. "Indeed it does. The Host must always be ready."

Elaine moved to help him, her nimble fingers making quick work of the fastenings. "There," she said, giving his arm a gentle pat. "Be safe out there."

Seroch leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "Always," he promised.

As Seroch and Gwen stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind them, Seroch turned to the archangel. "Where's Eleanora? Shouldn't she be here for this as well?"

Gwen's brow furrowed slightly. "I'm not sure. She wasn't in the hall like I thought when I checked. I hope everything's alright with her."

They made their way to the housing for the soldiers of the Host, the sound of muffled conversations and clanking armor growing louder as they approached. As they entered, a hush fell over the room. Various lieutenants, sergeants, and captains quickly approached, saluting their commander and the archangel.

"Commander Seroch, Lady Gwen," one of the captains greeted them. "What brings you here at this hour?"

Gwen stepped forward, her voice carrying across the room. "Lord Magnus has requested the leadership of the Host to gather in the Grand Courtyard. He has matters of importance to discuss."

Murmurs rippled through the assembled soldiers as Seroch began pointing out specific individuals. "You, you, and you," he said, indicating several officers. "Spread the word to those who need to be present."

As the selected soldiers hurried to carry out their orders, Gwen and Seroch turned to leave. However, a voice from the back of the room stopped them.

"Is it true then?" The speaker, a grizzled veteran with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward. "Lady Maeve's been made second in command of our entire force?"

Gwen recognized him immediately – one of Maeve's former soldiers, now part of Magnus's Host. She understood his concern all too well, having once been one of Maeve's dark angels herself before becoming Magnus's first Archangel.

"It is true," Gwen confirmed, her voice steady. "Lord Godwyn made the decision, with the support of Lord Magnus and the other demigods."

The soldier shook his head, doubt clear in his eyes. "With all due respect, my lady, but... is that wise? We all know Lady Maeve's... history."

Seroch stepped forward, his one eye narrowing. "Are you questioning the judgment of our lords, soldier?"

The man straightened, realizing the precariousness of his position. "No, sir. Of course not. It's just... some of us have concerns, given our past experiences."

Gwen raised a hand, silencing any further discussion. "Your concerns are noted," she said, her tone firm but not unkind. "But remember, Lady Maeve has proven herself a valuable ally in our fight against the Frenzied Flame. Her experience is unparalleled."

She paused, looking around the room to ensure she had everyone's attention. "Change is never easy, especially in times of war. But we must trust in our leaders' decisions. Unity is our strength against the chaos we face."

The soldiers nodded, some more reluctantly than others. Gwen could see the mix of emotions on their faces – respect, uncertainty, and a touch of fear. She knew integrating Maeve into the command structure would be a challenge, but it was a necessary one.

"Now," Seroch said, his commanding presence filling the room, "we have a meeting to attend. Those summoned, fall in line."

As they filed out of the barracks, heading towards the Grand Courtyard, Gwen couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The road ahead would be difficult, not just in facing their external enemies, but in maintaining unity within their own ranks. She hoped that whatever Magnus had to say would help allay some of these fears and bring them together as a cohesive force.

As Gwen and Seroch arrived at the grand courtyard, they were met with a scene of unrest. The vast space was filled with members of the Host, but Lord Magnus was nowhere to be seen.

Gwen's keen ears picked up snippets of conversation, most centered around Lady Maeve's recent appointment.

"Can you believe it? Lady Maeve, second in command?" one soldier whispered harshly.

Another, a scarred veteran, shook his head. "I served under her before. Her methods were... harsh, to say the least."

Gwen felt a twinge of unease, understanding their concerns all too well. Her mind drifted back to the days of Maeve's rule from the Twilight Fortress, the iron fist with which she commanded her forces. The memory of Huron, the cruel scientist, flashed through her mind - even he had not been spared Maeve's ruthlessness.

Her reminiscence was interrupted by a commotion near the center of the courtyard. Mary's voice, sharp and authoritative, cut through the murmurs.

"How dare you question Lady Maeve's appointment!" Mary was saying, her face flushed with anger as she addressed a group of soldiers. "Her harshness is necessary. Her superiority is undeniable. You should be grateful for her leadership!"

One of the soldiers, bolder than the rest, stepped forward. "But my lady, why would Lord Magnus allow this? After everything that happened-"

Mary's eyes flashed dangerously. "You dare question my father's decision?" She raised her hand, ready to strike, but Millicent caught her wrist.

"Mary, stop!" Millicent pleaded. "This isn't the way to handle this."

Mary yanked her arm free. "Stay out of this, Millicent. They need to learn respect!"

"Respect is earned, not demanded," Millicent shot back. "You're only making things worse!"

As the sisters' argument escalated, Gwen decided it was time to intervene. She strode forward, her wings flaring slightly to draw attention.

"That's enough," she said, her voice firm but calm.

Mary whirled on her. "Gwen, stay out of this. We can handle-"

"No," Gwen cut her off, her tone brooking no argument. "You may be the children of the demigods, but I am the first archangel and your commander. This behavior stops now."

The courtyard fell silent, all eyes on Gwen. She took a deep breath, addressing the gathered Host.

"I understand your concerns about Lady Maeve's appointment. Many of us, myself included, have history with her. But Lord Godwyn and Lord Magnus have made their decision, and we must trust in their judgment."

She paused, letting her words sink in. "Lady Maeve has changed, as have we all. Her experience against the Frenzied Flame is unparalleled. In these dire times, we need every advantage we can get."

Turning to Mary and Millicent, she added, "And we cannot afford division among ourselves. We must present a united front."

The tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of grudging acceptance. Gwen nodded, satisfied for the moment.

"Now," she said, "we will wait calmly for Lord Magnus's arrival. He called this meeting for a reason, and I'm sure he will address your concerns."

As the crowd settled, Gwen couldn't help but wonder what Magnus had planned. Whatever it was, she hoped it would help bridge the growing divides within their ranks. Unity, she knew, would be their greatest weapon in the battles to come.

Gwen took her place beside the girls, her presence bringing a semblance of order to their group. Maureen glanced around, a slight frown on her face.

"Gwen, where's Eleanora?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.

Gwen shook her head. "I couldn't find her. Perhaps she'll join us soon."

As they waited, Mary and Millicent continued their earlier argument in hushed whispers.

"You're undermining everything we stand for," Mary hissed.

Millicent retorted, "And you're acting like a tyrant. This isn't what father taught us."

Their bickering was suddenly interrupted by Polyanna, who snapped at them in a low, intense voice. "Both of you, shut up."

Surprised by their usually carefree sister's tone, Mary and Millicent fell silent.

Polyanna continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mary's right, we are better and superior. But we can't treat others like they're dirt. We can't... lose control." Her voice trailed off, a shadow passing over her face.

Amy, noticing the change in Polyanna's demeanor, leaned in. "Poly, what's wrong?"

Polyanna's eyes darted between her sisters. "I... I spoke to father about what I did. How I lost control during the battle." She didn't mention her conversation about Mary's behavior, but the memory of it weighed heavily on her.

Mary's expression softened, seeing the unusual sadness in her youngest sister. She reached out to comfort Polyanna. "Oh, Poly, I'm sorry. I didn't realize-"

But Maureen cut her off sharply. "Oh, so now you're going to start being the nice sister again? After everything you've said and done?"

Mary opened her mouth to respond, but Gwen's authoritative voice silenced them all.

"Quiet, all of you," she commanded, her eyes fixed on a point beyond the courtyard. "Lord Magnus is approaching."

The sisters immediately straightened, their personal conflicts momentarily forgotten as they watched their father draw near. The atmosphere in the courtyard shifted, a hush falling over the assembled Host as they awaited the words of their lord.

As Magnus drew closer, the sisters exchanged quick glances, each wondering what their father had called them all together to discuss.

Magnus strode to the front of the gathered Host, taking his place beside the archangels and Seroch. His eyes scanned the crowd, noticing the absence of Eleanora. Gwen caught his gaze, giving him a subtle look that conveyed her lack of knowledge about the missing archangel's whereabouts.

Turning his attention to his daughters, Magnus sensed the tension between them, causing him to sigh heavily. However, he quickly composed himself, putting on a warm smile as he addressed the assembled soldiers.

"My loyal Host," Magnus began, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "Thank you all for coming at such short notice. I've called you here to discuss some important matters."

He paused, making eye contact with various members of the crowd before continuing. "In the morning, I will be accompanying my brother Miquella to the Divine Towers. The archangels will be joining me on this mission."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, but Magnus pressed on. "During our absence, Commander Seroch will be the highest authority within the Host. However, you will all be following Lady Maeve's orders as we prepare for the invasion of Leyndell."

The moment Maeve's name left his lips, the courtyard erupted into a cacophony of whispers and heated discussions. Magnus furrowed his brow, surprised by the intensity of the reaction.

Finally, a soldier near the front spoke up, his voice filled with confusion and a hint of fear. "My lord, if I may... why are you asking us to follow Lady Maeve?"

Magnus tilted his head, perplexed by the question. "I don't understand. Lady Maeve has been appointed as second in command by Lord Godwyn. Is there a problem with this arrangement?"

The crowd's murmuring grew louder, more insistent. Another soldier, an older veteran, stepped forward. "Begging your pardon, my lord, but many of us have... concerns about Lady Maeve's leadership style."

Seroch leaned in close to Magnus, whispering urgently, "My lord, there have been discussions among the men about Lady Maeve's past actions and her reputation for harsh rule."

Magnus's eyes widened slightly as he realized the depth of the situation. He was about to address these concerns when another voice rang out from the crowd.

"And what about what your daughter said, my lord?" The speaker was one of the soldiers Mary had confronted earlier. "Lady Mary spoke of Lady Maeve's superiority and the necessity of her harshness. She even tried to strike us for questioning the decision!"

Magnus turned sharply to face Mary, who visibly paled under her father's intense gaze. The courtyard erupted into chaos, with soldiers voicing their concerns and grievances all at once.

"We can't serve under someone so cruel!"

"What if she turns on us like before?"

"How can we trust her after everything that happened?"

"And now the young ladies are acting just like her!"

Magnus stood silently for a moment, his face impassive as he listened to the flood of arguments and fears. The cacophony of voices filled the air, each soldier trying to make their concerns heard over the others.

"My lord, please reconsider!"

"We've followed you faithfully, but this..."

"What about Lord Radahn or Lord Messmer? Surely they're better suited?"

As the noise reached a fever pitch, Magnus raised his hand, calling for silence. The courtyard gradually fell quiet, all eyes fixed on their lord, waiting to hear how he would address this unexpected outburst of dissent and fear.

Magnus turned slowly, his gaze sweeping over his daughters. Mary's face was a mask of visible upset and disappointment, while her sisters seemed to shrink back, fear in their eyes that they might be implicated in this mess. Gwen caught his eye, nodding slightly to confirm Seroch's earlier words about the unrest.

Taking a deep breath, Magnus faced the crowd once more, his expression stoic. He listened for another full minute as the arguments and complaints washed over him. Though his face remained impassive, a flicker of displeasure passed through his eyes at the way they spoke of both his daughter and his sister.

Finally, Magnus raised his hand, the gesture slow and deliberate. "Silence," he called, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable authority.

The courtyard fell quiet, all eyes fixed on their lord. Magnus's demeanor shifted, his usual warmth and kindness radiating from him like a physical force. Slowly, he unfurled his majestic wings, their pristine white feathers catching the light. Many in the crowd gasped in awe, despite having seen them countless times before.

"My faithful Host," Magnus began, his voice gentle yet firm. "I understand the concerns some of you have expressed. For that, I owe you an apology – both for the past and for the present."

He paused, his eyes scanning the crowd, making sure to make eye contact with as many soldiers as possible.

"I know my sister's past actions have left deep scars on many of you. But I assure you, Maeve has changed. You were all there the day I fought her, the day she returned to us. Do you think I would trust her, accept her back, if I didn't believe in her transformation with every fiber of my being?"

Murmurs of consideration rippled through the crowd.

Magnus continued, his voice taking on a pleading tone. "I ask you now to give her a chance. Allow her to prove herself to you in this new role. And if, after giving her that chance, you find her lacking, then you may come to me directly. I give you my word that I will address any valid concerns personally."

