A/N: Please read this note, would you kindly? Its important and contains my update schedule. Were it not for Dark, I wouldn't even be able to do this.
I'm well aware that this -and Take the World- are some of our less popular Elden Ring stories. Even so, I hope someone, somewhere enjoys them.
Being sick -and these infernal site glitches!- have decimated me for the time being. Apologies. I'll update what I can, when I can, but it may be touch and go for a bit. Apples and Atoms, Running to the Edge, Breath of Fresh Air, Long May He Reign, Elden Ring, Claws of a Lion, Gotta Adopt 'em All, and I Want it All are looking likely thus far.
I've not forgotten the others, Everything else needs time in the oven, and the week is still ongoing. Here's hoping I improve.
Every review truly does help, large or small, anything is better than nothing at all.
Every bit of feedback is the wind beneath my wings, so...please...?
I know its weak of me to ask, but it truly does lift my spirits...
Just wanted to say, I appreciate you all! More feedback means faster updates! It's especially important, in these, trying times, with the main site notifications down. Every word counts and i appreciate you all! All these reviews really keep me inspired! Looking forward to hearing from you~!
As ever, I own no references, quotes, themes or memes. They're tributes to legends far greater than little 'ol me.
I'm just a humble author trying to make his way in this wild world, one word at a time.
Time and feedback will determine if this remains a story. Simple as that.
In other words...its up to YOU, the reader. Do let me know~!
SPOILERS FOR SHADOWS OF THE ERDTREE AHEAD!
"Beware the blade which offers mercy...
...you may regret it."
~?
Scarlet Invasion
Rain fell upon Liurnia in a fine mist, draping the academy spires in a shroud of grey. The waters of the great lake swelled and roared, its banks crawling with the banners of the invading hosts. From the east came the warbands of the Badlands, hoarse-throated warriors who had long dwelt beyond the golden gaze of the Erdtree. From the west, the black sails of the Carian loyalists, embittered knights and mages who had refused the capital's call. And from the south, the vengeful remnants of Godrick's shattered forces, seeking plunder where once they had sought dominion.
Yet even as the rivers ran red and the keepers of the academy threw their feeble spells against the tide, the scarlet standard rose above them all.
At the mountain's peak, where the winds howled and the heavens bled, three figures stood against the grey horizon. Behind them, a legion waited in grim silence, warriors from different walks of life now bound by a singular purpose. Naruto, the stormborn warrior, wrapped in the golden aura of his unyielding will, gazed down upon the battlefield. Beside him, Messmer the Impaler, a presence of cold calculation, his dark cloak whipping in the wind, spoke in low tones with Godfrey, the First Elden Lord, who towered over them both, the lion's head upon his back a silent guardian of old glories.
"There is no turning back after this," Messmer murmured, his crimson eyes scanning the land below. "Once we begin, we do not stop until the walls fall."
Godfrey crossed his arms, his golden mane catching the wind. "Aye. This war will define the ages. But only one name will stand above all when the dust settles." He turned his gaze to the lone figure standing apart from them.
Malenia.
She stood with her back straight, her hands resting upon the hilt of her blade. Her golden eyes burned with quiet resolve. The mist clung to her, as though hesitant to touch one who carried the weight of destiny upon her shoulders.
Naruto exhaled, stepping forward. "This is your battle now."
Messmer nodded. "Command them. Lead them to the gates. We will follow."
Godfrey gave a small, approving nod, his gaze unwavering. "Show them why you are The Scarlet Queen."
Malenia turned to face them, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she stepped past them, raising her sword high.
The legion behind her knelt as one.
With that silent decree, the storm descended upon Liurnia.
War followed in her wake.
(.0.0.0.)
At the heart of the carnage, amidst the rubble of broken towers and shattered glyphstones, Malenia stood poised on the edge of a ruined causeway. Below, the battlefield stretched in a chaos of steel and sorcery. The forces of the Academy, clad in sapphire robes and silvered armor, fought with all the might of their arcane heritage. Blue flames surged from their staffs, crashing against the golden shields of the Badlands warriors and the piercing volleys of the Carian knights.
