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The Black Blade Kindred stepped aside, their massive, obsidian form bowing slightly to Tarnished and Melina. The motion was silent, ceremonial, and deliberate. It felt less like a gesture of submission, and more like one of old respect.
Tarnished nodded toward him in acknowledgment, casually tossing, "Appreciate it, big guy," before turning his gaze to the large doors ahead.
He walked slowly, the silence inside the sanctum heavy as ancient stone. Melina walked close beside him, her steps light but alert.
Marika floated at their side atop her golden cloud of grace, unusually still.
Tarnished turned his head slightly toward her. "How you holding up?"
Marika groaned and rolled her eyes in a snap of frustration.
"I am about to stand before my sworn Shadow. My brother. Whom I all but left abandoned for millennia. And who, you informed me, is no longer in his right mind." Her voice sharpened with every word, the golden light around her crackling ever so slightly. "How do you think I feel, you blithering fool?! I am feeling incredible!"
"...Sarcasm is unbecoming of you, my Goddess."
"Oh, stop being a prick!"
Melina sighed audibly at what she heard from their conversation, though there was the barest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.
They stepped past the threshold and into the Bestial Sanctum.
The interior was cavernous, quiet, and cold. The sanctum's stone walls were blackened with age, the floor marred by old claw marks and dark streaks of blood. The scent of rot hung like an invisible fog. At the far end of the hall sat a hulking figure cloaked in shadow and rags. He was massive, unmoving, and still as death itself..
Gurranq, The Beast Clergyman.
Or more accurately, it was Maliketh, The Black Blade. Sworn Shadow of Queen Marika the Eternal.
His posture was hunched, back curled beneath a ragged cloak that did little to hide the monstrous form beneath. One hand gripped a hunk of deathroot like a crutch, talons buried deep into the rotting mass.
They all stared at Maliketh in silence.
The solemn stillness was broken only by a faint shimmer, Marika's cloud of grace dissolving beneath her without a word. She floated downward slowly, her bare feet touching the stone floor with a soundless grace. Her eyes never left him.
She stood still for a moment, her hands clasped at her waist, golden hair drifting in the ambient breeze of the sanctum.
"My Shadow…" She whispered softly, almost breathless, the words catching in her throat. "What hath become of thee…?"
Her voice, laced with pain, echoed off the dark walls. "The years have not been kind to thee…"
Her gaze dropped to the deathroot clutched weakly in his claws. The decay seeping into his flesh. His ragged cloak. The hunched posture, barely holding together what was once the most disciplined warrior in the Lands Between.
"Such a burden… Could not fall to thee alone." She whispered. "Even if Destined Death was stolen under thy guard… This- This was too cruel. Far too cruel…"
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but before they could fall, she crushed them down with a clenched jaw and forced herself to breathe. She stepped back slowly to the side of the chamber, leaning gently against the wall as her composure rebuilt itself piece by piece.
She sat in silence, hair falling over her face like a veil. And then, she muttered under her breath. "Had I known thy burden would devour thee so… I would have broken the world to free thee myself."
Tarnished spared her a glance, watching her in the dim golden light, then turned his attention back to Maliketh. He took one cautious step forward. Melina followed beside him, her eye narrowing as she looked Maliketh up and down. Curiosity sharpened her tone.
"…Are you sure this is Maliketh?" She asked in a low voice. "He seems… nothing like the legends say."
Before Tarnished could respond, Gurranq twitched. There was a sudden, sharp intake of breath, sniffing.
"That scent…" His head snapped upward as Two golden canine eyes gleamed from beneath the shadow of his hood, locked directly onto Melina, like he was looking straight through her and onto something else.
"That flame… That blood…"
Tarnished took half a step back. "Wait, what-?"
Before either of them could react, Maliketh vanished.
There was no flash, no sound.
He was simply gone.
And then, he was in front of Melina, gently wrapping his massive arms around her. Cradling her like something impossibly precious and fragile.
Tarnished's eyes widened in shock. "What the-?!"