The tension in the air began to dissipate as the soldiers nodded, many of them visibly relaxing.

"Thank you, my lord," one soldier called out. "We trust in your judgment."

"Aye, if you vouch for her, we'll give her a fair chance," another added.

As the crowd began to disperse, their fears largely assuaged, Magnus turned to Seroch and the archangels. The kind, gentle expression he had worn for the Host vanished, replaced by one of barely contained anger.

"Seroch," he said, his voice low and tight with suppressed emotion, "see to any lingering unease among the men, then get some rest. You'll need it for the days ahead."

Seroch bowed deeply. "At once, my lord."

Magnus then addressed Gwen and his daughters. "Find Eleanora. Her absence is... concerning."

As they turned to leave, Magnus's voice rang out once more, cold and sharp. "Not you. Mary. Stay."

Mary froze, her shoulders tensing visibly. She turned slowly to face her father, her earlier bravado completely evaporated. Magnus's eyes, usually so warm and kind, now bore into her with an intensity that made her want to shrink away.

The other sisters exchanged worried glances as they left, Millicent casting a sympathetic look back at Mary before hurrying after the others.

As the courtyard emptied, leaving just Magnus and Mary standing there, the air seemed to grow heavy with unspoken tension. Mary swallowed hard, steeling herself for whatever her father was about to say, the weight of her recent actions pressing down on her like a physical force.

Mary approached her father, her steps hesitant and unsure. Magnus stood there, silent and imposing, his wings folded tightly against his back. The silence stretched on, becoming almost unbearable until Mary finally mustered the courage to speak.

"Father," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "what did you wish to speak about?"

Magnus's eyes, usually so full of warmth, were now cold and distant. "Polyanna told me about your recent actions, Mary."

Mary's face contorted with a mix of anger and betrayal. "Polyanna? She had no right to-"

"Cease," Magnus cut her off, his voice sharp. Mary immediately fell silent, her eyes widening at her father's tone.

Magnus's gaze bore into her. "Did you truly attempt to strike our own men, Mary?"

Mary's shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. "I... yes, Father. I did," she admitted reluctantly.

Magnus sighed heavily, disappointment evident in every line of his face. "You've been spending too much time with Maeve, it seems. Some of her old self is rubbing off on you."

Mary's head snapped up, a spark of defiance in her eyes. "But Father, isn't it true? Aren't we superior? We're demigods, angels!"

Magnus turned slightly, his anger fading, replaced by a calm that was somehow more unsettling. When he spoke, his voice was gentle, but his words cut deep.

"Mary, my daughter, listen carefully," he began. "Yes, we are indeed superior in power and ability. That much is undeniable. But our superiority does not give us the right to make others feel lesser."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "Our strength, our divinity, it comes with a responsibility. We should use our gifts to lift others up, not to push them down."

Mary felt her newly adopted persona begin to crumble under her father's wise words. The disappointment she saw in his eyes hurt more than any anger could have.

Magnus continued, his voice soft but firm. "True strength, true superiority, lies not in dominating others, but in helping them reach their full potential. We are meant to be guardians, protectors, not tyrants. Why do you think Maeve regrets her past so much?"

Mary's eyes began to water as the full weight of her actions settled on her. "I... I understand, Father. I'm sorry. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing."

Magnus's expression softened slightly. "The path to darkness is often paved with good intentions, Mary. It's easy to let power go to our heads, to believe we know best. But we must always remember our duty to those we protect."

As her father's words washed over her, Mary felt her recent bravado and arrogance melting away. In its place, a sense of shame and regret began to take root.

"What can I do to make this right?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain.

Magnus placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Start by remembering who you truly are, Mary. Not just a demigod or an angel, but a compassionate soul. Apologize to those you've wronged, and show them through your actions that you've learned from this mistake."

Mary nodded, feeling both chastised and comforted by her father's words. As she looked up at him, she saw not just disappointment, but also hope and love in his eyes.

"I will do better, father. I promise," she said, her voice filled with determination.

Magnus nodded, a small smile finally gracing his features. "I know you will, my daughter. Now go, reflect on what we've discussed. We have challenging times ahead, and we'll need the true Mary - kind, strong, and wise - to face them."

As Mary turned to leave, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Though the path to redemption would be difficult, her father's wisdom had shown her the way. She was determined to become the leader her father believed she could be, one who lifted others up rather than pushing them down.

Magnus's voice stopped her once more. "Mary, do you remember the day I fought your aunt?"

Mary paused, her mind casting back to that fateful day. It felt like a lifetime ago now. She and her sisters were still adjusting to their new reality, still unsure of their place in this family. Magnus wasn't yet "father" to them, and Malenia had not yet fully embraced them as her daughters.

The memory unfolded vividly in her mind: Aunt Maeve's sudden, violent rampage; the shocking sight of her fighting Malenia; and then Magnus's arrival, changing everything.

"I remember," Mary said softly, turning back to face her father.

Magnus's eyes were distant, lost in the painful memory. "Maeve allowed herself to be killed that day, to ensure the vision from the feather came to pass. But I didn't know that then. I fought her because I believed the darkness had consumed her, that she was truly lost to us."

He paused, his gaze refocusing on Mary. "I didn't learn the truth until after. And that's the point I want you to understand, Mary. The actions we take, the divisions we create, they can have consequences far beyond what we intend or imagine."

Magnus stepped closer, his voice low and intense. "You need to be careful not to cause division among our family, or between your sisters. Such rifts, even when created with good intentions, can lead to unexpected fights, unexpected wars... unexpected shatterings."

Mary tensed at her father's words, a chill running down her spine. The idea that she could ever fight her sisters to the death seemed impossible, absurd even. But as she looked into her father's eyes, she began to understand the deeper meaning behind his warning. She only did Millicent when under the influence of the rot. She wasn't even really Mary, just a puppet.

"I... I would never fight my sisters like that," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Magnus nodded solemnly. "I never thought I would fight Maeve either. And I'm certain that the demigods who fought in the Shattering, tearing apart the very fabric of the Lands Between, once believed they could never raise arms against each other."

The weight of history, of potential futures, settled heavily on Mary's shoulders. She realized with startling clarity how easily small actions, words spoken in anger or pride, could snowball into catastrophic events.

"I promise, father," Mary said, her voice filled with newfound determination. "I will not let that happen. I'll work to bring us together, not drive us apart."

Magnus nodded, a small smile of approval on his face. "That's all I ask, Mary. Remember, our strength lies not just in our individual power, but in our unity. Protect that unity as fiercely as you would protect any of us."

—

Eleanora tossed and turned in her chambers, her sleep anything but peaceful. Sweat beaded on her brow as she fought against the nightmarish visions plaguing her mind. The whispers of the Formless Mother, once thought silenced, now echoed in the recesses of her consciousness.

In her dream, Eleanora found herself standing in the midst of Mohgwyn Palace, surrounded by rivers of blood that flowed endlessly. The crimson liquid lapped at her feet, its warmth seeping into her very being. There was another her there.

A crowd of figures, their faces obscured and distorted, surrounded her. Their voices rose in a cacophony of praise.

"Champion of the Formless Mother!" they cried. "Drink deep of her blessing!"

Dream-Eleanora smiled, a cruel twist of her lips that bore no resemblance to her waking self. She knelt by the lake of blood, cupping her hands and bringing the liquid to her lips. As she drank, a wave of ecstasy washed over her.

Rising, her eyes gleaming with malevolent joy, she turned to the crowd. Without warning, she lashed out, her blade singing through the air as it cleaved through two of her worshippers. Their blood sprayed, adding to the rivers around them.

The real Eleanora, watching in horror, tried to cry out, to stop herself. But her dream-self paid no heed.

The remaining crowd didn't flee or fight back. Instead, their cries of adoration only grew louder.

"Yes! More! Show us the glory of blood!" they begged.

Dream-Eleanora obliged, her movements a graceful dance of death as she cut through the crowd. With each life taken, each spray of blood, her pleasure grew. She reveled in the violence, her laughter mixing with the screams of her victims.

"Stop!" the real Eleanora cried out, her voice seeming small and ineffectual in the face of such carnage. "This isn't me! I'm not this monster anymore!"

At her words, the dream-Eleanora paused. Slowly, she turned to face her real self, her form drenched in blood from head to toe. A wicked smile played across her lips as she began to walk towards the real Eleanora.

"Oh, but this is you," dream-Eleanora purred, her voice a dark echo of Eleanora's own. "This is who you truly are. Who you're meant to be."

With each step, the blood-soaked figure drew closer. The real Eleanora tried to back away, but found herself rooted to the spot, unable to escape her nightmarish doppelganger.

"You can't run from your nature," dream-Eleanora continued, now mere inches away. "The blood calls to you. The Formless Mother calls to you. Why deny yourself such exquisite pleasure?"

She reached out a blood-covered hand, moving to caress Eleanora's cheek. The real Eleanora could only watch in horror, trapped in this nightmare of her own making, as her darkest self drew ever closer.

The dream Eleanora's blood-covered palm pressed against the real Eleanora's cheek, the warm, sticky sensation all too vivid. The scent of iron filled Eleanora's nostrils, bringing back memories she had long tried to suppress.

"Remember the joy," the blood-soaked doppelganger whispered, her voice a seductive echo. "The power, the ecstasy of it all."

Eleanora tried to resist, her voice weak as she murmured, "No... I'm not that person anymore."

But the whispers of the Formless Mother grew louder, more insistent, working their way into the cracks of her resolve. The dream Eleanora grasped her face with both hands, forcing Eleanora to meet her gaze.

"Stop denying who you are," the blood-stained figure purred, licking her crimson-stained lips. "Embrace it."

Before Eleanora could protest further, her doppelganger leaned in, pressing their lips together in a passionate kiss. The taste of blood flooded Eleanora's senses, and with it, a rush of memories and sensations she had long buried.

In that moment, Eleanora's resistance crumbled. She found herself kissing back with equal fervor, her hands reaching out to caress her blood-covered twin. Their embrace tightened as Eleanora gave in to the dark desires she had fought so hard to overcome.

As they kissed, the whispers of the Formless Mother grew louder, more insistent, filling Eleanora's mind with promises of power and pleasure. The boundaries between dream and reality, between past and present, blurred as Eleanora lost herself in the nightmarish fantasy.

Eleanora's descent into her nightmarish fantasy deepened as she continued to embrace her blood-soaked doppelganger. Her mind fractured further, the whispers of the Formless Mother growing to a deafening roar. She found herself begging for more, her tongue eagerly lapping at the blood that covered her dream self.

"More... please, I need more," Eleanora pleaded, her voice a mixture of desperation and ecstasy.

Her dream self obliged, laughing maniacally as she allowed Eleanora to indulge in the blood that coated her form. The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted their macabre union.

Varre appeared, his mask splattered with fresh blood. "Welcome home, Eleanora," he said, his voice filled with dark satisfaction. "Come, both of you. She awaits."

Without hesitation, Eleanora and her blood-soaked twin followed Varre up the winding stairs of Mohgwyn Palace. As they ascended, Eleanora's mind swam with a intoxicating mix of desire and dread.

At the top, they entered a grand chamber. To the side, Eleanora glimpsed the lifeless form of Mohg, Lord of Blood. She couldn't tell if this was the real Mohg or another dream construct, but in her blood-addled state, she found she didn't care.

Her attention was drawn to a pulsing red glow at the center of the chamber. A voice, both terrifying and alluring, spoke from within the light.

"My child... you've returned to me."

Instinctively, Eleanora fell to her knees, overcome by the presence of the Formless Mother. From the red glow emerged a figure - a woman of unearthly beauty, bare skinned, her form drenched in blood.

The woman approached Eleanora, gently grasping her chin and tilting her face upward. "Welcome home, my lost child," she said, her voice filled with dark warmth.

Eleanora trembled, caught between fear and an overwhelming desire to please this entity. "Mother... I'm home," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

As the Formless Mother's touch seeped into her skin, Eleanora felt the last vestiges of her resistance crumbling away. The nightmare had become her reality, and in this moment, she embraced it fully.