A figure moved through the heart of the battle like a phantom—a blur of crimson and gold weaving through ranks of men and mages alike. Naruto tore through the battlefield with the speed of a falling star, his golden chakra flashing with every movement. His hands moved in a blur of sigils, sending streaks of raw energy crashing into the arcane barriers of the defenders. The runes flickered and shattered under the weight of his power, and the walls of the Academy trembled.
From above, upon the fractured battlements, Godfrey watched the tide of battle with a warrior's keen eye. His arms were folded, but his great-axe rested against the stones beside him, waiting. Behind him, Messmer stood in silence, his face unreadable beneath the flickering torches.
"She fights without hesitation," Messmer murmured, watching as Malenia descended the steps of the Grand Library, her blade a river of scarlet light. "No hesitation, no doubt."
Godfrey smirked, rolling his shoulders. "Aye. She was made for this." His golden eyes gleamed as he turned to the battlefield. "But the true test has yet to come."
A tremor shook the air, and for a moment, the battlefield stilled. A great rune flickered to life above the Academy, a beacon of cold moonlight against the storm. The remnants of the Carian royal guard drew back, their ranks reforming beneath the grand sigil. The rain intensified, shimmering with the radiance of sorcery.
Then, the sky itself cracked open.
A great spiral of azure light descended from the heavens, striking the heart of the battlefield with the force of a divine edict. The very air trembled as waves of sorcerous might rippled outward, washing over the combatants like an unrelenting tide. Warriors of the Badlands faltered, their weapons turning to lead in their hands, their armor dragging them down as though the weight of the cosmos itself had settled upon their shoulders. Even Naruto felt his footing slip for a moment, the sheer gravity of the magic pressing against his senses. He steadied himself, sharp eyes snapping skyward.
A great luminous sigil burned in the heavens, a full moon of arcane splendor, its silver light casting elongated shadows across the battlefield. It was a sight that demanded reverence, an omen of power beyond mortal reckoning.
"Well," Naruto murmured, brushing dust from his cloak as he turned to Messmer. "Looks like someone finally decided to intervene." He tilted his head. "You know who that is?"
Messmer said nothing, but a voice rose beside him, answering in his stead.
"There is only one capable of such a feat."
Naruto turned to see Godfrey, the First Elden Lord, standing tall amid the storm of sorcery, his golden mane stirring in the arcane winds. His tone carried the weight of memory, of recognition, of a battle once fought long ago.
"The Carian Queen," Godfrey intoned, his hand tightening on his axe. "The one who fought Radagon to a standstill." His eyes, forged in countless wars, gleamed with something akin to respect.
"Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon."
(.0.0.0.)
Far from the battlefield, upon the shattered steps of the Grand Library—a place where once the greatest scholars had gathered to decipher the mysteries of the cosmos—stood Malenia.
The soft patter of rain drummed against her armor, streaking rivulets down the gleaming gold and crimson steel. Her long braid, heavy with dampness, clung to her back, yet her stance was unmoved, her golden eyes locked upon the last defenders of the Grand Library.
They stood before her, trembling in their tattered robes, the conjured winds of their desperate sorcery swirling around them. Their hands glowed with the last remnants of magic they could muster, but it would not be enough. They knew it. She knew it.
And yet, as they prepared to make their final stand, the hushed whisper of silk brushing against stone stilled them.
A voice, soft yet unyielding, rang through the rain-drenched air like a bell tolling over a silent lake.
"Enough. Stand aside."
The scholars turned as a figure emerged from the looming archways, stepping forth with the grace of one who had once commanded the heavens themselves.
Rennala, Queen of the Full Moon.
Her cerulean robes, dampened by rain and dusted with the remnants of shattered glass, trailed behind her as she walked. Her golden hair, once woven into the regal coronet of a queen, now hung loose, cascading in waves of moonlight over her shoulders. She moved with an air of faded majesty, a relic of the past given form, her presence both haunting and sublime.
Yet it was her eyes that struck deepest—a hollow ocean of grief and shattered dreams. The madness that had once consumed her flickered at the edges, but something within her had stirred awake, something ancient and unbroken.
