"So it's true, then."
Hewg leaned against his anvil. Whether to peer closer at the twinkling icon of Placidusax in Ash's palms, or simply to hold himself upright, Malenia wasn't quite sure. All things considered, it was probably both.
"You've… really done it," Hewg went on. For how bone-chillingly dead he sounded, the disbelief in his voice was vibrant. "You've slain a god."
Ash nodded. "With the weapon you forged," he affirmed.
"Where is it?"
Ash and Malenia both gave a start.
"Where is what?" Ash asked.
"The greatsword. You… came to me with that fancy magic blade you can pull from thin air. What happened to the weapon I smithed?"
Malenia pursed her lips and shuffled on her feet, deciding it would be best to leave Ash to the talking for this one.
"It was… lost in the battle," Ash professed. "Buried under a mountain of rubble."
Hewg's sunken eyes widened.
"You lost the god-slaying weapon?!" he rasped. Ash raised a commanding hand; from it, the magic sword snapped into existence.
"What did you use to raise that greatsword to god-slaying status?" Ash gently questioned.
"... Ancient dragon stones," Hewg answered after a pause. Ash nodded.
"Though it may seem spectral, this new sword is as materiel as any other," he declared. "It can be hammered, treated, and smithed as you would any weapon. With some more smithing stones, we can forge this into something that will run the gods through like a hot knife through butter."
The sword blinked out of the air in a blue flash. Ash lowered his hand.
"And I would be honored to raise it to such prowess," he finished, before adding, "after you have escaped from this place."
Hewg stared blankly at Ash for a long moment, silent save for his rattling, groaning breaths. Malenia quietly clicked her teeth together as a feeling of dismay and irritation heated up within her. If Hewg refused to leave this doomed prison over the loss of the greatsword, gods knew what she would have to—
"Alright."
Malenia breathed a sigh of relief inside. Ash nodded approvingly.
"Thank you, smithing-master," he rumbled. "I shall fetch Roderika. Malenia, would you follow me?"
Blinking at the unexpected request, she agreed. Ash led her out of the east wing and into the heart of the Hold where Roderika awaited them.
"He wants to speak with you," Ash informed the girl. Her eyes widened; without a word, she dashed back where he and Malenia had just been. The valkyrie followed her with her eyes until she disappeared round the bend before turning to face Ash.
"You wished to be alone with me?" she quizzed. Ash nodded.
"There's something I'd like to discuss," he said, then gave a small shrug. "That, and—"
He was cut off when a loud gasp emanated from the hall to their flank, followed by a joyful cry.
"I wanted to allow them some privacy," he continued. It seemed Roderika's elation was contagious, for Malenia heard it in the Tarnished's voice; her own heart lifted at the sound.
"As for you," Ash declared, "We need to get your gown in order."
As soon as he said that, it occurred to Malenia just how hot the flames of the Hold felt on her back, where her golden attire had been torn to ribbons by their battle against the Dragonlord. In spite of the sweltering heat, she felt her cheeks grow even warmer.
"And how exactly will we do that?" she asked. "Hewg is a smith, not a seamster."
"I know someone who is."
"Wha—of course. Who don't you know?"
Ash shrugged. "Queen Marika?"
"Fair play."
The approaching sound of boots on wood issued from the east wing. Roderika appeared in the hallway hand-in-hand with Hewg. The girl's normally subdued expression shone in the light of the fire and her eyes shimmered almost translucent with tears of joy.
"Hewg agreed to leave this place," she announced. "Thank you, Ash. Thank you—"
She cut herself off with a small sob before sniffing and righting herself.
"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would've done without him."
Ash's reply wasn't directed so much at Roderika as it was the scaly old man stood astride her.
"'Tis good to see you free of your shackles, friend."
Hewg grunted. "Yes, well… to where shall these old feet be off now?"
"Stormveil Castle."
"What?!"
It was Roderika's voice. She stared at Ash with wide, horrified eyes.
"We can't go there!" she protested. "That's the domain of Godrick and… and…"
She swallowed.
"And the spider," she finally finished, sounding as if it took every last ounce of courage to whisper that out. Ash shook his head.
