Chapter Text
In a ruined chapel just off the shore of Liurnia, a Tarnished found themself blessed once more with the grace of gold. Gasping for air, the abnormally tall woman sat up and looked at her surroundings. Confused, she carefully took stock of the ancient building and gasped in horror at the sight of the dead maiden sitting in the room with her. Rising on shaky legs, the women stood, trying to remember what happened. She was dressed in a white robe with matching colored greaves and a navy blue hood and half cape. Her flaming red hair was in a long braid with bangs framing a snow white face. Her dark blue eyes pierced the darkness. Nervous, she reached for her weapon and found it. A katana forged from glintstone that, with a Carian Blue set in the hilt, could be used as a catalyst for sorceries.
The woman began to carefully walk towards the door of the chapel, pausing for a moment to say a quick prayer over the dead maiden. She reached the heavy doors and pushed them open, finding herself taking in the view of a place she knew to be Castle Stormveil. She began to make her way down the cliff to her left, jumping down a few platforms, before crossing a suspension bridge made of wood and rope. Upon reaching the end of the bridge, she entered into a large courtyard type area and continued towards the archway on her right.
As she walked, she heard a faint whooshing sound and looked up to see a large creature hurtling towards her. She dodge-rolled to the left, barely avoiding being crushed by the monstrous thing. As it landed, she caught a glimpse of a child’s face and upper body grotesquely attached to a hulking body with dozens of limbs sticking out of its back. Grafting. She had heard tales of the vile practice but hadn't paid them any mind. And now, a Grafted Scion was attempting to kill her.
The thing swung at her, but she deftly dodged backwards out of its reach and retaliated with a Carian Piercer sorcery, stabbing the thing's flank. The abomination screeched and charged at her swinging madly. She deftly avoided each swing before rolling under its swords and shoving her blade through the boy’s chest. The poor child screeched one last time before falling on its side and vanishing in a mist.
The tarnished took a moment to breath before sheathing her blade. She reached down and picked up the thing’s pair of Ornamental Straight Swords before continuing onward, shaken by the disgusting encounter. 'Who would do such an awful thing?', she wondered, continuing to walk across the small island. Lost in thought, she didn't realize she was walking towards a cliff edge until she almost stepped off. She laughed a little at her carelessness and turned to walk back. As she turned, however, the ledge crumbled and she found herself falling into the waters below.
...
"Worry not, Torrent,:" a gentle voice said, "this one is strong,"
Reva awoke once more and found herself awakening in a damp, dark place. Pushing off of the ground and standing up, she pulled her hood back over her head and looked around. It seemed she now found herself in a cave with a stone door set into one wall. The only light in the cave came from a golden sapling that gave off a faint golden glow. Irritated and grumbling at her misfortune of having a ledge crumble under her feet, she walked towards the door, which she imagined to be an exit.
As she walked through the catacomb-esk structure, she found a small site of grace, and touched it, allowing her some rest after the harrowing couple of hours she had. After resting at the grace, she continued on until she found another door. Pushing it open, the tarnished was treated to a stunning view of Limgrave and the Erdtree. She paused and admired the view for a bit, taking comfort in the sight of unrestrained life and beauty around her.
Re-focusing, Reva turned towards the site of grace, touching it briefly, before walking up to an odd man in a white mask and old war surgeon garb, standing near the ledge of the small hill she found herself on.
"Ahh, Tarnished are we?", the man asked in a sultry voice, rubbing his hands together, "Vying for the Elden Ring, I am sure. But, unfortunately for you... you are Maidenless."
Reva stared at the man in disbelief, "Did you just insult a demi-god?"
"It was no insult, lambkin, just an observation," the man seemed to pause for a second, "But, whatever did you mean by 'demi-god'?"
Reva straightened, towering over the smaller man, "I am Grand Adjudicator Reva, the Blade of Caria. Daughter to Rennala and Radagon, and therefore, demi-god."
The White Mask tilted his head, "How curious...", he paused, "I apologize for not recognizing you, Omen-friend. Most paintings do not depict you with a hood. I am the White Mask Varré. It was a pleasure to meet you."
The tarnished relaxed somewhat, "Apology accepted, White Mask Varré, it was a pleasure to meet you as well."
Walking away from the strangely uncomfortable encounter, Reva continued down the hill from the site of grace and followed the road. As she was walking, she saw a large person sat upon a massive horse in the distance. Somehow uninterested in fighting something twice her size so soon after falling off a cliff, she snuck past the towering figure and into the ruins of what seemed to be a church.
Touching the site of grace set in the middle of the grass covered ground, Reva continued over to a small man holding an instrument next to a campfire. A horse snorted next to him.
"A customer," the man said, his face hidden by a red scarf. The man was wearing red and white traveling garb, with a red knit cap upon his head. "I am Kalé, humble merchant and nomad. Would you perhaps be interested in purchasing a little something?”
Reva considered the man for a moment before shrugging, “Why not. Although, I must apologize, I haven’t much in the way of currency.”
“Do you have any items you’d be willing to trade instead?” The merchant asked.
“I do have these,” Reva replied.
The Tarnished flicked her wrist through the air and a Carian sigil appeared, glowing a faint dark blue. She reached her arm into the sigil and then pulled the Grafted Scion’s swords out of the royal sigil.
Kalé’s eyes widened, “How did you manage that?”
