Chapter Text
The last time Malenia had wept, was when she awoke one morning to complete darkness.
At first, the realization was lost to her. She rubbed her eyes, supposing she had merely awoken in the night. But as the seconds drew on, and no shapes began to emerge from the blackness, her mind began to piece together the horrible truth. She held up her hand in front of her face. But she could see nothing.
“Miquella?” she called, a tremor in her voice as her heart began to pound. “What is the hour?”
Across the room, she heard the rustle of bedclothes as their occupant stirred, and her brother’s drowsy murmur reached her ears. “Mm?...‘Tis near to dawn, it seemeth. Why?”
Dawn. Even at the dead of night and with the drapes drawn, she would still have been able to glimpse the Erdtree’s light peeking in around the edges. Yet all around her was only blackness. The awful truth solidified in Malenia’s mind.
“I cannot see!” she wailed, clutching at her face. “I cannot see!”
Miquella was fully awake and out of bed at once, nearly tripping over his own nightclothes as he rushed to his sister’s side. Her cries drew the attention of a chambermaid passing in the hallway outside, and an order from the nascent Empyrean sent her flying through Leyndell’s airy corridors, the dawn’s peace shattered.
Malenia clutched at her brother with desperate hands, her eyes wide and terrified as they strained for a glimpse of golden hair, anything to remove the horrible abyss which now loomed before her. She was deaf to Miquella’s attempts to comfort her, unable to form coherent words beyond repeating over and over, “I cannot see, I cannot see!”
Her commotion soon had the whole household in an uproar. It was not long before the door again burst open, and fiery-haired Radagon stood there, barefoot and tousled as though he too had just rolled out of bed, the frightened chambermaid cowering behind him. Nevertheless, his voice was as strong as ever as he commanded, “Miquella, move aside.”
Malenia cried out in protest as her brother’s presence left her side, but her father’s swiftly replaced it, a strong grasp prying her hands away from her face. She gripped the Elden Lord’s arms as he tipped her head back to peer beneath both eyelids. All the while she kept crying out, “It is dark! Father, it is so dark! I am frightened!”
Radagon gathered his daughter to himself, issuing a few swift orders to the chambermaid with a Lord’s efficiency. Only after she was gone did he allow the kingly mask to partially drop. A tremor wracked him, and Miquella standing beside him perceived a pain passing through their father’s eyes so unique that mortal tongue could scarcely tell of it. Even so, the Elden Lord fixed his full attention on his daughter weeping inconsolably in his arms, pressing her to his heart as he tried in vain to soothe her despondent cries.
Malenia held onto her father as though he was the only anchor keeping her from plunging into the abyss. Sob after sob wrenched from her lungs. It must be some dream, some awful nightmare. The truth was too horrible to conceive. Her eyes roved, unseeing, but instead of a glimpse of light, the darkness seemed only to grow deeper.
For the first time in her life, Malenia knew she was truly cursed.
The next couple of days were comprised of sweltering, miserable heat. The Liurnian summer was well upon them, the sunlight reflecting off the lake in fractals so dazzling that Finlay and Loretta were both obliged to wear their helmets in order to keep from being fully blinded. Malenia too wore her winged helm to keep the sun off her head, but even her lighter armor compared to the two knights could not prevent a sheen of sweat from breaking out upon her otherwise stoic countenance. Loretta’s horse frothed at the mouth, and frequently dipped its head to take a drink of the cool lake waters, the only relief to the three travelers.
Finlay’s strength had returned quickly. She resumed her duty of pulling the cart, puffing as she sloshed through the calf-deep waters, but grateful of her ability to do so. Nevertheless, she would be glad when they left the lake country behind. Having wet feet from sunup to sundown had long overstayed its welcome. The feeling of her soaked stockings scrunching inside her boots was more unpleasant than it had any right to be.
Raya Lucaria was now behind them, and though it was slight, Finlay thought she saw the shores drawing closer together far in the distance, the landscape rising from gently rolling hills back into jagged cliffs. Somewhere beyond those cliffs lay Dectus with its mighty lift, but this was not where the travelers would be headed. No, they made for a series of mining tunnels, which Loretta had promised would lead them up the perilous heights all the way to the Altus Plateau.