"Godrick is no more," he told her. "A new ruler has taken hold of Stormveil and indeed all of Limgrave. A familiar face—one you helped raise into such a position, Roderika."
Roderika's grimace told Malenia that she still was not so sure. Deciding to speak up, she clarified, "The one who calls herself Nepheli Loux."
At that, Roderika's eyes flashed with recognition.
"I… think I remember?" she reached. "There was a spirit—a mighty one, who held too much pride in his nobility to answer our summons. You went downstairs with the ashes and then Nepheli left soon after."
She tilted her head. "Did that spirit answer to her?" she asked. Ash shrugged.
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "But whatever awaited her in those ashes brought her to the throne of Stormveil where she now resides."
"I see." Roderika spared a quick glance towards Hewg. The old man looked as if he had forgotten how to stand now that he was no longer bound by his chains. Perhaps he had.
"Would you come with us?" Roderika asked. "Just in case…"
"Of course," replied Ash. His helm tilted in Malenia's direction.
"I will handle this," he told her. "In the meantime, would you care to meet my seamster friend?"
Despite the flushing such a question brought to her cheeks, especially with the two onlookers, Malenia nodded.
"So be it," she agreed. "Where is he?"
Ash placed a hand on her chest in a gesture that had become oddly familiar. In the back of Malenia's mind, a spark of grace ignited.
"Right…"
An abandoned room. Dim torches. Somewhere beyond the entrance, a glimmering golden glow.
"... here."
Malenia's feet suddenly left the ground. The image in her head manifested before her eyes; in the time it took for her heart to beat, she was there. She looked around the mid-sized room until she spotted a tiny, rat-faced demi-human huddled against the wall with his hands clasped in a prayer-like pose. The little thing did not appear to be communing with any gods, however; at least, not after he looked up to see her. His eyes widened in fear for a very brief moment before glimmering with recognition.
"I remember you," he said, in a voice just as timid and tiny as young Roderika's. "You and m'lord came through here the other day."
Malenia tilted her head, trying to remember. She recalled when Ash had led a one-armed, disheveled version of herself out of the Caelid hills and across the whole of the Lands Between with Finlay in a mimicry of her and the Leftenant's last moments together. Retracing her steps, she recalled their passage through Leyndell, and the tiny demi-human that eagerly greeted Ash as his Lord—the very demi-human in front of her now.
She nodded at him.
"Boc, was it?" she asked. He nodded, prompting her to continue, "Your Lord sent me here to look for one 'seamster friend' of his."
"That would be me," Boc answered. "Do you require my services?"
Instead of answering, Malenia simply turned and presented the shredded back of her golden dress to him.
"Goodness!" Boc exclaimed softly. "Did you get in a fight with a dragon?!"
"Yes."
"Oh. I see. Well, I don't know what I can do about the broken chainmail, but I can certainly try to patch up that dress. Could you come here, please?"
Malenia approached Boc, who directed her to a somewhat level pile of damaged furniture that the little demi-human was able to climb atop and bring himself level with her shoulders. He deftly took some of the scraps of golden fabric in his hands and gave it a once-over before commenting, "This attire—it's of the demi-gods' make. I can tell. Where did you get this?"
Malenia pursed her lips and mulled the decision to disclose her identity before deciding that this small, meek demi-human—and more importantly, ally to Ash—would struggle immensely to do her any harm.
"From my brother Miquella."
Boc's hands let go of her dress.
"You're Malenia?!" he squawked. This close to her ears, his flabbergasted cry made her wince. He gasped and hurriedly whispered out a dismayed "O-Oh, sorry, sorry…"
"'Tis alright. And yes, I am," she replied.
A long, stunned silence followed. For a moment, Malenia briefly wondered if Boc had heard her before his hands clasped her dress again.
"I see," he said, clearly trying to regain his composure. "Well, I do have this golden needle and thread here. It should allow me to work on godly garments like these."
"Thank you, Boc," Malenia said in earnest.
"O-Of course. Any friend of m'lord is a friend of mine. Besides, I'd be a right fool to turn down an opportunity to stitch new threads for royalty… That maille beneath this dress should keep you safe from my needle, but please try to keep still nevertheless."
She nodded and settled into place as Boc got to work.
"Alright, I think that's the best I can do with what I have."
