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The Rot-infested water writhes next to you, just like the same Rot writhes within you.
A fitting end for me. Born from the Rot, die of the Rot, you think to yourself.
You can hear faint footsteps approaching, light and agile, like the flow of water. You know instantly who this person is, after all, this is exactly how the two of you have met in the first place. You, half-dead from the Rot, and she came to your rescue with unexpected means.
For a brief moment, a small hope rises within you. Maybe the Tarnished will be my savior once more. However, you quickly rid such nonsense from your fading mind.
Instead, you offer her your gratitude, “Thank you for lending your hand. Without your help, I could not have defeated that quartet.” The pride within you demands these words to be said before you can offer your own parting words.
Pausing and taking a shallow and difficult breath you continue to say, “I feel as if I've been in your debt from beginning to end.”
A true understatement as an understatement can be. You clutch the Shamshir and recall the first exchange you had with the Tarnished after you were back on your own two feet.
She had offered to take you to where you needed to go, pointing to her spectral steed that you would later learn whose name is Torrent.
“You are only recently recovered from Scarlet Rot.” Her words were cold and matter-of-factly, “And you have lost your sword arm.”
An experienced fighter, who can tell which arm is my sword arm from my stance alone. But the pride, that damn pride would not let you accrue more debt from this woman you barely knew. So, you refused her offer.
Unfazed by your refusal, the Tarnished simply walked back toward Torrent. However, instead of mounting the steed, she drew out a curved sword from the saddle.
You recognized the sword as a Shamshir curved sword. How would you know such a thing, you did not know. You looked as the Tarnished pivoted the hilt and gave the sword a few twirls, checking its balance.
Satisfied, she twirled the sword one last time, pointing the hilt toward you while the blade pointed at her own chest.
Is she that gullible or is she a fool? You swallowed a silent gasp.
“Seeing your expression I take that you know of this blade.” The Tarnished asked and to which you nodded in response.
“Then you know this blade is a good choice given your current condition.”
Yes, you knew exactly what the Tarnished had in mind. The lighter weight of the blade would require less strength from you, which you don't have much. The longer blade and larger size will compensate well for the misjudgment of distance, which there will be plenty when wielded by your non-dominant arm.
You were prideful but not foolish. So, you took the sword she offered to you. Feeling just a little bit more like a self you no longer remembered, you, and the Tarnished set off on different paths.
A swirling pain yanks you back to reality. You notice the Tarnished, once again in her signature Blue Clothes, has come near. Her face is still yet her gaze is intense, full of concern and worry. You realize your time is truly running out.
“I pause to even tell you, but... I took out the needle myself. Tell whoever put you up to this. That if I am to flower into something other than myself, I would rather rot into nothingness as I am.” You manage to finish the sentences without breaking your voice.
“I will see to that and some.” The Tarnished says as she steps even closer toward you. She lowers herself onto one knee so you do not have to raise your head in order to speak to her. There is a flash of anger in her eyes now, just as intense as the concerns she is showing.
Breathing suddenly becomes even more difficult than a moment ago and you are certain it is not because of the Rot inside of you. You have come to adore her gaze, compare to her stoic demeanor, her eyes are surprisingly expressive.
You first experienced her intense gaze the second time you met, up in the Altus Plateau. You looked in amazement as the Tarnished casually rode up the small hill you stood on and leaped off her steed. She landed softly while Torrent vanished into a thin blue mist.
She asked you about your journey and you told her that it has been smooth sailing, which was mostly true. The obstacles along the road stood no chance against your sword, even when the sword was wielded by your less dominant arm. It was the small frustration that came with every single slightly misjudged swing that troubled you, knowing you could do better yet unable.
“I realize that if I still had my sword arm, I could have aided you in battle.” It would have been the chance for you to repay her for her kindness, yet all you could offer now is something more like an excuse. The prideful side of you recoiled from such a statement.
The Tarnished raised one of her eyebrows as if you have just said something amusing. But before you had a chance to question her the Tarnished summoned Torrent again. The spectral steed thumped the ground as he appeared out of thin air, causing you to take an involuntary step back.
