Chapter Text
The light of day slowly dimmed as the sun set westward while a lone knight followed a golden trail towards his destination. The silver wings on his helm reflected its rays like a mirror, casting a myriad of patterns around him.
He shook his head lightly, enjoying how it made said patterns dance delicately along the trees. For just a fleeting moment, he was able to forget why he was coming here in the first place. At least, until he memories came pouring back.
***
His clan slaughtered, consumed by the curse that crept in the night, turning them into twisted, hideous beasts. Their bodies, but husks of their former selves, were vessels that harboured beings beyond his comprehension.
His grip tightened significantly on his greatsword as the images of their slaughter played through his mind. Every single one of them… even his father… they all died by his blade. The blade he swore to use only for righteousness when his father gifted it to him at his coming of age ceremony, was now piercing through said man's body, spilling cursed essence from the cavity.
It's no longer them, Wylder, they just look like your tribe.
He repeated himself the same thing like a mantra as his weapon pierced through his tribe members' bodies.
As he struck the last one down, the knight fell to his knees, sobbing loudly with his face in his palms. He stuck by the Windwail Knoll's encampment in hopes of getting some sort of answer.
The answer came to him a few weeks later in the form of a simple letter carried by a beautiful gigantic spectral hawk. The only time he'd ever seen a bird this size was when his tribe visited Lordran. Those crows were some of the most beautiful creatures Wylder had ever seen.
This bird was vastly different though. Its feathers were of a translucid blue, emanating delicate blue particles around it as it moved. It landed next to Wylder with an impressive thud, startling him at first. The man gripped his greatsword, ready to defend himself, until he realized the creature meant no harm.
His love of animals took over as he brought an open palm to the creature in hopes it would let him touch it. The bird lowered its head gently, letting Wylder scratch behind its neck, its eyes slowly closing as it enjoyed the attention.
Wylder noticed some sort of parchment in the creature's mouth that resembled a letter. He leaned forward towards the colossal hawk's beak to get a better look at it.
"What do you have there?" He asked, voice rough as he hadn't spoken a word since the incident.
It squawked happily, dropping the parchment in Wylder's hand and nudging him to open it. The bird tilted its head in a typical bird manner, awaiting the swordsman's next move.
It was curiously addressed to the man himself. He carefully unrolled the paper with shaky hands.
"Dear Wylder,
Follow the glow of the golden trail. The Hold awaits you.
- The Priestess"
Somehow, this "Priestess" person knew his name. Well, his title that was given to him along with his sword at his coming of age ceremony. The knight couldn't remember what he was called beforehand, but Wylder suited him nicely. Anyways, his old name died alongside his tribe…
He turned towards the hawk, somehow hoping for the creature to guide him, but it flew away in a whirlwind of blue feathers, screeching as it disappeared into the horizon.
"Wait!" he screamed, running towards the bird.
He activated his grappling hook in hopes of catching up to it, pulling himself towards the creature, but it was all in vain. In seconds, the bird has disappeared from his sight, leaving the knight confused and out of breath.
He looked towards the ground, defeated, before noticing a faint blue glow nestled in the grass. It was one of the bird's feathers. Wylder removed his glove and picked it up, running his calloused fingers over the soft blue barbs of the feather.
He put it in his pouch, sighing as he was once again completely lost. Until he saw it: The golden glow that was mentioned in the letter.
There was nothing left to lose for Wylder, so he followed it, not knowing if he was jumping right into the pit of danger.
It mattered little to him. He had nothing left to live for anyways… Apart from vengeance. He'd avenge the loss of his tribe to his last breath.
***
That's how he made it where he was now, following a gold trail for almost a week now, hoping something, anything, would come out of this delusion.
Somehow, moments later, his hopes were answered when he reached this gigantic crumbled hallway with a room at the end. The glow seemed to intensify as he approached it. The hallway brought him to a large room, mostly occupied by a gigantic round table with a beautiful golden… thing… resting in the middle.
It gave out a warm, comforting glow, seemingly making his aches and pains disappear in an instant. He approached his hand towards it, his fingers oh so close to touching it… until..