Malenia watched her with the patience of a warrior who had only ever known war.
"You will not yield, then?"
For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy with meaning. Then, beneath the rain-soaked ruins, a ghost of the queen Rennala had once been flickered to life. She lifted her chin, her fragile voice steady.
"I am the last of my house," she murmured. "I will not bow to a butcher."
She was mad, yes, insane, but not so mad as to allow a blade to pierce her heart.
A flicker of something passed through Malenia's expression, disquieting her heart. Pity, perhaps. Or something even more fleeting. A memory, a reflection of another queen, another woman who had once stood defiant against an impossible foe.
Perhaps it was only the wind.
In the end, she knew it mattered not.
Malenia exhaled softly and reached for her blade.
Scarlet rot stirred within her veins, seething beneath the surface, whispering its inevitable hunger.
She restrained it, keeping her power tightly leashed. "Then we end this here."
The duel began as all such duels do—in silence.
Rain fell in steady sheets, drumming against stone and steel alike, a solemn hymn for the two warriors poised at the heart of the ruined library. No war cries. No words. Only the quiet understanding that one of them would not walk away.
Rennala lifted a hand, and the air itself shuddered. The space around her warped like a mirage, bending light into spirals of iridescent runes that swam at her fingertips. Arcane sigils bloomed, shifting in slow, deliberate arcs, the very fabric of sorcery bending to her will.
Malenia moved before the first spell had even formed.
She was a whisper of motion, her feet skimming the slick stone with near-soundless precision, the crimson edge of her blade gleaming in the storm's pale light. A sorcerous tempest erupted between them in answer, bolts of raw starlight descending like the wrath of an unseen cosmos.
The ground where Malenia had stood turned black beneath the onslaught.
She was already gone.
Rennala wove her magic with the ease of a master weaver at her loom. Comets coalesced above her, shimmering with the light of unborn galaxies, each one tracing a deadly arc toward its target. Ethereal stars bloomed into existence, their brilliance casting long, dancing shadows against the library's ruined threshold.
But Malenia did not falter.
She danced between the ruin of Rennala's conjurations, slipping through death as though it were an old companion. Her form flickered, a ghost of red and gold slicing through the storm of azure light. Her blade—longer than any mortal reach should allow—sang as it carved a path through magic itself, dispersing bolts of sorcery with the sheer force of her will.
One step. Then two. Then three.
And she was upon the queen.
Their clash rang out like the toll of a great iron bell. The first strike shattered against the queen's shimmering barrier, sending ripples of golden light cascading outward. The second carved a jagged fracture across the shield, its edges spider-webbing like ice beneath a boot-heel.
Her third broke through.
The force sent Rennala stumbling, her breath hitching as the magic around her wavered. Malenia did not pause.
Waterfowl Dance.
Three strokes, then three more, each strike a blur too fast for the eye to follow, too precise to be anything but deliberate. The first shattered Rennala's staff into splinters of arcane wood, the remnants of her power spilling into the air like dying embers. The second sent her reeling, her once-regal robes torn, the silver thread stained red.
The third would have taken her life.
Should have taken her life.
But at the final moment—Malenia hesitated.
Not from exhaustion, nor from failure, but something deeper. Some lingering fragment of memory, an echo of the past whispering through her mind. Perhaps it was honor. Perhaps it was mercy. Or perhaps it was only the shadow of a brother who had died by her hand, a wound she could never allow to heal.
That single heartbeat of hesitation was enough.
Rennala collapsed.
Her breath left her in a thin, reedy sigh, her form crumpling upon the rain-slicked stones. The Grand Library, once a place of knowledge, bore witness to the fall of its last queen. Her once-proud robes, embroidered with the constellations of an empire lost to time, pooled around her like the last retreating tide. Blood painted her lips—whether from the wounds upon her body or the breaking of her mind, none could say.
The storm above rumbled its quiet verdict.
Malenia stood over her fallen foe, silent, unreadable. The crimson rot within her pulsed, whispering for her to finish it, to claim what was rightfully hers.
But she did not move.
