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The fallen leaves would tell their story- if only she'd let them.
It had not been long, she reflected as she trod uneasily on rotten boughs. It had not been long since her father- since Radagon, she reminded herself, he had been no father - had been slain, and since he had taken power.
The very thought of the Elden Lord brought a curse to her mouth, but she did not waste breath on it. No, she reminded herself again, this doll's body did not need to breathe, but she restrained herself nonetheless as such outbursts of emotion would be the last thing that served her now.
It had been due to a great deal of effort and no small amount of sheer, blind luck that she had managed to reach the Haligtree to begin with. For one, the location was hidden well- thanks to Miquella and his unbridled mind- and for another, the hunt for her must have begun.
Iji and Blaidd had already been taken from her long ago, by the machinations of the Two Fingers. He had seemed so dismayed, back then.
Was it all a lie? Did the Tarn- Elden Lord have a part in their deaths even then? She had thought she wholly had the measure of him, and understood his mind in full, but what she had seen was the kindly façade behind which an immensity of ruthlessness had lurked. And yet, after she had slain her Two Fingers, he had turned away from the path she had set him upon, and turned instead to a seeking domination.
'Foolish and fainéant of myself, to ever have bethought him my lord.' she told herself again. Hells, she could not even remember his name! Every time she attempted to think of him as a Tarnished, the very thought itself would flee her. It was some strange power which not even she with her prodigious mastery of sorcery could explain.
It was as if the Tarnished had never been, and the Master of the Golden Order had been the one to walk the Lands Between from the beginning. To her, it was a strain to even call him 'Elden Lord', as the only titles he would ever allow in these days was 'Emperor', or 'Lord of Dawn'. It was as if her mind rebelled against an axiom written into the very fabric of the world, and so her memory of he-who-had-once-been-a-Tarnished fogged over in retribution.
All who were left suddenly renounced enmity, due to this strange power of his, this manipulation- and rejoiced for their Emperor. Even Morgott, that staunch and dogged defender of the Erdtree, had bent the knee and served now as his Vizier, calling him his 'Revelation'. From what she had seen, their partnership appeared more profound than simple co-operation between a master and a spared foe-turned servant, as the Lord of Leyndell had appeared to truly believe in and even share the Emperor's vision.
The very thought of the sacred relic sword in the Emperor's hands, and the flash of the golden lightning he wielded as his choice weapon filled her with new loathing, and with it, resolve. Ranni could not allow this tyrant to control the Lands Between.
A true lord was meant to propagate understanding and the acquisition of knowledge, not hold dominion and control. And Ranni had sworn to herself long ago- at the beginning of the shattering- that all who lived here would have their own lives to themselves, uncommanded by any supreme master. Even if it may lead into cold doubt, fear and loneliness, surely mastery of one's own fate would be worth such trials.
Without such justification, of course, taking this chance would be the most monumentally ill-considered idea she could ever have thought of. She knew well of the portents of what her half-sister might threaten to become, and she knew well what she had done to Caelid, and how she had been the catalyst that felled her brother, Radahn.
As it stood, Malenia was the only chance she had left, and the only one with strength and skill enough to slay the Emperor. Together and only together, Ranni had foreseen, could they hope to withstand the storm of Dawn itself, and brave the golden lightning's glow.
Treading carefully, she eluded the Knight of the Haligtree who stood guard, cloaking her doll's form in a veil of night. As she took the lift down to Elphael- the fabled citadel of Miquella and the heart of the Haligtree's roots- she could not help but admire the sight, and feel somewhat saddened by it.
The place was glorious still, but rotting. Dying. Vibrancy appeared to have left its vitality, and all that remained was a husk that struggled doggedly against its own end. It nearly brought a flicker of emotion to her, to consider how much more splendour the citadel must have held in its better days- for Miquella had been a skilled manipulator of life, and his abode must surely have reflected life itself.