"Ah! You must be Wylder!" said a soft voice from across the room.
Wylder startled, nearly jumping out of his skin despite the voice being so delicate. He brought a hand to his chest in fear, nearly feeling his heart beat through the solid metal of his chest plate as he tried to calm down his breathing.
"Oh, my apologies!" the voice continued, tone tinted in slight amusement, "I didn't mean to catch you off guard."
A petite figure in a white cloak appeared from the back of the room, moving with such grace they almost looked inhuman.
Delicate white-blond hair spilled gracefully out of the garment, overlapping with the peculiar metal mask the person was wearing. It was intricately carved with swirling patterns, accentuating the shape of the stranger's face.
Wylder must've been staring for just a bit too long as the hooded figure cleared their throat, continuing their speech.
"I'm the Priestess, the one who sent that letter. You can also call me Duchess." A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, creating dimples on her pale cheeks.
"Wylder." The knight rasped as a response, offering his hand to Duchess.
The woman shook his hand firmly, catching Wylder by surprise. He guessed that she wasn't the keeper of this place for nothing.
The swordsman looked back towards the warm light in the middle of the table, staring longingly at it.
A small, delicate hand was placed on Wylder's shoulder. "It's beautiful isn't it?" Duchess whispered as she approached the knight.
The swordsman simply nodded in response, his gaze not faltering from the light.
"This is the Grace. It somehow chooses people to carry on its quest, healing them from any physical ailment."
That must be why my pain lessened as I approached it.
"It's also what brought me to you, Wylder. Your name appeared to me in a dream and my spectral hawk somehow knew where to find you. I can't explain why, but you were destined to be here. As were all the other nightfarers." she continued.
Wylder tilted his head in confusion, the metal wings on his helmet reflecting yellow hues from the Grace onto the Priestess' white cloak.
"Nightfarers?" he asked.
Duchess smiled. "Yes, that's how I've decided to call the "chosen" of the Grace."
" Nightfarers"… that has a nice ring to it.
Wylder nodded in agreement, before the Priestess continued.
"Now, I should probably show you to your room!"
She gestured the swordsman to follow him, a kind, soft smile pulling at her lips.
She went out through a one of the many corridors, pointing out areas to Wylder as they went past.
"That here is the changing room! There's a mirror there if you need to get changed before an expedition!"
Wylder noted the intricate fireplace at the end of the room. He'd definitely start a cozy fire one night when he was alone.
They passed another room that the Priestess called the waiting room. Seemed to be some sort of extra beds.
From there, they passed a doorway where all the rooms were situated. The Duchess pointed to a door on the far end and looked towards Wylder. "That is your room! Take the time to get acquainted, I'll be waiting for you along with the others for a nice meal cooked by the Iron Menial!"
Before the knight could question her, the Priestess had already eclipsed herself into the other room.
Wylder took a deep breath, taking hesitant steps towards his room, not knowing what to expect. He brought a gloved hand to the knob, turning it slowly, only to be met with a cozy, quaint room.
A bed in the far corner draped with fresh white sheets graced the room. A delicate chandelier hung from the ceiling, lighting the room in a warm, comforting glow. He entered further into the room, noticing a sword holder on the wall across from the bed.
They really did expect me…
He chuckled to himself, knowing he'd never use it since his sword would never leave his side, but the thought was sweet.
Wylder made his way to the bed, dropping in it with a loud thud. When was the last time he slept in an actual bed? Not since the incident…
He felt his eyes water, the memories of a few weeks ago flooding back in his mind. He removed his helm, putting it next to him on the sheets as he wiped the tears off of his scarred cheeks.
The knight gazed towards his helm, taking it in his hands once more. He brushed his gloved fingers across the wings, tears rolling down his face. His father wore the same helm…
For just a moment, he wondered if he would go out without the head wear, but he decided against it. Nobody needed to see him in this pathetic state. He hasn't had a good night's sleep in so long, he must look terrible.
Plus… this way they couldn't see him cry.