Malenia stepped away from Boc's improvised workstation and turned around to face him. She didn't feel like taking off the dress for inspection in front of him, but from what she could tell, the holes and gashes in the fabric had been largely sealed. She nodded at Boc, who looked away.
"I know it's not the best," he stammered out. "I don't have the best materials with me at the moment."
"'Tis certainly much better than what afforded me before," Malenia assured. "You have my thanks, Boc."
"My pleasure, mistress."
"Malenia will suffice."
She looked at Boc for a moment longer, then tilted her head.
"Ash—our Tarnished friend—he strikes me not as the type to wish regards as a Lord. Why does he have you address him so?"
"Because he was so eager to call me that."
The two of them gave a start at the familiar voice. From the corner of Malenia's eye, Ash appeared.
"M'lord!" Boc exclaimed. The Tarnished waved.
"Good to see you too, Boc," he greeted with a tenderness Malenia rarely heard from him. "Have you fared well since last we spoke?"
"Rest assured, m'lord, I'm just fine."
"Wonderful! Have you shown our friend here your needleworking skills?"
As Malenia turned and presented Boc's work to Ash, the seamster looked down and blustered "Y-Yes, well… I did the best I could with what I had. Godly garments aren't easy to work, even with this needle you gave me."
"It seems fine and well from where I stand," Ash commented. "Good work, Boc."
"Th-Thank you, m'lord."
"What say you?"
Malenia realized Ash was speaking to her. "Good work indeed," she echoed. To Boc, she added, "I wonder what wonders you would be capable of with a proper workshop."
"I am honored to hear that from you, Malenia." Then, "M'lord, how did you come to meet her?"
"A grievous amount of combat," Ash replied. "I'd love to share the story, but I believe at this moment that our Empyrean friend would like to return home."
Malenia nodded. "Yes."
"Going already, m'lord?" Boc asked as he opened his sewing kit and slid the golden needle inside. "Please, do be safe on your journeys."
"I will be back soon enough, little one," Ash reassured as he walked up to Malenia and placed his hand on her chest. A familiar image took shape behind her eyes and the same airy feeling from before overtook her before the ground beneath her feet changed and the facsimile became reality. She found herself standing before a doorway that led to the staircase outside of her resting place.
The sight stirred up a sudden swell of emotions in her.
"What will you do now?" she found herself asking. Ash was silent for a moment before replying, in a contemplative voice, "What I was called to this land to do."
"What awaits you, as King of the Dark Moon?"
Ash had made his way to the lip of the staircase ahead, but at that question, he gave pause.
"I'm not quite sure," he admitted. "But whatever it is, I won't greet it as a King, or a Lord. When the Elden Ring has been dissolved and the Greater Will's power over this land sapped, my part in all this will have been played."
"Who will rule this land if not you and her?"
She wasn't quite ready to dignify her with her name just yet.
"That is not for me to decide. Together, the people of the Lands Between can rebuild the throne as they would have it—they, and no one else. Though…"
His voice lowered, as if he were no longer talking to her.
"I suppose in some small way, I've already made my choice… How is Finlay?"
Malenia gave a start at the sudden remark. With a slight sense of importance, she caught up with Ash as he resumed his walk down the stairs.
"It has been some time," Ash went on. "I do hope the Leftenant is still here."
Malenia nodded and shuffled down the stairs. Coming to the bottom, she immediately saw the great cocoon that housed her dear brother, nestled firmly into roots that snaked around them in splintered patterns—the resting spot it was always meant to occupy, damaged and desecrated by the Lord of Blood. Below that sat her humble throne, flanked on one side by the shimmering spirit of Leftenant Finlay.
And on the other, a gold-clad knight who stared unflinchingly at the sword Finlay held inches from her face.
Malenia's reaction was instant. Sparks flew from her sword. Her feet carried her like the wings of butterflies that once burst forth from her back. She sprinted straight for the stranger, who didn't seem to notice her presence until her hand seized her upper arm and yanked her backwards. With a soft, feminine cry, the knight rolled along the floor, quickly finding her feet as Malenia firmly planted herself between the stranger and the cocoon, joining Finlay in thrusting her sword towards her sternum.
"Step back!" she barked.