In Eleanora's chambers, the Bloody Fingers were gathered around her sleeping form, their eyes gleaming with dark anticipation. They had carefully prepared the ritual, drawing intricate symbols in blood around her bed.

"It's working," one of them whispered, watching as Eleanora's body twitched and her lips moved in her sleep.

Another Bloody Finger, a woman with long, matted hair, leaned in close. "Look at her face. She's reliving it all. The glory, the power..."

"The Formless Mother will reclaim her champion," a third added, his voice filled with reverence.

In the nightmare realm, Eleanora found herself deeper in the embrace of her blood-soaked doppelganger. The Formless Mother's presence grew stronger, more alluring.

"My child," the deity's voice echoed, seductive and powerful. "Why do you resist what you truly are?"

Eleanora struggled weakly. "I... I'm not that person anymore."

Her doppelganger laughed, the sound rich and intoxicating. "Oh, but you are. Feel the blood on your skin. Taste it on your lips. This is who you were meant to be."

The Formless Mother materialized before them, her form a vision of terrible beauty. Blood cascaded over her curves, and her eyes burned with an otherworldly light.

"Come to me, Eleanora," she beckoned, holding out her arms. "Embrace your true nature."

Eleanora felt herself drawn forward, unable to resist the call. As she approached, the Formless Mother enveloped her in an embrace that sent waves of ecstasy through her body.

"Yes, my champion," the deity purred. "Let the blood fill you. Let it consume you."

Eleanora's resistance crumbled as she gave in to the intoxicating sensation. She found herself reveling in the Mother's touch, in the blood that coated them both.

"More," Eleanora begged, her voice thick with desire. "Please, Mother, I need more."

The Formless Mother smiled, a terrifying yet beautiful sight. "Of course, my child. All the blood you desire, all the power you crave, it's yours for the taking."

As Eleanora lost herself in the bloodsoaked fantasy, indulging in acts of violence and pleasure, a small part of her mind screamed in protest. But that voice grew fainter with each passing moment, drowned out by the seductive whispers of the Formless Mother and the dark joy she found in embracing her old self.

In the real world, the Bloody Fingers watched with growing excitement as Eleanora's sleeping form writhed and moaned, her lips moving as if speaking to unseen entities.

"It's almost complete," one of them said. "Soon, she'll be ours again."

But their dark ritual was suddenly interrupted as Millicent burst into the room. Her eyes widened in shock at the scene before her.

"What in the name of the Erdtree is going on here?" she demanded, her hand instinctively moving to her weapon.

The Bloody Fingers turned as one, their expressions morphing from surprise to malice. Without warning, they attacked, unleashing a torrent of blood magic that nearly tore the room apart.

Millicent's scream of pain and surprise pierced the air as she fought against the unexpected onslaught.

In Eleanora's nightmare realm, the sound of the commotion filtered through, causing her to pause in confusion. The Formless Mother, sensing her distraction, grasped Eleanora's face, forcing her attention back.

"Stay with me, my child," the deity crooned. "You belong here, with us."

For a moment, Eleanora gave in once more, finding joy in the seductive embrace of the Mother and her blood-soaked twin. The temptation of power and pleasure overwhelmed her senses.

But then, Millicent's scream cut through the haze of the dream, sharp and real. Something inside Eleanora snapped, and clarity flooded her mind.

"No!" Eleanora shouted, trying to break free. "This isn't real! Let me go!"

The dream figures surrounded her, their forms melting into waves of blood that crashed over her. As the crimson tide engulfed her, the Formless Mother's laughter echoed all around.

"You can never escape me, Eleanora," the deity's voice boomed. "You are mine, now and always."

But from within the blood-stained puddle, a bright light began to shine. It was so intense that beams of pure white shot out of the crimson waves engulfing Eleanora. Suddenly, Eleanora burst forth, her spectral wings unfurling in a brilliant display.

"No!" Eleanora proclaimed, her voice ringing with newfound strength. "I am no longer that monster. I am Eleanora, Archangel of the Lord Magnus, Host!"

With those words, she soared upward, breaking free from the nightmare's grasp. As she flew higher, the dream world began to crumble around her.

In the real world, Eleanora's eyes snapped open, blazing with holy light. She sat up with a gasp, her body covered in a cold sweat. The scene that greeted her was one of chaos. Millicent was locked in combat with the Bloody Fingers, blood magic and holy energy clashing violently. The room was in shambles, furniture overturned and walls scorched.

Eleanora rose from her bed, her form radiating with newfound power. Her spectral wings materialized, their glow reminiscent of the divine grace Magnus had bestowed upon her. But to the Bloody Fingers, this light held no comfort - only the promise of divine retribution.

In a blur of motion too fast for mortal eyes to follow, Eleanora darted across the room. Her hand closed around the hilt of her twinblade, the weapon singing as it was drawn. Simultaneously, she conjured a fireball, hurling it at the Bloody Fingers threatening Millicent.

"Get away from her!" Eleanora roared, her voice carrying the authority of an archangel.

Spinning back towards the center of the room, Eleanora twirled her twinblade with deadly precision. She engaged all seven Bloody Fingers at once, her movements a perfect fusion of angelic grace and warrior's skill.

"You dare play such tricks on me?" she snarled, parrying a blow and countering with a strike that sent one attacker reeling. "You thought to drag me back into darkness?"

Step by step, Eleanora pushed the Bloody Fingers back, away from Millicent and towards the balcony. Her twinblade was a blur of motion, deflecting blood magic and slicing through their defenses.

As the group found themselves crowded at the balcony's edge, Eleanora saw her opportunity. She raised her twinblade high, channeling her holy energy into the weapon.

A beam of pure, holy light erupted from the twinblade, striking the Bloody Fingers with tremendous force. The blast sent them flying off the balcony, their screams fading as they plummeted into the courtyard below.

Eleanora stood at the balcony's edge, her eyes fixed on the Bloody Fingers struggling to their feet in the courtyard below. The shouts of Gwen and Millicent's sisters echoed behind her as they rushed to Millicent's aid, their voices filled with concern and confusion.

Ignoring the commotion, Eleanora leapt from the balcony, her wings slowing her descent as she landed gracefully before the battered Bloody Fingers. Fear etched itself across their faces as they beheld the archangel, her form still radiating with holy light.

A cruel smile twisted Eleanora's lips as she addressed her would-be corruptors. "Well, well, well," she purred, her voice dripping with mockery. "Look at you pathetic creatures. Did you really think your little parlor tricks could sway me? That I'd fall so easily back into the embrace of your wretched Mother?"

She circled them slowly, like a predator toying with its prey. "You're nothing but shadows of a past I've long since outgrown. Clinging desperately to the scraps of power the Formless Mother tosses your way. It's almost pitiful, really."

Her eyes narrowed as she continued her taunts. "Tell me, does it burn you to see what I've become? To know that I've ascended beyond your petty blood rituals and chaotic whims? I bet it just eats you up inside, doesn't it?"

The Bloody Fingers exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier bravado completely shattered.

Eleanora's voice dropped to a menacing whisper. "Let me show you true power. I'll dance in your blood, and we'll see who the Formless Mother truly favors."

As she spoke, faint thin red lines began to form in her eyes, a subtle but unmistakable sign of the blood's lingering influence.

Without warning, Eleanora launched herself at the group, her twinblade singing through the air. The courtyard erupted into chaos as she engaged them one by one, her movements a terrifying blend of grace and brutality.

As she struck down the first Bloody Finger, she laughed. "Is that all you've got? I've seen children with more fight in them!"

To the second, as her blade found its mark: "Ah, does it hurt? Good. Consider it a parting gift from your 'champion'."

The third fell to a vicious slash across the chest. "Oops, did I ruin your ritual robes? Such a shame."

Her taunts grew more vicious with each fallen foe. To the fourth: "You know, I almost pity you. Almost."

The fifth crumpled under a devastating blow. "Give my regards to the Formless Mother, won't you? Tell her I've found a better calling."

As the sixth Bloody Finger fell, Eleanora's laughter rang out, tinged with a manic edge. "This is true ecstasy! Not your false promises of power through submission! Butt slaughtering filthy pigs like you!"

Finally, only one remained. As Eleanora approached, she saw a smile flicker across his lips – a smile of twisted satisfaction. In that moment, he saw the red lines in her eyes, the lingering mark of the Formless Mother.

"She's still with you," he gasped, even as Eleanora's blade descended for the final blow. "You can never truly escape her." His head was taken from his shoulders.

As the last Bloody Finger fell, Eleanora stood amidst the carnage, her form splattered with blood. The courtyard fell silent, save for her heavy breathing. The red lines in her eyes pulsed faintly.

Eleanora stared at her blood-stained hands, the urge to taste the crimson liquid overwhelming her senses. She could almost feel the euphoric rush it once gave her, the power it promised. Closing her eyes, she took deep, steadying breaths, fighting against the temptation.

Just as she was about to give in, she heard Gwen's voice calling out. "Eleanora! What in the name of the Erdtree happened here?"

Lowering her hands, Eleanora turned to face Gwen and the girls as they approached. As she did, a faint, mocking laughter echoed in her mind.

"It's... a long story," Eleanora began, her voice strained. "These Bloody Fingers, they tried to... corrupt me. They used some kind of ritual while I slept."

Millicent's eyes widened. "That's why you were thrashing about in your sleep when I found you!"

Eleanora nodded grimly. "Yes. They attempted to drag me back into the service of the Formless Mother. I resisted, but..."

She trailed off, casting a meaningful glance at Gwen. "There's more, but perhaps it's best discussed in private."

Gwen understood immediately. "Of course. Girls, give us a moment-"

But before she could finish, a commotion erupted from the entrance to the courtyard. Haligtree guards poured in, followed by the remaining Bloody Fingers led by Steffon, their de facto leader.

Steffon's eyes blazed with fury as he took in the scene. "What is the meaning of this? Our brothers and sisters lie dead, and we demand answers!"

One of the Haligtree guards stepped forward, trying to maintain order. "Everyone, please remain calm. We need to-"

"Calm?" a Bloody Finger shouted. "You expect us to be calm when our comrades have been slaughtered?"

Eleanora stepped forward, her voice sharp. "Your 'comrades' attempted to corrupt me through dark rituals. They got what they deserved."

Steffon's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And we're supposed to take your word? How do we know this isn't some ploy to eliminate your rivals?"

The accusation hung in the air, tension building as both sides began reaching for their weapons.

Gwen intervened, her voice filled with authority. "Enough! This is not the time or place for-"

But her words were drowned out as more members of the Host arrived, drawn by the commotion. The courtyard erupted into a cacophony of shouting and accusations.

"The Bloody Fingers can't be trusted!"

"Neither can she! Once tainted by blood, always tainted!"

"How dare you question an archangel's honor?"

As the situation spiraled towards violence, with weapons being drawn on both sides, Eleanora found herself at the center of a storm she had inadvertently created. The lingering influence of the Formless Mother whispered in her mind, urging her to embrace the chaos unfolding before her.

The sudden sound of powerful wing beats silenced the chaos. All eyes turned skyward as Magnus and Maeve descended, their divine presence pouring over all gathered. The gathered crowd immediately knelt, sensing the twins' anger.

Magnus surveyed the scene grimly, his face etched with barely contained fury. His daughters shrank back, recognizing the rare display of their father's wrath.

Moments later, Malenia, Miquella, and Godwyn arrived. Miquella's soft voice broke the tense silence. "What has happened here?"

When no one dared answer, Maeve's sharp tone cut through the air. "Speak. My brother, the Lord of the Haligtree, demands an answer."

Some of the men began stammering out explanations, cowering under the Dark Angel's gaze. Steffon, visibly annoyed, stepped forward.

"My lord," he began, addressing Magnus, "we found our comrades slain by the archangel Eleanora. She claims they attacked her, but we have only her word."

As Steffon's tone grew disrespectful towards the archangels, Magnus fixed him with a piercing glare that made the man falter mid-sentence.

Magnus then turned to Gwen. "What transpired here?"

Gwen recounted Eleanora's explanation, with Millicent confirming what she had witnessed upon entering Eleanora's chambers.