He put the helm back on, sighing loudly before he was startled by knocking on the door.
"Mister Wylder, are you still in here, nightfarer?" the voice on the other side of the door asked.
He didn't respond, but he heard the knob turn anyways.
I'll have to keep my helm at all times if people don't respect privacy…
A tall, lanky marionette figure stood in the doorway, its four arms placed gracefully on his sides. He spoke in a posh, polite tone as he addressed Wylder excitedly.
"Ah, you're awake! I'm the Iron Menial! Pleased to make your acquaintance!" he said, approaching Wylder and offering one of his hands.
The swordsman nodded in response, ignoring the hand offered to him.
The marionette pulled his hand back awkwardly before continuing. "Follow me, the others are waiting for your arrival!"
As he spoke his last words, the Menial scuttled out of the room excitedly, making Wylder get up quickly to catch up.
He entered the dining room and everyone turned their heads towards him.
There was a colossal man, he called himself Raider. He was loud and boastful. His voice echoed through the entire room as he spoke.
Next to him, a witch with a huge brimmed hat named Recluse. She seemed very calm and soft-spoken. Her dialect was similar to older English.
There was a tiny, porcelain-like young lady named Revenant. Despite her tiny stature, she seemed like the feistiest of the bunch, ready to pounce in anyone to get in her way.
He was surprised to see a pinion folk sitting at their table as well. He remembered his tribe crossing them a while back, but he'd never actually seen one up close. The bird called himself Guardian. He seemed to be very protective of the other nightfarers that he affectionately called his "flock". His title fit him quite well, Wylder thought.
A lonely knight with copper coloured armour sat quietly, idly scribbling on a paper with an ink pen. He didn't speak, but seemed to he able to communicate well regardless.
Wylder sat next to Raider, quietly hoping the man wouldn't speak with him. To his dismay, the colossal man put a hand on his shoulder, nearly toppling him over from the sheer force, talking to him loudly.
"Aye, lad, you seem so nervous!" he boasted, "Loosen up a bit, won't ya?"
Raider brought his hands to Wylder's helm, trying to yank it off, but Wylder instinctively dodged his grasp. A tingle in the back of his neck alerting him off the danger.
"Don't." Wylder rasped, as he walked away from the large man.
So many people in such a short time became overwhelming to the knight, so he decided to take a walk to get away from everyone - especially Raider - and calming his nerves.
He made his way up a cliff behind the Hold, hoping the sea breeze blowing through the slits in his helm would suffice to relax him.
Branches cracked beneath his boots as he approached the peak. He let a breath of relief out as he finally made it, Raider's voice almost completely drowned by the waves hitting against the rocks below him.
He sat on ledge, dangling his feet on the side as he listened to the sounds of the water. It was peaceful and he felt the tension in his body loosen.
Until the sound of someone clearing their throat startled him. The swordsman jumped in fear, nearly falling off the cliff, only for a cold gloved hand to pull him backwards.
Wylder lifted his gaze towards his saviour, a beautiful glowing blue look staring back at him. "I don't think these waters are the best for swimming."
The man's voice came out deep and raspy, sending shivers down the knight's spine.
"I- uhm… I just wasn't expecting for someone to be here." Wylder mumbled, caught off guard by the mysterious man's dry humour.
The man laughed as he looked at Wylder with those piercing blue eyes.
Even his laugh was as smooth as honey.
"I'm Ironeye." he said, offering his hand to Wylder. "I'm also not a fan of all the noise going on there."
Wylder accepted the man's hand with grace. He thanked Marika that he had his helm on, or Ironeye would see the embarrassing amount of blush spreading across his cheeks.
"W-Wylder," the swordsman stuttered, words eluding him.
The knight felt like a teenager again, talking to his crush. Was a pretty voice and beautiful eyes all he needed to fall in love? It couldn't be..
"Want to see a nice place I found around the Hold while avoiding the others?" Ironeye asked, chuckling again.
I guess it can be…
Wylder nodded, avoiding eye contact with Ironeye.
"Then follow me!" he said, pulling Wylder by his hand. "Make it quick!"