“It’s a sorcery that my brother devised when we were young, he called it ‘The Carian Storeroom’,” the woman smiled in fond remembrance of her little brother. “He would often use it to hide mother’s books so that he could study them long into the night. We would often joke that his title should have been Bookworm Rykard.” The Omenfriend’s smile faltered, her face becoming serious once more, “it works by placing items into a sort of magical storage space, one that a learned sorcery can access at most anytime.
Kalé laughed a little, reaching for the swords. “These will do nicely,” he said, taking them and placing them behind him, “If you don’t mind, I would suggest the crafting kit, the tools within will allow you to make useful items from ingredients you come across.”
Reva considered the offer for a moment, “Very well,” she said, “I would like the crafting kit please.”
Kalé seemed to smile under his scarf, “An excellent choice my lady. Pleasure doing business with you.”
Turning away from the merchant and walking through one of the destroyed walls of the chapel, Reva continued up a small dirt path that led to the north. As she walked, she thought of her siblings, and wondered how each had fared over the years. She strained to remember what had happened, and the events leading to her waking up in that church off the coast. Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the soldier bearing down on her until his sword had almost reached her neck.
Startled, Reva reflexively grabbed the double edged sword in a fist. Wincing as she felt the blade bit into her skin, she reached for her katana, unsheathing it and slicing the man’s stomach open in one simple move. As the man fell over, the Tarnished flicked the blood of her blade and sheathed it. She was confused at first, it didn’t make sense why this lowly foot soldier would so boldly attack a person three heads taller than him, and wearing clothes dignifying them as a person of power. Then she saw the poor man’s face. It was gray and sunken. He looked not dissimilar to a rotting corpse.
She started. Ranni was right, she thought grimly. Ranni, along with Rykard at times, warned of the consequences of having a deathless kingdom. Living for too long turned ordinary people into this; sunken, mindless corpses, only following orders and oaths from their masters with no humanity left in them.
Her palm throbbed with pain, she glanced down at it in irritance before reaching into the Carian Storeroom and removing some bandages from god knows how long ago. Things didn’t age in the Storeroom however, so they were still fresh. Wrapping her hand as she continued down the path, Reva eventually came to a hill, and the end of the treeline. It was night, but the Erdtree’s light was bright enough to see clearly. She looked out over the ruins of what seemed to be a small outpost, teeming with soldiers. To the left of the ruins, she saw a large gate set into the cliff. If she remembered correctly, that would be Stormgate, the first checkpoint leading up Stormhill to Stormveil. Deciding to get through Stormgate later, she started towards the ruins.
As she approached the collapsed structures, a soldier with a greatshield and spear charged her. Tired, cranky, and not wanting any more injuries. Reva simply unsheathed her katana, sidestepped the man, let him run past her, and then stabbed him clean through the spine before continuing on.
Coming upon another soldier sitting around a campfire, the Tarnished crouched down and snuck up behind him. Reva reached around the soldier, covering his mouth and shoving her blade right through his heart. He let out a muffled cry before slumping over. Another soldier saw her. Thinking not much of it, Reva rushed him, expecting a clash of swords. To her surprise, the man reached for the trumpet on his belt and let out a single long note.
Damn, she thought, cleaving the trumpet-blower’s head from his body. She heard the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching her. Turning, she saw a knight with an oblong helmet charging toward her, wielding a menacing-looking spear and greatshield. The knight stabbed at her and Reva knocked the spear to the side with her katana before stabbing into the shoulder of the large man’s shield arm, causing him to drop the shield. The knight recovered quickly, taking a wide swing at the Tarnished. Reva retaliated with a Glinstone pebble to the knight's face. Disoriented, the knight clutched at his now scorched helmet. The Omenfriend took this opportunity to drive her blade deep into the knight’s chest. She twisted and removed the sword. The knight knelt down onto one knee before finally collapsing and disappearing into a cloud of mist.
Reva took a moment to breathe. The moment was cut short however, by the thundering of more soldiers. She looked up. It seemed the entire outpost was now bearing down on her. Six soldiers and two hounds were charging at her at full sprint. The Blade of Caria closed her eyes, and reached for a lineage of power only her family could lay claim to.
She levitated several feet into the air, curling her body into a ball. She remembered. She remembered the Moon that she had found in her youth under the guidance of her mother. Her Moon. And she turned that remembrance into a lethal weapon.
A blazing, fiery Blood Moon took shape.
It released from her bodily catalyst, floating slowly towards the small group of soldiers and hounds.
The mad enemies stopped, watching in awe and terror as the heretical Moon came closer and closer. As it came nearer, one man reached out to touch it, entranced by the beauty of such a thing. As soon as his finger grazed it, it exploded.
The group was engulfed in bloodflame, the scorching fire burning them from the inside out. They hemorrhaged as it called forth their blood. Soon, they all collapsed.
Planted firmly back on the ground, Reva opened her eyes.
…
In Liurnia, halfway across the Lands Between, a disgraced queen and a bodiless princess paused. They sensed something, something they hadn’t felt in a very long time.
A third Moon.
…
Reva stumbled her way through the outpost, seeing the golden lines of Grace guiding her to a site of merciful rest in front of the Stormgate.
She reached the site and touched it, collapsing.
She felt she could breathe again, clearly all this time had taken a toll on her.
As she worried somewhat about how much that had taken out of her, a figure in a hooded, dark brown cloak materialized.
The figure knelt down and spoke to Reva in a soft voice, “Greetings, lost child of Caria,” the figure reached up and removed her hood, revealing a beautiful woman with light brown hair and an odd marking over one closed eye, “I am Melina. I offer you an accord.”