Steffon, struggling to maintain composure, spoke up again. "With all due respect, how are we to resolve this when it's their trusted word against ours? Our comrades lie dead, unable to defend themselves."

Malenia looked to her twin. "Miquella, perhaps you could use your charm on Eleanora? Have her confess the truth of what occurred."

Maeve nodded in agreement. "Yes, once we know the truth, we can seek proper justice for those responsible."

Gwen, sensing Eleanora's fragile state, quickly intervened. "My lords, if I may... perhaps it would be better to use Miquella's charm on Millicent instead? She was the first to witness the events."

Magnus studied Gwen's face, then glanced at Eleanora, noting her barely concealed distress. After a moment's consideration, he nodded. "Very well. We shall question Millicent."

The others murmured their assent, and all eyes turned to Millicent, who stood straighter under the weight of their collective gaze.

Miquella stepped forward, his childlike form belying the power he wielded. "Millicent, are you willing to submit to this?"

Millicent nodded, her voice steady. "Yes, Uncle. I have nothing to hide."

Miquella approached Millicent, his small hand outstretched. A soft golden glow emanated from his palm as he cast his charm.

"Millicent," he began, his voice gentle but firm, "tell us what you witnessed when you entered Eleanora's chambers."

Under the influence of the charm, Millicent's eyes glazed over slightly as she recounted the events. "I heard strange noises coming from Eleanora's room. When I entered, I saw several Bloody Fingers surrounding her bed. They were performing some kind of ritual. Eleanora was thrashing in her sleep, clearly in distress. When they saw me, they attacked without hesitation."

Miquella nodded, dispelling the charm. He turned to the others, his face grave. "She speaks the truth."

Steffon shook his head vehemently. "This is absurd! You expect us to believe-"

Magnus stepped forward, cutting him off. His usual warmth was gone, replaced by a cold fury that reminded everyone of Maeve. "Perhaps you'd like to submit to the charm as well, Steffon?"

Steffon stammered, taking a step back. "I... that's not necessary, my lord. I-"

Godwyn's voice rang out, sharp and suspicious. "Do you have something to hide, Steffon?"

Trapped, Steffon reluctantly nodded. "Very well. I'll submit to the charm."

As Miquella approached, the other Bloody Fingers tensed visibly. The golden glow enveloped Steffon, and Miquella began his questioning.

"Did you know what your men were doing to Eleanora?"

Steffon's eyes widened as the truth spilled from his lips. "Yes. I... I ordered it."

Gasps echoed through the courtyard. Miquella pressed on. "Why?"

"The Bloody Fingers still serve the Formless Mother," Steffon confessed, his voice monotone under the charm's influence. "We sought to make Eleanora her champion once more."

The revelation sent shockwaves through the assembled crowd. Godwyn's voice boomed out, "Guards! Seize them all!"

As the Haligtree guards moved to apprehend the Bloody Fingers, Miquella removed the charm from Steffon. Free from its influence, Steffon's face contorted with rage.

"You fools!" he spat. "The Formless Mother will have her due! And you," he turned to Eleanora, his voice dripping with venom, "you treacherous whore! You think you can escape your true nature? You'll always be nothing but a blood-soaked monster!"

Before anyone could react, there was a blur of motion. A sickening thud echoed through the courtyard as Steffon's head hit the ground, his body crumpling a moment later.

All eyes turned to Magnus, who stood with his blade drawn, blood dripping from its edge. His face was a mask of fury, his wings flared wide in a display of divine wrath.

"Let that be a lesson," Magnus growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I will not tolerate such treachery, nor such vile slander against my archangel."

The courtyard fell into stunned silence, the sudden violence a stark reminder of the power and judgment the demigods could bring to bear when provoked.

Magnus turned his burning gaze towards the remaining Bloody Fingers, his wings still flared in a display of divine fury. The tension in the air was palpable as everyone present could sense his barely contained desire to unleash his wrath upon them.

Maeve, recognizing the volatile situation, smoothly stepped forward. Her voice, though calmer than her brother's, still carried an edge of steel as she addressed Miquella and Malenia.

"My Lord and Lady of the Haligtree," Maeve began, her crimson eyes fixed on the twins, "what sentence do you pass for these crimes against your realm and the archangel?"

Miquella and Malenia exchanged a long look, silent communication passing between them. Their eyes then moved to Magnus, taking in his rage-filled posture and the blood still dripping from his blade.

Malenia's gaze softened slightly as she regarded her husband, understanding and sharing his fury. Her voice, when she spoke, was cold and authoritative.

"These traitors have committed grave offenses against our realm, our allies, and our family," Malenia declared. She paused, her golden eyes sweeping over the trembling Bloody Fingers. "For their crimes, I pass this judgment: they shall be given over to the dragons they tormented during their time in the Mountaintops."

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. Malenia continued, her voice growing harder with each word.

"Let those majestic beasts, whom these cowards once hunted for sport, now feast upon their flesh. It is a fitting end for those who would bring such chaos and betrayal into our midst."

Miquella nodded solemnly, adding his voice to the verdict. "I concur with my sister's judgment. Let it be done."

The Bloody Fingers began to plead and protest, their earlier bravado completely shattered in the face of their grim fate.

"Please, mercy!" one cried out.

"We were only following orders!" another begged.

Maeve's lips curled into a cold smile. "You should have thought of that before you pledged yourselves to chaos and betrayal. Guards, take them away."

As the Haligtree guards moved to apprehend the condemned Bloody Fingers, Magnus finally lowered his blade.

The courtyard fell into an uneasy silence as the prisoners were led away, their fate sealed. The night's events had revealed a cancer in their midst, one that had been cut out with divine justice.

As the crowd began to disperse, Magnus's voice cut through the murmur. "Miquella, Malenia, Maeve... please stay."

Godwyn, understanding the unspoken request, began ushering the others away. "Come, let's give them some privacy."

Magnus turned to his daughters, his expression softening slightly. "Girls, I need you to leave as well."

They hesitated, exchanging concerned glances, but eventually complied, following Godwyn out of the courtyard.

Once they were alone, Magnus focused his attention on Eleanora. He could sense the internal struggle raging within her, and a heavy sigh escaped his lips. He knew all too well the battle she was fighting against her darker impulses.

"Eleanora," he began gently, "I need you to tell us what happened. All of it."

Eleanora shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting between the assembled demigods. "My lord, I... I'm not sure I can. It's... difficult to speak of such things."

Magnus nodded understandingly. "I know you'd prefer to confide in just me or Gwen, but trust me when I say that each person here can offer unique insight and support."

He gestured to Maeve. "My sister understands better than anyone what it means to overcome a dark past."

Turning to Miquella, he continued, "Miquella's kindness and wisdom can help find a way to overcome these struggles."

Finally, he looked to Malenia. "And my wife... she knows all too well the cruelty of the world, of curses, and the weight of mistakes made."

Magnus's eyes met Eleanora's, his gaze warm and reassuring. "Do you trust my judgment, Eleanora?"

Without hesitation, Eleanora nodded. "Of course, my lord. Always."

Eleanora took a deep breath, steeling herself. She looked around at the assembled demigods, seeing not judgment in their eyes, but concern and a willingness to understand.

"Very well," she said softly. "I'll tell you everything."

Eleanora took a deep breath, her eyes downcast as she began her tale.

"It started with whispers," she said, her voice barely above a murmur. "The Formless Mother's voice, calling to me in my sleep. At first, I thought it was just a nightmare, but then..."

She paused, collecting herself before continuing. "The Bloody Fingers performed some kind of ritual. Suddenly, I was back in Mohgwyn Palace, surrounded by rivers of blood."

Magnus nodded encouragingly, prompting her to go on.

"There was... another me there. A version of myself from the past, reveling in blood and violence. She kept trying to tempt me, to make me remember the 'joy' of serving the Formless Mother."

Eleanora's voice trembled slightly. "And the worst part is... a part of me wanted to give in. The power, the rush... it was intoxicating."

Maeve leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. "How did you resist?"

"I tried to fight it," Eleanora replied. "But every time I resisted, the temptation grew stronger. The Formless Mother herself appeared, offering me everything I once desired."

She looked up at Magnus, her eyes filled with shame. "I... I almost gave in completely. The other me, she kissed me, and I could taste the blood. It felt so real, so..."

"Seductive," Maeve finished for her, understanding in her voice.

Eleanora nodded. "Yes. It was Millicent's scream that finally broke through. But even then, the Formless Mother's influence lingered."

Miquella spoke up, his voice gentle. "What do you mean by 'lingered'?"

Eleanora hesitated before admitting, "Even after I woke up, after I defeated the Bloody Fingers, I... I wanted to taste their blood. To feel that power again. And I can still hear her whispers, faintly."

Malenia's expression hardened. "Is there still a risk of you succumbing to this influence?"

"I... I don't know," Eleanora confessed. "I want to say no, but the pull is strong. Especially when I'm surrounded by blood in battle."

Eleanora looked around at the gathered demigods, fear evident in her eyes. "What... what happens now? Am I a liability?"

The demigods exchanged glances, each considering the gravity of Eleanora's confession and the potential risks it posed.

Magnus turned to Miquella, his expression thoughtful. "Brother, could one of your unalloyed gold needles help in this situation?"

Miquella's childlike face creased in concentration as he considered the question. After a moment, he nodded slowly. "Yes, I believe it could. Eleanora has already demonstrated remarkable resistance to the temptations of outer gods. The needle should be able to block out any remaining influence from the Formless Mother."

Relief washed over Eleanora's face, her tense shoulders relaxing slightly. "Thank you, Lord Miquella," she said, her voice filled with gratitude. "Might I... might I receive one immediately? I fear every moment that passes leaves me vulnerable to her whispers."

Miquella nodded, a gentle smile on his face. "Of course. I'll fetch one right away." He turned to leave, with Malenia moving to accompany him.

Maeve, sensing the unspoken request in her brother's eyes, gestured for Gwen to follow as well. "Come, let's give them a moment," she said, her usual sharp tone softened with understanding.

As the others left the courtyard, Magnus and Eleanora found themselves alone. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken emotions.

Eleanora broke the silence first, her voice barely above a whisper. "My lord, I... I'm so sorry. I've failed you."

Magnus shook his head, his expression kind. "No, Eleanora. You haven't failed me."

But Eleanora was insistent, her words tumbling out in a rush of shame and frustration. "But I have! You gave me another chance, and I've served faithfully for so long. Yet after all this time, I still can't escape my past. Even now, I'm... I'm struggling."

Magnus studied her closely, sensing the internal battle she was waging. His voice was gentle but firm when he spoke. "Eleanora, what is the Formless Mother telling you to do right now?"

Eleanora's eyes widened in surprise, then dropped to the ground. She sighed heavily, realizing she couldn't hide anything from her lord. "I... I should have known I couldn't conceal it from you."

She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the confession. "The Formless Mother... she's commanding me to... to either seduce you into her service, or..." Her voice faltered for a moment before she forced herself to continue. "Or to kill you and bathe in your divine blood."

Magnus remained silent for a moment, absorbing the weight of her words. When he spoke, his voice was calm, without a trace of fear or judgment. "And yet you stand here, confessing this to me instead of acting on these commands. Do you not see the strength in that, Eleanora?"

Eleanora looked up, her eyes meeting Magnus's. "But the very fact that I'm hearing these commands, that I'm even considering them for a moment... doesn't that make me a threat?"

Magnus shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. "No, it makes you human. Or, well, as human as any of us can claim to be." His expression grew more serious. "The true measure of one's character isn't in never feeling temptation, Eleanora. It's in how we respond to that temptation."

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You've faced your darkest impulses and chosen to resist them. That's not failure. That's the very definition of strength."

Eleanora's eyes welled with tears, the weight of her struggle and Magnus's understanding overwhelming her. "I... I don't know if I'm strong enough to keep resisting forever, my lord."

Magnus nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And that's why we're getting you Miquella's needle. But remember, Eleanora, you're not alone in this fight. We're all here to support you, to help you overcome these challenges."

