Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1: THE ONYX LORD
Heat.
No air.
Burning.
My chest heaves as the oppressive weight of black charcoal-burnt earth is cleared from my body. My eyes don't open. Do I even have eyes anymore, or are they a charred fixture at the top of what used to be my face? Air rushes around me as I'm pulled out of the earth and carried for who knows how long in a different direction. I hear a muffled voice, but my ears are melted shut.
I don't know how long I am carried before a strange sleep overtakes me. A strange sleep followed by an even stranger dream.
The Tarnished writhes on the ground as the burn boils their blood. The husk of the fallen goddess crumbles before them. All around them, the yellow flame rises and crackles. The heat is as glorious as it is unbearable. They feel as though they're going to melt. Their armor, shorn from Marika's hound, fills with sweat. Are they dying? Did they lose? Was this the end? Had the Three Fingers and their embrace been too much for them after all?
Oh, how the painful thoughts press and press against the Tarnished's skull. Pressing becomes pounding. Pounding becomes exploding. Exploding. That's what's happening. Their very skull bursts open, but somehow, they do not die.
Arise.
The voice pierces through the Tarnished. Their blood boils. They open their mouths to scream, but only feel the burning eruption of yellow fire as it explodes. Their skin. Their skull. Their eyes. Their brain. All of it melts away in favor of the burning singularity that now floats above their neck.
I suck in a breath and jolt up from the cold stone slab I was laid on. My eyes flutter open - blurry at first, but slowly gaining focus. Memories of fire still burn across my skin. My arms rush to pat away flames that aren't there. I let out a wail, like a newborn fresh into an unforgiving world. They try to find purchase in the cool blue light emanating from the new moon almost directly above them, but every time they close their eyes, they see the purulent chaos again.
"Take a deep breath, sweeting." Her voice, like a mother's embrace, wraps around me. There is no warmth, only a cool breeze. It was like walking along a riverbank at night, but I've never truly experienced it either.
My eyes follow the voice across the room. Sitting amongst large stacks of various hues of glintstone - at least, I think it's called glintstone - is an alabaster woman. Long, brown hair flows on either side of her. A cracked egg of amber floats on at her side, oozing a strange gold light that drains upwards towards a vast visage of a bright new moon. She doesn't look at me, only at the shimmering stones around her.
"Where…?" I try to utter a word, but my throat burns. It seems I'm not totally healed from whatever befell me.
"Oh, dear." A small voice erupts from the far side of the room. I turn to see a small, hunched creature outfitted in a similar, flowy robe; only this one was pitch black with white trim. A leather hat sits atop the creature's head. He rushes towards me, his snout scrunched up into what I could only assume was a smile. "Don't mind the madame. She's deep in her studies - apologies, good sir, I was meant to be here when you awoke. Boc's the name."
Boc holds out a small, wrinkled hand. I take it.
"Try not to speak. My Lady warned that you're still healing up." An urgent compassion strikes at my heart. What does this Boc care so much about my well-being? In fact, why have I risen from what I assume to be a fiery death? More questions race through my mind the longer I'm awake, but I nod my head. The passage of time eludes me, but I must sit there for hours being tended to. Boc cleans me. He feeds me. He helps me drink water. All of it is intermingled with small tidbits of information. I know that we are in a place called Raya Lucaria, and that strange woman is named Lunar Queen Rennala. I know that I was saved by an influential person whom Boc would only call My Lady. And I am not allowed to leave the confines of the library until My Lady returns. Queen Rennala doesn't say a word, but I do notice a strange, tattered doll at her side. Its hair is a light blue to match its almost teal "skin" coloring. Occasionally, I notice her moving over to smooth the doll's hair or adjust the burnt rags that I assume were clothes.
After what I assume to be a day, my limbs feel less stiff, and the burning sensations across my skin mostly subside. Boc lets me know that they'll never go away. I want to ask him why, but he shakes his head and mutters about unpleasant things. As the day trudges along, I decide that I cannot stand the feeling of the cool stone on my skin and, without telling my caretaker, decide to explore.
The first thing I notice is a shocking lack of windows - or functional windows. As I move through the winding, cavernous hallways, I can see the window frames and even curtains, but whatever view I am meant to take in is concealed by pitch darkness covered in what appears to be stars that feel both incredibly close but also far away.
I choose not to dwell on it.
I make my way through hallways of books, oversized jars, and obsolete observatories. I try to study - to understand what this place's purpose is, but am greeted with nothing but crazed ravings or glintstone projections of just blank night skies that my brain can't possibly fathom. Eventually, I find an old Cathedral with wooden limbs and weapons dangling from the ceiling. I attempt to leave, but outside, I am greeted by more inky darkness, false stars, and an unnatural urge to turn back.
Not wanting to push my luck, I turn back and up a large stairwell when a shimmer catches my eye. I turn to face it, but see nothing but a bare stone wall. I turn again, and again, I see the shimmer. I approach the wall and squint my eyes. I bring my hand up and press it against the brick, but it gives way, fading into nothing and revealing a dark passage away, illuminated by a distant blue glintstone glow. My instincts tell me to turn back, but this time, my curiosity wins out.