“So, Finn, what is your story?”
Finlay blinked, Loretta’s words breaking her from her musings. “My story?” she echoed dumbly.
The Albinauric nodded from her perch atop her steed, her silver helm glinting in the sunlight. “Aye. I’ve rattled on quite a bit about my own days gone by; now I wish to hear about you. The lone survivor of Caelid must surely have a story.”
“I am not the lone survivor.” Finlay’s swift correction came out sharper than she meant, and she winced. “Pardon my shortness. I only meant…”
She trailed off, unable to articulate the mix of feelings running through her, and very aware of Malenia listening, but Loretta nodded understanding.
“It is I who must ask your pardon,” said the Albinauric. “I spoke presumptuously. But I am truly interested in hearing the story of your knighthood, if you would suffer to tell it.”
Part of Finlay was glad to not relive Caelid. Even so, she shook her head, not feeling tales of her youth much worth telling.
“My pagehood was much like any other in the Haligtree,” she began. “I learned the histories of the Lands Between, studied wars and battles, and learned the mission of Lord Miquella and his Age of Abundance. When I came of age, I became squire to a knight named Leith to continue my training, being taught in the ways of the sword and the spear. She was a model soldier, a veteran of many battles, and in all my ways I strove to be more like her.”
She gazed off into the shimmering distance as memories took her. “I suppose it all changed during a skirmish in the Gelmir foothills. It was the first time I had traveled so far from the Haligtree. Our company was sent to defend a nearby castle, confident that we would beat back the Gelmir soldiers. But then…”
Even now the sounds were burned into her memory, sending a shiver down her spine in spite of the smothering Liurnian heat. The sound of iron wheels grinding as they crossed stone. The singing of scythes suspended on chains as they whirled in arcs of death.
“We did not know then, of Praetor Rykard’s monstrous machines,” she said at last. “They came upon us so swiftly that we were caught unaware. What they did to those they ensnared…”
She cleared her throat, pressing on before she could dwell too much on the horror. “Lady Leith charged in without hesitation, for she was ever brave and perilous. But I did not know what to do. All my previous training abandoned me in the face of such terror. I am ashamed to say I stood there like a frightened deer as one of those dreadful machines bore down on me. If not for my lady pushing me out of the way, I would have perished.”
Loretta gave a nod, a distaste in her voice that spoke of foul history stretching well beyond Finlay’s tale. “Prince Rykard was always the most troublesome of his siblings, even when I knew him. Such a construct sounds very fitting of him.”
“Though the machines took many lives, they were few in number, and the company adapted, eventually defeating them,” Finlay went on. “I found Lady Leith afterward. She lived, but had sustained grievous wounds. Blood had flowed down her face into her eyes, and she was calling for a healer. I took water from my skin and washed her eyes.”
Finlay’s throat tightened at the memory. “When I was done, she looked up at me and said, ‘I thought I was blind.’ And somehow the smile she gave me was worth more than all the rest of our victory that day.
“I was just strong enough then to lift her on my shoulders. I thought my knees would surely give out as I carried her back to our camp. I had never been so frightened. Every moment I expected more of those machines to come upon us. But I was determined to get her to safety.”
Though she had grown hard to the grief long ago, Finlay’s heart gave a painful beat at her next words. “It was only after we made it back that I discovered she was dead, having perished along the way.”
She gripped the cart handles a little tighter. “I was knighted soon after for my valor in returning her body. But it took me many years to fully accept my station. It seemed to me that I was not deserving of such honor, for I could not save her life. The true heroes were those like her.”
Unused to speaking about herself in such length, Finlay lapsed into silence. It wasn’t as if her story truly mattered. Hundreds of her comrades shared similar experiences. She was but one soldier of an entire army, a single arrow in the quiver of the Haligtree. Or at least, she had been. That she had escaped Caelid with her life did not endow her with any great worth. If anything, it highlighted her weaknesses now that she did not have her fellow soldiers to rely on.