He stumbled back, barely keeping himself standing straight. 'I didn't even see him move! When did he-?! How is he that fast?!'
Marika's voice echoed in his head with an edge of reverent pride. "Of course he is. He is faster than thou could ever hope to comprehend, as thou art now. He is my Shadow. The Black Blade. He is Death itself."
Maliketh let out a low, deep sigh and slowly stepped back, releasing Melina from his arms. She stumbled slightly, overwhelmed, breathing fast.
Then, slowly, Maliketh lowered himself to one knee, planting his clawed fist to the stone. His voice was slow, careful, and ancient. "Daughter of Marika… Firstborn of the Golden Line… Twin to the Impaler, Messmer…"
"Melina… You… live?" He lifted his gaze to her, eyes shining like fire through fog.
Melina gasped softly, the words struck her like a thunderbolt. She had never expected to be remembered.
Certainly not like this.
"Princess…" He continued, the word trembling with sorrow. "I believed thee perished… When thy fire consumed thee, child. Forgive me… I failed to protect thee."
Tarnished stepped forward without a word and placed a firm hand on Melina's shoulder, gently pulling her to his side. Protective. Steady. Grounding her before she collapsed under the weight of revelation.
Maliketh's eyes narrowed as he studied Tarnished's face. His stance. His soul. Like a beast scenting blood and purpose.
"I have a twin brother…?" Melina looked at Tarnished, stunned. She breathed, then blinked again. "Wait… Princess? My fire did what…?"
She turned to Tarnished with a thousand questions behind her eye.
"…It's a long story. I was gonna get to it eventually…" Tarnished said as he exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his head. He turned to Marika, whose face was tense, her jaw clenched like she was biting down on glass.
"…Among other things."
The heavy silence within the Beastial Sanctum stretched just a little longer before Maliketh, still knelt beside Melina, slowly rose to his full height. His cloak shifted with the movement, revealing glimpses of the jagged, blackened armor beneath, though his face remained partially hidden in shadow.
His golden, lupine eyes drifted from Melina to Tarnished, narrowing with thought as he took a slow step forward and muttered in his gravel-thick voice.
"You…" He said, sniffing the air once more. "I can sense her presence upon thee. Her Grace clings to thy very soul and body… Burning like a bonfire that threatens to blot out the sun."
He leaned forward slightly, the faint, dry rustle of his cloak echoing through the hollowed hall. A low growl rumbled in his throat as his gaze sharpened.
"And…" Maliketh growled. "Thou stink of draconic essence. It rolls off thee like smoke from a dying forge. Thou art not simply a Man. Nor art thou Dragon. Thou art something else… something in between."
He straightened fully again, head cocked to one side as his voice took on an edge of wariness. "So I ask thee plainly, who art thou? What is thy true connection to Marika?"
Tarnished exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, shifting slightly under the weight of Maliketh's ancient scrutiny. "Uh… yeah, so, that's not an easy question. And there's really no simple way to say it. Long story short – and trust me, I'm skipping the weird bits – I'm Marika's chosen Champion. She picked me. I'm here to free her from the Erdtree and bring about a new age for the Lands Between."
"I've seen more false prophets than stars in the sky…" Maliketh's ears flicked slightly beneath the ragged edges of his hood, his golden eyes narrowing further.
"Most are filled with delusion, their tongues slick with lies and honey. But… the outpouring of Grace from thy soul, it burns as bright as hers once did. And the fact that Marika's daughter stands by thy side…" He trailed off.
Tarnished gave a small shrug and a half-smile. "Yeah, I get it. If I were in your position, I'd be skeptical too. Honestly, I wouldn't believe me either if I wasn't the one living through all this madness."
Maliketh grunted. With a faint shuffle of movement, he turned his back to them and walked with a weary gait back to the stone dais where he had once sat as Gurranq, the Beast Clergyman.
He lowered himself to the stone with a pained groan, muscles heavy with time and burden. Then, with a nod of his head, he gestured to the space before him. "Then come. Sit. If nothing else, speak plainly."