At least, she thought as cold comfort, her theory had been correct. For this place to have devolved as such, it was indeed that Miquella no longer abode here. The matter was the gambit upon which her entire plan hinged, and she only hoped she had not lost her touch with presenting truths in the manner that would suit her aims best, or her silver tongue which had won her the most victories of all.
The Master of the Golden Order had shaken her confidence, but for the sake of the moment, she cast the thought of the Elden Lord away from her mind. She would not fail, simply because she could not. She would not allow herself to. For herself- and for all.
"I dreamt for so long." came the voice, suspiciously soft and melodic for one Ranni knew to be possessed of the coldest of hearts.
She had not heard her voice in years, and had in fact hoped to never hear it again- but here she was. Desperate times did indeed call for desperate measures. In her orderly mind, Ranni catalogued that as an axiom.
"My flesh was dull gold... and my blood, rotted. Corpse after corpse, left in my wake..." an almost delicate-seeming hand alighted gently from the roots on which it had rested, once again deceptive. Ranni knew of the indescribable strength that lurked within that limb. The second deception was the appearance; stained with rot as it was, the hand still seemed graceful, as though it possessed a beauty that could not be undimmed.
Her half-sister sounded pensive, almost sad. There was an air of melancholy to her words, as though they came from one who stared at an inevitable doom. It was as if Malenia was sad for what had happened and what would happen, but did not regret what she had done- and would do so a thousand times again.
Ranni herself had no sympathies for Radahn, and she had never been particularly sentimental about any of her family save her mother, but a certain wrath still rose within her. It must be due to Malenia's power, she recognised- here was a being who could hurt her. Challenge her, even defeat her. A feeling only a fellow Empyrean could evoke.
Malenia reached down, laying her hand on the fallen prosthetic of unalloyed gold. Ranni tried and failed to miss how she stroked a flower on the ground momentarily before raising it.
"As I awaited... his return."
His. There was only one 'he' who had ever mattered to Malenia, and it had been Miquella. Here was Ranni's window.
"Rest thy hand, I implore thee. I come in peace, and with offer of aid- aid that shall see Miquella returned to thee once more."
The golden helmet was left discarded. In a blinding flash and a blur, Malenia was upon her, and a cold metal hand had raised the doll's form aloft by the throat. It would have been a simple matter for Malenia to simply toss her up and impale her upon the flowing blade- her hand- but the doll did not need to breathe, and Ranni was not harried. She knew her half-sister. It had been another deception, this slow awakening- Malenia had heard her, had sensed her as she walked within the citadel above, and prepared this act. To see her shaken from it was satisfying, to say the least.
"You know nothing of Miquella, witch of our father's blood. Presumption has ever been your bane- just as it is the bane of all sorcerers."
Ranni was tempted to laugh. Ah, such blind faith, such naïveté! So reminiscent of Leyndell's faith in the Emperor. The thought sustained her, and shaped her will, dispelling her fear entirely.
"I see." she said, voice perfectly calm despite her vessel being on the point of a blade. "I had thought it a ponderous matter, sister, that thou couldst think to rest herein when thy brother was taken. 'Twould seem thou wast unaware of this matter entire."
The words were not insulting- she could not afford to insult her now- but provocative all the same. The hand of Malenia twitched, but was kept steady.
"Speak clearly." came the blunt reply, all delicacy to her voice now gone- and yet it somehow retained that certain melodic quality. The finesse was a thing intrinsic to it, perhaps, and not an affectation.
"Miquella resteth not where thou didst leave him, sister. He was taken and is now beyond thy reach, but I know whereat thou mayest find him- if thou wouldst but hark to my words."
Lines of rot crinkled on what had been a face Ranni, in a moment of pettiness, had once been jealous of. "I know he is not here. He shall ascend beyond that which we walk, and return to me in his golden hour. Until such time, woe betide trespassers who seek to deceive with words."
Even then, she did not move to destroy the doll. Perhaps this was an ultimatum, a final challenge, which if she could not answer meant this doll's end.
"Mayhap thou hadst a plot to this end, but alas! He hath not the puissance to return to thee at present, for he resteth now in a gilded cage. His power is chained, and his shackles forged by one who hath ascended in his place. A captive sad, he lieth now in silent mourning before the throne of the Emperor."