“Do not freight, he is a friendly being as one can be.” The Tarnished held the rein while saying.
“I am not frightened.” You disagreed instinctively.
To which the Tarnished only nodded once before pulling something out of the saddle on Torrent’s back.
This time you couldn’t contain your gasp as the Tarnished presented you with a full golden prosthetic arm. The golden hue shined alluringly under the Altus Plateau’s afternoon sunlight. This prosthetic arm, with its intricate design, somehow stirred a dormant memory deep within you.
An image of a prosthetic arm holding a long and sharp blade, pointing toward a red sky proudly.
Your heart suddenly started racing, the emotions that were not yours but feel like yours swirled in.
Malenia.
“Giving me this arm?” You asked and the Tarnished nodded in agreement. “I… thank you. I am in your debt, yet again.” Gods, that was such an embarrassing thing to say. “I think, if the arm serves well enough, it might be possible for me to aid you in battle.” You added hastily.
The Tarnished’s eyes were shining although her face portrayed no such emotion. “Would you like to try it on?” She asked.
“Now?!” You couldn’t help but raise your voice.
“Correct, now. To be honest, I’ve been very curious about what these arms are capable of doing.”
“Arms? You mean there are more? And where did you find this arm in the first place?”
“The Saded Castle up north. The lord there seemed to be an admirer of this demi-god Malenia and had the quite impressive collections.”
Malenia .
“Had? Did you kill him?”
“Unimportant.” She waved away your question. “What is important is how well will this arm fit you.” Her voice remained calm but the shine in her eyes have only grown more intense since the beginning of this conversation.
Finally, you gave in, “Very well, I will put this arm on.”
“This is not working.” You hissed through your clenched teeth. All pretense of remaining calm has evaporated since the last failed attempt to perform more advanced moves.
The Tarnished, sitting on a rock near the clearing, has been studying your moves the whole time and appeared to be deep in thoughts, giving your words no response.
Gripped the hilt hard with the prosthetic, you tried to calm yourself. The prosthetic is weighty, making it more difficult to maintain balance during each move. While the arm itself was capable of performing nibble movements, you have yet to master the control, every move performed worse than using your left arm.
A little thumping noise let you know that the Tarnished has jumped off the rock she was sitting on.
“Your fighting style is one that my people use.” The voice of the Tarnished reached you from behind. “Where did you learn this style, or why would you choose to use this style in fights, I do not know.”
The Tarnished secured your wrists from behind before you had the chance to turn and face her.
“Wha…” You wanted to question but your words were cut short.
“But you do have the mastery over this style which makes it easier for me to assist.” The Tarnished continued to say, ignoring your reaction. “In my past life, a place far, far away from Lands Between, my people ride, and fight.”
The Tarnished continued to speak while guiding your body into different positions, “Many of my people have lost parts of their bodies, limbs, eyes, or fingers. The prosthetic is not the hinder.”
Her words tickled the back of your neck and suddenly her grips felt searing hot. You thanked the gods that she was behind you and couldn’t see your face.
Sensing you tensing, the Tarnished backed ever so slightly, leaving a small gap between the two of you. “You memorized the moves perfectly, yet it becomes the shackle that weighs you down. Look outward from your mind’s eyes.”
You closed your eyes, allowing the Tarnished to guide you in a dance-like fashion.
“We are warriors of wanderers, such ever drifting is our destiny. Internalize it, embrace it, and let the flow guide you.”
“Still waters turn foul.” You whispered, the principle taught by your master. Or was it Malenia’s master?
“And stagnation leads to decay.” The Tarnished finished the second half of the mantra. She had backed away at some point, giving you the space.
You lifted the sword, positing it in front of your chest. Taking a half step back, you leaped into the air. For a blissful and liberating second, you were suspended in the air, the moment was fleeting yet stretched into infinity. The flow of existence carried you while the sword cut through the space.
When you landed, the solidity of the ground welcomed you, along with it was the clarity of your destiny.
Malenia.
You turned around and caught the Tarnished’s gaze. The gaze with endless wonder and searing admiration.
You felt your heart could melt.
