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Harry jerked awake with a gasp that felt like swallowing broken glass.
His hands shot out, grasping at nothing, reaching for someone who'd sounded exactly like Ron but couldn't be Ron because Ron was at Hogwarts and Harry was—
Where was he?
Stone walls. Grey and boring. A small window let in red light that made everything look washed out and wrong. Caelid's sky. Still trapped in Caelid.
Harry looked down at himself. His chest was wrapped in bandages, white cloth already spotted with red where he'd bled through. More bandages around his shoulder. His ribs were wrapped so tight he could barely breathe properly.
A bed. He was in an actual bed.
First real bed since arriving in this nightmare world. The mattress was thin and lumpy, probably stuffed with straw or something equally uncomfortable, but it was still better than carrying Millicent on his back while sleeping on the ground or collapsing in the courtyard
s surrounded by corpses.
"Easy, boy."
Harry's head snapped up. Blaidd sat in a chair that looked like it might break under his weight any second, his amber wolf eyes watching Harry. Hard to tell what a seven-foot wolf-man was thinking, but Harry thought he saw something like concern there.
"You fought like a true warrior," Blaidd said, his voice doing that rumbling thing that reminded Harry of distant thunder. "Princess Ranni will be pleased."
Ranni. The four-armed witch who'd given Harry that creepy silver knife and cryptic instructions. The one who'd sent Blaidd to "help" Harry, whatever that meant. The one who'd apparently predicted Harry would refuse the Godslayer's Greatsword and said it told her something important.
Harry didn't care about Ranni right now.
"Where's Millicent?"
Blaidd's ears flattened against his skull. Just a little, but enough that Harry's stomach dropped.
"Where is she?"
"Outside the gates," Blaidd said. "Under guard."
Harry was moving before his brain caught up to his body. Legs swinging over the side of the bed, feet hitting cold stone, pushing himself upright—
Pain exploded through his entire torso.
Everything went white for a second. His ribs felt like someone was grinding them together with sandpaper. His chest burned where the Misbegotten had clawed him open. His legs just stopped working, and he would've face-planted into the stone floor.
Massive hands caught Harry by the shoulders. Gentle, surprisingly gentle, guiding him back onto the bed.
"Steady." Blaidd's voice was very calm. "You nearly died, boy. The runes sealed your wounds but they can't replace blood. You need rest."
"I need to get to Millicent." Harry tried to push past Blaidd's hands, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. His arms felt like jelly. "You said she's outside the gates. It's not safe out there."
"She's safe." Blaidd settled back into his chair, which creaked ominously under his weight. "Roddard is with her."
That should've made Harry feel better. It didn't.
"Why isn't she in here?" Harry demanded. His hands curled into fists in the rough blanket covering his legs. "Why is she outside? What happened?"
Blaidd's expression—as much as Harry could read it on a wolf's face—looked uncomfortable. "The soldiers who control this castle are Radahn's men. They remember what Princess Malenia did to their General. What the Scarlet Rot did to Caelid."
He paused, and Harry saw where this was going.
"They don't want Malenia's spawn within the walls."
Harry's vision went red. Anger.
"She's not—" He had to stop, take a breath that made his ribs scream. "Millicent didn't choose to be born from the Rot. She didn't ask for any of this. She's not Malenia."
"I know that," Blaidd said quietly. "And so does Roddard, which is why he's with her now. Standing guard. Making sure none of Radahn's soldiers decide to solve their Malenia problem by killing her daughter."
The casual way Blaidd said it made Harry want to scream.
"I have to—" Harry started moving again, trying to shift his weight forward.
"You need to rest." Blaidd's voice went hard. It reminded him of the tone Professor Lupin used when he asked if his parents' sacrifice was worth less than candies in Hogsmeade. "You can barely sit up. You think you can carry Millicent in that state? Protect her if something attacks? You'll get both of you killed."
Harry wanted to argue. Wanted to tell Blaidd that he'd faced worse. That he'd fought a Basilisk at twelve and Dementors at thirteen and a bloody Leonine Misbegotten just—
How long ago had that been?
"How long was I out?" Harry asked.
"Four hours, perhaps five. Hard to say in Caelid."
Five hours. Millicent had been sitting outside the gates, surrounded by soldiers who hated her for existing, for five hours.
"She's safe," Blaidd said again as if he could somehow read his mind. "Roddard is one of the finest warriors I've ever seen. He won't let harm come to her."
Harry knew that he didn't know Roddard well enough, but he trusted his desire to protect Millicent. He knew Roddard would fight to the death for her.