The stranger did not react right away—at least, not with any sense of urgency. Standing up, she dusted off the pale gilded cloak that blanketed her armor and fixed Malenia in an expressionless stare.
"General Malenia," she observed. Her voice whistled like wind from her helm—delicately and gently, but with a cold to it that turned some of Malenia's anger to unease.
Unease which quickly became confusion when the knight raised a fist to her heart and offered a polite bow.
"Needle Knight Leda," she declared in that same eerily calm voice. "Devoted soldier to Miquella the Kind—and, as it were, to you."
For the briefest of moments, Malenia's sword faltered.
"Needle Knight…?" she echoed under her breath. She had heard that name before, long ago. Gold-adorned warriors who once served alongside her Cleanrot Knights. Warriors who only answered to her in the wake of Miquella's long slumber. Warriors who stayed behind when she declared war on Radahn, but were all gone when she returned. They had left on a journey to… to…
Malenia grimaced. A journey to what? Where had they gone? She tried to think, but nothing came to her.
"I remember your kind," she said, halfway to herself. "But…"
She straightened. Her blade raised towards Leda's face once more.
"What happened to all of you?" she demanded.
"While you journeyed with your soldiers into the heart of Caelid, we Needle Knights followed Kindly Miquella into the Realm of Shadow," said Leda.
Malenia balked.
"The Shadowlands?" she repeated.
Before Leda could answer, another long sword appeared at her back. Ash had finally caught up and placed himself firmly between the entrance to the great room and Leda, who tilted her helm in his direction.
"Ahh, another," she observed, unfazed by the three blades all pointed at her. "Were you guided here by Kindly Miquella?"
Malenia flicked her sword, pulling Leda's attention back towards her.
"My brother journeyed to the Realm of Shadow?" she drilled. "When? How?"
At this, Leda seemed the slightest bit perplexed.
"That was always the plan, was it not?" she asked. "You set things in motion with your journey to Caelid and so Kindly Miquella set off on a journey of his own."
"What? No!" Malenia stared at Leda like she had grown a second head. "I fought Radahn on behalf of—"
She swallowed the sour lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat.
"On behalf of Ranni," she finished through closed teeth.
"She's right." Finlay's voice turned both their heads. "I was there when Milady met the witch. The Caelid war was of her design."
Leda shook her head.
"No, that can't be right," insisted the Needle Knight. "Our kind Lord was the one who sent you off to war. I stood alongside him while it happened—ahh, wait."
It seemed a realization had dawned upon Leda. She hummed in thought for a moment, then said, "I believe I may know what is causing you to misremember, General."
Malenia squeezed her sword.
"I am misremembering nothing," she insisted. "Do not try my patience, Needle Knight."
Leda tilted her head; despite her face being hidden by her helm, the subtle knowingness of that gesture made Malenia doubt her own convictions for a second.
"I could try to explain it to you," she offered, "but I'd imagine you would rather hear the words from Kindly Miquella himself."
"I would rather not wait for my brother to awaken from his slumber to find out," Malenia bit back. "So either you tell me right now or—"
"Kindly Miquella's slumber has been over for quite some time."
"Trifle not with me, woman!" Malenia snapped. "Do you not see the cocoon behind us? It has been days, days, since I wrested him from the clutches of the Lord of Blood and—"
"Ahh, so it was you who moved Kindly Miquella's husk."
Malenia's heart skipped a beat. Biting back a gasp, she hid her shock behind an angry step forward that had the tip of her blade kissing Leda's helm.
"You knew of my brother's imprisonment?" she hissed.
"It was never an imprisonment," Leda denied. "Mohg was simply another piece of the puzzle."
"You mean to say Miquella intended to suffer at the hands of Mohg? Have you spent all your absence losing your mind?!"
"Rest assured, General Malenia, your brother never once suffered. As soon as he was placed upon the Throne of Blood, he absconded to the Realm of Shadow. Besides, the charm placed on Mohg would have prevented him from harming Kindly Miquella anyhow."
Malenia shook her head.
"Impossible," she growled. "When I faced Mohg, Miquella was there with me. I felt his presence reaching for me. I heard him urging me onwards and begging to free him from his tortured state!"