“Yet thou didst save her.”
Finlay turned her head, but her helm obscured her peripheral vision and the Empyrean walking behind her. Confused, she could only reply with a foolish, “What?”
Malenia’s voice came again, not strayed from its usual lowness. “To see the sun one last time...there would be few things in this world more precious.”
A simple reply, and the demigod said no more, but her words caused a tectonic shift in Finlay’s mind. As though something she had not known was hidden was now visible in perfect clarity. Though the grief did not abate, the weight of guilt sat a little lighter on her shoulders.
But with this shift came a small amount of sadness at Malenia’s remark. She could not form reason as to why, but somehow that it was the scarlet Empyrean who spoke such words seemed almost a tragic irony.
The three women traveled on.
The afternoon was well advanced, and Finlay was beginning to wonder if she would melt into a puddle of sweat when Loretta pointed ahead. “There will be our rest this night.”
Squinting through spotty, sweat-blurred eyes, Finlay saw in the distance a tower rising from a sparsely wooded islet. It was the first complete structure they had seen other than the Academy itself, a peaked steeple rising above the hazy waters.
The sun was not quite below the horizon when the three travelers reached the islet. Blue flowers like fallen stars seemed to come aglow as the daylight grew dimmer. To Finlay and Malenia’s surprise, Loretta did not approach the tower entrance, but instead gestured that they make camp in one of the small clusters of trees surrounding the structure. Neither protested, for the evening was pleasant, but both wondered even so.
Once a small meal was taken, Finlay went down to the waterside to wash some of the sweat from herself. The last rays of the sun were just enough for her to see her reflection wavering in the shallows as she combed her hair. In her youth, she had taken great pride in her auburn locks for their resemblance to Malenia, a trait which age and no small amount of bullying from her fellow squires had humbled long ago. Now she only saw the care and grooming as a way to add a little structure to her otherwise chaotic life.
She did not notice Malenia had approached to sit nearby until the Empyrean spoke. “Who else survived?”
It took Finlay a moment to realize what she was talking about. Caelid. The battle. Malenia had lapsed into slumber before she could even assess the outcome.
“In truth, I know not the full sum,” she admitted. “Commander Niall made mention of others, but I departed for the Haligtree almost at once, and did not have the time to check among the wounded.”
“Niall,” Malenia echoed, and Finlay thought she heard an edge of sadness in her lady’s voice. “That he survived doth gladden me. He is a good soldier, but much troubled in his heart. In the Age of Abundance, my lord brother and I would have released him from service to go where he willed, and his son also.”
Finlay did not have the heart to tell her that Niall had likely already released himself from service and was going where he willed. She commented only, “He sent me with his blessing.”
They sat a little longer in amicable silence before Finlay plucked up her courage to ask a question of her own. “Lord Miquella used to braid your hair?”
Malenia’s head turned sharply, as though wondering how she could have come to such a conclusion, before recalling that it was her own words which Finlay was referring to. She gave a begrudging reply. “Aye. Long ago, ‘ere his slumber. There was a time when I would see to such matters mineself. But...”
From the corner of her eye, Finlay saw the Empyrean’s false fingers curling in on themselves. Nevertheless, her voice was as level as ever. “Alas, no longer.”
She arose and moved back to the fire before Finlay could ask further questions. Finlay had not expected her to answer, and was pleasantly surprised that she had, even if her reply garnered yet another twinge of sorrow for her mistress. Her suspicions were all but confirmed. She knew now why the scarlet demigod went into battle with her hair down. A small thing, but how many small things were required before it was no longer small?
Gazing at her wavering reflection in the waters, Finlay studied the pair of eyes looking back at her. Dull, muddy hazel, shot through with the grace of gold. The edges were tinged with a faint red. Exertion, most like, born of pulling a heavy cart all day through the heat. A good night’s rest and she would be ready for anything.