"The moment I can walk," Harry said, "I'm going out there."
"I wouldn't expect anything less." Blaidd's ears twitched forward. Might've been a smile. Hard to tell. "Though you might want to see what the runes managed to fix first."
Harry looked down at himself properly. The bandages covered most of his torso, spotted with blood but not soaked through. That was probably good. He pressed his hand gently against his ribs—still hurt like hell.
"How bad is it?" Harry asked quietly.
"Bad enough that lesser men would be dead." Blaidd's amber eyes studied him. "The scars will be impressive."
Harry had the lightning bolt scar on his forehead from Voldemort trying to kill him as a baby. What were a few more scars at this point?
Except these ones he'd chosen. Chosen to fight the Leonine Misbegotten alone to prove he was strong enough. Strong enough to protect his friends. Strong enough to get home.
Home. Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione and Sirius.
That voice in the vision. It had sounded so much like Ron's.
"I saw something," Harry said, not sure why he was telling Blaidd but needing to tell someone. "While I was out. A vision, maybe. Or a memory."
Blaidd's ears pricked forward. "What did you see?"
"Radahn and Malenia. The battle where she bloomed. Where Caelid got corrupted." Harry's hands twisted in the blanket. "They were family. Half-siblings. They didn't want to fight each other, but neither would back down."
"Family love is important," Blaidd said with a sad voice. "But sometimes power is more enticing than blood."
There was something in how he said it. Like he knew exactly what that felt like. Like maybe he'd chosen between family and power himself.
"Radahn talked about Ranni," Harry continued, watching Blaidd's face—or trying to, expressions were hard to read on a wolf. "Said she'd destroyed her own body. Abandoned him. He sounded..." Harry trailed off, trying to find the right word. "Broken. Like losing her broke something in him."
Blaidd went very still.
"What else did you see?"
"Malenia. After the battle. She was somewhere else—white flowers and a huge tree. She kept crying, asking why it had to be that way." Harry's throat felt tight. "Then someone touched my shoulder. Someone who sounded exactly like my best friend Ron."
"I don't think it's possible for your friend to appear in your dream, whoever spoke with you, it was not your friend."
Harry had already figured that much, but this meant that someone had the ability to change their voice, and speak with someone's else's voice, not just that, whoever did this, knew of Ron...Harry had talked about his friends only to Melina, Millicent, and Roddard, and he doubted any of them had the power to enter his dreams, and he saw no reason for them to do that. That meant someone else, perhaps a Demigod could enter his dream and influence them. But Harry had no time to think about who it could be.
"Blaidd, what can you tell me about Princess Malenia?" Harry asked, wanting to know more about the Princess who fought General Radahn. The Princess who destroyed Caelid with Scarlet Rot, the same Rot that Harry was resistance for unknown reasons.
"Princess Malenia and Prince Miquella were born with curses. Miquella with eternal youth, and Malenia with the Scartel Rot. It was said that when she reached twelve, she saved Miquella from a pack of wolves, and she swore to him that she would become his blade. Malenia trained for centuries to become the Powerful Demigod she is known today, but no one knows who trained her, who was able to train someone like her."
"What about Prince Miquella? Malenia kept talking about him. About his vision of compassion."
"Prince Miquella is... was... one of the most powerful demigods in the Lands Between." Blaidd spoke with respect. "He sought to cure the Scarlet Rot. To heal his sister. To create an Age of Compassion where the strong protected the weak instead of conquering them."
"Where is he now?"
"No one knows." Blaidd's ears drooped slightly. "He vanished centuries ago. Some say he sleeps in the Haligtree, his own creation. Others say he's dead. Most have simply forgotten him."
Harry thought of that massive tree in his vision. The white flowers. The sacred feeling of the place. Had that been the Haligtree? Had he seen where Prince Miquella was?
"What's an Empyrean?" Harry asked.
"Where did you hear that word?"
"The vision. Malenia said Miquella was an Empyrean. That he could become a god." Harry watched Blaidd carefully. "What does that mean?"
"An Empyrean is a demigod chosen by the Two Fingers. They are... special. Marked by destiny, you might say. They have the potential to achieve true Godhood. To become vessels for the Elden Ring itself. To replace Queen Marika as the god of this world."
Harry's brain tried to process that. Becoming a god. Not just powerful, but actually divine. Like the difference between Dumbledore and... what? God? The concept was too big to fit inside his head properly.
"Which demigods were Empyreans?" Harry asked.
"Princess Malenia," Blaidd said slowly. "Prince Miquella. Princess Ranni. And Queen Marika herself, before she ascended."