"A part of the charm, perhaps. Docile or not, Mohg had to die for Kindly Miquella to continue his journey."
The point of Malenia's sword slipped through the visor of Leda's helm. With a flick of her wrist, she wrenched the helm free from its place upon her shoulders. It flipped to the side and fell to the ground below, exposing the pale, golden face beneath. Malenia's sword placed itself right at the space between Leda's eyes.
"My brother would never place a charm on me," she growled. Her true hand balled up into a fist and she swallowed the creeping urge to pierce Leda's skull right then and there. "Do not speak such heresy in my presence."
"Kindly Miquella will be able to explain it better than I will, it seems," Leda observed. "If you wish to hear the truth from him, I am sure he would graciously provide."
"My brother is asleep," Malenia repeated. Leda's gaze tilted towards the cocoon and she gestured towards it.
"You may find him for yourself if you so desire," she offered. "Touch the withered arm, and you will be transported to the Realm of Shadow, where Miquella the Kind now dwells."
Malenia said nothing. In the hot silence, one could hear how tense her breathing had become, filtering through a clenched jaw in large, rapid motions. Malenia herself could hear her heartbeat in her ears and feel the way her stomach turned with all sorts of fiery sensations. She held still, sword stiffly pointed towards Leda, who had just about nowhere to go on account of the other two blades placed in similar positions around her.
After a long moment, she spoke.
"Ash," she muttered with a low, dark grit to the command. The Tarnished nodded.
"Before you continue on your journey, I ask of you one last favor."
"Of course."
Malenia flicked her head in the direction of the cocoon.
"Touch my brother's arm and see for yourself," she quietly ordered. "That way I won't have to let this conniving bitch out of my sight."
Ash shimmied towards the cocoon, careful not to let Leda out of his sight and careful not to run into Finlay's blade. Ducking under the slender sword, he walked past Malenia and just beyond her field of vision until he stood before Miquella's oversized husk of an arm. Silence followed, one that was broken a few seconds later by a gasp from Finlay. At the end of her sword, Leda's eyes flashed and a soft, knowing smile turned the corners of her lips.
Malenia's heart hammered in her chest. She licked her dry lips and squeezed her sword as she rasped out, "Ash?"
Nothing.
"Ash, answer me," she called again. It was Finlay who responded.
"He's gone, Milady," she said in a voice ringing with amazement and just a hint of fear. "H-He touched Lord Miquella's arm and—he simply vanished."
Malenia said nothing. The only sign of her reaction was the sight of her sword beginning to tremble in her grasp.
With Ash's blade no longer at her back, Leda took a step away from the two still facing her. Despite herself, Malenia did not advance with her. Leda gestured again towards Miquella's cocoon.
"Touch the withered arm," she implored. "You will not be alone in the Land of Shadow. My compatriots are there already. Like us, they have heard Kindly Miquella's call. If you can find them, they are certain to lend you aid."
Malenia lowered her sword. She kept her wide eyes fixed on Leda, who did the same even as she bent down to retrieve her lost helm.
A whirlwind of questions raised through her mind, each one its own emotion that gripped her stomach with deathrune claws and sent jolts through her hammering heart. Why was Leda here? Who was she? Why did her reality differ from Malenia's own? Where was Ash? Was Miquella there? If he was, whose voice had she heard in her head in her battle against Mohg? Where did her war with Radahn fit into all this?
What was happening?
Malenia's breaths began to stagger. She began to back away from Leda, as if perturbed by the blank stare of her helm, until she bumped into the cocoon above her. With a hand that shook like a puppy in the cold, she reached towards Miquella's arm.
"Milady, wait!"
Finlay's voice snapped Malenia out of her daze. Her eyes flitted from Leda to the Cleanrot Knight.
"Let me join you," Finlay beseeched. Her voice, ghostly though it was, carried a vivacious warble to it—a tremble that matched Malenia's. "I…"
She stopped and flicked her gaze back to Leda for just a moment. The slender thrusting sword she brandished was unsteady and her scythe was too busy being used as a walking cane while the knight struggled to keep herself balanced.
"I need to know the truth," she finally finished. "I know what I heard on the day you met with the witch. But if Lord Miquella truly dwells in the Land of Shadow—if there is some plan of his to which even his noble blade was not made privy…"
She shuddered.