It only took days before the Tarnished summoned you to aid her in a fight. Needless to say, you responded to her calling with enthusiasm.
Only the scene which you saw upon being summoned was not what you had expected at all. Gone with the stoic and flowing nature of the Tarnished. The woman was fighting her opponent, a tall and slender figure covered in clothes made of some being’s skin wielding a vicious hook-like twinblade, with animalistic savagery.
You watched in shock as the two traded blows. The Tarnished narrowly evaded the hook being thrusted at her and sunk her own blade into the enemy’s flesh. The slender figure, ignoring the blade embedded in his body, pulled the hook back in one smooth motion, leaving a gushing wound on the side of the Tarnished.
You leaped into the fight, forcing the enemy away from the Tarnished. But all of a sudden, the slender figure grew five times in length, the snake-like body bent at an impossible angle, evading your attack while thrusting the pointy side of the twinblade toward the Tarnished. It was clear that the enemy had decided to focus on finishing off one opponent first.
At the last moment, the Tarnished seemed to regain some of her sanity. Twirling the blade in her left hand, she managed to parry the powerful thrusting attack, giving you the opening to cut down the opponent.
The two of you decided to set up camp at the base of a nearby windmill. You started a campfire while the Tarnished treated her wound with some liquid of Crimson Tears.
You wanted to ask her about her…abnormality but couldn’t find a way to breach the subject. So you sat down on the opposite side of the campfire, stealing glances through the fire.
Putting away the flask, the Tarnished opened a clay bottle, her brows frowned after the first sip of the strange brown liquid from the bottle, and you couldn’t contain your curiosity anymore.
“Is that a special potion complementing the healing from the Crimson Tear?” You asked.
“This?” The Tarnished spared a look at the bottle in her hand then took another gulp, “no, this is alcohol, technically speaking that is. Brewed from Rowa berries and it tastes awful. How Torrent can gobble these berries down happily by the mouthful is beyond me.” She said the last sentence with a bitter smile.
That was the first time you saw her smile.
“Then why are you drinking it?” You asked.
“Me?” She paused for a moment, and gave the bottle a little shake, “For many reasons. This gods-forsaken land has so little to offer in terms of indulgence, that’s one reason.” She took another drink, “In my past life, after sundown, when the moon and the stars are high in the dark sky, I would sit with my people by the fire, just like what we are doing now, and drink to celebrate that we made through another day. I guess I am a little bit homesick.” She said it dreamily.
And you felt like a swarm of butterflies just erupted from the bottom of your stomach.
So, when the Tarnished tiled the bottle toward you, you trended carefully around the fire and took the bottle.
She wasn’t lying, the drink truly tasted awful. Earthy and bitter, the liquid burned on the way down and the aftertaste invaded your nasal cavity. The Tarnished laughed upon seeing your reaction which made you seriously consider taking another drink.
But she plucked the bottle from your hand, sparing you the potential suffering. For some time, the two of you sat side by side in silence, watching the flame and listening to the cracking sound of cinder.
“I had to put down a friend today.” The Tarnished said out of the blue.
You turned your head, but she wasn’t looking at you. Instead, her gaze was fixed on the flame just like a moment ago.
“A half-wolf warrior named Blaidd.”
You said nothing, simply letting her say what she needed to say.
“He was loyal, capable, a damn-fine friend, and honest to a fault.” The Tarnished let out a sigh, “torn between his loyalty and the god’s will, driven mad in the very end.”
You slowly raised your hand, debating whether or not you should offer her a comforting touch.
“Lady Ranni’s assessment was correct, kind of heart. It is good that she did not see such an unsightly end.”
The outreached hand clenched into a fist and fell back to your side. You knew of that tone.
“Who is Lady Ranni?”
“An Empyrean. The Mistress that I, Blaidd, and a War Counselor called Iji, together served.” The Tarnished turned her head slightly to the side, as if embarrassed about what she was about to say, “and my consort.”
“What is she like?”
Now you were just torturing yourself.
“She is graceful, regal, with an attitude befitting a princess.”
Somehow the word “princess” made you feel small, even though you know you shouldn’t feel that way.