As Finlay turned back to the camp, a flicker caught her eye. High up in the tower window, it seemed for just a moment that something moved, glinted in the evening light like a gemstone.
“Lady Loretta,” Finlay called, “is there someone in the tower?”
The Albinauric turned to look up at the window, which sat empty once more. Her coral eyes were narrow and keen. Finlay wondered if, as a scion of Carian sorcery, her senses were more finely attuned to any magic at work in the area.
“Sorcerer Testu and his class,” Loretta answered at length. “But the door is well sealed. We shall neither disturb, nor be disturbed.”
The way she spoke left Finlay mildly unnerved, as though the tower were sealed not to keep them out, but to keep its apparent occupants in. Nevertheless, she had faith in the Albinauric’s words, and tried not to put too much thought to the matter. With Loretta taking the first watch, knight and Empyrean slept.
Finlay’s dreams were troubled. The tower stood over her like a monolith, black in the moonlight. She lay as though paralyzed, unable to move her limbs, yet her sleeping mind could not command her to wake.
Then she became aware of the presence.
From whence it came, she could not say. It was as though it had appeared from the fabric of the dream itself. She could not make out its form; only an intangible, globe-like shape suffused in the utter blackness of the cosmic void. Not a sound emitted from that formless mass. But dotted across the blackness like stars on a moonless night, shining gems gazed down at her.
Dozens of them.
Finlay awoke with a spike of terror, her hand reaching for her sword.
Across the dying fire, Loretta was looking at her with coral eyes turned scarlet in the light of the embers. The looming tower was dark and silent. There was no sphere. No dozens of glittering eyes. Nearby, Malenia slept on, undisturbed.
“Go back to sleep, Finn,” Loretta said, and Finlay somehow sensed that the Albinauric knew what she had seen with her sleeping eye. “’Tis naught but a dream.”
Finlay lay back down. The night crickets and gentle lap of wavelets on the shore helped to ease her racing heart. She found herself glad of the shining Erdtree, whose golden boughs blotted out the staring stars behind. Even so, it was long before she was able to sleep again.
The next day was overcast, heavy gray clouds suspended low over the lake, dark with the promise of rain. The travelers were all too glad of this respite from the summer sun, and made good time in the cooler air.
To the west, standing regal atop its hilly perch, a great manor sat like a crown jewel. Towers of graven stone stretched up proudly to marching battlements where flags snapped in the wind. Loretta gazed often at this graven hall, her eyes distant and sad, and finally Finlay asked her about it.
“Was that house dear to you?” she inquired of the pale woman.
Loretta nodded, not taking her gaze from that regal house. “Aye. ‘Tis Caria Manor, home of the royal family. I spent many late nights in its gardens with my lady Ranni, studying the stars and the dark moon. But when last I visited, it was a lonely place. No royal foot has trod its halls for many a long year.”
She turned away from the manor and returned her sights to the lake stretching ahead of them. “Though I am loyal to my lord Miquella, a piece of my heart will always remain in Caria.”
Finlay glanced back to Malenia, wondering what the Empyrean thought of such sentiment towards the house of the Starscourge, but was yet unsurprised when the demigod made no comment. She like as not had already learned this information long ago.
Midday came and went. A gentle mist of rain began, kissing sweaty brows with delicious coolness. Neither of the two knights noticed anything out of the ordinary. That is, until a sharp command from Malenia cut the silence.
“Halt.”
Loretta reigned her horse, and Finlay let the cart squeak to a stop. “What is it, my lady?” asked Loretta.
Malenia stood perfectly still, her head tilted to one side like some scarlet bird. “Something approaches,” she said.
Finlay scanned the surrounding area. The waters stretched away into the mists, dotted here and there with bulrushes and clumps of willow groves. The only sign of life was a wading curlew pacing on stilt legs in search of some aquatic prey. She could see no enemy.
From her equestrian perch however, Loretta tensed. “The trees,” she commanded.
Without asking why, Finlay picked up the cart handles and hurried after the Albinauric as she trotted swiftly toward a grove of low-hanging willows, Malenia close behind. Once in their shelter, Loretta dismounted and helped Finlay draw the cart among the leafy branches hanging in curtains.