As they stood there, waiting for the others to return with the needle, the bond between them – lord and archangel, savior and saved – deepened. Magnus's unwavering faith in her strength gave Eleanora hope that perhaps, with time and support, she could truly overcome the lingering influence of her dark past.

The crack in her psyche widened, allowing her to perceive the Formless Mother's manifestation. The blood god's form, alluring and terrible, circled around Magnus, adopting a provocative pose as it leaned against him.

Its voice, a seductive whisper, slithered into Eleanora's thoughts. "Look how vulnerable he is, my child. He would never harm you. It would be so easy to strike him down, to claim his power for your own."

Eleanora's hand twitched involuntarily, her body responding to the temptation even as her mind recoiled from it. She gritted her teeth, fighting against the insidious influence.

Suddenly, the Formless Mother's presence shifted, appearing beside Eleanora. Its voice grew more insistent, more enticing. "Why fight it, dear one? You could have so much more. Walk to him, persuade him to embrace these desires. Together, you could turn him into the ultimate empyrean of the blood god. Imagine the power you would wield at his side."

The temptation was overwhelming, the promise of power and pleasure almost too much to resist. Eleanora felt herself taking an involuntary step forward, her resolve wavering.

But then, something unexpected happened. Magnus closed his eyes, his posture shifting into one of deep meditation. When he spoke, his voice carried an otherworldly resonance that shocked both Eleanora and the Formless Mother.

"Your whispers fall on deaf ears, Formless One," Magnus said, his eyes still closed.

The blood god's form wavered, surprise evident in its voice. "How... how is this possible? You shouldn't be able to perceive me!"

Magnus's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "You forget, I was once a god myself. The spirit of my mother, Marika, lives on within me. And with my newfound mastery over time, my power extends far beyond what you thought."

The Formless Mother's form solidified, its voice taking on a mocking tone. "BOLD WORDS, LITTLE GODLING. BUT DO YOU TRULY THINK YOU CAN STAND AGAINST ME?"

In response, Magnus's eyes snapped open, blazing with divine light. The Rune of Life manifested around him, its power radiating outward in waves of energy.

"I command you to leave this place," Magnus declared, his voice resonating with authority. "Your influence here is at an end."

The Formless Mother recoiled, its form beginning to dissipate under the onslaught of Magnus's power. But even as it faded, its laughter echoed through the courtyard.

"YOU MAY BANISH ME FOR NOW, ANGEL," it taunted, "BUT MY WHISPERS WILL REMAIN. I'VE MARKED THIS ONE DEEPLY, AND A PART OF HER WILL ALWAYS LONG FOR THE EMBRACE OF BLOOD."

With a final surge of power from Magnus, the Formless Mother's manifestation vanished entirely. The courtyard fell silent, the air still crackling with residual energy from the confrontation.

Eleanora stood frozen, her mind reeling from what she had just witnessed. The immediate presence of the Formless Mother was gone, but true to its parting words, she could still feel its influence lingering in the recesses of her mind.

Magnus turned to her, his expression a mixture of concern and determination. "Are you alright, Eleanora?"

She nodded shakily, still processing the events. "I... I think so. But it's still there, isn't it? In my mind?"

Magnus's face softened with understanding. "Yes, but its power is greatly diminished. And with Miquella's needle, we'll weaken its hold even further. You're stronger than its influence, Eleanora. Never forget that."

As they stood there, waiting for the others to return with the unalloyed gold needle, Eleanora felt a complex mix of emotions. Fear of the lingering whispers, awe at Magnus's display of power, and a renewed determination to overcome the darkness within her.

Miquella returned to the courtyard, the golden needle gleaming in his hand. Without hesitation, Eleanora reached for it, her fingers trembling slightly as she grasped the delicate implement.

"Thank you, Lord Miquella," she said, her voice filled with gratitude.

Miquella offered a gentle smile. With a deep breath, Eleanora embedded the needle into her flesh. The effect was almost instantaneous. The whispers that had been plaguing her mind began to fade, growing fainter with each passing second. In the recesses of her consciousness, she heard one final, anguished cry from the Formless Mother – a resounding "NO!" that echoed before dissipating into nothingness.

Eleanora let out a long, relieved sigh. "The whispers... they're gone. Or at least, so faint I can barely hear them now." She looked between Magnus and Miquella, her eyes shining with unshed tears of relief. "Thank you both, truly."

Miquella nodded, his childlike face filled with compassion. "You're most welcome, Eleanora. If you need any further assistance, please don't hesitate to ask." With that, he took his leave, sensing that Magnus and Eleanora needed a moment alone.

Once Miquella had departed, Magnus turned to Eleanora, his expression concerned. "Will you be alright for the flight tomorrow morning?"

Eleanora's lips curved into a genuine smile, the first one she'd managed since this ordeal began. "I'll be perfect now, my lord. Thanks to you and Lord Miquella."

She paused, her expression growing more serious. "Magnus... I want to thank you. Not just for tonight, but for everything. For not killing me the day we met, even when my resolve wavered. For giving me this chance to serve you, to become friends with Gwen, to look after the girls. For allowing me to be... not a monster anymore."

Magnus's eyes softened at her words. "Eleanora, you've more than earned your place here. But I should thank you as well. For being better, just as you promised you would be. For being a good friend to me and to the girls. You've become an integral part of our family."

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, the weight of their shared history and the night's events settling around them.

Finally, Magnus spoke again. "It's late, and we have an early start tomorrow. You should get some rest."

Eleanora nodded. "Of course, my lord. Good night, and thank you again."

As they parted ways, Eleanora started walking, but not in the direction of her chambers. She realized with a start that her room had been destroyed in the earlier confrontation. With a sigh, she changed course, heading towards Gwen's chambers instead.

Reaching Gwen's door, Eleanora paused, taking a moment to collect herself before knocking. She knew her friend would have questions about the night's events, and she was finally ready to share the full story. With a deep breath, she raised her hand and rapped gently on the door, ready to face whatever came next with the strength and resolve of a true archangel of the Host.

Chapter 99: Curse of NascencyNotes:

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Chapter Text

After the business with the Bloody Fingers, Miquella found himself wondering the halls of the Haligtree. So much had changed since he first created this kingdom, yet in many ways, it was exactly the same. It was still a haven for the lost, his loved ones were here, his work was here, his hopes and dreams were here. Yet there were so many new additions to the place as well.

He walked by the prayer room. He thought back to when he use to speak to the misbegotten or albinaurics that came here for sanctuary. He'd often offered them words of comfort in this very room.

It was more special than that. Before it had become filled with the people that often visited it, he sought solace here. Not to pray to any real deity or figure for anything. To simply… be there.

He spent many hours thinking of the nature of his and Malenia's curse in this very room. Malenia's had been deduced easily. The spiteful God of Rot, seeking a powerful vessel.

Miquella had never truly learned an answer as to how his curse came to be. SImply because his parents were two halves? Because Malenia was cursed? Because he was an empyrean? Or simply that his mother had wished to afflict him with it, fearing Miquella would one day surpass her…

No. It was none of them. He had decided on that some time ago. With his and Magnus' secret work, they had spent countless hours working together. They had deduced it was neither of them. Most likely some other Outer God, seeking to influence him or rather what they more favored as a theory: The Greater Will wanted a successor after Marika. One that could keep the order at what it was for all time.

Perfect order for all of eternity. Who better than a vessel cursed with nascency. One that would forever be trapped to remain where he was. Never achieving any lofty ambitions that it most likely and very rightly feared Marika might have.

He and Magnus tried to use Magnus's newfound control of time to perhaps break this curse. They had empowered a powerful needle, one that rivaled that of what he created for Malenia and Millicent. Yet alas it had failed… "just as I always will."

—

Lansseax entered the chamber she shared with Godwyn, her draconic features etched with concern. Godwyn was already in bed, but his eyes were open, indicating he was still awake.

"Is it true?" Lansseax asked, her voice tinged with worry. "What I've heard about the Bloody Fingers and Eleanora?"

Godwyn nodded solemnly, his expression grave. "Yes, it's true. Eleanora was nearly corrupted by the Formless Mother's influence, thanks to the treachery of the Bloody Fingers."

Lansseax's eyes widened. "By the stars... And what of the prisoners? The ones responsible for this atrocity?"

Godwyn's voice grew cold as he recounted their fate. "They've been sentenced to be given to the dragons they once tormented in the Mountaintops. A fitting end for such traitors."

Lansseax nodded, a mixture of satisfaction and sorrow in her eyes.

She climbed into bed beside Godwyn. As she settled in, she turned to face him, her eyes searching his. "Are you ready, my love? To lead us all to glory in this coming battle?"

Godwyn's serious expression melted into a warm smile, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "As ready as I'll ever be," he said, pulling her close. "With you by my side, how could I not be?"

—

Meanwhile, on the ramparts of the Haligtree, Radahn and Siluria stood side by side, their gazes turned upward to the star-studded sky. The beauty of the cosmos stretched out before them, a tapestry of light against the darkness.

Siluria turned to Radahn, her voice soft with affection and curiosity. "Do you still dream of venturing up there one day? To touch the stars you've studied for so long?"

Radahn's eyes remained fixed on the heavens for a moment before he turned to meet Siluria's gaze. A gentle smile played across his lips. "A part of me does," he admitted. "The allure of the unknown, the mysteries waiting to be unraveled... it still calls to me."

He paused, his massive hand reaching out to caress Siluria's cheek. "But I find myself content to stay here, with you. The greatest adventure, the most profound mystery, I've found right here."

With that, he pulled Siluria into a tight embrace, his lips meeting hers in a tender kiss. The stars above seemed to shine brighter, as if blessing their union.

As they parted, Siluria's usually stoic demeanor softened, a rare smile gracing her features. "We should get to bed," she said, her voice warm with affection. "Tomorrow brings new challenges, and we'll need our rest."

Radahn nodded, taking her hand in his as they turned to leave the ramparts. As they walked, both felt a sense of peace and purpose. Whatever trials lay ahead, they would face them together, their bond stronger than any force that might seek to tear them apart.

—-

In the quiet of their shared chamber, Messmer lay awake, his arms wrapped protectively around the sleeping form of Rellana. His serpentine companions, usually fierce and vigilant, now coiled gently around them both, offering a strange but comforting embrace to the former lunar princess.

Messmer's mind wandered back to the day Rellana had first come to him, her eyes blazing with determination as she pledged her sword to his cause. He remembered the battles they had fought side by side in the Land of Shadow, the unspoken connection that had grown between them with each shared victory and hardship.

A small smile played across his lips as he recalled their long dance of unspoken feelings, the tension that had built over years of companionship and shared purpose. How foolish they had been, he mused, to deny themselves this happiness for so long.

Gently, so as not to wake her, Messmer brushed a strand of hair from Rellana's face. In sleep, her features were softened, the weight of her responsibilities momentarily lifted. He felt a surge of gratitude for her presence in his life, for the strength and comfort she provided.

As he settled in beside her, Messmer allowed himself a moment of contentment.

—-

Meanwhile, in another part of the Haligtree, Miquella pushed open the door to his private chambers, only to find an unexpected guest awaiting him. Maeve sat comfortably in one of his chairs, a bottle of his carefully hidden brew open before her.

Miquella couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. "I see you've made yourself at home," he said, his childlike voice tinged with amusement.

Maeve grinned, holding up a glass in salute. "Hope you don't mind. After a day like today, I figured we both could use a drink."

Miquella moved further into the room, closing the door behind him. "And how, pray tell, did you find my secret stash?"

Maeve's grin widened. "Please, brother. I make it my business to know everyone's secrets. Especially the delicious ones."

With a shake of his head and a smile, Miquella joined her, accepting the offered glass. "Well, since you've gone to all this trouble, it would be rude to refuse."

Maeve and Miquella sat comfortably, sharing drinks and trading light-hearted jabs. As the night wore on, their usual barriers lowered by the potent brew and the ease of each other's company, Maeve's sharp eyes caught something unusual.

"Wait a minute," she said, interrupting Miquella mid-sentence. "Go back to that wall post over there."

Miquella, confused by the sudden request, furrowed his brow. "The wall post? Why?"

Maeve waved her hand impatiently. "Just humor me, will you?"