"So, Ranni is an Empyrean too." Harry acted surprised.
"She was." Blaidd said. "Is, perhaps. Though she cast aside that destiny when she slew her mortal flesh."
"Why would she do that?" Harry asked. "If being an Empyrean means you can become a god, why throw it away?"
"That," Blaidd said quietly, "is a question only Princess Ranni can answer. And she does not share her reasons freely."
Harry thought about Radahn crying over his lost sister. About how broken he'd sounded when he talked about Ranni abandoning him without explanation. "I don't understand why she would abandon her family like that," Harry muttered to himself, but Blaidd still heard him.
"General Radahn stopped the stars," Blaidd said abruptly. "Did you know that?"
Harry had heard, but surely they didn't mean he literally held back the stars...right? "I heard soldiers mention it. Something about holding back the stars with his will. I thought it was just... I don't know, a metaphor or something."
"No metaphor." Blaidd's ears flattened slightly. "He used his gravity magic to halt the stars themselves. Froze them in place. Stopped their movement across the sky."
"Why would he do that?" Harry asked, trying to imagine the kind of power that required. "What's the point of stopping stars?"
"Because of Ranni." Blaidd's voice had gone soft. Almost sad. "Her fate, her destiny, the path laid out for her... it's written in the stars. The movement of stars dictates the path of Empyreans. By stopping the stars, Radahn stopped whatever destiny awaited his sister."
Harry felt his chest tighten. "He was trying to protect her."
"Perhaps." Blaidd tilted his head. "Or perhaps he was trying to control her. To prevent her from choosing a path he didn't approve of. The line between protection and control can be thin."
"But he loved her," Harry said, remembering the tears on Radahn's face in the vision. "He said she was everything to him. More than his ambition or his power or anything."
"Love doesn't always mean you're right." Blaidd's tone had gone hard. "Radahn believed he was doing the right thing. Believed he was saving his sister from herself, from a destiny that would destroy her. But that didn't make it right."
"Why?" Harry demanded. "If he was trying to protect her, why was it wrong?"
"Because it wasn't his choice to make." Blaidd leaned forward, his amber eyes intent. "Ranni had the right to choose her own path, even if that path led to destruction. Even if it meant abandoning everything, destroying her own flesh, casting aside godhood itself. It was her choice. Not his."
Harry thought about the Dursleys. About how they'd tried to stamp out his magic, to keep him small and scared and controllable because they thought they were protecting Dudley from the "freakishness." About how that hadn't been protection at all, just control wrapped in concern.
"Maybe you're right," Harry said quietly. "Maybe Radahn should've let her choose. But I don't think he was evil for trying to stop her. Just... wrong."
"Perhaps." Blaidd's ears twitched. "But being wrong with good intentions still causes harm. Radahn stopped the stars. Trapped his sister in a fate she didn't want. Refused to listen when she tried to find another way. And eventually, she had no choice but to destroy herself to be free of him."
"That's why she slew her mortal flesh," Harry said, understanding clicking into place. "To escape him."
"Among other reasons, yes." Blaidd was quiet for a moment. "Princess Ranni's mother, Queen Rennala, was one of the most just and wise queens her lands had ever known. Fair in her rulings. Compassionate in her judgments. Of Rennala's three children with Radagon, Ranni took the most from her mother. That wisdom. That desire for justice."
"And Radahn?" Harry asked. "What did he take from his parents?"
"His father's strength. His mother's brilliance. But also..." Blaidd paused. "Radahn was, in his soul, a warlord. A demigod who thrived in battle. Who wanted to be known across the Lands Between, not for wisdom or compassion, but for conquest and glory just like Godfrey."
Harry thought about the vision. About Radahn's army, his speeches about strength and order and bringing glory back to broken lands.
"Godwyn the Golden was the demigod of peace," Blaidd continued. "He befriended dragons. United enemies. Built bridges between warring factions. Radahn..." Blaidd's voice went sad again. "Radahn was the demigod of war. And he loved it. Loved the clash of armies. Loved the test of strength. Loved proving himself the strongest, again and again."
"That doesn't make him a bad person," Harry said.
"No," Blaidd agreed. "But it made him dangerous. A good man who loves war too much is still dangerous. Still capable of terrible things in pursuit of glory." He looked directly at Harry. "Radahn believed what he was doing was right. Believed stopping the stars protected his sister. Believed his strength could unite the Lands Between. Believed his way was the only way. But belief doesn't equal truth, boy. And good intentions don't erase the harm they cause."