Ranni had infused power into her words, granting them a clarity that could not be described in words. They evoked images of misery and lost hope, and the term 'Emperor' had come as if with the force of hammer-blow. Such measures were necessary, or Malenia would have recognised the lie.
Ranni did not in truth know where Miquella was, and the last she had seen, neither did the Emperor. The fact remained that Malenia still thought him missing, and would do anything for her brother- how convenient for Ranni, then, to place the Emperor as an obstacle before her.
For a single instant, the golden arm wavered, fingers trembling around the doll's neck. The Lunar Princess' magesight allowed her to perceive that which was hidden by the stoic face: grief, grief unrivalled by even her mother's mourning.
Grief beyond what even she had felt for Blaidd and Iji; as they had at least done their part in her name. With Ranni's lie, however, Malenia felt as if she truly had nothing.
This belief formed the cornerstone of Ranni's plot, the idea that would prompt Malenia to do all in her power to slay the Emperor- and, as Ranni hoped- be wounded enough so that Ranni could slay her in turn.
The depth of grief she felt now robbed the thought from her mind. Ranni had never particularly cared for her siblings, but a feeling so pure- so uncoloured by anything but a simple devotion- roused something within her, something that wished to hide her sister away from the world and destroy any who would bring her to these depths of sadness.
Strange, she thought- perhaps this was Malenia manipulating her, just as she was manipulating Malenia. If this were true, however, Ranni would have known it, as she most of all was skilled in matters of duplicity. Any manipulation on her sister's part, therefore, must be unintentional.
"Is this truth? Truth, undiluted and untampered with?" Malenia asked, firm again, never having displayed the deluge of emotion Ranni knew she felt.
"I would let thee see for thyself, if thou wouldst have it." said Ranni.
Here came finest application of sorcery she had ever used, every last ounce of her wit spent.
Malenia saw, as she had deciphered, by recognising patterns, and understanding the most miniscule shift in the world before her. Though blinded, she saw- in more ways than one- what was beyond natural sight. A testament to effort, and an unparalleled strength of will. But Ranni had an equal strength, and could outwit her.
She wove the glintstone currents with care. The doll had no heartbeat, which made her task somewhat more manageable, but it was of the essence that her hands did not tremble.
Her illusion brought a temporary sight to Malenia's eyes. Every detail needed to be perfect, and every facet required a certain verisimilitude.
Godrick, Rennala, Radahn, Rykard, Morgott. Malenia saw each of them in succession- and then, golden light.
Each time, they were felled, struck down by Golden Light- light which Ranni made Malenia know, and implied she should fear. It was there she would have failed, for the Emperor had once been a Tarnished- when she had bethought him her eventual lord- but the Emperor's own power worked in her favour.
This twisting of history, this change to the logic of the world that had fogged over her memory and had forced her to forget her former lover and know only the Emperor, was perfect for her own ends. It allowed her to truly believe that he had taken Miquella-as she professed to her half-sister- for was that not what the Emperor would do?
How characteristic it would be of the Master of the Golden Order to hold captive those who would potentially stand in his way to absolute power. For all Ranni knew, in the months she had taken to devise a spell to travel to the Haligtree, her ruse may have become a reality.
There was no error, not even the slightest hint of one. She had lain bare the mechanisms behind her illusion for Malenia's perusal, and it left her exhausted.
"I may be gravely mistaken"- Malenia said softly, shaking hand somehow still managing to lower the doll gently to the ground instead of dropping it- "And it would come as no surprise after the failure I have proved to be- but you do not lie. If you do, it is beyond my skill to detect."
The hand of Malenia dropped to the ground, and Ranni nearly breathed a sigh of relief, restraining herself with great effort.
"I approach thee, sister, for only with thy hand may he be slain. Only together have we the strength to restore Miquella to-"
The words fell on deaf ears as Malenia herself collapsed to the ground thereafter. The only indication she had ever given of being pained was a slight gasp of exhaustion, which Ranni had in her haste left unnoticed.