With a bemused shake of his head, Miquella rose and walked to the indicated spot. As he stood there, Maeve's eyes widened in realization.

"By the Erdtree," she breathed. "Miquella, you're taller."

Miquella's confusion deepened. "What are you talking about? I've been the same height for-"

But as he turned to look at the markings on the wall post, markings he had made over countless years to track his unchanging height, his words died in his throat. The top of his head now clearly exceeded the highest mark.

"This... this can't be," Miquella whispered, his voice a mixture of disbelief and growing excitement.

Maeve stood, moving closer to examine the evidence. "But it is. Look at yourself. You've grown."

Miquella's hands trembled as he reached up to touch the top of his head, then the wall marking. "Magnus's spell," he said, his voice growing stronger. "His manipulation of time, combined with the unalloyed gold... it worked. The curse... Maeve, the curse is broken!"

The realization hit them both at the same time. Miquella's eternal childhood, his curse of nascency that had trapped him in a child's body for eons, was no more.

"You did it," Maeve said, a rare, genuine smile spreading across her face. "You brilliant fool, you actually did it!"

Miquella's face lit up with pure joy. "We did it! "

In a moment of pure elation, Miquella threw his arms around Maeve and, without thinking, kissed her passionately. To both their surprise, Maeve responded naturally, caught up in the euphoria of the moment.

After a few seconds, they both froze, suddenly aware of what they were doing. They pulled apart, a mix of confusion and lingering desire in their eyes.

Miquella was the first to speak, his voice hesitant. "I... I'm sorry, Maeve. I don't know what came over me."

Maeve, her usual sharp wit failing her for once, replied softly, "It's... it's fine. We were just caught up in the moment."

An awkward silence fell between them, the air thick with unspoken feelings and possibilities. A part of both of them wanted to continue, to explore this unexpected connection, but Maeve, ever pragmatic, broke the tension.

"You should tell Malenia," she said, her voice regaining some of its usual steadiness. "She needs to know about this. It changes everything."

Miquella nodded, grateful for the change of subject. "You're right, of course. She'll be overjoyed." He paused, then added hesitantly, "Would you... would you come with me? To tell her?"

Maeve considered for a moment, then nodded. "Of course. This is a momentous occasion. It should be shared."

As they prepared to leave the room, both Miquella and Maeve felt a shift in their relationship. The kiss, brief as it was, had awakened something neither of them had expected. But for now, they pushed those feelings aside, focusing instead on the incredible news they were about to share with Malenia.

Miquella and Maeve burst into Magnus and Malenia's chamber, their excitement overriding any sense of propriety. The scene that greeted them, however, was not what they expected.

"Star shit!" Maeve exclaimed, her hands flying to cover her eyes. "Are you two trying to make more demigods? Because that's not how it works!"

Magnus and Malenia, caught in a rather compromising position, scrambled to cover themselves with the sheets.

"Damn it, Maeve!" Magnus sputtered, his face flushing red. "Haven't you heard of knocking?"

Malenia, equally flustered, added, "This isn't exactly a public spectacle!"

But Miquella, in his elation, seemed oblivious to the awkward situation. "Never mind that!" he shouted, practically bouncing with excitement. "Something incredible has happened!"

Maeve, still shielding her eyes, groaned. "More incredible than seeing my brother's bare ass in the air doing gods know what position? Because that's a sight I could have lived without."

"Oh, grow up, Maeve," Malenia retorted, then paused as she realized what she'd said. "Speaking of growing..."

Miquella, unable to contain himself any longer, blurted out, "The curse! It's broken! I've grown!"

Malenia, her earlier embarrassment forgotten, leaned forward, her eyes wide. "What? Miquella, are you certain?"

Magnus, equally shocked, asked, "How is this possible?"

Miquella nodded vigorously. "It's true! Look at me!"

Malenia moved to get up, but Maeve quickly interjected, "For the love of all that's holy, put some clothes on first! I've seen enough naked demigods for one night."

As Malenia and Magnus hurriedly donned robes, Miquella explained the discovery in his chambers. Once decent, Malenia approached her brother, her eyes scanning him from head to toe.

"By the Erdtree," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "It's true. You've grown."

Magnus, examining Miquella closely, nodded in agreement. "The spell... it actually worked. This is incredible!"

Malenia pulled Miquella into a tight embrace, tears of joy streaming down her face. "Oh, my dear brother. After all this time..."

Maeve, finally deeming it safe to look, couldn't help but smirk. "The eternal child finally hit puberty. Better late than never, I suppose."

As the family celebrated this unexpected turn of events, Maeve found herself reluctantly drawn into the group hug.

"Alright, alright," she said, her voice gruff but warm. "Enough with the mushy 's eyes suddenly widened as a realization hit him. "Magnus, do you know what this means for our plans with the Divine Towers?"

Magnus nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "It means that whatever you build or plan will no longer fall short of its goal. Your creations, your ideas... they'll reach their full potential."

"Exactly!" Miquella exclaimed. "Our plan for the Divine Towers... it will work!"

Miquella, sensing the late hour and the need for rest, finally said, "We should probably let you two get back to... whatever it was you were doing. We can discuss all of this in the morning before Magnus and I leave, and inform everyone else then."

"Yes, please," Maeve agreed emphatically. "I've seen quite enough of my siblings' bedroom antics for one lifetime."

As they made their way to the door, Maeve couldn't resist one final jab. "Try not to wake the entire Haligtree with your 'celebrations,' you two. Some of us need our beauty sleep."

With that, Miquella and Maeve left, closing the door behind them on the sounds of Magnus and Malenia's mingled laughter and protests. For this one night, at least, hope and joy burned brighter than ever in the heart of the Haligtree.

As the morning sun painted the sky in hues of gold and pink, Magnus strode toward the docks, his white wings folded neatly against his back. Miquella stood waiting, his newly adult form still a sight that gave Magnus pause. Despite the growth spurt, Miquella's face retained its youthful charm, though Miquella was still quite small, not having fully grown.

"Brother," Miquella called out, a hint of excitement in his voice. "The ships have already departed with the unalloyed cargo. We're making good time."

Magnus nodded, his golden eyes scanning the horizon. "Excellent. The Divine Tower in West Altus is our first stop then?"

"Indeed," Miquella confirmed. "It's the closest, and a good place to test our theory."

Malenia approached, she placed a hand on Magnus's cheek, drawing him in for a tender kiss. "Be safe, both of you," she said, her voice a mixture of concern and pride.

Turning to Miquella, Malenia shook her head in wonder. "I still can't believe my eyes, brother. You've grown... what, a few inches?"

Miquella chuckled, a sound that still held the tinkling quality of his younger self. "Mock all you want, sister. Soon I'll be towering over you."

Their banter was interrupted as the archangels arrived, a colorful assortment of personalities and powers. Magnus's gaze fell on Mary, noticing her uncharacteristic silence. The talk they'd had about her recent behavior clearly weighed on her. He offered her a warm smile, which seemed to ease some of the tension in her shoulders.

Eleanora sauntered up, her demeanor noticeably lighter since receiving the unalloyed gold needle. She was in the midst of a spirited debate with Maureen and Millicent.

"I'm telling you," Eleanora insisted, "pickled turtle neck is a delicacy. You two just lack refined taste."

Maureen rolled her eyes. "Refined? It's slimy and smells like feet."

"That's part of the charm!" Eleanora retorted.

Millicent chimed in, "I'd sooner eat rowa fruit."

Magnus chuckled, stepping into the fray. "Now, now, ladies. I have to side with Eleanora on this one. Pickled turtle neck is an acquired taste." He winked at Eleanora.

Eleanora's face lit up with triumph. "Ha! See? Lord Magnus knows quality when he tastes it."

Maureen and Millicent groaned in unison.

As the mirth subsided, Magnus noticed Polyanna approaching Malenia with a hesitant step. He felt a surge of pride, remembering their conversation about her struggles with the recent battle.

"Mother," Polyanna said softly, "could we talk for a moment?"

Malenia's expression softened. "Of course, my dear." She guided Polyanna to a quiet corner of the docks, their heads bent close in conversation.

Amy stood apart from the group, her quiet presence a constant in the lively gathering. Magnus made a mental note to check in with her later, ensuring she didn't feel left out.

Polyanna's voice trembled as she recounted the events to her mother. "It was during the recent Frenzied Flame attack. We found some Haligtree guards who had abandoned their posts. They were just... hiding."

Malenia's brow furrowed. "Go on."

"Mary demanded they return to battle, to keep their oaths. But they... they attacked Amy instead. One of them stabbed her in the shoulder." Polyanna's fists clenched at the memory.

"And that's when you lost control?" Malenia asked gently.

Polyanna nodded, her eyes downcast. "I just... I ripped into them. I couldn't stop. Their bodies were everywhere, and I... I enjoyed it, Mother. I wanted to keep going, to eviscerate them even more." She looked up, her eyes pleading. "Afterwards, I felt like a savage. I know my sisters already tease me for being wild, but this was different."

Malenia placed a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Why didn't you come to me sooner, Polyanna?"

The young angel hesitated, then admitted quietly, "I... I went to Father first."

Surprise flickered across Malenia's face, followed by a hint of hurt. "Oh?"

"I'm sorry, Mother. I just... I didn't know how to tell you."

Malenia took a deep breath. "And what did your father say?"

"He gave me advice. He told me to talk to you, actually." Polyanna bit her lip. "I was afraid to come to you because... because I didn't want you to see me as a savage. Or weak for feeling this way about it."

Malenia's expression softened. "Oh, Polyanna. I would never think that of you. Your father was right – it takes great strength to admit these feelings."

"Really?" Polyanna asked, hope creeping into her voice.

"Really," Malenia affirmed. "And I want you to know something. I've made mistakes in the past too. Mistakes that cost me my dignity, my pride, and the lives of my soldiers."

Polyanna's eyes widened. "But you're the Blade of Miquella. You're... you're perfect."

Malenia shook her head, a sad smile on her face. "Far from it, my dear. I have made so many mistakes, been rash and it has cost me things,cost me people I cared for."

"Like who," Pollyanna asked her.

"Do you remember the spirit ash I always carry with me? Finlay?"

"The Cleanrot Knight? Of course."

"Well," Malenia began, her voice taking on a nostalgic tone, "there's a reason I keep her close..."

Malenia's voice took on a reverent tone as she continued her story. "Finlay was more than just a knight, Polyanna. She was a beacon of hope and loyalty in those early days of the Haligtree."

Polyanna listened intently, her eyes wide with curiosity. "What was she like?"

"Fierce, determined, and kind," Malenia replied, a fond smile playing on her lips. "When she arrived at the Haligtree, it was still a fledgling kingdom. Miquella and I were working tirelessly to nurture it into the haven we dreamed it could be."

"But Finlay came seeking refuge?" Polyanna asked.

Malenia nodded. "Her village in Limgrave had been raided. She lost everything – her family, her home. Yet even in her grief, she saw the potential in what we were building here."

"And she became one of the first Cleanrot Knights?"

"Indeed. Finlay and a handful of others pledged their lives, their honor, and their swords to me. They knew the risks – that the Scarlet Rot might claim them – but they stood by my side regardless."

Polyanna's brow furrowed. "That must have been hard for you, knowing they might suffer because of their loyalty."

Malenia's expression turned somber. "It was. But their dedication... it gave me strength. As the years passed, many came and went, claimed by the Rot or fallen in battle. But Finlay remained. She rose through the ranks, eventually becoming the last of that original group."

"She sounds amazing," Polyanna whispered.

"She was," Malenia agreed. "More than a soldier, more than a commander. Finlay was my truest friend. Always there, always loyal, even when I insisted I needed no help."

Malenia paused, her gaze distant. When she spoke again, her voice was heavy with emotion. "And then... then came the battle of Aenoia."

Polyanna leaned in, sensing the weight of what was to come. "What happened there, Mother?"

Malenia took a deep breath, steeling herself to recount a painful memory. "It was meant to be a simple campaign..."

Malenia's eyes grew distant as she continued her tale. "I went to Aenoia to speak with Radahn, to convince him to release his hold on the stars. But he refused."

