The utterly dejected Mohg was being mercilessly beaten by his hardhearted father. Godfrey had been born a barbarian, and his entire philosophy of parenting could be summed up in one word: hit. His son's long-overdue fatherly beating might have come years late, but it had finally arrived.
The noise around them was comparable to a construction site.
Skyl stood before the Cocoon of the Empyrean atop the altar, with Millicent and Malenia beside him.
Malenia gently held Miquella's hand. The woman who had spent so long keeping a lonely vigil at the roots of the Haligtree had now fallen completely still, like a blade returned to its sheath or a mountain buried beneath snow. What Miquella meant to Malenia had long since transcended ordinary affection between people.
Skyl could sense the resonance between the Orders carried by Malenia and Miquella.
Miquella bore an Order of Abundance, which formed a complementary natural cycle with Malenia's Order of Rot.
Skyl was something of an expert himself, yet seeing these two Orders resonate still gave him new insights. Thinking back to his ideas regarding necromantic druids, he found himself developing several new thoughts about the conversion between positive and negative energy. Truth had no end, and there was always another mountain to climb. He didn't know everything after all. Apparently, he still had plenty left to learn.
The bond between Miquella and Malenia ran so deep that they were almost two souls inhabiting a single whole. Perhaps they could originally have been one being, an Empyrean who perfectly fused the Orders of life and death, growth and decay. Such a being might even have surpassed Godwyn the Golden at his peak.
But Miquella had now been contaminated by blood, and his Order was no longer completely pure.
Malenia intended to take Miquella back to the Haligtree, but before that, she still planned to cut Mohg apart.
Godfrey released the barely conscious Mohg and watched Malenia approach one step at a time. He could not help sighing.
"He is one of only two sons I have left. I won't let you kill him."
The First Elden Lord did not plead with her. He merely stated his decision. As for what Malenia thought about it, he cared, but not enough to change his mind.
Skyl chose not to stay and watch. What was so entertaining about an old man fighting a woman? A father beating his son was much more amusing.
Millicent likewise showed no interest in anyone else.
The swordswoman quietly asked, "Skyl, what exactly did you mean earlier by the morality of gods?"
She rarely asked Skyl for anything, even answers. But Millicent was genuinely curious about the morality he had spoken of. Understanding it would let her understand him a little better.
"There's no such thing. I was just talking." Skyl shook his head. "If you really insist on defining it, then the biggest differences between divine morality and mortal morality would simply be breadth and depth."
"Breadth and depth?"
"Mortals spend their lives struggling to survive, so they tend to regard outsiders with suspicion and hostility. A hero in one country may be a demon in another. Mortal morality is usually confined to one's own people. That's a lack of breadth."
"And depth?"
"A tree is cut down, but shrubs flourish beside the stump. A wildfire is extinguished, only for the forest to later die from an insect infestation. Some tragedies that seem regrettable at the time may benefit people a century later, while good deeds done today may eventually produce terrible consequences. Mortals tend to judge historical figures according to the immediate good or harm they caused, and they cannot usually look at present virtue or evil and see where it will lead generations later. That's a lack of depth."
Millicent nodded. She thought for a moment before asking, "If a mortal possessed morality that was just as broad and deep, could they be considered to possess the mindset of a god?"
"Sure. Most likely everyone would think they were insane. In rarer cases, they might become someone remarkable."
Millicent smiled. "Why?"
"Because morality can't be separated from the soil in which it grows. While I walk the earth, I follow mortal morality too."
She turned around and resumed guarding Skyl's back, having received the answer she wanted.
Skyl fixed his gaze on the enormous cocoon and reached toward Miquella within it through his spiritual intuition.
Mortals with exceptionally powerful intuition could sometimes slip into the dreams of divine beings. The landscapes within such dreams were born from the experiences and imagination of gods. Because those visions were so complete, their earth, stone, grass, and trees possessed both form and essence. Everything existed within them, from microscopic material structures to macroscopic phenomena and even the logic of historical change. To a mortal, such a dream was indistinguishable from a real world.
That was precisely why some mortals who entered a god's dream believed they had been transported into another world, and some might never wake again.
Skyl entered Miquella's dream as though stepping through a mirror made of water.
The scenery before him changed abruptly. The desolate surroundings of Mohgwyn Palace faded away, and the lingering stench of blood vanished from the air.
In the next instant, Skyl found himself standing in the sewers beneath Leyndell, Royal Capital.
The dark drainage tunnels were choked with mud, sewage, and rotting filth. Slugs larger than dogs clung to the ceiling and walls, while enormous mutated rats rustled through the darkness. Every living thing searched through the muck for food, including the corpses of its own kind.