"Sister? Sister!" said Ranni, needing to feign only half her concern. A grunt and a groan was heard from the golden pile that had but a moment ago been the picture of elegance, and she walked gingerly towards the downed Valkyrie.
Malenia's face was contorted in terrible pain, teeth gritted in an unwilling grimace. Blood flowed from her lips as she had bitten her tongue, restraining a scream of pain. Her remaining, rotted and yet still beautiful hand was clawing at her helmet, as if to gouge out nonexistent eyes.
Had she any tear ducts left, tears would be flowing from them. Ranni lowered the doll's palm- her palm- on her heart, and felt a kind of writhing that could not possibly be a heartbeat.
"Save yourself." Malenia croaked. "Go far from here, far away before I... before I... bloom..."
It was an interesting matter to examine, in a scholarly capacity. Ranni had something of an anthropological bent, and found herself utterly surprised. If some catastrophe was near occurring- why would Malenia seek to warn her?
They owed each other nothing but enmity- and certainly, Ranni had been distant from her siblings, with her suspecting Malenia to be particularly isolated, except from Miquella. That was the reality of an Empyrean's life. And yet, Malenia would seek to ensure her well-being, even nearly insensate from pain herself?
Perhaps, she realised distantly, that Malenia would ordinarily do no such thing. Now, though- her very world shattered, her hope taken, a new Elden Lord on the throne- the rot's call growing ever more impossible to resist- she would seek to aid Ranni. At her most vulnerable, she would seek to protect. It may well have been more of a matter of a last defiance to the rot instead of care for her half-sister, but it moved Ranni all the same.
Later, Ranni would rationalise to herself that it was a prudential concern that spurred her into action. She sought to build trust, she told herself, by aiding her half-sister then, and prove to her that she genuinely sought alliance. It was certainly part of the reason, but it would be a lie to call it reason enough.
It was curious, in a certain way. She had never cared for Godwyn's demise after she had herself engineered it- and she had by all rights been far fonder of Godwyn than this vessel of rot.
Then again, she had never felt this depth of grief before, and never seen one who hid it quite as well. Malenia fascinated her in some way, she realised- the strongest of them all, and yet the most vulnerable. The highest blessed, and the deepest accursed.
She conjured pure, flowing water by an effort of will, washing Malenia's wounds and soothing her pain. Flowing water was what defeated Rot, or so her memories of a certain blind swordsman told. It was a gentle flood, not too warm or cold, and blue as the rising moon at its finest.
The writhing ceased, and her sister grew still, her will renewed. Spurred on by th water and a distant memory, she struck back at the onslaught of rot, calling every reserve of strength to force it back within her bosom. It would have been so easy to give in, so very easy- yet she did not. For all those years, she did not.
Nothing short of admirable, Ranni realised, and wondered how she had not caught sight of this before. She gained a new respect for Malenia, but for the first time, not one born of fear or loathing. And with that came a new tenderness that could not be helped.
"Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Oed’ und leer das Meer."
It had taken days of care for Malenia to get better, but what with the severity of her affliction, Ranni found herself surprised at the speed of her recovery. It was this strength of will, this unyielding determination that would be the Emperor's bane.
When she could stand again, her sister had returned to her usual self, infusing every stride with an impossible grace, and every word with a stoic stiffness. The day before, Ranni had unceremoniously been shut out of the sanctum where she rested, without a word said.
Malenia was searching for Miquella, Ranni deduced, and smiled in self-satisfaction. She pretended to read a book until Malenia returned, grim.
"Radagon is dead." she said without preamble, by way of a conversation-starter. Ranni nearly sniffed at the curtness.
"Our father is dead, aye. Slain by the Emperor, his very flesh reforged into the golden blade he wieldeth now." she replied, careful with the phrasing. She herself called her father by his name, having none of the affection for him that she had for her mother, but called him so now for the sake of this pretense of closeness with her sister.