She waved her hand dismissively. "You know the rest of that story, and how Radahn and I have since reconciled. But Finlay's part in this tale... that's what I need you to understand."

Polyanna nodded, hanging on every word.

"When I bloomed," Malenia said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I devastated Caelid. So many lives were lost – Cleanrot Knights, Redmane soldiers, innocent civilians. I may not have meant to bloom, but the guilt... it weighs on me every day."

Malenia gave a sad smile before continuing. "But Finlay... she was something else entirely."

"What happened to her?" Polyanna asked, her voice tight with anticipation.

Malenia sighed deeply. "In the aftermath of the bloom, I fell into a deep slumber. Finlay was the only Cleanrot Knight who found me. And somehow, despite everything, she carried me."

"Carried you?"

"All the way from Caelid to the Haligtree," Malenia confirmed. "Can you imagine? Through swamps, across mountains, fending off countless foes. All while bearing my unconscious form."

Polyanna's eyes widened in awe. "That's... incredible. But surely she must have been affected by the Rot?"

Malenia nodded, her expression pained. "She was already dying when we finally reached home. But she held on, Polyanna. She clung to life until she was certain I was safe in the Haligtree. And then... then she died."

A heavy silence fell between them. Polyanna's voice was soft when she finally spoke. "She sounds like she truly loved you, Mother."

"She did," Malenia agreed, her voice thick with emotion. "And I loved her. She gave everything for me, without hesitation or regret. That's why I keep her spirit ash close. To honor her sacrifice and to remind myself of the weight our actions carry."

Malenia gently took Polyanna's arm, her touch conveying both comfort and urgency. "I've told you this, Polyanna, to show you that even I have my failures, my regrets. I devastated Caelid, left my Cleanrot Knights scattered and leaderless in the aftermath. I failed Finlay, my closest friend."

Polyanna's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "But you're still here, still fighting."

"Yes," Malenia nodded firmly. "I keep moving forward. I remain strong, absolute in my purpose."

"What is that purpose now, Mother?" Polyanna asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Malenia's gaze softened. "Once, it was solely to protect and serve Miquella. Now... it's evolved. It's still partly that, but also to be Magnus's partner, to be a mother to you girls, and to save this world from the evil of the Frenzied Flame."

She paused, her tone growing more serious. "We may have to do things we don't like to achieve that goal. Things we'll regret. But we must never falter in who we are at heart. I need you to understand that. So you do not make the same mistakes I have."

Polyanna nodded slowly, absorbing her mother's words. "I think I do. Thank you, Mother. For sharing this with me, for... for understanding."

Malenia smiled, a mixture of pride and love in her eyes. "Always, my dear. Now, we should get back. You have a flight to catch with the others."

As they began walking back towards the group, Polyanna hesitated. "Mother?"

"Yes?"

"I'm glad I talked to you. I... I won't keep things from you again."

Malenia's smile widened. "I'm glad to hear that."

Magnus caught Malenia's eye as she and Polyanna returned, giving her a subtle nod of understanding. He then turned to Miquella, who was waiting expectantly.

"Ready for our flight, brother?" Miquella asked with a grin.

Magnus's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Oh, absolutely. Not it!" he shouted, unfurling his majestic white wings and launching into the sky.

"Wha- Magnus!" Miquella called after him, exasperated.

The girls, seeing their father's swift departure, quickly summoned their own wings.

"Sorry, Uncle Miquella!" Mary called out as she took off.

"Better luck next time!" Maureen added with a giggle.

Amy and Millicent followed suit, leaving only Gwen and Eleanora on the ground with Miquella.

Gwen sighed, shaking her head. "Oh no, not again. I've already given Miquella a ride before. It's Eleanora's turn this time."

Eleanora's eyes widened. "I don't think-" she started, then suddenly drove her fist into Gwen's stomach. "Sorry Gwen! Not it!" she yelled, spreading her wings and taking off.

"You... you bitch!" Gwen wheezed, doubling over. She looked up at Eleanora's retreating form, then turned to Miquella with a resigned expression. "Well, looks like it's you and me again. Come on, then."

Miquella approached Gwen, an amused smile playing on his lips. "They certainly are a lively bunch, aren't they?"

"That's one way of putting it," Gwen grumbled as Miquella climbed onto her back. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know any curses we could put on them for this, would you?"

Miquella chuckled. "Sadly, we need them at full strength for this mission. However..." he paused thoughtfully, "I might be able to come up with a few harmless but amusing pranks we could play on them later."

Gwen's face lit up. "Now you're talking. I knew I liked you for a reason, my lord."

As they took to the skies, Miquella leaned in close to Gwen's ear. "How do you feel about enchanted itching cream?"

Gwen's laughter echoed across the sky as they flew to catch up with the others. "Oh, this is going to be good..."

—

Radahn and Messmer stood on the dock, their eyes fixed on the trio of women engaged in animated conversation. Rennala, Siluria, and Rellana's laughter carried across the water, drawing curious glances from the crew preparing the ship.

Radahn leaned towards Messmer, his voice low. "Any idea what they are discussing?"

Messmer shrugged, his serpent companions coiling restlessly around his shoulders. "Not a clue. But I don't like the way Rellana keeps glancing over here and giggling."

"I still find it strange, you know," Radahn admitted, scratching his red mane. "You being in a relationship with Rellana."

Messmer rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Radahn, Rellana is your aunt, not mine. There's no familial connection there for me."

"I know, I know," Radahn sighed. "But it's still... weird."

Their conversation was interrupted as the three women approached, boarding the ship with graceful steps.

"Are you boys ready to set sail?" Rennala called out, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Radahn straightened up, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the deck. "Aye, we're ready." He turned to the captain, his voice booming across the harbor. "Captain! Set sail for Liurnia!"

As the crew scrambled to obey, Radahn turned back to Siluria, curiosity getting the better of him. "So, what were you three talking about?"

Siluria's eyes danced with mischief behind her helm. "Oh, nothing much," she said, her voice lilting with suppressed laughter. "Just some... womanly chatter."

"Come now," Radahn pressed, "surely you can tell me."

Siluria giggled, a sound that seemed at odds with her imposing Crucible Knight armor. "I'm afraid not, my dear. Your mother would have my head if I revealed our little secrets."

Radahn's brow furrowed. "Mother? What does she have to do with-"

"Now, now," Rennala interrupted, appearing at Radahn's side. "Some things are best left to the imagination, my son. Shall we discuss our strategy for Liurnia instead?"

As Rennala guided Radahn away, Messmer caught Rellana's eye. She winked at him, causing a rare blush to creep up his neck.

"Women," Messmer muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he followed the others to the ship's bow.

—

Maeve stood rigid in the grand courtyard, her crimson hair catching the sunlight. Seroch, the Commander of the Host, remained at her side as the members slowly gathered. She tapped her foot impatiently, struggling to keep her irritation in check.

"Is this everyone?" she muttered to Seroch.

"Nearly, my lady," he replied. "A few stragglers from the outer barracks."

Maeve nodded curtly, her red eyes scanning the assembly. When the last few soldiers hurried into place, she stepped forward, her dark wings folded tightly against her back.

"Attention, Host of Magnus," she called out, her voice ringing across the courtyard. "I am Maeve, sister to your lord, and I stand before you today as your temporary commander. My brother has entrusted me with this responsibility during his absence."

She paused, noting the uneasy glances exchanged among the soldiers. "I know what you're thinking. You've heard the stories, haven't you? The tales of the crimson-haired demon who once terrorized the Lands Between. Well, I won't deny my past. But I stand before you now, not as that person, but as someone striving to be better."

Maeve paced as she spoke, her gaze never leaving the assembled Host. "Tomorrow, we set sail with Godwyn and his forces. Our destination is the Altus Plateau, where we will prepare for the coming invasion. This is not a simple task we face. The Frenzied Flame threatens everything we hold dear, and we must be ready to defend our realm with every ounce of strength we possess."

She stopped, her voice growing more intense. "I understand your reluctance to follow me. Some of you once served under my command, and I was... well, a harsh tyrant would be putting it mildly. But I ask you now to look beyond that. My brother, your lord Magnus, believes in me. He believes I can lead you effectively, and I intend to prove him right."

Maeve's eyes narrowed, her tone becoming more authoritative. "Make no mistake, I will not tolerate insubordination or half-hearted efforts. The stakes are too high. But I promise you this: I will lead you with the respect and honor that Magnus would expect. I will fight alongside you, bleed alongside you, die for you if necessary."

She took a deep breath. "I'm asking for another chance. If I fall short, if I revert to my old ways, I will face your judgment – or worse, my brother's. But I don't intend to fail. We have a realm to protect, and by the damned stars, we will do it."

The response was muted. No cheers, no words of support. A few men nodded reluctantly, which Maeve took as a small victory, even if she'd hoped for more.

"Prepare yourselves for tomorrow's departure. Dismissed," she announced, turning away from the assembly.

As the Host began to disperse, Seroch approached. "If I may say, Lady Maeve, that was a commendable address."

Maeve snorted. "Was it, Commander? They looked ready to mutiny."

"But they didn't," Seroch pointed out respectfully. "There was no shouting, no outright defiance. It's a promising start, my lady."

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I suppose you're right. I just... I wanted them to see I've changed."

"Change takes time, Lady Maeve," Seroch said carefully. "They will come to see your worth as a leader through your actions."

Maeve nodded, her expression hardening with determination. "Indeed they will, Commander. We have much to prove, and little time to do it."

"What are your orders, my lady?" Seroch asked, standing at attention.

"First, I want a full inventory of our supplies. Then, gather the captains. We need to review our battle strategies and ensure everyone understands their role in the coming conflict."

"At once, Lady Maeve," Seroch replied with a bow.

As he turned to leave, Maeve called after him. "And Seroch? Thank you for your support. It's... appreciated."

Seroch nodded, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Of course, my lady. It is my duty and my honor."

As Maeve watched him go, she squared her shoulders. The path ahead wouldn't be easy, but she was determined to prove herself – to the Host, to Magnus, and most importantly, to herself.

—

Maeve strode into the war room, her crimson hair a stark contrast to the muted tones of the chamber. The assembled group—Godwyn, Malenia, Lansseax, Devonia, and Loretta—turned their attention from the map-strewn table to the newcomer.

Godwyn, his golden hair catching the light, raised an eyebrow. "Ah, Maeve. How did your speech go?"

"It went," Maeve grunted, her red eyes narrowing.

"That well, huh?" Godwyn chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

Maeve scowled, crossing her arms. "They could've at least clapped. Or cheered a little. Is a little enthusiasm too much to ask?"

Loretta, her spectral form shimmering slightly, tilted her head. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you use to rule them like a tyrant?"

"Yeah. So what?" Maeve snapped, her wings rustling with irritation.

Siluria, her crucible armor glinting, chimed in, "If memory serves, didn't you also punish or kill some that failed you? Rather severely, I might add."

"Only the stupid ones," Maeve replied curtly, then added after a pause, "Or the ones I didn't like. Which, admittedly, was quite a few."

Malenia leaned forward, her golden prosthetics gleaming. "Were there any you did like? Any at all?"

Maeve paused, her brow furrowing in concentration. She began counting on her fingers, then stopped abruptly. "Gwen."

"That's it?" Malenia pressed, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"What can I say? I have high standards," Maeve shrugged. "Still, they could show some appreciation. I'm trying here."

Godwyn snickered, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Didn't you nearly kill some of them out there? On multiple occasions, if I recall correctly from what the others have told me."

"Yes," Lansseax and Malenia answered in unison before Maeve could respond, their voices tinged with exasperation.

Lansseax, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders, added, "You imprisoned me once. For quite some time, I might add."

"You were being a bitch," Maeve retorted, then sighed. "I was a bigger bitch back then. I admit it. Happy now?"

Malenia crossed her arms, her gaze piercing. "Let's not forget the time you tried to kill me. That was a delightful family moment."

Maeve growled, her hands clenching into fists. "The feather told me to do it."

Loretta and Devonia exchanged glances before bursting into giggles. "Their distrust seems rather justified, doesn't it?" Loretta remarked, her ethereal voice lilting with amusement.