She only watched as the light in Rennala's eyes flickered, then dimmed, like a waning moon swallowed by the dark.
The duel had ended as it began.
Silence settled over the ruined courtyard, thick as the mist rolling in from the lakes beyond. The battle was over, but the echoes of its fury still lingered in the hushed breaths of those who remained.
The scholars, who had stood frozen in horror as their queen fell, now clutched at their robes, their hands trembling, murmuring prayers that neither gods nor stars would answer. Warriors who had been prepared to fight to their last breath now stared at the scene before them, their weapons lowered, their will to resist drained away like ink upon wet parchment.
And then—a sound.
Soft. Trembling. Almost childlike.
Rennala stirred.
Her frail hand, pale and blood-smeared, reached outward, fingers curling as though trying to grasp something unseen. Her dimming eyes found Malenia's face, and in their cloudy depths, something flickered—recognition, madness, or both.
Her breath came in thin, fragile wisps.
"My daughter."
The words fell from her lips like autumn leaves, brittle and lost to the wind. Her fingers stretched toward Malenia, brushing the empty space between them as though it were a cradle that once held a child.
"You have come back to me."
Malenia's grip on her sword tightened. The rain traced slow lines down the golden sheen of her armor, collecting in the joints like tears unshed.
What madness was this?
"I am not—"
"Shhh."
Rennala smiled, a frail, broken thing, and the motion cracked her lips. Blood welled at the edges, unnoticed, unimportant. Her gaze was unfocused, lost somewhere in the past.
"It is you. My child. My golden daughter."
Her voice was a whisper, but it carried through the stillness, curling around Malenia like an unseen chain.
"How bright you shine… how cruel the years have been…"
The scholars wept. Some knelt. Others clutched at one another, their tears mingling with the rain. They had seen their queen fade, her mind slipping into shadows over the years, but now, at the end, she had found something to hold onto—however false, however fleeting.
Malenia did not move.
Her blade remained at her side, its crimson edge gleaming like an unfulfilled promise. She could end this. She should end this.
But she did not.
Not as Rennala reached for her with hands that had once held the cosmos in their grasp. Not as the broken queen murmured lullabies to the storm, singing to a child who had never returned.
For all her strength, Malenia was powerless before a mother's love—however misplaced, however broken.
The great Malenia, Scarlet queen, unchallenged in war, undefeated in battle, stood frozen beneath the weight of something she could not fight.
Rennala's hands found her shoulder, frail fingers curling against cold, unyielding steel. She wept into Malenia's armor, her sobs quiet, weary, as though mourning something even she did not fully understand.
Malenia did not pull away.
She could feel the queen's trembling against her, could hear the fragile words slipping between breaths—apologies for things neither of them could name, regrets spoken to a daughter who was not there.
The last embers of battle faded.
The warriors of Liurnia, those who had once stood defiant in the name of their queen, now knelt before the Scarlet Reign. Not in worship. Not in surrender. But in quiet resignation, bowing their heads to a fate they could no longer defy.
The rain fell. The moon, vast and silent, watched from above.
And Malenia, the exile, the cursed, the heir to nothing and no one, stood in the ruins of her enemy's kingdom, victorious.
But she did not know if she had won.
Or if she had lost.
And for the first time in her life, she was afraid to find out.
A/N: Aaaand scene.
Didn't see that coming, did you?
Do you want this to remain a story? Yes? No? Maybe so? Make yourselves heard! Once more, we're sticking with the "Embers" rule for this particular story, and others. I'm working two jobs -might need a third soon!- so I barely have time to write; as such, I cannot afford to write something folks don't enjoy.
So by all means, speak up! Your voice matters! Make yourself heard! As ever, reviews are the fuel that sustain me. Without them I cannot write a single word. Simple as that. Working nearly all hours of the day keep me absurdly busy, and I can't bring myself to write something folks don't like.
Aaaand there we go. As ever, reviews keep me alive. Without them, I cannot write. So...in the Immortal Words of Atlas...
...Review...Would You Kindly? No previews this time. Chaos approaches...and it may take the world.
Looking forward to chatting with you all when I get back from work~!
Warm regards,
~Nz.