She had taken care to make the sacred relic sword sound as vile as possible, and though both did not particularly care for Radgaon's fate- 'serves him right', they both thought- it was convenient to pretend as if they did, and act as if it was one of the reasons why the Emperor must be defeated.
"I would have slain him myself, I will have you know. If he had stood in Miquella's way, I would have cut him down- just as I shall cut down this 'Emperor' of yours."
"Tis futile to have words with with thee on whether or not thou hadst the power to defeat Radagon, for the Emperor is not as our father was. It is he who holdeth Miquella in chains. If this granteth thee resolve, thou mayest think of him as thou wilt."
"Then we must leave at once." she had said, simply. "Every moment wasted here is one Miquella cannot afford to spare."
Now that she had expected, and concocted another elaborate deception to prevent. She had faith in Malenia's ability to slay the Emperor, but the straightforward approach would never work on the Elden Lord she knew.
"Thou must rest assured, dear sister, that Miquella hath time to spare. 'Twas my last manipulation, the last measure I took ere I left the Emperor's side. 'Tis a fruit of my work that he resteth now encaged, and lieth not slain by the lord's golden blade."
"How can you be sure?" Malenia questioned, the faintest edge of rime to her voice.
"I knew his mind, for a time. He would not believe aught I told him. 'Twas therefore a matter of presentation; if 'twere that I should seek to conceal a matter from his sight, he would regard such a matter as absolute truth."
In truth, it was another hoax that she would hope became reality. In her notes at her old tower in Liurnia, she had left behind the insinuation that no Empyrean could truly die. Ranni did not truly know the answer to such a question, but she did know that Malenia could reform if she gave in to the Rot, and that she herself had taken measures so that she could never be slain unless it were the destruction of her very soul.
She knew the Emperor to be nothing less than utterly fastidious, and reasoned that he would peruse and tear apart all she had left after the hunt for her began; surely, then, two of the three Empyreans that yet existed as concrete examples would serve as evidence enough to conclude that no Empyrean could truly be slain?
"Your riddles are hardly amusing." Malenia huffed, but there was a hint of humour to it, hidden somewhere.
"Unlike some, I stand ready to expound in clarity, shouldst thou wish it of me." Ranni replied. "Striking the Emperor without delay is what he would wish of us. He desireth thine end, and mine. As counterweight, I left a hoax that those of Empyrean flesh may not truly be slain. He seeketh, in consequence, to cage and enchain for ever and anon that which may someday be reborn to strike at him should he slay it."
"All in a quest for absolute power, I would presume to believe. If I might ask, why?"
The seemingly naïve question was a test, Ranni understood. If she railed at the opportunity against the Emperor, Malenia would know that she sought to use her.
"He doth profess his rule as enlightenment, and he hath pronounced himself a tool. A 'canvas', upon which his subjects painteth their aspirations. Yet his words stem forth from hypocrisy, as that which he cannot himself understand, he seeketh to send unto damnation." the Lunar Princess said, sadly.
Malenia appeared to fall back, thinking.
"Tis no ordinary foe that we face, sister. Neither have I the might to withstand the onslaught of his golden relic blade, nor hast thou the fortitude to brave the death-strokes of his golden lightning. Yet, should I protect thee from the lightning's glow, thou mayest reach him, and slay him with thine own hand. Thou must comprehend that I would not have come to thee otherwise, or plainly sought alliance hadst thou been able to slay him with thy strength alone."
Malenia said nothing, and swept away. It would be a day before she approached Ranni again.
"I thank you for all you have done. I know not still if you lie, or if you seek to use me to slay the Emperor for our own reasons- but so long as there is a chance to save Miquella, you may consider myself at your disposal."
"'Tis not untrue that I seek to use thee." Ranni said, "Not for power, but for matter of principle. I must slay the Emperor for mine own reasons- do with the world what thou wouldst wish afterwards. See to thy brother's ascension, if thou must. I cannot care. If 'twere that we emerge victorious, I seek to voyage far from hence, my task at an end."
It was only partly a lie. If need be, she would burn that bridge when they got there. For now, they needed to focus all their efforts on the Emperor's end.