Throwing her hands in the air, Maeve exclaimed, "By the Erdtree, I wish Magnus or Miquella were back! They'd understand."

Malenia's brow furrowed, her tone curious. "Miquella? Why him specifically?"

Maeve quickly composed herself, realizing her slip. "He's... not as annoying as the rest of you. Plus, he makes a fine brew."

Turning to Godwyn, Maeve asked sharply, "What about you, golden boy? You got any issues with me you'd like to air?"

Godwyn shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Can't say I've had any trouble. You've been positively angelic compared to the stories."

A smirk played on Maeve's lips. "Well, look at that. You're my favorite now. Don't let it go to your head."

The others exchanged bemused glances as Maeve strode to the war table, her posture radiating determination despite the teasing. She placed her hands on the table, leaning forward to examine the maps.

"Now, are we planning a war or having a gossip session?" Maeve asked, her tone sharp but with a hint of underlying humor. "Because if it's the latter, I have some excellent dirt on Radahn you might enjoy."

Godwyn chuckled, standing to join her at the table. "As tempting as that sounds, I think we'd better focus on the task at hand. But perhaps over drinks later?"

Maeve's smirk widened. "Now you're talking my language. Let's get to work, shall we?"

Godwyn stepped forward. "We need to finalize our preparations for departure. There are several moving parts we need to coordinate."

"Let's hear it," Maeve said, her red eyes scanning the maps on the table.

Godwyn began outlining the plan, his voice steady and authoritative. "Lansseax will be flying with Malenia to Limgrave. Their first stop is to meet with Lord Haight and Magonna, the Demi-Human Queen."

Lansseax nodded, her silver hair shimmering as she moved. "We'll be leading their gathered forces to Caria Manor. Rennala and her forces will be waiting for us there."

"And what about the rest of us?" Maeve asked, her gaze shifting between the others.

Godwyn continued, "In a week's time, Loretta will be responsible for bringing the remainder of everyone left at the Haligtree to the Altus Plateau."

Loretta's spoke. "I've already begun preparations. We should be able to move swiftly and efficiently."

"By that time," Godwyn added, "Magnus and Miquella should have completed their work with the Divine Towers. If all goes according to plan, we'll all gather in Altus to prepare for the siege."

Maeve's brow furrowed as she processed the information. "And where do I fit into all this? Am I leading the Host to Altus, or do you have something else in mind?"

Godwyn turned to her, his expression serious. "You'll be coming with me, Maeve. We'll be overseeing the main force's journey to Altus."

The room fell silent for a moment as everyone considered the plans laid out before them.

Maeve broke the silence, her voice carrying a mix of determination and, surprisingly, a hint of excitement. "Well then, looks like we've got our work cut out for us."

The others nodded in agreement, a sense of unity settling over the group despite their past differences.

—

Seroch rounded a corner in the bustling hallway, his armor clanking softly, when he nearly collided with Elaine.

"Elaine!" Seroch exclaimed, his usual stern expression softening. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Elaine's eyes crinkled with a smile behind her helm. "Seroch, what a pleasant surprise. I was just on my way to oversee the Cleanrot preparations."

Seroch nodded, a hint of relief in his voice. "I'm glad you're not assigned to accompany Lady Malenia. It means we'll be able to travel together to Altus."

Elaine laughed, the sound echoing metallically through her helm. She reached up, removing it to reveal her face, before leaning in to plant a quick kiss on Seroch's cheek. "About that..."

Seroch raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I actually tried arguing with Lady Malenia about it," Elaine admitted, a hint of sheepishness in her voice. "I insisted it was my duty to be by her side."

"And how did that go?" Seroch asked, amusement tinging his words.

Elaine chuckled. "Well, Lady Malenia simply pointed out that she'd be riding atop Lansseax. The image of me trying to balance on a dragon's back while maintaining my dignity... I had to relent."

Seroch laughed, a rare, deep sound that echoed through the hallway. "I can picture it now. Perhaps we should suggest dragon-riding lessons for the Cleanrot Knights?"

"Don't you dare," Elaine warned playfully, swatting his arm. "I have enough trouble keeping them in line as it is."

Seroch's expression grew more serious, though his eyes remained warm. "Well, I'm just glad we'll have some extra time together. It's been too long since we've had a moment to ourselves."

Elaine nodded, her own expression mirroring his. "Indeed it has. Though I fear we won't have much downtime on this journey."

"We'll make the most of what we have," Seroch assured her, reaching out to squeeze her hand briefly.

Elaine smiled, then sighed as she glanced down the hallway. "I suppose we should get back to our duties. The Host and the Cleanrot won't prepare themselves."

Seroch nodded, straightening his posture. "Indeed. Until later, then?"

"Until later," Elaine confirmed, replacing her helm. She turned to go, then paused, looking back at Seroch. "Stay safe out there, Commander."

"And you, Commander," Seroch replied, a small smile playing on his lips.

—

In the heart of the Haligtree, Melina sat alone, her heterochromatic eyes fixed on the gnarled roots surrounding her. The quiet solitude of her chosen sanctuary was both a comfort and a torment. Time seemed to blur in this secluded spot, and Melina found herself wondering if the others had indeed forgotten about her.

"Perhaps it's for the best," she murmured to herself, her voice barely audible. The weight of her perceived failure pressed heavily upon her shoulders. Magnus's vision of the past, revealing the atrocities committed by her former Tarnished, had reopened wounds she thought long buried.

Lost in her melancholy thoughts, Melina almost missed the soft footsteps approaching. A familiar voice broke through her reverie.

"Melina? Is that you?"

Melina looked up, her gaze meeting the concerned eyes of Roderika. The spirit tuner stood a few paces away, her golden hair catching the filtered light that streamed through the branches above.

For a moment, Melina was transported back to the Roundtable Hold, watching unseen as her Tarnished spoke with Roderika, helping her find her purpose. The memory brought a bittersweet pang to her heart.

"Roderika," Melina greeted, her voice carrying a forced neutrality. "I didn't expect to see anyone here."

Roderika took a tentative step forward. "I've been looking for you. The others... they're worried."

Melina's expression remained guarded. "Are they? I wouldn't have thought I'd be missed."

"Of course you are," Roderika insisted, her brow furrowing with concern. "Melina, I know we didn't interact much before, but I remember you. From when we fought against... against him."

Melina nodded slowly, memories of their desperate battle against the Lord of Frenzied Flame flashing through her mind. "Yes, I remember."

Roderika moved closer, settling herself on a nearby root. "And you were our leader. You brought us together, gave us hope."

"lot of good it did in the end," Melina muttered, averting her gaze.

A silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken words and shared pain. Roderika seemed to be searching for the right thing to say, while Melina retreated further into her shell of guilt and self-recrimination.

Finally, Roderika spoke again, her voice soft but determined. "Melina, what happened... it wasn't your fault. None of us could have predicted-"

"Couldn't we?" Melina interrupted, a bitter edge to her voice. "I was supposed to guide him. I should have seen the signs."

Roderika reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a gentle hand on Melina's arm. "We all make mistakes. But hiding away here, punishing yourself... it won't change the past."

Melina looked at Roderika's hand, then up at her face. She saw no judgment there, only compassion and a shared understanding of loss.

"I... I don't know how to move forward," Melina admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Roderika squeezed her arm gently. "Perhaps you don't have to do it alone. Your family, your siblings... they want to help. Will you let them?"

Melina remained silent, conflicting emotions warring within her. The desire to retreat, to protect herself from further pain, battled against the longing for connection and understanding.

Melina remained silent, her gaze distant. She knew they would reach out, they had been trying. Almost all of them had made attempts to connect with her. Godwyn with his gentle encouragement, Miquella with his understanding wisdom, Magnus with his unwavering support, and Messmer... Messmer's efforts were particularly persistent, driven by his guilt over past wrongdoings against her. A pang of longing surprised her as she realized she was starting to miss his presence.

Her eyes drifted to Roderika's hands, noticing for the first time the delicate flowers she carried. "What are those for?" Melina asked, her curiosity momentarily overriding her melancholy.

Roderika gasped softly, her eyes widening. "Oh! I... I came to visit Rhaegon's burial. To pay my respects."

Confusion furrowed Melina's brow. "Rhaegon?"

A look of sorrow passed over Roderika's face as she realized Melina's ignorance. She sighed heavily, her voice soft as she began to explain. "Rhaegon was... he was to be Magnus and Malenia's son. They were expecting a child, but..."

Melina leaned forward, a sense of dread growing in her chest. "But what?"

Roderika's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Something went terribly wrong. The Frenzied Flame... it placed a curse on the unborn baby. He... he died in Malenia's womb."

The words hit Melina like a physical blow. She felt the air leave her lungs as the full weight of this revelation crashed down upon her. The Frenzied Flame, the very force she had failed to stop, had taken something so precious from her siblings.

"No," Melina whispered, her voice breaking. "I... I didn't know. Why didn't they tell me?"

Roderika shook her head sadly. "I thought you knew, considering..." She gestured to the spot where Melina sat, and for the first time, Melina noticed the misshapen patch of dirt and roots beside her. Her heart sank as she realized she had been sitting next to Rhaegon's final resting place all this time.

"This is..." Melina couldn't finish the sentence, her hand hovering over the disturbed earth.

Roderika nodded, her voice gentle. "They probably didn't mention it because it shook everyone so deeply. Not just Magnus and Malenia, but all of the demigods. The pain... it was overwhelming."

As Roderika spoke, memories of the aftermath flooded back to her. Her voice grew distant, lost in recollection. "I remember seeing Maeve fly into the skies. She cursed with such rage, it was terrifying and heartbreaking all at once."

Melina listened, her own grief mingling with the shared pain of her family.

Roderika continued, "Miquella... he stood in the gardens for days, even as it poured rain. It was as if he was trying to wash away the sorrow, but it clung to him like a second skin."

She paused, her voice breaking slightly. "And Godwyn... oh, Godwyn tried so hard to hide his anger, to be strong for the others. But the lightning that gathered around him betrayed his true feelings. It was like the sky itself was mourning with him."

Melina felt tears streaming down her face, unchecked.

Roderika reached out, grasping Melina's hand. "You're here now. It's not too late to be there for them."

Melina looked at Roderika, then down at the flowers in her hand. "May I... may I place some of those on Rhaegon's grave?"

Roderika nodded, a small smile breaking through her sadness. "Of course."

As they both knelt to place the flowers, Melina felt a shift within her. The weight of her failure was still there, but alongside it grew a determination. She couldn't change the past, couldn't undo the harm the Frenzied Flame had caused. But she could be here now, for her family, for the nephew she would never know.

"I'm so sorry, little one," she whispered to the grave. "I promise, I'll do everything I can to protect what's left of our new births of this world… I will ensure they live in the harmony you will never know."

Melina's mind drifted back to that fateful moment in the Cathedral of the Forsaken. The memory washed over her, vivid and painful:

She stood before the Tarnished, her chosen champion, her voice urgent and pleading. "However ruined this world has become, however mired in torment and despair, life endures. Births continue. There is beauty in that, is there not? If you would become Lord, do not deny this notion. Please, leave the Frenzied Flame alone."

The words echoed in her mind, a bitter reminder of her failure. She had tried so hard to guide him, to show him the value of life's persistence. Yet, in the end, her words had fallen on deaf ears.

Melina's eyes snapped open, her gaze falling on Rhaegon's grave. The cruel irony of her past words struck her like a physical blow. Here, before her, was the starkest denial of that continuation of life she had once championed. The Frenzied Flame had not just corrupted the world, it had stolen away the promise of new life, of hope.

Her voice, when she spoke, was filled with a cold determination. "I will ensure he meets his destined death," she said, her heterochromatic eyes blazing with resolve. "The Lord of Frenzied Flame must fall."

Roderika sighed heavily, her eyes clouded with a mix of emotions. "Part of me... a small part, hoped that maybe the friend I once knew could somehow be redeemed," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I know that's just a foolish dream."

She looked at Melina, her expression hardening. "You're right. He must be stopped. After all he's done, all the pain he's caused..." Her gaze drifted to Rhaegon's grave. "He must be destroyed."