Harry was quiet for a long moment, processing all of this. Family who loved each other but couldn't agree. Siblings torn apart by different visions of the future. Good people doing terrible things because they believed they were right.
It sounded exhaustingly familiar.
"How does an Empyrean become a god?" Harry asked, changing the subject slightly. "What do they have to do?"
"I know not the ritual or the requirements." Blaidd said. "Such knowledge is held by the Two Fingers and perhaps Queen Marika herself. If she still lives."
"So let me get this straight," Harry said slowly. "Malenia and Miquella wanted Miquella to become a god. Radahn wanted to rule through strength. Ranni destroyed her own body. And they all tore each other apart over pieces of a broken ring."
"That's... simplified, but essentially correct." Blaidd's ears twitched. "You're quick, boy. Quicker than most who come to the Lands Between."
"I'm thirteen," Harry said tiredly. "I shouldn't have to be quick. I should be at school worrying about homework and Quidditch and whether Snape's going to take points from Gryffindor for breathing wrong."
Blaidd tilted his head. "Quidditch?"
"Sport. With brooms. You fly around and try to catch a golden ball." Harry waved his hand dismissively. The gesture pulled at his bandaged chest, making him wince. "Doesn't matter. Point is—"
He stopped. Took a breath.
"I just want to go home," Harry said quietly. "I want to make sure Sirius is okay. That Ron and Hermione are safe. That's all I want."
"I know," Blaidd said, sounding sympathetic. "But the path home may require you to walk through things you don't understand first. Princess Ranni believes you're important. That your presence here serves a purpose."
"What purpose?"
"That," Blaidd said, "is not for me to say."
Harry leaned back against the pillow, exhaustion pulling at him again despite having just woken up. His body was still healing. Still trying to recover from nearly dying.
"Did you learn where Commander O'Neil is?" Harry asked, fishing for good news. "While I was unconscious?"
"We did," he said slowly. "The Commander of Redmane Castle has information about O'Neil's last known location."
"That's good, right?" Harry felt a spark of hope. Finally, some actual progress. "We can get the needle. Help Millicent."
"There's a condition," Blaidd said.
Of course, there was. Because nothing in this cursed world came without strings attached.
"What condition?"
Blaidd's amber eyes met Harry's, and Harry saw something in them. Something that looked almost like regret.
"You must agree to participate in the Radahn Festival."
Harry blinked. "The what?"
"The Radahn Festival." Blaidd repeated. "It's a gathering of warriors. A test of strength."
That sounded simple enough. Except Harry had learned that when things sounded simple in the Lands Between, they were usually anything but.
"What kind of test?" Harry asked warily.
Blaidd was quiet for a moment.
"It's called a festival, but that's... generous. In truth, it's a hunt. The Commander of Redmane Castle sends word across the Lands Between when enough powerful warriors have gathered. Warriors who might stand a chance against impossible odds."
"Against what?" Harry asked, but the name itself was giving it away.
"General Radahn," Blaidd said simply. "The festival exists for one purpose: to give warriors the honor of trying to kill a mad god. And to give Radahn's soldiers the hope that one day, someone might succeed."
Harry's stomach dropped.
"You want me to fight Radahn." It wasn't a question. "The same Radahn I just watched fight Malenia to a standstill. The one who's bigger than a cathedral and controls gravity itself."
"The same," Blaidd confirmed. "Though he's weaker now than he was then. Centuries of madness and Scarlet Rot have taken their toll. He's still incredibly dangerous, but not invincible."
"Just mostly invincible," Harry said flatly.
"Many have tried. All have failed." Blaidd's ears drooped slightly. "The festival happens periodically. Sometimes years pass between attempts. Sometimes only months. It depends on how many warriors answer the call."
Harry looked down at his bandaged chest. The Leonine Misbegotten had nearly killed him just hours ago.
And they wanted him to fight a demigod.
"This is blackmail," Harry said.
"Yes," Blaidd said simply. "It is."
At least he was honest about it.
"What happens if I say no?" Harry asked.
"Then we leave Redmane Castle without the information. Without knowing where O'Neil went. Without the needle." Blaidd answered. "Millicent continues to deteriorate. The Rot continues to spread through her. Eventually, it will consume her entirely, and she'll become like Aurelia. A tree. A bloom. Another monument to Malenia's curse."
Harry's hands clenched into fists. "That's not fair."
"No," Blaidd agreed. "It's not. But fairness is another thing the Lands Between don't care about."
Harry knew it would be pointless to scream like a child; he would fix nothing but acting immature. Millicent needed him to act like a warrior.
