After laying the maiden to rest, Lucian wandered deeper into the graveyard.
The first place he inspected was the very chamber where they stood, at the heart of the Dungeon. The corpse of the Ulcerated Tree Spirit, slain moments before, had already dissolved into drifting motes of ash. Among those fading remnants, Lucian discovered a Golden Seed—a blessing of the Erdtree, which would allow him to strengthen his Flask once more.
At the roots of the Erdtree that pierced through the chamber's wall, he found several sets of ashes, faint souls still clinging to them. Roderika stepped forward, kneeling, and began to commune with the spirits.
Lucian stood in silence beside her. Although he, too, possessed the Spirit Calling Bell and thus the ability to commune with the dead, his talent paled beside that of a true Spirit Tuner. For him, the voices of untempered spirits were blurred, broken, like words half-heard through static. Only souls of immense strength, like those of the Ancient king, could pierce through clearly without a tuner's guidance.
Roderika's gift was different. She could weave the dead's tattered voices into clarity, make their essence whole, and attune them to new masters. Through her, ashes did not merely respond—they lived again, closer to their former glory.
After listening for a time, Roderika turned to Lucian with a solemn expression. "These are the ashes of Storm Knights," she said softly. "And one among them still bears his name. The ashes of Oleg, once the Wing of the Storm."
Lucian's breath caught. Oleg was remembered as one of the two Wings of the Storm, a champion who had once raged against the might of the Erdtree.
Roderika recounted their tale. When the Storm King's war against the Erdtree ended in defeat, the surviving knights resisted still, earning the wrath of the Greater Will. They were nearly annihilated—spared only by the plea of the old Commander Niall, who sacrificed his own leg in exchange for their lives.
From then, their paths split. Some bent the knee to Godwyn the Golden and garrisoned the far-off Castle Sol in the frozen north. Others, refusing submission, were cast out to the borderlands. Among them were the two Wings of the Storm—Oleg and Engvall.
Ages passed. When the Shattering came, the self-styled Grace-Given Lord sought their strength. Engvall refused, clinging to a kingless ruin. But Oleg accepted. He served Morgott the Omen King, wielding his storm as a scourge against oathbreakers. For his loyalty he was promised to return as a hero to the Erdtree—but Godwyn's death shattered the cycle. No one could return. Thus Oleg and his knights, denied rebirth, dwindled to mere ashes here.
The tale ended as Oleg's spirit stirred within the ash, recognizing Lucian. His voice, faint yet proud, pledged himself to serve in death.
Lucian accepted. Though he might not summon Oleg often, the knight's loyalty was a boon. Unlike in the game he once remembered, this world's rules allowed summoners to call forth not just one spirit at a time but many, so long as their vessels and magic could bear the strain. With a greater medium, he could one day command whole hosts.
For now, he instructed Roderika to carry one of the Storm Knight ashes for her own protection. She had already obtained her own Spirit Calling Bell, and Lucian trusted her bond with the spirits.
The group continued through the graveyard, plucking Ghost Gloveworts from the alcoves and shrines along the way. Here, in the Hero's Grave, many of the blooms were of higher quality—spirits of valor clung more strongly to their flowers. Most were of the 3rd to 6th tier, their pale blossoms nourished by lingering souls.
At the road's end stood a spectral Storm Knight. Upon seeing Lucian, the spirit bowed and reached into his own chest. From within he withdrew a burning crimson sigil. He placed it in Lucian's hand—where it sank into his flesh, etching itself upon the back of his hand like a brand.
Lucian studied it. It resembled a command seal from a long tale, yet it was no mere mark. This was a Dragon Communion Seal, strengthening the incantations of Dragon Communion. Convenient, for Lucian had already studied a dragon's heart through his Great Rune, unlocking the power of their incantations.
Still, he wondered: the mark was intangible, immaterial. How could it ever be strengthened? Forging stones were of the world—what could sharpen a phantom brand?
Leaving the thought unresolved, he pressed onward.
He instructed his companions to return with their gathered spoils, while he explored a hidden passage. Dropping down into a lower chamber, he was set upon by imp statues. These constructs, unlike the storm knights, bore him no allegiance—their sole command was to slay all intruders. Lucian unleashed a gale, battering them into ruin before descending further.
A hallway blocked by a flame-spewing pillar barred his way, but with a flick of wind he struck its trigger, silencing the trap. Beyond, a narrow ledge wound its way to a platform that jutted into the abyss.
There, beneath a looming statue, rested a stone coffin draped in red cloth. As Lucian approached, two Grafted Scions descended upon him—warped kin of the noble line, their many limbs clutching blades.
Lucian drew his two greatswords, now reforged and sharpened beyond their prime. Both gleamed, strengthened to +12.
The duel was brutal. He met their storm of blades with a whirlwind of his own, his body spinning like a tempest. The scions faltered, retreating behind their heavy shields—yet Lucian pressed on, leaping high into the air. With a thunderous Lion's Claw, he shattered their guard, cleaving limbs until the ground was carpeted in severed arms.
The first fell, reduced to a twitching husk. The second attempted to strike from behind, but Lucian turned, severing its head in a single stroke.
From their corpses he took a Golden Beast Crest Shield and their Ornamental Straight Swords—spoils more useful to others than himself.
At the base of the statue, he found a talisman: the Erdtree's Favor. Once, it was said, Queen Marika herself bestowed such blessings. It strengthened vitality, endurance, and bearing. Lucian slipped it into his final empty talisman pouch, joining Radagon's Scarseal and the Haligdrake Talisman Talisman already in his keeping.
He smiled. One step closer to his grand design: a cuirass woven with talisman slots, filled with every charm of warding. The Lands Between's own form of armor, more enduring than steel.
As for the coffin, he left it untouched. He had no wish to disturb the dead so wantonly.
With the grave cleared, he ascended, rejoining his companions at the entrance. Elyssa released the ice-bound chariot, setting it once more to patrol the catacombs.
Their work here was finished. They had buried the maiden, claimed the relics, and scoured the graveyard of its hidden treasures. Now, at last, it was time to return to Stormveil—where Lucian would seek out the Sorcerer Thops.