"Then I follow your lead." Malenia said simply. She still suspected lies, of course- but so long as they were of the same mind, Ranni felt reinvigorated. It was good to have an ally, for once- especially one as dedicated as she knew her sister to be.
The Master of the Golden Order may wield power unlimited, but together, so Ranni felt, there was nothing they could not accomplish.
"Rise, King Morgott. Thou hast no need to bow before me, when we are not in public. 'Twould not behoove me to force abasement upon those who have the sight to share my vision."
"A matter of principle, mine Emperor." said the Lord of Leyndell, and rose stiffly. The perpetual aches caused by his deformities and Omen blood still stung, but the pain had begun to lessen, of late. He suspected it was his lord's influence, as he now spent his days swathed in golden light.
"On to matters of business, then. I see thou hast canonised Goldmask, as was our prerogative. I must admit, thou hast done most excellently with the statue."
"Indeed. 'Twas as thou didst say, my lord- Saint Goldmask deserved his remembrance, for it is through his sacrifice that thou didst reforge the Elden Ring and restore the Golden Order."
"Thou outdost thyself, as ever." the Emperor said. The offhand remark brought some unfamiliar warmth to Morgott's veins. To have iron truths imposed on his world was new to him- but if it meant fair work for fair reward, Morgott could abide by it. And though the Emperor insisted that he be hailed alognside him, and had granted him a throne and robes of gold, his simple praise was what Morgott considered most precious.
"Walk with me, if thou wouldst not object." his lord said, and Morgott simply fell into step beside him. He had been harshly chastised for proclaiming it an honour the first time the Emperor had asked him to, as it was essential that the matter remain a choice.
Was it truly a choice, though? It was not as if he would refuse, even if he could.
"I was considering a matter, my liege. Thou hast brought peace, justice, freedom and security unto Leyndell, but I find myself stricken by a sense of unfairness. If thine order is to be one of enlightenment, surely it must reach all corners of the Lands Between."
The Emperor smiled, and led him to a balcony.
"I implore thee to recall my words, when thou didst first pledge service to me. A great crusade, to claim control of these lands and bring fairness and order to all. After the matter of repealing the laws that stand 'gainst omens, and the revelation of the truth behind the Erdtree and the primordial crucible before it, we shall venture forth in conquest."
He could see it even now, their legions marching forth in glorious gold. Light-bringing angels, flooding all with grace.
"If I may, lord, thou hast not the forces to see to such. Leyndell is mighty but the Lands Between are vast. Even inducting new Crucible Knights, 'twould not be enough. Thou canst only be on one battlefield at a time."
The Emperor frowned, gesturing vaguely east.
"In my travels in Caelid, I had attained the friendship of one Commander Jerren. A sizeable force of Radahn's red lions doth remain, and should they join their banners to ours, 'twould suffice for the crusade's beginning. The matter is that their oaths were to Radahn, not the Golden Order. To have them join with us must mean asking them to abandon the memory of their General."
The idea struck Morgott in a flash.
"Not necessarily, my liege. Radahn and his aims may yet be reconciled with thine own. If thou dost canonise him, and we spin the narrative of Saint Radahn and his heroic, foresighted war standing 'gainst the scarlet rot.."
"Thou'rt indispensable, Morgott." the Emperor said, eyes shining bright gold. "Malenia remains yet a problem, for her location is yet beyond my grasp. It is fortunate that she hath not been slain, however- fortunate indeed, for she shall serve perfectly as our antagonist. 'The War on Rot', it shall be called. The death of Malenia, to avenge Saint Radahn. Such a noble cause would doubtless convince them- and doubly accomplish an aim of our crusade."
In truth, Morgott had not thought that far- and the Emperor speaking about a 'perfect' antagonist had somewhat unnerved him. It seemed callous, after a fashion, to relegate Malenia as such- but who was he to object?
She was a wilful traitor, as were all his siblings against the Golden Order. And the King of Leyndell would see his Emperor's will done.