Silence fell save for their breathing. Light filtered in rays through the thick tapestry of foliage. Finlay kept one hand on her sword, wanting to ask what Malenia had sensed, but wary of making the slightest noise.
Setting each foot down softly to avoid disturbing the water, Loretta moved to peer through a gap in their willowy shelter. After a moment, she gestured for Finlay to look as well.
Moving with all her knowledge of stealth, Finlay eased into a position beside the Albinauric, taking care that no ray of light would strike her armor and gleam a giveaway of their hiding place as she peered through the curtain of branches to scan the narrow view of the lake. For several tense heartbeats, she saw nothing but mist and water.
Then a shadow flitted above the clouds. A moment later, a monstrous, reptilian shape dropped below the belly of the low-hanging canopy, carried on a pair of batlike wings which trailed streaming mists in its wake.
A dragon.
The beast made not a sound to announce its presence. Its hide was as slate-gray as the clouds it had come from, but Finlay thought she glimpsed shards of blue jutting here and there from its long body, particularly around its head. Pressed to its scaly underbelly was a set of knobby legs tipped with claws like obsidian spikes.
The dragon glided low over the waters in near-perfect silence. Hardly a flap of its wings disturbed the air passing over its streamlined form. A horn-crowned head as long as Finlay was tall roved from side to side like a serpent, seeking prey. An unmistakable apex predator of its domain.
Finlay held her breath as the dragon passed overhead, swallowing the grove in its shadow. The creature’s underbelly was so close that she felt she could have reached out and plucked one of the glittering stones embedded in its scaly hide.
The dragon flew on, the wind dragged in its wake stirring the willow branches into a whispering chorus. Then with a single beat of its wings, the beast ascended once more into the cloud cover, and was gone as suddenly and silently as it had come.
Exhaling, Finlay relinquished her grip on her sword. Had it not been for the clouds, she realized, the creature would have surely spotted them from afar long ago and been able to swoop down on them unawares.
“What was that, Lady Loretta?” Malenia asked. “A dragon?”
“Aye,” the pale knight replied grimly. “‘Tis Smarag, a dragon with a fondness for the taste of sorcerer. I had hoped we might get through his territory without incident.”
The Empyrean flexed her false arm. “Must we battle him?”
This prospect both intrigued and intimidated Finlay. She had never fought a dragon before, and did not know whether Malenia or Loretta had, but the battle with the revenant and its setbacks were still fresh in her mind, leading her towards caution when she otherwise might have jumped at the chance to fight. Warriors though they were, there was still only three of them, and a dragon was nothing to scoff at.
Fortunately, Loretta shook her head as she soothed her nervous steed. “I think not. His diet of sorcerers has spoiled him; he much prefers his meat lightly clad in robes, rather than hidden behind shells of armor.”
Malenia gave a pensive nod. “The day is much gone; alloweth us to camp here, and on the morrow perhaps the clouds shalt be departed. The first watch shalt be mine.”
The three women and one horse hunkered down in the willow grove. In the middle of the copse there was a small portion of dry land, which Finlay and Loretta began setting up camp on. After some deliberation, it was decided that no fire would be built; the willow trees pressed in too closely overhead to risk a stray ember, and there was the chance that a passing dragon might spot the glow in the night.
Once this was done, Finlay approached Malenia and cleared her throat politely, though she knew the blind demigod was already of aware of her presence. “Shall I comb your hair, my lady?”
The Empyrean nodded assent. Taking up her comb, Finlay sat behind the scarlet woman on the soft earth and began teasing out the snarls that never failed to accumulate in her lady’s fiery tresses. Part of her wondered if politeness dictated that she make small talk during this exercise, but such habit had never come easily to her, and Malenia did not offer conversation of her own. So they sat in silence, the only sound being the soft rustle of bone teeth carding through hair.