"So when would this happen?" Harry asked tiredly. "When do they expect me to fight a mad demigod while I can barely stand?"
Blaidd's ears twitched. "That's where it gets... different. The Commander doesn't want you to fight now. He wants you to take an oath instead."
Harry's head snapped up. "What kind of oath?"
"The Oath of Grace." Blaidd's tone had gone serious. "It's a blood oath, boy. Binding in ways that go beyond mere words."
"Explain," Harry said.
Blaidd leaned forward, his amber eyes intent. "You would swear upon your blood and the Grace that flows within you to answer the call when the Radahn Festival begins. When enough warriors have gathered. When the time is right. Whenever that may be."
"Whenever that may be," Harry repeated slowly. "So not now?"
"Not now. Could be a week from now. Could be a month. Could be a year. Could be a century. The Commander sends word across the Lands Between. Waits for champions to answer. Waits for the right moment. When he judges the time has come, he'll issue the call. And you'll be bound to answer it."
"And if I don't?" Harry asked.
"The Greater Will judges those who break blood oaths." Blaidd's voice sounded like a warning. "You would die, boy. Not immediately, perhaps. But the judgment would come. Your Grace would be stripped away. Your body would fail. And when death finally took you..." He paused. "You would never be allowed to rest. Your soul would wander, denied peace, denied the Erdtree's embrace, denied everything. Forever."
Harry felt cold despite the warm room. That wasn't just death. That was eternal suffering.
"So my choices are take this oath or let Millicent die," Harry said flatly.
"Yes."
"Brilliant." Harry laughed; he didn't know why he was laughing. "Just brilliant. Does everyone in this world deal in blood oaths and impossible choices, or is it just me?"
"Most people don't get choices at all," Blaidd said quietly. "The fact that you're being offered one, even a bad one, is more than most receive."
That didn't make Harry feel better. At all.
He thought about Millicent. About her laugh when he made stupid jokes while carrying her. About how she'd thrown herself off his back to help him fight the big Misbegotten. About her determination to live despite the Rot consuming her from the inside.
He thought about promising to help her. About refusing to abandon people in danger, even when it cost him.
He thought about Ron and Hermione, who'd probably have very strong opinions about Harry swearing blood oaths to fight demigods. Hermione would cite seventeen reasons it was a terrible idea. Ron would call him mental but stand by him anyway.
"How long do I have to prepare?" Harry asked. "If I take this oath. If I agree. When the call comes, how much warning do I get?"
"The Commander issues the call when he judges the moment right. When enough warriors have gathered, when the circumstances align. There's no set schedule."
"So I could be in the middle of something important and suddenly have to drop everything and run back here to fight Radahn or die horribly and suffer forever."
"Yes."
"And there's no way out of it once I swear."
"No."
Harry closed his eyes. Tried to think. Tried to figure out if there was any other option, any other way forward that didn't involve binding himself to a magical oath that could kill him.
Came up empty.
"I promised Aldrich I'd try to give Radahn peace," Harry said quietly. "When I was stronger. When I had a chance."
"You did," Blaidd confirmed.
"This isn't exactly what I meant." Harry opened his eyes, met Blaidd's amber gaze. "I'm still not stronger. Still don't have much of a chance."
"No," Blaidd said. Then, after a pause, "Alone, you don't."
Harry looked up sharply. "What do you mean, alone?"
"The festival isn't a duel. It's a hunt." Blaidd leaned forward. "Multiple warriors enter the arena together. You'd have allies. Roddard, certainly. Aldrich and his remaining soldiers, if they live that long. Perhaps others who answer the call."
"That's it?" Harry asked.
"I will be there." Blaidd said with absolute certainty. "Princess Ranni sent me to help you grow stronger, to stand with you as you face challenges that will forge you into something more. I don't abandon those I'm sworn to protect, boy. When the call comes, wherever you are, I will find you. And we will face Radahn together."
Something in Harry's chest loosened slightly. Not much. He was still terrified, still hated everything about this situation. But knowing he wouldn't be alone, that Blaidd would actually stand with him...
It helped. More than it probably should.
"You promise?" Harry asked, and he sounded young even to his own ears. "You promise you'll be there?"
"I swear it on my service to Princess Ranni." Blaidd placed one massive hand over his chest. "When the call comes, I will stand beside you. You have my word."
Harry tried to see a lie, but the Wolf Man was telling the truth.
"Thank You."
If you want to Read 5 More Chapters Right Now. Search 'Drinor Patreon' on Google and Click the First Patreon Link