"I need to know," she repeated.
The spirit-calling bell still rested on the arm of her throne. Without a word, Malenia scooped it up in the crook of her prosthetic's elbow, sparing Finlay and Leda one last uneasy glance before placing her hand on her brother's.
The last thing she heard before her mind went dark was Leda's voice.
"I will not be far behind. May we meet again."
Malenia wasn't sure how long she had been unconscious. When she came to, she found herself in an empty alcove—but not the same one that housed her brother. Rocks surrounded her on all sides while the flowers at her feet had been replaced with grass of a deep amber. The light of Elphael was gone, replaced by the glow of a single toppled lantern at the other end of the grotto.
Malenia hadn't moved for a solid minute, frozen in place by the cacophony in her mind. Eventually, however, she staggered forth, finding a small stone staircase leading to the unmistakable rays of daybreak beyond this tiny hole in the wall. Cresting the top of the stairs, however, she saw not the sun, nor the light of the Erdtree—only its shadow.
Rays of light hung bent like curtains from the pitch-black branches of what could only be the Scadutree. The ugly, twisted malaise mentioned only by the hushed whispers of her mother when she thought no one was listening. A seemingly impossible thing, shrouding the very center of the Lands Between that cowered under the shadow of the Erdtree.
Here before her now, towering over the Land of Shadow.
Malenia felt unsteady on her feet. She took the spirit-calling bell and gave it a loud ring. Finlay materialized at her side, whereupon she promptly fell into the knight's chest. She caught her general with a grunt of surprise.
"Milady, are you alright?" she stammered.
"M-Miquella…" the Empyrean gasped. "Leda… she—"
She swallowed.
"She was right," she continued. "Miquella is here."
She didn't want to believe it. It didn't make any sense. Not a single thing about this added up. But if Miquella was home at the foot of the Haligtree where he belonged, then why did his grace whisk her off to the forsaken Shadow Realm?
"M-Miquella…" she rasped again. Finlay's hands squeezed her shoulders as the knight gently hoisted Malenia to her feet.
"Stay strong, Milady," she implored. "Whatever is going on, I am certain Miquella intended for this. Our kindly Lord would never deceive his loyal blade."
Malenia nodded.
"Of course," she agreed. "But I don't…"
"That is why we are here." Finlay spoke as if she knew what her general was poised to say. "If Lord Miquella is with us in this land, then so are the answers."
She squeezed Malenia's shoulders again, making sure her feet were firmly planted in the earth.
"We will find him, Milady," she assured. "With I, Ash, and Farron at your side, nothing will stop us."
Malenia's gaze drifted out to the rolling hills that stretched before her. Between the sinister Scadutree, the imposing keep that stood tall at its base, the spiral-shaped shadow-bound city in the distance that touched the sky, and the myriad of ruins and destruction that scattered the plains ahead, what caught her eyes most was the lone knight resting at the foot of the hill. As if sensing her gaze, his black helm turned to face her. A thorn-clad hand raised, beckoning his friend over.
Malenia swallowed. A part of her screamed to ignore Ash's command, to wheel around and retreat—to flee back to the embrace of the Haligtree and sit waiting for Miquella's awakening. But the simple fact that she stood here now meant that Miquella was already awake somewhere deep in the heart of this abandoned, war-ravaged land. He would only return when his work here was done—what that work was, Malenia could not even begin to fathom. Only by taking the plunge could she come to know here and now, before Miquella's quest led him to… wherever it was taking him.
Looking back towards Finlay, she nodded. Recalling their wretched reunion in the wailing dunes, she echoed the Leftenant's words back to her.
"My brother awaits," she said. "Let us bring him home."
Finlay fell in line beside her as she took a step towards Ash. After a second, however, a realization crossed Malenia's mind.
"Leftenant," she summoned.
"Yes, Milady?"
"Just now, you mentioned someone by the name of Farron."
She looked over her shoulder at the knight. "Who is that?"
"Oh," Finlay said, as if the answer were obvious. "That would be the name of Ash's sword."
Malenia scrunched up her nose. "His sword has a name?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't he?"
Malenia stopped.
"... What do you mean he?"
THE END