“Strong and intelligent. Idealistic yet highly pragmatic. She carries the weight of the world on her slender shoulders without complaints.”
“And where is she now?” You asked dryly.
“She went to the night sky, seeking her order, while I travel the path to become the Lord. She promised me we will meet again when all is done.” The voice of the Tarnished has found its usual tone, cold and gentle.
“I will pray for the day the two of you are reunited.” The words tasted bitter on your tongue, bitter as the Rowa brew.
The Tarnished turned her face toward you, and the flame flickered in her eyes, “you are very kind, Millicent.”
You shook your head at the statement. You did not feel kind, you felt awful instead, and you felt like you could cry.
“Let us rest.” Thankfully your voice did not break. Without waiting for a response, you stood up and walked toward your bedroll.
A hand loosely closed around your wrist, stopping you in your steps.
“Thank you for assisting in the fight earlier.” The Tarnished said softly.
The calloused touch felt electric and you felt like you really were going to cry.
“Please continue calling upon me to assist you in the future.” You couldn’t tell if the Tarnished noticed the strange tone in your voice, even if she did, she made no mention of it.
The memories from the past blend in with the present as the Tarnished lays her hand gently on top of yours. Your weak attempt to pull your hand away fails with your weakened state.
“Please, let me pass alone.” You plead. “The scarlet rot writhes now, worse than ever. Soon, I won't be more than a mound of flesh. Curse-laden. Untouchable.” You pause, to suppress the tears. “I wouldn't want such a thing to bring you harm.”
The Tarnished shakes her head, “Allow me to stay with you. I…” Shockingly, the Tarnished breaks her voice.
But you understand why. The Tarnished may not carry the weight of the world on her shoulder as Lady Ranni does, but she does carry the weight of each death from those who were close to her.
Putting behind, or tried your best to put behind your unrequited feeling, you set off on your journey alone once more. As strong of a feeling that was, there was still your mission, your destiny.
To return the sense of self back to Malenia, the sense of self that allowed her to resist the call of the Scarlet Rot.
The nightmares you once knew of were Malenia’s memories. Similarly, you were certain of the strong ties between you and the demi-god, even if the exact nature remained elusive.
Although the certainty was welcomed, it also cast a dark shadow in your thoughts, bringing doubts about your own identity. As more and more of Malenia’s memories you recall, you still struggled to regain your own memories beyond the past few months.
You chewed on these thoughts and doubts as you made your way up to the Mountaintop of the Giants, where you knew the passage to Malenia lies.
Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, you crossed paths with the Tarnished once again. The indulging thought that your fates were somehow intertwined brought an unwelcomed tug on your heartstring.
Of course, you did not recognize her immediately. Her signature Blue Clothes were gone, she was wrapped in a set of dull black armor with a tattered clock on the back instead. But more importantly, she looked beaten, her calming confidence and easiness replaced with anguishment.
Like before, the two of you set camp at a nearby ruin. You explained to her your strong ties to Malenia and the path you were taking, and she listened, trying to be as supportive as she has always been for you. But you could tell her heart was not here, if anywhere.
“I offered to assist you,” you gauged her expression carefully, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, “if there are burdens that you trust to share with me, I will be glad to listen.”
The Tarnished nodded, more to herself than to you. “My path to becoming the Elden Lord had led me to the foot of the Erdtree. But the thorns sealed the entrance, denying all existence passage.”
“Is that what is troubling you?” You asked.
The Tarnished shook her head, “A dear friend of mine, Melina, who has been guiding me throughout my journey, offered me a solution. She told me to seek the forbidden flame of the giants and that flame will burn down the thorns.”
Sensing there was more, you held your breath and continued to listen.
“Only in order to wield the forbidden flame, a sacrifice needs to be made.” The Tarnished ran her hands through her hair. “And my friend told me that… that being the sacrifice is her purpose.”
For a moment, the two of you stayed in silence.
“And I rejected such notion.” The Tarnished said dryly. “This path, already a trail of blood and death of the people I knew and cared for, sickens me.”
“So what happened next?”