At the end of the dark passageway sits an inert sphere of faces - the same faces decorating the many paintings throughout Raya Lucaria - carved in stone with crystal eyes. A thick layer of bright blue glintstone holds it in place. Directly above are black spots that seem to suck in all the light around them.
"And who strolls in the resting place of my former students?"
A female voice, dripping with contempt, reverberates from nowhere.
"Prepare to suffer for your incompetence."
A large blade made of some gold-tinged stone suddenly juts out of the very fabric of reality itself. Inky darkness, not unlike the void outside, bleeds out of it. The blade slices downwards, revealing a tall, bony figure with wispy white hair and blue-black skin. Its gold and black eyes are vacant, with a milky sheen over them. It steps out of its strange voice. I need to find an escape, but the only door appears to be blocked by a green-yellow foam.? Barrier? I have no clue what it is.
Its hand raises. A large void opens up - this one is shrouded in a deep purple. A large obsidian stone slowly rises out of it. I am frozen by fear as it erupts towards me. I bring my hands up and close my eyes. Suddenly, there's an insane weight in my hands, and then a force that throws me backward into the sphere of faces. My eyes open, and I see a large greatsword, at least the size of my body, and almost as thick in my hand. Wisps of white and blue dust emanate from it.
There's no time to think. The creature closes the distance with a vertical, downward slash. I'm ready this time. I roll out of the way, wincing as I'm reminded that I am still not fully recovered. A purple sphere envelopes me, and for a split second, I am weightless. My body surges backward towards the creature. I can feel the sword slide into the meat of my side. I see the shadow of its blade rise into the air.
Alien instincts kick in.
I grip the greatsword in both hands and swing, letting the momentum slam into the fragile frame of my attacker. The creature flies in the direction of my strike. I bring the sword up as it did before and slam it onto the monster's back. Its body stays down. Limp. Dead. The greatsword vanishes from my hands. My chest heaves. The adrenaline wears off, and soreness blooms throughout my arms and legs.
The last thing I see before I collapse is the silhouette of a woman in the doorway as the green fog dissipates.
Red Lightning surges from the tip of the warrior's spear. All of him is phantom red - an invading spirit either from another world or languishing in an evergaol. The Tarnished still notes the curious nature of his armor, covered in strange ridges that almost look like fingerprints. The Tarnished rolls out of the way of the phantom's ancient, heretical incantation.
Only the clink of blades and the clash of red lightning against the ground follow until the warrior doubles over. Yellow fire - the same yellow fire the Tarnished remembered from the Weeping Peninsula - erupts out in all directions. It burns the Tarnished's skin through their thick plate armor. For a second, for a moment, in the back of their eyes… they swear they see something. Or do they feel it?
A beckoning.
As the Tarnish uses their colossal greatsword to smash the phantom's head, dangerous curiosity takes root in the back of their mind.
The sound of reprimand forces me back into consciousness.
"I shouldn't have to remind you of the importance of my research." The voice makes my blood run cold. It's the same one that I assume summoned that gaunt swordsman. "It was mine and Rennala's magic that brought that thing back from the brink. I expect it to be made aware of its place within this institution."
"Had you broken them, what then, Sellen? Or have you made a sudden breakthrough that renders them moot?" Another voice. Calm. Cool. It slides into my brain, both a comfort and a threat. The other voice, Sellen, doesn't respond. She huffs. Echoes of bare feet slapping against stone follow.
"I ask that my research isn't disturbed again. Is that acceptable?" Without waiting for an answer, Sellen leaves, slamming something behind her.
More footsteps come closer to me.
"You may open your eyes. I know that you are awake."
My eyes flutter open, and my breath stops. She stares down at me - one white eye, one a deep purple. Her hair is black as death, and there is a strange burning cold emanating off of her, like touching frigid steel. I open my mouth to stop, but feel her finger on my lips.
"Speak not. Only listen." I close my mouth. "You have been pulled from the brink of death. A spirit almost melted away by the yellow flame of chaos brought on by the misguided heroism of a fool. I am the child of a dead god who seeks to bring that fool their one true destiny, but I find myself unable to do this alone. I am Melina. The Would-be Wielder of Death. I offer you an accord."
My mind races. Her voice. The intensity of her gaze. I feel like I know her. She's important to me. This may be the first time I've genuinely felt something since I first opened my eyes. There is no confusion or fear. Only sweet nostalgia. For what? It doesn't matter.
"Long ago, I sought to play the role of the Finger Maiden. I failed. Now, I will play a different role. I am Saint. You are my Apostle. Together, we shall rally an inquisition to bring an end to the Flame of Chaos. We need only to ignite the cinders with my black flame."
"Yes." The word leaves my mouth, clear as the day. No burn. No pain. Just utter conviction.
Crack. I look around and realize I'm in a room surrounded by windows. The inky black night outside cracks and shatters, giving way to a world torn asunder.