Tarnished and Melina stepped forward, seating themselves across from him on the stone floor, still warm from where sunlight filtered through high cracks in the sanctum's ancient dome.
Tarnished clasped his hands together, his voice more earnest now. "All that really matters is this, Marika chose me. And I'm not going to let her down. She's guiding me, step by step, and I'm going to do what I can to fix all the messes this family left behind."
He nodded toward Melina. "And she's helping me every step of the way. My Maiden. My partner. My…" He paused, grinning at her. "Constant source of righteous fire and sass."
Melina tilted her head slightly but gave a nod of agreement. "I believe in his path. And in her Grace."
Maliketh stared at them for a long moment in silence. Then, slowly, he spoke. "If thou truly art guided by her hand… then prove it. Tell me something only she would know. Something no puppet or charlatan could guess."
Tarnished blinked and turned to Marika, who had been leaning quietly against the gate's edge, watching it all with veiled emotion. She stepped forward, approaching him with slow, regal steps. When she reached his side, she leaned down and whispered something into his ear.
Tarnished arched a brow at her. "Seriously? That's what you're going with?"
She only nodded. "Say it. He will know."
Tarnished sighed and turned back toward Maliketh. "She told me to say, and I quote… 'The Jockstrap Incident'."
Maliketh blinked.
Then, to Tarnished's utter shock, the ancient Shadow of Marika closed his eyes and nodded solemnly. "So… She truly is guiding thee."
Tarnished stared. "Okay, wait- What the fuck is 'The Jockstrap Incident'?"
Without missing a beat, both Marika and Maliketh replied at the exact same time:
"You do not want to know."
Their voices were so perfectly in sync that the acoustics of the sanctum almost echoed them twice. Tarnished frowned, bewildered. "I kinda do now…"
"No." They both said again, firmer this time.
Melina, who had been observing the exchange with growing fascination, tilted her head curiously. "What is a jockstrap?"
There was a beat of total silence.
And then, like a chorus of divine exasperation, all three of them turned toward her and said in unison:
"Don't worry about it."
"But…" Melina pouted, visibly confused.
"Tell her to forget it existed." Marika added firmly.
"'Tis a cursed artifact." Maliketh muttered grimly, as if recalling a traumatic event.
Tarnished groaned into his hands. "This family, man. I swear…"
"Whatever." Melina muttered with mild annoyance, brushing some ash from her shoulder. She let out a soft huff as she stood up, dusting off her robe and adjusting the folds of her cloak.
"I am going to take a moment to… Relieve myself." With a faint shimmer, her form dissolved into a swirl of pale blue mist, leaving Tarnished and Maliketh alone in the Sanctum.
There was a brief pause before Maliketh let out a ragged, weary sigh. The kind that came not from fatigue of the body, but of the soul. His voice, though still gravelly, was quieter now. "Then tell me… Champion of Marika, what is thy name?"
Tarnished froze.
His expression twisted like he had just swallowed a particularly sour lemon. His shoulders slumped, and he stared at the floor like it might offer an escape.
After a long moment, he raised his gaze and sighed through his nose. 'Marika… can I just say part of it? Please tell me I don't have to use the whole damn thing.'
From her usual place just off to the side, Marika grinned slyly and folded her hands over her lap, reclining on her radiant cloud. "I don't know~! Maybe thou can… maybe thou can't~! Try and see what happens~!"
Tarnished groaned internally. 'This need of yours to embarrass me is seriously uncool. I'm your Champion, remember? You like having me around.'
"Oh, very much so!" She giggled, her voice dripping with mirth. "But that doth not mean I don't enjoy watching thee squirm every now and then~."
With an exasperated sigh, Tarnished turned back toward Maliketh and reluctantly said, "My name is… John Elden Ring. But please, just call me Tarnished when Melina's around. She doesn't know about it yet."
Maliketh stared.
He blinked once. Slowly. "...John Elden Ring?"
Marika, meanwhile, had completely lost it, doubled over in laughter, wiping away tears of mirth from her eyes. Tarnished grumbled under his breath. "I didn't choose it, okay?!"
