Hot... blisteringly hot. That was the Tarnished's first sensation, followed immediately by a cacophony of agonizing shrieks that seemed to vibrate within his very soul.
"You look pathetic, Istvan... and you too, Edgar. I take it that fire up ahead is the culprit?" The Tarnished arrived with a chilling composure, his eyes scanning the chaotic perimeter.
"Long time no see... I heard you claimed a Great Rune. I'd expect nothing less," Istvan managed a strained, welcoming smile.
"Don't force a smile if you don't feel like it," the Tarnished replied, snapping his fingers.
"I—I was just trying to lighten the mood!"
"The mood is 'incineration,' Istvan. Stop while you're ahead." The Tarnished drew the Newel Moon and unleashed a horizontal slash. The frost, which usually froze everything in its path, evaporated into steam before it could even touch the flickering yellow flames.
"See? Too hot," the Tarnished shrugged.
"What do we do... please, save Irina, Lord Tarnished!" Edgar was on the verge of a breakdown.
"Don't cry yet. If she's in there, it's a bit of a headache." The Tarnished looked at the maddened soldiers blocking the path. "These were your men, Edgar. I assume you won't mind if I 'liberate' them? They aren't human anymore."
Edgar lowered his head in silent permission. The Tarnished rolled his shoulders, his hands shifting into massive dragon claws. He lunged into the fray, tearing through the scorched husks of the guards. When several Frenzied villagers unleashed high-heat eye-beams, he leapt into the air, manifesting the Aspect of the Crucible: Tail to sweep the remaining threats into the ash.
"Incredible..." Istvan and Edgar watched, stunned. The gap between them and this Tarnished was no longer a mere difference in skill; it was a difference in existence.
"Stay back, it's not over," the Tarnished warned, waving them away. He looked up at the "Sun"—a massive, burning eye of golden-yellow energy hovering over the tower. In the Lands Between, eyes were windows to the divine or the cursed. This "Eye-Sun" was clearly the source of the madness.
The Tarnished drew the Alabaster Lord's Greatsword. "Distance is a bit far, but let's see if this old star-metal still works." He mimicked the Alabaster Lord's stance, driving the blade deep into the earth.
A violent gravitational pull erupted, yanking rocks, burnt trees, and the very flames toward the sword.
"Further back! Move!" he roared to his companions. He shoved the blade deeper. The gravitational well intensified until the Golden Sun itself began to wobble, pulled by the inescapable weight of the void.
"Come down here!" With a violent yank, the Tarnished pulled the Eye-Sun from the sky and thrust the greatsword straight through its center.
"AAAAAAAGH!!!" A scream—neither male nor female, filled with a thousand voices of despair—shattered the air as the Golden Sun dissolved into nothingness. With its source gone, the fires in the village began to die down into embers.
"IRINA! IRINA!" Edgar sprinted into the village the moment the heat became bearable.
They found her at the top of the tower, kneeling in agony, her hands pressed tightly over her bandaged eyes. "Fire... so hot... no... Father is waiting... I won't let it..."
She was fighting it. Her will was extraordinary, but her small frame was being consumed from the inside by the Frenzied Flame.
"Dammit, we have to douse that fire inside her!" Istvan shouted.
"She has guts. I like that," the Tarnished muttered. He pulled out a St. Trina's Arrow.
"Wait, what are you doing—" Before Istvan could finish, the Tarnished stabbed the arrow into Irina's shoulder.
"Relax. It's a sedative." The arrow's soporific power took hold instantly. The violet mist of Trina spread through Irina's veins, forcing the chaotic fire into a temporary slumber. Her breathing slowed, and the golden glow behind her bandages faded.
"Handy... where did you get those?" Istvan asked, wiping sweat from his brow.
"You want one? I can stab you too. You said you were having trouble sleeping."
"No! No, I'm good! A little insomnia never killed anyone!" Istvan waved his hands frantically.
The Tarnished carried Irina back to the outskirts in a princess carry. When Edgar saw his daughter safe, he collapsed to his knees, sobbing and bowing his head to the dirt in gratitude.
"Take care of her, Edgar," the Tarnished said, handing over the remaining Trina's arrows. "She has a dangerous fire inside her. If she starts screaming about heat again, use these. It's a temporary fix, but it's all I've got for now."
"Thank you... I have decided," Edgar said, his voice trembling. "I will resign my post. I'll take Irina on a journey—to find a cure, or perhaps just to see the world before the darkness takes her completely. I won't let her end up like her mother."
"A journey. Sounds like a plan. Good luck, old man."
As a reward, Edgar gave the Tarnished his personal collection of Smithing Stones. The Tarnished looked at his Alabaster Greatsword—it was warped and blackened, nearly melted into a hunk of iron by the Eye-Sun's heat.
"I'll take the stones. This thing is a hammer now anyway."
As the party split—Edgar to Morne, Istvan to Limgrave—the Tarnished looked back at the smoldering village. He had seen Nomadic Merchants among the crazed. Was the fire their fault? Or were they its victims? "Fire is a hunted thing in this world," he mused. "But this... this felt like it wanted to melt everything back into one. I'd better stay away from that stuff."
Meanwhile, far to the east in the red-rotted wastes of Caelid...
"Qierbaxia, why is everything so... red?" Inkuouro asked, looking at the decaying landscape.
"This is Caelid, you idiot. After Malenia and Radahn fought here, her Scarlet Rot turned the land into a living hell."
"Malenia... that Demigod."
"There's something fishy about that battle. But we aren't here for history. I can feel it... Lihouduo is here."
"Then let's go!"
"Hmph. First, we deal with these 'hospitable' dogs and birds..." Qierbaxia drew his weapon as a T-Rex-sized dog with a giant head lunged from the rot.
•
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