As with every night, Finlay could not avoid the sight of her ungloved hands. They were truly monstrous now. Her fingernails had fallen out long ago, and were now replaced with jagged growths akin closer to bird’s talons. The skin of her palms was riddled with scales, and the backs of her knuckles were coated with ugly, slab-like fungi, which frequently broke off under the pressure from her gloves and vambraces. Though she had avoided looking, she could feel similar growths spreading past her elbows now, and on her feet all the way up to her knees. How long would it be before she was completely consumed?
Though Finlay had said nothing aloud, Malenia turned her head slightly. Perhaps something in Finlay’s breathing had changed. Perhaps the Empyrean could hear the very beat of her knight’s heart. Whatever the case, the scarlet demigod spoke.
“Thou art rotted.”
The comb halted in its task. Finlay remained frozen, staring at her grotesque hands entangled in the locks of the very source of her affliction. Her tongue felt thick and dumb. But duty demanded her answer.
“Aye,” she replied.
The Empyrean said no more, and neither did Finlay. The comb continued in rhythmic strokes.
That night, Malenia took first watch. The lack of fire was of no concern to her. She sat ramrod straight in the dark, her hands folded neatly in her lap, yet behind her placid veneer, all her remaining senses were cast out like a netting through which nothing could slip undetected. Not the night bird roosting in the reeds far off, not the frog squatting upon the bank, nor even the beetle which marched past her false feet on some nocturnal errand.
Yet even as she kept vigil, the Empyrean was deep in thought.
She had mortified herself before Finlay. She had expressed grief which had only ever been seen by her beloved Miquella. And in response to this, the knight who had so infuriated her had forced her to reconsider her previously-held notions.
It was just something her brother would have done. And Malenia did not know what to make of this.
Turning her senses toward the sleeping knights, the demigod could almost hear the sound of mycelia unfurling in the damp night air. The sound of rot.
For rotting, Finlay was. Malenia had sensed it, of course, since the moment she had first been in the knight’s presence in the swamps of Caelid. The process was gradual, but unmistakable, and Malenia was under no delusions that her very presence did not drive the curse with greater strength. Without the strength of a Great Rune as Malenia had, it would consume Finlay in the end. Such was the price of all who would follow the scarlet Empyrean. She had known this always.
With these thoughts, Malenia grew only more determined that she must not grow fond of the knight who had served her faithfully. She must not care. For if she did, the inevitable would only be a deeper twisting of the knife.
Princess.
Deep behind her blind eyes, a dragon murmured in his sleep, as though sensing her distress. Princess, lay aside thy fear.
The slightest tightening of the scarlet woman’s jaw marred her flawless mask. What fear? She was the mightiest of the demigods, and none could stand before her. She feared nothing, and no one.
Do not cleave so tightly to thy pain that thou wilt allow no other into thy heart, came Fortissax’s slumbering voice. The cage of thine own making is the most invisible and unbreakable of all.
She was not caged, Malenia thought decisively. She had done what she did in a last act of defiance against all who would defeat her. The scarlet bloom had flowered. Would Miquella have been disappointed in her? Perhaps. But he had not been on that field of battle. He had not seen the hatred in the eyes of the half-brother who had once looked on them both with, if not fondness, then at least less zeal for their father’s sake. The Age of Abundance was not come yet.
The Empyrean’s hand went to her throat, where a small, spherical object hung suspended on a thin chain of gold, hidden beneath the tattered collar of her scarlet cloak. Often she had wondered why she had not cast it off long ago, a remnant of all that she had resolved to forsake. Yet some part of her could not make herself throw it away.
The changing of the watch could not come soon enough. Malenia awoke Finlay with a murmur, and tried to subdue her churning thoughts as she settled on her bedroll. She did think a little better of the knight than she had, of this she was certain. But she allowed herself no more than this. Anything else would only burn her in the end.
Finlay’s watch was peaceful, and as the moon began to dip toward the horizon, she woke Loretta and gratefully returned to her bedroll. After a fitful slumber during which she again saw the Starscourge bearing down on her, she awoke as ever before dawn.
Malenia did not.