Maliketh tilted his head ever so slightly. "...Whatever thou says… John Elden Ring."
"God…" Tarnished muttered, facepalming. "Fuck you, Helios. Fuckin' prick…"
"Enough." Marika said at last as she slowly calmed herself, though an amused smirk still lingered on her face. "There is something I must tell him. Pass this on exactly as I say it."
Tarnished raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Alright. Maliketh, Marika wants to tell you something."
The beast's golden eyes flickered with sudden alertness. His breath caught as Marika stood up and glided a little closer.
Her voice turned softer now. Heavier. "Maliketh… Thy duty is ended. Thou hast done far more than enough."
Tarnished echoed her words faithfully, his voice steady despite the gravity of the message. "She commands you to lay down your blade. To stop this hunt for Deathroot. Devouring it yourself is not the answer… and it never was."
Maliketh slowly rose from his seated position, his form casting a long shadow across the ancient floor. His fists clenched slightly at his sides. "But… this is my sin. My failure. The theft of Destined Death happened under my watch. What else can this burden be, but mine to bear?"
"It is not thy burden to bear. Not any longer. I would never have asked it of thee had I known what it would cost…" Marika's expression softened with pain as her voice faltered, barely audible now. "Thou must rest. Please… until my return."
Maliketh looked torn, like a man offered salvation and yet afraid to take it. But the promise of rest after countless ages of penance stirred something in him, something old, something fragile.
He turned his gaze to Tarnished and locked eyes with him. "John Elden Ring… do you truly believe it possible?"
His voice was low, nearly a whisper. "Do you truly have what it takes to conquer the Lands Between once again? To rise against gods and legends alike? The Demigods of this land… they are titans in both strength and madness."
He took a step forward, golden eyes boring into Tarnished's very soul.
"Art thou prepared to challenge all of it… in order to become Elden Lord?"
Tarnished didn't blink. Instead, he smirked, a fire behind his eyes. "Conquer? Nah. I don't wanna conquer anything! I don't care about ruling this place like some tyrant. I'm here for the ride, man. For the adventure. To fix what got broken. And if becoming Elden Lord is how I do that? Then hell yeah, I'm in."
There was a long silence.
Even Marika stood still, eyes on Maliketh, waiting.
"...Perhaps." The ancient beast muttered as his lip curled into a small, weary smirk. "Marika chose correctly. For once."
Tarnished chuckled and turned toward Marika with a smug look plastered across his face. "Is that so?"
She sighed, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. "Don't let thy head swell over one off-handed compliment, my Champion."
And just then, with a shimmer of blue mist, Melina reappeared beside them. She glanced between the two of them, confused by the quiet but intense expressions.
"…What did I miss?" she asked cautiously.
Maliketh turned his gaze to her, that small smirk still present. "Nothing, child. Only… the first sign of hope I have seen in an age."
Maliketh slowly turned his head, golden eyes gleaming dimly in the low Sanctum light as he addressed Tarnished again, though his words carried beyond him, directed at someone only he and the Champion could truly hear.
"…Since thou art tethered to her, Champion, I would ask thee deliver a question to our Queen. One that hath festered within me… since the Shattering. Since the day our world was undone."
Tarnished's face hardened at Maliketh's tone. It wasn't anger, it wasn't bitterness. It was the kind of ancient sorrow that lingered within the depths of your soul..
He glanced to the side, to where Marika lingered in spectral form, her body half-lit by the golden glow of her clouded Grace. And as Maliketh continued, her expression froze entirely, like someone who had waited thousands of years for this moment and dreaded it every second.
Tarnished looked back toward Maliketh. "…What's your question?"
The Beast clergyman's jaw clenched, and he lowered his head slightly. His voice was low and guttural, yet laced with something almost… mournful.
"…Why, Marika…?" He murmured.
"Why didst thou shatter the Elden Ring?"
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Author's Note:
Took me longer than I'd have liked to get to this moment, but we are here anyways!
Should be fun…
Anyways, hand over them Power Stones, will ya?
…
Next Chapter Title: What is the Elden Ring?
…
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