The air was not merely foul, it was poisonous. Fine particles of excrement and waste seeped into the lungs, leaving the entire body permeated with a stench that refused to fade.
This was where Leyndell had discarded its Omen children, thrown down here alongside garbage and sewage.
Skyl thought that this probably wasn't Miquella's past.
It was Mohg's.
Even so, the owner of the dream remained Miquella. He had already noticed Skyl's arrival, but had yet to reveal himself.
Inside another person's dream, Skyl's condition was no different from that of an ordinary human. He had no divine power, not even magicka.
His Order, however, remained.
Having only just confronted the Formless Mother, Skyl had already become quite familiar with worlds like this. So he behaved exactly as a guest should and calmly waited for his host to respond.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the dark sewer.
Skyl turned around.
Two young Omens approached.
They were similar in build. Although the horns and scales covering their bodies grew in chaotic, irregular patterns, there were enough similarities to reveal their relationship. They were brothers, equally gloomy, equally distant, yet their movements were remarkably synchronized. It was obvious that they had spent years at each other's side, supporting one another.
Each brother carried prey. Strings of rat brains and tails hung over their shoulders, the parts of the sewer creatures that were not poisonous.
They walked directly toward Skyl but clearly could not see him. They passed straight through his body as though he were nothing more than an illusion.
Skyl turned and followed them.
These two Omens had to be Morgott and Mohg.
At this point, they were still only children, perhaps eight years old, though both were already taller than Skyl's adult human body.
Skyl examined them carefully. The one who had broken off his own curved horns was almost certainly Morgott. He was surprisingly heavyset at this age, with none of the gaunt appearance he would have years later. Omens had physiques that seemed capable of growing stronger on practically nothing. They were born to be warriors.
The brothers had not gone far before a chaotic burst of footsteps came from around the next bend.
More Omen children emerged. These were smaller and gathered around Morgott and Mohg without saying a word. They took the food from the brothers' hands and immediately began eating it raw.
Given the physique of an Omen, even a three- or four-year-old could probably fight off a pack of wolves, and the sewers were full of rats. They shouldn't have been starving.
Skyl quickly guessed the reason.
The stronger Omens must have been preventing them from hunting.
It was no different from a lion pride, where the strongest ate first, while weaker scavengers were left to gnaw whatever remained. The society down here operated by the laws of animals.
Sure enough, several larger, stronger Omens followed the smaller children and discovered Morgott and Mohg secretly feeding them.
There were no threats or arguments.
They immediately started fighting.
This was still the age before the Shattering, and neither Morgott nor Mohg was yet a Shardbearer. The two brothers were beaten brutally. If they had not fought desperately enough to cripple several of their opponents, things might have ended far worse.
The Omen children they had fed fled long before the fight was over.
Afterward, only the brothers remained, supporting each other as they limped into a rusted pipe.
The underground beneath Leyndell was vast and labyrinthine, almost a city unto itself. Hidden passages at its deepest levels connected to the roots of the Erdtree, and no one knew how many secrets lay buried in the sewers.
Skyl followed the brothers into a basement.
After entering, Morgott lit a torch and knelt silently before a statue of Marika. He gripped a Sacred Seal and cast an Incantation, healing both himself and Mohg.
Once they had both recovered, Mohg did not even glance at Marika's statue. He simply turned and left without saying goodbye.
Morgott watched his brother's departing back with a gaze heavier than stone.
Since Mohg was the true owner of these memories, Skyl could only continue following him through the pipes.
Where was he going?
The farther they traveled, the darker and more ruined their surroundings became. Eventually, even the ever-present rats disappeared.
Mohg arrived beside a pool of filthy water.
Without changing expression, he stepped straight in and began swimming beneath the surface.
Skyl opened a Door and stepped through. His body became intangible, ghostlike, allowing him to enter the water without disturbing so much as a ripple.
After crossing the sewage, they finally reached their destination.
The moment they emerged from beneath the water, even Skyl could not help marveling at what he saw.
Hidden within this lightless realm of filth was a magnificent field of flowers bursting with color.
A shaft of sunlight descended through an opening high above and illuminated the cavern.
Standing amid the sea of flowers was a blond child in a white dress, bathed in radiance, her long golden hair shining like the sun.
Mohg stood far away, drenched and reeking from the sewage, with wounds still visible across his body.
For the first time, his hard face showed shame and timid uncertainty.
The golden-haired girl walked gently through the flowers and took the Omen child's hand.
She was brighter than the light and more abundant than the flowers.
She was Miquella's other half.
St. Trina.
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