“I met a strange character named Shabriri, an evil being of sorts, but he told me that if I seek the flame of frenzy underneath the capital city, my friend’s life can be spared. So, I ventured downward through the labyrinth underneath Leyndell, and I found the room where the entity that links to the frenzied flame resides.”
Frenzied flame, the name sounded ominous. You eyed the Tarnished’s armor, it was worn and its colors dull, the shine that once coated the metal no longer to be found. She wouldn’t… You thought.
“Then Melina appeared and pleaded to me not to meddle with that chaos.” The Tarnished closed her eyes, “she asked me ‘however ruined this world has become, however mired in torment and despair, life endures. Births continue. There is beauty in that, is there not?’”
You could feel the raw emotions behind these words. You held your breath, waiting for the Tarnished to continue.
“At that moment, I first thought of you.” The Tarnished opened her eyes, her piercing gaze returned, “and I thought to myself, there is still beauty in this world that I ought not to deny.”
Your cheeks were burning. You unconsciously touched the white mark left by the Scarlot Rot on your face, “you think I’m beautiful?”
The Tarnished’s voice turned horsey, “I witnessed you transformed from a rotting woman in a dilapidated church into a fearsome warrior who carries herself with dignity and pride. I saw you leaped into the air with grace and determination during the fight.” Her eyes trailed along the mark on your face, “you truly are beautiful.”
Then, the shine in her eyes was gone, “so, here I am. Venturing toward the forbidden flame, counting down the seconds before I lose yet another friend who is dear to me.” She looked at her armored hands, “I put away my Blue Clothes, because I no longer feel like I’m in tune with the flow.” The anguish in her voice made your heart ache. “How did you do it, Millicent? I feel like ever since our training session, you have been persevering to higher places while I have been caught in a downward spiral.”
You did not hesitate to reach out to her hands this time. Surprising even yourself, your heart remained calm. “The Master once told me ‘I will one day perish but the flowing sword art will not perish with me. The will to repel the Rot will be within you, and so will the flow.’ I think of his words a lot lately and every breath I drew became another small victory against the Rot.” You let out a slow and long breath, thinking about the words you were about to say, “You once said that Lady Ranni sought for her own order and asked you to travel the path of the Lord. Do you share her vision for this land?”
The Tarnished nodded, the anguishment slowly leaving her face.
“Then think of her. Every step forward will be a small victory to enact the vision you both shared. Think of a better world.”
Tears slid down her cheeks but her expression was that of relief.
You watch as the tears come together under her chin. “Allow me to stay with you till the very end.” She pleas.
The Rot is not only eating away your physical strength but eroding your emotional guard as well. “Wh…why are you so kind…to me?”
She squeezes your hand gently, her palm feels warm on your cold hand. “Because I respect you. I admire you. And I love you.”
“Yo…You love…me?” You struggle with breathing, this time it is the Rot, your lungs quiver with pain. “But…La..Lady Ranni…”
She shakes her head, “Why must love be such a limiting thing? I love Ranni, and I love you.” Her voice is calm even though tears continue to slide down her cheek. “We can’t choose who we fall in love with.”
You want to laugh at such a flamboyant statement spoken in such a serious manner, but all you can manage is a fit of coughing. “Ye…yet I don…I don’t even know your name.”
She smiles at your words and you wish you could have seen her smile more. “I have long forgotten my name from my past life. I am happy to simply be your Tarnished.”
“M…my…Tarnished,” the life is slipping away quickly and the prospect of death suddenly fills your heart. You don’t want to die, not right now, not ever. You want to be able to reciprocate that love the Tarnished has just confessed. You want to see the new world that Ranni and the Tarnished will usher in. “An..and wh…what am I…to you?”
“Just Millicent, not someone else's fragment. And you are loved.” Her face says it all. This is farewell.
You hold onto her hand as hard as you can, not wanting to let it go. Yet, death is beckoning you, the dreamless sleep is alluring.
“I am…am Mi…Millicent…” You repeat her words, the last words you manage to speak.
You close your eyes as the last bit of strength slips away and your mind falls into the mist. On the very edge of life and death, you hold onto your last strand of thought.
And I am loved.